(MCU) Handling
July 16th, 2012 01:15![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Handling
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Rating: R
Words: 468
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comicdrabbles, prompt "fingers".
Steve’s changed so much.
It kind of kills Bucky that he wasn’t there, that he missed so much of it.
He’s still Steve, though, and that’s the most important thing. Still has his eyes, his smile, his heart.
It’s just his body that has changed. Those aren’t his feet, his chest, his shoulders, his fingers.
Except they are Steve’s fingers now, and Bucky has to get used to that.
It’s liable to be tough, when he looks at how broad Steve’s hands are now, how they can easily wrap around Bucky’s wrist, fingertips meeting on the other side, as Steve tugs him into a secluded room.
The calluses are gone, the one on the inside of his middle finger and on the pad of his thumb and forefinger, formed from too many hours holding a pencil, brow furrowed in concentration over his sketchpad.
There are no hangnails, the nails are clean and unbitten, as if Steve doesn’t have time to worry at them anymore. No more time spent curled up and lost in thought, finger against his lips, flash of teeth and tongue that always used to make Bucky need to squirm.
But they still touch him the same.
Still brush gently against the line of his cheekbone, cradle his jaw, even if Bucky has to look up now to see into Steve’s eyes. They still slip into his hair, tender and sweet, tilting his head for a kiss that’s at a different angle than anything Bucky’s used to.
They still tremble slightly against him, sliding down his neck, when Bucky takes a soft kiss and makes it something more.
And those fingers still cling to him, grasp and pull at the fabric of his clothes, when he coaxes Steve’s tongue into his mouth and sucks.
Steve’s hands are a little more rough than usual when they drop to Bucky’s belt. But it’s been so long, for both of them, and Bucky needs this, shit, he needs this so bad. Deftly pulling at the buckle and zip, and then Steve’s slipping his hand inside, and it’s a good thing Steve’s mouth is there to devour any noise, because Bucky hears himself shout, far too loud, muffled against Steve’s lips.
For a moment he’s shaking, spinning, because that isn’t Steve’s hand, too big, all wrong, and Bucky can’t breathe.
And then Steve’s fingers are wrapping around him, and it’s familiar, it’s okay, because Steve still touches him just the way Bucky remembers. Delicate, almost fluttery touches giving way to something harder, strong pulls and a sure grip and a rhythm Bucky knows too well because it matches the beat of Steve’s heart.
They are Steve’s fingers, and Bucky lets his head fall back against the wall, hips arched forward, content to relearn the feel of them on his skin.
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Rating: R
Words: 468
Notes: For
comicdrabbles, prompt "fingers".Steve’s changed so much.
It kind of kills Bucky that he wasn’t there, that he missed so much of it.
He’s still Steve, though, and that’s the most important thing. Still has his eyes, his smile, his heart.
It’s just his body that has changed. Those aren’t his feet, his chest, his shoulders, his fingers.
Except they are Steve’s fingers now, and Bucky has to get used to that.
It’s liable to be tough, when he looks at how broad Steve’s hands are now, how they can easily wrap around Bucky’s wrist, fingertips meeting on the other side, as Steve tugs him into a secluded room.
The calluses are gone, the one on the inside of his middle finger and on the pad of his thumb and forefinger, formed from too many hours holding a pencil, brow furrowed in concentration over his sketchpad.
There are no hangnails, the nails are clean and unbitten, as if Steve doesn’t have time to worry at them anymore. No more time spent curled up and lost in thought, finger against his lips, flash of teeth and tongue that always used to make Bucky need to squirm.
But they still touch him the same.
Still brush gently against the line of his cheekbone, cradle his jaw, even if Bucky has to look up now to see into Steve’s eyes. They still slip into his hair, tender and sweet, tilting his head for a kiss that’s at a different angle than anything Bucky’s used to.
They still tremble slightly against him, sliding down his neck, when Bucky takes a soft kiss and makes it something more.
And those fingers still cling to him, grasp and pull at the fabric of his clothes, when he coaxes Steve’s tongue into his mouth and sucks.
Steve’s hands are a little more rough than usual when they drop to Bucky’s belt. But it’s been so long, for both of them, and Bucky needs this, shit, he needs this so bad. Deftly pulling at the buckle and zip, and then Steve’s slipping his hand inside, and it’s a good thing Steve’s mouth is there to devour any noise, because Bucky hears himself shout, far too loud, muffled against Steve’s lips.
For a moment he’s shaking, spinning, because that isn’t Steve’s hand, too big, all wrong, and Bucky can’t breathe.
And then Steve’s fingers are wrapping around him, and it’s familiar, it’s okay, because Steve still touches him just the way Bucky remembers. Delicate, almost fluttery touches giving way to something harder, strong pulls and a sure grip and a rhythm Bucky knows too well because it matches the beat of Steve’s heart.
They are Steve’s fingers, and Bucky lets his head fall back against the wall, hips arched forward, content to relearn the feel of them on his skin.
