She didn't dare breathe until his hands were in hers, Natasha immediately reaching out for him once he was close enough to touch. Her fingers laced tightly with his, closing over flesh and metal alike, her eyes drifting closed as Bucky stepped closer still and leaned into her, the warmth of his breath - he was here, he was alive, he was real - sending small shivers skittering over her. He murmured words into her loose curls, saying that he missed her, and God, hadn't she done the same?
Natasha lifted her lashes to look up into those beautiful eyes, bringing up her left hand to touch his cheek just as his right sank into her hair, hearing his quiet admission. The back of her knuckles slowly smoothed over the side of his face, along the edge of his jaw, then the pad of her thumb ghosted over Bucky's lower lip, and she gave him a small soft smile, shaking her head lightly.
"It's okay," she assured him in a soft whisper. "You don't have to say anything at all, James." Natasha stepped into the circle of his arms, leaning up to rest her forehead against his. "I missed you, too." Her eyes lowered, lashes shielding her vulnerability. "I...grieved, for you." She bit back a reflexive little sob. "I thought I'd lost you again, this time for good." She could feel the tension still in him, the uncertainty that this would last. Her grip on him tightened slightly, even as her brow furrowed a bit, and she lifted her eyes to his again, a little nonplussed.
"Do you..." Natasha licked suddenly dry lips, "...do you...still want me, James? I'm not that same little girl you knew before. Everything's--changed, now." She hadn't dared to believe he recalled their years together, back in that frozen wasteland. He'd been fighting for his very sanity after arriving here, and she'd not wanted to make that battle any harder for him. So she'd kept her distance, helped when necessary, but nothing further. Although her heart had ached with every word exchanged, every tentative smile offered, every "accidental" touch granted.
She took a breath to speak again, but a rhythmic sound emerged around the corner - the palace guard making its customary rounds. Natasha muttered an oath in Slavic, quickly but gently taking Bucky's hand in hers and tugging him down an adjacent corridor, another, then a third, pausing before a moderately ornate door, tapping a code, and striding inside when it slid open. It drifted closed after they both entered, and she turned back to the former Winter Soldier - her lover - and smiled her crooked smile.
"We can...talk, I guess, here. Steve'll probably come looking before too long, so we should make it...quick, maybe." Although the tilt of her head and the teeth worrying at her lower lip denoted "talk" being the least of her concerns just now.
Bucky leans into her touches, quieting and just feeling, the proximity of her, the way that her touch trails over his face and along his jaw, and when her thumb drags over his bottom lip he wants to drop all pretenses and just kiss her then and there. But he doesn't. He holds onto his self-control, even if he shivers a little, and there's a flicker of desire in his eyes.
Her words are reassuring, the way that her forehead rests against his, just feeling her as she says that she missed him too. The way that she says that she'd grieved, that she'd thought that she'd lost him-- and he wants to reassure her, to tell her that he's here now, and he doesn't plan on leaving, but then there's that question and it hits him hard in his heart. It catches his breath, and the way that his head tilts, the look in his eyes, the way that he reaches out, almost tentative, his fingers against her jaw-- the answer there is easy.
But then Natasha was taking his hand and pulling him along so they could avoid the steps of the palace guard on the moment. "Change isn't always a bad thing," is all he murmurs in answer- for now- as she tugs him after her and he follows easily. He doesn't want the moment interrupted. He just wants... some time with her, some time to feel something, to whisper reassurances that he wont leave her again, and to feel her warmth. To touch, if she'll allow it.
Although, when she opens the door and they step inside, that pause, the way she tilts her head with her teeth on her lip, well. Bucky was sharp enough to read the signs that maybe talking wasn't precisely what she had on her mind. In truth, it wasn't exactly on his, either, but he was trying to be good. Even if it was hard. If what he really wanted was more skin on skin and warmth and touch and something on his lips that didn't taste like ashes.
"I still want you." He says it easily, a twitch of a smile to his lips, but there's a serious sort of earnestness in his blue eyes as he look at her. "You're not who you were, and neither am I. For me that's a good thing," he says, reaching out so that his fingers can trace against her jaw, and he leans in close so he can breathe in her hair. "For you- you survived, Natalia. You become something new, something stronger than any of the people who trained you could have seen. Even me."
He leans in, lips a soft brush against her ear. "And I still want to kiss you," he murmurs, his voice hitching low. Kissing isn't the only thing he means. But also, well- he hasn't really been intimate with anyone in a long, long time. But he's just glad to be here, glad he's with her.
Somehow, Natasha again found herself trapped between her bedroom wall and James Barnes' solid frame, but she didn't mind in the slightest. This was as close as they'd ever been in damn near twenty years, and she realized that she was trembling all over not from trepidation, but from keen anticipation.
Teeth tightened on her lower lip as she listened to his response, a soft little noise escaping when he touched her face and leaned closer, and she fought a shiver at the feel of his warm breath on her skin, letting her lashes flutter closed in near-bliss.
Kiss me...
"...I want you to," she breathed back, her lips against his own ear, breath stirring the dark hair at his temple. "Please." It was a quivering plea, so unlike her customary aloof strength. For him, she was vulnerable, for him she'd nearly died inside. "I want you to kiss me, James. Kiss me and touch me and never let go ever again..."
