wildcat lover

Bob spends the hour listening to her breathing.

He doesn't want to try any kind of healing until he knows what state she's in, until she can function normally. But he reasons, as long as her heart beats, he can breathe too. 

He thinks about what he'll tell her, once they're back at the Tower. How he'll try to make her laugh. How he'll make her a cup of tea, rub her tired shoulders. Maybe, as Bucky encouraged him, finally get the courage to tell her how he feels.

Anything, as long as she's okay.

Sometimes he closes his eyes, imagining how it would feel to sleep beside her. She's almost peaceful as she lies beside him, as he strokes her hair, as he sings close to the shell of her ear so softly:

"Now, do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?..."

*

Waking up, Yelena licks her lips, tasting blood. The air feels hot and dusty, the ground solid beneath her, and her head hurts like a motherfucker. She blinks grit out of her eyes. It's quiet, and a strange little ache of fear catches her chest. A fear that she's been left alone.

The feeling is pervasive. And it's not just that, she realizes as it takes hold of her. It's Where's Bob?

As it turns out, he's lying beside her.

She hears and feels him before she sees him - a warm nudge of his arm against her own. A somewhat familiar melody, hummed softly in his deep register, before it stops abruptly.

"Oh, hey," he says, a note of anticipation heightening his tone. "You're awake."

Yelena's voice is gravelly, and her words are a jumble as she scrunches her face. "Oh, no...did we explode again?" She pauses, looking down at their bodies, at their arms side by side. "Except...I don't remember you in my shame corner in the woods again."

"You mean neck of the woods?"

"No, I mean shame - you know what I mean," Yelena moans at the twinge in her head, blinking askance at him. 

But Bob doesn't look like he's been caught in a blast as of late. He looks, actually, rather comfortable - supine, legs splayed out, fingers laced together, hands resting on his abdomen. His lean-muscled arms are bare in a white t-shirt.

"No, it's okay." His head is turned toward her, as if he's been waiting politely for her to wake. His curls frame his concerned expression. "We're safe now."

Yelena starts to sit up, winces, thinks better of it. "What happened?"

Bob glances down his jeans at his sneakers, wiggling them a little, like a nervous tic. "You've been knocked out cold for about an hour," he says low. "The assailant you were fighting hit you pretty hard. And when you went down..." He stops, swallows. "I, uh. Intervened."

Yelena's eyes go wide. 

"I punched him," Bob clarifies sheepishly, then mumbles, "Couldn't stand seeing you get hit like that. It was -" He frowns, and his voice breaks a little. "It was brutal, and I just lost it. I was so worried for you."

It was only recently that the team had agreed to let Bob escort them on missions, Yelena remembered that much. He'd been progressing well, honing his powers as Sentry and making strides in therapy the last few months. He was overjoyed when they relented, having spent all this time anxiously awaiting their returns in the Tower, doing what he could - dishes and all - but wishing he could only be more useful.

Yelena scrunches her brow. "How long have you been waiting there?"

"Oh, the whole time," Bob says softly, nodding. "I wanted to be here when you woke up, and I convinced the team to let it be me while they finished the mission. They thought it was best not to move you while you were, um, unconscious. We're kind of in a medical desert."

"I don't even remember where the mission was posted." Yelena squirms and manages to sit up at last, if only to chance a look around, but her vision is fuzzy and everything is reeling. Her armor has been carefully removed, as though she's been checked for internal bleeding. Her white tank top is dirty and her tactical pants are ripped up. "Ugh." She touches her temple, feeling tenderness. Definitely leaving a bruise. 

"Hey, hey, don't move too fast." Bob frowns, scrambling to kneel in front of Yelena, holding her gently by the shoulders to steady her. His eyes dart over her face before landing on her gaze. Two blurry Bobs swim before her. "Yelena, I'm - I'm no doctor, but I think you have a concussion."

Yelena groans, pouts. "What? No, you're the one with memory problems."

Despite himself, a little chuckle escapes Bob. He looks really cute when he smiles like that, she thinks. 

"I'm a Widow." Yelena's bruised, but so is her ego. "You know, the last time this happened, I still got my hooks in him before he could give me the slip. Am I losing my edge or something, like -"

"No, no," Bob insists, and his brows are knit together as he scans her face. Then, like a reflex, he tucks an errant strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Never."

Yelena can't help but smile at his eager reassurance. Then a pang splits her head like a lightning flash, and she whimpers behind clenched teeth. 

