They might be a couple this time around, and best friends in the public eye, but they know they still can’t interact much during the Sochi Olympics. It’s too risky for Ilya’s safety. They smile at each other from afar, send a couple of extremely polite, safe, texts.
Ilya always wondered if he could have done better as the Russian team captain, gotten his team further in the tournament. He’s an even stronger player now, better strategist and yet it changes nothing. You can’t finish a puzzle when all of the pieces refuse to fit together. He’s strangely relieved.
He goes to the same spot to watch the ice skating competition afterwards. Shane still comes to find him. He keeps his distance but his eyes are fond, his stance relaxed. “Mind if I stay here with you ?” “Be my guest.” Ilya smiles, grateful for Shane’s presence and silent support. They stay there until the competition ends for the day.
That night, Ilya’s father keeps yelling at him about Latvia, dishonoring his country and his family, being a traitor hanging out with a Canadian in gossip rags instead of training seriously. Maybe it’s because Ilya’s older and more aware of his worth, maybe it’s the years of therapy, Shane’s soft smile that afternoon or the text from Yuna and David that said “You played some wonderful hockey, son, that team didn’t deserve you. Ps : Yuna says the Cup is yours this season”. Maybe it’s a mix of everything.
He stands up to his father. Asks why he should honor a country and people who don’t even respect him, who never cared for him unless they could get something from him. Who always asked more. More than what they deserved, more than he could give, more than anyone could. He stayed calm but he made it clear that he was done living this way. His father laugh was mean. Cruel. “So you wanna live like a greedy American pig now ? You’re not my son anymore.”
The words hurt. They break something in him. He’s never felt lighter.
He knows he’ll still set up a trust for his niece, and secure a place for his father in a good assisted living facility once he’s back home in Boston, but he doesn’t owe his father or brother anything. He realizes he never did.
After packing the last few things from his mother he could find in the house and checking into a hotel room, he sends a text to Shane. GPS coordinates and “tomorrow, 6am.” Shane sends an inconspicuous “ok” back almost immediately.
Shane thinks that yeah, the message is strange. But he opens the coordinates in his phone’s map, and realizes they were in the middle of a cemetery. He has an inkling of what, or rather who, he will find there.
The next day he shows up at 6am sharp, in front of a neatly cleaned tombstone, with fresh flowers on top. A bouquet of lilies. Shane can’t read Russian (yet) but he knows it’s hers. Irina’s.
Ilya is sitting against a tree nearby, slightly dusty. He doesn’t come closer, in case someone’s watching them. It’s unlikely that early, but you never know. But he looks at Shane, who eyes are getting misty in front of the tomb. “I wanted you two to meet.”
He tells Shane about the night before, how he doesn’t plan on coming back to Russia after that and he wanted Shane to come to that specific place with him before they leave for good. Shane wants to ask a million questions, how Ilya is feeling, is he sure about never coming back. But they have time. He can ask these later, once they’re safe back home in each other’s arms. So instead he says “Thank you for introducing us to each other.”
He talks to Irina about how much he loves her son, how proud she’d be of him. How he intends to spend his life taking care of Ilya. He’s not sure how long he stays there but at some point the wind against his cheeks starts to feel like a soft, loving answer.
Eventually he has to leave, he needs to warm up for his next game. He looks at Ilya who hasn’t moved, but listened to the whole conversation with tears on his cheeks. Shane wants so desperately to hug him. Instead he silently mouths an “I love you so much”. Ilya smiles, a soft thing in the early morning light.
Their fingers brush as Shane departs. Five more days at the most and they’ll be able to be in each other arms again. But for now the love they carry in their hearts will be enough.
Chapter 2 of Before I Wake is here! I am including the text under the cut here, just in case y'all don't feel like going to another website, which is real of you. (Nearly 4000 words)
Simon found it oddly unfortunate that he couldn’t prove that Grace had been lying about how he had appeared. Mostly because it would make it easier to continue distrusting them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just knew it wasn’t wise. He had spent so much of his life up to this point being tricked and used. He wasn’t about to let it happen again. Simon had just stared at Grace’s hopeful expression after being shown the footage, then turned and walked away. Grace had asked him where he was going, but he had simply chosen not to respond. He just walked- walked until he found a window, and then he found he couldn’t budge from that spot. The stars- the stars he hadn’t seen in so long- billions of them.
