Matt takes a moment to discreetly adjust his erection and then stands. He plants his feet and reaches out to Bucky. He's heavier than usual, loose-limbed, and his chest collides with Matt's as he comes up. He tips Matt's head back and kisses him hard, almost proprietary. Matt's startled by the unforgiving strength of the metal fingers within the leather glove wound through his hair-- and if he's honest, more than a little turned on. Something's happened in the last sixty seconds. Bucky's been so careful to lead with the other arm, it's pleasing to see him lose it a little.
The arm traces down his back, then up his buttoned shirtfront. Bucky's breath is hot on his lips. Matt jumps a little as the bionic hand yanks his tie from around his neck in one pull. That, he decides, is also hot. He senses Bucky looking around.
"Bedroom's this way," he says, leading. "If that's what you're looking for."
Matt backs through the doorway as Bucky untucks his shirt, starts undoing the buttons. The air in the room is cool on his chest.
Bucky stops. The metal arm whirs as he lifts it, but then he clearly thinks better of it. The fingertips that touch his scars are flesh and blood. Matt is 90% sure Bucky's frowning as he looks him over.
"These are knife cuts. What happened to you?"
For a crazed moment he's tempted to tell him. He doesn't want to spoil the mood with either a serious conversation or a defensive refusal. And he definitely would like to come sometime soon. Buying time, he kisses Bucky with short touches of his lips and tongue.
"Make you a deal," he murmurs. "Don't ask about that, and I won't ask about..."
Whir of the metal fist closing.
"'Kay."
Bucky takes his time undressing Matt. A little of the heat's gone out of them now, and Matt's content to let Bucky's hands explore. They undo his belt, his trousers. Matt helpfully toes off his shoes. A hand flat on his chest pushes him back, but he arm blocks it away.
The surprise is evident in Bucky's posture and sudden stillness. Not wanting to put him on the defensive, Matt tugs at the hem of his shirt.
"You're still dressed," he whispers.
He knows he's treading a fine line. If he misjudges and makes Bucky feel exposed or threatened-- well, it could be a lot worse than Bucky just leaving him hard and wanting. The silence is excruciating. He tries to think of something that will put Bucky at ease again.
"I just... I just want to touch you. All of you."
Bucky exhales an unsteady breath. Matt skims his hands up Bucky's body, underneath the shirt. Bucky exhales again, harder, and then he pulls the shirt off over his head. Matt's hands move over his warm skin, his stomach, chest, shoulders. Cautiously, watching for any averse reaction, he runs his palm up to the scarred place where flesh meets machinery. His fingers crest Bucky's shoulder and linger on something painted onto the metal. A star. He doesn't understand, but he doesn't ask either.
His hands run over what seems to be a series of very thin metal plates, all interlocking in the most complex and finely-tuned thing Matt's ever come across. He takes Bucky's metal hand and gently pulls the glove from it. The fingertips are cooler, about room temperature. Matt flexes them and then lets go.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
He's just broken their agreement, but Bucky says nothing. They undress each other the rest of the way and climb into bed.
FILL - Haunted 5/?
The arm traces down his back, then up his buttoned shirtfront. Bucky's breath is hot on his lips. Matt jumps a little as the bionic hand yanks his tie from around his neck in one pull. That, he decides, is also hot. He senses Bucky looking around.
"Bedroom's this way," he says, leading. "If that's what you're looking for."
Matt backs through the doorway as Bucky untucks his shirt, starts undoing the buttons. The air in the room is cool on his chest.
Bucky stops. The metal arm whirs as he lifts it, but then he clearly thinks better of it. The fingertips that touch his scars are flesh and blood. Matt is 90% sure Bucky's frowning as he looks him over.
"These are knife cuts. What happened to you?"
For a crazed moment he's tempted to tell him. He doesn't want to spoil the mood with either a serious conversation or a defensive refusal. And he definitely would like to come sometime soon. Buying time, he kisses Bucky with short touches of his lips and tongue.
"Make you a deal," he murmurs. "Don't ask about that, and I won't ask about..."
Whir of the metal fist closing.
"'Kay."
Bucky takes his time undressing Matt. A little of the heat's gone out of them now, and Matt's content to let Bucky's hands explore. They undo his belt, his trousers. Matt helpfully toes off his shoes. A hand flat on his chest pushes him back, but he arm blocks it away.
The surprise is evident in Bucky's posture and sudden stillness. Not wanting to put him on the defensive, Matt tugs at the hem of his shirt.
"You're still dressed," he whispers.
He knows he's treading a fine line. If he misjudges and makes Bucky feel exposed or threatened-- well, it could be a lot worse than Bucky just leaving him hard and wanting. The silence is excruciating. He tries to think of something that will put Bucky at ease again.
"I just... I just want to touch you. All of you."
Bucky exhales an unsteady breath. Matt skims his hands up Bucky's body, underneath the shirt. Bucky exhales again, harder, and then he pulls the shirt off over his head. Matt's hands move over his warm skin, his stomach, chest, shoulders. Cautiously, watching for any averse reaction, he runs his palm up to the scarred place where flesh meets machinery. His fingers crest Bucky's shoulder and linger on something painted onto the metal. A star. He doesn't understand, but he doesn't ask either.
His hands run over what seems to be a series of very thin metal plates, all interlocking in the most complex and finely-tuned thing Matt's ever come across. He takes Bucky's metal hand and gently pulls the glove from it. The fingertips are cooler, about room temperature. Matt flexes them and then lets go.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
He's just broken their agreement, but Bucky says nothing. They undress each other the rest of the way and climb into bed.