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bakerstreet2017-03-16 06:46 pm
newsockfeeling) wrote in bakerstreet2017-03-16 06:46 pm
Entry tags:
the soul bond meme
"I can't live without you...literally."
Wake up. Do what you have to. Work. School. Save the world. Avenge your father's death. Go back to sleep. Average day, for human, demon, sailor scout, angel, slayer, what have you. Though there's some part of you that wonders, in the back of your mind, if this is the day you'll meet your bond.
Because your world is just like ours - or how yours was, in another universe - but with one addition: the soul bond. The soul bond is a concept as old as time itself. People don't question the process, it just is. Some say that it comes from the beginning of time, where each soul was created in a pair, and throughout the lifetimes those souls are reborn into, they search for each other. This is the soul bond. Even if that's mostly faded into myth, it's generally excepted that there is only only one person for anyone. So, soulmates.
Not exactly. Soul bonds are more. They are about the joining of bodies: sexually and psychically. The bond isn't necessarily about love, though the close connection facilitates that emotion growing, and some fondness does appear in almost every case. It's bigger than love, bigger than hate, bigger than anything else; it's finding yourself in someone else, and your never wanting to lose that. Needless to say, the soul bond is the cornerstone of life and society. Marriage is reserved for the bonded, and you're expected to be searching for that other half. There's a good biological reason for that, too, as the unbonded cannot reproduce and those who have not found their bond are doomed to die extremely early in comparison to their peers and in a most painful, withering fashion. Who would want that?
In this world, sex is had with those who are not the other half of your bond, even if society considers that frivolous. For the truth is, sex with any other will never be as good as sex with your other half. When you make love to someone who isn't yours, you'll know it. It's a disappointment.
When you so much as see your bond for the first time, or at least for the first time after you've reached sexual maturity, you'll know, even if you're already "with" someone else. The signs are inescapable. You'll know it's them. You'll become hyper-focused on them, your heart will race, your muscles tighten, your brain shoot off every signal it nose...and you will become aroused beyond belief. Any arousal you've had prior pales in comparison. So go ahead, if you don't want a bond, ignore it. Try. It won't work. The more you ignore it, the more control you'll lose. Did I forget to mention? In this world, sexual drives are a little more animalistic than usual. They would have to be when the mainstay of the races is a sexual-based bond. Those who try to ward off the desire to become one with their other half can achieve mild success - until they absolutely lose themselves. It's not uncommon to see bonds going at it in the streets, unabashed and unashamed, for trying to hold off the inevitable. Sex between bonds in public, generally, is not looked down upon.
You've given in. Of course you did. But what now? The first time you have sex with your bond, it will be beyond compare. You will share memories with each other, as this is the opening of your psychic connection with them. Yes, psychic connection. How would you expect to be truly bonded otherwise? How strong this link is depends on how often you have sex. Even at baseline, though, you'll know if your bond is hurt or in trouble. Fair warning: this will pull at that animal brain, and you will go into a beserker mode to get them back with you. Similarly, you will behave in a territorial manner if you feel the bond is threatened; jealousy often results in shameless public sex, in hopes to re-establish the strength of your connection and make your bond realize that YOU'RE the other part of them, no one else. In addition, bonds don't handle separation well and each partner will be antsy and on edge. It can be done, and most pairs do because of work, duties, and life in general, but returns are usually accompanied by sometimes days-long sex sessions.
Aside from those quirks, the bonding process can be quite useful. A bond can calm you down, and sex with your bond can serve as the ultimate relaxer. Your bond is the one who can heal you, and sex boosts your strength and power. Yes, those of you looking to achieve your ultimate goal...or ultimate form. Being a bond makes you stronger. Don't resist, no matter how surly you are.
The bond is no respecter of person. Outside of sexuality such as straight or gay, types or species don't matter. You could be bonded with someone as different from you as night and day. However, no matter what the case, you'll begin to care for them in some fashion. You'll feel the need to be with each other as much as possible, both sexually and otherwise. They'll become the most important person in the world to you. Of course, this is assuming your bond is someone you can feasibly be with. Perhaps there is some truth to that reincarnation business, as sometimes, those souls are reborn into people who are never meant to be bonds - warring tribes, at-odds species, and even relatives or people with a great amount of age between them.
