battlemaged | open post

From:

Hawke’s grin slanted a little more, hearing that. That Bucky wanted this too was heady, heady knowledge, and Hawke would be doing them both a disservice by insisting the attraction was nothing more than physical. There was a connection here, something that went deeper than flesh, something real and alive.

He didn't pull away; instead he slowly slipped his arms around Bucky’s waist, large hands resting flat against the soldier’s back. Calm, gentle, safe. Though they hadn’t discussed much of their respective pasts yet, Hawke was intuitive enough to figure a lot of it did include the physical, and that Bucky carried a heavy burden because of it. And he wanted to let this man know that he understood, he cared, and he would never see him as lesser because of any abnormality or blemish.

He’d proven that back in Kirkwall, after all.

“I’m glad you let me,” Hawke confessed in his low voice. “You taste magnificent…” Since the opportunity was there, he stole another sweet kiss for himself.

“But now I have to know,” he teased, tone lilting a little playfully, forehead still against Bucky’s as he swayed them side to side, just enough, “what have you been thinking about, my darling Bucky Barnes?”

From:

endof_theline

Bucky's been struggling to find this connection ever since he's been back. With Steve gone, it's been even harder. He knows how lucky he is though, finding Rowen by chance like this. Rowen makes him feel a little more connected to the world.

Smiling when Rowen moves closer, he appreciates how slow he always goes. How careful he is to make sure he's aware of these movements, as he's right- the physical carries a lot of weight, a lot of memories that can get tangled up and put on edge if not dealt with carefully. The thing is, for Bucky- it's not that he needs to be treated gently for himself, he's just worried about those around him. He doesn't want to hurt Rowen if he's caught off guard. He doesn't want to lash out. In his head, he's still very much a weapon most of the time, but the last thing he ever wants to do is hurt anyone else again.

There's still so much he needs to tell Rowen, but it's been small steps.

His hands remain where they are as Rowen kisses him again, and he can feel his tension and anxiety from earlier start to lessen. He's even alright with Rowen being in his space like this, resting his forehead against his own, when he swore he didn't want to see a single soul. Rowen seems to be the exception.

There's a hint of a smile on his face at Rowen's question, even a warmth that spreads across his cheeks. "Been thinking about... what it would feel like to have your hands on me. What you feel like under all those clothes. Been thinkin' about what it would feel like to have a man pressed against me in a way I've never really felt before."

From:

battlemaged

A swift lance of sheer heat went through Hawke's gut at Bucky's quiet confession, only to be tempered with gentle tenderness; this definitely wasn't the time to throw his sweet soldier to the floor and ravish him senseless. No matter how he might want to.

Now was for smiling just as calmly as he always had, perhaps let his hands wander a bit higher on Bucky's back, sensitive fingertips tracing the defined lines of muscle felt even beneath all the layers, and keep his voice low, warm, and even.

"Have you now?" One hand left Bucky's back to again cup his cheek, calloused thumb ghosting across blush-warmed skin, a loving caress. "That's easily remedied, love. Whatever you want, or whatever you need, if I can give it, I will."

A breath, shared between them, and then Hawke tilted his head a little further, running his lips along the line of Bucky's jaw to murmur beneath his ear, "And believe me, I want to put my hands on you. All over you."

From:

endof_theline

He knows it's a dangerous line to cross-- though dangerous might not be the right word for it. Just different, unknown. A line to cross that he hasn't crossed yet before. Not with another man, anyway. That part isn't what he's hung up on, though. It's himself, who he is, what he looks like. It's hard to explain to a date that he has a metal arm that was forced on him, used as a weapon.

It's why he's a little nervous now, as he tells Rowen what he's thinking, because he knows where it could lead. And still he says it, because he wants it. Wants him. Bucky's eyes fall closed as Rowen's lips slide along his jaw, words spoken softly against his ear.

He sucks in a breath, then slowly breathes out again, leaning into the touch. He wants this. "There's something I need to tell you about first."

From:

battlemaged

He'd learned, with Fenris, to listen with more than just his ears. To feel a pulse racing beneath flushed skin, to sense the swift intake of breath just before a stuttering heartbeat. That experience served him well now, because Bucky was almost exactly the same way. Something was coming, Hawke sensed it, and when he heard Bucky's next words, the mage lifted his head and nodded.

