summary: bob always gets in these moods where he always needs to be touching something. the team have started calling it his ‘touchy-time’, but they don’t know the extent of bob’s neediness when it comes to you. today’s touchy-time happens right before valentina's mandatory team dinner.
prompt: you don’t make it to dinner 🌶️
pairing: bob reynolds x thunderbolts!reader
word count: 3.1k
content contains: +18 content— smut. secret relationship lets go, wall sex lets go, neck kissing lets go, bob is super needy and touchy lets fucking go, manhandling(?)letsgo
authors note: day six of galentines collab!! the concept of male ovulation 🧠 he’s like a little funky boy dog that goes around humping anything and everything he sees. that’s the vibe i’m going for. can you tell. also this has been in my drafts forever and ive wanted to write for it but never got around to it. hurrah for clearing out my wips!!
erin's galentines collab masterlist
no one could remember exactly when bob stopped being mopey and started getting more touchy-feeling with you.
it hadn't been sudden, nor had there been a single moment where the team could think back to a certain time and say 'that's when it started'. it was subtle enough that he'd managed to slip under the radar until it became something that nobody could ignore.
it started with bob inching closer to you on the couch when the two of you were watching movies. then it escalated to holding your hands at random points in time even if you needed them, and in that case, his hand would fall to your thigh instead. at one point, he'd managed to convince you to let him into your bed by blaming it on the void, and stupidly enough, you'd let him.
at first, it had been a joke between the team because it was honestly a little funny to see bob clinging onto you like a puppy, but sooner down the line, the touch turned into something needier, and that's the part that the two of you hid from them.
the touch turned sexual, and even though you both knew it was wrong doing this with someone who is essentially a coworker, you could never stop— or more like bob could never stop.
maybe it was because he had taken a liking to you. you'd been nothing but kind and accomodating to him since you first met him in that bunker (apart from when you'd shoved your gun in his face). whenever he sensed he was falling apart, he gravitated towards you, and you'd always let him. you had assumed he had just wanted to stick around that kimd of energy when everybody else on the team had turned a blind eye to him.
of course there were days when bob could keep his hands to himself, but he had found that if he stayed away for long enough, his hands— restless and searching— always seemed to settle easier when they found you.
and unfortunately for you and the team, today seemed to be one of those days where he'd restrained himself from touching you.
valentina had organised a mandatory team-building dinner in order to... well, team-build. she practically demanded that everyone get dressed up to the nines and that the jet would pick them up and drop them off at some fancy restaurant halfway across the country.
you linger in your room longer then you mean to, smoothing down the wrinkles and creases in your black dress like it might change its mind about how it's sitting on your body if you dont reassure it enough.
you almost never wear this dress and only wear it for special occasions, and you counted this as one. it fit nicely almost like it was made specifically for you, it skimmed down your body just enough to make you stand a little taller as you look at your reflection. you look really good.
you slip on your heels, tuck your phone into your purse, and give yourself one final look in the mirror— more for courage than vanity— before heading out of your room and shutting the door.
the living room is quiet apart from the boring show on the television and the click of your heels as you walk across the marble floor. the entire team is there scattered across the sofas in their fancy attire like a bunch of overdressed mannequins.
jackets are unbuttoned, ties are loosened, makeup is already a little smudged, some are scrolling on their phones, others are staring at the television screen. they all just look like they're reconsidering every life choice that'd led them here.
the first thing you notice is that bob isn't there.
yelena is the first to turn her head. her eyes fall up and down you a few times before she throws an arm across the back of the sofa. "you look nice." she compliments, and it sounds genuine.
"thanks. it's a bit itchy, but it's comfortable enough for one night." you tug at the fabric that'd bunched at your hips after your short venture down the hall. "you guys look nice too. maybe we should start dressing up more often."
bucky shakes his head, eyes set on the tv. "i'd rather not."
john looks around the room at the team, brows raised as he takes in the mixed of bored expressions and sluggish bodies. "is that all of us? can we finally get off of our asses and get going?"
"eh, bob is not here yet." alexei points out.
"speaking of bob—" bucky turns his head to you, "did you manage to talk to him about limiting touchy-time like we talked about?"
"i cant believe we call it touchy-time." ava mumbles as she stares at the television screen, more to herself than anyone else.
"i tried during training yesterday," you scratch the back of your neck. "but he kept changing the subject. didn't seem like he wanted anything to do with it, so i stopped asking."
"have you ever considered telling him to stop completely? i mean seriously, imagine when he gets sentry under control and valentina clears him for missions." john gestures to nothing in general, hand waving around like it's helping the team visualise it. "kid's gonna be humping your leg like a horny chihuaha while we're getting shot at—"
yelena cuts in with a groan of disgust, "gross, walker. nobody wants to imagine that."
bucky sighs, "i hate to say it, but i agree with john."
ava turns away from the screen, suddenly tuned into the conversation. "me too. do you ever think he just comes up with excuses because he wants to get all touchy-feely with you? i know he's a little... unstable, but how many times can he use the excuse of the void to fondle you all day?"
"he doesnt—" you blink, a little shocked at ava's use of words. "he doesnt fondle me. he just needs a little attention sometimes. that's all." you try to defend yourself as well as bob, but it seems to fall upon deaf ears.
"attention turns into obsession." john adds as if he's a wise old wizard. "i read that online once."
alexei decides its his turn to add his input. "i think its very sweet! is like little puppy and mama dog. if no lines are crossed, then i think those two should be allowed to have touchy-feely time."
you cringe at alexei comparing you and bob to dogs before you huff out a sigh. "can we not talk about bob behind his back? it feels rude. where is he anyways?"
"no idea." yelena shrugs. "we're all out here because we were waiting on you and him."
john checks his watch, one certainly gifted to him by valentina. "yeah, and we're gonna be late if he doesn't haul ass within the next ten minutes."
you glance down the hall, your eyes fixed on bob's door. it remains shut just like it has been all day, and a small knot of concern ties itself in your stomach. something about him being late doesn't settle well with you. you know his routine and his moods, and you know that when he's unusually quiet like this, then it means he's fighting something.
"i'll go check on him." you say, already turning towards the corridor, "make sure he's not dead."
"and tell him to hurry his ass up!" john calls behind you.
you don't bother responding. you turn and head down the hallway, the echo of your heels on the tile bouncing off of the walls while the noise of the living room fades as you move. you come face to face with bob's door, your hand hesitating before you knock, but your knuckles hit the wood three times anyways.
"bob? are you in the—"
the door opens and you're yanked inside by a sharp tug on your wrist before you can finish your sentence, the corridor disappearing as the door shuts behind you.
the first thing you notice is that bob is in front of you and he's sandwiched you between the wall, his mouth already working against yours. the next thing you notice is that his hands are already pulling up your dress, the fabric bunching in his hands as he drags it up.
you break away for air, but bob doesn't take a second for granted. he latches onto your throat and he inhaled a sharp breath that sounds like a mix of relief and indulgence, as if kissing you in the only thing keeping his alive.
"i'm sorry." he whispers into your skin, but you both know the apology won't stick. "sorry—"
his room is quiet apart from his heavy breathing and the small pants that he pulls from you, the light dim through closed curtains and the red glow of his alarm clock. you can still hear the soft chatter of the team down the hall, and it pulls the urgency from deep within you.
you place your hands flat on his chest. he doesnt pull away, but he doesn't push any further either, caught in the miserable in-between where restraint is costing him. you can feel his heartbeat through his chest where your palms rest, pounding and restless with you in his arms.
you frown, "the team is waiting for us, bob—"
but the words barely leave your mouth before he's shaking his head, brown curls brushing against your neck and the underside of your jaw.
"i know they are. i'm sorry, baby. i tried to stay away. i really did," he murmurs against your throat, apologies spilling out of his mouth although his teeth nipping at your skin says otherwise. "but please— i need you."
bob's hands are already tugging down your panties, thumbs hooked in the bands as he drags them down your legs, and although everything in you is screaming to pull him off of you and rush him out of the door, your body moves on its own, stepping out of the fabric as soon as it drops to your feet.
"val's going to eat us alive if we don't make it to dinner." you whimper when he sucks at the base of your neck, hands crawling at the back of his dress shirt.
"then let her. i'll be quick. been holding it in all day, but i cant do it anymore." he groans as his lips travel back up until he's pressing messy kisses onto your jaw and your cheek. "jus' need to feel you on my cock. need to feel you cum on me."
that sends a pant of heat through you.
your brows knit. he really has been good all day— no hovering by your side, no excuses to linger, and no absent minded touches— but now you can feel the cost of it in the way he's undoing his belt and in the way he's so hungry for you that you think he might actually bite you, and you know that you cannot let him go to dinner like this.
"okay." you sigh with a small nod, your hands crawling up to his neck and slotting into the soft brown tuft of hair at the base of his head, "then fuck me."
the groan that rips form his throat and low, and he unbuckles his belt faster than he ever has before. he rips it from his dress pants and it clatters to the floor in a stringy mess. then come his pants, the zipper already undone as he shrugs them and his boxers to the ground.
bob's hands hook under your thighs and he hoists you up against the wall, his weeping cock pressing against you with a pathetic whimper.
he's learnt that even without the sentry, he has enough strength to lift you like you weigh nothing. he's even learnt that he can lift you with one hand. dont ask him how.
his lips are back on yours, his tongue lapping messily against your mouth before you let him in. the kiss is a little rough around the edges like he's forgotten how to be careful with you, all heat and urgency as he breaths you in. you're sure your makeup is all smudged, but you don't really care now that the blunt tip of bob's dick is pressing into you.
and when he finally pushes in,
"fuuuuuccckkkk..." he moans, a little too loud for your liking.
"bob, you have to be—" you cut yourself off with a staggered breath as bob drops you down onto him deep enough that you can feel him in your stomach. "you have to be quiet."
"i'm sorry, it's just— i missed you." his brows furrow in pleasure, his head dropping back down to your neck. "god, you're so tight."
you sigh, "it's been two days."
"too long." he murmurs into your neck. "never wanna be apart from you ever again."
bob starts moving slow, holding onto you by your thighs and rutting his hips into you like he's trying to make sure that your body remember him. his chest is pressed so tight against yours that you almost feel like you can't breathe, and your arms are wrapped around his torso clinging for more.
just as you think he might be savouring the moment, he lifts you without warning and drops you back onto his dick. the sheer force of it rips a moan from your mouth, catching you so off guard that you bite down into his shoulder, your saliva soaking the fabric.
bob pants into your ear, eyes heavy with pleasure. "needed this so bad. needed you. needed to fuck you."
bob doesnt rut into you anymore. instead, he begins lifting you up and down his cock, shuddering in your arms as he drags against your warm walls. the pace he sets is fast enough for the echo of skin-on-skin to bounce around the room, the angle and the pressure of which he has you against the wall hits all of the soft spots in you. your eyes almost roll back, body practically going limp in his arms.
one of his hands come up to cup your face, thumb running along your bottom lip and his eyes watching every quiver in your expression. his other hand continues lifting you and dropping you onto his dick, his fingers digging into your skin with every harsh bounce.
"i heard you talking to the team about our arrangement— about whatever this is—" he admits quietly, eyes set on your saliva coated mouth. "i know it's bad and i know we shouldn't do this."
"bob." you try to cut him off, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to ground him, but he continues, panicked and a little earnest.
"so just— just tell me to stop and i'll stop—" he rushes, his brows furrowing as he speeds up, his hips bucking up into you, "say the word and i will, i swear. i'll back off and i'll behave, i—"
"faster."
the word leaves your mouth as a whisper, soft and broken and honest, and that seems to be what undoes bob.
his hand falls back to the underside of your thigh and lifts your legs a little higher until your hamstrings burn and your knees are pressing into your chest. he's not bouncing you anymore, but now he's fucking up into you, his cock tearing through you like this is all he needs.
you grab at him, hoping to hold onto something that'll ground you, but he's so strong and so steady that you don't even need to. he's holding you so tight in his arms that you're sure he'd catch you if you were to fall, and that in itself has the ball of heat in your stomach ready to snap.
but then there's a knock at his door only a feet feet from you, and even though it pulls you from your daze, bob continues dragging you his cock in and out of you as if one of your friends isn't right outside.
"hey, you guys in there?" yelena's voice spills through the quiet, "john's getting all pissy with us, so we're leaving."
you have to force a hand over bob's mouth, his moans and panting spilling into your palm, and you feel a little bad when you see the tears that brim in his waterline. your brows knit as you force your eyes to stay open, willing yourself to keep focus when bob can't.
"bob isn't feeling good, so i think—" you swallow down a moan when bob thrusts into you hard enough that your clit grinds into his lower stomach. "i think we're just gonna stay back so i can take—" you gasp, "take care of him."
and maybe bob understands your words as an excuse to fuck him all night long, because his eyes shut and he gets a little closer, hips grinding into your ass instead of fucking you. you've noticed this as a tell that he's close, and the friction is enough to send you over the edge too.
"okaayyyy..." she drawls through the door. "your funeral. we'll be back in a few hours. dont burn the tower down. or do. i dont care."
you can hear yelena's footsteps recording down the hall, and as soon as you move your hand from his mouth, bob starts pistoning into you with inhumane speed, his head dropping onto your shin as he presses into you and finally fills you up.
the sound of his hopeless rutting turns filthy with the combination of your slick and his cum, and he leans in to press another messy kiss to your mouth. your chests move together, and the room falls silent except for the soft sounds of your breathing— his uneven and yours still catching— paired with the quiet thud of his heart.
and the first thing that comes out of his mouth isn't a reassurance or a apology, but a question.
"does that mean you don't want to stop?" he asks, his voice low with uncertainty and what sounds like hope, almost like he's bracing for the answer even though he knows what it is.
your smile as best you can, already tired. your fingers run through his hair, tugging at the soft knots you'd accidentally formed before you speak.
"of course not." you say quietly, "i know the team complains about it sometimes, but that's not something they get to complain about. i dont think its a problem that needs fixing."
the hope in his expression warms your heart. he exhaled like he's been holding his breath all day before he leans into your touch like he's finally allowed to. but then, slowly but surely, you feel his dick harden inside you again.
"are you hard again?" you ask with false annoyance lacing your words, but you could never actually be annoyed with him.
he plays it off by giving you a small peck on the lips, the top of his nose brushing yours as he leans his forehead against yours. "maybe."
Omg girlie can you imagine bob adjusting to having super strength after the serum? I'm thinking of the classic marvel scenes of wolverine and spiderman breaking the sinks bc they don't realise their own strength yet
ty for requesting :D — the one where bob reynolds has a way of ruining everything but you (established relationship, post-thunderbolts, cw smut 18+!! | 1.5k)
Robert Reynolds is the strongest Avenger known to man. He’s also the clumsiest one, too.
It’s a running theory among the Thunderbolts that his newfound powers didn’t relieve him of his gracelessness, but rather amplified it along with his strength. His perpetual awkward disposition would be endearing if it weren’t the absolute worst trait a superhero with otherworldly capabilities could possess.
Of all things to be known for, Bob is notorious for breaking things around the tower — not because he’s angry or because he ever means to, but because he’s happy and totally unaware of his strength, like some kind of large-breed puppy.
But, by all accounts, Bob Reynolds is completely and utterly harmless.
Most of the time.
He’s the last to wake and join the lot of you by the poolside, where the team scarfs down their breakfast by the water. Ava forks down her omelet and meanders aimlessly on a pool float, while Alexei belly flops into the water until his tattooed torso is glowing red. “Lena, look,” he calls to his daughter with a grin every time. “Watch me, Lena.” (He’s got no idea Yelena’s fallen asleep behind her sunglasses.)
Alexei hits the water harder this time and inadvertently splashes Ava from the opposite end of the pool. She glares with her mostly unscathed omelette in hand. “Do it again, fat man,” she threatens callously enough to make the aging super soldier cower.
“Hey,” Walker scolds instinctively from where he sunbathes in a lounge chair. “Play nice.”
Bob enters then like a total ray of sunshine — a giddy, golden thing in a white tank top and a pair of tropical-patterned trunks. He glows with the distant understanding that this will likely be the first time in years he’s gotten to have fun. The ‘totally sober, free from experimentation, no obligation to fight crime’ fun.
He’s got a smile on his face that someone could see from a mile away. The kind that shows the dimple in his left cheek and makes his eyes squint at the edges. The kind that you’ve learned often means trouble. “Bob, slow down—” you just manage to caution from where you kick your feet in the shallow end with Bucky.
But by then, it’s already too late.
Bob’s already slammed the door shut behind him — a simple flick of his wrist that’s got a world of inadvertent power behind it. Everyone flinches, bracing themselves for the inevitable impact. The thick glass of the sliding door cracks and shatters until you can’t see through it anymore.
Bob just freezes, cheeks burning red, like staying still enough will make him invisible.
“Nice going, Bobby,” Ava chides with her mouthful.
“I’ll fix it,” he squeaks out.
Walker laughs. “How?”
Bob falters. “I’ll… I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” he shrugs with a wavering smile, much too pretty to argue with.
It stays broken for two days after that, which is how long it takes Valentina to send someone up to fix it.
Typically, when Bob breaks one thing, he breaks several others in quick succession. None of you is totally sure why that is — you only know that a few of you have made quite a bit of money betting on what he’ll break next. (You once made a pretty penny in one night after correctly assuming that Bob would break the dining table before dinner after he’d shattered one of the chairs at breakfast that morning.)
So, you feel pretty confident now betting that Bob will end up shattering the newly installed glass door.
Of all the other guesses from the remaining Thunderbolts, Alexei’s is the most horrid. “The bed’s next. I know it,” he guesses in a low Russian drawl, then scoffs at the screwed look of disgust on your face. “I share a wall with you, you know? I hear these things—”
When Bob follows you into the bathroom later that night, half-asleep and insistent on keeping you company while you shower, you wonder silently what’s in there for him to break — the sink, the towel rod, the mirror maybe (if he’s being particularly reckless, which would then mean you’d owe Yelena fifty dollars).
You can’t help but worry as he trudges in behind you, visibly weighed down by sleep.
“You don’t have to wait for me, Bob,” you giggle from behind the foggy, translucent curtain. He can just barely make out the pretty sound of it beneath the thundering water cascading over you in steamy droplets. “You know that, right?”
Bob rubs a fist over his swollen eyes, wearing the need for slumber all over — in his wild chestnut curls and the glazed-over look in his dark ocean eyes. “I want to, though…” he murmurs in tired slurs. “I missed you.”
“Well, if you were asleep, you wouldn’t be able to miss me.”
“I always miss you when you’re not around,” Bob scoffs, wrapping his fingers around the counter’s edge as he angles himself to sit on top of it.
You open your mouth to respond, but the words dissolve on the tip of your tongue at the dull crack that fills the bathroom. Bob freezes, eyes wide and breath hitching in his throat. The feeling of the marble counter shifting underneath him sobers him from sleep almost instantly.
Your hand slides the shower curtain back, just enough to reveal your flushed features and dripping hair. “…Did you break just something?” you wonder aloud when you don’t find anything obvious out of the ordinary.
Bob swallows hard and shakes his head, despite the split marble slowly pinching his sweatpant-clad thigh. “No,” he answers in a voice an octave higher than usual.
He shifts uncomfortably, and your eyes narrow into the thin slits. “You broke the counter, didn’t you?”
“I’ll fix it,” he blurts, just like he always does.
Because he always has the best intentions, never means to ruin anything — he just wishes he had the ability to put things back together after he’s broken them. He’d want that power over being some stupid invicible schmuch any day. At least then he’d feel actually deserving of all the praise he gets from the public, if he could make things better instead of destroying them.
As far as Bob’s concerned, the only thing he knows how to do properly is make you feel good. You’re the only thing he’s touched that he hasn’t totally ruined. Despite everything he’s hurt with his hands and his body and his mind, he uses those things to bring you to heaven and back too.
He fucks you within an inch of your life into the mattress, propped on his arms above you with his hands balling the pillow into his fists. His core burns with the intensity of his merciless thrusts, which punch so many pretty whines out of you.
“That the spot, baby?” he pants when your mouth parts in a silent moan, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. “That the spot? Huh?”
You nod wordlessly, unable to form the words, as your body grows taut underneath him. The stimulation is constant and ruthless — your sensitive nipples caged beneath his chest, your swollen clit rutting against the coarse thatch of hair above his cock, your velvet walls gushing around his piercing thrusts.
The pleasure is all-consuming. You couldn’t run from it if you tried.
Bob watches with lidded, attentive eyes as your orgasm racks suddenly through your body. Your nails dig crescent shapes into his shoulders in a desperate attempt to tether yourself when your limbs start to tremble underneath him. Your cunt pulses around his twitching cock, and his own orgasm swells in the pit of his stomach along with his pride.
“There you go…” Bob pants into your neck, hiding his face there while he chases his high with rapid and erratic thrusts. His fingertips threaten to dig bruises into your skin from where he holds so ardently to your hips. “Take it, baby,” he whimpers. “Take it…”
Your body feels lighter than air as you come down. You exhale deeply and rake your fingers through his curls, coaxing him softly as his cock begins to jerk within your pulsating confines. “Cum for me,” you beg in quiet slurs. “Need it so bad, baby, please cum for me—”
A pained sort of groan sounds deep in his throat. He punches into you once — hard — and suddenly a dull and hearty crack sounds from underneath you. You blink, and suddenly you’re lying halfway crooked on a lopsided bedframe.
If Bob notices the damage to the wooden thing, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps exhaling pretty little whines into your skin as his cock spits deep inside you. It takes several long moments for the haze to pass, for his cock to soften, and for Bob to realize how both of you are leaning ever so lightly askew.
“…I broke the bed, huh?” he pants against your neck, face still hidden, as his body weight rests wholly on top of you.
You nod, still breathless. “I think so.”
“I’ll fix it,” he promises.
You know he won’t, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
All you can think about now is that you owe Alexei fifty dollars.
Multi-character x gn!reader | Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Bob Reynolds, Bucky Barnes
| aka: how they tell you they *need* you
| CW: 18+ mdni, nsfw
-Wade Wilson/ Deadpool
Subtlety has never been Wade’s strong suit, especially not when his cock is involved. When it comes to wanting you- needing you- he’ll be damned if he can’t get that message across.
“Seduction is my middle name, toots,” Wade tells you, and he’s always been one to put his money where his mouth is.
Saying it, showing it, texting it, mailing you a letter. He wonders if it’s romantic to attach heart balloons to a carrier pigeon… or if it would just float away…
You come home one day to find a trail of rose petals leading to the bedroom, the sound of jazz music playing just beyond the door. You find yourself blushing as you follow the teasing tune, the I Love You and Be Mine balloons stuck to the walls making it worse. It wasn’t even a special occasion, Wade was just crazy about you.
You walk through the bedroom door and try not to choke as your eyes gaze over a very naked and very hard Deadpool, lying seductively across the mattress on an even bigger pile of rose petals. Wade’s not even the craziest thing laying on your sheets- you make eye contact with a paddle, some vibrators, and who knows what else before you find him looking at you with a shit eating grin. He has the audacity to wink and throw some petals in the air.
