If you like it, I love it

His muscles flex under your touch and you lift his shirt, smoothing your fingertips along his warm skin.

He wiggles against you and when you move higher to pinch his nipples he let’s out a surprised hiss.  You give his pecs a few good squeezes and then saunter off to the couch.

He turns to give you a perplexed look but you pay him no mind and scroll through your phone.

Later, when he’s bent over and onloading the dishwasher you walk by looking for a snack and smack his ass hard.

With a yelp he stands up straight and stares at you.

“Doll?”

“What’s up Buck?” you ask as you search for the cookies. “Have you seen the Oreos?”

He just watches you silently.

“Oh! Here they are!” you sing before walking off with your treat.

That same night after the laundry is done you walk into the bedroom with the basket and drop it to the floor, taking out your clothes to fold them. Bucky comes out of the bathroom and gives you a kiss then goes to grab his own clothes and do the same.

As he’s bent over and sifting through them you situate yourself behind him and grab hold of hips, pumping your own against them in a rapid motion. He nearly falls over in surprise and you have to stifle a laugh before you go back to putting away your own things as if nothing has happened.

You can feel his intense gaze as you move around the room but you do your best to ignore him.

After the laundry is sorted you fall onto the couch and search through Netflix for something to watch. Bucky plops down next to you and pulls you against him, snuggling closer.

“Anything good?” he asks.

“Not yet,” you answer and hand him the remote.

With the movie long over you shift in Bucky’s arms, slowly starting to wake back up and realizing you both fell asleep on the couch. He’s still passed out but you manage to lift his metal arm off you and sit up.

You spot your banana, left on the coffee table from earlier, and your lips spread into a grin. With careful and quiet movements you peel it and turn to face Bucky, laughing when you see his mouth hanging open with his deep breathing.

Without thinking you shove the banana between his lips.

He starts to choke and sits up in a flurry of wild movements and muffled curses. When he finally calms down and catches his breath he looks at you and then at the banana and then back to you again.

“Did you just….? Was that…? WHY doll?!??!”

You fall over in a fit of laughter, curling into yourself and unable to respond.

You can hear his huffs and feel his eyes but it only fuels your giggles.

“I’d like an explanation when you’re done doll face,” he states, tone serious.

That quells your laughter and you shoot up and glare at him with your finger in his face.

“YOU…. want an explanation mister?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing your finger to drag you closer.

His hands land on your waist and he pulls you into his lap. “Let’s hear it. I wanna know why you’ve been groping me all day…smacking my ass, feeling me up, putting stuff in my mouth, humpin’ me…and then walkin’ off to leave me hanging! I’ve had blue balls all day!”

Your mouth hangs open and you blink several times.

“Is this the part where I stick a banana in your mouth?” he asks with a smirk.

Your eyes narrow and you grit out, “you really don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” he says, taking your face in his hands.

“This is what you do to me ALL DAY EVERY DAY!”

His eyebrows draw inward and he begins to protest but you give him a warning scowl.

He huffs and sits back against the couch, taking you with him. He’s quiet for a while, clearly playing back memories of his crimes.

“Well…” he starts, his blue eyes wide, “I mean…sure I smack your ass…but I love your ass.”

“Mm hm,” you say with pursed lips. “And?”

“And…it’s hard not to squeeze your boobs when you’re washing the dishes. Your hands are busy and mine aren’t and I love your boobs sooo…”

“Uh huh Buck.”

“And how do you expect me not to want to stick it in every time you bend over…it’s like putting it on display and asking me not do one of my favorite things!”

He’s getting more and more flustered as he continues.  

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I’ve never stuffed my dick in your mouth without you wanting me too!”

You stare at each other, both trying to hold it together but when you see the corners of his eyes start to crinkle you break and fall into his chest with a laugh.

“Ok, I’ll give you that one,” you mumble before sniffing his Henley.

He laughs harder, tightening his hold on you and then kissing any spot of your skin he can find.

“Do I sniff you a lot too?” he teases.

“You do, but I think I sniff you more,” you giggle.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you burrow into him, inhaling his skin.

“Just wanted you to get a taste of your own medicine,” you whisper.

You pepper his cheek with kisses and sit up to look at him, frowning when you see his expression.

“Bucky?”

“Do you hate when I do those things,” he asks quietly.

“NO!” you tell him. “I love when you touch me.”

“Are you sure?” he says, looking worried. “It’s because you’re my favorite and I love to feel you and touch you all the time.”

“Of course I’m sure baby, don’t worry and I know,” you assure him. “Today was a lot of fun for me. I loved getting my hands on you. Think I’ll do it more often.”

You smirk deviously then kiss his pouting lips.

“Ok good,” he whispers, slipping his hand behind your neck to keep you close. “Because today might have been the best day of my life.”