The bond is permanent. This is the person you were meant to be with, after all, until you die (and soul bonds usually die within years of each other). Theoretically, though, it can be broken. Mostly, this is done when one side betrays the other side somehow. As the bond is initiated through sex, it's broken in the same way. What happens next is rarely pretty. Police reports usually find the bodies of the dead bonded, cause of death specifically unknown.
Head spinning yet? It shouldn't be! This is the world you live in.
rules
- Comment with your character, preferences, what you're interested in, and what you're not interested in.
- Crosscanon tagging is expected and encouraged. Mention if you want to make some kind of canon-insertion AU with one of the characters or just have a nebulous AU.
prompts- Meeting - You see your bond in that way for the first time, and it's done. You're done. You have to have them to be complete.
- Trying to Fight It - No, you're the type who rebels against this whole "soul bond" system. You're the master of your own design, and you won't give in despite the fact that you could just start masturbating right now.
- Failure to Fight - The whole fighting thing didn't work out, and now you're going at each other like you'll die of thirst.
- First Time - The legendary first time with soaring sensations, amazing orgasms, and the sharing of memories.
- Not the Sharing Type - You're a private person and don't want your brain in someone else's. How can you reconcile this? Maybe doing the act can change your mind. Or maybe you just want relief so badly, you don't care.
- Feedback - You feel all of your partners pleasure as well as their pain. If you can't come up with something kinky, I can't help you.
- Dirty Thoughts - You know what's naughty? Sending mental images of what you'd like to do to your bond through your connection. It's like mental sexting - or a fun way to torture them.
- Learning About Each Other - You're learning what both of you like and don't like and sharing as you go.
- Jealousy - Someone tried to approach your bond and it made you a bit miffed. Now it's time for some affirmation of the connection and to make sure that you're still on their mind.
- Rough Bond - Your bond is more hate than love sometimes, but it's a thin line. Besides, you still care more about them than anyone else, and god forbid someone hurt them. Besides, rough sex is fun.
- Separation - You'll be apart for a while. You need one last hurrah
- Reunion - You're back together. Now to make up for lost time. Not just because you want to, either.
- Public - Remember how I said sex in public is accepted for bonds. Why not take advantage?
- Chasing That High - You keep having sex with people, trying to find you bond.
- Chasing That Low - In contrast to the above, you're trying to keep away from a bond by desensitizing yourself to sex.
- Bond Party - Some young people throw "mixers" where, hopefully, you may meet your bond. Experimentation is bound to happen...even experimentation with multiple people at the same time, trying to find that one.
- Can Never Be - Your bond is with someone you shouldn't have one with. They're your sworn enemy, your teacher, or your sibling. Your body and soul says yes, but your mind says no.
- Strengthen - You need energy to defeat the big bad or rule the world. Go to your bond and recharge.
- Comfort - A bond is often the only one who can calm their other half down, and that sometimes happens through a grounding via sex, bringing the upset party back to what really matters.
- Healing - Healing wounds and healing the connection all comes down to body pressed against body. Just be careful of blood.
- Long Time Bond - You've been together for some time now and you know each other like the back of your hands. You can make them come in ten seconds flat if need be, but it's more fun to drag things out, isn't it?
- Ritual - You want to make your bond official in the eyes of the government. Unsurprisingly, the marriage ceremony is ritualistic sex.
- Impregnation - There's no fertilization between the eggs and sperm of non-bonds, so one surefire way to make sure everything's on the up and up is to get pregnant.
- Mind Games - Being psychically connected is all good until they fuck with your head.
- Dependency - It's not always easy, being for, all intents and purposes, addicted to a person. You need them like you need breathing, and you'll take what you can even if you're ashamed.
- Already with Someone - You love someone, but they're not your bond. Can they keep you when you meet your real bond?
- I'm Not Yours, You're Not Mine - You know you're not bonds. Still you want them to stay with you and you'll do anything and try to be better.
- False Bond - You thought you were bonded, you really did, until you met them
- Faking It - There are benefits to faking a bond, including for safety, financial gain, and to secure alliances. Of course, you can't fake it in the bedroom.
- Manipulating - You'll get what you want, even if you have to lie and pretend you're bonded to them...how you can fake that, no one knows, but it's worth a shot.
- It's Not Me, It's You - Sometimes, mistakes are made. They're your bond, but you're not theirs.