He stayed there for a while, constantly shifting through sorrow, fear and anger- like he couldn’t figure out what state of mind to be in. He felt like he was fucking losing it. He managed to tear himself away from the window eventually and found his way to the bathroom. There was an actual mirror in there. He could look himself over. He didn’t like what he saw. Mottled scarring on the left half of his face, surrounding that eye- the eye that reminded him so much of… of what he had seen. Whatever it was, he couldn’t be sure. What was he meant to believe? That God was real and fucking hated him, or that he was hallucinating from the alcohol poisoning and radiation and dehydration and whatever the hell else? Neither made sense, considering where he was. If God hated him, he wouldn’t be alive, and hallucinations couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead. Though, that did pose the concern that the Hail Mary- that everything that had happened to him after his presumed death- was a hallucination. That seemed like the easiest thing to believe. Then again, if that were the case, that would mean there was no point in distrusting Grace and- what was its name again? Rocky? Fitting, Simon guessed, though that didn’t matter.
He hadn’t realized he had left the bathroom until he returned back to what he assumed was the main area of the ship, where Rocky and Grace were fervently discussing him. He glanced over Grace’s shoulder, reading some of the words. Reading “Merman???” almost got a chuckle out of him. Almost. Still, there was the matter of the fact that these two seemed to view him as some sort of… subject. Like a fucking amoeba or something. Something to be studied. Part of him knew he should be scared, but another part of him- the cynical part of him- couldn’t give a rat’s ass. What was this but another use someone could put him to? Furthering science or some bullshit like that- like he had been sent to his death to do before. He came up behind the two of them.
“What the fuck is thi-” he didn’t even get to finish speaking before Rocky started letting out a shrill, musical shrieking sound, which Grace sort of mimicked, just less musically. Simon was a bit startled, slightly amused, and maybe a bit hurt, though he could imagine his presence had startled them more than the… whatever was wrong with him that they seemed so fascinated by. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that was definitely part of the reason. He was a monster, as maybe he always had been- a butcher. He could hear that voice again- grating at the back of his mind. He had been trying to block it out, but it was everpresent- mocking him. Hating him. Part of him wondered if he was just imagining it as a separate voice, since he found it difficult to disagree with what it said. He forced it out regardless, though. He didn’t want to hear it. Not now.
“Jeez, Simon!” Grace laughed sheepishly and pushed his glasses back up his nose, “You startled us-”
“Human scary!” Rocky interjected, waving his arms about. He seemed… angry, maybe? Simon couldn’t tell. He wasn’t a fan of the little fucker either, so he guessed the feeling was at least mutual.
“Says the spider made of rocks.” Simon retorted, grumbling slightly.
“Rocky not spider! Rocky Eridian! Eridian beautiful!” Rocky stamped one of his appendages on the ground indignantly and Simon rolled his eyes. Yeah. Rocky was definitely not a fan of him. Though, he wasn’t exactly helping the thing to like him more.
“Uh-huh. Anyway,” he turned his attention to Grace, who was standing rather awkwardly to the side, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “What’s that?” He gestured past Grace and Rocky to the whiteboard behind them.
“I- well- I-I mean, we’ve never sent- technically we’re all aliens, if you think about it! I-I’m as much an alien to Rocky as he is to me, and you-” Simon watched Grace think better of what he was saying in real time- watched him shut his mouth tight with an audible “click”. He glanced back to the whiteboard and then- “I don’t… I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, Simon. You… you’re already dealing with a lot as is, and-”
“Mh- oh- oh, that?” Grace pointed a thumb behind himself, “That’s- it’s nothing, just- I- well,” Grace sighed, “Sorry. It’s just- you’re the second alien lifeform I’ve ever encountered, and I’ve learned so much from Rocky, so-”
“I’m not a fucking alien!” Simon shouted, and he noticed the ship seemed to waver- or maybe the air around him. He had done that before- when he had yelled at Grace earlier. He couldn’t understand why that was happening. Maybe it had to do with the everything that seemed to be wrong with him.
