#'yeah i like compulsively and uncontrollably pull my hair and pick my skin until i bleed and it's incredibly distressing'

[afjakwritesarchive]

NWC #17

Title: Growing Pains Pairing: USUK  Words: 2,002 Rating: T AU: supernatural (incubus/vampire) Genre: Romance/comedy Summary:  In a world where supernatural entities are commonplace, Arthur Kirkland is accidentally placed under the spell of his newly-transformed incubus best friend, leading to some interesting revelations. A/N: Here’s some more NWC!! this one is trash lmao. also i started this on friday and just finished it today so i’m behind as helllll. 

It stared with the gradual blanketing of the room in a heavenly vanilla scent which seemed to wrap itself around Arthur. It invaded his senses in a distracting manner, breaking his focus away from the video game he was playing. The controller, gripped tightly in Arthur's hands only moments before, now slipped easily from his limp fingers and dropped to the floor. His green eyes fluttered and closed as he inhaled deeply, completely involved in the sweet vanilla that swirled around him. He hummed in pleasure, seeming content to simply sit with eyes closed and breathe it in for as long as he could.

"Arthur?" Came a sudden voice.

Arthur's eyes opened and he turned toward the source of the noise. He wanted to be annoyed by the interruption, but upon catching sight of the man beside him, all coherent thought suddenly fled his mind and he was left with only the knowledge that he was beautiful.

Wait.

Arthur hesitated a moment, blinking rapidly. That was Alfred, wasn't it? His best friend Alfred, the man he'd known since kindergarten. Alfred. Christ, that name sounded even more beautiful than usual for some reason. Or was it Alfred himself that was more beautiful?

"Have you done something different since I last saw you, my love?" Arthur inquired in a dazed tone as his eyes roamed over the American's figure.

It was lovely as usual, but there was something different about it now. The American seemed to glow, every part of him emanating an ethereal and hypnotizing light. It flowed from him like water from a faucet, bathing Arthur in the intensely pleasurable feeling of completely mindless devotion.

"What?" Alfred asked. "Arthur, are you okay?"

His voice flowed through Arthur's head, winding itself through every corner of Arthur's mind. It tugged at him and pulled each thought gently from him. It whispered to him the pleasure of empty-headed obedience, how lovely it was to offer complete submission to the owner of the voice.

"Yes, my love. Alfred..." Arthur murmured, green eyes glazed. He leaned forward, cupping the American's suntanned face within his pale hands. The Brit marveled at the contrast between them, how gorgeous Alfred's skin was, how sweet the freckles that dotted his face were, how soft he felt underneath Arthur's palms.

Alfred's bright eyes went wide in shock and he flushed red, the sight so endearing Arthur couldn't help the bleary smile that split across his pale face.

"God, you are so perfect. Every time I see you you're more beautiful than the last." Arthur sighed dreamily, scooting closer to his friend in order to hook his arms around the younger boy's neck.

"Dude, you're freaking me out." Alfred said, pushing Arthur's hands away with a furrowed brow.

Arthur shook his head. "It's alright. I thought I understood before but it's even clearer now. I can't believe how amazing you look..." Arthur murmured slowly, his words making no sense to his confused best friend.

Alfred continued to stare incredulously for a moment before realization suddenly washed over him and his enrapturing plush pink lips fell open in shock. He scrambled away from Arthur, flushed red to the tips of his ears. "Sh-Shit! I think I'm getting a burst!" He cried.

This seemed to snap Arthur back to reality for a moment, clarity overtaking him. Alfred was having a burst—a term used to describe the uncontrollable bursts of a monster's powers soon after their turning. Which, in the case of Alfred, a newly-turned incubus, meant that all of the seduction hypnotism associated with incubi was being unleashed, and he had no idea how to stop it.

"It's alright," Arthur said quickly, feeling the haze beginning to overtake him once more. "We knew it would happen now that you're eighteen. It's alright, my darling." He murmured, already half under the American's spell once more.

Alfred gulped. "B-But I—"

"Alfred, really. Just don't go outside—you'll only hypnotize more people." Arthur said, attempting to reassure his best friend. Then, his eyes fluttered and he sighed, unable to resist Alfred's overwhelming compulsion. His shoulders slumped and when he reopened his eyes, they were completely glazed over.

"Arthur...?" Alfred asked gently, eyeing the Brit warily.

Arthur's hooded eyes fixed upon Alfred's face and he smiled, bewitched. Alfred got to his feet and Arthur followed in suit, shuffling toward Alfred as he made his way to the door and locked it. Taking it as a sign that Alfred was willing to get more intimate, Arthur took Alfred by the hips and wrenched him forward, grinning.

Alfred's face turned a ruddy red. "Artie, I-I don't think we should—"

The Brit pouted. "Why?" He asked, reaching up with one hand. He tangled his fingers in Alfred's silky hair and looked up at Alfred through his thick lashes.

Alfred's arms stayed glued to his sides. "Because you don't know what you're doing right now. It's only 'cause I'm having a burst." The American mumbled sheepishly, making a point of not looking into Arthur's face.

Arthur hooked the thumb of the hand at Alfred's hips through the beltloop of the American's jeans and tugged insistently to make his eagerness known. With his other hand, he tugged teasingly at the golden hair twisted around his finger and watched with satisfaction as Alfred let out a small squeak of surprise.

"So? When I was having bursts, you were under the affects of my compulsion several times, and yet when you came out of it you were totally alright with having been brought under. Isn't it only fair that you control me like I once controlled you?"

"W-Well, when you were having bursts you used your compulsion to make me let you drink from me," Alfred began, referring to Arthur's transition from human to vampire two years prior. "It's different 'cause if I gave in, we'd have sex, and that's... I know you won't be okay with that when you wake up. I know you can't understand it right now, but you don't normally want to have sex with me and you're definitely not in love with me."

Arthur's frown grew and he shook his head. "No," he whispered, and there was something oddly sincere in his voice that startled Alfred.

"What?" Alfred asked.

"That's not true. I always love you, hypnotized or not. I get weak when you're around and I would do anything to be with you, to feel your eyes on me and only me, to have you kiss me everywhere, make me fall back and give in to you..." Arthur trailed off, looking into Alfred's eyes seriously.

Alfred paused, eyeing him carefully. His heartbeat had picked up, momentarily affected by the supposed sincerity in the Brit's words. Hope overtook him, wanting to believe that what his friend said was true more than anything. However, he shook these hops quickly from his head, knowing they could never be true. Instead, Alfred sighed in defeat.

