deconstruct | v2 OPEN POST;

v2 OPEN POST;

NETWORK | ACTION | PROMPTS | NSFW/SFW | IT'S ALL GRAVY

[ The first thing Bucky did when he found Andyr, soaked through with blood and gore and the sickening accompanying scent of waste -- because when people are killed and ripped apart, all of what's inside of them spills out; it's never as clean as what you see in the movies -- is to unsnap the collar that has held him captive.

The second thing he did was to take him back to the ship, keeping a tight lid on his thoughts and emotions because surely, whatever he's thinking right now is nothing compared to the turmoil and the hatred, the pain and anger and fear that churns in Andyr like a brewing storm, unleashed upon the slavers who had thought they could keep him obedient. It sickens and enrages him to know that he had been at their mercy for so long -- Bucky had abandoned everything else the moment he knew Andyr was taking, committing all his time and effort into hunting the man down, narrowing the location and extracting him from the place as quickly as he could.

He doesn't know if he had been in time -- he doesn't care for the bodies that Andyr's racked up, as long as he's safe; but there's something in those glassy eyes that tells him that something's cracked anew inside of him, and with all of Bucky's heart he wants to close over it, to mend it and tell him that he's safe.

Bucky keeps his distance, cleaning up while Andyr headed to the showers. He's out sooner than the man is, giving him time to process the trauma of what's happened, sure to be there for him when he needs.

Soon enough, Andyr comes and presses up against him like a kitten seeking warmth, seeking validation and need, and he smells the soap's fragrance instead of blood, the dampness of his skin as he's stepped out of the shower. Andyr leans against him and it's open surrender, it's a yearning that he understands completely; open and vulnerable and matter-of-fact, and once more he wonders at Andyr's trust in him, the simplicity and weight of it both.

So when he guides his hand down, down to his stomach, underneath his towel, Bucky moves further, pressing close to his back and pressing his lips to his shoulder, his neck. ]

Okay. [ He murmurs quietly, softly, as the towel pools at his feet. He will claim him, and wipe away everything that the slavers had tried to stain him with. ] Okay, Andyr. You're mine, right?

[ there are very, very few times in Andyr's life that he's ever thought he needed protecting, ever wanted it, or would ever have accepted it. he'd been so 'be my own hero' since his third or fourth month in Hapsburg, and it was a philosophy he clung to like a lifeline. chanting it like a mantra to himself that he could stomach this, that he could bring himself through it, that he was strong enough for it.

but it's times like this that break him.

it's what has him nodding his head, as his body slumps against the cradle of bucky's chest, the towel slipping free with andyr not at all concerned about how bare it leaves him. ]

I'm yours. [ he murmurs, against the roughness on Bucky's jaw, those words not easy for him to say. he'd spent so, so long fighting tooth and nail, quite literally, to be able to call his body, his mind, his soul in some way his own. to at least fight for it to be his own. to never surrender it. but it's things like what happened at the slaver post that make him feel like he can't breathe to get the words past his throat. they're stuck there, choking him with the lie he knows it is. so, yes, he's bucky's, because he can't protect himself, he can't even fool himself into thinking he ever could protect himself right now. he's bucky's, until he can be his own again. ]

I trust you. [ andyr whispers, with the hand covering bucky's moving up to grip the metal of his forearm, up further to curl over the mechanical bicep. it's a symbol of the horror done to him, and it's also something that's made him so, so strong, and that's what Andyr feels safe in. like that bond of shared trauma promises something to him. there's so, so few people Andyr can let himself go into the care of, maybe only one or two besides. Bucky's now part of that list, even as small tremors quake through Andyr's hands, his shoulders, his legs. a quiet shake he can't control either. ]

And you're safe.

[ Bucky's words are a low rumble. He knows this desire for what it is -- for Andyr to melt into him, to know that he's not alone, and his words, when spoken out loud, serve to reinforce the sentiment, re-drawing the lines that had been smudged and decimated when the slavers had gotten their grubby hands on him. He lays kisses against the sharp, defined line of Andyr's jaw, the plates of his metal arm shifting under Andyr's touch, alive under his hands.

He will draw those lines again, remind Andyr again and again that he's safe to come out, that Bucky won't let that happen to him again. He knows how much it takes out of Andyr to even seek him out like this; and how, right now, he's beyond petty pride and ego.

He's Bucky's, for as long as he needs him, for as long as he wants to be sheltered and protected; they will tend to his wounds together, and he doesn't miss the way his body trembles. Bucky only holds him tighter, possessive and firm, before he gently guides him to the bed -- he will wipe off every filthy word, every minute of every day that Andyr had been forced to stay captive, and his soft murmured words of comfort are a binding promise to mitigate the horrors he has been subjected to. ]

You're all mine, and I'll take care of you. [ His words are soft against his ear, quiet and soothing, gently easing Andyr down with him to the bed that they share together. His Andyr is fully naked now, but it doesn't matter -- Bucky is his shield, and he will keep him away from the rest of the world. ] You've been very brave, but let me take care of you now.

