There was this odd, conflicted sort of look on Zemo's face. The baron wanted to fling himself into optimism. Just once - just once - maybe he could hope for a positive outcome and it would actually happen. He wanted this, wanted to wake up next to Bucky and see his handsome face every morning. Make him coffee, whisper to one another in bed. But it was reckless to get ahead of himself. And as badly as he wanted to ask, as badly as he wanted to talk about it, Zemo kept his mouth shut on the matter.
Instead, his hand returned to Bucky's cheek, his thumb smoothing over his five-o-clock shadow. There were a thousand thoughts running through his mind, the most prominent one being the utter shock that Bucky had just had his mouth on his dick, followed by some persistent sense of joy. Zemo loved this man and he couldn't stop himself from experiencing some sort of selfish pride in what had just happened between them.
Zemo just prayed that Bucky would not later hold it against him.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Bucky's lips. He didn't care that his mouth tasted of himself. Nothing could have stopped Zemo from kissing Bucky in that moment, save for Bucky himself. When he leaned away, there was some hesitant concern on the baron's features. "Are you okay?"