No judgment, no censure, not even any outward curiosity. Just a gentle...expectancy. "All right." He was always willing to listen. To shoulder any burden that he could. And to give Bucky a bit more space, Hawke obligingly took a step back, fingertips gliding along the edges of Bucky's jacket sleeves to very lightly rest their palms together, a gesture of silent support.

Hawke's blue eyes are just as warm as they've ever been, bright and clear. Waiting to understand.

"Take your time."

From:

endof_theline

Bucky doesn't especially want Rowen to move away from him, but it's probably for the best that he does, even if just a little bit. Even so, he keeps his gloved palms faced up against Hawke's, quiet as he tries to figure out how to talk about this.

The bare minimum, he decides, because the rest is too hard to get into.

"It's-- it's interesting, because when I first met you I was relieved that you weren't from around here. That you didn't know the history of this world, or everything that's happened. You didn't recognize me."

People don't always anymore, especially in New York City, but Bucky knows that when they do, people look at him in fear. It was nice to go out with someone who had no idea.

"Which makes it harder now, cause a lot of it won't even mean anything to you, but-- I guess that doesn't really matter either."

He's taking his time with this. He knows it. He needs to.

From:

battlemaged

Hawke simply let Bucky talk, nodding here and there to show he was indeed listening, and understanding, as much as he could. Enough hints had been dropped for him to discern that something, or several somethings, had happened in Bucky's past, and more than likely all of them had been awful.

A keen observer - when he wanted to be - Hawke had watched Bucky with a covert eye, taking note of many small details most wouldn't even recognize. The way he never turned his back to a door, the brief but noticeable tenses whenever a movement was abrupt or sudden. The constant surveillance of their surroundings, never resting, never truly at ease with others in the vicinity. And how Bucky's right hand always seemed to flinch to his right side, as if reaching for a weapon that might or might not be concealed there.

He'd seen it before. Isabela, and of course Zevran, had exhibited the very same traits.

In a reassuring effort, Hawke commented, "For what it's worth, my hands aren't exactly clean, either." A corner of his mouth ticked, wry amusement. "And it's just as well that you aren't familiar with Thedas' recent history, else you might not be so charitable."

From:

endof_theline

It actually is reassuring in a way, to know that Hawke has done things as well. He's picked up on that too, in bits and pieces of conversations. There's a good man standing here in front of him, though. Bucky doesn't trust people, almost not at all, but there's just something about Rowen he wants to trust.

He offers Hawke the smallest of crooked smiles, giving him a nod, before he breathes out another slow breath. "I was captured by the enemy during what this world calls World War Two. It was about 75 years ago. I was captured twice, and experimented on." He starts, but then he stops again, shaking his head. "I can't talk to you about everything that happened. I don't want to-- I don't want to think about all of that when I really just want to be here with you."

The bare minimum, he reminds himself.

"What I do want to tell you is that the experiments involved giving me something called a super soldier serum. I'm strong- very strong. And they-" They brainwashed me to kill people, gets stuck in his throat. He's not ready for that yet. "I lost my arm, so they replaced it with a metal one. A weapon."

Bucky pulls his hands from Hawke's and slowly pulls his gloves off. The right one, Hawke already knows is his real one. The left is a metallic black and gold. "After some time, that metal arm was damaged, and replaced with Vibranium. It was a gift from the Wakandans. They helped me try to get my life back.

I just figured if you were gonna see me or touch me without my clothes on- you should know that I'm not... normal. Regular. Whatever."

From:

battlemaged

Well. That certainly explained a lot. And Hawke didn't have to be a history scholar to put the pieces together. The "enemy", as Bucky styled it, had taken this good man, this young soldier, and turned him into a living weapon. An assassin. An asset to be used at a master's whim, with no moral compass in sight.

Maker, he suddenly wondered if he wasn't staring at Fenris' human twin.

That thought was only solidified further when Bucky revealed his hidden left hand, and Hawke couldn't help the lift of his eyebrows at seeing such a thing. He didn't mean to just stare, but the gold plating kept catching his eye, drawing his fascinated gaze over the metal.