"Arthur, you'll do whatever I say, right?" Alfred inquired, looking upset.

Arthur nodded eagerly, a sweet smile coming to his face. "Of course, my darling. Anything you want..." He purred.

"Alright, then sleep until my burst is over." Alfred commanded.

Arthur's eyes fluttered, his body instantly going limp in Alfred's arms as he fell asleep against the American. Alfred sighed, scooped Arthur up, and deposited the man in his bed to rest.

When Arthur woke, Alfred was playing video games.

The elder sat up slowly, blinking. "Alfred?" He asked, confused.

The American turned around and smiled softly at his friend. "Hey, Artie. How do you feel?"

Arthur's thick brows furrowed as he thought back upon the events of earlier in the day. "Fine... Did you put me to sleep?"

Alfred's smile turned apologetic. "Yeah, sorry. I just, um... Well, if you remember that I'm sure you remember everything else, so..."

Arthur stared at Alfred incredulously for a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed and he flopped down against Alfred's bed, annoyed. "God, you really are an imbecile, aren't you?"

"What?" Alfred asked, and Arthur didn't have to look at him to see the look of confusion on his face.

Arthur laughed humorlessly. He was sick of hiding his feelings—it was past time that he made his affection for Alfred known, and so he spoke. "It's just that I've waited months for you to have a burst so that you'd have an excuse to take complete advantage of me, and then you end up being your excessively righteous self and put me to sleep because you're worried I don't love you! It's—well, it's just my luck, of course, but I confess I'd rather been looking forward to having you ravish me to the point of complete incoherency."

Silence descended upon the room.

"...Wait, what?" Alfred asked at last, his jaw practically on the floor and his bright blue eyes burning a hole through Arthur's face.

The Brit sat up, sighing exasperatedly. "Are you truly that thick, Alfred?! I'm telling you that you shouldn't have put me to sleep, nor should you have assumed that I don't love you! I've been your fool for years now! And yet you and your goddamned oblivious self has always assumed that I don't feel anything for you, for whatever inane reason!"

Feeling the need to defend himself, Alfred raised his voice. "Because you loving me doesn't make any sense when you have so many other options!" He cried.

"It doesn't matter how many options I have! Hell, every last goddamned person on Earth could express desire for me except for you and I'd still spend my time pining after you rather than take any other willing partner! But you are so ridiculously daft that you couldn't manage to see that!" Arthur hollered in return.

"Well then why the hell didn't you ever say anything?!" Alfred huffed.

"Because you never gave me any sort of sign that you were attracted to me!"

"Well, I am! I'm really fucking attracted to you! And more than that, I'm fucking in love with you!" Alfred huffed before standing up and storming forward.

Arthur watched him approach, wide-eyed. Alfred grabbed his face in both of his hands and crushed their lips together. Arthur's eyes widened and he froze for a moment, only to fling his arms around Alfred's neck and begin to kiss him passionately. Alfred pulled Arthur up, wrapping his arms around the Brit's waist and pressing their chests together. Arthur melted into him, the heat between them only fueling his desire for the American.

When they both needed air, Alfred pulled away and grinned cheekily at Arthur. "You want me to ravish you into incoherency, huh?" He asked.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, you dolt. I want you to turn my mind to mush." He said, panting.

"Hmmmm, well, that doesn't sound so bad," Alfred said in a teasingly nonchalant tone.

Arthur elbowed him playfully. "Oi, get on with it."

Alfred laughed. "Alright, alright." He said before leaning in to press their lips together once more.

Arthur paused, stopping Alfred. "And next time you have a burst, don't you dare put me to sleep, you idiot."

The American's ear-splitting grin was all the affirmation Arthur needed that he certainly wouldn't be asleep the next time.

[sopherfly]

Made for the Drift (Chapter 2)

((Winteriron Pacific Rim AU))

Summary: It doesn't take our boys long to realize that keeping things professional isn't going to work. Bucky and Tony get called into combat, and then they finally get some alone time.

A/N: This chapter contains smut. If that’s not your thing, skip past the scene immediately after Bucky says ‘yes.’ Many thanks to @folklejend for beta reading this chapter. 

Bucky can’t sleep.

It’s a problem he’s never had before. The Asset knows how to shut everything down, and while Bucky's a light sleeper - the smallest noise and he's immediately alert - he’s always been able to sleep. At least, until now.

It's almost midnight. Bucky's room isn’t big enough to pace, not really, but he does it anyway, back and forth and back and forth until he’s worried he’ll wear a hole in the floor.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. Just a drift hangover. It'll be gone soon. Drift hangovers always go away; they just take time. The thought isn't comforting at all. Knowing the empty feeling will end doesn't make it ache any less. It feels like knowing you’ve forgotten something important but not being able to remember what. It's like a lost limb that still hurts even though it’s gone.

“Fuck.”

Bucky rubs his face with his hands. He can do this. He can. He can force himself to sleep, and when he wakes up, he’ll feel normal again. The buzzing in his head will disappear. All he needs is a reset.

Of course, he’ll never get to sleep if he can’t stop pacing. Bucky huffs in frustration. The pacing isn't really optional. He has to keep moving, or the terrifying emptiness might consume him. He's going to be up all night, walking the length of the room over and over. Back and forth. Back and forth. He has no idea how long it's been when a knock on his door shocks him out of the trance.

Well. Whoever it is, they'd better not expect much. Bucky's not quite up for company. At least, no company but Tony's, and Tony has already gone to sleep. Finally breaking his back and forth pattern, Bucky heads to the door.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

Bucky’s heart jumps against his ribcage at the sound of Tony’s voice. Not asleep, then. Very much awake, standing in his doorway.

“I, uh - I couldn’t sleep. And I was wondering if maybe you couldn't either.”

Damned if you do, damned if you don't, Bucky thinks. He can send Tony away and leave them both to handle their restlessness alone, or he can invite Tony inside and risk ruining everything if he can't keep himself in line. This from the man who prides himself on discipline. Something about Tony makes everything Bucky knows about himself unravel.

“Haven’t even sat down,” Bucky says finally. He can't help but drink Tony in, his eyes catching on that little wrinkle between Tony’s brows. Still there. Bucky wants so badly to reach out and make it vanish. “D’you wanna come in?”

There it is. Too late to take it back.

“Sure.” Tony smiles a little lop-sidedly before stepping inside.

(Read the rest of the chapter below, or check it out on ao3.)