"Come here, c'mere, I got you," Bob says quickly, and his hands come to rest on her temples, holding her still. Yelena freezes, blinking. 

"What are you doing?" she asks, but her tone of voice has softened considerably. 

Bob's eyes go wide, and his fingertips twitch a little against the sides of her face, like he's feeling for something. "I uh, sorry - I just think I can help. Before we can actually get you checked out, I mean."

His hands are warm, and his face is growing flushed. 

"What do you - " Yelena begins.

"Just a second," Bob insists, deep blue eyes locked on hers. "Try to, um...just stay still."

His breath is shallow as he focuses. Yelena can feel it stirring between them. 

She doesn't move. Doesn't speak. For what seems like eternity he remains kneeling in front of her, eye contact unbroken. 

The little worried pinch between his eyes is still there. But his irises are laced with a bright gold now, and his expression is soft. His lips are parted. Yelena finds herself deeply distracted by that fact. 

The throbbing in Yelena's head begins to dissolve, like Bob's fingers are delicately pulling threads of pain out of her. The sensation, faster than ibuprofen and a more pleasant shock to the system than a shot of vodka, is nothing short of magical. 

Then Bob shudders. His breathing gets shaky. His eyelids flutter, and he studies her whole face - down to her lips.

"There," he murmurs. His hands begin to give way, but he pauses. His thumb brushes her cheek, just once, a seemingly involuntarily gesture. "Better?"

"Yeah...yeah, so much better, actually." Yelena touches the back of her head, where the pain has stopped blooming completely. 

"You sure?" Bob pauses, his hands finally sliding back down to her shoulders, resting lightly there again.

"One hundred percent sure." Yelena's voice, and all her senses, come into crystal clear focus. She cracks her neck, and it feels amazing. "Wow. Thank you. When did you add the healing to your powers?"

"It's involved in the telekinesis, if I concentrate hard enough." Bob tilts his head slightly, glancing up at her between his wavy brown locks. "I've been practicing for this kind of thing. You really had me worried there, Lena," he says softly, and his hands finally fall away from her.

And something about the way her name in short form slips out - familiar, with a note of longing - prompts her to say it. 

"Don't stop," she says quickly, urgently. 

It comes out like a command - but in the almost desperate way reserved only for Bob. 

Bob, stay.

Bob swallows, pupils blown wide. "Don't stop...?" 

"Don't stop touching me," Yelena blurts out, and her voice is quivering at the edges. "Please."

Bob doesn't question it, at first. He only hears Yelena ask for something, and everything in him desires to comply. 

So he reaches for her again, resting his fingers on the sides of her face.

"You want - you want me to keep doing this?" he asks, uncertain. "Are you still feeling -"

Very slowly, Yelena shakes her head. "I just want - " she begins, her smoky voice broken. "I need this."

She leans into his touch. Closes her eyes.

And Bob understands now. Yelena...wants his hands on her. 

The thought makes his mouth dry and his insides clench, quickens his pulse, sends a jolt of pleasure down below his waist. 

Bob exhales, and his words come out in a rush. "Then I won't - I won't stop touching you."

"That would be good."

"Yes."

A pause. They both wait, aching, in the silence. Yelena's eyeliner is smudged. Bob can only notice how pretty her hazel eyes are.

"Hey, what song were you humming," Yelena asks, "before I woke up?"

"Well, um - I mostly sang to you," Bob admits. "'American Pie', mostly. Your dad said it was your favorite lullaby and that it might help you come to. And that made me think of other good oldies, you know, the ones that make you feel happy and nostalgic. Journey and Abba and stuff. And that one was, um, 'Kiss You All Over' by Exile."

Yelena nods. "That was a good one."

Bob's expression is still intense, but in a different way. He looks her over not just with care - but, given her permission, with hunger. His breath grows heavy with each rise and fall of his chest. 

Finally, he shatters. His deep voice is tentative, but intent.

"If I kissed you right now," he says, "I wouldn't be able to stop, either."

"Oh." Yelena moves closer. Just an inch, and it's enough. "Oh, like - " she begins.

"All over," Bob says raggedly, swallowing. His chin is tucked down, and he looks up at her through dark eyes.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need that too," Yelena whispers, gaze falling to his mouth. 

They're only a breath apart when Bob's fingertips melt into open palms against either side of her face, pulling her in just enough.

His mouth is soft, tender on hers - and just underneath it, barely concealed, is a desperate, frantic need.

