ic contact; duplicity

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[cicatrize]

[ you're very welcome, dear, it's what he does best. as bucky slots against him, and pushes down between his cheeks, the slow, sweet drag of it inspires the half-there dream jack's settling into, loving the weight that presses down and holds him, the thickness against his ass, the heat of bare skin crowding him down against the mattress.

you'd think someone like jack would hate being held down, but honestly, there's a kind of safety to being pinned underneath a body he trusts - underneath bucky's at least. while it isn't bucky in his dream (and it sure as hell isn't mae), the feeling of security was there as he'd dozed off.

more likely, it's some chris hemsworth looking greek adonis motherfucker dragging his cock up and down and up and down and driving him mad with just not enough. the low hum that purrs deep against his back rattles through him, and jack lets out a soft keen, like a whimper or a whine, hips pushing back against the source of pressure and fiction.

his cock, swollen and leaking against his briefs, throbs and jack, lost and sleepy and not all here, shoves at his waist band (or his shirt? or the blanket? it's hard to be that functional in a dream, usually he just writhes until he gets the feeling he wants). there's a barrier in the way and he's pushing at it - that's all dream-jack knows. get thee gone, pj pants. ]