- Break the Bond - Because you have a death wish or a snuff kink.
- My Ex-Lover is Dead - Your soul bond is gone and you're trying to fill the gap.
- OR MAKE UP YOUR OWN
2
Then there'd been Odessa, and she'd felt it. The knowledge and the heat burned through her as she looked at him -- almost like the bullet he put through her side. She hadn't told Clint, hadn't told anyone about it. She tried to ignore it, useless as that was, pretended she didn't have dreams about a man with a metal arm. Years later, when she'd told Steve about the Winter Soldier, she'd conveniently forgotten to mention it. It's a secret she buries deep as she can, pretends it doesn't gnaw at her insides.
And every time they fight it just gets worse. At the Embassy when he pins her to the table with his fingers around her throat he leaves no marks, but she can feel his cool fingers burning on her skin for hours. She tells herself that choosing to help them at the airport is about Steve and not him, and that makes it a little easier. Even if some animalbrain part of her wants to rip out T'Challa's throat for trying to hurt a man that's almost killed her three times over.
When she finally joins up with Steve and the others, she does her best to avoid him. She makes sure to never leave herself alone in a room with him. Steve notices, and one morning in the kitchen there's a brief talk about giving Bucky a chance -- and she still doesn't tell him. Because telling Steve means making it real, and Natasha's still fighting this as hard as she knows how. But the truth is that Steve's missing the point: Bucky isn't the one she doesn't trust. She doesn't trust herself.
But things never quite go according to plan, and one day when she walks into the gym, he's already there. Seeing him without his arm still makes her chest twist in a way she tries to not think about too closely. But, she's suddenly left with the prospect of either transparently running away or trying to muddle through some kind of interaction. She chooses the later, even if they both feel a little like losing.]
Morning. [She doesn't make eye contact as she says it, a slight show of a smile and a tilt of her head in his direction as she tucks some stray red hair behind her ear as the door wings shut behind her. Natasha tosses her towel on a bench and heads toward the hanging bag. Somewhere to look that isn't him, even if she's so hyper-aware of his presence it makes everything else seem pale in comparison.]
How are you doing? [A slight flick of her eyes at him, taking in the fabric-covering on where his metal arm used to be, implying what she means. Maybe it's indelicate, but she needs something to say that isn't how she feels. She can't imagine he'd want someone else in his head anymore than she does. It's for the best, isn't it?]
So, my job sucks, because I work odd hours.
In DC the same thing had happened. He suspects, now, that her shooting out his glasses had been planned and she hadn't missed at all. But while he'd fought her, and even fallen for her little joke of a distraction with the phone, he hadn't been able to kill her.
Then, Vienna. It had been attacking her, and holding her life in his hand that had broken through the deep programming that that bastard had triggered.
He doesn't tell Steve that, because Steve can't know. Steve has his own issues with soulbonds, and is working his way through them. Bucky will help Steve, but they pointedly don't talk about Bucky's possibility for a soulbond. Bucky isn't about to point out that he's already got one.
The gym is quiet, and he's avoiding Steve. His best pal is hovering and while he understands, he needs a moment to himself. But then she walks in. His back is to the door when it opens but he knows who it is, despite the softness of her step. He can imagine the sway of her hips as she walks into the gym and knows that they can't keep dancing around each other forever.
But damned if he isn't going to try. ]
Morning. [ If he's polite, he can keep her at a distance. She doesn't need to know all the things he's done, all the horrors and atrocities he's committed. She's better than that. She'd proven that.
Steve had been trying to talk her up, tell Bucky that it isn't him that makes her keep her distance. If only Steve knew.... ]
Fine. [ He used to be so good at small talk. Used to be able to talk the girls up, and here he is with the one person he should have been able to talk to, and he's barely able to get out a couple of words. ]
Have you seen Steve? [ He's avoiding his best pal. He'll go find somewhere else to hide if Steve is on his way here. ]
no subject
The gym is quiet, and that was what she was looking for. Some peace and quiet, some place where she could just move, and focus on something that isn't how her thoughts race every time he crosses her mind. It's the opposite of what she wanted, but she couldn't bear the thought of just turning around and running away so obviously. Normally, she put her inability to not focus on him to good use, learned his schedules as best she could, so that they could orbit around each other without coming into contact to the extent it was possible.
