If his heart could break again, just like it had in their shared dorm eight years ago, it might. The shards could turn to glittering dust to dissolve in the wind. Steve hasn't stopped loving this man, hasn't stopped yearning for this man, even though he's never said as much out loud. To have him here like this, the steamy spray of the shower against his shoulders and Zemo's lips nipping at his own? It feels like a dream.
The heels dig into his hips, coupled with the sting of teeth and the keen that slips between those pretty lips, and Steve begins to move, one hand keeping Zemo supported as he draws out, painfully slow, and back in, setting a slow, diligent pace despite the burning need he feels deep in his gut. But each time his hips slide flush, burying himself to the hilt and back. ]
Lúbim—
[ He shouldn't. Not after the time that has spanned the distance between them, even though all of that is lost in the steady pump of his hips and the way he pants against Zemo's throat, lips peppering kisses, tongue lapping at the soft curve of his jaw until he finally finds his lips again.
Strangle out the desperate need to tell him just what he feels, just how deeply he misses him, and just how complete he feels like this. His free hand slides up into Zemo's hair, tugging it back to bare his throat so his mouth can fixate on the gentle rise of his adam's apple. The hand drops back down, fingers sliding to his ass, hands braced on either side to hold him up all while the rhythm of his hips begins to quicken. ]
You're so— shit.
[ Spoken against his skin, desperate and hot. Eight years since he could love and be loved like this, eight years of yearning all flooding out now in the damp air between them. His mouth drags its way back to meet Zemo's, panting and wanting, before he speaks: ]
You're beautiful.
[ The next thrust drives hard, the sound of wet skin slapping amid the trickle of water, body suddenly remembering the angles, the touches, the way Zemo so liked it back when they were younger, hopeful things. ]
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If his heart could break again, just like it had in their shared dorm eight years ago, it might. The shards could turn to glittering dust to dissolve in the wind. Steve hasn't stopped loving this man, hasn't stopped yearning for this man, even though he's never said as much out loud. To have him here like this, the steamy spray of the shower against his shoulders and Zemo's lips nipping at his own? It feels like a dream.
The heels dig into his hips, coupled with the sting of teeth and the keen that slips between those pretty lips, and Steve begins to move, one hand keeping Zemo supported as he draws out, painfully slow, and back in, setting a slow, diligent pace despite the burning need he feels deep in his gut. But each time his hips slide flush, burying himself to the hilt and back. ]
Lúbim—
[ He shouldn't. Not after the time that has spanned the distance between them, even though all of that is lost in the steady pump of his hips and the way he pants against Zemo's throat, lips peppering kisses, tongue lapping at the soft curve of his jaw until he finally finds his lips again.
Strangle out the desperate need to tell him just what he feels, just how deeply he misses him, and just how complete he feels like this. His free hand slides up into Zemo's hair, tugging it back to bare his throat so his mouth can fixate on the gentle rise of his adam's apple. The hand drops back down, fingers sliding to his ass, hands braced on either side to hold him up all while the rhythm of his hips begins to quicken. ]
You're so— shit.
[ Spoken against his skin, desperate and hot. Eight years since he could love and be loved like this, eight years of yearning all flooding out now in the damp air between them. His mouth drags its way back to meet Zemo's, panting and wanting, before he speaks: ]
You're beautiful.
[ The next thrust drives hard, the sound of wet skin slapping amid the trickle of water, body suddenly remembering the angles, the touches, the way Zemo so liked it back when they were younger, hopeful things. ]