[Steve always had a bit of a thing about Bucky's hands--hands in general, to be honest, but particularly with Bucky because his hands were so often taken up in the work of punching out the bullies that Steve got himself tangled up with, or pressing a cool cloth over one of Steve's bumps as he told him off for getting himself in over his head. There was a point, when Bucky first started dating, that Steve actually courted more trouble than he normally would just to make sure he still had a reasonable chunk of Bucky's attention. And touch.

It's strange and a little sad to feel the smooth metal plates stroking his cheekbone, but it's still Bucky. And on the other side, there's that familiar callused thumb and warm palm.]

We have all the time in the world, Buck. You don't have to be ready, there's no rush. [Steve isn't sure how ready he is. Upstairs brain isn't sure, that is. Downstairs brain doesn't require nearly so much nuanced thought to make a decision.] It's just good to be like this...

[He trails off and sinks into another kiss gladly. It feels like they're moving slow, underwater, but it's warm, comforting water, not like plunging into chilly rivers together. And they can breathe, against one another's skin.]