~

“Your room is smaller than mine.” Tony offers Bucky a look of apology. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t have a filter.”

“S’okay,” Bucky says, closing the door behind them. “You’re a genius inventor. Figures your room would be bigger.”

“Don’t forget ‘irresponsible playboy.’ And Jaeger pilot, thanks to you.”

There isn't much to look at, but Tony seems intrigued anyway, glancing around the room with curious eyes. Tony crosses to Bucky's desk and picks up the first book on the pile, flipping it open. “An Illustrated History of Jaegers. This a first edition?”

“Yeah. Steve got it for me.”

“Nice of him. First editions take ages to find.” Tony flips another few pages, humming to himself, and Bucky doesn’t miss the way those lips purse in fascination. “These are really beautiful.”

Bucky nods in agreement. The book is full of tech specs, but it's the art that Bucky loves. Sketches, paintings, beautiful photos, all of Jaegers. It seems like it captivates Tony just as much. Bucky sits down on the side of his bed, watching, his eyes trained on Tony’s hands as he flips the pages one by one.

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for an hour trying to find a way to describe what this feels like,” Tony starts, not looking away from the page. “This thing. My reaction to the drift, I guess. It’s - I don’t know - it’s like I could keep reaching and reaching and never find what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I need it. Does that make any sense?”

It makes all the sense in the world. Bucky nods. “That’s how I feel, too.”

Tony sets the book down slowly, then turns to meet Bucky's eyes. “Is there a way to make it better?”

“Only one thing that's ever worked for me.”

“And what is that?”

“Contact.”

Tony breathes out, and that line between his brows grows more pronounced. “Is that… Would you want to - ha. Why is this so hard to say?”

“Isn’t exactly a normal thing to ask.” Bucky pats the edge of the bed. “C’mere.”

Bucky scoots up onto the mattress, leaving room for Tony to sit back against him. Tony searches his eyes, unsure, then follows Bucky onto the bed, sitting just far enough away that they aren’t actually touching. Bucky shifts forward, and finally their bodies connect. Tony’s back presses into Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s legs are on either side of Tony’s. Bucky’s arms slide around to Tony’s waist, one hand resting on Tony’s abdomen, the other on his chest.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, his voice soft. “Yeah, that - that helps a lot.”

“Good.” Bucky lets his chin rest on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony sighs, his body relaxing.

Hell. Tony is so warm and pliant. He fits perfectly in Bucky's arms, snug and safe, like he's always belonged there. This is the only way they work. Together. Bucky can't help it; with Tony up against him, it's so easy to imagine a world where they're never apart. Of course, that's ridiculous. Unrealistic. But the more hours that pass, the more their connection solidifies in Bucky's mind. Two halves of a whole. For the first time since the simulation, Bucky doesn't feel empty at all.

“Why is it like this?” Tony shifts closer, and Bucky swallows down the satisfied noise that tries to rise in his throat. “I know the drift is powerful, but I’ve never heard of anyone having this kind of reaction before.”

“Dunno.” Bucky closes his eyes, the smell of Tony’s shampoo licking his nostrils. That might actually kill him, but there's no way he's letting go, not when he's finally found his balance. “Strong connection, I guess. Does different things to different people.”

Silence engulfs them, and then he feels Tony's weight sag against him. Bucky smiles. Tony is asleep on him, and damn if that doesn't make him like Tony more. Must've been tired. Come to think of it, Bucky's tired, too.

Bucky doesn't remember falling asleep; but when he wakes, he's lying in his bed, and Tony is wrapped up in his arms.

Shit.

They’re still dressed, Bucky in his pajamas and Tony in his sweats, and as much of a relief as that is, Bucky still wishes for several more layers of fabric between them. He can feel the heat of Tony’s body under his palms. His nose is buried in Tony’s hair, and Tony smells so good, that scent tugging at something primal in Bucky’s back-brain. There’s an uncontrollable part of him that wants fewer layers instead of more, because wouldn’t it be incredible just to feel skin on skin, to touch and kiss and-

Stop it.

Tony shifts just slightly in his sleep, and Bucky suppresses a groan. Having Tony this close is intoxicating. Overwhelming. More than a little arousing. Bucky tries to pull his arms away, but Tony doesn't budge.

“Tony,” Bucky says in Tony's ear. Tony moves, and Bucky manages to slide his arms out from around Tony, sitting up. “Tony,” Bucky says again, louder this time.

Tony stirs, rolling onto his back and blinking slowly awake. “Hey, Buckaroo.” That rough voice sends a shiver up Bucky’s spine.

“Hey.” It’s all Bucky can get out at first. His body is practically screaming at him, the compulsion to keep touching almost too powerful to tolerate. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “We fell asleep.”

Tony looks around and sits up. “Oh. Shit.” He drags a hand through his hair, and Bucky loves that, loves the way it makes a few strands stand on end. “I - were we sleeping together? I mean, not sleeping together, but - you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Tony frowns, covering his mouth briefly with his hand. “I think I liked it.”

“Tony.” He can’t say things like that, not when Bucky’s working so hard to pretend that he didn’t like it and doesn’t want to do it again.

“I’m serious. I haven’t slept that well in - I don’t know if I’ve ever slept that well.” Tony stretches his arms above his head, then ruffles his hair a second time. That's just too much, too adorable and sexy. Bucky forces himself to look away.

“Hey. What’s the matter?”

Tony asks it like it’s not a big deal, like they haven’t just woken up accidentally tangled up in each other.

“Nothin’,” Bucky says, hating how unconvincing it sounds. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Tony scoots closer, and for some incomprehensible reason, he rests a hand on Bucky’s cheek. Bucky reaches up a second too late to stop him, grabbing Tony’s wrist only after Tony’s hand touches his skin.

“Tony.” Bucky holds Tony’s gaze for a tense moment, but Tony doesn’t let go. He strokes Bucky’s cheekbone with his thumb, and Bucky clenches his jaw. Slowly, Tony’s other hand comes up and tucks a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. That whisper of sensation undoes all of Bucky’s tension like a quick-release knot, the whole structure of the thing collapsing with a single pull. His shoulders go slack; his jaw relaxes, lips parting softly.

“Serious question,” Tony murmurs, searching Bucky’s face. “Does being drift partners mean we can’t be anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

Tony’s expression changes, and Bucky can tell he’s about to argue with him. Bucky heads him off.

“Tony, we ain’t known each other more than a couple days.”

