Duplicity IC Inbox [ un: jbenjamin ]

[cicatrize]

you've reached jack benjamin. clearly, I have better things to do.

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[cicatrize]

[ it feels as if they're in their own little bubble here, bucky's voice so soft, but easy for jack to hear, to feel with the vibration in his throat and chest, where his hand explores, pausing to lay flat at the center of his chest, over his sternum, and feel his voice. it's peaceful, all other sounds in the room seeming far away, and inconsequential. ]

Most people have to work to find those spots on their— [ whatever the hell we are ] partners.

[ sure, that works. he is a partner for bucky in a certain activity, even if that still feels to personal of a title to claim. bucky's fingers bump against the waistband of the soft joggers he'd been lounging in, and something sweet and warm flutters over him, like his senses are waking up and he remembers the rest of his body exists again. especially as bucky goes tracing around over the ledge of fabric, up over jack's hipbone, crossing over the too sensitive, vulnerably soft skin too low to be called abdomen and too high to be pelvis. if the touch at his back woke his senses up, this one sets them all alight, and jack's breathing hitching for a second, trying to contain the shiver that wants to trickle up his spine.

jack swallows, adam's apple bobbing, and he lifts his eyes from where they'd been watching his own hand exploring bucky's chest, to meet his eyes again, only a handful of inches away, but far enough he can read his expression. ]

Want them off?

[ jack mumbles, soft and quiet, barely there. it's an honest question. the conversation they'd just had was heavy, and wearing, and what they're doing now is simple and soothing. he doesn't want to complicate it with anything bucky doesn't want to worry about. ]

[freightcars]

[ Partners, he says, and Bucky turns the word over in his head. Flits away from too-closely examining the implication, the connotations branching off in a dozen directions. How long they've known each other, what they are to one another, what they should be, the strangeness of this whole affair. He could get hung up on the details, or he could do what he's been doing with every other complicated issue of late — sift it to the back of his mind, tuck it away, excuse it and simply ignore it.

Focus on here and now. He likes that plan better, especially when the here and now includes the way Jack's throat sticks a little when he swallows. The way he shivers beneath Bucky's hand. He's always been an attentive "partner", curious and studious and avid. A lot of things have changed, but not that.

His lips quirk up a little when he nods. ]

Lose 'em.

[ Plenty of ground left to cover. He plucks at Jack's fly briefly before withdrawing his hand, making room for Jack to shimmy out of them himself. ]

[cicatrize]

[ it's sweet, watching the little quirk at bucky's lips, and as he tugs at jack's fly, jack touches a couple fingertips to the corner of his lips. bucky's smile's so much easier that jack's, even with everything going on inside him. jack rarely manages to get out a genuine one maybe once a week, at most, maybe more frequent in duplicity, all the rest feeling so plastic. so, maybe that has nothing to do with pain, and more the person jack is, whatever the hell that's supposed to be these days.

he shimmies the fabric down his hips, having to raise up some to get them down, but once they're past his knees, he can just use his feet to kick them off the rest of the way, letting them fall to the floor somewhere over there. no socks or anything, so jack's bare as the day he was born, settling back into place across from bucky, eyes level and watching his face. his fingers touch light along barnes' jaw, and the scruff there that leaves him looking so different from jack and tj. he touches along his twin's face, like he had during tumenalia, fingers light and careful, as he lets bucky explore wherever he wants. jack's cock is perhaps partly hard, but it usually takes more than a light touch at his stomach for anything more than that.

there aren't a whole lot of extra markings on jack that bucky wouldn't know about. some light, light scars that may have been deep scratches, or knives. a couple nicks from bullets zipped just slightly too close on the front, the only one that seems like he might've caught the actual bullet rather than a side of it is in the muscle of his left thigh. ultimately didn't mean much, didn't hit anything important. ]

Yours?

