bakerstreet | body heat meme

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[warning] nsfw

body heat meme

The Body Heat Meme

Post with your character! They're now stuck in a very cold place of your choice. It can be anything, such as a freezing chamber, a cavern or a small cabin in the midst of a blizzard. The choice is up to you.
Comment around! Now your character has some company in this bone-chilling environment. The two of them share two things in common: clothes completely unfitting for this weather (be they summer clothes or even lingerie) and a blanket.
A blanket? Yes, just one warm blanket and no other ways to escape the cold. The two of them will have to share it in order to stay alive in this weather. Don't worry, you're sure to find a common language in this terrible situation!
So, uh, have fun, I suppose. Try to not freeze to death!
Protip: friction and body heat are both excellent ways to fend off cold.

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Is it my turn to be offended yet?

[ Not that he actually is. The earlier days, maybe. Then, Tony seeing him like a machine to be tinkered with was actual fact. These days, less so. He says things like that and Bucky knows what he means, grins to show it, and kisses him back.

Repeated contact. Well. He's heard of crazier plans, hasn't he? ]

Maybe. Shall I kiss your wounded pride to make it better?

[ He thins he shall, leaning down to dip into Bucky again, tongue a warm, lazy thing against chill lips and breath. It'll take time, he knows that, but it's worth doing. bucky's always worth doing (his inner twelve year old snickers) but this is more than just fucking around to fuck around.

This'll help. And Tony? Is a helper. ]

[ It's helping, that much is certain. Just having him there, sprawled across him and lazily dipping into his mouth, like it's Sunday afternoon with nowhere to be...there are places inside the cold still clings, but here, he just feels the relief of it.

So it seems fitting to touch back. It's the metal palm that reaches for his cheek, thumb brushing against the firm angle of his jaw and the scratch of beard. ]

[ Unlike the rest of him, the arm's temperature doesn't warm as quickly (whatever it is probably wasn't meant to function with this kind of prosthetic) or cool as quickly, living somewhere in the middle of this push and pull- Tony leans into his palm, hands smoothing back to cradle Bucky's head, giving himself a better angle for deepening the kiss.

Taking his time might be their best bet- which is good because he's in no mood to rush. ]

[ When are they ever? It's not how any of this came together in the first place, after all.

Humming low in the back of his throat, Bucky shifts beneath him. Starts to slip a thigh up against Tony's just for the movement, the friction, the touch. It's almost absently done, familiar and easy, and so too is nudging his way back into that kiss, head tilting to avoid awkward sleepy nose-bumping.

It's less endearing than it sounds, once it's happened once or twice. ]

[ It's a lack of expectation and a wealth of appreciation- why they fit, why they work.

There's a vague interest- two days without real sleep, Bucky is cold where they're not touching and that's still weird- but there's almost always a vague interest. It's difficult to not be interested, honestly, and the longer they're at it, the more idle touches become warmth for more than just Bucky? When longstanding coals get a flicker of life to start smoldering- the interest becomes less vague, more pointed.

And Tony starts planning as he judges Bucky's thighs apart, tangling their legs. His usual method won't work- it'll leave Bucky's chest exposed to become cold, so. Hands and mouth from the neck up until he needs to move. He can do that. ]

[ There are logistics involved, but that's kind of Tony's thing, isn't it? Planning around the problem and solving it with that smug, satisfied look he gets when he's just finished a project.

Only in this case, it's keeping his boyfriend from freezing from the inside out. Not a new machine. Still. Details.

When he feels that tap against the inside of his thigh, he shifts. Heels press into the mattress to leverage his weight up, pressing him further up against Tony, and earning a slow grin pressed into the inside of that kiss. ]

You've got a plan.

[ Not a question. Not when he gets a certain way about him. ]

Mhmm. [ He drops a kiss to Bucky's jaw, one hand already sliding down. Chest, ribs, hip, curling down where their bodies aren't already touching. The curves of him that sink into the mattress, the outside of his thigh, the almost delicate skin behind his knee. He shifts until he's straddling one of Bucky's legs, his other hand rubbing up and down in slow circles to make up for the loss. ]

It's going to be a little tricky, but I think I've got it figured out.

[ The heat starts to trickle away the second he moves, but that gently circling hand keeps it from disappearing entirely. Clever. Keep moving, cover more area, keep more of him warm while working up to what they need.

Bucky chuckles. ]

You have an audible smirk. You knew that, right? So damn pleased with yourself...

[ Not that he's any less pleased, mind you. ]

You say that like you don't have one yourself, Bucky-bear.

[ He nuzzles in under Barnes' jaw, mouthing at the skin, dragging his teeth across stubble until he finds his pulse and starts working in a slow bruise. Something to draw the heat up to the surface of his skin, maybe send it in deep for when he moves on to somewhere else.

His hand glides up to brush Bucky's cock, and considering the cold he's not surprised to find him not all fired up and ready to go. It'll take longer- good thing he doesn't mind it. Fingers feather light he runs them from root to tip, teasing the underside with his nails. Working him up slow and easy like it's any other day. ]

[ There's a hissed curse that slips past his teeth, but it's so soft the air swallows it almost immediately. Gone again. Teeth against his throat are usually cause for concern, some base level of panic, but not here. Instead, it proves difficult not to simply bask in the warmth granted and instead lifts his hips up into that touch.

Might not be hard, but it still feels just the same. And Tony's so good with his hands it ought to count as a sin. Bucky hums, eyelids lowering slightly. ]

'Takes one to know one'? Something like that...

