[ Sam's own torso is a hell of a lot smoother, save for a faint scar here and there from an errant knife or bullet, and the knot of burn scarring on his lower back from earlier versions of his wings. He's too caught up in instinct, in pressing in closer to Bucky, to really register Bucky staring at him, though he sure as hell feels the way that spark echoes.
There's a murmur in the back of his head that he's not thinking clearly enough to say out loud, an echo of you're fucking beautiful because it's Bucky, and Sam'd known he was doomed to find just about everything about the guy really damn attractive from the day Bucky made eye contact and smirked at him and Sam felt his breath catch.
Then his mind catches up with him, and Sam tilts his head back enough to smile at Bucky, slow and playful. ]
(Yeah, I know. Hard to handle all this looking good at once.)
[ He can feel where Bucky's not ready for him to go yet, and no matter how much he might want to explore all of Bucky, he holds back. Instead his hand strokes up Bucky's good side, palm warm and fingers spreading gently to rest over his ribcage. There's a curl of warmth to his side of the link, an invitation for Bucky to touch as much as he wants - hell, to do whatever he wants, even if that's 'pull back and take some time to get adjusted.'
Sam may like flustering Bucky, but he doesn't want to overwhelm him in a bad way. ]
(Take as long as you need, Bucky, we got no where else we need to be right now.)
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There's a murmur in the back of his head that he's not thinking clearly enough to say out loud, an echo of you're fucking beautiful because it's Bucky, and Sam'd known he was doomed to find just about everything about the guy really damn attractive from the day Bucky made eye contact and smirked at him and Sam felt his breath catch.
Then his mind catches up with him, and Sam tilts his head back enough to smile at Bucky, slow and playful. ]
( Yeah, I know. Hard to handle all this looking good at once. )
[ He can feel where Bucky's not ready for him to go yet, and no matter how much he might want to explore all of Bucky, he holds back. Instead his hand strokes up Bucky's good side, palm warm and fingers spreading gently to rest over his ribcage. There's a curl of warmth to his side of the link, an invitation for Bucky to touch as much as he wants - hell, to do whatever he wants, even if that's 'pull back and take some time to get adjusted.'
Sam may like flustering Bucky, but he doesn't want to overwhelm him in a bad way. ]
( Take as long as you need, Bucky, we got no where else we need to be right now. )