seymour buttz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kentuckyfriedstripper) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2019-05-21 01:12 am
kentuckyfriedstripper) wrote in bakerstreet2019-05-21 01:12 am
Entry tags:
the floor is lava!!!
Just share the bed with me.
For whatever reason, the floor is unacceptable as a place to sleep. It's messy, the dog is there, THE FLOOR IS LAVA, or maybe there's flooding. Who cares why it's not acceptable, it just isn't. Normally, that's not an issue, but tonight you have a friend over. Maybe it's the safest place, maybe it's tornado season and your house is the only one out of the path of the storm. Stop trying to figure out the details, just get over it and share the bed with that person! Sexy times are not required. Intimacy is not required. Just share the damn bed already.
Do you need options? Here! Have some options!
1. It's late. You're tired. Too tired to drive and THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
2. It's late. You're drunk. Too drunk. Honestly, how did you drink that much and not die? Should we take you to the hospital? Here, just stay in this bed with me. No, you can't sleep on the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
3. It's early. You thought you'd just come by and visit but you can barely function. The bed seems inviting. Guess what, you're invited into the bed! Yes. The bed. Not the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
4. DO YOU LIKE TO SPOON? SPOONING IS OKAY. And yes, the floor is lava.
5. Figure out a reason why you need to share the bed.
6. The Crack Fun Insane Option - Actually Play the Floor is Lava Game!! Move about the room without touching the floor... because the floor is lava.
Do you really need options? I feel like everyone gets the idea of this meme.
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He could. A few seconds of Russian and he could make Bucky do anything.
And he'd lose everything in the attempt. All the trust, all the warmth, all the care and he'd be right to lose it. There isn't anything he can think of that would make taking that step worth it.
"I'd keep you all the time if you'd let me, but that'd drive you crazy. You have your missions and- it's complicated here. More than it used to be." That's on him. That'll always, always be on him. "Check in more often? I- even if you can't come by for awhile, I want to hear from you. To know you're safe. Give me a little peace of mind."
Or a lot. He runs his fingers down the length of Bucky's arm, tangling their fingers. "Send me dirty pictures or something. You know I miss you."
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But he does know that if HYDRA ever got him again, pulled the Soldier back to the surface, that he'd want Tony to do whatever he had to do. If that includes using the trigger words, then so be it.
"Life is complicated." He curls one hand into Tony's hair; petting through it soothes him as much as it does Tony, and right now he needs that soothing. It's selfish, he knows, to want things, to want Tony's attention, to want his friendship with Steve, to want to continue his work eliminating the last pockets of HYDRA that are too deeply hidden or too deeply protected for the Accords-abiding remnants of the Avengers to do anything about them. "But I'll call more often, if you want me to. I know it'll be a secure line if it's yours."
It's protecting both of them; HYDRA aren't the only ones who'd like to get their hands on Bucky, and Bucky knows that Ross would love to pin anything on Tony.
He snorts and rolls his eyes at Tony's suggestion though. "You're impossible." Clearly he doesn't mind it, and it's just the kind of thing he'd expect Tony to say to make him smile.
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Just enough plausible deniability should Ross come calling. Just enough space to keep Tony off of HYDRA's radar anymore than he already is.
Just enough to keep Bucky from forgetting him.
"No, I'm actually very easy. Doing anything in this hammock, that's impossible-" But it's not the urge or the mood, not really. Now it's lazy contemplation cured close, hands running over muscle and sinew, massaging Bucky's skin gently. Idly. Not entirely unlike a cat kneading a blanket when it's pleased, this kind of contact- settles Tony. He thinks it settles Bucky too. "Are you saying you don't want steamy sexts from me while you're on the road?"
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He tugs at Tony’s hair enough to get him to look up, captures his lips when he does. It’s a slow kiss, less burning passion and more quiet thanks for being there. For giving any of his valuable time to Bucky.
“The hammock is not impossible.” It’s not the time and neither of them are in the mood. He’s not even really arguing it; this is more just flippant stubbornness to let Tony know that this little tiny piece of things is okay. Bucky will change, will do whatever he needs to do for Tony, because it’s the least of what Tony deserves. “I’m sure that by morning we’ll have figured out at least five ways you could fuck me in it.”