[ asked mildly and distracted. if bucky only wants jack naked and not himself, he'll be perfectly content with that. it's been a long while since jack's felt nervous or awkward with his body bared. there's a certain detachment from it he's had since he was a teenager, when sex started to become a thing, when he started to look more hot than cute, and he started to learn how to use it. he's getting more out of this from bucky's attention alone than reactions from his body. ]

[freightcars]

[ Stranger perhaps then what they are to each other is what they're doing now, on the cusp of such dark subject matter and sprawled out too contentedly to be outright sexual. It's some in-between place, some limbo of intimacy and casualness, it's light and teasing and searching. It's mindfulness, without a doubt, it's the very definition of the word. The absolute essence, and it's therapeutic in a way that doesn't solve the bigger issues but does ground him enough to push past them.

Distraction isn't the right word for what Bucky feels like this is, he isn't using Jack as a means to an end, not like a crutch but rather like an anchor — or perhaps like the red string tied around the place you call home so that you can follow your line back go where you began and not get lost in the woods along the way.

Jack's pants go, and for a moment Bucky ignores the question to instead focus on tracing the line of his silhouette, not hourglass like a woman's but still a subtle dip and rise from stomach to hips, long lean lines of sparsely haired masculinity, one continuous flank of muscle disturbed only by rare ridges of scar tissue. He used to look like this once, and what a curious thought that is. This is what all those women saw all those nights in bed, sprawled over the sheets in sticky summer nights.

Not a bad look, he's gotta admit.

He takes his hand away long enough to shift his own bottoms down, boxer briefs and trousers all in one, discarded as easily as Jack's had been. Soon enough they're both bare, not half hard but perhaps nearly, in close enough quarters on the couch that their legs still touch and in all the places they don't he can still feel the radiating heat of skin.

Searching fingers move back again toward Jack's spine, then dip down along the curve of a glute to find where ass meets thigh, a place so ticklish on himself that his first instinct is to barely suppress a reflex-punch. It's a test, a little research, just to see if that's a him thing or a them thing. ]

[cicatrize]

[ nothing about this really feels any kind of normal, or expected, and jack's not sure what kind of realm it fits into. things that sexually involved people do? things that people who like each other do? things that bizarre, mentally fucked clones do? finding a neat and clean section to file whatever it is their doing into seems like much less the important task here. more so, it's following the line from just under bucky's ear, down the side of his neck, over the muscle that bridges that to his collar bone and the bump that marks the start of his shoulder.

funny, how in some places, your skeleton will always stick out, no matter how much muscle you put on or how well you build your body. these little delicate, exposed places. the shoulder there, the collar bone, the bottom of a rib cage, and jack sweeps his palm lower, over his chest to run his thumb along where the bottom edge of bucky's rib cage splits from his torso, tracing it outward, but not quiet onto his side, where he knows he'll spasm from that ticklish spot. bucky's bones are probably much harder to break, but like this, they still seem just as delicate.

it's all just quiet touching and exploring, like they could be sitting around putting puzzle pieces together and have about the same atmosphere, though perhaps not so personal, maybe. jack's never really done this with anyone else's body. mapped it, like he's doing bucky's, stroking a flat palm down along his side, over his hip, down to his thigh, and back up. he can't decide if it relaxes him or makes him unease that he can see his own body in features and traits of Bucky's, at the core base of it.

his mind is lost somewhere in that when the touch that'd been running down his spine (nothing new, though it is one of the more pleasant, soothing touches bucky gives him) dips down past where it stopped before, hits the top of his ass, and jack's hand pauses, eyes flickering up to bucky's face, and there's hardly any time to preemptively tense much after that, because bucky's fingers sweep right along the curve of his ass, and land just beneath.

it's a them thing.

thankfully, jack doesn't reflex-punch him, just jolts a measure harder than he had with the spot on his side. immediately, a sheepish smile flashes, and a barely there, breathed out laugh, as he tucks his hips forward and away from that hand. freaking rude, barnes. ]

[freightcars]

[ A grin breaks out swiftly and unfiltered, wide with teeth and pleasure at the reaction. Christ, it feels like vindication to subject someone else to that god damn sensation, and may nobody else ever find out it exists please. It's like blackmail now, he thinks, a secret they both can keep about each other and maybe form a silent pact that Steve never need to know about it. God help the both of them if word gets out, they'll never again sleep soundly with that kryptonite floating around.

