[ Of course Bucky doesn't want him to; Steve understands perfectly. He's been on that side of this argument a dozen times before. And he knows Bucky must understand too what it's like to stand in his place, to know that no matter how much the person you loved wants to keep you safe, there is nothing you wouldn't do, no danger you wouldn't face to save him. Steve remembers the helicarrier, he remembers how he would have laid down his life then and there in exchange for Bucky's, how he would have gone down with him in fire and smoke if he couldn't protect him, couldn't wake him back to himself; he would do it again, he would do it a thousand times, for Bucky.
His breath stutters a little as Bucky pushes him down to the bed, eyes getting wider, darker. Steve forgets sometimes how different the two of them are now, how much littler Steve is, how much bigger Bucky is, how that metal arm makes his shoulders look huge and the whole of him so much more menacing than he was seventy years ago. Steve isn't afraid of him and never has been: he thinks he's beautiful, every inch of him, skin and scars and gleaming metal, and Bucky at his most intimidating takes his breath away like nothing else. Steve can't help but touch him, reaching for that metal hand and lifting it, heavy and gleaming, to his mouth, touching his lips to his palm, his eyes on Bucky's face. ] Any way you want. [ He says it in a husky voice and he means it, he would do anything for Bucky, suffer any punishment he deemed fit. ]
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[ Of course Bucky doesn't want him to; Steve understands perfectly. He's been on that side of this argument a dozen times before. And he knows Bucky must understand too what it's like to stand in his place, to know that no matter how much the person you loved wants to keep you safe, there is nothing you wouldn't do, no danger you wouldn't face to save him. Steve remembers the helicarrier, he remembers how he would have laid down his life then and there in exchange for Bucky's, how he would have gone down with him in fire and smoke if he couldn't protect him, couldn't wake him back to himself; he would do it again, he would do it a thousand times, for Bucky.
His breath stutters a little as Bucky pushes him down to the bed, eyes getting wider, darker. Steve forgets sometimes how different the two of them are now, how much littler Steve is, how much bigger Bucky is, how that metal arm makes his shoulders look huge and the whole of him so much more menacing than he was seventy years ago. Steve isn't afraid of him and never has been: he thinks he's beautiful, every inch of him, skin and scars and gleaming metal, and Bucky at his most intimidating takes his breath away like nothing else. Steve can't help but touch him, reaching for that metal hand and lifting it, heavy and gleaming, to his mouth, touching his lips to his palm, his eyes on Bucky's face. ] Any way you want. [ He says it in a husky voice and he means it, he would do anything for Bucky, suffer any punishment he deemed fit. ]