But it’s not what either of them need, not right now. Now when he can have this instead, this quiet calm, Tony settling into his body, finally letting some of his tension slip away. Bucky sounds out softly, something between a chuckle and a purr, and can feel himself settling as well. “Are you saying you don’t want to send me steamy sexts while I’m on the road?”
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He's exhausted. Too long without proper sleep, too much worry, too much to do. That's never going to change but- he can sleep a little bit better tangled up like this, the steady beat of Bucky's heart under his ear, the quiet whirring of his vibranium arm. "Fresh one every night. Just so you know I'm missing you."
Terribly, hopelessly. He clings, he knows he clings, but Bucky's made it easy. Inviting this, inviting him to hold on. Between one breath and the next he starts to slip, fingers tangled with Bucky's, eyes drifting closed. IN the morning. He can detail how often and how in the morning.
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At least Tony is starting to settle in a little. Bucky can read it in the way he starts to go still, quiet and soft where they're tangled together and he's just glad that even with the strife and stress of the night, Tony feels comfortable enough to relax into this shared space. He rubs the back of his partner's neck, soothing the tension there while his other hand wanders down far enough to squeeze Tony's ass. It's not meant to lead to anything, more meant to accent their little tease. "I'll send back pictures to at least every third one."
Tony clings and Bucky doesn't mind it. Encourages it in fact, because deep down where it's hard to admit even to himself, he wants to be wanted, to be needed like this. Tony clings and Bucky just holds him closer, rubs his palms over Tony's back and tucks the blanket close, cradling him against his own body and murmuring softly in his ear, simple little phrases in English and French and Italian, telling Tony how glad Bucky is that they're spending the night together like this. It isn't until Tony's well and truly asleep that Bucky allows his own eyes to close; he'll likely still be half awake most of the night anyway.
But when dawn arrives it brings with it the warm weight of Tony's form against his own, their legs tangled, the blanket keeping body heat close. The hammock cradles Bucky and Bucky cradles Tony and sure it's not that traditional but he thinks he likes it anyway.
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Serenity. He doesn't get moments like this often. "Next time-"
He mumbles, like there will be a next time, and there might, if camping is a thing Bucky wants, like it's a couple thing they can do not hiding from the awkward moments in the compound- "We're putting up a...sunshade. Awning. Thing. Not ready to be awake yet."
Especially since he was able to actually sleep. Deeply, dreamlessly.
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“Better?” He hopes so, because Tony could most certainly use the sleep and there’s still a chance he could get some more of it this morning. He keeps his voice quiet and his touches gentle in an attempt to avoid bringing Tony too much toward wakefulness. He wants more than anything to kiss him deeply, soundly, but the impulse to do so can be push aside until he knows Tony is truly ready to wake.
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Which'll be closer to an hour if Bucky will let him get away with it, but he hasn't really been able to rest like this in- god knows how long.
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It’s definitely more than just five minutes, because Bucky has nowhere special to be other than right here in Tony’s arms. There’s nowhere he’d rather be, truly, warm in their little blanket cocoon with the rising sun chasing the early morning chill from the air.
Eventually his hands start to wander, rubbing and caressing at Tony’s back. It’s not the massage he’d promised but it's as close as they can manage in the hammock, and the sleep seems to have done great things for the amount of tension Tony normally holds in every inch of his body. He still hates himself a little for the state Tony had worked himself into that it drove him out here the night before, and makes a silent vow to do everything he can today to make it up to his lover. “Morning, babe. How’re you feelin’?”
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Rested. He hasn't felt this rested in a fair while, not entirely due to Bucky and his wandering but his own mind. "How about you?"
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"I always feel good when I'm with you." A sappy sentiment but a true enough one, especially for moments like this with the rest of the world still held at bay, when they're the only two people in existence and he selfishly gets to keep Tony all to himself. "I'll be sad to leave the hammock but you do have a pretty comfortable bed, as you reminded me."
