[When they were boys, the cursed happily away at one another and cleaned it up in the presence of their families. Steve might have edged Bucky out for foulest mouth briefly, in the period after his mother died and he had no one to try to be civil for (except for Bucky himself, who didn't need the protection). After getting into the army, he felt compelled to be an officer and a gentleman. That's when the admonishments began. The rest of the Howlies may have assumed it was just Steve's personality. Bucky would have known better.
His eyes light up at the tease, and he catches his breath quietly at the flirt--or is it a promise? He hopes so. And he hopes it isn't possible to die of sheer joy, because if it is, he's not going to last out the day. That first sigh is followed by another hitching gulp of air, and Steve's eyelashes flutter closed, only to open again as Bucky pulls off his shirt. He makes a quiet, hungry sound in the back of his throat, and if Bucky wasn't sinking down against him again you can bet Steve would be pulling him close. Both arms go around his back, blunt nails pressing and scratching gently against his skin, and he kisses him like he's starved for it.]
You are everything I want. [He gasps against his cheek. Seventy years ago he would have shied away from that kind of sweet-talk, that blatantly tender reassurance. It would have sounded too much like being coddled and looked after, which was always something Steve fought in his scrawny, sickly days. Not today, though. Not when it's coming from Bucky's lips.] You're here. How'd I get so goddamn lucky?
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His eyes light up at the tease, and he catches his breath quietly at the flirt--or is it a promise? He hopes so. And he hopes it isn't possible to die of sheer joy, because if it is, he's not going to last out the day. That first sigh is followed by another hitching gulp of air, and Steve's eyelashes flutter closed, only to open again as Bucky pulls off his shirt. He makes a quiet, hungry sound in the back of his throat, and if Bucky wasn't sinking down against him again you can bet Steve would be pulling him close. Both arms go around his back, blunt nails pressing and scratching gently against his skin, and he kisses him like he's starved for it.]
You are everything I want. [He gasps against his cheek. Seventy years ago he would have shied away from that kind of sweet-talk, that blatantly tender reassurance.
It would have sounded too much like being coddled and looked after, which was always something Steve fought in his scrawny, sickly days. Not today, though. Not when it's coming from Bucky's lips.] You're here. How'd I get so goddamn lucky?