Well, I mean- [ Mumbled against Bucky's skin, voice low and warm and almost more palpable than audible. There's the smirk again and sure he's entirely too pleased with himself. He's sort of earned it. ] I am the one with a smoking hot supersoldier in my bed, happy to see me.

What's not to be smug about?

[ The way he arches up, the soft little sighs that speak of enjoying this- what's not to enjoy? Hard to not be smug when he can feel a different kind of shiver starting to work here, his fingers stroking warmth into Bucky one teasing inch at a time. ]

[ Bucky's grin is all teeth. In fact, those teeth find a spot on the shell of Tony's ear to nip, and it's not just about warming up at this point. ]

Flatterer.

[ But teasing aside, he can feel those fingers at work, feel his body waking to the touch and straining for it. Let it. Just breathe and let it rather than tensing up or overthinking it, and take the opportunity to nuzzle the flecks of grey at Tony's temple. ]

Besides, not like that's not usually the case.

Not flattery if it's the truth.

[ Easy and offhand and entirely sincere, as sweet as the flick and twist of his hand over and around the head of Bucky's gradually rousing cock is sinful. It's fun, taking his time. Learning the changing shape of him, knowing for certain he wants this.

Likes when he gets playful, the sharp edge of teeth twisting it's own shiver out of Tony. ]

[ The truth. Heh. The truth is his life is twelve kinds of unconventional, on a good day. This shouldn't be the constant, the thing he gets to have, considering the things he's done. But Tony is every bit as honest as he is flippant, and there's no question that he means it.

Scars, trauma, and all the other baggage, and they still get to work through this, day after day. He gets that chance.

His teeth rake against his own lip after a moment, eyelids fluttering shut. When he speaks, it's a little thicker, a little lower than usual. ]

Don't remember that rule. Tease.

Not a tease if I mean to follow through.

[ His fingers skid along the underside, palm rolling over the head of his cock, thumb flicking across the slit. Little by little he's firming up, and the gradual shift from semi-stoic and sarcastic to breathless and rumbling is fucking fascinating to chart in real time. ]

Because I am going to follow through. Hey, do me a favor? [ They're close to the edge of the bed, that makes this easier. ] First drawer of the nightstand, grab the lube? Try using your metal arm, it's not changing temperature so dramatically.

[ That arm curls outward, metal plates winking in the dim display lights across the room, and a finger hooks into the drawer handle to tug it out. Same arm he's lost twice. Once to Stark. Hurt like a son-of-a-bitch...

Past that point, now. If the hand on his dick was any indication. The swipe of a calloused thumb pad over the slit gets a jerk and a soft, affectionate swear.

Before the bottle of lube gets shoved up against the meat of Stark's shoulder with a swift intake of breath to steady him out again. ]

Cheater.

Hardly. If I was cheating I'd be using my tongue.

[ Which he can't do without leaving Bucky exposed to whatever cold is seeping out from his skin, so. Hand it is, using all his usual tricks to get him worked up enough for this to be good. Having the lube helps, a flick and a click of the lid gives him a (slightly chilly) palmfull that eases the friction between his hand and Bucky's skin. ]

[ Funnily enough? The chill doesn't last long. Something about touching skin is all that matters, like it's a last warm meal, and he just drinks it in. God, he's been so starved for affectionate touch that his nerves still crackle alight whenever they recognize it.

One day he might take hard and enjoy it. He used to. Right now, Tony seems to know exactly what it is he does need. ]

Shit--

Got you. [ Got him going, got him mostly there and it's as good a place to start as any, fingers curling tight to pump him slick and slow to help him along the rest of the way. ] So I was thinking-

[ And it's an important thought, here, do pay attention. ]

I'm going to have to take it slow. Maximise contact and duration of said concact, you know? It might take awhile. Or do you want this done as soon as possible?

Knew it was gonna be slow, it's always slow...

[ Not that he cares. Not that that makes it anything but good, dragging it out until he can barely stand to stay in his own skin, because the hands roaming over him and touching and exploring are done hurting him. He trusts him to make it good, always.

Still, there's a restless little shift against the sheets, those half-lidded eyes resting on Tony as best they can, close as he's sprawled himself. ]

Don't think I mind now, do you?

[ slow enough to ache for hours afterward and always, always worth it. To watch Bucky come apart under his hands, to get that sleepy pleased smile afterward ...

It's worth doing and worth doing well. ]

Not even a little.

[ Tony smirks as his slick hand wanders low, palming Bucky's balls, giving them a slight tug. ]

[ The words slip off his tongue at that point. Noise? Yes, there's definitely noise, a breathless little slip as his hips lift off the sheets, his fingers curling towards his palms. Half-hard, now, and it seems a lot for so little, but he can feel the cold retreating. It hasn't disappeared entirely, but the heat seems to have caged it in a smaller and smaller space inside his chest. ]

Nnn...

[ Better? Better. The heat seems to be sticking around a little longer under Bucky's skin even if he moves his hand elsewhere- giving Tony the courage to move. To none too subtly nudge Bucky's thighs apart so he can slip his fingers down, rolling them up against his hole with slick, certain fingers. They manage by inches every time; a little work, a little patience- and it's always, always rewarding.

Especially when one or both of them goes nonverbal. ]

[ Words don't need to be a thing. They often are, the slightly barbed jabs they throw at each other as much a part of the foreplay as anything. But this is when it starts to sink bone deep, and all he wants to do is concentrate on the feel of it.

Like that, there. Rolling his hips and pinching his lower lip between his teeth, with a muted growl trapped in the back of his throat. ]

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