There was so much of Bucky to touch and want, almost more than Steve could take; he hardly knew how to handle this intimacy without losing himself. There was a part of him that felt a need to always be alert to his surroundings, to be aware that their time here was limited before they would have to leave in search of better shelter, but Steve felt as though he could lose hours with Bucky now, just touching and exploring and taking in one another, and not care. "We're safe," he murmured, even though he didn't know that as fact; it was just something he felt bone-deep, that he'd never been safer in his life than he was now with Bucky, his bonded. "We're safe with each other."

He kissed him, so soft and deep it made him ache all over, and pushed his erection against Bucky's hip, fingers sliding up over his ribs and curving over his pec, stroking it, while the other hand cupped the side of his face and cradled him in the kiss as it deepened and lingered. The way Steve touched him bordered on reverence. He moved over him until he could reach between them and get at the front of Bucky's fatigues, unbutton them and unzip the fly and tug the waistband down, impatient, greedy, wanting.