( more than anything else in the world right now, james barnes realises, he wants to hear karen make that sound again. that bitten-off whimper as he slid into her, the whisper of a moan as they simply lay there for a moment, adjusting to the feel of it, to sensations gone faded and old for both of them, but now flaring bright and vivid and blinding anew. his fingertips maintain their iron grip on her, inadvertently pressing something like his handprints into her (she'll be finding the marks at stray moments tomorrow, bruises radiating outward, a little stinging reminder as she moves). he draws himself out slowly, luxuriating in it, nosing at her entrance before he presses home again into her heat. it's slow, to start; he could keep them both hovering right on this edge, but after eighty goddamn years he doesn't have that kind of patience. )
You're so—
( bucky trails off, unable to find the right word. beautiful, like he'd blurted out earlier. and other crasser things now, too: wet. tight. he might have a soldier's vocabulary, but he can't bring it to bear here, with karen stripped down beneath him, looking glorious and gorgeous and wanton. instead, he settles for showing her by action: he pulls half-out before snapping them both into the sofa. the cushions are too soft to really give them enough support, but that doesn't matter: he rolls his hips into her anyway, starting to set up a rhythm with the slick-slide of their bodies meeting, the candle casting a radiant red against her blonde hair, hearing their mingled breaths and rattled moans in the room, the only other sound the distant street traffic through the apartment windows. an occasional distant siren, even as sirens and klaxons go off all over him wherever she's touching him, wherever he's touching her, the sensation of being so deep inside her.
the dog tags keep bouncing as bucky thrusts forward, and when they almost hit karen in the eye, bucky finally laughs on another gasp, seizes the metal necklace and swings it over his shoulder to flip it to his back instead. all the little details he hadn't considered, and is having to remember. )
no subject
You're so—
( bucky trails off, unable to find the right word. beautiful, like he'd blurted out earlier. and other crasser things now, too: wet. tight. he might have a soldier's vocabulary, but he can't bring it to bear here, with karen stripped down beneath him, looking glorious and gorgeous and wanton. instead, he settles for showing her by action: he pulls half-out before snapping them both into the sofa. the cushions are too soft to really give them enough support, but that doesn't matter: he rolls his hips into her anyway, starting to set up a rhythm with the slick-slide of their bodies meeting, the candle casting a radiant red against her blonde hair, hearing their mingled breaths and rattled moans in the room, the only other sound the distant street traffic through the apartment windows. an occasional distant siren, even as sirens and klaxons go off all over him wherever she's touching him, wherever he's touching her, the sensation of being so deep inside her.
the dog tags keep bouncing as bucky thrusts forward, and when they almost hit karen in the eye, bucky finally laughs on another gasp, seizes the metal necklace and swings it over his shoulder to flip it to his back instead. all the little details he hadn't considered, and is having to remember. )