She reiterates that sentiment, that they're safe, and he trusts her. He breathes slow and low, leaning into her. The feel of her beneath him, the way she shifts has a warmth in his veins, but he doesn't push it, doesn't push her, not with how the moment feel like it see-saws between two versions of what he knows, leaving him in this limbo space in between. But she feels like a constant.
But she tips her head back as he nuzzles in against her, and he can't help the soft kisses he presses to her throat, the side of her neck, burying his face into her skin, breathing in the scent of her hair. She'd always felt like a safe space. Like when they were alone, when he could curl his arms around her that they were okay. He sighs softly as she says that he's here to watch over her, and it's true. He keeps an eye on her when he can, does what he can to keep her safe, to make sure no one thinks she's too far out of line that they pay attention to her skill and not her temper.
"Forever. I like the sound of that. I want to keep you forever, my precious Natalia." Her knees press to his hips, and he shifts a little, sliding his arm underneath her. His metal hand that holds her other wrist gentle but firm, fingers stroking against her skin. She always makes him feel alive. "Yes. We'll be safe as long as we're together," he murmurs. Which hadn't been true then, no matter how much he'd tried to make it so, they'd taken him away. But here, now, it can be. They can watch over one another, make sure nothing hurts them.
Bucky murmurs as her lips press to his, and he leans into her, and he kisses her like he's drinking her in, like he's drowning, heady and desperate. And when their lips part, and she whispers words to him in soft Russian, he lets it wash over him. When he speaks, his voice is a little unsteady, a little lost. "Natasha?" He looks her over in the dim light, fingers not pulling away from her, but like he's unsure-- making sure that she's safe.
He wants her, wants to make her writhe, but he also wants to hold her tight, bury his face into her skin and just listen to her heartbeat until dawn. He couldn't articulate it exactly, but he knows what it is to lose her. He knows how precious she is to him. Natalia. Natasha. Both and something in between, and somehow in this moment the names and the masks feel like they don't matter because always, it's always her and him.
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But she tips her head back as he nuzzles in against her, and he can't help the soft kisses he presses to her throat, the side of her neck, burying his face into her skin, breathing in the scent of her hair. She'd always felt like a safe space. Like when they were alone, when he could curl his arms around her that they were okay. He sighs softly as she says that he's here to watch over her, and it's true. He keeps an eye on her when he can, does what he can to keep her safe, to make sure no one thinks she's too far out of line that they pay attention to her skill and not her temper.
"Forever. I like the sound of that. I want to keep you forever, my precious Natalia." Her knees press to his hips, and he shifts a little, sliding his arm underneath her. His metal hand that holds her other wrist gentle but firm, fingers stroking against her skin. She always makes him feel alive. "Yes. We'll be safe as long as we're together," he murmurs. Which hadn't been true then, no matter how much he'd tried to make it so, they'd taken him away. But here, now, it can be. They can watch over one another, make sure nothing hurts them.
Bucky murmurs as her lips press to his, and he leans into her, and he kisses her like he's drinking her in, like he's drowning, heady and desperate. And when their lips part, and she whispers words to him in soft Russian, he lets it wash over him. When he speaks, his voice is a little unsteady, a little lost. "Natasha?" He looks her over in the dim light, fingers not pulling away from her, but like he's unsure-- making sure that she's safe.
He wants her, wants to make her writhe, but he also wants to hold her tight, bury his face into her skin and just listen to her heartbeat until dawn. He couldn't articulate it exactly, but he knows what it is to lose her. He knows how precious she is to him. Natalia. Natasha. Both and something in between, and somehow in this moment the names and the masks feel like they don't matter because always, it's always her and him.