“Oh, yeah,” Simon scoffed, “Like you give a shit-”
“But I do!” Grace insisted, and Simon hated the earnestness his expression held- the way he seemed so desperate to have Simon believe him- to trust him. Simon knew better, though. He knew better, “I- I don’t want this to feel like-... I don’t know what happened to you, or where you came from, or- I-I want answers, believe me, and I bet you wish I had more answers than just to say you “appeared”, but I’ve got nothing. I don’t want you to feel- fudge, it’s just- it’s been so long since I’ve been around another human, I-”
“Wait, wait, wait- what the hell was that?” Simon was no longer concerned with whatever placation Grace was attempting to force on him, this took precedent.
“... What… what was what?” Grace asked, glancing around nervously.
“Okay, you- you said fudge. What is fudge, and how- why bring it up?”
“... You… don’t know what fudge is?” Grace blinked at Simon, and his bewildered expression kind of pissed Simon off, for some reason.
“No, I don’t. Just- what is it?”
“Well, um… it’s a dessert. Made of chocolate-”
“Chocolate? Really? Why the hell would you just say that for no reason?”
“I- well, I didn’t? It’s- it’s a replacement for, um- for a different word. Also starts with an ‘f’-”
“... So you’re telling me that you, a grown ass man, just unironically sensored yourself? On purpose?” Simon jeered, but this time he smirked a little bit. He saw some odd expression pass over Grace’s face, but it left as soon as Simon returned his expression to the natural frown he had worn pretty much since he first entered that stupid fucking sub.
“I- well-” And now Grace had seemed to feel he had the right to be upset about Simon pointing it out, “I used to be a teacher! I can’t just… go around cursing in front of them, now can I?”
“... You’re a teacher? No offense- or, full offense really, you just- you seem so… soft.” Simon knew what teachers were like. They were angry, often vindictive, and didn’t like it when you challenged their beliefs. Simon knew that from experience.
“Wh- that’s not tru-”
“Is true, statement.” Rocky interjected suddenly, “Grace leaky, squishy space blob. Soft.” Okay, so maybe Rocky wasn’t so bad. That was pretty funny.
“That’s- Rocky, you stay out of this!” Grace snapped, though it seemed playful, and Rocky made a few bouncy, shrill noises. Laughter, maybe? It seemed like laughter. Simon watched the two of them rib each other for a minute- laughing together like they’d known each other for years. Simon couldn’t comprehend any of this.
Once the tension had been broken, Grace and Rocky took their time explaining everything to Simon- why Grace had left Earth, how long the two of them had been traveling for, and how long they still had to get to Erid. Simon listened intently, asking occasional questions even though he figured they were probably useless, since he might not be getting real answers. Learning they weren’t returning to Earth wasn’t a shock- they wouldn’t be able to keep up whatever weird lie this was if they did. Or hallucination. Or after life- he really wasn’t sure what to believe anymore, honestly.
The next thing he questioned was about the stars being eaten. Simon said they’d been gone for years- since he was a boy, just like the plants. Grace offered up the theory that maybe he was from an alternate universe where their mission failed. Simon said it was horseshit. Rocky asked what that word meant.
The day passed by fairly uneventfully. Simon felt like he wasn’t really gaining any real information, but it didn’t hurt to pretend that he believed them. It might make them more forthcoming with information in the future, if he went along with whatever was happening here- gained their trust without trusting them in return. He wasn’t sure they were actually heading to any planet at all. For all he knew, he was just there to be experimented on, and all the rest of what they had said was just to keep him complacent… Actually, that seemed pretty reasonable.
Once again, he felt fear and anger creep in, but that was still unable to bubble up past the surface of his indifference. So what? So what if he would be experimented on alive until he was of more use to them dead? What difference did it make? He had wanted to live so badly, but what good had life ever done for him anyway?