“Wade…” you start, but he lets out a tsk tsk sound and beckons you forward with his finger.
“You know how I get when I miss you, pookiebear,” he growls… or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to make out the exact words behind the rose dangling from his mouth.
-Peter Parker/ Spiderman
Peter is an amazing boyfriend. He is kind, sensitive, thoughtful… romantic, even when he’s not trying to be. He loves you, craves you, just as much as he loves finding new ways to tell you so.
…At his core, Peter Parker is also a huge nerd.
Is there something wrong with my eyes? I can’t seem to get them off of you. // You must be gravity, because my body can’t seem to stay away from yours.
Pick up line, after pick up line. Almost always he’ll use one when he’s in the mood, like it’s physically impossible for him to initiate anything without cracking a joke. He means them too.
“What are you doing?” You ask him, and all he can do is blink down at you.
“Uhh.. trying to pick you up? … Is it working?”
You can’t even be too mad; they’re always sweeter than they are raunchy.
The dorkiness gets through to you in the end, it always does. The shy smile he offers you as he kisses your cheek, the way his eyes light up when you can no longer hold back a grin. He’ll pick you up and toss you over his shoulder, and you can’t help but laugh and squeal as he takes you to the bedroom.
He’ll continue saying the most ridiculous pick up lines all through the night, even as his hands and lips roam over your body. Only way to shut him up for good is to preoccupy his tongue with doing something else, and he’d never complain about that.
-Bob Reynolds/ The Sentry
He googles it, the first time.
‘How to set the mood, sexually’ he types, and begins his deep dive. The results only make him anxious, and more confused than before he started. What the hell was so sexy about jazz? Was this a cartoon? What kind of person would genuinely think jazz sets the mood?
The search eventually turns into questions like ‘How to be sexy’ and ‘what do people find sexy nowadays’; both of which only make him red in the face and slam the laptop shut in defeat. If anyone ever found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it.
It scares him shitless- the possibility of rejection and outright humiliation at being turned down by the one he loves- but he knows that being paralyzed by what ifs was a thing that cowards do, and Bob was no longer a coward. Never again, especially not with you. He wanted your company tonight. Your hands on his body, his tongue licking every crevice of your skin. He wanted to make love to you for hours, and Go dammit he was going to be the one to initiate this time.
“I want you.” He’ll say when he gets you alone, and he’s surprised by how steady his voice is. How strong he feels when your half-lidded eyes meet his, and your body subconsciously moves closer.
He feels goosebumps rise over your arms as he pulls you in for a deep and longing kiss, and makes a mental note of all the different ways your body responds to him. How cute you look when you wait for him to make the next move, how good it feels to take the lead for once.
-Bucky Barnes/ The Winter Soldier
Being with you as long as he has, Bucky learns one thing: there is a time for affection, and there is a time for sex.
You’ve both reached a flow state now, in which Bucky doesn’t need to tell you how he feels, especially in situations where actions speak so much louder than words. When he sees your bedroom eyes piercing into his, when he sees your breathing hitch and deepen in a way that mirrors his own. When he sees your eyes roam over his body hungrily, pausing for a moment to appreciate the growing bulge in his pants…
Why verbalize his attraction, when instead he can cross the room in 3 strides, pull you against his chest, and kiss you so hard your legs give out? When he can lift you up in his arms and press you against the wall as he fucks you senseless?
Make no mistake though, Bucky is a gentleman. Just because you have your steamy moments doesn’t mean he’s completely lost the skill of telling his lover how much he wants them.
“Come here.” He’ll murmur, his hand reaching out to you. He’ll kiss each knuckle before his lips slowly make their way to your wrist, up your arm, your shoulder, your neck. He’ll take his time, telling you in-between soft kisses that he wants you, and nothing else.
Summary: Your gift makes sleep difficult. Luckily, Bob is there to guide you through it.
Warnings: 18+, smut, Thunderbolts* spoilers, kissing, handjob, hurt/comfort, nightmares, reader has power of feeling other's emotions, friends to lovers, sexual innuendos, talk of sex, Bob is kind of a sub but not entirely, pet name (pretty boy)
Word count: 6.8k
A/N: Lewis Pullman, my love, you have charmed me with another character of yours named Bob. We knew this was coming.
One thing that the New Avengers had in common was nightmares. You all had them. It was worse for some than others. But it was terrible for you most of all. Being able to feel other people's emotions meant that the feelings everybody experienced during their nightmares would rocket through you as well.
This caused a lot of sleepless nights for you. Laying awake in bed, sweating from the shared anxiety that would travel through the other members of your team and land in you as their final destination. At least when you were awake you could find something to distract yourself from the emotion. It pained you to know that your friends went through it every night but when you managed to sleep through it, all it would do is influence your own nightmares. You'd find yourself dreaming up your own worst fears with the horrors of your friends' lives mixed in.
It was a particularly bad night, all of them having bad dreams which only filled your body with sadness and anxiety. You stuck headphones over your ears, music turned up loud to blast through your head in an attempt to block out some of the feelings. It only helped a little. You stared at the wall opposite your bed, trying to think of better things and trying to latch onto any sort of feeling. You were getting nothing. Either everybody was having a bad night or no positive emotions were strong enough to reach you in the moment. It sucked.
A few hours went by, your eyes blurring with exhaustion as you continued to stare. The emotions weren't dying down, only going through fluctuations where everybody's sleep cycles would circle around. There was a tugging at the side of your head, like something else was trying to get in but you couldn't quite manage to get a latch on it. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, only opening them when the tugging got stronger.
You squinted at your door, trying to figure out whether it was your tired brain making you see things or whether there actually was a shadow moving underneath your door. Taking a deep breath in a bid to relax, you used your gift to reach out. Then you felt it. A different type of anxiety, it was more like a quiet concern rather than fear and nerves.
You ripped the headphones from your head and sat up straighter, surprised when there was a tentative knock on your door. "Hello?"
"Hi." The voice was timid. "It's- it's Bob."
You let out a soft sigh of relief. It was only Bob. You clambered out of bed and padded towards your door, opening it with a tired smile. "Hey, Bob. What can I help you with?"
He blinked back at you, his hair mussed up and clothes crinkled from sleep. "Your light was on."
You frowned. "Uh, yes."
"It's the middle of the night." He added on, hands twisting together into the hem of his shirt.
You realised he was worried about you and wondering why you were awake in the middle of the night. "Yeah, uh, the team dream rather restlessly. And- and I can feel it."
"Oh." He nodded, suddenly remembering what your gift entailed. "That's horrible."
You shrugged. "I'm used to it. But thank you for checking on me. That's sweet of you."
The apples of his cheeks bloomed pink, blood rushing to his face. "No- no problem. Just wanted to see if you were okay."
It was then that you realised you suddenly felt better. Bob's concern was a nicer feeling than the nightmares everyone else was going through. And when he'd blushed you felt another emotion, a warmer emotion.
"I appreciate that, Bob. Thank you." You smiled at him, pleased when he offered a small smile back. That also improved your mood. "You're making me feel a lot better actually."
"I am?" He seemed surprised, hands dropping to his sides.
"Yes, you're a lot calmer than everyone else right now and it feels good." You paused, looking him up and down. "Can you- could you maybe stay with me for a little while?"
"Oh! Yes. Yes, of course." He shifted from foot to foot, glancing over your shoulder at your room. "Um, why?"
"Because I'm tired of feeling anxious from everyone else. We can just sit for a few minutes and then you can go back to your room. If that's okay?"
He nodded and took a step towards you. "Sure, for as long as you want."
Bob really was sweet, his awkward demeanour only the surface of how lovely he really was. It was difficult to believe that he was technically the same guy who had killed half of New York only a couple of months ago. He really wasn't that person, and never had been. Since then, he'd quickly become one of your favourite people and you didn't see that changing any time soon. He was just the kind of person you wanted to keep around, so worthy of love and protection.
You tilted your head backwards and opened your door slightly wider. "Come on in then. We can sit on my bed."
His blue eyes widened for a moment before shuffling towards you, bare feet sliding against the floor. You shut the door behind him, gesturing towards your bed to offer him a seat when he hesitated in the middle of your room.
"It won't bite." You snorted, stopping next to him. "You can just sit on the edge if it makes you uncomfortable."
"No, it's not that. I just don't want to intrude into your space." He glanced at you from from the corner of his eye.
"I wouldn't have invited you in if you could do that." You replied, walking around the side of your bed to sit back down in the spot you had been before. You pointed at the space next to you. "I don't bite either."
A small smile graced his face as he went to the other side of the bed to sit next to you. Bob rested against the headboard, staring at the same wall you had been before he'd arrived.
"So... do we chat? Or something?" He asked, head flopping to look at you.
You resisted the urge to push his hair out of his face so you could see his sweet face in all of its glory. He really did make you feel better with his mere presence. You'd never experienced that with someone before.
"We can, if you want. Or we can just sit quietly."
He pushed his own hair out of his eyes, revealing the baby blues to you again. "What were you doing before I knocked?"
"I was listening to music. To try- to try and block it out."
"Was it working?"
"No." You shook your head. "But you're working."
He looked away from you and you panicked, scared that that had been too much. It often freaked people out when you reminded them you could feel all of their emotions. But then you felt it. Bob was happy.
You inched slightly closer to him. "Feels nice when you're happy. It's warm."
He looked back at you. "Warm?"
"And soft. Most people feel harsher when they're happy, in an excitable way. But not you. It's difficult to explain." You closed your eyes, a pleased smile on your lips. "I like the way it feels."
Bob's breathing grew heavier, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I'm glad."
You hummed lowly, your heart rate slowing the more you relaxed. You hadn't realised it had been thundering against your rib cage for the majority of the night. As you calmed down, you grew more and more fatigued. Bob's effect on you was quick and he could only watch as you started to fall asleep. He didn't want to disturb you, it was clear how exhausted you were. He'd seen the way you would move sluggishly on the days when you hadn't slept very well. It hadn't quite clicked in his head why you'd been like that but it was all adding up now. You had always been so kind to him that he hated to see you struggle. You didn't deserve that. So if all he could do to help was sit by your side so you could sleep peacefully, then he was all too happy to do that.
When you awoke the next morning, you were startled by what greeted you when you opened your eyes. Bob was laying down beside you, mouth slightly agape and quiet snores leaving him. He really was rather lovely to look at. He had a delicate face, his features rather soft. And that was only increased by the peace that radiated off of him during his slumber.
The feeling that was trickling through you was new, and difficult to comprehend. You'd always been surrounded by people with big characters, their lives usually motivated by some sort of misery. You couldn't complain, you were the same. But it meant that the emotions that you received in response would be equally as agonising. They had their high moments, of course. Evenings the team spent together in the tower when you ate dinner, played games and watched movies were usually far more pleasant. But those were only fleeting moments.
Bob was a breath of fresh air. He certainly wasn't the happiest person you'd ever known, especially when you first met. But because he was rather easy to please, the simplest of compliments making him practically glow, it meant that you often found yourself also feeling good around him. You tried not to take advantage of that but because he was also just kind of wonderful you found yourself enchanted by him.
You watched him sleep, trying not to move so as not to disturb him. But he probably sensed your gaze in his slumber as it didn't take long before he stirred. He murmured something lowly as he opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming in through your windows, and stretched. When his eyes landed on you he offered a timid smile.
"Good morning." You whispered, propping your chin on your hand as you looked down at him.
"G'morning." His voice was gruff, even lower than it usually was.
"Did you stay all night?" You asked, suddenly realising that he was underneath the blankets.
"Yeah, I hope that's okay." He turned on his side. "You fell asleep and I didn't want to disturb you if I left. Especially since everyone's emotions were getting to you."
You grinned at him. "You really are rather sweet, Bob."
He rolled away from you, groaning into the pillow beneath him. "Thank you."
You laughed and sat up as he did. "No, thank you. I appreciate this. It was nice of you."
"You don't need to thank me." He stood up and turned to look at you. "Do you want to go have breakfast? I hide the good cereal behind the pots and pans."
Affection spiralled through you, he was a great friend and you were so thankful to have him.
"Is that why I can never find it? You keep it hidden?" You started following him out of your room, grabbing your robe as you walked.
"Yeah..." He let out a short giggle. "Alexei keeps finding it though so I have to keep changing the hiding spot."
You smiled at the back of his head as you followed him to the kitchen, ready to start your day feeling more well rested than you had in years.
After a busy day spent with Bob doing chores around the tower and just hanging out, you were ready to go to bed. You were tired from the day's activities and needed some rest. But Bob could tell something was off. As each member of the team headed off to bed one by one, he watched as you slowly curled in on yourself where you were sat on the couch. It didn't take him long to realise what was wrong.
"Is it bad again?" He asked you, voice hushed to keep it between the two of you. He wasn't entirely sure how the super soldier serum worked on the three members of the team who had it, but if it was anything like what he'd experienced then he didn't want to risk their enhanced senses hearing him.
"Mhmm." You nodded weakly, your head collapsing against the back of the couch.
Bob moved to sit next to you, debating whether his next offer would be too forward. But the pain on your face was unbearable for him to witness. You'd been so happy all day, the change around was horrible to see. "Would you like me to come to your room again?"
You looked up at him through your lashes, using the little energy you had to cling on to his emotions. "Yes, please."
"Okay." Bob nodded and stood up, angling his head in the direction of your room. "Let's go then."
It didn't take long for that to become the routine between you and Bob. Free days spent in the tower you'd stay by each other's sides and nights would consist of the two of you sharing your bed in order to sleep peacefully. Practically every second you spent in the tower would be with Bob. As well as being a soothing presence, he was also very funny and considerate. It took you about two days of hanging out one on one for you to decide that he was perfect in basically every way. You only hoped he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. If the emotions that radiated off of him were any indication, then he did like you. A lot.
A new feeling had started pouring out of him, you'd noticed. One that made the back of your neck tingle and your brain feel fuzzy behind the eyes. You just couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was yet.
The rest of the team didn't fail to notice how you and Bob seemed closer. Stolen glances became a regular thing, the two of you acting as if you shared a secret. They could only watch on in somewhat confused amusement as Bob would look at you first whenever someone told a joke, to see if you were laughing, and how you had started singling out Bob by name whenever you offered to make anyone else a snack or a drink, like he was suddenly your priority. The two of you would also sit next to each other during every evening the team spent together.
They all assumed something had happened between the two of you. Just what, they didn't know. You weren't exactly acting like a couple, neither of you being flirty or touching the other anymore than usual. But the dynamic had certainly changed and was clearly developing more everyday. Whatever it was, it was clearly having a positive effect on you both. Bob seemed happier, smiling more often when you were around, and his emotions directly influenced yours, you were now a lot calmer and seemed less tense. So they just continued to observe in silence, curious to see where it would lead.
When Yelena had attempted to question Bob on it he had stuttered out that it was nothing, a clear give away that it was something. And when she'd asked you, all you had done was give her a coy smile accompanied by a shrug. She just decided to be happy for the two of you.
The thing between you and Bob was going steady for a few weeks, he'd started to open up to you more and more and you clung on to every word he decided to tell you. It was nice. But things quickly changed one night.
You'd been sleeping peacefully next to each other when you'd suddenly woken up. No clear negative emotion was travelling through you and Bob was still asleep so you assumed something else had woken you up. You listened out and heard nothing so sighed and closed your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep. But you couldn't.
There was a tug at your lower stomach, a sudden ache further down. You shifted yourself, wondering if your position had you pressing on your organs strangely. But it didn't let up, and started getting more intense instead. And then you realised what it was. It was arousal. You were turned on. Puzzled, you flattened yourself on your back with a huff. What could possibly have you feeling like this? It was a normal night, sharing a bed with Bob with no disturbances other than the soft soundtrack of his breathing. Ever since you had started sharing a bed with him at night, you hadn't found yourself disrupted by the anxious feelings of the rest of your team. Bob's presence had been enough to soothe away the nerves and the fear and replaced it all with comfort and relaxation.
You glanced at Bob through the darkness, nothing seemed different with him. And then he made a noise. It was halfway between a content hum and a needy whimper. Your eyes widened in the dark as the pull in your tummy increased. It hit you all at once. Bob was having a sex dream and it was having an effect on you.
You scrunched your eyes shut, willing it to go away. Not entirely sure why you were even bothering, it had never been possible to just push the feelings away, you took a shaky breath as Bob let out another sound. This one was louder, more of a whine than anything else. Your brain felt misty, you weren't convinced whether what you were feeling was all of Bob or if it was also a combination of your own arousal at the noises he was making.
Bob was cute, you'd always thought it, but due to the circumstances through which you'd met you hadn't thought it appropriate to ever try to pursue anything. So the idea had died down and you hadn't even considered it in months. As the two of you had steadily gotten closer, you started to treasure him as a friend and nothing else. Bob was sweet, that was undeniable, and you had grown rather fond of him. And now here he was in your bed having a sex dream that was making you wet between your thighs.
The final straw was the desperate moan that rumbled from Bob's chest and out of his mouth. You shot up in bed, switching the bedside lamp on and tapped him on the shoulder.
He didn't stir. You envied how deeply he slept.
You poked his arm, surprised when you hit solid bicep. "Bob."
He grumbled and turned his face into the pillow.
"Bob." You sighed, shaking him gently.
"Mm?" The sound was questioning but had an undertone to it that reminded you of the sounds he'd previously been making.
"Bob, wake up." You said, louder than before. You were hoping that the feeling of being turned on would fade away as he came to but you were wrong.
As Bob's eyes slowly blinked open and landed on your face, the feeling in your core pulsed for a moment as his face turned a rosy shade of pink.
He shuffled around until he managed to sit up next to you, looking around the room to see if there was some sort of problem. "Is something wrong?"
The sincerity in his eyes was infuriating. But only because it made your breathing go ragged as you took in his messy hair and sleepy eyes. His flushed complexion wasn't helping and you didn't fail to notice how he cautiously tugged the blanket over his lap.
You decided to be blunt with it, not being able to concentrate on anything else other than the ocean between your legs. You hadn't even known it was possible to experience the physical things the people around you were going through. You had only ever felt the emotions of others. The closest you had ever gotten to this was being able to tell when people were injured or sick - people had very distinct emotions when they were in pain. But this was a whole new thing.
"You were having a sex dream."
Bob looked away from you. "H-how... how do you know that? Did I- did I say something?"
He looked nervous, more nervous than you'd seen him in weeks, and you could feel it burning underneath the state of arousal he was still in.
"No." You rasped, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. "I can feel it."
His head snapped in your direction, eyes going wide. "You what?"
Your chest was heaving. "I can feel it."
"What do you mean?"
You laughed lowly, unsure of how you could explain it. "I'm turned on right now because you are."
"Oh." The flush spread to his ears, his voice barely a squeak. "Sorry?"
There was a momentary ache in your chest at his apology, it was phrased like a question but his body language gave away how genuine it was. He was timid, that was for certain, and always feared he was going to do the wrong thing. Bob was scared of rejection and being abandoned. It was why he so often would tell people when he'd completed a chore or done something helpful like the laundry or the dishes. He felt the need to prove why you should all keep him around. He seemed unaware that you kept him around because you all loved him, and it wasn't conditional based on how useful he was.
You shifted towards him, hands reaching out for a second before awkwardly hovering in front of him. Maybe it wasn't the best time to be touching him. "No, no. You don't need to be sorry. At all. I just..."
Bob stared at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence.
"It's just an unusual situation. I've never felt this before."
He swallowed thickly. "You haven't? But I thought you felt everything other people felt."
You nodded. "I do. But emotions. Not physical things."
His eyes flickered up and down your body quickly. "So you're- you're more than feeling it?"
"I assume I'm experiencing the equivalent of whatever you are." You glanced at the tent in the blanket covering his lap. "Which is a physical reaction in the body."
"What you're saying is..." He didn't seem to know how to word it, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.
"Yes, that's what I'm saying." You clenched your thighs together, being careful with your words since you didn't want to freak him out. "I woke you up so it wouldn't be awkward."
He seemed to deflate slightly, nodding in acceptance. "Awkward."
You smiled softly at him, dipping your head down to meet his eyes. "Not because of you. But because me being awake and horny next to you when you're asleep is... odd."
"No more odd than me having a sex dream in your bed." He mumbled, a small smile turning the corners of his mouth up.
A gentle giggle escaped you, glad he was easing up enough to joke. "It's not like you can choose when you have a sex dream. It's okay."
"I know. But I'm still sorry." He leaned towards you. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."
"Bob, you could never." You mirrored him, leaning in. "I'm just wondering how we're going to solve this."
He blinked and sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"
You took a deep breath. "Well, considering I seem to be feeling whatever you are then there's a possibility that if you decide to go and... sort yourself out-" You sent a meaningful look towards his lap. "-then I will also feel it."
His eyes widened. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh." You repeated. "But I also don't want to leave either of us sexually frustrated. That's never fun. So..."
"So..." He seemed to think for a moment. "Are you suggesting that...?"
You shrugged. "Some variation."
"Variation?" Bob was full of questions, finding himself doing nothing but being confused.
"If you don't want to actually do anything then mutual masturbation is always good."
Bob spluttered, taken aback by that answer.
"Or not." You added in, trying to determine what his real reaction was. His outward appearance seemed reluctant but your body throbbed at the prospect, which you knew reflected his feelings. That meant nothing though. If he said no then that was all that mattered.
"No, it's-" He cut himself off, a quiet whine leaving his mouth.
You shifted, thighs clenching. "Bob, I beg of you not to make that noise."
"Sorry." He mumbled.
"If you're unsure then we can start with something slower." You suggested, easing into it.
"Like what?"
You shrugged. "Kissing."
He turned bright pink again. Affection blossomed through your chest, he was so sweet. As shy as he was, you could see the sudden sparkle in his eyes at the idea of kissing you. It made you curious about something, something you'd been suspecting since he had first woken up.
"Bob? Who were you dreaming about?" You asked and watched him grapple for an answer that seemed to evade him. "Was it about me?"
He paused his search for reasoning, turning to look at you slowly before nodding. "Yeah."
You smiled. "I'm flattered."
He rolled his eyes, almost self deprecatingly. "Yeah, okay."
You frowned. "If I wasn't flattered then I'd kick you out of this room for being a creep. But I'm not doing that, am I? No. I'm waiting for you to make a decision. Either you stay and we make out. Or you leave and I hump a pillow."
His jaw dropped open, drawing your eyes to his lips.
"Up to you, Bob." You scooted closer to him, dropping your voice down low. "I'm waiting."
Before he could respond, you flinched. Your body recoiled from the door and towards the headboard.
"What's wrong?" Bob sounded panicked.
"Someone's having a nightmare. A bad one." You groaned. "It's a weird sensation feeling their anxiety whilst also being turned on."
Bob only looked at you for a second. "Will I make it better?"
You smiled at him, thankful he'd finally seemed to have caught on to the fact that he was the only thing that managed to soothe you. "You always make me better."
He softened, whole body relaxing as his face turned red with a different emotion. That's when he seemed to make up his mind, shuffling down so he was laying down again next to you and patting the spot directly in front of him. "Turn the light off."
