[There's something amazingly warm about just lingering like this, about the quiet lassitude that follows orgasm, and about sharing it together. Bucky's walls are down — not that they've been up particularly high around Steve anyway, but still — and his smile is full of fond affection as they exchange soft touches and quiet looks. He thinks he could get very used to this and that's quite the thought to have, period.

His eyes flicker down and a little color rises in his cheeks as Steve's fingertips linger against the bruise he'd left, the mark that Bucky knows will have mostly faded by morning. His own hand raises, covering Steve's, pressing his touch more against skin.]

You have no idea.

[It's probably going to be something he'll have to explain, or try to at least. But not right now; right now is for trading lazy kisses back and forth, for pressing even closer to Steve so they can tangle together even more than they already are. It's for running his hand through Steve's hair, down to the nape of his neck, down his back to trace the bumps of his spine. He's so damn comfortable that it wouldn't matter if the entire world blew up; nothing is going to tear him away from Steve's side.]

I like a lot of things. [He smirks a little bit, leans in for another kiss, this one a quick peck on Steve's lips.] Probably more than we can fit in one night... we're just going to have to keep doing this again and again.