But now they're here and she doesn't know what to do. So, she does the only sensible thing, which is to start hitting the bag, bare knuckles against it with that satisfying slap of contact and sound. Because he talks, and even brief, polite as it is, it still smoulders inside of her, his voice makes her heart skip, and she hates it. Or she tells herself she does, at least, manages even to at least halfway believe it. She doesn't understand how people can actually enjoy the thought of something that makes them so powerless, makes them so open and vulnerable to someone else.
She hits the bag a little harder, looking over at the question briefly with a shake of her head.] Not since before dawn.
[It has been in the kitchen. They'd both filled their coffee cups, Natasha added a spoonful of sugar. They hadn't talked much, but it had been a companionable sort of silence, unlike this. Here, it's not silent, but the quiet in between the spoken words stretches uncomfortable. Like something pushed hard, close to the breaking point, but she doesn't want to acknowledge that, either. That avoiding him like this and yet being so close, so painfully aware of him is grating against her.
She keeps hitting the bag, and her form's easy, perfect, nearly, but there's a shake in her hands, and it just makes her hit harder. As if she can make the bag swing hard enough to detract from how he affects her. Usually she's good at conversation, playing a mark with a smile and a shine to her eyes, that sway of her hips. She feels like she should say something but she can't find the words.
So she darts a look over at him, tries to weight the situation, and the words that follow are softer, though she's back to staring at the heavy bag as it sways.]
I don't think he'll be looking for you for a while yet.
no subject
He closes his eyes, not looking out over the beautiful vista that the windows frame. Maybe he should leave. Not just the gym - that he should definitely leave - but Wakanda in general. If he left, he could blend into the crowd somewhere and just be another wounded man. Right?
Alright, even he has to admit that's a bit ridiculous. The press is too pervasive, too thorough. He'd be spotted, and someone would put together the armless man with the Winter Soldier. It might buy him a little more time, but not enough.
And, he's through running. He's through running away from his past, away from Steve, hell, even away from her.
Her words penetrate and he's sure that she's watching him. He opens his eyes and finds her reflection in the glass. ]
Probably sooner than you think.
[ He loves Steve, couldn't ask for a better pal, but seriously, the guy is a terrier. ]
Don't let me interrupt your workout.
[ He'll just be ogling her in the window like a creeper. ]
no subject
So Clint worries, looks at her with his brows draw and his lips pinched into a frown and when she tells him she's fine, she knows he doesn't believe her.]
You're probably right.
[Sometimes she almost hates him for what he does to her, but not really, not seriously. Not like she hates Tony in a way that has everything to do with the arm Bucky lost. She's honestly glad she didn't know when she'd decided to walk away from Tony and the Avengers.
He's distracting, like someone scratching against glass in the back of her mind with every breath, that awareness, the fact that he's so close. How little time, how little effort it would take to cross the distance between them, to push her hands against his chest, drag nails and fingertips against skin and just-- Natasha isn't the sort that gives in, she doesn't surrender. Not even to herself.
But when he mentions interrupting her workout the answer is low, half under her breath:]
It's not your fault. You can't help it.
[She regrets it almost as soon as she says it. She focuses on the heavy bag, coiling her strength as she puts her weight into her back leg, then rocking forward with a twist of her hips as she hits the bag hard enough to send it jangling erratically on its chains. It's satisfying, but not enough. She has to stop it before she can start a new rhythm, catching it against her fingertips and then goes back to the hard double-punch rhythm she'd started out with.
Her eyes briefly flicking up to look at his reflection in the window.]
no subject
Except, there was another anchor in his life, if he'd just let her. His eyes meet hers in the window. He can't help the hitch in his heartbeat, or in his breath. She's beautiful, always has been. When she's kicking ass and taking names he can't help but admire her.
He's across the gym and catching the bag before he realizes what's going on. His hand reaches out and slaps against the bag. He braces it against his body. She's welcome to hit it as hard as she dares. ]
Neither can you.
[ He's hyper-aware of her. He wants not to be, but he can't help it. ]
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Their eyes meet in the window and she shivers, the way her pulse races, and her breath catches. She forces her gaze away, resolute to focus on the punching bag, but then he's there, bracing it against his body as his hand slaps against it. It runs through her exactly how close he is. For a moment she can't help thinking how easy it would be to shift, move closer, touch-- but that's the bond talking, and she grits her teeth, jaw tight.