But now isn't a torture session, and while the temptation floats through him as it would anyone, he doesn't press it farther. No, he sweeps his hand back up the curve of Jack's ass, wraps momentarily around the small of his back just to tug him closer until they're flush at the waist and the hips. Hip bones touch and they're identical enough in height that everything slots together like yin and yang. Thigh settles against thigh, knees thread between knees like zipper teeth, cocks press softly alongside one another, ankles curl around calves.

He has no reason, no motive, no divine plan. He's operating on instinct and impulsiveness, acting on whatever notion seems like a good idea at the time. If the mind's awareness is a camera lens, his pans from bottom half back up to top, coasting over the landscape of Jack's body, the peaks and valleys of his hips and ribs like mountains that ease off into the planes of his chest. The hills of his shoulders, the curve of his jaw, settling finally on the slope of his lips.

Sheepish.

It's a good look, and it's impulsiveness still that drives him to shift forward and kiss at it, to taste the expression beneath his own. ]

[cicatrize]

[ the other problem with bucky touching that spot on him: it was his ass, and unlike bucky, jack does sometimes enjoy being fucked rather than doing the fucking. being this naked and putting his fingers that close to where they might otherwise be if this were started as a sexual endeavor does pulse a shock of warm, pooling arousal through him, heat building between his legs as his cock thickens up a little more, around half hard by the time bucky tugs them flush.

jack exhales in a sigh as they slot together, like slipping into a steaming bath, the cool air of the apartment gets pressed out from between them, legs tangled all down their bodies, hips snug together, and there's something both intimate and reassuringly present in feeling the shift of bucky's muscles against him, like the pull of a heel at the back of his ankle, or the insistent pressure of his cock pressed up next to his.

as bucky had gone panning a mental camera up along his torso, jack's in the same impulsive, dizzy spell, running his hand over the firm slopes of muscle on the arm wrapped around his back, stopping over his bicep to squeeze his fingers hard over it, like testing the solidity of the structure. there's so much raw strength to this man, inside and out, and jack's becoming dangerously fond of finding himself settled against him like this.

bucky's lips are met like it was the next natural course of action, and jack's unhurried in kissing him, the same languid, exploring tone to this as they've had for this entire thing, after the heavy talking filtered away, and they started peeling back layers. it's simple, and it's easy, and there's no set end or goal here. jack's consciousness feels tied to his body, and this is one of those rare, blissful moments where that's something he's neither resentful of or indifferent to. it's nice, feeling human sometimes.

chest leaned in against bucky's, jack's covers the last of the distance to make a continuous, joined line of their bodies, jack's arm around bucky's back, fingers curled over the wide span of his shoulders. his lips slide smooth and aimless against bucky's, each kiss just wanting to map more of how the man feels against him, and lights dance behind jack's eyes as he savors the sensation of it. those lips part, inviting this kiss deeper, and as he slips his tongue against his, jack pulls an inhale in, the scent of bucky everywhere around him, taste on his tongue, voice so close, rise and fall of his chest against his and swelling of his cock trapped warm between them. this is decidedly better than the soap he was going to watch. ]

[freightcars]

[ It's the response from his partner more than anything that gets Bucky reacting physically to match. It's the way his own cock had been nestled so close, pressed together in the warmth between their thighs, he can feel Jack's attention beginning to blossom and it surges a warmth through him. It might be a first, actually, the very first time he's had the privilege of this sensation and been on this side of it. It's sparking and erotic, and somehow it gets him harder than Jack in just over a second. With it comes the unfurling of hormones, the rushing of sweet sensation and lust that pulls a sharp exhale from his lips.