But Bucky's face was where his eyes truly belonged, so Hawke lifted his gaze back to the soldier's tightly drawn countenance, very slowly reaching for both now-bare hands with his. The metal was cool to his heated fingertips, but it was Bucky's right hand that he lightly squeezed in support. In understanding.

"Does it pain you?" were the first words out of his mouth, brows crimped in sympathy. "I can try to take some of it away, if you'll let me." Hawke wasn't entirely sure just how deep these hurts went, but they had to be buried way down, for them to emerge so hesitantly.

From:

endof_theline

Hawke is not wrong. That's the gist of it. And if it seems like he's just as new to so many things in this world as Hawke is, that's because he is. For decades he was just a ghost, and assassin. He was sent to kill, then mind wiped and put into cryogenic freezing. Bucky won't tell him about that now. Maybe some day, but he can't tonight.

Bucky is able to stand this arm better than the last. It isn't as painfully attached to him, and he has better movement with it. He can feel a little more sensation along the ridges. It's alright if Hawke looks, he knows it's a thing. Bucky does hesitate when Hawke reaches for his hands, though, but he doesn't pull away. It feels good to have a soft touch against them, and Hawke isn't looking at him like he's some kind of freak.

But when Hawke tells him he can take some of the pain away, he does tense up, pulling his hands away. "No. I don't want that."

From:

battlemaged

Immediately Hawke stepped back, allowing Bucky to do the same. And nods. "All right, all right." It was Bucky's choice, of course. And Hawke had the sneaking suspicion that this broken soldier hadn't been given many of those since his capture, apparently so very long ago.

Yet the mage was distinctly recalling Bucky's questions about his healing magic, though it seemed the former was still on the fence about it. Which was fine; again, it was Bucky's choice.

So Hawke resumed his calm, relaxed stance, along with his calm, relaxed smile, and said, "Thank you for telling me. That couldn't have been easy." A moment passed, then two, and Hawke added, "For whatever it's worth, I don't see you any different than I did five minutes ago." But this time, he didn't reach out again. As before, it was Bucky's choice.

From:

endof_theline

He doesn't mean to react so harshly, but it seems like an intense thing to him. Taking the pain away wouldn't change anything he did, it wouldn't take the pain away of the people he hurt. That, to him, is the most crucial part in this. The part he can't forgive himself for. Taking the pain away would be like absolving himself of those things and-- no, he doesn't want that.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I know you mean well...I'm just not ready for that."

He feels bad for putting distance between them, but he doesn't reach out. He searches Hawke's face, then gives a nod. "Thanks. For listening, for-- not judging. It's uhm. It's metal all the way up to my shoulder, so- I figured sooner or later you'd find out. I didn't wanna ruin any moments."

Feels like he might've anyway- but he hopes not.

From:

battlemaged

Hawke shook his head, still calm. “No apology necessary. If you’re not ready, then you’re not. You’re the only one who will know when you are.”

Although hearing that the metal went all the way up to Bucky’s shoulder was a bit startling. “Really…? That’s…amazing, honestly. I’ve never seen such a thing. But it’s truly a marvel, especially as it seems…a fully functioning limb.”

As for listening… “You’re welcome, my darling. I can understand the trepidation, as well as the hesitation.” Hawke leaned forward a bit, but was careful not to crowd or pressure.

“I won’t say no if you’d like another kiss…?”

From:

endof_theline

Bucky gives a small smile at that, along with a nod. Only he will know when he's ready. He can be okay with that.

"Amazing's never been a word I've used for it, but... thanks." He's incredibly self conscious about it when he's not on a mission. When he's just living in the world as Bucky Barnes, it's still hard for him. At least the vibranium arm is better than the metal. He doesn't constantly feel like he wants to rip it off. "It's fully functioning, yeah. It's a little cold, though."

Now that he's had a chance to settle, to see that Hawke is alright with it, with him, he can relax again when the other man moves back into his space. "I'd like that, yeah."

From:

battlemaged

“Cold doesn’t bother me,” Hawke grinned, slipping one arm back around Bucky’s waist. A brief but lingering kiss followed, then Hawke added, “I have fire magic, remember?”

He didn’t give Bucky enough time to answer, however, because yet another kiss followed, this one deeper than any of the others since Hawke tilted his head and slanted his mouth right over Bucky’s, no hesitation in sight. It was acceptance, willingness, and mutual understanding expressed between them, along with a good dose of old-fashioned want.

