[ just hearing Zemo--knowing he enjoys this--makes Bucky throb, makes him ache for more. The steady pace Zemo settles into, like he's putting on a familiar garment. It's heady and hot and Bucky's fingertips curl into the shorter hairs at the nape of Zemo's neck, nails scraping lightly back upwards in a slow drag. On a whim, he tugs lightly, curious as to what response it will elicit. ]
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