Jack's touches are consistent, constant, firm, stroking, exploratory. Where they'd been gentle and innocent, Barnes now feels echoing touches like dust where his fingers leave, a tingling energy that stays behind even as he moves on to other places. Electric, exciting, like the context has shifted. Jack kisses him, and Barnes snakes his free arm beneath the hip of Jack's pressing down on the couch. Does it so that he can snake both hands around the small of Jack's back, and when he finds Jack's ass again it is not to tease or tickle, but to rather firmly grip him by the curve of his ass and pointedly pull his hips into Bucky's, rocking him slowly and deliberately into the pressure of his erection.

It's still sweet, still slow, still unhurried and deliberate, but it's pointed now. He teases Jack's tongue with his own, allows their kiss to carry on, all the while rocking hips in time with the ebb and flow of their mouths. He didn't come here for this, he didn't come here for sex, but it feels like such a natural progression that it's building a sort of visceral need in him deep in his chest, at his core. ]

[cicatrize]

[ it's impossible not to notice the moment when bucky's mind shifts, the tone of this whole thing tilts, and it's a gradual path as all of this has been, one moment led naturally into the next, this with bucky's cock flushing hard between them, something going through the man's head having pushed him right over that edge fast.

for jack, all it takes to find that same surge of erotic warmth causing his dick to leap, throbbing into full thickness, is bucky's hands gripping at his ass. the same way he'd dragged him close into his lap on the couch in the lobby, and it's only so much better with bare skin (and metal) on bare skin. a shudder shoots up jack's spine as their hips roll together, each sensitive nerve on the underside of his dick dragged slow and sweet against bucky's skin, his own length sliding right alongside.

jack's jaw drops for a tender moment, lost in euphoric sensation, dizzy from the intimacy here, from bucky so close he feels like they're sharing bodies a little, the heady rush of heat down his body, pooling between his legs. hips rolling to match the slow, slow rhythm of bucky's, jack's pushing back into the hands on his ass as well, a constant source spiking arousal making his body feel light, but hyper-aware of every touch. jack drags his teeth against bucky's lip, not terribly hard, but enough to show that his interest is mounting, desire stoking a smoldering fire in his chest.

he'd been stroking his hand on bucky's back along his spine, or between his shoulder blades, but as this progresses further into physical need, his touch migrates to bucky's hip, something about feeling the muscle under his skin flexing as he grinds against him just so fucking attractive. ]

[freightcars]

[ Slow, slow. They move at the pace of molasses, as sticky sweet and viscous as syrup in winter, the lazy drawl of their hips stoking a fire he can feel in his breath when he exhales. Jack's teeth nip, and Bucky can feel it in nerves throughout his body that seem unconnected but jump anyway. Sparks at his chest, in his thighs, through his cock, tracing back to that point on his lip.

With a sharp noise, a rusty inhale, he shifts, rolling them until Jack is on his back and Bucky is above him, bracketing him with arms and hair like a curtain. He takes his place between Jack's legs, ankles sliding to push Jack's farther apart so they slot together perfectly, chest to knee, stomachs rubbing against cocks, deliberate and careful rhythm never faltering even from this new position.

Here, he can dip in and rough his cheek against Jack's, nudging jaw against jaw like a cat, nosing along the sharp cut of his cheekbone. ]

[cicatrize]

[ the cascade of bucky's hair is an element that speaks so definitively of the man that jack's touch naturally pulls towards burying fingers in the strands, the same way he unconsciously drifts tactile attention towards his metal arm anytime they're near. it's these idle habits jack's allowed to develop, the same way he's, as of yet, made no effort to protect himself from the shockingly intense influence bucky holds over him. now and again, the fear that he'll regret that burrows through jack's mind, and because it would be too deep a betrayal to bear, and because he's too, too enthralled in the feelings of care and security he gets from him, jack pushes those into the back of his mind.

now, he's all sharp inhales and legs spreading to invite bucky's body to sink closer against his, skin alight, sparking, all down his body at every point they touch. bright paths of sensation sear up, electric, through the network of synapses, and jack's fingers curl in bucky's hair, another set of dull nails carving against the skin over bucky's hip, grasping harder with each roll of his hips down against his drawn out murmured sounds of pleasure in the back of his throat. with his eyes closed, it feels like a dream, jack brushing pressure back against bucky's cheek, the rough scratch of bucky's stubble another sweet reminder of his affection for the man.

