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[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. )

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