( not totally sure what he expected from this meet up, ash came and made himself comfortable in bucky's room, a little like he owns every room he occupies, sitting in a chair across from the bed, ankle over his knee, loosely thumbing through bucky's, his, bucky's copy of the little prince fondly. when bucky arrives, he straightens, but doesn't stand. it's there in his posture, the way he walks, the relief on his face to see ash hasn't let him down. ash knows what he needs, and he knows it with the surety of his next breath.
his feet land flat on the ground, legs spread, sinking kingly down in his chair. sharply, his fingers snap. there's a point to the bit of space between his thighs.
ash doesn't say kneel. bucky's been trained too well for that. still, he expects it all the same, waiting impatiently. )
[He only pauses long enough to push the door closed behind him, locking away the outside world for the time being. All that matters to him right now is that Ash is here. That the only person capable of reining in his conflicting emotions is only a few short paces away.
(Hold on, why is there still any kind of distance between them?)
He's across the room in seconds, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. The thud of his knees hitting the ground is mostly muffled by the plush carpet, though the impact itself is entirely ignored. All that matters is shuffling into the space between Ash's legs. Feeling the warmth of his thighs, the safety that permeates the air at being this close again. He wants to reach out. Wants to slip his fingers beneath the cuff of Ash's trousers to seek out the heat of his skin. Wants to duck forwards, to inhale the heady scent of Ash's crotch. To drown himself in it.
Yet somehow, he holds himself back. Sits on his heels, his hands loose on his knees. Despite the yearning, despite the clear need behind the way he looks up at Ash, their time together has taught him the importance of patience. At least when it comes to this.
Ash is the one who dominates, and Bucky is the one who submits to it. He's Ash's, to do with as he wishes. Ash's to break, to reform. To make human again.]
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( not totally sure what he expected from this meet up, ash came and made himself comfortable in bucky's room, a little like he owns every room he occupies, sitting in a chair across from the bed, ankle over his knee, loosely thumbing through bucky's, his, bucky's copy of the little prince fondly. when bucky arrives, he straightens, but doesn't stand. it's there in his posture, the way he walks, the relief on his face to see ash hasn't let him down. ash knows what he needs, and he knows it with the surety of his next breath.
his feet land flat on the ground, legs spread, sinking kingly down in his chair. sharply, his fingers snap. there's a point to the bit of space between his thighs.
ash doesn't say kneel. bucky's been trained too well for that. still, he expects it all the same, waiting impatiently. )
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(Hold on, why is there still any kind of distance between them?)
He's across the room in seconds, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. The thud of his knees hitting the ground is mostly muffled by the plush carpet, though the impact itself is entirely ignored. All that matters is shuffling into the space between Ash's legs. Feeling the warmth of his thighs, the safety that permeates the air at being this close again. He wants to reach out. Wants to slip his fingers beneath the cuff of Ash's trousers to seek out the heat of his skin. Wants to duck forwards, to inhale the heady scent of Ash's crotch. To drown himself in it.
Yet somehow, he holds himself back. Sits on his heels, his hands loose on his knees. Despite the yearning, despite the clear need behind the way he looks up at Ash, their time together has taught him the importance of patience. At least when it comes to this.
Ash is the one who dominates, and Bucky is the one who submits to it. He's Ash's, to do with as he wishes. Ash's to break, to reform. To make human again.]