"You sure?" You asked, already reaching for the lamp.
He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath as you settled down in front of him. You were suddenly face to face, but only for a moment as the next second the light was off and you were plunged into darkness again.
"Bob?"
"Yeah?"
"You're cute when you blush." You eased out a hand, gently cupping his cheek.
His own hand inched towards you under the blankets, fingertips grazing the fabric of your shirt. "I think you're the only person who thinks that."
"I find that unlikely. But if so then I'm happy to keep telling you."
"You're only saying that because you're turned on." He chuckled breathlessly. "Trying to get into my pants."
"Do I have to try?"
"No." His nose nudged against yours, steadily get closer and closer but not quite closing the gap.
You realised you were going to have to take that step. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes."
Bob was breathless before your lips met his, so when the collision finally happened it felt as if all oxygen had left him. But that didn't matter. He didn't need oxygen. All he needed was you.
You were gentle at first, testing the waters. But it only took about two seconds before Bob whined, the sound pulsing through you, so your mouth opened up like you'd lost control and your tongue swiped across his lips, teasing him. Bob's hands knotted into the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. His tongue curled against yours, a whimper leaving him.
You smiled into the kiss, thumb swiping over his cheek to keep it soft. You were overcome with lust but wanted the same mood that had floated between you and Bob up until this point. It didn't need to turn aggressive in any way now that you were taking it a step further.
The hem of your shirt cut into your back as Bob's grip on it tightened, his feet pressing into yours so the two of you started playing footsie as you kissed. Bob tasted sweet, you noted, probably about as sweet as he was in general. You suckled his bottom lip into your mouth, revelling in the moan he let out. You pushed yourself closer to him, nose cramming against his cheek as his hair tickled your forehead.
You pulled away from him to catch your breath, planting a quick kiss on his lips as he chased you. "Hm, slow down. We have time."
"Wanted this for so long." He admitted in the haze of passion that was swimming around the two of you.
The confession surprised you. "Oh, yeah?"
He backed up a little to look at you in the darkness as he gave an affirmative hum. That's when you felt it. The tingle on the back of your neck and the fuzziness behind your eyes.
"What is that?" You asked, moving your face closer to him to get a better feel for it.
"What's what?" He sounded genuinely confused, voice kind as he asked.
"This new thing you keep feeling? Like a tingle on the back of the neck and a fuzz behind the eyes. What is it? I've never felt it before."
The intensity you were looking at him with was amusing to Bob, how you seemed so unaware when usually it would be the other way around with the two of you. He knew exactly what you were referring to.
So he only smiled as he told you. "It's the feeling I get when I'm close to you."
Your breath got caught in your throat, eyes searching his in the dark to see how genuine he was being. When you detected nothing but honesty in his face, you dove forward and kissed him again. Despite your initial desire to keep it as relaxed as possible, you couldn't help the sudden craving you had for him. It was raw and primal, a yearning feeling.
Bob's pelvis rutted into yours, a reminder of the thing that got you into this position to begin with. He was still painfully hard and, based on the way you were feeling, that wasn't going to change any time soon. Your teeth and tongues clashed over and over, Bob making happy little noises at every press of your lips. He was insatiable, chasing you every time you decided the two of you needed to breathe. But he didn't seem to have the confidence to touch you anymore, not going any further than the vise like grip he still had on your shirt.
So you decided to make the move again. "Can I touch you?"
He nodded rapidly, his voice desperate. "Please."
The mewl of his voice was intoxicating, giving you permission to let your hand drift down the front of his torso. His abdomen was solid underneath his shirt but, as tempting as it was, you had another destination in mind. When you hit the waistband of his pants you paused, fingers toying with the strings that kept them fastened.
"Are you sure?" You asked, double checking that he was positive he wanted to take it this far.
He barely pulled away from your lips to answer. "Yes, I'm sure."
That was all you needed. You pulled on the string, undoing it, and let your hand slide into the front of his pants. You didn't have the patience to start with any over the clothes touching. Bob's size was somewhat surprising, he was big, which meant that your hand met the velvety skin of his cock pretty much as soon as you'd breached the waistline of his pants. He whimpered into your mouth at the feeling of the silky skin of your palm.
He was keen, his body reacting immediately with a buck of his hips into your fist. You started with a slow pace, moving your hand up and down carefully to get a rhythm going. His precum worked well as a natural lubricant, making both your skin and his slick. It was only a reminder of the wetness between your own legs. But that thought escaped you pretty quickly when Bob continued to make pretty little sounds into your mouth. He throbbed in your hand, pace of his thrusts increasing when you tightened your grip.
You kept kissing him, shivering as the feeling of his arousal travelled through you as well. An overwhelming curiosity was plaguing you as you wondered whether you'd feel it when he eventually came. That became less important when Bob's hands finally untangled from your shirt and one of them crept up the plains of your torso to start groping your chest through your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, hand momentarily stilling in place. That didn't last long when he whined into your mouth, a mumble begging for more leaving him.
Your fist pumped his cock harder and faster, drawing him closer and closer to orgasm.
"Come on, pretty boy. I know you're close."
He whimpered at the name you'd given him, the fact that he liked praise was something you quickly noted in your head. Bob kissed you harder, the desperation for closeness evident.
It didn't take much longer before he started twitching in your hand, hot ropes of cum spurting out of him and landing on the sheets between you. You pumped him a few more times, milking him for everything he was worth. A train of whimpers and moans tumbled out of mouth, filling the space between you, as his eyes scrunched shut with pleasure. You kissed him through it, wanting to keep him close as you were feeling his orgasm yourself. The feeling rocketed through you, a sense of ecstasy as it poured out of Bob and into you. Your prediction was right, you did indeed feel it when he did. This was a new development to your gift that had you curious.
Once he'd calmed down from the high, Bob's eyes blinked open again as he looked at you. "I'm- I'm sorry."
You frowned. "Why are you sorry?"
"Because I- and you didn't-" He cut himself off, distressed. "I thought we were going to-"
You eyed the mess on the sheets between you. "Believe me, what just happened is not an issue."
"Are you still... feeling it?"
"Kind of. Less so now that you've come. But I'm still horny. Especially after that." You sighed. "Can we keep kissing?"
Bob wasn't sure why you'd even asked. It wasn't like there was any scenario where he'd say no to that. So he nodded at you, assuming that your eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to see him. He was right. You manoeuvred yourself over the mess on the sheets and hovered yourself over him.
He looked up at you, the sparkle from before twinkling in his eyes. He finally allowed himself to touch you, not realising that he'd groped you in the heat of the moment before, and placed his hands on your hips before letting them skate up your waist, then your rib cage, before going over your shoulders and letting them land on either side of your face. Then he pulled you down to kiss him.
You weren't sure how long that went on for exactly, only really aware of anything other than Bob existing when he'd asked whether you wanted to change your bed sheets. You'd only told him it could wait until the morning and that the two of you would just have to stick to his side of the bed. At some point his hands had drifted below your waistline, drawing your own orgasm from you. It surprised you how adept he was at it, but you figured he had a past long before you'd even met him.
What surprised you both was Bob had moaned as you did, blinking in shock as you came.
"I felt that." He stated, mouth hanging open.
"What do you mean?" You asked, still breathless from the orgasm.
"I felt that." He repeated.
A frown wrinkled your brows. "You mean... like how I feel things?"
"I think so."
That was another thing that had never happened until Bob.
"I didn't know that was possible." You thought about it for a second before shrugging. "Another thing for tomorrow."
And then you kept kissing him. That went on for a while until the two of you grew sleepy, eventually drifting off in each other's arms.
When you woke up the next morning you found yourself intertwined with Bob, limbs tangled together. You hummed happily and snuggled closer to him.
"G'morning." He grumbled into your ear.
You smiled at the sound of his voice and turned your head to look at him. "Good morning. You're awake before me."
"Shocking, I know." He huffed, hand stroking up and down the length of your arm.
"What's the time?"
"A little after nine."
Your eyes widened and you shot out of bed, scrambling to find your robe. "Shit, it's late."
Bob followed you out of bed, feeling bad that he'd let you sleep in. But you had just looked so peaceful. "Sorry, I should've woken you."
"No, don't apologise." You beamed at him. "Shouldn't apologise for the way I slept."
He watched you slide a pair of socks on. "How'd you sleep?"
"Good." You grinned. "The best. You?"
"Good too."
You huffed. "You always sleep good."
There was a moment of silence before Bob seemed to decide what he was going to say.
"Do you want to know why I sleep so easily?"
You nodded, always just figuring the amnesia that came with what happened to him meant that he just didn't have bad dreams.
"Because I dream about you." He confessed quietly. "Even when I'm not having sex dreams."
Your shoulders hunched as your skin prickled with the burn of self-consciousness. There was no way he was telling the truth. "Really?"
"I spend my days thinking about you and my nights dreaming about you." He chuckled shakily. "Even though we spend every second of every day together, I can think of nothing but you. It consumes me. You consume me."
Tears welled in your eyes. "For how long?"
"For as long as I've known you pretty much." He shrugged. "It's been very difficult sleeping next to you for these past few weeks and not telling you."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you needed me to sleep. And I was scared that you didn't feel the same way so you'd- you'd push me away and go back to restless nights." His hands started wringing together, a telltale sign of his nerves.
You choked out a teary laugh. "How could you ever think I didn't feel the same? Why do you think I spend so much time with you? Why I can't sleep unless I'm next to you?"
"My emotions calm you."
You shook your head. "You make me calm. There's something about you. There always has been. You make me feel things that nobody else ever has. I've experienced new emotions with you. As well as more feelings."
He smiled at the reference to what the two of you had done the night before. "So, what now?"
"What now?" You chortled as you repeated his words back to him. "Now you kiss me and we never stop."
Bob didn't need to be told twice.
The team noticed the moment the switch in yours and Bob's relationship flipped. All it took was one simple gesture. The group of you had been in the kitchen together, chatting about nothing in particular and Bob had been looking at you with a gooey look in his eyes as usual. But then you'd reached up, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes.
They all knew then that you'd finally taken the step towards being officially more than friends. None of them pointed it out, exchanging nothing but pleased looks with each other and enjoying the fact that neither you nor Bob seemed to be aware that the rest of them now all knew about the two of you. They weren't entirely sure that either of you cared if they knew.
And when later that evening you rested your head on Bob's shoulder during movie night, and he not very subtly grabbed your hand, they realised that the two of you definitely didn't care if they knew. You only seemed to care about each other in that moment.
Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader!
Word Count: 8,184
Smuttiness below the cut! 18+ Minors DNI! (Fingering, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Sentry makes an appearance, Dirty Talk, Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up), Hyperspermia, probably more but I don’t remember)
Author’s Note: This is from the smut prompts you guys sent me and it went off the rails evidently, so I hope y’all enjoy :) This is just pure smut with no plot which is shocking but yeah, I was in a mood lol.
You had found yourself in Bob’s bedroom for the fourth time that week, intertwined with him while the two of you were in another one of your breathless battles that neither of you ever surrendered to.
There was no gentle beginning to it. No lingering conversation or careful negation of who would lead and who would follow. The question was always answered through your touches–through the impatient gripping of hands on hips, fingers clawing and scratching the skin beneath your clothes, with mouths colliding hard enough to leave your lips tender, raw and wet afterward. It was decided in every shove and answering pull, in the gasps and quick breaths when one of you managed to gain an advantage–no matter how temporary it may have been.
Tonight, Bob had swung open the door before you even managed to knock with an expression that was almost deceptively mild, even though his heart had been galloping for the past hour as he paced his bedroom and listened for your specific soft footsteps that would pad down the hall when things in the Watchtower got quiet enough.
His hair had still been damp from the shower he took after training, his light-brown strands falling in loose waves around his face and curling slightly against the back of his neck where they were still drying–distinctly darker from the water that still remained there. He wore a faded navy t-shirt that was spotted with barely noticeable droplets, and a pair of thin plaid pyjama pants to compensate for his temperature. It made him look casual–domestic even–so much so that anyone else might have mistaken him for a harmless man who didn’t harness any power apart from being a nice, down to Earth person.
But you had known better–everyone did.
The door had barely clicked shut behind you before his hands were on your waist, pulling you towards him and digging firmly into your hips, making sure your body was flush against him. His mouth descended on yours just as you opened it to speak, and the kiss he gave you contradicted every meek glance he had given you throughout the evening–every moment he had looked away too quickly whenever your eyes met across the common room.
His teeth caught your lower lip, biting down just hard enough to make your breath hitch, and he swallowed that sound as his head tilted to deepen the kiss before either of you could steal enough air to form clear thoughts. Your arms weaved around his neck and your fingers found the damp strands of hair at the nape, feeling the wetness sinking into the pads of them as you tugged, earning a small groan from Bob. His grip contracted around your hips, gathering the fabric of your shirt in his fists, pressing harder against you, and the thin cotton of his pyjama pants did little to hide how thoroughly the simple tug had affected him–feeling the semi-hardness of his length pressing into your belly.
He began moving you backward through the room, guiding you toward his bed without ever fully lifting his mouth from yours. Every step he took forward forced one from you in return, and he kept you steady whenever you stumbled, making sure your movements never faltered. You opened your mouth to him when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, letting the kiss turn wet and uncoordinated as your tongues met sloppily. His breath grew uneven, spilling hot across your skin whenever an awkward angle forced your mouths apart, but neither of you seemed capable of tolerating the separation. Because each time you broke away, Bob followed.
His nose brushed yours, his mouth finding the corner of your lips, then your jaw, giving you a moment to catch your breath, before returning to your mouth with renewed insistence. He kissed you with the hunger of someone who had spent lifetimes denying himself of even the smallest touch, despite the fact that it had been less than twenty-four hours since he had last held you in this exact room, and you relished in the fact that he wanted you so badly that he could barely control himself.
When the backs of your knees struck the soft edge of the mattress you fell down onto it and Bob followed you without hesitation–not wanting the kiss to break–his body hunching as he put his knee between yours so your legs could come up to frame his hips, feeling your ankles locking behind his lower back, urging him to climb on with you. He pushed your body up the mattress by your hips, messing up the uniformity of his duvet in the process, and when he was satisfied with the space he created, he joined you.
The bed dipped beneath your combined weight, its springs giving a quiet protest as he settled between your thighs and moved one of his hands from your hip to brace beside your head so he wouldn’t crush you completely beneath him. It was a thoughtful gesture, something that he never failed to miss because he knew that while he looked meek, beneath all his clothes he had the body of a god–and the power of one to boot.
He didn’t want to risk hurting you in any way, especially when there was always the fragile line the two of you toed when it came to these fleeting moments of intimacy. He thankfully never lost control, but it didn’t mean that he never felt Sentry trying to break through the surface any time you touched him, or kissed him, or moaned quietly in his ear when he was inside you–when you were trying to keep the rest of the Watchtower from hearing the desperate noises that escaped either of you–or when he would cum inside you and bite your shoulder to muffle his grunts and the wave of power that coursed through his veins like an inferno that couldn’t be put out. Even through the struggle though, he still managed to push Sentry down, just so he could keep these moments exclusively between the two of you.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, palm gliding over the soft bare skin of your waist. The heat of him was searing against yours as he ran his thumb slowly along the curve of your stomach before finding the lace trim of your underwear–tracing it without dipping beneath the material. The denial of his touch felt deliberate, and just as you raised your hips to attempt to seek some sort of friction Bob pressed his hips firmly between your thighs to hold you still–pinning you down on the mattress to keep you from squirming. His rough thumb skimmed the lace again, hearing you whine against his mouth at the teasing, as your stomach clenched at the burning urge to fight against the weight he had on your body.
You pulled the hair at the nape of his neck again, dragging your nails along his scalp in an attempt to even out the score, hearing a strained, involuntary moan breaking his throat and vibrating through your mouth, as his body tensed above you, and his hand tightened hard enough on your hip to promise faint bruises along your skin by the morning. It was a fracture in his composure, and you smiled into the kiss, satisfied that you had such control over him.
When his grip loosened, you took advantage of the opening by lifting your hips towards his, dragging the damp heat of your clothed core along the hard length of his erection that was trapped behind the thin fabric his pyjama pants, feeling the way it twitched at the contact–at the grind that made everything in his mind jumble into one conjoined thought.
Bob tore his mouth away from the kiss quickly, cinching his eyes shut as his jaw locked so abruptly that the muscles jumped beneath the skin. You did it again, slower this time, letting the pressure build, feeling his fingers flexing and digging into your flesh, trying to keep you from moving, but there was no use, you already seized what little power you had, and you were going to ride it out until he forced you to stop.
“Do-Don’t,” He warned, though the word lacked any authority when his body pushed down to meet you–like he was magnetized to the warmth that was seeping through the barriers between your pelvis’. You gave him another kiss, smiling against his mouth.
“Don’t what?” You asked innocently, conjuring him to open his eyes. His pupils had nearly consumed the blue of his irises whole, but something warmer, shimmered at their edges–a diffused haze of gold that surfaced and disappeared with each uneven breath he took. Unfocused, and completely consumed with lust.
“You know what.” He shot back, feeling your fingers sliding deeper into his hair to give another lazy pull to the strands. His shoulders trembled, and his breathing turned shallow before another sound escaped him. A small crease between his eyebrows began to form–the same one that appeared when the pleasure became too overwhelming for him to conceal. The tilt of his head gave you easy access to the line of his throat, and you leaned up and pressed your open mouth against the warm skin beneath his jaw, tasting the clean saltiness of his sweat, and the faint residual soap from the shower. He let out a shaky sigh, a helpless one, almost like he was slowly giving into you and turning pliant beneath your lips
“You’re making me lo-lose it, Y/N…” He confessed, as your tongue dragged along the stubble, leaving a trail of saliva that sank into his flesh. You loosened your fingers from his hair bringing your free hand up to push the damp strands away from his face, noticing his lashes fluttering at the tenderness of your touch.
“I don’t have to make you do anything…You were already losing it when you were pacing around this room waiting for me.” You whispered, your breath cooling the trail of saliva you left, feeling him shudder again while you pulled back to look up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes, tempting him to take the bait you had laid out–hoping that he would fall for it.
He stared at you for half a breath, and before he could even think he kissed you hard enough to force your head deeper into the duvet, devouring the words right out of your mouth. His breathing had gone ragged, and finally, the hand that had been tracing the lace of your underwear slipped beneath the material.
His fingers met the slick heat of you and a broken moan tore from your throat, as he drank it down and relished in the way he was able to turn the tables so efficiently. A smug curve touched the corner of his mouth, sliding two fingertips through your folds to gather your arousal on them before circling your entrance, feeling the pulsing heat that begged to be filled by him. You wanted to press down towards his touch–to force his fingers into you because you were so desperate to feel something–but just as you were about to, he trailed his soaked fingers up to your clit and pressed firmly on the swollen bundle of nerves.
The sparks that ignited up your spine was immediate–like you had been touched by something electric–and your hips jerked up into his hand, craving the friction that it provided. He held you down with the weight of his body, keeping you locked in place, as he found a steady circular rhythm–making sure his touch was firm enough to keep you in this desperate state, and patient enough to make you want more.
He pulled away from the kiss and tallied your reactions through his half-lidded eyes, watching as your lashes fluttered, and how your swollen lips parted on laboured breaths, and the way your brows pinched when he angled his fingers just right to rub a tighter circle along the uncovered nerves. He could hear the way your heart was practically beating out of your chest, and how the heat of your body had raised just enough to start forming a line of sweat along your hairline–and instantly he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you.
Your hands dragged down the front of his shirt–scratching against the cotton in a silent plea to feel him, to bask in the warmth of his skin, to relish in his body. He knew the natural progression of your desperation–how you would squirm and pull and tug at him until he gave you what you needed–and instantly he sat back just enough to remove his hand from your underwear to yank the shirt over his head and toss it aside, exposing the broad, powerful lines of his chest and abs to you, showing off the uneven flush that had crept across his body.
Your eyes moved over him freely, cataloguing every shift of muscle beneath his skin, watching the way his abdomen tightened with each uneven breath, and the faint sheen of sweat that was beading and gathering in the defined grooves of his chest. Usually Bob would have found a way to fold himself back against you, to hide from your silent, praiseful gaze, but seeing the pure want in your expression seemed to have froze him in his spot above you.
Your hands came up to settle on his waist, as your fingertips traced the scattered freckles there, before sliding higher to let your nails lightly score the warm flank of his back, feeling goosebumps raising under the touch. A mischievous smile pulled at your mouth, your teeth catching your lower lip as you brought one hand across the hard plane of his stomach, taking in every subtle twitch the muscles elicited while you followed the natural ridges of them, pulling a low sound from his throat.
Bob pushed your shirt upward, his palms spreading hot against your belly until they settled just beneath your breasts.
“Should ta-take this off,” He murmured, as a shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You sat up just enough to strip the shirt over your head quickly, sending it to the floor to join his with a careless throw, and just as your skin met the warmth of the bedroom you hooked your arms under his and pulled him down towards you, needing to be crushed by the full weight of him, and to feel the solid heat of his chest against your breasts. He gave a breathless, startled laugh as he settled over you, blanketing your body completely with his while he adjusted to make sure he could hold himself up just enough so you could breathe–putting more weight on his lower half to compensate for the position.
His mouth found the side of your throat immediately, parting wide so he could place wet kisses over the skin before licking your pulse point, feeling the rapid flutter beneath his tongue. It was a joy to realize how worked up he made you just through simple little touches–and how easy it was to shut off the part of you that always wanted to be in control. A thought crossed his mind about how it would be if he ever did the same–how the entire room would probably be left in a state of disaster by the time he was done–and he couldn’t help but shiver in fear. He was already playing with fire by giving Sentry just a hint of the experience he got with you–by allowing him to look through his eyes, and locking him in as an observer. The temptation to just let it all go was hanging in the midst of the sounds you were making–those breathy little whimpers that always seemed to escape you no matter how much you tried to suppress them–though he pushed it all down to focus on you.
His hand slipped back down between your legs, bypassing the waistband of your underwear once more, only this time two thick fingers pressed inside you in one smooth stroke. You were already so wet that your body took them in easily–fully prepared for the intrusion–but the stretch it provided was still enough to make your breath catch in your throat. Your back arched off the mattress, pulling him deeper, pressing your chest against his, and he breathed out a sigh as your walls fluttered and clenched around him. His fingers curled, searching with careful strokes until they found the soft rigid spot that made your thighs lock around his hips and your ankles dig deeper into his back.
“Fuck–Bob–“ You choked out, as you tipped your head further back into the duvet, giving him more access to your throat, needing to feel his lips everywhere. He took the invitation, peppering kisses lower along the column of it, grazing his teeth over the thin skin at the base of your neck while his fingers set a steady rhythm–slow, thorough thrusts that filled you again and again without fail, while he continuously curled his fingers to add to the overwhelming pleasure that washed over you. His thumb found your clit, covering it completely, and he began to circle it in the same unhurried cadence he had done before, never quite giving you enough pressure to tip over the edge, only enough to keep the tension coiling tighter in your belly. You could feel your muscles tightening as your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding onto the only tangible thing that was keeping you tethered to your conscious state.