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He already knows the answer.
"I'll make you an affogato again." He murmurs, slowly nuzzling the angle of Bucky's jaw, enjoying these last few moments of tangled up closeness. "Think I've got some of that Gelato from uptown that you like so much in the freezer."
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He has Tony in his arms and maybe he can even have Tony to himself for a few hours this morning; it's enough. It'll be enough.
"You don't have to go to the trouble." He tilts his head so that Tony has better access, closing his eyes at the warmth of Tony's breath against his skin. He doesn't want Tony to think that he's refusing something they've enjoyed together, or refusing the thoughtfulness that is going out of his way to get that Gelato. It just doesn't feel quite right for this kind of morning, when the last time they'd had it together had been a much more pleasant stringing out. "We could save it for a lazy afternoon instead, explore one of your other favorite coffees."
His smile turns a little mischievous as he tugs Tony closer. The hammock really isn't suited to this kind of teasing but that's no reason not to try, no reason not to recall a conversation from another morning tangled up in each other. "Think I'd like to make you a doppio and give you a blowjob instead."
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And it's a rare moment that Tony has a clear idea of what to do when it comes to the tangle of feelings in his chest, his throat. Intuition might've gotten them into this mess but- sometimes? It offers a way out.
Tony nips gently, lips brushing softly, lazily along the line of Bucky's jaw, trailing down to his throat. Murmuring into his skin as much as anything else as he knows full well Bucky will be able to understand him. "Mmm. Second favorite way to wake up."
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“Was your first favorite last time we talked about it.” Favorites like this cycle in and out though, that had also been a part of this particular conversation. He tips his head to give Tony more room to play even as his human hand slips under Tony’s shirt to trace patterns against the small of his back. “What’s taken the top spot now?”
Affogato, maybe? Tony had mentioned it, so maybe it’s claimed the top space for the time being. Or perhaps one of his other favorites has taken that spot. And perhaps Bucky’s asking to ty to get an idea of something nice he can do for Tony, to make up for the way he’d hurt him.
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New variables. Specificity where vague anybodies used to live, any face, any pair of hands, any cup of coffee.
"Not coffee, surprisingly enough. It was- um." Mumbling into the hallow of Bucky's throat, distracted by his fingers, by the stirring of embers and warmth against the morning's chill. "That black tea with jam melted in you made me that one time?"
Something simple he'd never thought of, something attached not to steamy nights and aching mornings but the pure, innocent domesticity of living with Bucky on the road, warming up after getting caught in the rain a second time with their bikes on the cross country trip to malibu. A middling hotel room, Bucky with his treasured brew in two chipped mugs and- James. Curled close around him, grounding him, reaching into Tony's chest to remind his heart what it's like to beat. The first time he thought 'oh god, I could love him', and the terrifying potential then hadn't taken hold just yet.
Now? It's well rooted and no less terrifying. But he's accepted it gladly, leaning up to kiss Bucky sweet and slow, breathing him in. "Moment of honesty: Any morning I wake up with you is a favorite."
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He goes quiet when Tony mentions the tea, memories of that evening coming back strong and clear. The rain, not as bad as the first storm but enough to soak them through. The hotel, not the best but better than getting colder and wetter trying to make it to the next major city. The shower, not as spacious as they’d like and definitely lacking in the cloudlike bathrobe department. He’d brewed tea in the in-room coffee maker, plain black Lipton bags slightly over-steeped and into which he’d stirred the contents of the little jam packets from the continental breakfast setup. Tony’s smile had gone from indulgent to surprised to something else that he hadn’t been able to identify at the time, but it had been enough to curl around him instead, warm and content and enjoying the simplicity of just being together, sharing space and body heat and rolling their eyes at the selection of channels to surf on the in-room tv. They’d ended up on an old Hitchcock movie eventually, only half paying attention to it and mostly paying attention to each other.