“... Simon!” Grace’s voice pulled Simon from his thoughts, and he immediately reached to grab him around the neck, eyes blazing- fuck. So much for gaining their trust. He released Grace quickly, who coughed and rubbed at his neck. He felt lucky that Rocky wasn’t there. He had no grasp on what an “Eridian” was capable of fighting-wise, but he didn’t want to find out.
“Ack- r-right, my bad. Sorry.” Grace choked out as he stepped back. Simon couldn’t fathom why Grace was apologizing to him, considering that Grace was the one that had just gotten choked, but whatever. Simon glanced down at his hand, and for a moment it was covered in blood- roots spreading through. He shut his eyes tight, took a deep breath, then opened them again.
“What do you want?”
“I-I was just, um,” Grace cleared his throat, forcing himself to stop wheezing, “I wanted to tell you that Rocky and I were heading to bed, and that you should come with, but then I got worried that I was standing right in front of you and you couldn’t hear me, so I yelled to get your attention and-”
“Why would- you sleep together?”
“Well, yeah, we- not like that! I- I’m not propositioning you, if that’s-”
“That’s… not at all what I was thinking, no.” Simon darted his eyes off to the side, now sort of uncomfortable. “I just think it’s… weird. Why would you- like in the same bed, or-”
“Oh! Right, well- well, I sleep in my bed, and Rocky sort of sleeps next to it. He likes to watch me sleep-”
“Oh. Huh. Alright, gotcha. Do I have to come?”
“Creepy-”
“No, no! It’s- it’s part of his culture. Eridians have to watch each other sleep because they become paralyzed. They watch over each other because they can’t protect themselves during sleep.” Grace explained the concept very simply, as though he wasn’t telling the most dangerous person there his best friend and fellow crewmate’s greatest weakness. Either this guy was some sort of secret powerhouse, or he was a fucking idiot. Simon decided on the latter.
“I mean- I guess not, no. I just figured- I don’t know what I figured, actually.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I’ll- I’ll make you a pallet on the floor or something-”
“Weren’t there 3 other people on this ship? Don’t they have beds?”
“Well, yes, but they’re pretty cramped. I don’t actually sleep in mine. I, uh… Rocky and I mainly sleep in the lab or in a pallet I made for myself in the projection room.” Grace pulled his glasses down to hang below his chin as he spoke, “I could make you one nearby, or further away- whatever makes you more comfortable.”
“... Farther.” Simon answered after a moment, and he could have sworn that Grace almost seemed hurt by that. He doubted that, though. He was imagining things, clearly. He didn’t realize he was that fucking desperate for someone to care about him that he chose to imagine that Grace did. Honestly, he made himself sick.
Grace led him off to some random spot on the Hail Mary, where he set up some blankets and makeshift pillows for Simon. Simon didn’t thank him. Grace didn’t seem to mind. When he finished, Grace left with a barely audible “goodbye”, and Simon was just… alone. Alone with these soft, colorful blankets and a bundle of shirts to lay his head on. He laid down once Grace was gone. He hated to admit it, but he was exhausted. He needed the rest. He drifted off basically the second he closed his eyes.
Red. A sea of it. It stretched on for miles. A giant eye. A mouthful of teeth. A ripping sensation. A scream. A sob. Eyes burning. Lungs burning- filling- wheezing-
Simon sat straight up, his breathing heavy and ragged, a scream caught in his throat. He brought a trembling hand to his face. He could hardly breathe- he could still see blood. It was seeping up through the floor. He was going to drown. He was drowning. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying all over. He was dying, he was dying, he was dying-
Hands on his shoulders. Who… who would be here… he felt like he was being pulled from the blood ocean. A tugging. A voice that sounded like it was underwater shouted his name. He could hardly understand what it was saying, but he could feel its presence. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in- face pressed against whoever or whatever it was. They were warm. His hand scrambled for hold at its back. He sobbed into some soft, warm space. He could hear it swallow. He couldn’t open his eyes. He refused. He would just see blood again if he did.