“So what? There are people I’ve known for years that I still can’t stand.” Tony runs his thumb along Bucky’s cheek again, and Bucky sighs, leaning ever so slightly into the touch. “That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to me.”

That’s because it isn’t. Bucky has seen inside Tony’s head. He knows Tony’s mind, knows what he hates, what he loves, what he wants more than anything else in the world. Bucky and Tony aren’t strangers, not really. Argument invalid.

“You sure it’s not just the drift? You sure I’m what you want?” It sounds so stupid to Bucky’s ears, so vulnerable, but he has to ask it, has to know that it’s a choice and not just something Tony has fallen into.

Tony shakes his head. “I’ve been interested in you since the first time we met. And we’re so compatible. It can’t just be a coincidence. It has to mean something.”

Bucky doesn’t disagree. But there’s still a part of him - maybe a part that HYDRA put there - that questions whether or not something like this can be anything but bad. “This doesn’t scare you?”

“Honestly? It’s terrifying. But so was the first time I stepped into a Jaeger, and that turned out to be pretty incredible, right?”

“Right.” Bucky stares, heart pounding, skin on fire where Tony is still touching him. He breathes in as if to speak, then stops himself, because suddenly he can’t remember the words. All he knows is what he feels. He wants, and he hopes, and he yearns, his whole body charged with it.

Brown eyes flash with impatience. Tony’s fingers slide to the back of Bucky’s neck, thumbs tight against Bucky’s jaw, and then Tony pulls him down, sealing their mouths together in a kiss.

Fucking hell.

That’s what a kiss is supposed to feel like; not perfunctory or forced, but necessary, like the world will stop if Bucky pulls away. Tony’s lips are soft and insistent, that edge of impatience just barely there. Tony’s tongue traces the seam of Bucky's mouth, and Bucky opens to him, groaning at that hot, slick slide. Damn, but Tony tastes good.

Tony crawls up onto Bucky’s lap and straddles his hips, tangling his hands in Bucky’s hair. Shit. Tony’s body plastered to Bucky’s makes it difficult to breathe, and damn near impossible to think. All Bucky can do is press tighter and kiss harder. His hands slide up under Tony’s shirt, finally touching skin, the heat impossible, the contact sending sparks through his fingers. Tony’s hips arch forward, and Bucky moans into Tony’s mouth, his hands suddenly grasping and needy-

From the corner of the room, the alarm bell shrieks, shocking them apart.

Tony pulls away first, breathing hard, his hands not moving from where they've landed on Bucky’s shoulders. Even with the bright blue strobe light flashing, it takes Bucky several seconds to process what that alarm actually means, because his lap is still full of Tony, and if only they could just keep kissing.

“Shit,” Bucky huffs, moving his hands slowly down Tony’s back, lingering on Tony’s skin before drawing away. “That alarm for us?”

Tony looks like he really doesn't want to answer. He bites his lip, letting out a frustrated breath. “Yep. That's for us.”

~

It takes another minute for Tony to move from Bucky’s lap. Bucky mourns the loss of contact, but somehow resists the urge to pull Tony back onto the bed.

“I should go grab my tech gear,” Tony says, hovering near the door. “I’ll, uh. I’ll meet you there?”

“Alright.”

Tony hesitates, then turns and leaves. Bucky drops his head into his hands.

Called into combat. Of course.

Bucky trundles into the bathroom and turns on the sink, splashing cold water onto his face. Get a grip, Barnes. Focus. He rifles through his dresser until he finds his clean tech gear. He doesn’t need more than thirty seconds to change - twenty of those are spent adjusting the fabric, making sure it’s seated right on his arms and legs - and then he slips on his socks and his boots, marching quickly out the door.

He beats Tony to the control room, the lights already on as he steps inside. A tired-looking Bruce Banner sits at the control booth, and an agitated Nick Fury drums his fingers on the table near the windows. Natasha stands off to the side. Footsteps behind him - Steve files in along with his new partner, Sam Wilson. Clint Barton trails behind.

Bucky knows Barton, even though they've never officially met. He’s had his picture in the papers, always alongside Natasha’s. Best sharpshooter in the Jaeger program. Originally based in South America. Partnered off early. Five kills, with limited Jaeger damage. Bucky assumes that sling he's wearing is a leftover from his last fight.

Wilson is still mostly a mystery. His previous experience comes from the Military, that much is easy enough to guess just by the way he walks. Bucky can't help but make snap judgments; it's just part of his programming. And his snap judgment on Wilson is that he's under-qualified.

Still. If Steve has agreed to be his partner, maybe there's more to him. Maybe there's something else that makes him an asset to the team. Fury always has his reasons for choosing people. Bucky just hopes they're good ones.

Tony finally walks through the door, bright-eyed and sharp. His beard is perfectly trimmed, his hair freshly-washed - how had he had time to shower? - and styled. There’s no evidence at all that fifteen minutes before, he’d had Bucky’s tongue down his throat. Bucky wonders if he looks as composed by comparison.

Tony crosses the room to stand next to Bucky, and Bucky tries hard not to let the smell of that shampoo distract him.

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Fury starts, his voice reverberating off of the tile floor. “We have a situation that needs your immediate attention.” He inclines his head toward Bruce, who pulls up the holo-screen.

“Half an hour ago, we got a signature in the breach. Seemed normal. The Maximoff twins were next in rotation, so we deployed Igor.”

“But it's a category four.” All eyes land on Tony. “What? Don't look at me like that, of course I checked before I came up here. Not like I didn’t predict it anyway, if you all would listen to me for once.”

“Stark, now is not the time-”

“He's right,” Bruce interrupts. “It's our first category four. This thing is - well. It’s a monster.”

Bruce pulls up the Kaiju’s specs. Head and shoulders taller than the last Kaiju. Heavier, too, with a skull shaped like a hammerhead shark. It looks mean. Mean and enormous.

“Igor isn't big enough to take that on alone,” Natasha says.

"I agree." Fury stops, clasping his hands together behind his back. “I’m low on personnel, and Barton is still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” Clint growls.

“You’re injured. And Rogers and Wilson are untested. I won’t put you in a machine when I don’t even know it’s going to stick.” Fury’s single eye swivels to stare them down. “That leaves us with Stark and Barnes.”

Bucky’s muscles tense, adrenaline filtering quickly into his veins. That’s the Asset, or as much of him as still exists. Always ready for a fight. Bucky glances over at Tony.

“What do you think?”

There's hardly any point in asking. They both want this. They're both ready.

Tony grins. “I think we should go kick some Kaiju ass.”

