annarr | overflow }

Anything for you. ( a gentle brush of their lips. ) Everything for you.

( how hard he'd fallen, and how quickly, still. but no other has ever eased with such consistency, left him soaring with joy from mere moments.

though the day-to-day may still prove difficult, at times, a refuge awaits even by text alone. the value of that cannot be replaced.

his hand around back presses loki harder against him, and the hand at loki's hip tugs insistently. he wants more. needs more. )

[this part, at least, isn't difficult. keen intimacy, wanting, needing, giving; since that dam broke, the flow has been entirely natural. if it all takes a headier tone in the midst of genuine emotion, well, that certainly doesn't make it difficult.

dangerous, perhaps, but they're already deep in the danger of it.]

Everything?

Everything, ( he affirms.

he'd already promised, and promises must be kept. together or not at all. )

[it's enough. it's so much more than enough. it's an overwhelming bounty, sending a shiver up his spine at least as much as the hands pressed against his body.

being able to sink back into this certainty is, for the moment, everything. loki pours himself back into the press of lips, of body against body, tasting the oath between them and binding it with the drag of blunt nails against the man's scalp.]

( the kiss is returned fervently until the nip of nails forces a shudder to rip through him, lips breaking away as bucky gasps with delight and tries to control the tremor in next breath. humming as he leans back in, the hand at loki's hip slips further around to dig his fingers into the supple curve of loki's rear.

there are still further ways to bind them together, aren't there? )

[strange, to be this pressed and pawed and still need to be closer, but here they are. loki's cool fingers leave off their clinging to start tugging at clothing--bucky's, his own, it doesn't matter. what matters, between fevered presses of lips, is to find the certainty of skin on skin.

will they tilt over at some point in all the fumbling? perhaps. that doesn't matter either. this matters. showing matters.]

( the soldier hadn't always been so insatiable, but loki had reintroduced an appetite he'd long forgotten about, one that greatly augments the intensity of emotion, and now the urge comes naturally as they've grown more physical.

overall still shy in approach, some things are simply impossible to deny, after a while. much has still yet to be explored, the door only having just been opened, but with possibility comes curiosity. the fact loki seems to want him helps greatly, too.

bucky doesn't want a direct tumble, if it can be helped, so even as they shift closer toward the inviting collection of blankets and pillows, he's methodical in approach. each tug of clothing coaxes, urges the reveal of bare skin with diligent persistence. shedding the layers takes time of its own, and there is still something to be savored with the gradual revelation of flesh.

though his own shirt still remains, once seeing the pale of loki's chest in full, he draws away from the ever eager clash of lips, teeth, and tongue to kiss down loki's neck to his collar, right hand idly tracing up from loki's bared abdomen to appreciate this beautiful, new expanse, fingers catching lightly against sensitive skin. )

[in some ways, it's absolutely maddening. so much of loki's life (essence, even) has been a question of riding the tides of chaos, letting moments of high emotion like this rip and tear and shred everything within him to pieces, finding new patterns to put himself back together.

the hunger of the moment is familiar enough. the act of being stripped by a lover is familiar as well. the care of it, clean and methodical rather than frantic and scrambling, is... not perfectly new, perhaps, but still strange. still fresh. still, ultimately, lovely, because it's the way bucky chooses to devote himself to the moment.

besides, the result is a wonderful reward. his skin prickles, a cold sort of burning in the wake of each press of lips and fingers to newly exposed skin. his own hands are much less methodical, tangling in the back of bucky's shirt to keep the man pressed close, breath coming short and shallow. dizzied, he tugs them both toward the waiting nest, trembling with the dual desires to move and to keep in constant contact.]

( they drift easily, contact held like a promise. vibranium settles against loki's lower back to keep him steady as they move, a tad cool but hardly cold, quickly matching the cooling warmth that had been held in with clothing. eyes keeping watch of the ground, subtle navigation keeps them from tripping and colliding to the floor. when a cozy space is determined, bucky's right hand seeks loki's left, taking it carefully to offer for balance. )

Here, love, ( he murmurs at the corner of loki's jaw, his lips having climbed back upward through the journey, faint puffs of warm breath catching against the shell of loki's ear. squeezing loki's hand gently, he continues. ) I've got you.

[the variation of sensations between the hands on his skin is entirely pleasant. it's a clear, indelible reminder of exactly who's holding him, even when his mind is addled over with want. the voice against his skin is the same; a sensation even more than a sound, reverberating deep down into his core.]

I know.

[bucky always has him. comparatively mortal and comparatively fragile, but also so comparatively reliable. it doesn't stop the tremble that's been growing in his chest, fingers clenching too tight around the hand holding his own.

going down is gentle, with bucky is leverage. being down is much less so, legs hooking around the soldier's to keep pressed tight, body shuddering slightly with the overwhelmed sensation of being so entirely at home.]

( the shudder sings through bucky, too, the pull of loki's legs having placed him flush and with his full weight against thinner frame. were loki not asgardian with strength comparable to his own, the soldier would be more worried of crushing him with the density of his mass. they've lain together like this before anyway, though clothed and without loki teasing the friction of their bodies.

grinding his hips down in answer seems the best way to respond in kind. )

[the weight is reassuring. the friction is thrilling. the entire panoply of sensations is almost overwhelming.

if there were other words to share, they're lost in a tangle of soft mewling noises. loki's hips shift against the rhythm of bucky's, legs squeezing to encourage the press and hands clawing to get the man's shirt off.

it's safe. it's grounded. it's still making him squirm with the desperation for more.]

( bucky's voice is no more coherent, a slew of moans spilling eagerly from his lip as the rhythm grows more pronounced, certain.

the feeling of eager hands reminds of imbalance, elbows pressing to the ground so that the soldier can sit up where he also straddles. his jacket is tossed aside, t-shirt peeled from his skin. though he could easily lean back in, find that gloriously brush of skin against skin again, instead bucky continues rocking in place, using gravity to better build the pressure between their still clothed groins. )

[the air feels cool and prickling as bucky shifts upright. it will be worth the temporary absence to be pressed properly together. in a small way, it's worth it to have a moment of dazedly watching the man strip, shedding fabric to unveil the fascinating reality beneath--flesh and metal, muscled and soft, smooth and scarred.

beautiful, loki's mind seems to whisper to itself. beautiful in so many ways to the standards of society (and he's fairly certain bucky would more than meet many of the aesthetic conceits of asgard as well as midgard), but so much more beautiful for the fractures.

they survive. they endure. here, now, they'll do all of that together.

the words that bubble through the soft pants and moans are garbled--and, perhaps, too ancient for the allspeak to translate properly. loki's spine arches, trembling fingers pawing at the man's legs for purchase to drag bucky down again.]

( even if he wanted to tease out more of that desperation, he's far too lost in appreciation to do anything other then lean back in, more than eager to please and sate. his body already misses the lock of loki's legs pulling against him urgently.

there's no need to speak either, if their mouths are occupied. all the better anyway, as bucky has grown fond of the gradual bruising of his lips while tasting loki over and over and over and over—

what a conundrum, to also want so much more physically and be satisfied with the simple glide and mesh of lips, tongue, and teeth. )

[that's better. it's like coming up for air to press lips hungrily together again, even if it's also a bit like drowning. here, at least, his fingers can find purchase and cling to bucky's shoulders, blunt nails digging half-moons into the man's flesh.

his teeth are probably too sharp. the buck of his hips is probably too wild. there will be scratches rent into bucky's back and bruises mottling his own.

more would be good. just this for ages would be good. they're good. that's all loki's mind has space for in the moment, which is... well, one of the many blessings of having what they have.]

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