He's still kneeling, and Yelena leans into his kiss, rising on her knees to meet him. She wraps her arms around his waist, presses her body up against his. Mirroring his physical contact in every sense.

It's enough to make Bob, the man with the power of a thousand suns, go weak. 

It's one thing to be touched like this, with a kind of certainty and desire he'd never known, and another altogether that it's her. The one person he's ever felt anything this strongly for.

Just when he's sure it can't get any hotter, Yelena's hands move to his hips and push him down with a little force. Even if she'd used all of her strength, normally he wouldn't budge - but since it's her, he loses all resistance.

And Yelena loves to push him around a little. Loves how pliable he is with her, how it clearly turns him on. His moan trembles, sweet and soft at the edge of her lips. 

Yelena climbs onto his lap, straddling him as she deepens the kiss, and Bob goes fully rigid under her weight, her heat. Her boldness and confidence send a shiver up his spine, make his brain turn to mush. 

"Oh, my god," he murmurs against her neck as soon as her kisses trail down his jaw, and it's all he can say, all he can process. "Jesus christ."

His hands are in her hair, and his cock is throbbing between her thighs. He feels her tighten around him, then start to rock against him, and he's done for.

"All over, huh?" she teases him, voice breathy in his  ear. "Show me."

Bob knows they're in a remote location right now. That they're alone, that no one's going to stumble upon them. But either way, he feels like nothing could have stopped them from having each other right then and there. 

He's usually one for slow and steady, but with Yelena setting the pace, this moment calls for urgency. Bob finds the edge of her tank top, peels it off in one fell swoop, tosses it aside. Yelena looks just as surprised as he does, and holy fuck she looks amazing, he thinks, her hair messy and her plush lips soft and open, her small breasts peeking over a low-cut sports bra. 

She pulls his sweat-laced t-shirt up over his head, runs her hands over his toned chest and abs, growls a little. 

"I hope you're prepared to be eaten alive," she says. 

"Oh, yeah, the widow thing," Bob pants, a smile breaking his mouth. He loves this, knew it would be like this between them - playful and relentlessly passionate at the same time.

"Mmm, I think it's a you and me thing." Yelena's hips grind steadily against him now, driving him insane. Bob tilts his head back, closing his eyes, a whimper escaping behind his lips. "I don't think anyone has ever wanted to devour someone this bad."

"Oh, then I'll - I'll gladly die for this," he insists deliriously, and the hands gripping her hair move down her back, tentatively cradling her ass and thighs. "You got me right where you want me."

Yelena smirks, deftly unbuckling his belt. "You're so gentle with me, Bob. You don't have to be. I trust you."

His blush creeps all the way to his ears as she works his jeans off. "I just wanna take good care of you."

It's so rare since Yelena has heard anyone express this, and it makes her melt into his kisses again as she wiggles her panties off. He watches her with adoration as she lowers herself to him. 

They're face to face in this position, and the intimacy of it is overwhelming in the best possible way. Yelena strokes his back as she takes the full length of him inside her, rolling her hips.

Tears spring to Bob's eyes. He can't help it. She looks so radiant, and they feel so perfectly made for each other like this.

She fucks him slow at first, and he's an utter wreck, feeling her hot wetness pulse around him, making needy sounds in his throat. She pulls him to her, and his lips come home to the hollow of her throat, inching across her collarbone, dipping down to her breasts.

"I love you," he says against her skin between kisses. "Love you, Yelena."

And she says it back. Whispers his name breathlessly, picking up her rhythm. 

Bob loses nearly all his ability to form thoughts as he traces kisses down her sternum, back up to her neck, across her shoulders. 

He's right on the cusp of finishing, barely holding back until Yelena's breath hitches and her hips stutter, riding him faster and harder.

The second she clenches around him, drenching him in slickness, his climax soars through him. He grips her tight, spilling into her, gasping obscenities. Yelena doesn't let up one bit, and it's not until he's thoroughly ridden and boneless that he returns to kissing her everywhere. 

Because Bob isn't satisfied until he's kept his promise. Until he settles her back on the ground, trails kisses down her stomach and thighs, spreads her legs, and tongues her all the way down to her swollen clit. Licks himself out of her, makes her see stars again. 

When and only when he's seemingly tasted every inch of her does he say, with a knowing grin, "Yeah...all over."

Yelena's sex-drunk smile matches his as she pulls him to her chest, combing her fingers through his hair with a contented sigh.

*

Neither of them know how much time has passed while they lie cuddled up in their afterglow. Only that once they're dressed, they have to get back to the Tower somehow.