~

Fury sends them straight to the changing room to get suited up. Everything is automated now; Bucky steps in front of the mirror and mechanical arms appear out of nowhere, putting the armor together around him in less than a minute. It’s brand new, similar to the old design, but never been worn. Most people say that's better. No use in carrying the bad luck of old armor with you.

Bucky stares at his reflection, moving his arms, then his legs, testing the range of motion. It's perfect. Protective and sturdy, but still flexible. It doesn't look half bad, either, almost sparkling as it catches the light. Nothing like the plastic shit from the simulator.

“Wow.” Tony appears behind him, dressed in the same chrome-colored armor. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen the pictures, I knew it was going to look good on you, but… Wow.”

Bucky meets Tony’s eyes in the mirror. He's not sure he deserves that kind of praise. He doesn't look good so much as lethal. Armor always reminds him of the Asset. And even though he's killing for the right reasons, underneath it all, Bucky's still a killing machine.

Tony, though - Tony looks like a knight ready to slay a dragon. He ought to be on a poster the way he wears that armor, his jawline and cheekbones even more pronounced, his dark eyes alive and dangerous.

“Do you not like it?” Tony asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “It's better on you.”

Tony steps forward, circling around Bucky, scrutinizing him from every angle. “Huh. You really think so? Because this is the most badass thing I've ever seen.”

“It ain't all that.”

Tony's face grows serious. “I respectfully disagree.” He moves directly in front of Bucky, and something stirs in Bucky's veins at the stubborn set of Tony's jaw. “It suits you.”

Bucky wants to argue, but he's distracted by the unexpected press of Tony's lips on his. It doesn't last longer than a few seconds, but it's enough to make him forget all of his protests. “What was that for?”

“Luck,” Tony says easily. “That's what they do in the movies, right?”

“Right.”

Bucky's lips are still tingling as he follows Tony up the spiral staircase, helmet clutched in one hand as they make their way to the Jaeger’s head.

~

It’s been over a year since Bucky has actually set foot inside a Jaeger.

It's bigger than he remembers. Cavernous. He cranes his neck, looking up with what he's sure are admiring eyes. Heartbreaker isn't Howler; but damn if she isn't beautiful. She has her own aura. She has a presence, one that hangs from the walls and the ceiling. She's powerful and agile. She wants so badly to succeed.

Perfect. She's perfect.

Planting his feet in the boot clips, Bucky can't help but feel nervous. Technically, he and Tony are compatible. They've drifted. But there are still so many unknowns. Things change when you’re inside a real Jaeger. The connection is stronger. The feedback is louder. The drift is deep and fathomless, darker than the ocean, the current fast and dangerous. When it works - when two pilots connect, perfectly in sync - it’s the most incredible feeling in the world. He shouldn't worry. With their connection, the chances of it not working are slim to none.

The way this dome is built, Jaegers have to be transported in pieces. The head drops from far above and connects with the body, and part of a pilot’s job is riding all the way down. Bucky and Tony are just waiting, and once they're set, it's a free fall.

Natasha checks the cords behind them, making sure the armor and the Jaeger are fully joined before tapping their helmets in turn. The mechanical door groans shut behind her as she leaves.

“You ready?” Tony asks.

“Yeah.” Bucky's more than ready. He needs this. His body aches for it. Finally back inside a Jaeger… It’s all he's ever wanted. “You?”

“Born ready.”

They're silent through the initiation sequence, and Bucky watches the panels light up one by one. His legs tremble in anticipation when he hears the hatch open, giant metal pieces creaking aside to give them a clear path straight down.

It's a long way. There are over a thousand feet between the hatch and the body of the Jaeger. Bucky braces himself as the bottom drops out from underneath them. Five seconds of weightlessness. Seven. Ten. Gravity kicks in, and there’s a jolt when they land, the head rotating around just once before Bucky hears the thunk of the locking mechanism securing them in place.

“Pilot-to-pilot protocol engaged. Initiating neural handshake.”

Bucky only gets a split second to think before the switch flips. Memories flash in front of him like slides on a stereoscope, moving faster and faster until everything’s a blur of color and noise. The entire world rushes past in the blink of an eye - and then, suddenly, Tony’s mind is anchored to his, and the drift opens up and swallows them whole.

“Neural link established. Connection successful.”

Bucky hears the words thunder in his ears, the echo strange and far away. The machine whispers inside his body. The arc-reactor thrums, energy warming him from his core all the way out to his heels and his fingertips. The simulator can't compare. There's heft and power underneath him, underneath them. There’s nothing else like it, nothing in the world.

Bucky looks over at Tony, and Tony blinds him with a dazzling, cheeky smile. God. Tony was made for this. Even inside that suit, he looks like this is exactly where he's meant to be. He fits.

“You look good,” Bucky finds himself saying.

“So do you.”

Threads of attraction and desire tug at him from inside the drift. He meets Tony's eyes, and Tony doesn't back down.

You look really good.

“Doors opening,” Bruce says over the comms. The massive doors in front of them start to part, water rushing in around the Jaeger’s feet as Bucky and Tony run through the calibration. Left hemisphere. Right hemisphere. “Okay, Heartbreaker. That ocean is all yours.”

~

Being inside a Jaeger is incredible. Bucky’s suddenly tall enough to walk across the ocean, powerful enough to fight the biggest threat to humanity. That invincible feeling can be dangerous, especially for new pilots; they get too wrapped up in the strength of the machine, forgetting that Kaijus are just as big and just as dangerous. But Bucky and Tony have fought Kaijus before. They know the risks. They don’t have any illusions about how badly this kind of fight can end. And somehow they still want it more than anything.

“Igor,” Bruce says over the comms, “you have Heartbreaker inbound.”

Bucky and Tony spot the arc-reactor at the same time, glowing blue against the dark ocean and the sky. The Kaiju is still invisible from this distance, but with the enormous stride of a Jaeger, it won’t take them long to reach Igor’s position.

“Good of you to join us,” Pietro says, his voice sounding taxed.

“Sorry,” Tony replies, and Bucky sees him calculating the distance to the Kaiju as he speaks. “Took us a while to get dressed.”

“He’s dodging all our punches,” Wanda growls. “We’re holding our own, but we can’t bring him down ourselves.”

Good thing Fury sent us out, Tony thinks. They’re closing in, just fifteen paces from the fight. The Kaiju spots them ten steps out.

Shit.

The Kaiju isn’t just big. It’s fast. It comes barreling at them full speed, and Heartbreaker just barely blocks the hit.