though bucky doesn't have a hand on his cock, and jack doesn't have bucky's between his lips, though jack isn't sobbing into his chest, this feels so much more personal, so much more intimate, than they've been before, and jack feels his body quake against him with it. he cards the wild, loose strands of bucky's hair back from the side of his face jack's taken to memorizing the feel of against his own, and his lips trace along the shell of bucky's ear as a moan drags low and throaty from him. his hips jerk up, cock leaking as it twitches against bucky's hip, the slick of it easing the grind between them. it's slow and it's languid and it's perfect. jack kisses a trail from bucky's ear down over his neck to the slope that leads to his shoulder, and his arm curls around bucky's back, hugging him tight and close, a silent plead to keep him close and tight and just like this. ]

[freightcars]

[ It's a different sort of intimacy. It isn't Tumenalia, it isn't the bed at the start of whatever they've become. Though it began with a rough conversation, there is no sadness or darkness here. It's like the baggage this time has been checked at the door leaving only the two of them behind, the two of them at their best, at their least damaged. For once, just the two people that they are, alone with each other, riding waves between them on Jack's couch, swathed in television light and quietness.

Here there are lovers, here there are friends, and no intrusive thoughts are strong enough to break through that right now.

Jack cards hands through his hair, Jack teases his scalp with fingernails that scratch and send phantom fingers of sensation down his spine, trickling through his shoulders, through the muscles in his back, rippling from a cascading simple touch. Jack's moan is a beautiful sound, and Bucky's his grind down into it, deeper, harder, more. Pressure, friction, the rolling heat of bodies, the leaking of precum leaving things sticky and wet.

A metal hand slinks down, slides down, slips beneath Jack's thigh and palms his ass again, kneading the muscle as they go. Otherwise, he complies to the request made by arms around his back. Stays tight, stays close, stays hovering so deep in Jack's personal space it may not even exist anymore. ]

Good.

[ He murmurs, throaty, dry, approval mouthed into the place where jaw meets ear, fucking hips pointedly down. Good, Jack is doing so good, this is good. God, he loves it, actually. ]

[cicatrize]

[ for the moment, all of their demons whither away, and the two of them are left stripped bare, down to their unguarded cores. jack without the constant ache and tension of his wasted life and twisted upbringing, the constant push and pull inside of his head, and bucky without the all consuming grief and guilt and trauma sunken so deep beneath his skin that it's melded to his bones. they're simply human, and for one that's a science experiment, and another that'd been raised as if divine, it's a blessed reprieve.

bucky's hand gropes at jack's bare ass and the motion drags them tighter together, jack able to feel every pulse of blood surging to flush bucky's dick rock hard as he fucks against jack's skin, feeling the friction of his cock firm and hot and wet pressed up flush to his.

pleasure like thrumming bass echos all through jack's body, loud enough it seems to rattle his bones, and he's shaking under him. his breathing stutters and jack has to drop his head back to gasp for air, lungs expanding even while his back arches up, pushing against the solid, immovable weight of bucky on top of him. it all feels so fluid and slow, as if he takes a pause at every neural intersection of the action. ]

Mh. [ all he's able to part with at first is a sound, vague agreement, as jack's too dizzy with every touch and every shift resonating through his body. nails scrape down bucky's back, from the base of his neck, down his spine, over his hip as far as he can reach down his thigh, before traveling back up. he wishes he could be touching every inch of him, and his knees bend, thighs spreading out wider to let bucky sink deeper against him, only to hug them against hips, but with his feet flat against the couch cushions, jack has the leverage to thrust up into each of grind of bucky's hips down, then back into the hand kneading at his ass, muscle working under bucky's fingers. ]

God, Bucky. [ it comes in a whimpered keen, jack coming undone beneath him, no panicked effort made to conceal it, no fight for control, no crisis of self-consciousness. just jack, blissed out of his mind, fingers tangled in bucky's hair as he drags him into another kiss, just to feel more of him, to have him fill up every sense he has. ]