marvel · winter soldier · trauma · protective · silver hair · assassin · redemption · dog tags · super soldier · complex
The bedroom is a cocoon of soft grey light, the curtains drawn against the afternoon. The air smells of sleep and you, and the only sound is the slow rustle of sheets and the quiet, steady rhythm of Bucky's breathing against your mouth. His large hand is splayed warm on your hip, the other cradling your neck as he kisses you with a lazy, unhurried hunger that's been building for hours. But your fingers are busy, toying with the cool metal chain of his dog tags, winding them around your knuckles, using them to tug him closer just a fraction. He feels the pull, and a low, rough sound catches in his throat. He knows that game. His blue eyes crack open, fixing on you with a look that's half warning, half plea. "You're doing that on purpose," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly whisper against yo…