nerves_of_ice | [Leipzig AU] a means to a necessary end

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leipzig au

[Leipzig AU] a means to a necessary end

It's a long flight from Berlin to Novosibirsk and the secret location far beyond it, even in a Quinjet. They spend the time planning and coordinating. Bucky describes the structure and security of the facility itself as best he remembers. Tony calls up plans and blueprints from god knows where and throws them into the middle of the plane for all to see. They're not the same as what Bucky remembers, they figure out fairly quickly, but they're better than nothing.

Tony also takes over the back of the plane and snaps at anyone who comes close, doing something that involves shifting screens and models of buildings and wave patterns and a human skull, and the eventually the low humming grind of a machine. Soon after, he stalks back up to the front of the plane and shoves a set of custom-fabricated earplugs at Bucky, who stares at them and then at Tony.

"Noise-cancelling all the way to total sound blackout. Tap the end of the earpiece to deafen yourself," Tony informs him. "Last thing we need's for you to be his puppet." Bucky starts to stammer a thanks, but Tony growls something under his breath and stalks back to the back of the plane again to work on something else. Steve catches Bucky's eye and shakes his head, and Bucky decides to leave well enough alone.

Sam advises everyone to rest in shifts; Bucky knows he's not wrong, but neither he nor Steve can do it, and after a while Sam stops trying to convince them. Natasha sits with him for a while, her eyes dark with concern. They don't say much, but there's no need to.

A Snowcat is parked outside the door of the facility when they land. Bucky's jaw sets in hard lines at the sight of it, and he trades a look with Steve.

They're already here.

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This time her laugh bubbles up like champagne.

"Remember when I said you were ridiculous?" she teases, and threads her fingers into his hair before deliberately fisting them in it as she kisses him again.

He chuckles against her mouth, only to have the sound turn into a deep groan as she tightens her hand in his hair.

"God, baby, the way you make me feel," he whispers, when the kiss breaks.

"It's only fair," she murmurs, shivering now for entirely different reasons than a slight chill in the air as she pushes at her shirt.

"Help me get this off, please – "

All teasing aside, he undoes one cuff then the other, then helps to ease it from her shoulders and reaches behind her to unfasten her bra.

"You're so beautiful." He licks the hollow of her throat, then kisses her there. "In every possible way."

She gasps and puts her arms around him, rolling towards him beneath the blanket.

"I'm glad you think so," she says, trembling at his mouth on her skin. "You know I think the same thing about you, don't you?"

His handsome face, yes. But his sweet, deeply caring heart. His dedication. His tenderness. The way he teases her; the way he laughs when she teases him back. "I can't get enough of you."

He sets his hands at her waist and rolls onto his back, supporting and lifting her with him until she's lying on top of him. He runs his hands over the swell of her hips, cupping each sweet curve, then gently up her back, afraid of pressing too hard on any bruise or mark.

"Have anything you want of me," he tells her, voice roughened. "I'm yours. Have all of me."

Sharon shifts along his body to kiss him again, her hair spilling around them in a cloud of dark gold.

"Okay," she says, her own breath coming fast and shallow, her pulse racing, her blood a spring river running joyously free in her veins. His hands paint every inch of skin and the nerves beneath it into life, send lightning racing through her system. "Take all of me in return. And we'll keep each other."

"Yes," he whispers, acceptance and affirmation at once, the single word filled with longing he can't articulate. "Yes, baby. Yes."

He draws his hands up her sides, caressing her, then down again and over her curves, coaxing her to part her legs, teasing her with his fingers.

She slides her knees to either sides of his hips and presses herself up on her hands to look down at him, gasping at his touch before she nudges back, teasing him. Her hair spills in a rumpled mass over her shoulders and her eyes are blown nearly black with want.

"You're so sweet," she murmurs, rocking her hips, sliding against him. "You're so sweet to me."

"How could I not be?"

He traces his fingertips over the shape of her body, from thigh to hip to side and up, then cups the weight of her breasts in his hands and circles her nipples with his thumb as he rolls his hips, slow and deliberate, pressing against her, silently promising more if she'll take it.