[ Andyr spends his life refusing to relax, stop fighting and just heal. most days, taking a break from that relentlessness of his personality feels uncomfortable, like there's something he's neglecting, something he should be doing, but here, when he's been broken down to the base of him, feels like a scared, seventeen year old boy locked away in a cell with no mother, no father and no sister - no one coming to get him - it's as if it's his only relief. he's only fortunate, this time, to have bucky here, and to foster the kind of trust for this man that allows him to put himself in his hands and let go.

soft kisses against his jaw, arms circling his body and careful words at his ear, it's more gentle than likely anyone outside this room would believe bucky barnes could still be, and it's everything Andyr needs to sink into right now. a quiet sigh, like a exhale that breathes out the last of his holds on himself, deflate him some, and andyr goes where he's led, letting bucky's words wash over him, and willing himself to put absolute faith into those small promises. ]

Okay. [ a whispered murmur, almost trance-like, as his body eases down to the mattress that gives comfortably under his weight, feeling the dip when Bucky crawls in along with him, and Andyr doesn't seem to want to take his hands off him. always touching at some point, be it a hand on his arm, gripping a wrist, or both arms looped over his shoulders, when they settle, gravitating towards him like his body alone is a safe haven. as if he could crawl in and nestle somewhere between his ribs, and stay, warm and hidden and protected, close to everything else vital to bucky. ]

You came for me. [ the words are murmured against bucky's neck, near the hollow of his throat, as andyr's hands pull at his clothes carefully. he'd been too lost in his head to say it earlier, but he'd realized it then. bucky's the only one who's ever come for him. when the Houses took him, he had no family left, no father who would commit his every waking moment to getting his son back, and the people of his neighborhood, no matter how much they may have been fond of him or appreciated him, would all step back when the line of Hapsburg soldiers appeared. it had been a whispered chant in the back of his mind the entire six and a half years he was sealed in that cell, or strapped to the operation tables, only growing louder when the screams started - no one's coming for you, no one's missing you, because no one cares.

but bucky had. ]

You came for me. [ Andyr rasps again, this time touched with emotion, hoarse with his throat constricting, an ache that comes with that familiar surge of tears wanting to push out from him, and he closes his eyes tight, seeking out bucky's lips, kissing him with all of that stunned gratitude and need pressed into it, gasping when his lips part, fingers in bucky's hair pulling at him. needing so much more of him. ]

I'll always come for you, Andyr. Always.

[ Bucky's words hold a quiet vehemence, a powerful promise he whispers against his mouth when he kisses him over and over, bearing him down onto the mattress. His Andyr carries scars no one else should carry; a burden that is terrible and heart-wrenching all at once. He can hear the plaintiveness in his voice, the desperation and the gratitude he laps up and absorbs with a frightening intensity, an eagerness to comfort and to ease all his pain away.

His hands roam Andyr's body, tracking over every inch of skin and marking him, fingers digging into flesh lightly here and there, leaving light bruises that will heal within hours. Bucky's nudging Andyr's legs open because he knows what he needs, when he's here like this and he needs to get out of his head.

Even so, he's in no hurry. He's hitching Andyr's legs around his waist as his mouth finds his, heated and wanting, trailing down to his throat while his free hand comes to wrap around his dick, warm metal wrapped around his heated skin. Bucky makes a soft noise as he finds his way to his mouth again, his dark eyes glittering. ]

I don't care if I have to move the world to find you, Andyr. I always will.

[ Because he will be the one who saves him when no one else is brave enough to step forward; and he would commit every waking moment to keeping him safe and by his side, cleansed from his trauma at the slavers. Bucky can't feel entirely sorry for them, really -- they've had it coming for thinking that they could leash a tiger before Andyr leaped for their throats.

His hand other hand comes to curl around Andyr's throat, gently resting there as he nudges his head up for another deep, hot and searing kiss. ] You belong to me, and I'm going to make sure no one hurts you again.

[ there's hardly even a sting for the pressure that's hard enough to invite bruises to color his skin, blue and purple, for all his body has evolved, has adapted to what he'd been put through, for what his genetic nature tried to do from the inside to protect him. his pain tolerance is absurd, at this point, but he knows the press of bucky's fingers and the curl of his hands against his skin, and he knows there's enough force in it to mark him. it might look odd to be sighing softly, like relief, at the aspect of visible injury, when the same gesture from anyone else would have him insulted and enraged. with bucky, it just feels like becoming human again.

all it takes is the careful nudge to his knees, and Andyr's thighs part to let bucky settled between them, hips cradled against the backs of his legs as they wrap over his waist, twisting around bucky's body and pulling himself as close as he can to his warmth and security. to the streaming words of assurance, protection and such gentle nurturing Andyr hasn't known in what feels like a lifetime. he breathes out with murmured words, nodding his head. ] I believe you, Bucky.

