I've been a bit feral lately so have a very intimate clegan shaving drabble.
John had asked Gale a couple of times during the war to help him shave. Usually, back at Thorpe Abbotts, he would make a joke like "your arms don't work, Bucky?" and push him away with the hint of a smile. Every time, Bucky would pout like a kicked puppy, and Gale would only give him and exasperated look in return.
Eventually, he did shave John's face, but that was only while they were in the Stalag together. They were both so broken and exhausted, and John asked in a way that was pleading as opposed to teasing. The entire time, Gale had to control his breathing and try to avoid Johns eyes so as to not completely ravage him in the middle of the washroom.
After the war, John hadn't asked Gale to shave him at all. He barely talked during the mornings, barely could stand looking at the person in the mirror, but still resigned himself to get clean every morning.
Usually, Gale leaves John alone in the mornings, getting ready only after he leaves the restroom so he can have his peace. However, he decided to join him this morning.
He stands by John in silence, but can feel the tenseness of his shoulders as he brushes his teeth next to him. He watches as shaky hands pick up the razor and cream and tentatively apply the cream to his chin and neck. Gale spits out the toothpaste and grabs the washcloth by the sink when he hears John let out a tiny hiss. He whips his head towards him, and sees the tiny pool of red turning the foam pink on his cheek.
John looks over to him then, and Gale takes it as a silent plea for help. He takes the razor from his hands and gestures for John to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
It's a shocking mirror image to what had happened in the Stalag. Except now Gale could touch John however he wanted without fear of others seeing him.
Carefully, he places the razor to John's skin and drags it slightly, hearing the subtle scrape of hair being cut from his face. He puts a hand on the back of John's head, tilting it over so slightly to drag the razor over his jaw. When there's no more cream, he takes his hand and traces the sharp line of it, looking directly into John's eyes as he does so.
John looks at him like a man in worship, eyes slightly lidded and lips parted as Gale caresses him further, grabbing his chin and pulling the razor across it. He snakes his arms around his waist, pulling him closer so that Gale stands between John's open legs. Gale sighs with a hint of a smile quirking his lips up.
Gale removes his hand from John's hair and uses it to cup the shaved cheek, turning his face to work on the other side. When John tries to turn to kiss the palm of his hand, Gale tuts and wags a playful finger in front of him.
"Don't get so eager now, Bucky," He whispers.
John huffs out a laugh, relishing in the soft hand that gently holds his face. Gale tilts his face up, putting a hand around John's neck as he shaves under John's chin. John looks up at him with rapture, taking one of his hands from Gale's waist and holding it around Gale's wrist on his neck.
With one final swipe, Gale flicks the last of the cream onto the bathroom floor, but keeps his hand wrapped gently around John's neck. He squeezes ever so slightly, and John releases a tiny sound from his lips.
"Claiming me as yours, Buck?" John asks teasingly.
Gale leans down and devours John's lips, producing an almost sinful moan and John's grip on his waist gets impossibly tighter. He forces his tongue into an eager mouth, and allows the kiss to get heated. His other hand finds John's hand on his waist and squeezes it.
Gale pulls away and breathes out a laugh when John chases his lips. He takes the hand from John's neck and caresses his cheek again.
"You'll always be mine, Bucky"
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wip wednesday
tagged by @rewritetheending @onward--upward and @alyxmastershipper 💓💓💓
i haven’t reeeeally started writing anything other than planning this out broadly because it’s very plot heavy but got a little lost thinkin about the intimacy of shaving the other day so this is from x files au in some shitty shared motel room while they’re cryptid hunting or chasing aliens idk we’ll figure it out
When he emerges, hair towelled dry and in clean clothes, Eddie frowns at him.
“What?” he asks. “Promise I didn’t finish all the hot water.”
“No, you just look—” Eddie gestures at Buck’s face, “—scruffier than usual.”
“Oh,” Buck says, running a hand over his day-four stubble. “I forgot my razor.”
“Oh,” Eddie’s face clears, “just use mine.”
Buck swallows. “Um. Okay. Thanks.”
Eddie nods at him and goes back to squinting at his phone, so Buck about-faces and re-enters the bathroom.
It’s not a big deal, he tells himself as he foams up his face. It’s like—like sharing a hairbrush. Intimate, sure, not something you’d tend to do with people you don’t know well, but it’s not a big deal.
He wets the razor and brings it to his throat, heart hammering there so violently it feels like his Adam’s apple is trying to get out. If his hand doesn’t stop trembling he’s going to nick himself, and God, he is being absolutely fucking ridiculous.
Deep breath. The razor glides over the thin skin of his throat, muscle memory even as he stares at himself in the mirror. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this every morning, using this very razor. Blade edge kissing his jaw the same way it kisses Eddie’s. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this for him, hand holding his chin as he shaves Buck carefully, grip firm when he turns Buck’s face this way and that. Doesn’t think about Eddie kissing where the blade kissed him first.
Doesn’t think about any of that when he rinses the razor clean and slots it back into the travel mug, where Buck’s toothbrush rests against Eddie’s with such easy familiarity it’s about to spark a whole new crisis.
tagging @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @housewifebuck @anxieteandbiscuits @forthewolves @zahlibeth @athenagranted @buckactuallys @transboybuckley @icecreampotluck @diazblunt if you have anything to share today or later!
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