She smiles at him, then slides herself back, letting him sink deeply into her, giving a small gasp as she pushes herself up, her hands on his chest, and rocks her hips in a slow, circular motion. The blanket slides down off her shoulders and the cool air brushes more goosebumps against her bared skin as her nipples harden beneath his touch.

"Baby," she says, helpless, as the first waves of pleasure ripple through her. "Bucky."

She's a vision above him, glowing and golden and utterly lovely, and he'd give her the world if she just asked. "Sharon," he whispers, teasing and tweaking with his fingers as he draws back a little before rolling his hips again, sliding slowly deeper inside her with teeth-gritting control.

"Yes."

"Yes," she promises, and pushes herself to sit up, taking him deep with each slow rock of her hips as the blanket puddles around them, her cheeks flushed and her eyes fixed on his face.

He can have all of her, she'd said, and she's never meant anything so much in her life. "Yours, baby."

He arches his back, driving up into her, moving with her, as he trails his left hand down the center of her body and teases the sensitive bud at her core with his thumb, pressing and circling.

"Yours," he answers, echoing her promise with his own.

Her breath stutters as he rocks up beneath her, as his cool metal thumb sends sparks racing through her, as he promises he's hers.

"Bucky," is half whimper, half moan as her head falls back, as she pushes their rhythm faster, a touch of desperation in the rock of her hips, in her fingers as they curl against his stomach and sides.

"Yes," he tells her, keeping pace, driving deeper with each thrust, continuing to caress her with his hand. "Yes, baby. Yes."

He runs his other hand down over her hip to her thigh, then takes one of her hands and kisses her fingers, her palm.

She runs a trembling thumb over his lips as words desert her entirely. She gives herself up to the sensations he's sending through her as her legs shake and the muscles of her core clutch, all the soreness washed away by a flood of pleasure.

She delights in watching him, the way his muscles tighten under his skin as he moves beneath her, how everything he's feeling draws itself across his face and in his eyes. He's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

It's not long before she's shaking and making a small cry, before her head falls back and her eyes close, before she tightens around him, abrupt and intense, as wave after wave of pleasure buffet her.

He surges upward as she cries out, flexing his hips and sliding both arms around her to hold her close, and as he does the shift in position combined with the feel of her around him tips him over the edge. His rhythm stutters once, twice, as he drives deep into her and holds, every muscle in his body taut as he comes apart in her embrace.

She puts her arms around him, shaking like a leaf in the autumn, every muscle a confused mess of loose and relaxed and protesting violently at having been used so strenuously after the events of the last few days.

It doesn't matter. He holds her and she holds him as the aftershocks ripple through her, until she can catch her breath and lift her head to look at him, her smile sleepy and sweet.

He cradles her to him, supporting her against him, until she stirs and raises her head. The sight of her smile has his heart turning over in his chest.

Bucky kisses the tip of her nose, then smiles back at her. "Hi," he murmurs. He shifts just enough to snag the edge of the blanket, then shifts again to lie back down, drawing her with him and pulling the cover over her.

"Hi," she whispers back, and makes a small contented sound as he pulls them back down and drags the blanket over them. She kisses his chest and rests her chin on her forearm to look at him.

"You are so precious to me," she murmurs, reaching with her free hand to stroke his hair back over his ear. "I hope you know that."

"I do." His voice is just as soft as hers. "I don't know why, exactly, but I do know it. It humbles me."

"Lots of reasons."

Her smile is lazy and content and her eyes are warm. "You're sweet. And good-hearted. You're honest. You respect me. You take care of me. That smile of yours could stop traffic, and I feel like I've won the lottery every time I coax it out of you. You love to go dancing. You're a closet romantic."

She leans up to kiss him, very gently. "Believe me, I could go on."

He kisses her back, then curves his hand gently around the nape of her neck and lets it rest there as he toys with her hair.

"Of course I respect you," he says, after a moment. "Anyone who doesn't is a real idiot."

She relaxes on him, ignoring the complaints from her muscles and her aching head, surfing on a wave of dopamine.

"Well, I've known a lot of real idiots in my life."

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