“Repulsors,” Tony says, and Heartbreaker’s left hand comes up, blasting the Kaiju back. It squeals, a terrible, high-pitched sound, then rounds on them again. This time they’re more prepared. Heartbreaker’s fist lands squarely on the Kaiju’s jaw, the impact rattling through its body. It makes that horrible sound again, then ducks down, plowing its head into Heartbreaker’s stomach. The Kaiju knocks the wind out of them, pushing Heartbreaker backward along the ocean floor. Shit. They can’t win with this thing using its size against them. Bucky brings Heartbreaker's right arm down, elbow slamming into the Kaiju’s head, and that forces the Kaiju back long enough for them to break free.

Suddenly Igor is in range, grabbing onto the Kaiju’s tail. The Kaiju turns on them, gigantic claws swiping at Igor’s chest. Bucky knows how much that hurts. A pilot feels any damage done to a Jaeger; it’s unlike any other pain, made worse for the fact that you’re connected to the Jaeger through the drift. The Kaiju’s claws rend the metal, but thankfully the arc-reactor stays intact. Igor fires repulsor blasts in quick succession, like a machine gun, hammering the Kaiju hard. Bucky watches, waiting for the smoke to clear.

The Kaiju’s scaly skin is barely burned.

Repulsors aren’t going to work, Bucky thinks, concerned for the first time that they might not win this fight. They’re not doin’ any damage.

You’re right. They’ll overheat before they even come close. Tony growls in frustration. This thing’s too big. We can’t just beat it dead, not even with two Jaegers.

Bucky closes his eyes for an instant, trying to think. He’s supposed to be the expert on Jaegers. Maybe not as much of an expert as Tony, but he knows enough, and in the fight, Bucky’s the more clear-headed of the two of them. Does he know anything that can help them? Igor is older, third generation; but that still means she’s equipped with modern weapons systems. Repulsors, rockets, cannons. Nothing so medieval as a spear or a sword. But Heartbreaker is old. First generation, rebuilt but fairly well preserved. Old enough to have her original set of weapons.

“Does Heartbreaker still have a sword?” Bucky asks aloud.

Tony perks up, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. She does.”

“Let's use it.”

Tony grins. I love the way you think.

The sword emerges from the left arm, metal pieces slotting into place. It’s not quite as long as Heartbreaker’s arm, probably to make it easier to wield, but it’ll definitely do the job.

“Hey, Igor,” Tony barks into the comms. “Can you give us an opening, here?”

“With pleasure,” Wanda says.

The Kaiju is still circling, looking at Heartbreaker like she’s something to eat. It’s almost as if the monster has forgotten all about Igor. Good. That gives them the advantage. Igor swings up from behind, metal arms sliding underneath the Kaiju’s arms and gripping hard, hauling it upward. The Kaiju twists its neck back. It struggles, but Igor holds fast, and that’s exactly the opening they need.

Bucky and Tony draw the sword back and strike.

The blade cuts into the Kaiju’s neck, brutal and precise. The metal goes straight through. It cleaves scale and flesh and bone, opening the Kaiju’s enormous neck, driving through its skull and splitting it down the middle.

The Kaiju drops, and the ocean drags it down.

Holy shit. Tony’s eyes are wide, and Bucky watches those lips curve into a smile. That was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s not quite sure what happens next. The drift explodes, and Bucky can’t make sense of it all, but there’s satisfaction and adrenaline and pride and so much more that it carries Bucky away.

“Confirmed kill. Heartbreaker, Igor, come back to the dome.”

Bruce’s voice is a faraway echo in Bucky’s ears, nothing compared to the roar of sound and color coming from the drift. It overwhelms him, and Bucky tries and fails to focus, his mind pulled in too many directions. Somehow, Tony’s still sharp, and he responds for them, his voice resonating through the drift, setting Bucky on fire.

“Copy that.”

~

The debrief takes no time at all. Bucky can't quite pay attention, still too high on the drift and the fight to comprehend much of anything. He can't track the conversation, except that he hears Tony say something about Kaijus learning Jaeger fight patterns, and then he gets distracted by the flush on Tony’s cheeks and the deep red of his lips.

When they're finished, Bucky follows Tony to the changing room, thankful that he doesn't have to remove this armor himself. Even so, it somehow takes Bucky longer to change; he struggles with his civilian clothes, the fatigue pants refusing to fit over his feet, the sweater catching on his hair before he can tug it over his head. Finally, he's presentable, and he opens the curtain, finding Tony waiting for him.

Tony is dressed in worn jeans and a hoodie that's a little too big. Bucky's first impulse is to use those oversized pockets to drag Tony closer, and damn if the drift doesn't shoot his impulse control straight to hell. He slips his hands into the pockets and tugs, pulling Tony toward him.

Tony rests his hands on Bucky's forearms, looking up at him with dark eyes. “That was one hell of a fight, gorgeous. We make a good team.”

“Yeah. We do.”

Tony tilts his chin up, and Bucky can’t force himself not to see it as an invitation. He leans down before he can stop himself, bringing their lips together, and Tony lets out a small noise. Damn. Bucky’s never felt anything like this. Tony’s lips fit against his like they’re made for it, silky and soft, the connection electric. It’s perfect, and Tony is so good at it; his tongue steals inside Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky starts to lose coherent thought, his blood racing south.

“Hmm.” Tony bites down on Bucky’s lower lip, making Bucky groan. “You taste really good.”

“So do you.” Bucky moves his hands to Tony's waist and kisses him again, gradually walking them backward until Tony is up against the wall. Bucky braces his weight on either side of Tony, palms against the concrete, then leans forward to let their hips slot together.

“Oh.” Tony arches up into the contact and tries to pull Bucky closer, hand on the back of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky gives in, letting their lips meet, rocking his hips gently into Tony’s. Even with all that fabric between them, Bucky can still feel Tony’s hard length against him, and that small amount of friction is incredible.

Too soon Tony pulls away. “Come back to my room with me.”

There’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind exactly what that invitation means. He drops a soft kiss at the corner of Tony’s mouth.

“Okay.”

~

Tony's right. His room is bigger than Bucky's. He has space enough for a queen bed, and there are shelves upon shelves lining the walls, showing off little robots and pieces of tech. It looks like an in-between place, like Tony probably doesn't spend much time here.

“Do you want some coffee or anything?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Too much adrenaline today. Don’t think my heart could take it.”