“It’s… it’s gonna be okay…” He heard the voice mutter, clearer now. Grace, he realized belatedly, “You’re okay. Y-you’re safe… I’ve got you…” Grace’s voice cracked a bit as he spoke. He was crying. Simon couldn’t fathom why. He didn’t have the energy to.
When Simon inevitably returned to himself, he pulled away from Grace like he had been burned. He got a good look at his face then- his eyes red-rimmed with tears, the tracks having left damp marks down his cheeks. He looked even more hurt by Simon shoving him away, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t begin to understand it. He couldn’t understand any of this.
“Go,” he said, voice still shaking, despite having calmed down considerably.
“Simon, I- are you sure, you-” Grace reached out for him, and Simon immediately drew back further.
“Go!” He repeated, shouting this time. His voice seemed to shake the walls- making them thrum for a moment. Grace pulled his hand back toward himself- against his chest, fist clenched. He said nothing. He just got up silently and left. Simon felt a familiar sensation burning through him- boring a hole in his gut. Guilt. Despite him not trusting Grace, not trusting himself- despite being unsure about anything in regards to his surroundings- he still felt guilty. Guilty for hurting Grace. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He wasn’t a butcher. He wasn’t he wasn’t-
“You are.” Came that voice- the voice that had haunted him since he’d woken. The voices he had thought he was hallucinating. They didn’t seem like hallucinations anymore, though. He could pick out Ava’s voice among them. He had gotten her killed. He-
“You are a murderer, Simon. A killer. Destruction follows you, Butcher-” Simon put his hands over his ears as he began heaving again. He laid down like that, trying to sleep. He was so fucking tired. He held his eyes tightly shut, praying to whatever entity might still be willing to listen to him that this nightmare would end.
He didn’t get his wish. Sleep never found him that night, not fully. He slept in intervals of seconds, awoken by that same nightmare, by random noises from halfway across the ship, and his own fucking breathing. He had always been a sort of light sleeper, but it had never been nearly that bad. He groaned as he sat up from the floor, scrubbing hard at his face in hopes that he could somehow wipe his tiredness away. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. He sighed heavily before he stood, his movements unsure and shaky. From lack of sleep, residual fear, or a need to eat- he couldn’t be sure. He could at least fix the hunger issue. Or, he hoped he could. He wasn’t really sure. He ended up getting his answer when he overheard Grace and Rocky talking.
“Grace hardly have food for self!” Rocky was saying, “Grace no share food with merman!”
“Okay- Rocky, he isn’t a merman, that- that was mostly a joke, I just- look, he’s gotta eat something. I’m not gonna let him starve to death.” Grace muttered as he stirred… something. Simon had no idea what Grace could possibly have been making, but it smelled better than anything he had ever experienced, and he found himself wandering further into the room without fully thinking about it. Rocky and Grace turned around quickly when they heard his footsteps, and Simon froze where he was. For a moment, he considered apologizing, since he felt like he had somehow entered where he wasn’t welcome, but then he remembered that they likely brought him here… Maybe. He really needed to decide what he thought was happening here and stick with it. The situation was confusing enough without him overcomplicating it by deciding all possible reasons for his being there were occurring at once. He cleared his throat,
“What’s that?” He gestured towards the small steaming cups that Grace had prepared. Grace seemed confused.
“... You’ve never seen ramen before?” Grace asked, picking up both cups and holding one out to Simon. It looked… good. Smelled fucking amazing, too. And it was warm. He took the cup from Grace, holding it closer to his nose. Yeah, that was heavenly-
“As if you deserve even a fraction of heaven-” Simon jerked his head to the side, as though that would somehow toss the voice out. It seemed to at least interrupt its speaking. Grace was looking at him strangely now, though. Simon chose to simply not comment on it.
“This smells… interesting.” He said, lifting up the fork that Grace had been using to stir it.