You bit back a whine that was aching to tear itself from your throat, focusing on the wet slide of his fingers, the heat of his mouth that laid kisses on your skin, the way he shifted down your body with the ease of a man who had done this so many times before. He licked a trail along the slop of your breast, sucking on the plush flesh just enough to leave a faint mark, then closed his lips around one peaked nipple, letting out a soft moan at the way it filled his mouth. Your nails dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders as he flicked his tongue across the bud, and he couldn’t help but glance up at you through his half-lidded eyes–wanting to absorb every little reaction you gave.
You squirmed against him, hips lifting to follow every withdrawal of his fingers, wordlessly begging for him to go faster, to fill you again, to give everything to you. But Bob refused, keeping the measured pace, determined to unravel you completely before he satisfied himself.
He released your nipple with a soft, wet sound, then blew a cool stream of air across the slick peak, watching goosebumps rise across the soft curve of your breast, prickling your skin and tightening it. He watched them form with a smile before trailing open-mouth kisses over your sternum until he reached your other breast, licking around the sensitive tissue and nipping at it–teasing you.
When he closed his lips around the nipple he ground his hips hard into the mattress, emitting a low, muffled moan that vibrated against your skin as he sought a reprieve for the ache his erection was causing him, hoping the pressure could hold him off from cumming right then and there–knowing that his orgasm was hanging by a thread.
He added a third finger then, determined to finish you, and the stretch burned–filling you to the brink of it almost being overwhelming to your senses–before it all melted into pure heat. Your nails dragged down the length of his back, digging far more deeper than the last time, leaving raised red lines across his pale flesh that would still be visible in the morning. He grunted against your breast, sucking hard as his breath grew rougher with every thrust of his hand.
The wet sounds emitting from his fingers working inside you filled the quiet room, and your hips moved freely now, meeting the thrusts to drive him deeper, wanting his touch to fill you completely, to hit every spot that made your mind turn to jelly. Bob lifted his head just enough for you to see the gold flaring brighter through his lashes, how it was almost overtaking the oceanic blue that you were so used to. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in the fine tremors that were running through the muscles of his arms and back, and in the way he kept grinding against the mattress, with helpless little sounds escaping his throat despite his best efforts to be quiet. He squeezed his eyes shut then, hollowing his cheeks around the hardened bud against his tongue, as he worked his fingers faster, curling them on every stroke so he could hear the symphony of whines that left your mouth.
You needed more–even though everything he was doing would normally have you toppling over the edge of orgasm within minutes–and you were desperate for it, just like he evidently was.
“Bob…Oh my god–“ You whimpered, the words coming out strained from your throat, as your head tipped to the side, feeling a dizzy spell coming over you which blurred your vision to the point of only being able to see the outlines of the objects that surrounded you. Your ankles that were locked behind his back shifted, pushing the waistband of his pyjama pants until they were halfway down his ass, attempting to free him, and he moaned, pulling off your nipple harshly.
“Y/N…I’m trying to ge-get you off…I need to.” His voice was rough, almost pleading against your skin to let him focus because he knew that if he didn’t do this now you wouldn’t be prepared enough to take all of him–and that would only cause you discomfort. You ignored his words though, continuing to push the fabric lower while your hands slid into his hair, tangling through the strands. He opened his eyes, hearing how hard your heart was racing in your chest, becoming increasingly aware of the heat that was rising off your skin and intertwining with his, and how your body had grown slick with sweat. He had only seen you like this on a rare occasion, and evidently he had worked you up so much that there was nothing else he could do to put off this overwhelming drive you had for him.
“I…I know…I just–Fuck, I just need you inside me. Please.” You begged, feeling your throat tightening as if you were on the brink of crying from how desperately you needed him–from the frustration that was beginning to crest above the surface. He could see your glistening eyes, how they were filling to the brim with tears, and he couldn’t help but feel the sight sinking into his bones, though he still hesitated.
“…Are you sure?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice, keeping his eyes on you so he could catch even a potential of a second thought coming up behind your gaze–though there wasn’t any indication of such things. Your hands became restless in his hair, tugging and twirling the soft strands around your fingers, toying with them just to feel him shiver against you.
“Bob…I can’t wait any longer.” He gave a small nod, whispering something incoherent under his breath, before pressing one last kiss to the underside of your breast, and pushing himself back onto his calves. Your hands fell away, dropping down to your sides as you glanced at the thin fabric of his pyjama pants–seeing the dark, damp spots where precum had soaked through, and the heavy strain of his cock that was barely being contained within the confines it was behind, feeling your breath catching in your throat at the sight.
He withdrew his fingers from you slowly, dragging his soaked fingers over your clit before pulling them away completely, and the sudden emptiness made you wiggle your hips against the mattress. You felt insatiable–like Bob couldn’t do anything right until he slipped inside you–and your patience was almost nonexistent at this point. If your arms didn’t feel so weighed down you would’ve went for him right away, pulling at his pyjama bottoms like a sex crazed monster, just so you could feel him sooner, but you couldn’t conjure up the energy to do it, which meant you were at the helm of Bob’s mercy.
His large hands slid up your thighs until his fingers hooked beneath the waistband of your panties, drawing the soaked fabric down slowly as he lifted each of your legs in turn so he could free them completely from the confinements, before tossing the sodden cotton aside to join the abyss of discarded clothes that were scattered across the floor.
When his gold-hazed eyes returned to you they moved without focus over every bare inch of skin that was exposed to him, taking in the fine sheen of sweat that coated your chest and stomach, the restless shifting of your hips, and the way you opened your thighs wider for him so he could see how wet you were. He watched the glistening trails of arousal spilling from you, noticing a small, saturated spot on the duvet from where it had absorbed into the fabric, and his mouth couldn’t help but water at the sight.
If he hadn’t gotten you so worked up to this point he would’ve buried his face between your thighs until he wrung so many orgasms from you that you would pass out from exhaustion–just so he could soak his face in that beautiful, sweetness that you created, and bask in it with reckless abandon. But he knew if he did any of that, you would become even more flustered, and he wanted to give you everything you needed. He glanced at his fingers in those moments, noticing the slick shine that still coated his skin, and a small, private smile touched his mouth–that will just have to do.
He brought them to his lips, shoving them into his mouth so he could taste you–relishing in the one thing that he wanted to be surrounded by for the rest of his living life, that sweetness that would drive anyone crazy if they were within a mile radius, the sweetness that was the all consuming bliss that killed all his defences the minute he tasted it.
He licked your arousal off his skin slowly, letting it linger on his tongue before swiping along them again so he didn’t miss a spot, keeping his eyes on your while he did it to watch your lashes bat at him bashfully–like you were enjoying seeing how much of a hold your taste had on him. The way his cheeks had flushed under your gaze had made you smirk, seeing the colour raise in patches across his pale flesh. He was so focused, that he barely noticed your hands finding his hips to push the pyjama pants down the rest of the way, hearing him hiss when the fabric finally cleared and his cock sprang up from its confinements.
You glanced down, looking at the red, glistening tip, and the way it wept thick droplets of precum from the slit. He was so hard that you could see every vein standing out along the smooth flesh that covered the heavy length, and when you brought the tips of your fingers to the head to trace along the crown of it, you could feel the whole shaft flex against your touch, begging to be seated inside of you. He moaned around his fingers, pulling them out of his mouth quickly to grab your thigh as he looked down at your hand, watching while you rubbed the weeping slit, before bringing them to your lips to taste the bitter muskiness of him, feeling another wave of heat rushing through your body while your core clenched, drawing out another gush of arousal from you.
“God, you taste so good.” You admitted, dragging your wet fingers across your lower lip so the taste would linger there, and he nodded sheepishly at the compliment.
“Likewise,” He replied, feeling your legs coming up to weave behind the backs of his thighs as he shifted forward, wrapping his hand around his cock to give it a few rough strokes before guiding the broad head to your wet heat, dragging the tip slowly through your folds, letting it nudge and press against your swollen clit to leave a trail of his precum behind.
“You sure we can’t hold this off for a few minutes so we can ta-taste each other some more?” He asked, guiding the tip back down to rest against your entrance, feeling your arousal soaking it as you shook your head and squeezed his hips, trying to pull him forward.
“We’ve got time afterwards to do that…Now please…Stop teasing me, and just fuck me already.” You muttered, canting your hips up in an attempt to take him in, noticing him pulling back just enough to keep the head at your entrance and nothing more. Then he leaned down, covering your body with his again, while he pressed a soft kiss to your mouth before resting his forehead against yours. His hand hiked your leg higher on his waist as he continued the slow, maddening drag of his cock through your entrance, trying to prolong things as much as possible.
“I’ve never seen you this impatient before,” He breathed against the corner of your mouth, “It’s extremely flattering.” You let out a sigh, sliding your arms under his so you could pull him closer.
“Well sometimes it’s impossible to wait when I have all day to think about the things you’ll do to me when I get on this bed of yours.” He hummed, tilted his head to pepper open-mouthed kissed along your jaw.
“It’s nice to know I’m always on yo-your mind.” A breathless huff of a laugh left you in those moments, one of pure disbelief.
“Don’t let it get to your head.” You remarked, feeing his lips turn up into a smile against your skin, as he lined himself up with your entrance again and settled his weight onto his knees.
“No promises.” He replied softly, before pushing his hips forward and slipping inside your tight wet heat, parting your walls with ease as he burrowed into you, feeling you stretch around him to take the full thickness of his heavy cock. The two of you let out an array of strained moans, your breaths catching with one another as he attempted to focus on keeping himself quiet while he continued to bring his hips to yours.
You could feel every muscle in your body surrendering to him–turning to jelly beneath his body–relaxing into the relief that the fullness his cock brought you, and the way it stretched you to the point where it was abundantly clear that there was a chance that he may not fit entirely.
When his hips finally met yours the two of you were absolutely breathless, as his arm came up to slide beneath your neck so he could hold you closer to him, feeling your chests rising and falling in sync with one another. He was shaking against you, taking in the way your walls spasmed around him, clenching and releasing with each breath you took, and he turned his head into your neck, pressing a kiss against your thundering pulse, hearing you let out a little grunt at the contact, and feeling your hips squirming towards him so the tip of his cock could rub against your cervix.
“Please move.” You whined, as his hot hand enveloped your shoulder and his eyes squeezed shut at the way your nails gently glided down the marks they had left on him already. He took a few moments to gather himself, trying his best not to focus on how good the warmth around his cock felt–because if he even paid it any attention he wouldn’t last long at all–and finally he shifted his hips back just an inch and thrusted in, earning a small gasp from you.
Your reaction only drove him, as he pulled back even further before sinking in again, finding a pace that satisfied the both of you and settling into it. Each time his hips met yours the impact sent a fresh pulse of heat through your core, another gush of arousal coating him as your body rose up off the duvet to take him deeper, feeling the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. His muscles tensed beneath your hands as you rubbed slow circles over his shoulders, resting your chin on the crook of his neck so you could bury your nose in his soft hair, listening to the rumbling whines that left his throat each time he pushed harder into you.
His fingers dug into your thigh, as he raised your leg higher, changing the angle so subtly that you barely noticed it until he put more pressure into his thrusts, and the crown of his cock dragged against your g-spot. A breathy moan escaped you, vibrating into his skin as he continued chasing the relentless pace he set–rutting against you with such restraint that it felt like he was going to collapse. His hot breath stuck to your flesh as he bit down on the spot just below your earlobe, letting out a throaty grunt in an attempt to muffle the noises that were leaving him, trying to keep the one rule in mind that the two of you always had–don’t make any noise that’ll notify the team of your late night encounters.
You gripped at his shoulders, clawing at the muscles, before finding his hair again and pulling him from the crevice of your neck so he could look at you. His jaw was locked tight, and even with his eyes closed you could see the gold blazing behind the lids, bright enough to show through the thin skin and showing off the small veins that were within them. He couldn’t bare to look at you, because he knew if he even made eye contact for more than a second he’d lose every ounce of control he had over himself.
“Bob…Look at me…” You whispered, and he shook his head, continuing to thrust, not being able to find words to combat the request he couldn’t meet. You could feel the tension, the heat that was burning through his veins, how his grip on your thigh tightened to the point where it was almost painful, and you knew you had to intervene. His brows pinched together, as you slid your hands to his cheeks, framing his face while you dragged your thumbs over the subtle bags beneath his eyes.
“Ca-Can’t…” He stuttered, shaking his head between your palms, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to suppress another moan that threatened to escape his mouth. You leaned towards him, pressing a kiss to the furrow between his brows, hearing the lightest whimper bleed through from him.
“Please, baby, I need you to…” You cooed, nuzzling your nose against his before pulling back to look at him once more.
“If…If I do, I won’t be able to ke-keep quiet.” He admitted through the short breaths he was taking, as you shook your head.
“Let them hear us…I don’t care. I want them to know you belong to me anyways.” You said, squeezing his waist between your thighs, pulling him in deeper so he hit your cervix again with a jagged thrust, “Do it for me, Bob…” You added, pleading with him one last time, and it was as if every dam in his mind broke in those moments, as he took in a breath and forced his eyes open to meet yours.
From this close it felt as though you were looking into twin suns–gold and molten orange swallowing the blue until almost nothing of the calm, soothing colour remained–and you could feel and feel the fire inside him burning, threatening to break out at any moment.
“Fuck, Y/N…He…He’s…” He tried to warn you, but you knew what he was going to say, and all you could do was nod.
“I know…It’s okay, Bob…You can let him in.” You reassured, dragging your palms down his cheeks to caress his jaw, “He’s still you…And I…I love you for all that you are.” You choked out as his hips drove in harder at that, his body shaking above you.
“Mmph…God I love you too…I love you so mu-much.” He whimpered, closing the space between your mouths to press a rough wet kiss against your lips, pushing your leg higher until your knee was practically touching the side of your breast. You moaned at the angle, at the way it opened you up to him completely, and your fingers dug into his face to find some sort of purchase to keep your consciousness entangled with this moment. A raw, guttural sound tore from his throat–half groan, half snarl–and you could tell he no longer cared about being quiet, taking your words as gospel written by pure lust.
His thrusts turned harder, pushing as deep as he could go to the point where they were almost punishing in their intensity, and you whined, lifting your hips to grind your clit against the soft pubic hair that was soaked with your arousal. His fingers dug into your shoulder, into your thigh, into anything he could grip as he pulled away from the sloppy kiss to look at you again.
“You’re heavenly.” He growled, “A fucking blessing from every God known to man.” You could feel your cheeks heat up at that, as your hands slid to the back of his neck, clawing at the smooth skin.
“A blessing only for me to take.” He added, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip, before grinding into you. Your core clenched around him, as your head tipped back and pressed deeply into the mattress.
“Fuck, Sen-Sentry?” You questioned, and he nodded, his arm beneath your neck flexing to bring you closer to him.
“Don’t be scared…Bob’s still here, he’s still enjoying the benefits of this perfect pussy…I’m just in the drivers seat.” He explained, as a small smirk touched the corners of his mouth, his eyes roaming over the twisted pleasure that drew across your face.
“Sh-Shit…” You moaned, feeling your legs going numb at the way he kept moving his hips faster, adjusting to find the perfect angle that would hit every erogenous zone inside you just so he could feel you clench around him, and it only pushed him into a frenzy of unfiltered hunger–like your pleasure was the main goal for him while his own was pushed aside. He took in a deep breath, inhaling your scent into his lungs like it was an aphrodisiac, and sighed.
“You’re close, I can feel it in you.” He informed, as he released your leg gently, and let it drop to the side, before making space for his hand to slip between your bodies. He was searching, trailing his fingers along your belly, all the way down until he settled just above where he was driving into you, finding your clit easily with just a swipe of his thumb. When you let out a gasp, a grumbled laugh escaped his throat.
“There it is…Is this what you need?” He asked, and immediately you nodded, sliding your hands down to grab at his shoulders again, “How about you tell me then, Sweetheart?” He teased, brushing the pad over the bud lightly, not putting enough pressure on it to make you crest over into your orgasm. You took in a shaky breath, putting all your focus onto your throat as you tried to form words.
“Pl-Please, Sentry…Ne-Need you to…” You babbled, unable to form a complete sentence, but he took that as a good attempt, gave what you needed –pressing down on the bundle of nerves and rubbing tight circles against it, matching the pace of his brutal thrusts. Your back arched up into him, a strangled moan tearing through your throat, and his smile became even wider.
“You’re so drunk on my cock you can’t even think…I see nothing going on inside your mind…I think you need to cum for me before you do any permanent damage.” He joked, peppering kisses along your face, smearing his saliva over your cheeks, “Think you can do that for me?” You nodded, cinching your eyes shut as the muscles in your thighs began to shake. There was something so primal about his approach that it had caught you off guard–and deep down you found yourself falling into a spiral of thoughts of how much more he could do apart from this.
Your hips began to twitch involuntarily, canting up to meet his thrusts and grinding against his touch, and then a sudden wave of heat rushed through your entirety, pushing you over the edge into a cavernous abyss as your vision blurred and your body tensed up beneath his. He could feel your walls clench around him, almost halting his movements completely as your orgasm hijacked his rhythm. Your arousal gushed around him, soaking his cock and dripping down his balls until it seeped into the duvet beneath you. He kept circling your clit, riding out your high, letting you coast across the euphoria clouding your mind, up until you were scratching at his back and whining from the oversensitivity.
“Too much?” He asked teasingly.
“Yeah…Yeah, a little.” You replied, feeling his thumb easing off you, as he brought his hand back to your thigh, smoothing it up your damp skin.
“Sorry, I got carried away.” He commented, noticing the tension around his cock loosening, which allowed him to continue to thrust, taking it slow this time to not overwhelm you.
“I liked it.” You whispered, and he kissed your cheek.
“I know you did.” His hips rolled harder into you, grinding his pelvis against yours, “You think you can handle a little bit more?” He questioned, feeling your hands travelling down his back.
“I want you to cum inside me…So yeah…I can take it.” He hummed at that, letting his gaze roam over your softened face, and your barely opened eyes.
“That’s what I like to hear.” He said, as he eased into the brutal pace he had laid out before, pushing your leg back up to your chest so he could get as deep as possible, watching your mouth fall open on a silent gasp, your walls contracting around him once more when his cock pressed right into your cervix. He let out a low grunt, and dug his fingers into your thigh, leaning down to enclose your mouth with his, sliding his tongue against yours to taste every essence of you. There was a ferality to these thrusts–a desperate ache to his movements–that made you realize he had been holding back before, and you couldn’t help but squirm beneath him, clinging to the strained muscles of his lower back, feeling them flex under your hands each time he drove into you.
He tore his mouth from yours, feeling threads of saliva snapping against your lips as he tilted his head and kissed a wet path down your jaw, smearing moisture across your skin before finding the crook of your neck, burying his face into it to envelop himself in the salty sweetness of your scent, huffing you as he rutted harder and harder–hearing the wet slap of your bodies echoing through the room, and the squelching sound that tickled your ears every time he pulled back.
His teeth scratched against the sensitive skin, as his grunts grew louder, and his grip tightened on both your shoulder and the thigh he was holding up. The springs of the mattress began to squeak from the harsh motion of his hips meeting yours, and you could’ve sworn your body was imprinted in the duvet beneath you from the full weight of his form on yours, but you couldn’t think hard enough to care. You dug your nails into his lower back, and dragged them down to his ass, grabbing at the muscular flesh there, feeling the tension in every thrust, and suddenly he began to growl.
The low rumble of it vibrated through your body, and even when you thought it was going to end, it just grew in volume. You could feel the sweat from his temples sliding down the side of your neck as he began to lose his rhythm, and it was the one sign he gave you to tell you he was close.
“Fuck…Y/N…Jesus Christ.” He grunted, grinding into you to keep himself as deep as possible, until his teeth sank into the crook of your neck and he thrusted one last time, before spilling into you. His cum felt hotter than normal inside you as ropes of it filled you to the brim, mixing with your arousal as his cock twitched with each release. He tensed up above you like he was frozen in place, as your ears caught the sound of everything in the room grinding against the floor, including the bed which had moved a few inches. It was as if a seismic shift had flowed through the room, pushing everything out of place from the overwhelming loss of control that invaded Sentry’s mind. He wanted to try and stop it before it happened, but he was so focused on how you felt, on your warmth that wrapped around him and kept squeezing his cock, that he couldn’t hold it back even if he had attempted to.
He fucked his cum into you, feeling it gushing out around him and sticking to his skin and your thighs, yet he was still emptying himself into you with no end in sight. You were amazed by the amount that was leaving him, but you didn’t mind it one bit–you enjoyed the warmth it brought to you, how it invaded your body and dripped out of you because there wasn’t enough room for all of it.
When his muscles finally relaxed beneath your hands, he eased his teeth off your shoulder and shakily pulled back to look at you, completely breathless and shivering. The molten gold in his eyes had settled into a deep caramel colour, interweaving beneath the oceanic blue that began to return, and he let out a huff of a laugh, as he pressed his lips to your cheek.
“I think you almost put me into cardiac arrest.” He commented, earning a choked out giggle from you while your hands ran up his back, soothing the remaining tension in the muscles there.
“And I think you almost put me through the mattress.” You teased, feeling him let out a hot breath against your skin, as he shook his head.
“Well, this is the first time I actually got to experience this with you…So you can’t judge me for losing control.” You kissed your teeth at that, shrugging your sore shoulder at his remark.
“Not judging…Just thought I’d point it out.” He smirked, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth.
“Maybe next time I’ll levitate you, then you’ll really have something to talk about.” You let out a little laugh, tilting your head to nudge your nose against his.
“As long as you don’t throw me through a wall, I’d be open to anything.” He hummed, and just before he could respond an array of knocks at the door interrupted his train of thought.
“If you guys don’t mind, it would be much appreciated if you kept your nightly rendezvous confined to your rooms, I almost got crushed by my bed just now and I don’t want to die like that, thank you.” John’s voice boomed as both you and Sentry shared an embarrassed look with one another.
“Sorry.” The two of you said in unison, before he buried his face into your shoulder again, sighing while he listened to John’s heavy footsteps padding down the hall.
“That’s one way for them to find out about us.” You said, feeling him nod against the crook of your neck.
“You’re gonna have a long morning tomorrow…You better prepare yourself.”
kinktober ꒱ cockwarming w/ bob reynolds &. afab!reader
⠀ X-RATED ⒅ ꜜ proceed with caution. ⍈ somnophilia. ᝢ dubcon. ᝢ cockwarming. ᝢ unprotected p in v. ᝢ internal ejaculation ⸝ creampie. ᝢ breast play ⸝ nipple play. ᝢ power imbalance. (ㅤ patient ⸝ test subject x nurse ㅤ)ㅤ ᝢ dacryphilia. ᝢ praise kink. ᝢ depiction ⸝ implication of mental instability. (ㅤ 9.2k words ㅤ)ㅤ
⠀ ABOUT? ꜜ It was supposed to be just cockwarming. He tried to stay still. But the way it feels when he’s inside you? You can tell he’s already losing it. He really tried to stay still- really did.