Enough for Hawke to gently maneuver Bucky back against the kitchen counter, not to trap him, but to support, to protect. And to actually feel the sensation of a strong, powerful male body against his, tantalizing in its unfamiliarity.

From:

endof_theline

Bucky remembers the fire magic. He remembers what it felt like on his skin, and even wonders what it would feel like on his metal arm. Those thoughts are quickly pushed back a bit by Hawke's lips against his own, and he's relieved that he didn't make this too weird, or mess it up.

The deeper kiss has him reaching out again, sliding his hands to Hawke's waist. It's a kiss that pulls him in, opens him up, has him leaning in for more, even as his back presses up against the counter.

He can feel it then- what he had been thinking about about all this time. The way Hawke feels pressed against him, a heat that he's pretty damn sure isn't part of Hawke's magic, filling every spot where their bodies connect. Bucky moves his real hand up to Hawke's face, glad to finally have skin against skin.

From:

battlemaged

Bucky was just as delicious and delectable as he'd ever been, and Hawke took full advantage of the reciprocity to wind them closer together, greedily insistent. Skin against skin was magnificent, just as sweet as Bucky's open mouth and curious tongue. Fabric rasped as the two men moved against each other, but it was a salacious friction in Hawke's ears, but he finally had to lift his head to catch a swift breath, leaning his cheek into the hand that cupped his face.

"Tell me," he managed to rasp, voice gone husky with barely-leashed desire, "...tell me if I go too far." Because the last thing he wanted to do was to overstep, or, Maker forbid, trigger an instinctive response. He leaned his forehead against Bucky's once again, simply breathing him in. "I'll never hurt you, Bucky, you know that."

From:

endof_theline

Bucky doesn't hesitate to return each kiss, the tension that has built up melting away little by little once again. They're closer than he's let anyone get in a very long time, but it feels good. He doesn't feel trapped or on edge. He doesn't feel like he's going to lash out and hurt Rowen in any way.

When the kiss breaks, Bucky licks his lips, eyes focusing on Rowen's face, letting those words settle in against him. "If I ever feel like it's too much, I'll tell you." Because that's important. Consent, honesty, knowing their limits. It's very important to him, and he imagines it is for Hawke as well.

Bucky's forehead presses back against Rowen's and he breathes out against his lips. Does he know that? That Rowen would never hurt him? He wants to believe it, and that'll have to be good enough, so he nods. "I know you don't want to. I don't want to hurt you either."

He knows it's different from what Rowen said, but it's closest to the truth.

From:

battlemaged

Hawke nodded. "Good." Honesty was absolutely required in a relationship such as this, and Hawke knew it. But he wanted this. He'd found someone wonderfully special in Bucky Barnes, and he wasn't at all ready to lose him. Unless that was Bucky's choice, of course. It would be heartbreaking, but he'd lived through heartbreak before; it wasn't anything even remotely new.

And now it was time to try something new. With deliberate slowness, Hawke lifted his head, reached for Bucky's hands, and pointedly brought them to the buttons of his shirt. "If you want," he whispered in a low voice, teasing his mouth against Bucky's, soft little kisses of mutual desire and offered reassurance.

From:

endof_theline

It's still very new, but Bucky's hopeful. Rowen is patient and understanding- he makes it easier to be here, living life instead of just trying to survive it. Bucky feels like he knows the other man has a good heart, and tonight has just been more proof of that. He plans on sticking around.

He wouldn't be here in this position with Rowen if he felt any other way.

When his hands are brought up to Rowen's chest, against the buttons on his shirt, Bucky knows what he wants, even if his heart rate spikes hard. He breathes out softly against Rowen's lips, then presses in for those soft little kisses as he slowly starts to unbutton the top button, then slides his fingers down to the next, and the one after that, making his way down. When he gets Rowen's shirt undone completely, he pulls back from the kisses a little, resting his forehead against the other man's.

"Just warning you- the metal might be cold."

From:

battlemaged

Hawke had trailed his fingertips upwards over Bucky's arms to his shoulders as the soldier worked on the shirt buttons, and once the fabric spread Hawke slid his hands down Bucky's back once more, safe and close. Each step they took was profound, and each step taken they'd take together. Hawke would see to that.