“... Simon, what foods have you had?” Grace asked, and he almost sounded concerned- Simon wasn’t reading that right, clearly. Intrigued, then? No, that felt wrong, too.
“... Why? Is this part of your science shit, or-”
“Wh- no, no! You’ll know when that’s happening, I’ll warn you, trust me,” so they were going to experiment on him. He knew it, “No, it’s just- well… you seem to be sort of out of the loop about a lot of things. I just want to know exactly how much you need explained to you.” Grace is so gentle in the way he speaks- soft in a way Simon wasn’t used to hearing from anyone but his mother. He could hardly remember her face anymore. It had been so long, and he had experienced so much, but he remembered her voice- the way she would promise him that everything would be alright. He missed those days. Missed them desperately.
“... Simon?” Grace asked quietly, having learned now that he shouldn’t startle the man. Simon still jumped though, nearly spilling some of the ramen in his cup.
“I- oh, right, um… nutrient bars. That’s… yeah. That’s it. Sometimes, the nutrients came in packets instead of bars. The bars were for when times were real tough… and they usually were.” Simon stared into the liquid in his ramen, watched it darken to red- becoming thick. He tore his gaze away, looking to Grace instead, who seemed sort of uncomfortable suddenly.
“... Oh. Well, um… I bet the ramen probably tastes better than that?” Grace laughed a bit awkwardly and quickly started eating from his cup. Simon watched him do it. He could mimic the action better that way. He took his fork and twisted it around in the noodles, watching them wrap around it. He lifted the fork, and a large bite of “ramen” came up with it. Efficient. He put the bite in his mouth and immediately groaned at how delicious it was. It was warm and soothing- felt like a hug for the mouth, almost.
“Wow. You, uh… you really like that, huh?” Grace smiled a little bit.
“... Simon weird. Statement.”
“... You’re weird,” Simon retorted, and then belatedly added, “Statement.”
“C’mon, let’s not fight. We clearly all got off on the wrong foot, so let’s- let’s just try to be civil. Okay?” Grace looked between the two of them. Begrudgingly, the both assented.
“Great! Now, onto business,” and suddenly Grace started launching into a laundry list of different tests they needed to run on Simon, adding in a reminder to add Simon's name to Rocky's word list. Simon didn't need Grace to pretend the experiments were for his benefit, though Grace kept insisting most of them were to make sure he would be able to survive on the ship for as long as they would be there. Simon wasn't an idiot, though. He could tell that, even if this wasn’t meant to specifically further some sort of progress for Grace personally or humanity as a whole, he was just generally… fascinated by Simon’s mutations. Simon couldn’t say he felt the same. He was disgusted by them. Still, it was nice that Grace wasn’t, he guessed… even if however he actually felt about them was honestly weirder. Still, Simon would play along. He had nothing better to do- no where else to go. Simon couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame over his complacency, though.
He had wanted to live so badly in that sub- all he had wanted to do was live. Now, he had been granted new life, albeit likely fabricated, and he couldn’t care less anymore about dying or not. He had gotten Ava killed over his desire to live, and where he may not feel the need to mourn her loss for betraying him, the guilt still remained. A heavy weight upon his shoulders- his iron cross to bear.
Make your own dolls here or make your m/m dolls here or make your w/w dolls here
So I saw @sandcastlekings do this and tbh, I wanted to do it myself. XD Because I'm a sucker for getting to play dress up with my dolls OCs. So here's my (current) worldstate for the Dragon Age series.
Dragon Age: Origins-- Natia Brosca and Zevran Arainai
Dragon Age II-- Adam Hawke and Merrill*
Dragon Age: Inquisition-- Darvia Cadash and Varric Tethras**
Dragon Age: The Veilguard-- Rhanek de Riva and Lace Harding
So for those curious about my world state, here's a basic idea. LOTS of Dwarves in this universe. Gotta fix up what the Elves broke and all! ;)
*Teeeeechnically Adam's my newest Hawke but he's the only one I've really connected with? My earlier one was a blonde named Fiona if I remember right, and she was with Anders
**Yes I am fully aware Varric's not romancable, but seeing as it's a stupid decision, I'm making my own choices. Nyeh.
Tagging a few folks in case they want to see (or heck, join in and do THEIR worldstates too!) @seaglassmelody, @biowaredisasterbisexual, @mageofquandrix, @hyperions-light, @thedissonantverses, @hedwigoprah
I think reader would rhythmically contract around him to tease him, I think he'd enjoy at first but can he keep still?