He's right. She can't focus on the bag when they're this close, instead her focus is on him, and when she punches, hard, almost vicious, the bag between them is really almost an afterthought. She knows he can take it, but at the same time, it's the only way she has to really fight back against the way he makes her feel.]
You don't need the blood on my hands.
[It's quiet, but the closer he is, the harder it is to resist the draw of it. She says it half to remind herself why this is a terrible idea, just what this bond means for people like them. She keeps her eyes on the punching bag, but this close it's like she can feel him. She doesn't think they've been this close since the last time they fought.]
Your Nat is *amazing*
No. She does. He can hear it. She believes that the blood on her hands is anything compared to his.
They've been dancing around each other, dancing around the truth. The bag is the only thing between the pair of them. He knows that he could spin around and grab her and it would be all over. The pair of them are fighting against it, but it isn't working. ]
I think you have it backwards.
[ The blood on his hands is far more than hers. He wants her. He wants to just reach out to her. She could be in his arms. And they would give in.
... And he would destroy her the way that he nearly destroyed Steve, and nearly killed her. Twice. ]
There's far more blood on my hands than yours.
[ He whispers the words. Keeps them intimate, and between the pair of them. ]
oh thank you so much!! I love your Bucky too he's so good.
Clint had given her a moral compass when so much of her life she'd been without one. It wasn't always an easy thing to live with.]
You didn't have a choice. It's not the same.
[Her voice a whisper. Part of her wants to ask him if he even realizes how much blood is on her hands, but that question is too vulnerable, goes down a road she has no interest in, and so she sticks to the point that's easier to talk about and harder all at the same time. He'd been a good person and they'd taken that away from him.
She'd just been raised to it. A little girl with a gun in her hand from the time she was strong enough to hold one. She hits the bag harder, enough to sting her knuckles red, as if she can punchhard enough to make him understand just what they're facing.
His past doesn't scare her, if she's honest. She's read his file. It's the idea of him seeing hers.]
I just thought I was on the right side. Turns out I'm not so great at knowing what that is.
Thank you! Do you have a plurk? I'm errantwritings
Of course, Natalia wouldn't be who she was, if she couldn't do both at once.
He grunts, and just holds the bag steady for her. He raises his eyebrows. ]
I knew, on some level, what I was doing.
[ And on some level he'd liked it. He'd liked being useful, thinking his best friend dead. But he'd always known that it was wrong. He shouldn't have done any of it, but did either of them really have a choice? Her, the Red Room; him, HYDRA. ]
But you do know. You chose the right side, back at the airport.
[ Not the best side. Not for her, but the right side. ]
I do! I'm natalia_vdova over there too :)
He raises his eyebrows, and there's a furtive moment where she meets his eyes as she pulls back for a moment, looking at him and she can feel how the body pulls at her, how it twists. That bond that she doesn't know how to escape. Leaving, walking away from this conversation and from him would be the smart thing, but it feels like she's caught in his orbit.]
Almost too late. I thought there was a middle road.
[Some way where they all walked away from it. Her lips curl, and she shakes her head. It had been almost idealistic, really. The idea that she'd get to keep her friends, that maybe if they played it right she didn't have to lose anyone. Clearly Steve had been rubbing off on her.
She's quiet for a moment, even a pause in the rhythm of her punches.]
None of them know, really. Not everything.
[A low murmur, lips pressed thin. Clint knows the most, but she's never been the sort to bare her soul to anyone. Never felt particularly inclined to fill in the gaps in her file, to give him every bloody detail. And that's what the bond asks and gives, every dark secret, every man woman and child she's killed. He's killed. They get the blood on each others' hands and hope that together they can bear it.
She can't pretend that doesn't shake her.]
no subject
Both of them should walk away. Both of them should... he doesn't want to leave her. He wants to be close to her, be on her side, and just let things take their natural course.
He sighs, feeling her tugging at him. He could reach out. She's so close. He wants to touch her, and just push her hair back. But if he touches her, they're both lost and he knows that. But still, the urge curls in his gut and makes his breakfast roil uncertainly. ]
No one needs to know everything. Not even me.