Tony smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m way too wired for coffee. I just wanted to offer because - well, honestly, because I’m nervous as hell and I didn’t know what else to say.” Tony bites his lip, looking suddenly more serious. “I don’t want to jump into this too fast… Except that I really, really do. It’s-”

“Conflicting?”

“Yeah.” Tony takes a tentative step closer. “Is this how it’s gonna be? Are we already an old married couple finishing each other’s sentences?”

“That’s sort of how the drift works.”

There it is again, that frown line between Tony’s brows. Bucky reaches out, tracing it with his thumb, finally erasing the tension with a gentle touch. Tony’s eyes flutter closed.

“Been wantin’ to do that for ages.” Bucky lets his fingers trail down the side of Tony’s face, then slides them into the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck, drawing him forward. This kiss is soft, gentle, sweet enough that Tony sighs against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky could do this for hours. Every time he kisses Tony, it’s something different, a new exploration of the same territory. It makes his nerves sing, his toes and his fingertips lighting up with sensation, his cock growing hard with the barest hint of Tony’s tongue in his mouth. Tony is intoxicating, overwhelming. Bucky’s been high on him since that first kiss.

There’s such a fine line between sweet and hot, and they cross it without meaning to, Tony’s hands tangling in Bucky’s hair, Bucky reaching around to palm Tony’s ass. That brings their hips flush together, and Bucky’s sure Tony can feel how much Bucky wants him, how ready Bucky is. Tony pulls away, hands sliding down to Bucky’s shoulders, fingers gripping gently at Bucky’s sweater.

“Come to bed with me?” Tony asks, less sure than he’d been when he’d invited Bucky to his room.

The breath leaves Bucky’s body, and he nods. “Yes.”

~

It's not hard for Bucky to track what Tony's thinking as he steps back, unlacing his boots. Clothes are a hindrance. Better to start without any.

That doesn't make Bucky any less nervous as he works on his own boots, leaving them in a pile with his socks next to the door. He blinks when Tony dims the lights, and then Bucky stops, mesmerized, as Tony peels off his shirt and drops it to the floor.

Damn, but Tony is beautiful.

Bucky's gaze wanders over the planes of Tony's chest. That scar is striking, captivating Bucky's attention. The center looks like a brand that hasn't quite kept its shape. Thin white lines extend out in every direction, crisscrossing each other until they fade and disappear.

Bucky looks up, meeting Tony's eyes. “Can I touch it?”

Tony’s voice is barely a whisper. “Yeah.”

Bucky steps up close, metal palm coming up to rest on the white knot of skin, and Tony’s eyes flutter closed. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Before he knows quite what he’s doing, Bucky leans down and replaces his hand with his mouth, dropping slow, soft kisses on Tony's chest. He grazes the damaged skin with his teeth, then soothes it with his tongue, feeling Tony’s body shudder.

“Ah. Okay, I really need us both to be wearing a lot less.”

Bucky can’t help but imagine what that looks like. He wants to see more, wants his hands on as much of Tony as Tony will let him have.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Tony says, eager hands finding the waistband of Bucky’s fatigue pants, making quick work of the fastenings and sliding them to the floor. That’s enough to make Bucky move again, and he reaches back, grabbing at the collar of his sweater and pulling it over his head. This time, when Bucky looks up, Tony is naked, and the sweater slips from Bucky’s fingers, because damn if that isn’t an incredible sight.

“Off,” Tony insists. Bucky smiles at Tony’s impatience, his lips parting when Tony relieves him of his boxers in a single fluid motion.

“Oh.”

Tony steps even closer, their cocks bumping together, and that’s a sensation Bucky hasn’t felt in a long time. Bucky moans, almost entirely soundless, but Tony doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes darting over Bucky’s metal shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” Tony asks, looking up into Bucky’s face.

“No.”

Tony’s hand moves tentatively, his thumb touching one of the many scars on Bucky’s side. The angry marks sweep toward Bucky’s shoulder, and Tony follows this scar all the way to the place where flesh and metal meet. “Wow.”

Bucky breathes in, then sighs, shaky on the exhale.

Tony pauses. “That okay?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallows, turning his head to watch Tony’s hand. “Feels good.”

“I’m gonna need another name for you. Gorgeous doesn’t do you justice.”

“You’re sorta biased.” Bucky manages to say it without his voice breaking. “Tech turns you on.”

“I promise, it’s not just the tech.” Tony tilts his chin up and seeks out Bucky’s lips, leading him into a languid kiss that starts out too soft and ends with Tony hooking one leg around Bucky's waist. Bucky's hands slide down to Tony's ass, and it's almost too easy for him to lift Tony up, letting Tony wrap both legs around him as he leads them back toward the bed.

Bucky draws the moment out forever. He lays Tony out on the mattress, Tony’s head the last thing to drop back onto the sheets, metal hand still cradling Tony’s neck. Bucky pulls back, letting Tony shift further up toward the pillows, and then Bucky’s eyes take him in, admiring the way that lithe body looks spread out underneath him.

Damn. Everything about Tony is beautiful. His legs. His hips. His cock. Feeling a sudden need to touch and taste, Bucky leans down, nuzzling at Tony's navel. He travels lower, lips finding Tony's hip, then his inner thigh. Tony shifts, whimpering, and Bucky gives in, leaving long, soft kisses along Tony's cock, then licking a stripe from base to tip.

“Oh shit. You're gonna make me come like a teenager if you do that,” Tony gasps.

Bucky lifts his head, moving further up Tony's body to kiss along his jaw. “Lube?” he asks softly.

“Bedside table drawer.”

Bucky grabs the lube, then shifts his attention to Tony’s neck, nibbling at his pulse-point, sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Do you - um. God damn it, that's distracting.” Tony laughs nervously. “Sorry. I'm sorry, I don't-”

“D’you want this the other way around?” Bucky asks, suddenly worried he's made the wrong assumption.

“No,” Tony says, emphatic enough that Bucky pulls back to look at him. “No, it's not that. I really want you to top. It's just… It's been a long time.”

“Been a long time for me too.”

Tony surprises him, tucking a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, the gesture almost tender. Bucky holds Tony’s gaze, and something passes between them, but Bucky isn’t sure what. He only knows that the look in Tony’s eyes makes it hard to breathe.

Bucky drops the bottle beside them on the bed, and then his hand is between Tony's legs, one finger circling Tony's hole, gently breaching his entrance.

Tony arches, eyes closed, mouth open. “Mmh,” Tony groans, looking goddamn near perfect with his hair falling into his face.

