31. salty skin

                                    

                                          
October 6th - 2 am
Something stirred in front of her, at first it was just inconsistent movement, then sounds. Strained sounds, incoherent mumbling that just got louder and louder. Before she had even fully gained consciousness, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her forward. Her eyes snapped open in response, it was too dark to see anything specifically but she didn't need vision to know she was now fully pressed against Bucky's front. She took a deep breath in and found herself breathing in his smell, strong and musky. 
Her eyes searched for any sign that showed he was awake and in control of what he had just done, but everything pointed to the opposite conclusion. He was asleep. 
His arm was fully stretched around her waist, his hand entangled in her hair, his breaths were deep and slow. She hadn't been this close to him since that night in Madrid, when her self-destructive tendencies and desperate fear of losing him had taken over. He was so warm she could feel the heat sinking into her bones through clothes, skin, flesh and all. Her face barely reached his sternum, her whole chest was pressed against his, the muffled sound of his heart thrummed steadily next to her cheek. She blushed slightly in the dark. 
Drawn in by his warmth, she snuggled closer, one hand hugging his waist, the feeling of his scorching skin leaving her almost breathless. Her other hand was stuck between their bodies, her palm resting over his pec. Her heart started speeding up, now fully awake. It felt almost wrong to be so close to him knowing he wasn't fully conscious of what he was doing, but he looked relaxed and in peace with this position, so who was she to disrupt the rare and long sought after comfort of his sleep? 
She tried to calm her heart rate taking a few deep breaths, but all it did was envelop her even more in his scent, which was alluring to say the least. She needed to fall back asleep but this giant of a man, hot as a furnace, pressed against her was igniting every inch of her being, doing in fact the opposite of calming her. 
She cursed herself for wearing only a pair of shorts and tank top, perfect to sleep in the heat, but definitely too thin not to burst in contact with the heat of him.
Her ragged breathing pattern must have disrupted his because he started stirring in front of her, his breathing and heartbeat getting erratic. Natalie hissed a 'shit' under her breath, realising she was probably agitating him with how anxious she was. Instinctively she pressed her hand on the base of his neck and started kneading the tight muscles there. Her other hand slowly moved across his skin and spread up over his hip and across his back, massaging the sturdy lines of his muscles, hoping to lull him back to rest. He stirred slightly and let out a slow deep hum, his head instinctively leaned down toward her face and nuzzled the top of her head. 
Luckily she knew that when it came to Bucky, touch was something he welcomed, enjoyed even, something that made him relax. Her closeness and gentle touches had allowed him to fall asleep many times, when sleep hadn't been a matter of safety, so considering how much he needed to sleep now, the least she could do was help him through the process. And yes, maybe she was also driven by a bit of temptation and desire to just touch him, but who could blame her. 
She brushed her hand gently over his back a few times, until his breathing was steady again. She realised her heart had also slowed down, following his, the feeling of his skin against her hands soothing her own restlessness. 
It was so smooth, perfect in every ridge, every curve. 
So much had happened between them and as confusing and frustrating as it was, she still couldn't help but feel that pull. That invisible force between them that just pushed her close to him. She still struggled to understand him, to forgive him, but almost losing him, and being able to talk to him again, it just stirred something in her that she had forgotten. Or maybe not forgotten, but suppressed. Her feelings for him had changed, she saw him as someone different now, but slowly those two versions of him were starting to collide and form a whole new person. Was this new person someone she could trust? Now in the quiet of the night her answer would be yes. It didn't erase all the pain and confusion and fear she now had towards who he was and what he did, but maybe he was right: maybe to the core he was the same person she had met in New York, only now she could see all the cuts and bruises, the sins and the scars. Seeing how he chose to talk to her, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes when he'd confessed he needed help, that was the Bucky she knew. He knew she was attracted to him, he knew although her strong feelings had changed for the worse, she still wanted him physically. And yet he didn't take advantage of that, not once. He respected the distance she put between them and accepted the hate she developed for him as something he deserved. And the fact that he cared so much about not wanting to confuse her even further, like sleeping in the same bed, it showed to what lengths he'd protect her, even if it was to his loss, even if it meant harming himself in the process.