[ His words are gentle, soft, a caress that he wants to give her. ]
no subject
She wants him. She knows she does, can't stop thinking about pressing against him and pulling him down so that his mouth fits against her, her hands sliding up his chest. And if that's all this was she might not fight it so hard, when almost every muscle in her body wants to reach for him.]
I'm not sure we'll get that choice.
[It's her fear summed up in a whispered sentence, the thing that they've both had taken from them too much already. Their pasts are both blood-stained and forced upon them, and this almost feels like one more thing taken away.]
If not for the bond, would you..
[She trails off with a shake of her head because it seems like a worthless question, answers her frustration by picking up the rhythm of fists against him (the punching bag between them, but it hardly matters, does it?).]
no subject
She goes to ask a question and then she goes back to hitting the bag. He lets her get out her frustration for a few minutes. At a natural break in her rhythm, he steps out from behind the bag and in front of it. If she wants to hit something, she'll have to either hit him now, or move. Either way, he wins.
... Or something. ]
Would I what, Natalia?
[ He puts the Russian accent on her name. He knows what he is doing means doom for both of them, but he can't seem to help himself. ]
no subject
It's cheating, and he knows it. It's why he did it, because this is getting out of hand for both of them, and they probably passed the point they couldn't come back from a while ago if they're being honest.]
Would you want this, if not for the bond?
[It's quiet, a useless question because she doesn't think he can tell. Doesn't think she can tell with how being around him makes her ache, goes straight to her head. She takes a breath, then looks up at him, a few beats of her heart and she's slowly pressing fingertips against the fabric of his shirt.]
no subject
[ A small voice tells him that yes it matters. To her, to him. Would the bond not being there make this any better for the pair of them. ]
I know that when they erased everything else, they couldn't erase you.
[ Which is a huge admission for Bucky. He's never told anyone what it was like under HYDRA's thumb. But with her, it feels right.
He's prepared for her to attack him. Prepared for just about anything. But that soft touch against his chest are his undoing.
Growling, he reaches out and grabs her, pulling her in tight. He wishes he had a second arm to hold her, but his one will have to do. Locking eyes with her, he leans in and crushes his mouth against hers.
God, he's needed this. ]
no subject
In truth, the one that he does give her is more touching than she could have expected. The idea that she was something they hadn't been able to take away from him. That whatever this bond was, that there was a weight to it. That maybe it meant something.]
I always thought I'd lost it. That it was something else they took away; no distractions. Until I saw you.
[He growls and her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt as he pulls her in tight, close, those threads of resistance snapping as everything comes undone. His one arm wrapped around her as their eyes met and then it's their lips, his mouth against hers and she kisses him back hard and a little greedy.
He feels so good against her, the heat of him, the solidness of his chest and the way that their mouths press together leaves her breathless. Nothing should feel this good, but he does. Her fingers in his shirt pulling him in against her as her other hand moves up to curl at the back of his neck.]
no subject
It's like the click of a lock opening or closing, when he kisses her. Just something fitting so perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle.
He sighs, against her mouth, pulling back a little bit. He wants to ask her 'his room or hers' but he's a gentleman and he won't ask that. ]
They couldn't take it from either of us.
[ He promises her in a whisper against her lips. Cupping the back of her head, he pulls her in close and just holds her for a moment. Nothing sexual, just the pair of them, holding each other.
Then he pulls back and looks at her, his large hand smoothing down her hair. He leans in to kiss her again. ]
If you want me to go, you're going to have to tell me.
no subject
But he fits against her, her lips almost tingling, and she's half-breathless when they part. He gives her those words like a promise, like this is something they can't take. And that means something, the way he holds her against him, just lets her feel the proximity, breathe in the scent of his skin. And it's... good. She wants him, he makes her body ache for his touch, but it's not the mad fever-pitch she'd always imagined, like it is in books.
Her hands shift so she can wrap slender arms around him, holding onto him as her heartbeat races, fingertips slipping underneath the hem of his shirt so she can touch skin, soft and light.]
I don't want you to go.
[Her voice is a low murmur, but there's a certainty to it, a strength. She's never been shy about what she wants- though in truth there are few things she lets herself want- but this is irresistible. Natasha leans into it as his hand brushes down against her hair, a low murmur on her lips. It doesn't eliminate her concerns, but the idea of pulling away is impossible.