Their foreheads resting together yet again, breathing the other's breath, Hawke smiled at Bucky's quiet comment. "It's a delicious contrast," he replied, absolutely meaning it. The brush of those fascinating fingertips had made him shiver, delightfully so. And now, it was his turn.

Lifting his head, Hawke met Bucky's gaze without waver, bringing his hands to the zipper of the latter's jacket. He already knew what lay beneath it, but revealing the flesh in its entirety was a different animal altogether. The newfangled clasp between his thumb and forefinger, he didn't take the liberty, but instead quietly queried, "May I?"

From:

endof_theline

A delicious contrast. Rowen knows how to make Bucky smile, even if it's a quiet one at the moment. It gives him the confidence to slide his hands into the open shirt, letting his fingers glide along warm skin. It's different, of course, than what he's used to- but the truth is, after decades of lacking a human touch in this kind of way, he's not really used to anything anymore.

Rowen feels good under his fingers. Strong and solid. He'll always be gentler with his metal arm, because he doesn't want to use it to hurt any longer, so he takes care not to.

When Rowen's hands move to the zipper of his jacket, Bucky gives him a nod. "Yes."

From:

battlemaged

An approving purr rumbled in Hawke's chest, inviting more of that curious touch, and he stole another lingering kiss from Bucky's sweet lips before very carefully lowering the jacket's zipper and parting the heavy fabric entirely. Even though the shirt beneath it was just as concealing, it was all about one layer at a time.

Carefully easing the coat over Bucky's shoulders, Hawke deftly worked it down Bucky's arms until he was able to pull it completely free, absently tossing it atop the counter behind his sweet soldier. Another shirt separated skin from skin, but rather than work on those buttons next, Hawke simply slipped his hands beneath that layer, placing his warm palms against Bucky's ribcage, flesh to flesh.

They slid around to Bucky's back, then glided upwards along his spine, bunching the material over Hawke's arms as they went. But that was fine; small steps. "...you feel wonderful," Hawke whispered against Bucky's mouth. "So very strong...but soft, as well." More kisses, small meetings of mouths, gentle nips of teeth. Hawke trailed his lips over Bucky's jaw, licked a slow wet line to the tender skin beneath his ear.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to touch you everywhere, my sweet Bucky."

From:

endof_theline

Oh, he likes that sound. He can feel it move through him, sparking an even deeper arousal than before. He leans in to kiss Rowen again, easing into the feeling of being undressed, little by little.

He moves his hands from Rowen's chest only to help him pull his jacket off, and then his hands move right back, fingers pressing along Rowen's sides, then up to his shoulders to push his shirt off of them. He has to pause there though, because the feel of Rowen's hands on his skin is so intense, so good that he forgets how to even move for a moment, letting out a soft sound of approval. The touch is warm, just like the rest of Rowen. He likes that part a lot.

"Damn... so do you. You feel incredible," he breathes out quickly after that, "Strong but soft-- exactly like that." He returns the kisses more eagerly after that, closing his eyes and letting his lips travel along the other man's jaw as well. Whatever darker mood he was in earlier seems far away from him now as he's wrapped up in Rowen, exploring him so freely.

"I want that too." Maybe not such small steps. Maybe too much too soon, but he does't think so. "I wanna feel you pressed against me in every single way."

From:

battlemaged

Hearing that, along with the breathy tone of his beautiful soldier, this time Hawke didn't ask before lifting the blue shirt over Bucky's head, carefully working the long sleeves over those mismatched arms. Of course, doing so revealed the mangled horror of that left shoulder, and Hawke couldn't help but hiss a soft breath, brows lowering in a flash of heated anger at the bastards who'd dared such a thing.

"...Bucky..." Hawke didn't even realized he'd said the other man's name, instinctively reaching for the red, scarred skin with an outstretched palm glowing a cool minty-green. Then stopped. Because Bucky had said no. He didn't want to be healed. Something else Hawke understood.

Hawke lowered his hand, its glow slowly fading. But there wasn’t an ounce of judgment in the blue eyes that sought Bucky’s, just a quiet, tender sympathy.

“…oh, love. Would that I could ease but a small bit of that burden…”

Edited Date: 2024-05-24 02:36 am (UTC)