Bucky gives him a minute to adjust, then eases a second finger past that tight ring of muscle. He waits for Tony to relax, the tension slowly leaving Tony's face, then moves both fingers in tandem, gently scissoring him open. Tony’s breath catches, and then brown eyes open, heavy-lidded.

“Okay?” Bucky asks.

“God, yes.”

Bucky slips a third finger inside, feeling Tony tighten around him, watching the rapid rise and fall of Tony’s chest.

There's a needy edge to Tony's voice when he speaks again. “Ahh. Gorgeous, that's so good.”

Bucky moves his fingers in and out, spreading and stretching, watching Tony’s expressions shift. Hell. That’s enough to make him come right there. He's not sure how much longer he can-

“Okay, okay, that's good. I'm good.”

Bucky draws his fingers out of Tony slowly, groaning, clinging to the remains of his shredded self-control. Fuck, he's so hard, he's worried he’ll go off like a shot after two seconds inside that tight heat. What comes after this? Arousal clouds his mind, but his body remembers, reaching back into that drawer. Condom. Right. And more lube. He just barely manages both, his fingers fumbling and unsteady.

“Bucky. You okay?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up, and he nods, not sure how to explain that he’s rapidly losing his capacity to think. He sets the lube aside, metal hand steady even when his flesh hand trembles, then lines himself up, swallowing hard when his cock presses up against Tony’s entrance.

“Oh, fuck,” Tony whispers, lifting his hips and spreading his legs wider as Bucky leans over him.

Tony’s fingers curl into Bucky's hair, and Bucky braces his hands against the mattress, bunching up the sheets as he pushes slowly inside. Tony exhales beneath him, then takes in a shaky breath; Bucky feels him struggling to relax before giving up and arching greedily, forcing Bucky in too hard and too fast until his hips are flush with Tony’s ass.

“Fuck,” Bucky wheezes.

His whole body is tense, taut as a bowstring; his thighs quiver, biceps flexing hard as he gathers more fabric into his hands, half worried he’s going to tug the sheets all the way off the bed. He drops his forehead onto Tony’s, breathing out slowly through his nose.

“Need a minute,” he says, because damn it, Tony is so tight and so perfect, he almost can’t take it.

Tony whines, hands tugging lightly at the roots of Bucky’s hair. After another deep breath, Bucky’s body starts to settle. He pulls halfway out and presses in again, and Tony gasps. “More. Please.”

Bucky nods, powerless to argue. He sets up a slow rhythm, and Tony breathes out on a small, soft noise with every roll of Bucky’s hips until his impatience gets the better of him.

“Gorgeous, I need - I need you to go faster.”

“Okay.” Bucky holds Tony’s gaze and thrusts hard and fast, burying himself even deeper. Tony cries out, and Bucky takes hold of his jaw, his touch gentle, not letting Tony look away. “Like that?”

“Yes. Yes, please - oh fuck.”

Bucky draws back and snaps his hips forward, and this time Tony screws his eyes shut, a keening noise pulled from his throat. There are tears in Tony’s eyes when they open, and one hand moves to grip Bucky’s metal shoulder, the other still tangled in his hair.

“Do that again.”

Bucky takes Tony’s hand and pins it down to the bed, metal fingers closed loosely around his wrist. “Ask nicely,” Bucky whispers, watching Tony’s eyes grow wide and dark.

“Please,” Tony begs. “Please please please, do that again. Just like that. Please.”

Bucky laces metal fingers with Tony’s, still holding his hand against the mattress, and then he’s driving into Tony like his life depends on it, the punishing rhythm dragging him quickly toward the edge. Sweat beads on his brow, pleasure radiating outward from the pit of his stomach and crawling up his spine.

Damn it. He's already too close. He should slow down, he should-

“Don't you dare stop,” Tony says hoarsely.

“Tony. I can't-”

“I know. I know. I can't either. Just - ah - please don't stop.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, his voice an octave too low. He thrusts again, changing his angle just slightly, and Tony all but howls.

Bucky can't help himself, not when Tony makes sounds like that. The pressure builds, and it barely takes four more strokes, hard and deep, before Bucky's trembling with the effort of holding back. “Tony.”

“Fuck. Oh fuck, Bucky, I'm so close.”

“Me too.” It's all Bucky can manage, his hands gripping hard, his rhythm starting to falter.

“Oh my god,” Tony gasps, tilting his head back. “Bucky. Please. I need-”

Bucky wraps his metal hand around Tony’s cock, and Tony cries out, arching into the touch.

That's it - that's all Tony needs, and suddenly he's coming in spurts, nails raking over Bucky's shoulders, Bucky's name tumbling from his lips over and over and over until it's too much. The blissed-out look on Tony's face, the sound of his own name echoing in his ears - fuck.

Bucky makes a desperate noise low in his throat, because he's so close and damn if Tony isn't the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever seen. The heat around him grows impossibly tight, and Bucky chokes on a moan, thrusting just once before he comes undone, his world reduced to one man and one word as everything explodes.

His orgasm shudders through him, each spasm wringing a cry from his throat until he’s hoarse. Bucky empties himself into Tony, his muscles shaking, lips parted, eyes shut.

~

It takes Bucky a long time to catch his breath. He rests his forehead against Tony’s, opening his eyes. “You okay?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah. You?”

Bucky nods.

Tony leans up and kisses him, threading his fingers through Bucky's hair. “You can lie on me, you know. I promise you're not too heavy.”

Bucky lifts his head, stretching into Tony’s touch. “How about we switch, instead?” Bucky shifts, pulling out slowly, trying to be as gentle as he can. He ties the condom off and tosses it into the small wastebasket, then rolls over onto his back. Bucky smiles as Tony curls into him, Tony’s head resting on his chest, covering some of his scars.

“You smell good,” Bucky murmurs, nuzzling Tony’s hair.

Tony presses closer. “Hmm. Glad you think so.” Tony kisses Bucky’s chest, and one hand comes to rest on Bucky’s abdomen, calloused fingers tracing absent circles over Bucky’s skin. “I don’t want to say something and ruin it, but… This is sort of perfect.”

“Doesn’t ruin it,” Bucky says.

“Thank god.”

Bucky gets the impression that Tony’s thankful for more than not ruining the moment. There’s so much profound relief in that statement, but Bucky doesn’t want to read too much into it, doesn’t want to let himself get carried away. He closes his eyes, comforted by the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest against his side.

Tony’s right. This is sort of perfect.