( he honestly hadn't expected this part: how sharp the mere effect is of hearing his name on her lips; that reminder of who he is, that comfortable and well-worn name which sat on no official paperwork and which he'd had to have resurrected and handed back to him, only to then dole out sparingly as something precious. who the hell is bucky?
they are, all of a sudden, wearing too many clothes. now that they're halfway there, his hesitation has melted with the heat of her hand working up and down his length, and bucky's squirming to try to get his jeans further off and allow her more access. in the process and in trying to not squash karen beneath him, his elbow accidentally shoves into her side with an oof, and this time there's a chuckle into her shoulder along with the curse. he's not used to balancing physical presence like this, to sharing such close space with a person. )
Shit. Sorry.
( to make up for it, his metal hand moves for hers, his grip hard and unyielding as he regretfully tugs her away. bucky settles on his knees at the bottom of the sofa, cock now fully hard and aching; trousers only partially off but hell, it's good enough for government work.
he's looking right at her and meeting her gaze — with a fierce stare, still, but this time with unabated hunger in his eyes — as he reaches out to work on the button and zipper of karen's own jeans, the metal now sliding against that soft flesh of her abdomen, right beneath her navel. he tucks his fingertips between her skin and the denim, dragging it down the long lines of her thighs and legs as she kicks, helping him tug them off and toss them somewhere on the floor behind them. moving forward again, he presses a kiss to karen's knee; her thigh; the jutting angle of her hips; further, upward and upward, to his tongue circling a nipple before his mouth closes over it; his left hand settling around the other breast, the difference near-electric between his hot sucking mouth and the cold metal. )
no subject
they are, all of a sudden, wearing too many clothes. now that they're halfway there, his hesitation has melted with the heat of her hand working up and down his length, and bucky's squirming to try to get his jeans further off and allow her more access. in the process and in trying to not squash karen beneath him, his elbow accidentally shoves into her side with an oof, and this time there's a chuckle into her shoulder along with the curse. he's not used to balancing physical presence like this, to sharing such close space with a person. )
Shit. Sorry.
( to make up for it, his metal hand moves for hers, his grip hard and unyielding as he regretfully tugs her away. bucky settles on his knees at the bottom of the sofa, cock now fully hard and aching; trousers only partially off but hell, it's good enough for government work.
he's looking right at her and meeting her gaze — with a fierce stare, still, but this time with unabated hunger in his eyes — as he reaches out to work on the button and zipper of karen's own jeans, the metal now sliding against that soft flesh of her abdomen, right beneath her navel. he tucks his fingertips between her skin and the denim, dragging it down the long lines of her thighs and legs as she kicks, helping him tug them off and toss them somewhere on the floor behind them. moving forward again, he presses a kiss to karen's knee; her thigh; the jutting angle of her hips; further, upward and upward, to his tongue circling a nipple before his mouth closes over it; his left hand settling around the other breast, the difference near-electric between his hot sucking mouth and the cold metal. )