⠀ NOTES ꜜ He’s so needy but i can understand him… like boy have fear of abandonment!!! :(
The facility was cold and always felt that way. It was the kind of cold that sticks to your flesh no matter how thick the fabric of your clothes is. White lights made a quiet sound above and they washed every surface in pale blue light. They referred to him as Reynolds in the reports and subject 017 in the files, but to you, he was just Bob. You were assigned to monitor him after the serum incident. It was a routine job at first, as you only had to check his vitals, write notes, and ensure he ate. Yet it had not stayed routine for long.
Bob talked to you more than he did to anyone else. Some days, it was scattered, as if he was grasping at scraps of thought and throwing them your way, hoping you would catch them. Other days, he barely spoke at all, and he only watched you with that steady gaze that felt too intense for someone who was supposed to be sedated. You started to notice the little things. How he leaned closer whenever you adjusted the monitor on his wrist. How his hand twitched like he wanted to grab yours but he held himself back. How his mood changed depending on whether you walked into the room with a smile or with tired eyes.
“Did you sleep last night?” he asked once with his voice being quiet and almost shy. You’d only meant to take his blood pressure but he kept his eyes fixed on you. He waits for your answer as if it matters more than what you are doing to him right now. “Not really,” you said and he frowned when you admitted that you hadn’t had a good sleep. He shut his mouth for a few moments before he said, “You should. You don’t look… right when you’re tired.” If Bob is just a new patient you’re handling, you will think that he’s weird for saying that, but you know he’s being sincere. So for some (and unknown) reason, it doesn’t leave your mind after you checked his vitals.
He got clingier as days passed. He’d get restless and ask where you were and demand to wait until you came back if another staff member tried to handle him. Bob has this reaction that he will either reek with anxiety or agitation if you ever leave him for too long. Right now his voice is tight when he finally sees you again. It’s like it’s stuck in his throat. He always has this look that he’s afraid that you’ll never return to his room. “I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted while he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. His shoulders are tense if he is overthinking this already, because you will probably laugh at him. He relaxed and he almost melted under your attention when you stayed and assured him about his worries because he looked like he needed it to breathe.
There were nights he couldn’t sleep, and he paced the small space of his quarters until the cameras caught it, so they sent you in to calm him. He stopped the moment you stepped through the door. “Can you just… sit here?” he asked once before patting the chair beside the bed. No explanation and no excuse. Just a request that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny. You agreed to sit and pulled the chair close to his bed. The air was heavy with the quiet noise of the machines monitoring him. When you lowered yourself down his shoulders loosened like he had been holding tension for hours.
He didn’t speak at first and he just watched you with that fixed stare of his. His eyes darted from your hands to your face and back again. The quietness stayed until he decided to ask you something. “You’ll stay until I fall asleep, right?” You adjusted your coat and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Just close your eyes. It’s late.” Bob shifted under the thin blanket as if the reassurance wasn’t enough on its own. His gaze stayed on you and he grew restless before he muttered, “You always say that. That’s fine, that you’ll stay. And then one day maybe you won’t. And I’ll just…” He stopped in the middle of his sentence before he turned his face into the pillow like he was embarrassed to say that because he couldn’t even stop his mouth.
His words made your heart clench because you’re not some kind of monster who doesn’t get affected by the patients’ vulnerability. Still, you reached out to him. You brushed your hand on his arm. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I’m here now right?” He looked at you again and his face was blank like he didn’t even believe you at all. But after a long silence, he gave the smallest nod and shut his eyes like he wanted to believe you even if he couldn’t fully trust it. His breathing evened out slowly while his hand stayed curled on the sheets close to where your arm rested.
The next morning another nurse came in while you were off rotation. She carried the tray for his vitals and meds. As she clipped the monitor to his finger Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s- where is she?” His voice was hard and more awake than usual so it startled her enough to pause. “She’s busy,” the nurse said while being half distracted by scribbling down notes. “Got pulled to check on the new recruit down the hall. Pretty boy they brought in yesterday.” The assigned nurse gave Bob a smirk if which was intentional and to taunt him. She also said the words came out like gossip to him which made him clench his jaw tightly.
It hit him harder than it should and he doesn’t like it. His body feels so stiffened under that blanket while his eyes are sending daggers to the nurse’s back like he just wants her gone. “She’s supposed to be here,” he said plainly. The nurse blinked because she was caught off guard. “Well she can’t be everywhere at once, Reynolds. You’re not the only one who needs attention.” His hands curled into fists as his eyes burned while he stared past her. His chest rose and fell too fast. He lay back against the mattress when she left muttering about his attitude and he couldn’t get comfortable.
Every sound in the hallway seemed louder and the thought of you tending to someone else dug under his skin in a way that was bitter and cutting. By the time you returned his leg was bouncing restlessly under the sheet. His eyes snapped to you the moment you walked in. “Where were you?” The question came out rough like he had been rehearsing it for hours. You froze halfway into the room. “I was assigned to another patient for a bit. Why? What’s wrong?” His mouth twisted and frustration pulled at his features as he sat up straighter. “They said you were with someone new. Some recruit. Is that true?”
You set the clipboard down and you were careful not to sound dismissive. “Yes, it was just a routine check. Nothing serious.” He scoffed and it was a quick sound that didn’t match the hurt in his eyes. “Routine. Right. Meanwhile, I’m in here-” His voice broke off as he shook his head hard and dragged both hands over his hair like he wanted to pull it out. “You said you’d stay. You say you care. Then you leave the second they tell you to run off.” The weight of his words pressed into the room rough and messy.
You crossed to the bed while keeping your voice steady. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. You know how this place works, and they tell me where to go, so I just have to do it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be here with you.” He looked at you like he was trying to find something on your face. The anger started to fade and it turned into something desperate. “You don’t get it,” he said. “When you’re gone it feels like you’re not coming back. Like you got somewhere else to be or someone else to care about. And then I’m just nothing again.”
Your hand found his wrist and you squeezed gently until he looked down at the contact. “You’re not nothing, Bob. I’m back now. Look at me. I’m here.” His throat moved when he swallowed while his eyes remained staring at the fingers on his skin. “Don’t leave me with them again,” he said and his voice was shaking. “Please.” He didn’t let go even when you told him you were back as his thumb pressed harder on your skin. It didn’t leave anything but it was enough to show he wasn’t letting go.
He suddenly pulled you when you tried to move to the chair and you lost your balance. Thankfully, the edge of the bed caught you and Bob dragged you down beside him before you could stand again with more strength than he probably realized he was using. “Bob-” you started but your voice died in your throat when he pulled you in with his chest on your back. His arm went around your waist, and he held you like he was scared you’d disappear if he let go, even for a second. “This isn’t professional,” you said quietly while you tried to move but he just held you tighter.
His breath brushed against your neck as he muttered, “Don’t care. Just stay here. Just for a little.” Your heart beat faster not only from how close he was but also from the thought that Project Sentry was already moving through his veins. If he lost control and if the Void surfaced you’d be the first one caught. You heard his voice go rough and you still couldn’t make yourself push him away. “Bob, I can't stay like this all night. If someone comes in-”
“Then don’t let them in,” he cut in quickly and desperately as if the thought of anyone else seeing you like this set him on fire. His hand slipped lower as he pressed against your hip to keep you still. “Just… don’t go please. It’s quiet when you’re here. When you’re not, I can’t stop thinking, and it gets loud.” You swallowed hard and forced your voice to be gentle. “I know it’s loud. But pulling me in like this- what if they report it? What if they decide you’re unstable again?” His breath caught against your shoulder.
“I don’t care what they say. You’re the only one who looks at me like I’m not just some test subject. When you’re gone it feels like they were right about me. Like I’m just the mistake they keep locked up. But when you’re here I can breathe.” The honesty hit deep, and it settled heavily inside you, and you turned your head slightly as you caught the edge of his face against your hair. “I’m not going anywhere right now. But you have to loosen your grip. You’re holding too tight.” He hesitated for a moment before he slowly eased his arm just enough so you could move a bit.
Still, he didn’t let go completely because his hand stayed firm on your waist as if he was grounding himself with your presence. “I need this,” he whispered while his voice sounded almost ashamed. “Don’t tell me no. Please don’t.” You exhaled and let your body relax against his because fighting him now would only make it worse. “I’m not saying no. I just… I need you to trust I’ll be here without you dragging me in.” Bob pressed his forehead to the back of your head while his voice came out muffled but rough and uneven. “If I don’t hold on you’ll leave.”
“I came back, didn’t I?” you said like you are trying to prove a point by contradicting his words, but how you touch his arm says the opposite. “You don’t have to trap me here. I stayed because I wanted to.” The quiet between you weighed heavily until his breathing turned shaky and he finally muttered, “Then stay a little longer. Just until it stops feeling like everything’s slipping away.” Your chest tightened at the words and the weight of them sank deep in the sterile room. You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Alright. I’ll stay.”
His hand doesn’t leave where it is placed and he just pressed it tighter as he let out a shaky breath. How he touches you feels like something he communicates with you. Like he’s touching you firmly because that’s the only way he could express he’s grateful for it. He looked like he might actually rest for the first time since you met him. His arm around your waist feels heavy and suffocating (but not in a way that he’s hurting you) when you try to adjust. You should already expect that he will not let go of you as the bed sank a bit when he moved closer. His chest was pressed against your back and you tried to turn enough to see his face but he tugged again and pulled you onto your back as he climbed over you before you could.
“Bob-” your voice came out soft but startled as his body caged yours in. He dropped his head on your chest and his hair brushed your chin while he pressed on your shirt. His breath went through the thin fabric and his whole body went still like he had finally relaxed. “This isn’t how it works,” you said quietly while your fingers hovered over his shoulder like you were thinking if you should push him away. “I’m not supposed to be in bed with you. If someone walks in-”
“I don’t care,” he said before you could even finish. His face was buried on your chest, and his arms just got tighter and tighter until you couldn't move, and his weight was already on you. “Just let me stay please. It gets so bad when you're not here. Everything just feels wrong. I can’t. I can’t take it.” The way he held you made your chest hurt again and you tried to keep your voice calm when you talked. “Bob, I came back didn’t I? I’m not leaving right now. But this- this isn’t professional. You know what they’d do if they saw us like this.”
His head lifted just slightly until his eyes met yours. They were dark and wild but behind the chaos, there was fear that looked small and shaking. “Then don’t let them see,” he said and it’s almost pleading. “Don’t leave me in here with just the walls. I can’t do it. “Not when I know you’ll just go to someone else.” You sighed while you lifted your hand and ran your fingers through his hair. It felt soft against your skin, and he leaned into the touch right away, like he was starving and would take anything you gave. “You’re not competing with anyone.” You say it softly like you mean it.
“I’m here. You don’t need to hold me like I’ll vanish.” His laugh came out short and bitter as he pressed it into your shirt. “You don’t get it. If I let go you’ll disappear. Everyone does.” The words hit hard and for a long moment, you didn’t answer. You moved your hand down to his neck instead while you felt his muscles tense under your touch. He sighed against your chest like he was breaking a little and he moved closer until his thigh was touching yours. The movement wasn’t sudden or rushed but it was enough to send a shiver down your body.
“Bob, you need to be careful,” you whispered with your voice tight in warning even though you still didn’t push him away. “I am,” he murmured quickly. He clung tighter and his nose brushed the side of your throat. “I’m not doing anything. Just… staying close. Don’t make me move.” His weight pressed him down heavy and steady while your body stayed tense beneath his. Yet when his hand slid over your side to anchor you closer the protest in your chest weakened. You knew the risk and you knew the serum running through him made every second dangerous, but the way he held you wasn’t violent.
It was desperate and almost unsteady, like he was begging for your presence to keep him steady, too. Your fingers curled lightly at the back of his shirt as you whispered, “Alright. Just for a little. But you have to promise you’ll let go when I tell you.” His breath hitched and his face pressed harder against your neck. “Okay,” he muttered. The word was shaky but fast like he would agree to anything if it meant keeping you there. The silence that followed was heavy but not empty. His body shifted a little against yours.
It wasn’t grinding yet it was close enough that the heat of him began to stir something low in you. His thigh was pressed against your hip, and his chest kept moving up and down, and your head started going somewhere it should not. His body was warm and heavy on top of you, and his breathing was slow, so you started feeling sleepy too. It was a long day with too many rounds and too many rooms that were not his.
His chest on you made you feel like you could fall asleep right there. Your hand slid weakly across his back without thought and it was more habit than anything as your head tilted against the pillow. Bob stayed wide awake while his face stayed buried against your shirt as he inhaled the soft trace of soap clinging to your scrubs. Each time your chest rose and fell, he felt it against his cheek, and it was proof that you were real and here. He didn’t move for a long time because even shifting might wake you and send you away. But the longer he held you the more restless his body became.
Heat pooled deep in his stomach, uninvited but impossible to ignore, especially with your legs ending up too close. You felt the heat right away through the thin fabric of his pants and he took a short breath. You could tell he was trying not to react but it did not work. His chest was moving fast as his hand twitched like he had no idea what to do. “Hey,” he said quietly and his voice brushed your neck like a whisper. You moved a bit and let out a sleepy sound and it made his chest feel tighter. His voice dropped softer and it almost trembled. “Can I… can I be closer to you? Just for tonight?”
Still half-asleep you barely processed his words. “Mm? Closer?” you murmured with your eyes heavy and too tired to push him away. “Okay just don't hold me too tight.” That was all it took for him. He breathed in heavily, and his hand went down to your waist, and his fingers started pulling at the waistband of your scrub pants. The sound of the fabric made you move a bit but you were too tired to lift your head. “Bob what are you doing?” you mumbled while your voice was muffled on the pillow.
“Just… just let me,” he pleaded while tugging the fabric down your legs. His voice shook like he was afraid you’d wake fully and stop him. “I promise I won’t move. I just need it. Please, I need to feel you.” The words mixed in your drowsy head so you sighed without really understanding what he meant. “Fine. If it helps you calm down.” That was all he needed. He yanked the pants and your underwear down in one hurried motion while he shoved them low enough to show your cunt. His heart was beating fast as he freed himself by pushing the waistband of his loose hospital pants down just enough to let out his cock.
The head looked dark and wet already. When he pressed it against your folds he groaned quietly into your neck. Your body tensed at the sudden heat of him and it dragged you closer to waking. Yet before you could piece together what was happening he pushed in. The thick push filled you slowly but deep and his whole body shuddered when he bottomed out while he kept himself buried inside you completely. A gasp left your lips and your eyes snapped open. The sudden push of him dragged a broken sound out of your throat. “B-Bob- wait-”
He clung tighter with his hands splayed over your hip like he was scared you would slip away. His voice shook with need but he kept it soft and almost begging. “I’m not moving, I swear. Just… just let me stay here. Please. Don’t make me pull out. I can’t. I need this.” The heat of him inside you was too much and the heavy press of his cockhead went so deep it made your walls grip around him. Sleep still hung on your body and left you weak beneath his hold. You could feel the way his cock twitched in your cunt and it was thick and hot.
“Bob this is…” You tried. Your voice was unsteady as it broke between confusion and the closeness of it. Yet when his lips pressed desperately to your neck as he murmured, “It’s just you. Just you. I won’t do anything else.” Your chest felt tight from how bad it hurt. His cock stayed buried as it kept you open and it throbbed lightly with every shaky breath he took. Though your mind screamed at the danger your body gave in under him while you stayed too tired and too full to push him away.
Inside you, it was too much, and he could barely think because you were so tight around his cock, and it felt like you were pulling the air out of him. He tried to breathe, but every inhale just filled him with your scent, and every exhale almost came out as a sound he didn’t want you to hear. You were soft everywhere. You were soft against his chest and soft against his cock. You were soft in the way your body let him in without even realizing what he’d done. He pressed his forehead into your shoulder while his eyes shut tight.
If he stayed still and if he kept his promise not to move then maybe you wouldn’t notice the way his cock twitched inside you. The pulse betrayed him with small hard reminders that he was buried where he never should’ve been. Each beat made your walls squeeze a little and his fingers curled tighter on your hip like holding you closer might hide it. You hadn’t been wet enough when he pushed in and he knew it. He’d felt the drag and that small pull of resistance. For a second he thought he hurt you. Then there was that light slick slide he’d noticed earlier back when he couldn’t stop grinding himself against your thigh before he begged to be closer.
You must’ve felt something then even if you never said it. Now your warmth spread slowly around him and it got wetter each time his cock pulsed. He could feel the way it built up and stuck to his skin and made the squeeze easier little by little. The thought made his chest tighten badly enough that he had to bite his lip quietly. Every few seconds, his cock jumped without his control, and the twitch pressed the tip against your deepest point while your walls tightened like your body reacted even in sleep.
He whimpered into your skin with a tiny muffled sound he prayed you wouldn’t wake to. If you woke and realized then you’d push him away. You’d be gone. The idea of you pulling out of his arms and leaving him empty made his throat lock tight. So he forced himself to stay still. He told himself he could do this. Just stay inside. Just stay buried in your heat. The way you held him felt like a blanket and it calmed him down. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer until there was no space left between you.
Your cunt clenched a little again in a sleepy flutter that nearly sent him over the edge. His nails pressed into your hip like he was trying to anchor himself there. Your breathing evened out after a while. Your chest rose and fell beneath his cheek while he realized you were slipping back into sleep even with his cock still inside you. That made something inside him ease because you trusted him enough, even like this, to fall asleep. The thought undid him more than the warmth of your cunt ever did.
His cock jerked again as it leaked against your walls and your body responded with a slicker squeeze. The wetness spread hot and slippery as he shivered at the thought that you were getting wetter around him even while unconscious. Maybe your body wanted him here. Maybe you needed this without knowing. He held onto that idea like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He let himself sink into you. Twitching and leaking while shaking against your back he buried his face in your neck while the softness of your body calmed him down.
He imagined he could stay here forever with his cock tucked inside you and wrapped so tight in heat that he would never have to face the cold again. The longer he stayed inside you the harder it was to keep still. Your pussy kept squeezing around his cock in slow sleepy waves and it was soft and wet in a way it wasn’t when he first pushed in. His chest moved unevenly because he was trying to tell himself he could take it and he kept saying he didn’t need more because this was already enough. Yet the thought circled back to the same panic. What if you woke and pulled away? What if you never let him touch you like this again?
The fear was louder than his restraint while his hips moved before he could stop them. Just a tiny roll forward, slow and shallow, and enough to make his cockhead slide against the warm walls of your cunt. You stirred and tightened as a small, sleepy sound escaped you, and his eyes closed in relief. He stayed still again as he told himself that one movement was all and that it was safe now. Except it was not. His cock jerked from being squeezed without release while his thoughts twisted on themselves until the pressure burst out as another slow push inside you. He bit back a whimper while your cunt held him wet and snug. He pressed his forehead against the back of your shoulder.
“Sorry… just- just a little. Couldn’t help it,” he whispered like he was confessing. Your voice came soft and slurred with sleep. “Bob… you’re moving.” His body tensed at once as fear jumped hot inside him and his arms tightened around you like holding tighter might keep you from slipping away. “I’ll stop. I swear I’ll stop. Don’t- don’t get mad please.” His voice cracked into a messy sound while your cunt gave another slow squeeze wetter now from the slight rub. He felt like he was drowning between guilt and need as he struggled between keeping still like he promised and the desperate urge to feel you again.
A shaky breath left your lips as you whispered, “Just… not too much I’m tired.” The words nearly undid him as his chest tightened heavily like he was about to break, and you were not telling him to pull out, and you were not telling him to get off, and you were letting him stay. That permission sat heavily on him until it hurt. He nodded fast and messily even though you could not see. “Okay yeah. I’ll be good. I’ll stop now. I’ll stop.” Yet he did not. Not fully. A third thrust slipped out slower than before, as it was more of a grind than a push, and just enough to feel the sticky sound of your pussy sucking around him.
His cock throbbed hard at the sensation as he whispered into your hair, “Feels so good… I can’t- don’t leave, please don’t leave.” You shifted half-asleep with your voice groggy but real. “I’m not leaving. Just… quiet Bob.” Tears burned hot behind his eyes as your words hit him and he held onto it like proof you were not going to disappear even though the fear kept biting at his stomach. His cock twitched inside you again as he forced himself to stop moving this time. He pressed shaky kisses to your shoulder like it could keep the fear out.
“Okay… okay I’ll be quiet. I’ll stay still. I just… need you right here.” He buried his face against your skin while trembling and his cock jumped helplessly inside your soaking cunt as he tried to believe the promise you gave. Not leaving. The words looped in his head over and over as he held you tighter. He was deep in that floaty dumb space where he felt small and safe under you like a boy who just needed to be held. His face stayed on your shoulder and his breath was warm on your skin and a little damp too. His nose pushed deeper into your neck like he wanted to hide there and you could feel how much he needed that.
The weight of his cock inside you was slow and heavy and sometimes it twitched like he was about to lose it. He whispered your name softly and was almost unsure if he should speak at all then went quiet again. When his voice returned it sounded small. “That guy… the one the nurse was talking about. The new patient.” His arms squeezed around your waist like just thinking of it made him hold tighter. “She said you checked on him… said he’s some pretty boy.” The last two words came out uneven and stuck between bitterness and insecurity.
He moved his hips just a tiny bit with one deep dragging thrust that made your cunt clench tight around his cock before he forced himself still again. A rough shaky sound caught in his throat while he pressed his forehead harder to your shoulder. “Is he…? Is he really that?” Your eyes opened just enough to glance back and your voice came soft but steady. “Why are you asking me that right now?” He let out a breath that shook like he was fighting something back. “Because I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t… I don’t want you looking at anyone else like that.”
His cock twitched inside you again, and before he could stop himself, his hips rolled once more, slow and careful, just enough to make a wet sound fill the quiet room. He gasped like he had been caught and murmured quickly, “Sorry sorry- can’t help it. Just one.” The warmth between your legs pounded steadily as your cunt clenched tight around him and you sighed with your voice groggy but clear. “Bob you’re jealous over nothing. He’s just another recruit.” His chest pressed harder against your back like he wanted to melt into you so you could not pull away.
“But you touched him,” he whispered with his voice breaking into a needy whine. “You checked on him. What if he likes you looking at him? What if you liked it too?” His arms shook while he held you with panic crawling up in his tone. “Don’t… don’t say you liked it. Please.” A soft breath slipped from your lips while he went still again with his cock buried so deep you could feel the head pressed against your softest spot. “Bob. I didn’t like it. He means nothing to me.” The words melted something hard inside him, and relief rushed over his face, though it did not stop the pit in his stomach from eating at him again.
His hips twitched once more with another slow glide that forced his cock deeper while he let out a rough sound. He froze afterward with breath heavy as he feared you would push him off. “I’m being crazy right?” His voice was soft and vulnerable. “You probably think I’m stupid for even asking.” Turning your head slightly on the pillow you spoke in a low murmur. “You’re not stupid. You’re just scared.” The simple truth of it made his chest fold inward and his nose pressed back into your shoulder. His lips brushed your skin as his eyes started to burn.
