[ The pain snaps in two like a branch, hollow and final. There is no actual fading in the physical sense; his hand stops burning immediately, and with no real wound or injury left behind it just... stops hurting. Tingles, maybe, prickling from the force of his hold and from his mind trying to wrap around the sudden change.
The emotional thundering is swept out with a strong gust of relief, of peace, and as soon as it hits he lets go on instinct. Slumps back into the grass to just... breathe. To just breathe, because it feels like he hasn't in an hour.
Letting it all wash away. Spinning in the sudden calm.
It occurs to him that he still has a face, that the snarling and snapping has stopped, and the first threads of actual conscious, deliberate awareness begin to fade back in. His eyes slit open, his chin tips over, taking in the sight of a hand-paw hybrid still wrapped around his wrist.
The relief is audible this time, with a loud exhale between parted lips. Can't mean anything but that he's snapped out of it, right? God, he's really hoping so. It wouldn't be so bad if they hadn't been at this for days and days already. Poor sleep, wounds that have only barely started to heal, Bucky's entire left side has been sore constantly with little reprieve.
He'll go another round if he has to.
Christ, he doesn't want to, though. The sight of that maw over him, that dark deep hole of a throat, too many teeth, the vague certainty that Steve would've torn him apart and literally eaten him because of that hunger he felt bleeding through...
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The emotional thundering is swept out with a strong gust of relief, of peace, and as soon as it hits he lets go on instinct. Slumps back into the grass to just... breathe. To just breathe, because it feels like he hasn't in an hour.
Letting it all wash away. Spinning in the sudden calm.
It occurs to him that he still has a face, that the snarling and snapping has stopped, and the first threads of actual conscious, deliberate awareness begin to fade back in. His eyes slit open, his chin tips over, taking in the sight of a hand-paw hybrid still wrapped around his wrist.
The relief is audible this time, with a loud exhale between parted lips. Can't mean anything but that he's snapped out of it, right? God, he's really hoping so. It wouldn't be so bad if they hadn't been at this for days and days already. Poor sleep, wounds that have only barely started to heal, Bucky's entire left side has been sore constantly with little reprieve.
He'll go another round if he has to.
Christ, he doesn't want to, though. The sight of that maw over him, that dark deep hole of a throat, too many teeth, the vague certainty that Steve would've torn him apart and literally eaten him because of that hunger he felt bleeding through...
Not to mention-- ]
Your breath is terrible.
[ Just so you know. ]