[ of all the people on the ship who've told him about how they'd come help him fight his war back home, or how they'd want to save him from something like that, right now, Bucky's the only one he truly believes.

too strong emotion, like a fever rising in him, swells, making his chest feel tight, and with Bucky reaching between them to take him in hand and stroke arousal along his cock, it's a very personal kind of intimacy they don't typically have. andyr bare in every sense of the word, and bucky all strong muscle and sturdy support, still dressed from after his shower, entirely in control of this. a shaky inhale goes through him, throat hitching under Bucky's hand, and leaves him slowly, with a faint moan, as his hips push up into the metal circling his dick, pumping sweetly. ]

I'm sorry. [ it just tumbles out, in the freefall of all that's he's letting go, and andyr shakes his head a bit, eyes closed, with a crease between his brows, not even sure what he's apologizing for. for being a mess? certainly not for the bloodbath he'd left behind. for not saving himself? for what compromise of his dignity he'd made in order to wait for the moment he needed to safely snap back, rather than just his proud, no exceptions refusal and defiance he'd always carried before. not that bucky had been there for that, not that he's in his head now to know, but there's still that shame in him, as if he knows, as if the entire ship does.

andyr mutters it again, i'm sorry, but pushes to press his face into the curve of bucky's shoulder and neck, as if that could block out the entire reality of it. his legs around bucky's hips squeeze and pull at him, arching up for more of him, as his hands pick at the closures of his top, and the fly of his pants shortly after, wanting to get to his skin - his stomach, his chests, his hips, anything so long as it's him. ]

Don't be sorry. [ He says quietly, firmly, taken by the way Andyr yields to him. He calms that frantic, fluttering nature with infinite patience and a tenderness that he guards from everyone else. This is meant for Andyr, a precious, rare thing saved for him; and he grinds against Andyr's naked length, feeling the smaller man rise up against him with a desire that he intends to fulfill.

Tonight, everything revolves around Andyr, everything is about him -- and he only moves away to let Andyr shuck his shirt off, rolling his shoulders gracefully before moving back to crush his mouth against his. ]

Never be sorry. [ He's insistent, his hand pulling away from Andyr's throat as he continues to stroke his cock. Bucky's devotion is silent but evident, his attention centered completely on his needs.

Feeling Andyr thrust into his hand is a sensuous, erotic thing, and he murmurs against his mouth, feeling that naked cock rub up against his jeans. He has the control here, but he uses it for Andyr's sake, keeps him safe and drives the nightmares away.

He reaches for the lubricant by the bedside and offers it to him. ] I'm going to take care of you, Andyr. Tell me what you want. Let me make you feel good.

[ the moment bucky's shirt is off and tossed away, andyr's arms reach up, wrapping over broad shoulders, and around his side, pulling his face to bucky's chest, burrowing against the side of his neck and hiding himself there, against the strength of the man's torso. bucky's always so solid, and nothing feels safer to him than this - being curled against that sturdiness, feeling bucky's weight press down against him and his arms frame his body.

bucky makes him sweet promises, to take care of him, to always find him, to protect him, and puts all the faith he has into him, holding tight and letting the rest of his will crumble for the moment. he's tired of standing on his own, picking him back up every time he's knocked down. bucky's willing and able, and treating his body like something holy right now, andyr's back bow up against him, as his head falls back, and his eyes close. a bottle is pressed into his hand, and andyr doesn't need to look down to know what it is. yes, this is what he needs, exactly this. something good, something kind, something that makes him feel like more than a pile of bones and pretty skin. ]

I want you inside me. [ he's telling him, against bucky's shoulder, as he pops the bottle open, and seeks out bucky's hand. loathe to end the sensation as he is, he's tugging at the one stroke him, pulling him off with a quiet sigh, enough to slick the lubricant along his fingers, and direct him back down. his thighs spread further, hips tilting up, and andyr pulls bucky's hand to slip between his cheeks and press inside him.

he won't take much stretching - they've been doing this a lot lately, and he wants bucky's cock pushing up into him, filling him up and retaking him, as soon as he can. fingers ply at the closures of his pants against, pulling them open and pushing the fabric off his hips, enough that he can coat bucky's dick, make the eventual slide smooth and slick and easy and perfect. ] Slow, I wanna feel it.

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