He returns the kiss slowly, carefully; there’s a weight to it, but he doesn’t think it's an uncomfortable one. An unusual one maybe, a weight he’s not quite sure how to wear, but he thinks it could maybe become similar to Tony’s physical body weight: something grounding and comfortable. “Now you’re just flattering,” he replies softly, because it’s easier to say than to try to put words to the complicated things he thinks he feels. “But I can at least make sure the next time you wake up with me is in a place better than a hammock.”
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Hiding.
Because of the situation they're no longer discussing because they've discussed it, chapter closed, new page, time to turn up the rating. Shifting until he's settled between Bucky's thighs doesn't take much as tangled up as they are, just as warm and comfortable and lazy as he'd been in that less than stellar motel, clothes drenched, warmed by sweetened black tea and Bucky's smile. "Like a bed? Or the sofa in the workshop. I'm not picky-"
Which is a blatant lie, he's terribly picky and he wants- it's easier to want than to care as deeply as he's come to, easier to stroke skin and lick and taste than to put words to this thing between them that's gone undefined for so long that defining it properly feels like it could break it. One rough palm slides to rest against Bucky's abdomen, petting the thin skin over his hips, head tilted to the side, eyes honeywarm and soft in the morning light. "As long as you're there? I'm happy."
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He hooks a leg high on Tony’s hip as his lover settles, giving him permission to touch and explore and determine what shape he wants the morning to take. The hammock really isn’t suitable for certain activities but if Tony wants to try he’d definitely give it a shot. He meets that gaze, sees the affection there and tries not to hide from it; Tony gives him far more than he deserves. His own hand strokes down Tony’s spine and settles just at the top of his ass, squeezing softly (and appreciating once more the perky firmness of the muscle there). “And what will make you happy this morning? I know it’s not this hammock...”
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Coffee and waffles to follow after- maybe orgasms, maybe a backrub. He doesn't much care how they are when they're tangled together so long as they're tangled together. He's missed being able to stretch out and laze, sate the bone deep gnawing hunger for contact, for affection that Bucky has only ever indulged with full enthusiasm. He gets it, wanting, needing. Doesn't have the same reservations and sharper edges as-
Well.
Others.
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He's not going to ask Tony to help him pack in the small camp he'd made for himself, not going to put the burden on his lover of seeing the evidence of how he's been living. Tony seems to guilt himself over so much; Bucky doesn't want to add to it any more than he already has. He just wants to give Tony what he's asked: his presence and his attention without question or hesitation. "Do you want to grab breakfast and bring it to bed with us?"
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If James. James is uncomfortable.
Tony leans up to press his lips to James' throat one last time before peeling away, slowly shifting to roll out of the hammock. He's struck immediately by the morning's chill, the soft curls of his breath in the air a reminder of the reality waiting for them outside of not just the hammock but any safe haven they carve for themselves. Most days? He might let that settle and sour, curdle in his chest. After last night's revelation? He's determined to ignore that leaden weight, turning instead to cup James' cheeks with his hands and kiss him, leaning away slowly to guide him back upright. "Come on, baby-"
It's laying it on a little thick, maybe, but- He wants to know if that works out here in the sunlight. When the sky is starkly blue and Bucky's eyes are a storm of emotion. "Walk me home?"
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He's hurt Tony enough.
He sighs into the press of lips to throat, lets his hands fall away reluctantly as Tony peels himself up. There's appreciation in his eyes as he watches the sinuous movement of his lover, the way Tony turns back to grant him another kiss. It's one he chases eagerly, sitting up in the hammock, letting Tony lead him up. The cool air of morning curls against his back, underlining the warmth they'd found all cocooned in canvas and wool, and he allows his lips to curl into a smile at the nickname. It's one that doesn't really transition much outside the bedroom, outside lingering in the lab or the garage or the kitchen, but it doesn't feel wrong either.
"Walk you home, is that all you want me to do?" He slips out of the hammock, raises arms above his head to stretch his back, shifts his hips side to side in smooth movements to wake everything up. It feels good and he rolls his shoulders as he lowers his arms to Tony's hips, pulling him close for a moment before tugging, lifting Tony against his body and spinning them in a slow circle. "Could carry you back too. Just might."