Instead, she pushes up onto the balls of her feet to meet him as he leans in to kiss her.]
no subject
In Odessa, he'd chosen to shoot through her, taking out the target. That had been harder than he'd like to admit. He'd felt the gunshot wound as if he'd shot himself.
In DC, he'd taken a lighter path, getting her out of the way of his objective. But still, it had burned through him who she was.
In Vienna, he hadn't taken the fatal path that he could have. No one knew that while he'd made her feel it, she was never in any danger, not from him.
Now, here they were in this African paradise, a place of safety and solitude and he had his hands on her in a completely different way.
His tongue begs for entrance into her mouth and sweeps in, tasting her in a way that he hasn't before. Her clever fingers make him hims shiver and goosebumps break out on his skin.
He trails his hand down, brushing over her back. The fingers sneak into her workout shirt and trace circles on the skin of her back. When he pulls back, he's panting and not unaffected. ]
I'm not going anywhere, Natalia.
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She expects his touch will linger here, too. The way he feels like heat against her as his tongue presses into her mouth as her lips part, a low murmur as her tongue slides against his, heat sparking at the feel of it. His hand sliding down her body, fingers sliding under her shirt and tracing circles on bare skin.
When they part, her breath comes a little faster, her lips flushed and her eyes bright. Fingers pushing a little further under his shirt, a light drag of nails against his skin, just feeling him under her hands. For the moment the allure was hotter than the worry- pressed against him it felt like some kind of reassurance that all of her broken edges might actually fit somewhere afterall.]
Good. I want you here.
[And she means it, nuzzling in lightly against his chest. She knows why she'd fought against this, but touching like this, pressed against him feels so right she doesn't want to let go.]
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He sighs into her hair and runs his hand up and down her spine. His fingers gently trace the small divot her spine makes in her back. She's so fragile, but also so strong. He knows how much she prides herself on her strength.
He leans in to kiss her again, and then there's a cleared throat from near the door. Bucky scowls, looking up, but at least he doesn't reach for a weapon. ]
Sorry. But we are ready for you, Sergeant.
[ The man shifts his glasses, and takes a step back when Bucky's scowl deepens. ]
I'm not going.
[ It's barely above a growl. Bondeds aren't usually happy about getting interrupted when they first acknowledge the bond. Hell, the guy is really lucky Bucky didn't pull a weapon. ]
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He shifts, moving in for another kiss and she's about to meet him when there's sound from the doorway. She's not even thinking about it when her hands shift to hold onto him tighter, but it's just one of the medical staff. Clearly the gym was a bad place for this, but she sighs, reaching up and curling fingers at the back of his neck, trying to be reassuring given the way he growls and the poor medtech seems notably worried under the weight of Bucky's scowl.
She understands it, honestly. Because she can't stomach the thought of letting go of him, giving him up even if she knows it's for a good cause. He's under her skin and she wants him, like letting go would be physically painful. But she leans up, nips softly against his collar, something that's half reassurance and half a please don't frighten the medical staff.]
You can reschedule him for tomorrow, right?
[Her tone is certainly more personable than Bucky's, but there's still an undertone that saying no is probably still inadvisable. They need to get out of here and somewhere without interruptions. Her room, she thinks.]
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The nip at the collar is not helping him control himself. He's fully ready to pick her up over his shoulder and haul her out of there. But it does distract him from frightening the medical staffer.
The man clears his throat uncomfortably and almost squeaks when Bucky looks at him again. ]
O-o-of course!
[ Hasty retreat: beaten.
Bucky doesn't care. He's got Natalia in his arms and a chance at something that's purer than he deserves. She is the one thing that has felt right all this time. Righter than Steve, although he'll never tell his best friend that.
But they should get out of here. The gym is no place for anything that he, at least, wants to do. ]
Your room or mine?
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My room's closer.
[There's a tilt of her head as she smiles at him, and there's a bit of trust in that, because she doesn't often invite people into her room. Not here where it's more than just a place to store her clothes, when she sleeps there and so it's a safe place. Her safe place.
Her room is also less likely to have Steve knocking on the door trying to check in on his best-friend. And while she normally approves of Steve watching out for his friend, right now she just wants him to herself. She presses a kiss to his collarbone, and then she's pulling back, reaching out to catch his hand because she doesn't want to let go.]
Come on.
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