She slowly wound her arms around him, easing him close and flush against her, they fitting together as perfectly now as they had then. It was heaven to touch him, to run her fingers through his hair and over his cheek, grizzled and rough. Natasha just pressed her lips against his, a bolt of pure electricity coursing down her back at that tentative caress.
They were so careful, almost hesitant, it nearly broke her heart. But she wanted him, had always wanted him, and she was irrationally afraid that Fate would rip him again from her arms, and she knew she couldn't survive it again. Not again.
"James..." His name on her lips trembled softly, and she clutched him tighter. "Please."
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
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Natasha lifted her lashes to look up into those beautiful eyes, bringing up her left hand to touch his cheek just as his right sank into her hair, hearing his quiet admission. The back of her knuckles slowly smoothed over the side of his face, along the edge of his jaw, then the pad of her thumb ghosted over Bucky's lower lip, and she gave him a small soft smile, shaking her head lightly.
"It's okay," she assured him in a soft whisper. "You don't have to say anything at all, James." Natasha stepped into the circle of his arms, leaning up to rest her forehead against his. "I missed you, too." Her eyes lowered, lashes shielding her vulnerability. "I...grieved, for you." She bit back a reflexive little sob. "I thought I'd lost you again, this time for good." She could feel the tension still in him, the uncertainty that this would last. Her grip on him tightened slightly, even as her brow furrowed a bit, and she lifted her eyes to his again, a little nonplussed.
"Do you..." Natasha licked suddenly dry lips, "...do you...still want me, James? I'm not that same little girl you knew before. Everything's--changed, now." She hadn't dared to believe he recalled their years together, back in that frozen wasteland. He'd been fighting for his very sanity after arriving here, and she'd not wanted to make that battle any harder for him. So she'd kept her distance, helped when necessary, but nothing further. Although her heart had ached with every word exchanged, every tentative smile offered, every "accidental" touch granted.
She took a breath to speak again, but a rhythmic sound emerged around the corner - the palace guard making its customary rounds. Natasha muttered an oath in Slavic, quickly but gently taking Bucky's hand in hers and tugging him down an adjacent corridor, another, then a third, pausing before a moderately ornate door, tapping a code, and striding inside when it slid open. It drifted closed after they both entered, and she turned back to the former Winter Soldier - her lover - and smiled her crooked smile.
"We can...talk, I guess, here. Steve'll probably come looking before too long, so we should make it...quick, maybe." Although the tilt of her head and the teeth worrying at her lower lip denoted "talk" being the least of her concerns just now.
no subject
Her words are reassuring, the way that her forehead rests against his, just feeling her as she says that she missed him too. The way that she says that she'd grieved, that she'd thought that she'd lost him-- and he wants to reassure her, to tell her that he's here now, and he doesn't plan on leaving, but then there's that question and it hits him hard in his heart. It catches his breath, and the way that his head tilts, the look in his eyes, the way that he reaches out, almost tentative, his fingers against her jaw-- the answer there is easy.
But then Natasha was taking his hand and pulling him along so they could avoid the steps of the palace guard on the moment. "Change isn't always a bad thing," is all he murmurs in answer- for now- as she tugs him after her and he follows easily. He doesn't want the moment interrupted. He just wants... some time with her, some time to feel something, to whisper reassurances that he wont leave her again, and to feel her warmth. To touch, if she'll allow it.
Although, when she opens the door and they step inside, that pause, the way she tilts her head with her teeth on her lip, well. Bucky was sharp enough to read the signs that maybe talking wasn't precisely what she had on her mind. In truth, it wasn't exactly on his, either, but he was trying to be good. Even if it was hard. If what he really wanted was more skin on skin and warmth and touch and something on his lips that didn't taste like ashes.
"I still want you." He says it easily, a twitch of a smile to his lips, but there's a serious sort of earnestness in his blue eyes as he look at her. "You're not who you were, and neither am I. For me that's a good thing," he says, reaching out so that his fingers can trace against her jaw, and he leans in close so he can breathe in her hair. "For you- you survived, Natalia. You become something new, something stronger than any of the people who trained you could have seen. Even me."
He leans in, lips a soft brush against her ear. "And I still want to kiss you," he murmurs, his voice hitching low. Kissing isn't the only thing he means. But also, well- he hasn't really been intimate with anyone in a long, long time. But he's just glad to be here, glad he's with her.
no subject
Teeth tightened on her lower lip as she listened to his response, a soft little noise escaping when he touched her face and leaned closer, and she fought a shiver at the feel of his warm breath on her skin, letting her lashes flutter closed in near-bliss.
Kiss me...
"...I want you to," she breathed back, her lips against his own ear, breath stirring the dark hair at his temple. "Please." It was a quivering plea, so unlike her customary aloof strength. For him, she was vulnerable, for him she'd nearly died inside. "I want you to kiss me, James. Kiss me and touch me and never let go ever again..."
She slowly wound her arms around him, easing him close and flush against her, they fitting together as perfectly now as they had then. It was heaven to touch him, to run her fingers through his hair and over his cheek, grizzled and rough. Natasha just pressed her lips against his, a bolt of pure electricity coursing down her back at that tentative caress.
They were so careful, almost hesitant, it nearly broke her heart. But she wanted him, had always wanted him, and she was irrationally afraid that Fate would rip him again from her arms, and she knew she couldn't survive it again. Not again.
"James..." His name on her lips trembled softly, and she clutched him tighter. "Please."