“I don’t want you to leave me for someone prettier… or stronger… or maybe better.” His next thrust was slow and shaky because he just wanted to feel you around him again. “I’ll be good, I'll stay still. Just… don’t say you’ll leave.” Your hand found his where it clung to your stomach and your fingers wove with his to hold him down to reality. “I’m not leaving.” He whimpered softly at the words so quiet you almost didn’t hear them. His cock pulsed hard inside you and he couldn’t stop another single thrust.
It slid deeper than before as if your reassurance hit straight through his whole body. His lips pressed against your shoulder again while trembling. “Thank you… thank you…” His forehead stayed tucked to your shoulder and his lips brushed against your skin when he breathed. His weight was heavy and clinging. Every few seconds, his cock gave a hard twitch inside you, not enough to push yet just enough to make you tighten around him. He whimpered a bit because you kept squeezing around him like your body couldn’t stop.
You could only hear his breathing and it was shaking a bit like he was trying to calm down. Too loud for his liking considering how silent the room is. He tried to say something, but it just kept breaking out of his throat, weirdly like he couldn’t make it come out right. “I don’t know… I just- I- I can’t… please it’s too much. Can’t stay still-” He moved a bit like he didn’t even know what he was doing then stopped fast because it was already too much. He let out a rough breath that came out shaky (almost like it hurt). “Feels too much. I keep-” his words cracked as his cock twitched again “I keep thinking about moving. Just once. Then again. And again. I don’t know if I can stop.” Your voice came out low and calm even though the twitch of his cock made your cunt tighten hard around him. “Bob, that’s the point of this. You wanted to stay inside to be close not to fuck.”
“I know,” he murmured quickly and almost panicked as his arms hugged your waist tighter like you might pull away. “I know I wanted that. I wanted to stay but it hurts and it burns in my stomach. It’s like my cock is begging.” His hips moved again, slow enough that you felt every inch of him drag against your walls, then he forced himself still with a small grunt. “See? I can’t even stop it when I try. I’m sorry.” You turned your head on the pillow just enough to glance back at him and your voice was soft but steady. “Are you asking me if you can fuck me?”
His head shook quickly against your shoulder then it paused like he didn’t know the right answer. “Not asking. I mean yes, I want to…” He cut himself in the middle and he’s hesitant to finish it if it’s too embarrassing to say those words. “But I-I don’t want to mess it up- don’t want you to get mad at me,” he adds and it sounds like he’s running out of something with the way he tries to hold onto them, but they slip away. “I don’t want to make you mad. I don’t want you to hate me.” You placed your hand to cover his hand that was touching your stomach. You hold him so he can stay still. “Bob. I don’t hate you.” He made a sound close to a whimper and his cock jerked inside you again. Then he gave the smallest thrust deep enough to make both of you feel it.
His voice came out hoarse and needy. “Feels so good I don’t want to stop. Please tell me I can. Please tell me I can move just a little. I’ll be careful. I’ll be slow. I’ll do anything if you let me.” Your body clenched hard around him at the drag of his cock and your breath caught. “You really don’t think you can keep still?” He looked up at you like he wanted to say something else but the words never came and his chest just kept rising fast against yours. “No,” he admitted in a whisper that almost broke into a sob. His nose pressed harder against your shoulder and his whole body trembled against yours.
“I can’t. I thought I could but I can’t. I need to feel you more. I need you to let me. Please.” The second you whispered that he could move his whole body seemed to let out a hard shaky breath he had been holding in. His hips started to rock and at first, they barely moved. It was the slowest careful drag in and out as if he was scared that even that much might be taken away. His face stayed hidden in the crook of your neck and his nose brushed your skin while warm breath spilled across it. You felt the wet press of his lips when he mumbled against you and the words were too soft and messy to make sense.
They sounded more like sounds he couldn’t keep locked in. Your eyes closed, not because you were drifting, but because the way his cock pushed deep so slowly was almost overwhelming. Every careful push sent a heavy jolt through your body and it made your chest rise unevenly. One hand lifted to the back of his head with your fingers sliding into his hair. You brushed it back and soothed him as he moved inside you. He let out this tiny sound when you touched him like that, and his hips twitched once, then slowed down again.
“Don't be too loud,” said it right next to his ear and your stomach went tight thinking someone might hear. “They’ll hear.” He nodded into your neck and his voice was muffled but shaky. “I’m trying. I’m trying, I promise.” The next thrust dragged long and deep and his cock pushed until you both had to bite back a sound. He gave a broken breathy sound that wasn’t words exactly but just a helpless noise. Then he breathed out, “Feels so good. You feel so good, I can’t-” His voice cracked and he cut himself off with another push like maybe words would betray him if he kept going.
Your cunt clenched around him and you breathed out softly and unevenly. “Bob… ngh, slow. You’re doing fine. Just keep it like that.” You can feel his body tremble against your body and you can see how much effort he’s putting into not making loud noises. “I’ll be good. I’ll do it slowly,” he promised you, like he’s eager to let you know about that, and maybe because he wants to earn your approval. “Don’t stop me, please don’t stop me, I can’t- don’t take me out.” His hips pressed forward again just as slow but deeper this time. His cockhead nudged so far inside that your legs jerked a little.
Your nails dragged lightly over his scalp to steady him as his face burrowed deeper against your neck. “I’m not stopping you. Just… quiet, baby. We can’t get caught.” He let out a shaky muffled laugh that broke off into a grunt when your pussy squeezed around him again. “I’ll be quiet. I’ll be quiet for you. Just don’t make me stop. Please don’t make me stop.” He kept moving, and each thrust was patient and careful, but heavy with the way he clung to you. He mumbled against your skin in half-formed words that were nothing but need.
At first, he really did try to keep that slow pace you told him, but the longer he stayed buried inside you, the harder it became for him to keep control. He started to push his hips deeper and his pace became faster. His thrusts are a steady push and pull that makes your cunt clench around his cock as your body jolts every time. The skin slapping from it is almost too loud inside this quiet room. (Those are not so quiet now because of what you are doing with him) His face lifted from your neck and tears clung to his lashes as he hovered over you like he needed to see and needed to feel all of it.
“F-fuck, it’s not enough,” he breathed with his voice cracking as his hips rocked forward harder. His lips parted like he wanted to say more but what came out was just a messy sound. “Ohhh- mmfhh, y-you feel too good, can’t- ahh- can’t go slow.” Your hand shoots up before he can get any louder and your palm presses over his mouth. His moan breaks against it wet and desperate. His head moves against your hand like he’s trying to press himself into you while still fucking into your cunt. “Bob, quiet,” you whisper harshly and you bite down on your lip to keep your own sounds low.
Heat pulled tight in your belly with every hard thrust and it takes all your strength not to cry out too. “If you’re loud they’ll hear.” His eyes squeeze shut and his tears are damp against your skin as he nods desperately under your hand. His hips don’t stop, though, and if anything, he drives harder with his cock twitching inside you with every thrust. He mumbles into your palm with words breaking and slurring together. Some of it isn’t even clear. “Don’t stop me- please please don’t- ohh feels so- hah mmfhh- feels too good don’t take me out don’t-” His voice muffles into nonsense after that with whimpers and broken little sobs vibrating against your hand.
Your other hand slides back into his hair, brushing and tugging gently at the strands as you whisper back, shaky and unsteady. “I’m not stopping you, baby. Just- hnnh- just keep going just stay quiet for me.” He pushes harder at your words, and his cock sinks deep until your walls grip around him, and it makes you muffle a needy sound against your bitten lip. His whole body trembles above you and his forehead drops to your temple as he keeps thrusting. He moves against your hand like he can’t stand not having his mouth on you.
His voice spills again in half-sobs and half-whines into your palm. “Love you- need you- don’t- don’t let me go- ohhh oh fuck- hahhh can’t stop-” You hold his mouth firm while stroking his hair with your other hand as your legs tremble around his waist. “Shhh, I’ve got you, just don’t wake them, just you and me right now.” His tears slide down his cheek and some soak your skin as his thrusts grow rougher. It feels like he’s breaking apart under the weight of having you like this. He keeps whispering into your hand without making sense anymore and it’s just pure need spilling out in muffled moans.
His thrusts lose what little steadiness they had until his hips jerk without any clear pace. Each push feels uneven and messy like he’s chasing the way your cunt tightens around him. His forehead presses down hard against your chest, and his weight folds into you, almost collapsing as his breath turns into shaky little sounds. “Mmffhh- c-can’t- oh god I c-can’t-” his voice shook against your scrub and the words came out between small broken sounds. His hands were all over your waist and moved under the fabric until he found your tits.
His touch was messy and a bit shaky as he grabbed you like he needed to hold on to something. It felt like he was trying to breathe through it while his fingers kept shaking a little and it made your chest twist. You feel his teeth through the fabric when he buries his face harder into you and he bites through the layers like he’s desperate to ground himself. The pressure makes you gasp and your hand instantly sinks into his hair to keep him there while your body jumps with the rough pace of his cock. “Bob- ahh- slow down, baby,” you whisper, though your voice isn’t stern. It’s soft and gentle and your fingers slide through his damp hair while his face trembles against your chest.
His thrusts don’t slow but they just grow weaker and unorganized and messy. “I can’t, I can’t- hnnnnghh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please-” His voice cracks as he squeezes your tits tighter and his mouth gnaws softly through your scrub and bra before he cries into the fabric again. “Feels too good ohhh ohhh f-fuck please don’t push me away please-” You bite your lip hard to stop yourself from crying out when he bottoms out deep and your nails drag gently along his scalp to calm him. “I’m not pushing you away,” you breathe and your voice trembles while your cunt tightens around him. “I’m right here. Just fuck me, baby, it’s okay. Just breathe.”
He shakes his head against your chest like he doesn’t believe you and his sobs turn wetter as his thrusts lose all form of control. His cock twitches with every uneven push and it spreads slick between your thighs while his mouth drags across your covered breast in broken kisses and bites. He gasps against the fabric and his voice breaks apart. “Love you love you love you ohhh nnghhh can’t can’t stop please please-” Your own quiet sounds slip through your bitten lip, and they are soft, muffled cries that shake with every harsh drag of his cock.
Your chest rises under his weight as you whisper while stroking his hair. “I know I know- you don’t have to stop, just stay with me. Just me and you.” His teeth catch your nipple through the layers and he bites down with a whimper while his hips stutter. The pace is so messy it feels like he’s breaking apart inside you. His hands clutch at your tits like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go, and his face stays buried in your chest while his tears soak into your scrub as he fucks you in broken, needy thrusts.
His thrusts falter until he’s not really fucking you anymore. He is only grinding down like he’s trying to keep himself buried as deep as possible. Every push makes his cock twitch and the slick spreads more between your folds until it’s messy and wet. His face presses against your chest, and it is hot and damp with tears, while every broken sound he lets out trembles against your skin. Your nails scrape gently at his scalp as your stomach knots and it builds tight with every sloppy roll of his hips. “Bob, ohh god, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whisper into his hair, and your words spill out shaky and drawn out by the way he keeps grinding clumsily against you.
Your cunt clenches down hard, and your back arches into him when the wave finally crashes through you, and it spills slick around his cock until he’s slipping even easier inside you. He whines at the feeling, and it is a wet, broken noise that shakes against your chest. “Ohh ohhh fuck too much too good nghh.” His whole body trembles as he twitches inside you and his hips keep stuttering like he’s chasing your orgasm even while you squeeze around him. The way you gush makes his cock jerk helplessly and he gasps into your scrub like he’s the one about to come undone.
In the middle of your high his hand fumbles up and he shoves both your scrub and bra up in one rough motion until your tits spill free. The sudden chill of air on your skin makes you shiver but it’s gone the second his mouth latches onto one nipple. His lips close around it desperately, and he sucks hard like he’s starving, while his tears wet your skin and his tongue drags messy circles. He whimpers against your breast with needy little sounds that tremble with every sloppy grind of his cock. “Bob- ah- baby,” you whine, and you hold his head against your chest without pulling him away as he bites down softly, then sucks again like there’s something for him to drink.
Your cunt squeezes around him so tight it pulls another choked cry from his throat. “Need it, need you- don't let go,” he babbles against your tit and his words are muffled as he keeps sucking like he can’t stop. His hips keep grinding with no pace at all and just chase friction while twitching every time your pussy flutters around him. He whimpers again with his voice breaking high. “Gonna ohh ohhh fuck g-gonna cum can’t hold it please please can I-” You’re still pulsing from your own orgasm with your thighs trembling around his waist, but you nod against his hair and whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, come inside me baby, I want it.”
The words break him. He moans into your breast and sucks harder while his cock jerks inside you. His whole body shakes as he spills hot and deep with his hips pressed tight against you while his cum fills you in messy spurts. He cries against your chest while his teeth hit your nipple and his hips keep moving even when he has already come. You put your hand in his wet messy hair and pull him close to your chest while his body keeps shaking on you. You whisper, “I got you just let it out. I got you.”
He continues to cry against your skin while his cock is still deep inside your pussy. You could feel it twitch and throb as his mouth is placed on your tit like he needs it to function properly. He keeps sucking on it regardless that he’s already calming down from the orgasm he just had while his hips still move needily. He’s desperate to have every bit of your closeness and he’s willing to take whatever you will let him have. His breathing never steadies right away. Warm little puffs spill against your chest while his mouth stays latched to your nipple and he sucks slow and messy like he doesn’t know how to stop. His cock is still buried deep inside and it softens but refuses to leave while twitching every now and then as though even your walls squeezing down in the aftermath is too much for him.
Instead of pulling away his hips move with these small broken grinds like he wants his cum to sink deeper in you. When you look down, his lashes are wet, and his face is red and messy. His eyes look shiny like a kid who lost something he really wants. He looks up at you and his lips are still on your breast while his tongue moves slowly on your nipple. Then his mouth pulls away with a wet sound. “Don’t… don’t make me move yet.” His voice sounded broken and tired while his hand held your other tit and squeezed it like he wanted to touch all of you at once.
You touch under his eye and stop the tear before it falls. “I’m not making you move,” you say and your voice is soft. His body shakes a little against you like he needs to hear that. “Just stay. You’re fine.” His breath stops for a bit when he hides his face back on your chest. His lips move on your breast again until he finds the same nipple. He sucks harder this time, like he wants something to come out, even though he knows you don’t have it. Your hand smooths over his messy hair and down to his damp neck as you stroke until he melts further into you.
“Feels… feels better when I do this,” he mumbles against your skin and his voice is muffled as his mouth stays busy sucking and biting lightly. His hips twitch again and grind just enough that his cock stirs lightly inside your cunt. “Keeps me in… keeps me close to you.” You let out a quiet breath with your back sinking into the bed as your legs curl around his waist to lock him where he wants to be. “Then stay close,” you answer with heat spreading in your chest at how he clings to you like you’re the only anchor he has.
His eyes flick up to you again and they’re watery and pleading while his mouth still latches to your breast and his hand gropes the other. When you look down his lashes are wet and his face is red. His eyes looked like he had cried a lot. He looks up at you and his mouth is still on your chest while his tongue moves slowly. Then he pulls away and it makes a wet sound. “Don’t let them… don’t let them take me away,” he whispers rough between sucks, and the pain in his voice makes your stomach twist. You press your palm to his cheek to guide him to look at you though he doesn’t release your nipple. “No one’s taking you,” you murmur with weight and you mean it. His hips still move in shallow little rolls that push his cum further inside you like he wants to prove he belongs there. And you don’t stop him.
Because this is what Project Sentry was built on. Dedication, sacrifice, and people giving more than what was asked just to make it succeed. You’ve seen scientists bury themselves in data for weeks, nurses risk their licenses, and handlers ruin their bodies with stress. Everyone offers something. Maybe you’re no different. Maybe you’ve taken it more literally than most. Maybe it stopped being about ethics the moment you realized what he needed from you. Maybe it’s not about what’s right anymore and it’s about what keeps him from breaking.
Because here you are holding Bob against your chest with his cock still warming inside you, and his tears soaking into your scrub you realize you’ve already decided. If this project needs him steady, if it needs him held together, and if it needs someone to keep him calm, then you’ll do it, whatever that means. You’ll give him your body, your time, and your patience. You’ll let him cling and cry, and suck at your tits like he’s starved, because if that’s what it takes to make him the Sentry they want, then you’ll give it. Especially for Bob.
Summary: Bob tries a new way of folding Sentry and the Void into his psyche, and it involves recreating the vibes of your smutty books.
Bob is a cinnamon roll, but Sentry likes it spicy. If you only like Bob soft and sweet THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.
Rating: 18+ MDNI
WC: 11.1k (complete)
Suggested listening: Off the Ground (Feat. MRYN)
CW: Porn with plot, no use of y/n, mutual pining, verbal consent, Bob is down bad, Sentry is a dom, reader is femme coded but not described, reader is also a thunderbolt/superhero (of vague power and origin, you decide!), banter, discussion of sexual harassment, Yelena is the greatest wingperson of all time, mild themes of violence, Bob is jealous, power dynamics, power play, dom/sub dynamics, p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, creative sexual use of super powers, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), cream pie, fluff.
Sick af dividers by @lobster-graphics
“She likes you, you know. Everyone thinks she likes you.”
It should’ve made him feel better. It should’ve made him happy. Bob closed the book he had been pretending to read. Clearly, he wasn’t fooling anybody, and especially not Yelena. He was trying not to pretend so much lately, but old habits…
“I don’t know,” Bob muttered, shrugging. Across the common room from them, you sat on the bar top swinging your legs, hands flying as you relayed the details of yet another terrible date while Ava nodded along, absorbing, chiming in with the occasional disgusted grunt, laughing where appropriate. Bob shoved a piece of hair behind his ear and went back to pretending—pretending that he didn’t notice things about you, pretending that he didn’t care. Yelena, perched on the right arm of his overstuffed reading chair, shifted as if she might relent and leave him alone. He should’ve let her. Instead, he blurted out, “She goes on dates.”
Yelena snorted softly. Like him, she had opted for sweats and sneaks on a rare day off. Well, all of Bob’s days were off, technically; he was on the bench until he learned how to integrate. That was the word everyone kept using. Integrate. His personality was fragmented. He wasn’t much use to anyone, least of all a superhero team, until he learned to integrate. It would be easier to try if everyone stopped treating him like a puppy with a busted paw.
“Dates shmates,” Yelena said, tossing a glance over her shoulder at the two women gossiping by the bar. “She’s just waiting for you to work up the courage.”
Bob gave her a worried smile. “It’s um, I think maybe it’s better for her if I don’t.”
“I thought we were trying optimism.”
“Like I want to hear about crypto, of all fucking things…” you were saying, to a belabored groan from Ava. “…ruined my chicken parm.”
“Save her, Bob. Save her from the finance bros.” Yelena patted his shoulder, hopping down from the arm of his chair. “They are a menace and a scourge.” She tilted her head to the side, smirking as she flicked her head toward you and Ava. “Doesn’t it sound like she needs…a hero? A super hero?”
Yelena kept trying to walk away, but Bob kept saying too much. He flinched as his jealous mind tattled on him again. “Yeah? Maybe Walker can ask her out.”
“John?” Her brows tugged down along with the rest of her. She knelt beside the chair, folding her arms across the spot she had just been sitting on. Bob opened his book, a reflex, studiously avoiding her more pointed look. “Why do you sound bitter? What do you know about her that I don’t?”
Bob set his jaw, which in his mind projected a supremely tough and firm expression. It did nothing to rebuff Yelena. She went on staring, skipping a hand up the sleeve of his hoodie before poking his shoulder. He winced away from the prod. “Please don’t do that, you’re very strong.”
“You’re the Sentry.”
Bob shook his head. “Just…we should drop this.” His eyes, unbidden, tracked from the page he wasn’t reading, over Yelena’s head, to you. What did he know that Yelena didn’t? Where to start?
When you joined the team, you had gone to shake everyone’s hand without a second thought. Bob had been too distracted by your eyes, your warm smile, your laugh, to stop you before it was too late. Your hand folded into his, a perfect fit, and then you were somewhere else, a room he didn’t recognize, a memory dredged from the darkest shadow of your mind. He had witnessed your deepest shame, a thing he had no right to, a thing he wished desperately to forget.
Or maybe not. He didn’t know. He didn’t like the idea of forgetting any aspect of you, even the difficult pieces. When the vision faded, you stared at him with your lips parted, a muscle twitching in your jaw. Tears filmed your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he had muttered, looking down at his shoes. “That…sometimes I can’t control that.”
And he would’ve forgiven you if you never warmed to him after that, but you did.
Yelena and Ava were so overjoyed to have another woman on the team that they took you in as a third sister; he was sure they must have filled you in on his whole sordid backstory. The drugs. The wandering. The lab in Malaysia. The vault. The Void. Even more ticks in the What The Fuck column, but you didn’t shun him. Sometimes, when he did the dishes, you just came and stood beside him and waited to help, taking the wet glasses from him and drying them. You didn’t always talk in those times, but the silence was fine, companionable. You calmed him down. He knew your darkness, and it hadn’t frightened him away or turned him into a judgy prick, and he got the sense that was a relief.
You left books out for him, ones you thought he would like, a hobby crumb trail to gauge his taste. You offered to take the pickles off his burger when he didn’t want them. When Walker condescendingly called him “House Husband” after catching him doing chores, you laid into John for it. “Does that mean you’re going to start pulling your weight around here? Pick up your shit?” you had shouted, and Walker’s face turned a hilariously patriotic shade of red. “No? Didn’t think so…”
On and on.
“Bob? Earth to Bob?” Yelena snapped in front of his face, then searched it.
“We shouldn’t…” Bob scrambled for an excuse she would accept so everyone could move on with their lives. Or Bob would try to move on, at least. Someone should move on because that’s what healthy people were meant to do. “Shouldn’t fraternize with teammates."
"Fraternize? Who said anything about fraternize?” Yelena scoffed, then laughed, then scoffed again, rolling her eyes. She wiped a nonexistent booger off her nose and lowered her voice to a naughty whisper. “I’m talking about smooching and cuddling and fu—”
“That’s fraternizing.” Bob shrank down into the chair, trying to disappear. She was never going to relent, ordinarily a fantastic quality for a superhero to possess but in this specific case highly irritating. “Look, if I tell you the real reason will you let it go?”
Yelena hummed. “Mm, that depends on the reason. Is it a dumb reason?”
“I’m not her type.” Bob shut his eyes and said it fast, definitively, so he didn’t have to hold the words in his mouth for too long. If he did, he knew they would burn. Across the room, you laughed, and it was like an arrow lodging in his heart. He peeled one eye open at the sound, expression softening.
“Oooh you are down bad bad, I see.” Yelena clucked her tongue, shifted her legs to shake the ants out of them as she continued kneeling beside the chair. “And bullshit, Bob. Bullshit. She tries not to stare at you as much as you try not to stare at her.”
“How can you even tell something like that?”