Well…
You’d heard Bucky utter some pretty vulgar and untamed noises, but it’s the wordless hiss and shudder from him every time he feels the sheer warmth of your cunt around his cock that you enjoy the most. It makes your heart soar in your chest with pride and excitement.
The way his grip tightens into the flesh of your hips as if there is an internal battle raging in him whether to pull you off because you’ll destroy him, or to pull you tighter to him because what a way to go. The warmth is unlike anything and you squeeze him so tightly at his needy response to you, it worsens the situation until there is barely a thought left in his brain.
So you shouldn’t be surprised he only answers with a blank, albeit grumpy stare and a choked sound when you mention cockwarming to him. He thinks you’re just pestering him and maybe you kind of are, but a shudder rolls up your spine at the thought of being so full of him in his lap.
To spare his pride, you beg for it. “Bucky, please. I think you’ll like it.”
He bucks his hips slightly to shift in his seat on the big arm chair in your home. His thick thighs spread apart and he rubs his big palms up and down the fabric of his sweats. You lick your lips.
“You want to just sit,” he says, “on my cock? Just to keep it warm?”
You nod. He pauses and thinks for a while, eyes narrowed and never leaving you as you stand before him and slowly inch closer. The longer he thinks about the concept and prospect of that heavenly request, the more anxious you become.
“Okay, but… Can I kiss you?” he asks and your stomach flips at the question. God, of course he can kiss you!
You nod again with a small smile.
“What’s the catch?” His voice sounds wary.
You shrug, “I suppose it’ll be hard not to fuck into me.” His eyes darken and he shifts again. “But I don’t think I will stop you if you do.”
He stiffens at that and licks his lips, his eyes borderline predatory now. You inch closer some more. Close enough for his hands to reach to your hips, stroking gently before helping you straddle him.
His nose nudges yours and you feel him harden beneath you, a smirk now playing on his lips. “Is it something we can do in public?”
“Bucky!”
He laughs and squeezes your hips. “Yeah, yeah. Fine,” he mutters, lowering his sensuous mouth to your neck. “One step at a time.”
And it’s true - if Bucky’s restraint now is anything to go by, he won’t last any longer than a minute in public. You envelop him warmly with your wet pussy when he pulls himself out, making sure to tease and rub your clit to get you excited. Fuck. He’s not making this easy for you either.
Every twitch is torture and his kisses are even worse. His warm, nearly boiling hands stroke everywhere, his mouth nipping and licking and sucking at your lips. He moans softly into the kiss and strokes his tongue against yours until you whimper.
The slow roll of your hips is completely involuntary and Bucky does nothing to stop you. He lets you grind your frustrations into him, enjoying the warm squeezes you give his cock when he strokes his tongue into your mouth just right. And before you know it, you’re a feral, purring cat in heat in his lap. He revels in it.
But he gets the challenge now, because one raise of his hips and the startled moan that it causes from you- and he’s a goner.
(…and you can’t wait to tell him when your cunt is warmest and the most swollen - when you are the most needy for him to fill you up. But Bucky already knows and he cannot fucking wait for that time of the month.)
someone screenshot one of my mohabbot fics on twitter and it kind of kicked off and I am sure they meant well but it kickstarted like 2 weeks of erectile dysfunction discourse and "why do people write abbot like this" and Im like. Sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just think it's sexy when an older man has to use his hands and mouth instead and he's not up his own ass about his penis being the end all be all! he's fifty years old and he's on medication and he thinks about killing himself on a regular basis like he's not going to be "fucking someone five times in a row with zero refractory period" and I think WRITING realistic sex is funnnnnn shooot meeeee