“It takes a yearner to know one.” Yelena heaved a long-suffering, dreamy sigh, then leaned forward slightly and slapped Bob on the knee. “Why wouldn’t you be her type? You have the beautiful, wounded eyes of a basset hound and the floppy hair of a 90s heartthrob. That is a lethal combination for many.”
Bob quirked his lips to one side, temporarily less interested in vanishing off the face of the planet. “You think my eyes are beautiful?”
“They are beautiful, Bob. I know it, you know it.” She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “I thought self-image work was part of you integration therapy.”
“It is,” he said. “This has nothing to do with that.”
You and Ava had finished your complete evisceration of Crypto Guy and, after a job well done, had wandered off together toward the elevator discussing dinner options. Now that you were gone, Bob felt a little easier about having this discussion right out in the open. God forbid Walker waltz in and overhear something with this super soldier hearing.
Yelena popped up, standing over him, hip cocked, arms folding across her half-zipped hoodie. “She’s gone. Out with it.” Her eyes somehow narrowed further. “You know something.”
“Listen, I’m not proud of it…” Bob cleared his throat, ran one hand through his hair, then both, with greater agitation. “I just…she likes to read, right? She left her Kindle out on the coffee table last week and I thought, hey, her birthday is soon, I can figure out what book to get her and like a total dumb ass I snooped.”
“You snooped.” Yelena repeated it, dry. “Does this story get more interesting? Because—”
“She has all these books about…” He took a deep, centering breath. “Sex.”
“Sex books!? Bob.” Fluttering her hand over her heart, she pretended to faint and swoon. “Oh my God. A grown woman has sex books? Like about sex? Penis vagina sex? How will your pure baby heart ever recover from the shock? Are you okay? I’m glad you’re already sitting down, because--”
“Stop. Forget it.” Bob shook his head, hugged his book to his chest, and stood, bypassing his interrogator as he stormed toward the kitchen and bar. Of course, she followed. Of course, the heckling didn’t stop. She always meant well, but sometimes it was just too much. Nimble and a thousand times more athletic than Just Bob, she beat him to the refrigerator, placing herself between it and him.
“It’s not a problem, okay? It isn’t that it’s sex. Sex is fine. Sex is great.” Bob couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, he sounded like a guidance counselor. But the lines about these things had always been blurry at best. The team gave each other shit like siblings and also like siblings, protected each other fiercely from the criticisms and cruelties of the outside world where normies, like, just didn’t get their whole thing, man, and if there were explicit rules against inter-Avenger romances, he hadn’t seen it in the paperwork, but if something went wrong, if something got messy…
“Sex is fine. Sex is great?” Yelena rolled her shoulders, pursing her lips as she snorted at him. “Sex is cool, maybe? Is it wow neato?”
Bob rocked up onto his toes, trying to remember the box breathing exercises his integration therapist had taught him before she accused him of being a virgin. What do you think is holding you back? the therapist had asked, bouncing the butt of a pen against his chin while he appraised Bob over a pair of thick turtle shell glasses. He didn’t know that such a therapist even existed, but Valentina had insisted it was totally a real thing, and whatever his reservations might be, the meetings were not optional. This is not a humane society, were her words, and you are not a stray kitten.
There were worksheets, homework. Constant, constant questions…
Are you afraid of what will happen if Sentry or the Void become dominant?
Bob flexed his white-knuckled fingers around the book he was clutching like a life preserver. He closed his eyes because he wasn’t sure he could explain it if he had to see her reaction. “The guys in her books are intense. They're tough and they yell constantly. They…they boss the women around. They’re fucking jerks, honestly, and I don’t want to be a jerk.”
The cackle he expected from her never landed. Yelena lowered her arms, then crossed the distance between them and gently touched his elbows. “Bob. Robert. It’s just a fantasy. She doesn’t actually want a jerk, she wants you.”
He shook his head. “No, no, they were all like that.”
“You read them all?”
“No. No. I skimmed. Enough to recognize a pattern. Look, I don’t know how to be like that,” he said quietly, deflating. “Even if it is just a fantasy, I couldn’t give that to her, I’m…” He sorted through all the unkind descriptions that had been hurled at him in his life, the ones he had internalized, the ones that stung, and the ones he could shrug off. “Afraid.”
“My sweet Bob. My darling Bob. My tiny baby sweet boy Bob…” Yelena patted his elbows, sticking out her lower lip.
Bob twisted away from her. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”
He was so fucking tired of everyone patronizing him. Yes, he had problems. Yes, it was taking quite some time for him to figure out his fragmented identities, and yes, he was kind of a dead weight in the meantime. Couldn’t they see that he was fucked up about it? Couldn’t they see him trying?
Are you afraid of what will happen if Sentry or the Void become dominant?
He tossed his book on the bar top and reached over Yelena’s shoulder for the refrigerator door, promising himself a crisp Dr. Pepper could fix this, pulling the panel open with enough force to rip it halfway off its hinges. Yelena leapt back, silent. Bob stared at where his hand was wrapped around the cylindrical handle. A jar of Dijon mustard fell off the lowest shelf and rolled across the shiny floor until Yelena stopped it with a tap of her foot.
“That’s new,” she said, eyes widening.
“I, um…” Bob tried to put the door back, but it hung loose and to the side, visibly busted. “I’m sure we can fix that.”
“Was that Sentry?” she asked lightly.
“I don’t know.” Bob hunched, keeping his eyes turned away from her. “Maybe.”
Suddenly, he didn’t have a choice about looking at her. Yelena soccer scooped the mustard jar onto the top of her foot and flicked it up into her hand, tossing it in the air and catching it as she came toward him, chewing her cheek in thought. She took him by the arm, swinging until they were face to face. “This is a good thing, Bob.”
“It…is? Because I think Valentina is going to be pretty pissed, and—”
She felt along his bicep as if to make sure he hadn’t secretly gotten jacked while they weren’t looking, but she didn’t seem to detect any major changes. “I met Sentry—”
Bob groaned, trying to veer away. “God, don’t remind me, I—”
“And he was kind of a fucking asshole.” She smiled, though, squeezing his arm playfully. “But he could be our kind of asshole. Her kind of asshole.”
Bob froze in her grasp, catching up to her meaning. His mouth fell open as his eyes shifted side to side. “I don’t know about this, Lena. I don’t know if I can control him if he comes out, and if I did something, hurt her, God, if I hurt her, I would never forgive myself.”
“Which is why you won’t.” She said it so simply. Honestly? It was kind of refreshing, and certainly more direct than the constant loops he went in with the integration therapist. “You are Bob and Bob is Sentry and Sentry is Void and Void is Bob, and so on, yes? If you want to keep her safe, they will keep her safe.” She poked him hard in the chest, and Bob jerked backward. “The heart of one man, but the, uh, diverse skillset of three. So maybe Sentry would…be a bit more flexible when it comes to playing the jerk. Just for her.” Yelena waggled her eyebrows and winked. “Just in the bedroom.”
“I thought you hated this stuff.”
You watched Yelena tear through your bookshelf with the zeal of a sheltered Mormon teen, fingers like claws as she dumped romance novel after romance novel into the growing pile at her feet. She was certainly organizing her night around a theme. You glanced at the titles with a knot tightening in your stomach. The Storm and the Stallion. The Sellsword’s Bride. Mounted by the Warlord.
“I’m broadening my horizons,” Yelena said flatly. She picked up Mounted by the Warlord and gestured toward you with it, eyes dark and dubious as she considered you and then the book. “How’s this one? Intellectually stimulating?”
“Is this a cry for help?” You joined her by the bookshelf. Previously, you had been observing her 180-degree personality shift from the safe harbor of your bedside table and the multicolor reading lamp there. Walker said those were for insomniatic autistic kids, but you had shot him such a poisonously withering look that he had stumbled on to say there was nothing wrong with that and maybe he should get one and oh look the Yankees game was on…
You studied Yelena, growing more suspicious by the second.
“Don’t worry about me, worry about you.” She put the novel back down on top of the stack, and pivoted, puffing the hair out of her eyes.
“Me? What did I do?” you asked, mirroring her defensive posture. “Did Bucky say something about bugs in the Britta filter because if so, I had nothing to do with that…”
“What bugs?”
“It’s not important.” You wiped impatiently at your eyes. Valentina had volunteered you for a charity fundraiser the following evening, and you had hoped to take all of the hours between now and then to prepare, decompress, practice your calming mantras before wading into a sea of politicians and paparazzi. You did not expect the Oprah’s Book Club treatment from someone who thought Pedro Páramo was a taco joint. “Can we skip to the part where you lovingly berate me?”
“Sure. Fine by me.” Yelena dusted off her hands as if touching all of your smutty books had left a physical residue. She squared up to you, placing her palms on your shoulders, giving her best frustrated big sister sigh. “Why are you wasting your precious time with finance bros when our dear beloved Bob is right there? I know you are not stupid, so what’s the problem?”
You opened and closed your mouth a few times, wondering if a stiff headbutt would be enough to knock her out. Anything to escape this conversation.
“There is no reason to torture yourself with Wallstreet coke heads, my love, Bob is single and ready to awkwardly mingle, and we would all cheer you on. Even Walker, which is saying something.”
“Please stop talking.” You covered your face with both hands, forcing out a groan through the crack between your palms.
Bob. Oh God, Bob. You had just survived twelve rounds of merciless interviews, a background check that would make even Steve Rogers sweat, and a compulsory media training camp that made you self-conscious about everything from your teeth (showing too much, too little) to your ankles (showing too much, too little) and—exhausted, terrified—Bob’s guileless smile had felt too good, too kind, to be true. It was, of course, because thirty seconds later he touched you and you were blasted back to the most traumatizing day of your life, but somehow you had known he didn’t mean to do it. He fell all over himself apologizing. He found you, hours later, and offered to order you a pizza or shawarma, or whatever, and that shame room thing didn’t always happen, and he mostly had it under control…
When you came home from your first mission, high as balls on adrenaline and public adoration but sporting several new battle scars, you found that he had cleaned off a corner of the main bookshelf in the common room. A place for your stuff. There was a crooked cardboard placard there, handmade, with your name scribbled on it.
In the storm of egos and anti-social behaviors that were the team, he was an oasis.
Yelena did not stop talking.
“—if it’s about the pot head sweaters, I know, I hate them, too, but we could just take him shopping, it will take like ten minutes and then you two can finally--”
“It’s not about the fucking sweaters.” The walls shook from the unnatural clang of your voice. Yelena froze, gently plucking her hands from your shoulders and holding them up in mock surrender. You heaved for air, getting control of yourself, of your power. “He’s sweet. He’s gentle. I’m not that.”
Yelena nodded along, but you could tell she was coming to unrelated conclusions in her head.
The admission toppled out of you before you could stop it. “I’d ruin him.”
“You can’t ruin Bob,” she stated. “You weren’t there; you didn’t see it--he almost destroyed Manhattan through the sheer, terrible power of self-loathing. Bob is as ruined as he’s going to get, and we all suffered for it, but he’s trying to be something else now.”
“That’s the problem,” you said, curling your hands into fists. “You’ve met those other parts of him. I haven’t.”
“I’m working on it. But trust me, you really don’t want to meet the V-Man--”
You squinted, shifting closer to her. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. “What does that mean?”
“He’s working on it, I mean, of course,” she hurried to correct. “With his state-sponsored therapist.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Just…don’t write him off, okay?” Yelena asked, doing that puppy dog, pouty pleading thing that was annoyingly effective. She bent down and scooped up her stack of books. You had assumed she would forget them, that it was just a pretense to get you alone for this conversation. You tracked the novels in her arms as she shuffled toward the door. “Promise me you won’t write him off.”
Never. Never.
“No promises,” you said, and went to bed.
Sometimes Bob liked to take his book to Carlo’s and sit at the bar, eat a slice or two, and just watch the world go by. HQ was nice, of course, and they were gradually making it feel more lived in, but sometimes there was still a soulless, corporate quality to it that was a real god damn bummer. Carlo’s was real. The bathrooms smelled like the stuff they used to clean high schools, the coasters were mismatched, the pepperoni cups on the pies were always wrinkly and spicy, and they still had the red, bumpy plastic cups that somehow made the water taste good but also thrifted. The Rat Pack and only the Rat Pack crooned in mellow swells from the juke box, because Carlo’s grandson and the current owner would kick out anyone who tried to switch up the vibe.
The elderly Italian lady who bartended made sure there was a spot at the bar for Bob. She called him “sweetie” and refilled his sodas before he was even halfway done. It was a hidden gem, something he kept just for himself, which was why he was more than a bit surprised to see Yelena there on a Friday evening. This was usually the time when she and Ava took over the common room for their horror movie nights, but here she was, frolicking toward him with a book bag slung over one shoulder and enough mischief in her eyes to sound the early warning system in his head.
“This place is cute,” she said, settling in beside him.
Bob wedged a bookmark between two pages to hold his spot, watching as Yelena took the pizza crusts left on his plate and wolfed them down without asking. He didn’t want them, but still.
“How did you--”
“We have trackers, Bob. We all wear them?”
“Oh. Right.”
“I have something for you,” she said, heaving the bag onto her lap with a grunt. Just from the way it dented her thighs, Bob could tell it was heavy. “Start with this one.” Yelena reached into the bag and pulled out a worn, tattered paperback, shoving it toward him.
Bob looked around to make sure the elderly bartender didn’t see him holding a tattered copy of Mounted by the Warlord.
“It’s hers,” Yelena said before he could ask, then, pointing a finger at him, added teasingly, “do not sniff it.”
“Jesus, I wasn’t going to…”
“Phase One of the plan is go—read these and do some visualization exercises. Probably don’t tell your therapist about Phase One.”
Bob flipped the book over on his lap, afraid just touching it would put a scarlet letter on his forehead for the rest of time. “Okay, I won’t tell him because I never agreed to a plan or any phases--”
“Bob, please just try.” Yelena swiveled to face him on her stool, chin working side to side as she sized him up. “You never said you didn’t like her, by the way. You just gave me a bunch of excuses for why you hadn’t done anything about it.”
He fell quiet, spinning his cup in place and watching the pool from the condensation spread. “I wouldn’t be good for her. I’m not even one whole guy, I’m just…pieces.” Simply for something to do, something to keep his mind occupied, he flipped to a random page in the book. He squinted down at it.
The warlord loomed over her, and she was helpless before his power. “You are mine to take. I have no patience for your modesty, girl. Remove your tunic and spread yourself, show me all that is mine by rights to claim.”
Bob flopped the book toward her, pointing. “I can’t be this guy.”
Yelena quickly read the passage in question, clearing her throat. She didn’t even blush. “No, but Sentry?”
“I don’t think Sentry, Earth’s mightiest protector, should be this guy.”
Bob slammed the novel shut and tried to push it into her hands, but she dodged, grabbing him by the wrists until he had no choice but to relent and keep it.
“You keep sidestepping the pretend part,” Yelena pointed out, lifting a brow. “It’s okay to try different things, play dress up, put on different hats--unless you’re Walker, in which case hats are to be avoided at all costs.”
At that, Bob allowed a grim smile.
“Keep the book for now,” she said, leaving the bag behind on the stool that she slid down off of. He would, and further, he knew he would cave and read it. Probably that night. Probably in one sitting. God damnit. “I worked really hard to get that. I thought she was going to stomp me into paste when I asked to borrow them all.”
Bob fidgeted, fixed his hair. His temperature flamed just at the thought of you. He ran his fingers through the condensation pool to try and cool down. “Did she…” He glanced to the side. “Did she say anything…”
“Just that she’d like to meet all of you, Bob.” Yelena leaned in and tapped his knee before turning to go. “All of you. Me personally? I think you should let her. I think you won’t get anywhere unless you push yourself a little.”
Bob paid his tab, hooked the book bag over his shoulder, and drifted through the night to the subway. Maybe it was okay to try a different kind of homework, one that wasn’t worksheets and self-affirmations that filled him with thoughts and questions but not much else.
Bob stared out the window as the train ca-shookt ca-shookt over the tracks; two girls in their clubbing clothes whispered behind their hands across the aisle from him. The car shook, jostling the overfull bag on his lap. A novel fell out from the commotion, hitting his foot. Bob leaned down, making sure his hand covered the title as he jammed Mounted by the Warlord back in with its mates. Jesus. He shook his head, feeling ridiculous, his gaze unfocusing as he watched the dim lights in the tunnel flash by. It had a lulling effect, turning off the constant stream of checks and admonishments that dominated his mental landscape. And for a moment, his mind was empty, a smooth blank, before an image flashed before his eyes—an image of you on his bed, half-cloaked in shifting silver as rain pelted the window, his shadow falling across you, your eyes filled with excitement that verged on fear; all the power of the world was in his hands, and you knew it, and you liked it, and as he stepped closer, a voice came out of him that was cold and confident and demanding…
You are mine to take.
“Fuck.” Bob blinked, squeezing his temples, shaking himself out of that place. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the subway window, and not even the streaks and grime could conceal the faint glint of gold in his dark, dark eyes.
Saturday night. You had survived the charity event by the skin of your teeth, somehow with your patience and dignity intact, and you had every intention of rewarding yourself with a casual night that could go anywhere. No high heels. No high slits. No high expectations.
It was kind of a shame though, you thought, elbowing your way into your favorite bar, that no one else on the team had been there to see you all glammed up. Even Valentina had found a compliment for you, and a vast majority of your responsibilities for the evening became keeping important politicians from saying something deeply uncomfortable in front of their spouses. Nobody had prepared you for how weirdly touchy-feely people got with superheroes, like they were suddenly all drunk dads at Disney trying to feel up Princess Jasmine.
We’re not real to them. Does a symbol know it’s being sexually harassed?
A question for the next interminable banquet. It would’ve been nice to show everyone your dress, your makeup, your bag, but it would’ve been better if someone had come with to help fend off the creeps. Or at least make fun of them with you. You had ideas, of course, for ideal candidates. Candidate. Maybe next time you would beg Valentina to let Bob come along. How bad could it get? He needed the media practice, and he would look nice in a tux. James Bond if James Bond mostly rescued kittens. Seemed like the gentlest possible way of easing him into the job. Eat a few canapes, rub a few elbows, try not to combust when the mayor eye fucks you in front of his wife…
Speaking of sexual harassment, that would basically just be you taking a circuitous route to landing a date with Bob. A date he couldn’t refuse. Holy shit. Maybe not, maybe you’d just wait for him to make a move, which, at this rate, meant sometime during your retirement years.
You went to the bar and got in line. It was a black and white tiled floor, mostly pool, mostly beer and wings type of place. Unpretentious. Easy to blend in with a t-shirt, jeans, and ball cap if you were feeling extra solitary. You weren’t noticeable or beloved enough yet to draw a crowd even if someone did recognize you. Your accolades weren’t filling up the front page, and nobody was going to buy you a round for surviving the Perv Purge at the charity ball.
You breathed easier here. Your shoulders went down. The staff knew you, liked you, and always made friendly conversation when it was your turn to grab a beverage. Long, emerald lights glowed above the cash register. A few pool tables in the back provided pleasant click-clack percussion under the bluesy music. No juke box, thank God. You found your way to a circular table, high top, and perched there with your drink. The bar started to fill up, and you idly took out your phone, uploading a few choice pictures from the night before—the ones that made your legs look great, the one where the photographer had caught you in profile and the chandeliers made your silhouette glow. Almost as soon as they were live, you noticed a profile liking all of them back-to-back.
justyouraveragebob and two others liked your photo.
His instagram handle always made your heart squish. There was nothing average about him.
A shadow spread across your hands and your phone. You really, really didn’t want to be bothered, especially when Bob was somewhere shamelessly liking all of your hot pics, which was about as direct as he got with his flirting, but whoever it was, they didn’t budge. You sighed, not glancing up from your phone.
“Table for one, I’m afraid.”
“Come on, we’re not strangers.”
Your eyes raked up the screen to the man standing across from you. Just as quickly as your heart had somersaulted for Bob, it sank like a stone at the sight of Gilbert. Yes, Gilbert. No, you hadn’t known that was his name when someone from your last crew set you up on a blind date. It seemed crazy that he would turn up here. Gilbert wore seven-hundred-and-twenty-dollar Dior cufflinks. Gilbert had shoes made out of crocodiles. Gilbert had shot an honest to god lion on safari once. Gilbert had lunch at Eleven Madison Park on a bi-weekly basis, which he would absolutely make sure you knew within moments of making his acquaintance. The corpse of your last date wasn’t even cold, and here he was, that annoying fucking TikTok song come to life—trust fund, 6’5”, blue eyes. Although you were fairly certain he was maybe 6’3” on a good day; his crocodile shoes had lifts.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, placing your phone face down on the table, as if Bob could see what you were doing and you wanted to shield his eyes. “I don’t think there’s fennel pollen within six blocks of this place.”
Gilbert smirked, a default facial expression for him. Maybe you were being unkind. He had paid for the meal, held the door, said nice things about your outfit, and asked three standard questions about your life. You didn’t know if he would be a generous lover but maybe a tolerable one.
“My firm had a trivia night thing,” he said, answering your initial question. He had blonde, feathered hair that ruffled itself attractively when he moved. And he had tried to dress like a normal person, a light gray tee under a bomber jacket and jeans. “Just a few doors down,” he went on, pointing to the wall with his beer in hand. “Thought I would scope out the local attractions.”
At that, his eyes lingered on you.
“No fennel pollen required,” he added, with a wink and a laugh at himself. Another man bumped into him from behind, almost but not quite spilling his beer. Gilbert sneered, shoving the man back with a muttered, “Asshole.”
“Well, great,” you said, in a tone that you hoped communicated your total lack of interest. “It was nice bumping into you.”
He leaned in to shout above the music, which wasn’t even really that loud. “We could go somewhere else,” he said, keeping his face close to yours. “I can get us into Clemente no problem.
You smiled, tight. I’m one of the fucking Avengers; even with a z, I think I could get a table. “I’m good, thanks.”
Gilbert either hadn’t heard you or had decided not to care, barging on. “Their beverage program is second to none, the Real Talk will knock your socks off, we—”
“I said I’m good.”
He put down his beer, which was never a good sign, and moved around the table in a half-circle toward you. There was a slack, weird quality to his expression, like he was suddenly wearing a mask of his own face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his left hand start to move toward your hip under the table. Contact never came; Gilbert froze as a third person arrived, leaning onto the table like he belonged there.
Because he does.
“Hey, baby.” The first thing you noticed was that Bob had done his hair. Not a lot, just enough. He had ditched the Grateful Dead sweater for a simple, clean button down tucked into jeans that fit. Your eyes met under the red glow of the hanging BUDLIGHT-themed stained-glass lamp, and the insistent pressure of his eyes said: Trust me. Go with it.
“Hey,” you breathed, all of you bending toward him with relief. “You made it.”
Bob grinned, eyes only for you. “Sorry I’m late. Impromptu dance thing on the subway. I think maybe they were a cult? Not super clear. They should really work on their messaging.”
You snorted down into your drink. “Sounds like it.”
He moved in the opposite direction as Gilbert, melding against your left side like he was made to fit there. Your skin started buzzing from the ease of it, and from the flabbergasted expression on Gilbert’s stupid face.
“Who’s this?” Gilbert asked, allowing you a few inches of space as he sidled back toward his beer.
“This is Bo—”
“Robert,” he said, still with that cool, calculated smile, million-yard stare, but only when turned against Gilbert. He raked his gaze up and down the other man as if he had been forced at gunpoint to give him an ounce of attention. “And you are?”
“Gilbert.”
And because you knew Bob and Yelena were horrible eavesdroppers, you added softly, almost to Bob’s shoulder, “He’s in finance. Crypto.”
“It’s the future,” said Gilbert, certain.
“Oh.” Bob’s eyebrows went up with a flicker of a laugh. “Ha. Right. Makes sense.” He tapped the side of his nose as if to say, the cocaine guy?
“Excuse me?” Gilbert had started getting heated the moment Bob arrived, but now he looked like he might shoot through the ceiling like a rocket. “Did you just—”
“What are you drinking tonight?” Bob asked, simultaneously cutting Gilbert off from the rest of his sentence and the conversation at large. The world shrank down around you. You were in Bob’s warm embrace, his hand like a quietly pulsing star against your spine. He kept himself angled toward you, protectively, a preemptive shield. “Can I get you a refill?”
“I’m fine for now,” you said, showing him that you still had half of your drink left. Bob took that in stride, rubbing your back with a soft hum. “Gilbert was just telling me about the beverage program at Clemente Bar.”
Bob nodded once, as if any of those words made sense to him. “Beverage program,” he repeated, enjoying himself.
Gilbert chugged a few fortifying gulps of his beer, rightly sensing that the night was not going his way. “The chef there is—”
“Not relevant,” Bob said flatly. “Because she’s not going with you.” His tone brightened, almost cheerful, and for a moment, he was sweet, boyish Bob again. “But you have fun, Dilbert.”
“It’s Gilbert, freak.”
Bob waited for a beat, maybe giving Gilbert time to walk that back.
“Freak, is it?” Frost settled across Bob’s features. The lights above the pool table flickered. Just once. He didn’t move, or blink, and the small smile that tugged at his lips did not indicate pleasure, but rather the beginnings of an impatience that could expand into worse. Bob inclined his head slightly toward the other man; the music fizzled, going to static. You saw the glimmer of gold circling his irises as the air between you deadened. The beer bottle in Gilbert’s grasp shivered, popped, exploded so quickly into hot vapor that the glass didn’t have time to break. The sudden rush of heat sent Gilbert reeling back a step as he shook out his singed hands.
A cloud of steam rose between them and lingered, sizzling.
“Had enough?” Bob asked, lowering his voice to a glacial whisper.
“Psycho shit,” you heard the other man mumble before he dodged swiftly toward the exit, running.
When Gilbert was gone, you snort-laughed, leaning into Bob, expecting to glance up and see him smirking back at you. But Bob wasn’t present. The gold diminished in his eyes, but the specter of it never completely went away. A shiver caught you off guard. He noticed, and folded you more firmly against his side, the heat rolling off of his body and through his shirt was incredible. Your whole life had been about strangeness, power, but what you felt now radiating off of Bob—Robert—was hard to comprehend.
The power of a million exploding suns, that was how Yelena had put it. The pitch. The tagline. It sounded like an insane exaggeration at the time, but now…
His voice, rough, baritone, settled over you like a tight hug. “Did I frighten you?”
You stared up into his face. So. This wasn’t quite Bob and it wasn’t quite Sentry. Integration.
“No,” you said truthfully. Relief softened the cold blankness in his eyes. He didn’t seem interested in letting you go and you were not interested in moving back.
“I’m…trying something,” he said.
Earnest. Nervous. Your heart ached.
“How does it feel?” you asked, slowly pushing your half-finished drink toward him. He took a single, grateful gulp, but that was enough to empty the glass.
“Okay, I think, I’m still figuring things out.” Like he was test-driving a car. Like he was encased in a robotic suit. But you could hear Bob in there, nestled in alongside this other guy. “I’m gonna be honest, when the beverage program thing came up, I thought about making his head explode.”
“You and me both.” You hid your face in his shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter.
His hand tented on your back, less encompassing, less there.
You tensed, as if afraid to lose that point of contact.
“Is this alright with you?” he asked, flattening his palm again, touching more of you.
“Yes,” you said. You couldn’t help it. “I know this has to be scary for you, letting different parts of you take up more space. If you need to just be Bob—”
“No,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second. “No, I can’t…I have to live with my anger, I have to make friends with it. He can be an asshole but he’s not always wrong. I’m Bob, I’m him, I’m all of this.” He shook his head, eyes narrowed. “I’m not pretending. When I saw him bothering you, I wanted it to stop. That’s all I had to do, focus on the truth of the thing, and suddenly I could just do it. Be him. Be…me.”
You didn’t want to ruin the vibe with tears. You pressed your lips together, catching yourself. “I’m really fucking proud of you. Even just for trying.” He looked down at you, and you gazed up at him, not knowing exactly what had changed between you, only that something had. You could stay swimming in his eyes forever, you thought, float in the darkness, bask in the gold. “And maybe it was a tiny bit fun?”
“So fun, oh my God,” he agreed, snorting in a quintessentially Bob way. He rubbed your back again, leaning in, brushing a kiss across your forehead that made your skin ignite. Oh no. Yelena was never going to put away her shit-eating grin when she found out. “And is that alright with you?” he asked, doing it again when you nodded.
You pressed into his side, one hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt over his chest. “Can we get out of here?”
“Anywhere but Clemente Bar,” he teased, his nose in your hair.
You slid your hand into his—easy, comfortable—and he tugged you toward the door. “Who are we kidding?” you laughed. “We’re Avengerz with a Z, we’d never get a table.”
Bob couldn’t hear the decision itself, but he detected everything that surrounded it—the rasp of desperate breath; the jangle of a zipper; the sound of flop sweat hitting the pavement; the cock of the hammer; the implosion within the barrel; the singing of the bullet as it kissed the night air.
And his decision and his movement happened instantaneously, even before the projectile zipped toward you. Way before death was a sure thing. In a blink, he was at your side, then behind you, hand outstretched, not catching the bullet but stopping it in mid-air before it could slam into your shoulder. It flared into a burning red eye, melting.
“Shit, shit, shit…” Gilbert, fucking Gilbert, crouched in the alley outside the bar, fumbling with his revolver before deciding to cut his losses and run. All of these finance guys were getting into meth, he thought, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. And maybe he wasn’t; no, not surprised, just transmuting. Integrating. The gun turned to molten slag in the jerk-off’s hand, cold and metal again by the time it thunked to the pavement. Vaguely, Bob heard you calling his name, but he was already rounding on Gilbert, following him into the darkness.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on, what the fuck you are—” Gilbert broke into a frantic run, screaming over his shoulder. It was no effort to follow. It was a child’s game.
“Good observation,” Bob said, appearing in Gilbert’s path. “I’m still learning what I am, too. Maybe we should find out together.”
His hand closed around Gilbert’s neck, threatening, the flesh and the pulse and the blood of meager interest to a god. The facts of Gilbert were so sad, sad enough to make him wonder if the man ought to exist at all. That was the Void talking, because where Sentry went, Void followed. But then he saw you jogging down the alley toward them with a question in your eyes that Bob must answer.
Are you afraid of what will happen if Sentry or the Void become dominant?
You looked so alive, so beautiful, and Gilbert monstrously defaced by his own choices; the contrast fascinated him. Like a universe blinking out, heat death, he felt the impulse to destroy Gilbert vanish. A human man screamed inside him to remember—remember his own pain and how he had tried to numb it. And sympathy declared itself like a fourth voice; gradually, his grip eased on Gilbert’s neck.
“Go back inside,” he told you calmly. “I’ll be right back.”
“Bob—”
His eyes were bright hot in the darkness. “Trust me.”
There was no need for the subway; Bob flew you home.
You almost wished someone had been there to see it. Walker, preferably, so he could finally quit whining about fueling up the jet as if the gas came from his pocket personally. Or Alexei, who seemed fixated on the idea of one day riding Bob into the sky. Instead, the tower was quiet. You clung to Bob’s neck, forearms looped around him, legs kicked up into his grasp. It was, you thought, the most superhero thing that had ever happened to you. And as he set you down gently, allowing but not forcing you to glide fully down his front until your feet touched solid ground, you wondered if it would be too embarrassing to swoon.
Along the way, Bob had promised you that no real harm had come to Gilbert, that he had handed him over to the nearest precinct and waited until Gilbert confessed to his attempted murder. On an Avenger, no less.
“That was big of you,” you said, meaning it. Bob was still figuring out how to control this side of him—it was a miracle he had wrangled his impulses before doing something extreme. You watched his ears turn pink from the compliment as you walked back inside, where it was warm and smelled faintly of burned popcorn. “Your first night as the new you and no extrajudicial killings. That’s major.”
Bob shook his head, sticking his hands into his pockets. Now it came down to it—you stood chest to chest in the common room, both of your rooms in walking distance. But Bob kept his eyes on you. “You’re making fun.”
“I’m not,” you said, crossing your heart to show him. “I would tell you what happened the first time I felt my powers manifest…” Your voice dropped, no longer teasing, no longer giddy. “But you already know.”
The moonlight through the tall windows turned slivers of his hair silver. He touched your cheek, cupping your face. You held your breath, worried, briefly, that you would slide back into those ugly memories just from skin-to-skin contact. But you stayed where you were—in your new home, with your new….
“You were just a kid,” he told you, gentle. His eyes shined with all of the kindness and all of the grace that he rarely showed himself.
“I tell myself that all the time. Somehow, it never sticks.”
Bob tilted his head to the side and down, studying you. “What if I told you.”
You kept waiting for it to sound like a question. His eyes burrowed into you, deadly serious. “You just did, Bob.”
He shook his head, inching closer, not crowding, showing you how solid and real and overpowering his presence could become. Through his fingers, carefully channeled, you felt a growing, odd heat. “What if I told you over and over again,” he said, gold liminal in his gaze. It came and went, but you could sense Sentry just on the other side of his brittle restraint. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’ve already seen your darkness.” He brought his lips down carefully, his eyes locked to yours, monitoring, checking. His breath ghosted across your mouth, and you let him in.
“What about yours?” you asked, kissing his chin.
His composure cracked, just for a millisecond. His eyes changed rapidly, colors shifting, moods flying by, like someone clicking through slides, dark blue to black to gold to a gradient of all three. He shivered, closed his eyes, and kissed you. Both of his hands bracketed your face, thumbs just outside your lips. A rush of air. A feeling like falling. His lips slid against yours, hungry, seeking more. By the time you pulled back slightly for air, you realized you were no longer in the common room together but his quarters, both of you levitating inches off the ground.
“How did you do that?” you asked, grabbing his neck before you could fall. But he had you, and his smile was mild, amused, as he lightly set you both down.
“Does it matter?”
His eyes flared gold; the door shut behind him.
“No,” you whispered, mouth suddenly dry. “No, I guess not.”
Bob let go of you, hands at his sides, eyes falling to his feet. “I ruined it, I—”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” You hugged him, arms around his waist, and just as readily his hands found their way back to you, settling on your hips. “This is new for both of us.”
“Can I kiss you again?” he asked.
You leaned up and pressed your lips to his in answer. His heart hammered against your chest. A quiet, greedy sound rasped out of the back of his throat. The room was cold and dark, and his heat called to you. Your fingers crawled from his back to his shoulders to his hair, threading into the thick golden-brown waves that he had tamed that night just for you. Breaking the kiss, you thumbed a few loose strands of hair behind his ears, stroking his temples. “You can stop asking, Bob.”
He took you by the wrists, jaw tightening. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. You told me to trust you—I did.”
His eyes went up and down your body once, then burned into yours again. “How attached are you to these clothes?”
You smirked, curious. “Not very, I—”
A feeling like you had just stepped in front of a bonfire roared across your skin. Light shimmered up from your arms and torso, and then your t-shirt and jeans were dust scattering to the floor, disintegrated. Not a single hair on you had been so much as toasted. Bob touched your cheek again, his eyes difficult to read.
“Better,” he said.
It was juvenile, maybe, but that show of power thrilled you. There was steel behind his touch, hunger gathering in his gaze. He looked you up and down again, taking his time, absorbing the shudder that ripped through you as he drank in your body, his thumb jerking on your cheek when his gaze reached your breasts. They were caged in sheer fabric, the chill in the room and his heat drawing out your nipples, hardening them, every part of you desperate for more, for his touch.
You undid the top button on his shirt clumsily; you tried to move quickly but your fingers had stopped working, and it only got worse when he laughed softly at your distress. Bob took over, nodding toward the bed just behind you.
“Get on the bed,” he said. There was the slightest tremor in his voice, but by the time he spoke again, it was gone. “Show me what’s mine.”
Your eyes widened. Not in a hundred years had you considered those words would leave Bob’s mouth. You moved before he could register your hesitation. Not hesitation, just…wow. You remembered the feeling of your own clothes burning off of your body, something he had accomplished with a single thought. As you turned and crawled onto his bed, knees and palms sinking into the soft, dark blue flannel, you noticed a stack of books near the bedside table. You would’ve recognized them anywhere, even in the dark—they were yours.
A tide of conflicting emotions rose in your chest. It was incredibly sweet that he had made a close study of your desires. On the other hand, if this wasn’t him… You flipped onto your back, head at his pillows, to say as much, but the concerns died in your throat. You didn’t know who was standing there—Bob, Robert, Sentry, the Void—but the sight of him took your breath away. He stood at the foot of the bed, stripped down to his black boxer briefs, every perfect muscle visible in the gray slats of gloom allowed in by the half-tipped blinds. Maybe it was the perma pajama pants, but you had never noticed how unbelievably thick his legs were. Thighs. The word pulsed like a neon sign behind your eyes.
“What did I say?” he asked, in a voice of quiet command. Not angry, perhaps somewhat disappointed.
“S-Sorry.” The apology spilled out of you. Holy shit. It was one thing to read about a towering figure in the bedroom ready to control, ready to take, but experiencing it with a guy who could explode a gun with his mind was altogether different. It felt like you could levitate again, this time all on your own.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, his eyes rotating through that odd catalog of colors again as he tilted his head to the side. “Just do as I ask.”
Sir, yes, sir.
You tried to relax, but there was no hiding the shaking in your legs as you laid back against the pillows and rested your hands across your midsection, subtly opening your thighs as you stretched out. His eyes burned like stoked coals in the darkness, sharp lights in an anti-halo of shadow. A heartbeat later, he was on the bed, over you, his weight sinking the mattress at your sides.
“Jesus,” you whispered, jolting your head up to meet his eyes.
“Good?” he asked. Bob, you thought, he was in there.
You nodded, licking your lips.
Just as quickly as he had come, Bob receded again. His lips descended to your throat, searing across the delicate architecture there, down to your collarbone, across, learning, memorizing. “Maybe I need an outlet,” he said. “What am I? A god? A man? A monster?” His hips lowered until you were forced to twitch your thighs further apart to accommodate him. “Out there,” he went on, still dropping kisses across your neck, “I have to be so careful. But in here?”
His voice trailed away. You slid your hands across his back, molding your fingers around the hard juts of his shoulder blades. He made a pained sound against your throat, dragging his nose from your neck to your shoulder. His teeth closed around the ridge there, biting until you gasped and arched against him. “You,” he said, releasing the hold of his teeth, but blinking up at the ceiling, you knew there would be a mark there in the morning. “You. My outlet. For the god,” he whispered fiercely. “And the monster.”
Bob craned back, looking down at you. Checking. You wondered if the blend of them was becoming more seamless. He was waiting for you to fend him off, disagree, but instead you touched your forehead to his chin. Permission. He allowed himself one weak, ragged breath.
“Show me,” he said. “Show me that you’re mine.”
You took his right hand, sliding it from the mattress by your shoulder to your side, over your left breast and your heart, then down, guiding his palm over your stomach, beneath the waistband of your panties, and toward the soaking wet heat he had generated between your legs. His middle finger curled automatically into you. The power in the building surged, a transformer down the block splitting the silence with a thunderous boom. The sound startled you, your hips driving you against him, forcing him further inside. All of the lights went on in the room, twinkling in a sequence before turning themselves off again.
Both of you were holding your breath.
“What happens when you cum?” you whispered.
Bob supported himself on his left elbow, shook his head. “That’s never happened before.” He tossed his head again, eyes stuttering shut as if in disbelief. A second finger joined the first, shocking your hips up again. “Is this for me?” he asked.
“Yes.” You tightened your grip on his wrist as he twisted his fingers, pumping, searching, stretching.
“You’re so fucking wet.” Golden eyes found you in the dark, brightening, your bra and panties sizzling off of your skin until you were completely bare beneath him. He claimed your mouth with a brutal kiss, forcing your chin upward, then down, his tongue driving into you at the same rate as his fingers, setting a steady rhythm. “Let go of my wrist,” he said, breaking the kiss. His chest rose and fell, expanding like bellows. “Put your hands above your head. Don’t move them unless I tell you to.”
You did as he instructed, bracing your fingertips against the headboard.
“Good,” he said. He pulled his fingers out of you with a sound that made your ears burn. Wet wasn’t the word for it. The word hadn’t been invented yet. You whimpered at his absence. “Don’t worry,” he told you, reaching down to free his cock from his shorts. His voice seemed to fill the room, infiltrate you from every direction. “Beg for it. Beg for it from your god.”
He drove home the command with a glimmer building in his eyes. He wasn’t even touching you anymore, but you felt a whisper of pressure around your clit, circling, teasing. You shivered and clamped down on nothing, whispering his name. He waited, patient, never increasing the speed of that sensation, making it spread, flickers of energy circling your breasts, skipping up and across your nipples until it felt like they were being lightly, teasingly electrified. You felt it in your teeth. Helpless, you flexed the hands wedged above your head, desperate for relief. Your back bent toward him, but Bob remained still, letting you torture yourself until the words clawed their way out of your throat.
“Please, Robert,” you whispered, fighting the waves of pleasure contorting your spine. “Please, I need you. Please, Jesus, it’s too much.”
The touching without touching had been bad, but when he made it stop, that was worse. You slithered back down to the mattress, breathing hard, gasping as he crawled over you, urging your thighs wider before pressing his lips to your ear. His hot, swollen dick pulsed against your thigh, brushing at such tantalizing range you heard yourself whine like a frantic animal. “I’m going to fuck you now, and if it destroys the power grid then so be it.”
He scooped you against him, one arm braced under your lower back, his other hand guiding his cock to your entrance. There was so little resistance it made you both exhale; no more waiting. Stretch but not resistance, your body was ready for him, soaked and pliant. Bob rewarded you with a biting tug on your earlobe, his breath shuddering against your neck as he fit himself inside you to the hilt and groaned. You smiled at the thought of making a fucking god moan like that.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, ragged. “You’re beautiful. You look so beautiful when I fuck you.”
He worked his hips back and forth, giving you a preview of just how much delicious friction that could produce. A string of lights stapled around the border of his ceiling sparkled on, warming the space above his head. Your thighs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his sides, technically not against the established rules, and seemingly to his taste. He hummed with approval, slapping both of his palms against your upper thighs as he knelt, shifting his weight, pushing into you on a long, devastating stroke.
“Fuck.” Your head fell back, air blasting out of your lungs.
“You seemed to like this before,” he said, laughing against your throat. “Let’s try it again.” Those cruel, teasing flickers of hot energy coiled around you again, tracing maddening circles around your clit, your peaked nipples, the ends of your toes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Even if those lights hadn’t turned on you would be seeing stars. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, wry. “To give up control? Give yourself to me? Because now that I have you, I could do anything. Anything.”
The energy was everywhere now, coursing through you, pinging through every cell, mapping every corner of your body. You felt him in your throat, behind your knees, along the inner coils of your ears, zapping your tongue. You arched and cried out for him and then fell silent, dumb, just letting the insane, raw beauty of his power tingle in your blood. Bob fucked into you harder, sweating, his hair damp as it clung to your shoulder. Down the street, another transformer erupted, a dog barked. The air around you sizzled. He angled your hips slightly, finding a new depth, holding his own orgasm at bay long enough to leave you panting, dazed, fucked into a place where your mind had gone blank. There was just him. Just his eerie energy moving through you. He could do anything. Anything.
“Please,” you murmured, wishing you could hold him, touch him, rake your nails down his back in pent up gratitude. “Please I’m so close.”
“That’s good,” he said, shoving his forehead against your jaw. Finally, he sounded as wrecked as you did. He was coming undone, close, close, driving, swelling… “Let go. Show me.”
The little gusts of heat he had been controlling coalesced around your sex, concentrated on your clit, spiraling inward, faster, faster, until the glittering, live wire mesh that had been tightening around your body snapped shut, heat rocketing through your core, burning a clean line from your abdomen to your eyeballs. You couldn’t keep your hands away from him any longer. You clung to his shoulders, sobbing out the shocks that had nowhere to go but out.
It sent him over the edge.
Bob ground you into the mattress, holding himself deep, whispering something you couldn't make out as he jerked and bucked and filled you until it felt like you might burst. Jesus, every part of him was powerful—you had never felt someone cum like that, distinct enough to push another little climax through you.
His chest worked against yours, his breathing evening out after a prolonged, sweaty moment of total entangled bliss. He let you go gently, setting your legs down as if they might break, but he didn’t climb off of you. Lowering himself with utmost care, he nestled against your body, face in your neck and arms around your middle. The string lights were still glowing faintly, like you were just two horny losers in a college dorm. As you came back to yourself and opened your eyes, every single object in his room except the bed was floating.
“Now we know what happens,” you said softly, carding your fingers through his hair. Just from the weight of him, from the sweet way he kissed your throat and held you like his life depended on it, you could tell Bob was back in control. He turned his head, looking around at the desk, the lamp, the laundry basket, the sneakers, all suspended as if you were in outer space. Coughing, perhaps with embarrassment, Bob gradually let the objects float back down. His hands tightened on you in concentration.
“Do…do you think everyone heard us?” he asked, hiding his face against your skin again.
“Probably.” You laughed, relaxing against the pillows as he finally rolled to the side, freeing himself from you with a groan as he crumpled to your right. “I don’t mind,” you said, reaching for him. “It’s okay if they know I’m yours.”
Bob blinked at you, a shy, boyish smile pulling his lips to one side. “I’m yours, too. You know that, right? I…said a lot of stuff at you just now. I hope it was okay.”
“It was more than okay,” you assured him. “Like you said. An outlet.”
“This is gonna blow the tits off my integration therapist,” he muttered, covering his face with both hands. “I’ll maybe gloss over some parts. Like where stuff exploded. And the burning your clothes off with my mind thing.” He shrugged and flopped onto his side, gazing at you adoringly from his pillow. “I’ll, um, I'll buy you new jeans.”
You snuggled closer, fitting your face against his chest. He pulled you in, sighing. It seemed right, the way you fit together.
You leaned up for one more kiss. “Fine, but only if you promise to burn them off again.”
A little zap of energy coasted up and down your back. “Deal.”