“Oh,” Peter’s did that kicked-puppy thing and Bucky even pouted a tiny bit. “Why not?”

“Because they are busy! Y/n is busy with her freshman year of college and Sarah has two children!”

“Her sons could definitely come too.” Bucky butted in.

“And I’m in my freshman year too so, like, we could help each other out...”

“Fine, the real reason is ‘cause I'm not telling them because I refuse to watch you both flirt with my sisters for hours!”

“You don’t have to watch—.”

“As if I have the confidence to flirt with her outright—.”

But Sam just cut across his throat with the blade of his hand, putting a stop to both of their unnecessary commentary. “Not! Happening!”

Two laptops pinged with an e-vite each a couple hours later.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

She stood from the sectional with a scowl. “I was invited, big head. By someone who clearly likes me and wants me to have fun unlike my flesh and blood.”

“Is Sarah here too?!” Sam asked already looking for her. When he found his other sister, his face fell in an unamused glare. She stood with Bucky at a high tip table together nursing drinks. Bucky had that stupid ass grin on his stupid ass face that Sam knew meant trouble.

“I’m calling both of y’all an Uber.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god! Samothy—.”

“Don’t do that.”

“—Anthony—.”

“Why you gotta make shit up?”

“—Wilson! What is your problem with us enjoying ourselves?”

“It’s not yall, it’s these damn wh–.”

“Here’s your drink, Y/n! And they’re making more of those little shrimp hors d’ouvres you liked–.” Peter clammed up as soon as he noticed Sam, and what’s more, noticed the grimacing glower in his face. “Oh, h-hey, Mr. Wilson! I was um, just getting to know your sister more.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve learned enough. She’s leaving soon.”

“What??” Peter asked, turning eyes in mild panic towards her.

“Like hell I am! You know what? This part of the room is getting real stuffy and preachy. I think I wanna check out the balcony and get some air. Come on, Peter,” with her nose turned up, Y/n walked away from her brother without a backwards glance to see if Peter followed.

Peter looked between her retreating form and Sam’s face promising pain.

“Just know that I’m super conflicted right now,” Peter said even while hesitantly making his way after Y/n.

“Don’t you dare—.”

“Peter?”

“Coming!”

Monday

Tears are still drying on your face when you wake from the dream, sadness is a pit in your stomach that hasn’t left you for the last year. It hadn’t hurt this badly in months. You could still taste him on your tongue, feel his touch lingering on your skin…

You reach over to the picture on the small table next to your bed, let your fingers trace over Bucky’s face. A year ago you had been in love, smitten with your life and lover. A year ago you were happy. That made sense though. A year ago, Bucky was still alive.

You sniff, wiping away the lingering tears, and let your mind drift back to the dream you had been having, an unpleasant mix of despair and desire rising up in you at the images in your head. Bucky enters the room, pulling the covers away from your prone body, laying himself next to you, his warmth enveloping you completely. You feel safe, loved, wanted. His fingers pulling your bed clothes to one side, those same fingers  entering you… It’s a very graphic dream, it feels almost like a memory. You shake your head a little, and then get up, leaving the coldness of the bed that’s always half empty and head to the shower, turning up the water to almost scalding.

You still use the shower gel that Bucky had liked, the scent of it soothed you even now, like you still had him close by. You frown as you wash between your legs, you’re wet, and you feel almost sore. You hadn’t slept with anyone since Bucky’s death, you couldn’t move on from him, how could you? But it felt like you had-

Your hand soap falls off the side of your sink, startling you out of your wonderings, and you quickly finish up your shower and get out. You’re drying off, wrapping a towel around yourself when you pick up the container and carefully place it back on the side of the sink. You never kept it near the edge of the sink, but maybe you’d knocked it closer when you were washing your face? You look up and stare at your fuzzy reflection in the mirror, the steam from the shower still misting one side of it in a wave.

Bucky’s scent is strong against your skin, clear as day, your eyes close to capture that moment in the dream again, where he held you as he made you come on his fingers…

“Miss you so much.”

Your eyes open to your reflection, and that still misting mirror. You leave the bathroom before you can start crying again, and head to work.

Tuesday

Your apartment smells like Bucky again when you walk in, but then you had gone a little crazy with the shower gel this morning before heading to work, and you’d even found some of his cologne, spritzing just a little at your neck and wrists. You’d awoken again feeling both desperately sad and desperately needy, it was an emotional cocktail you didn’t appreciate. Maybe it was because it had been so long since you’d last been held by him, maybe it was because it was past the anniversary of his death, who really knew? All you knew was that after a year of total numbness, your body and emotions had gone into overdrive and your sleep was constantly filled with the almost too real feelings of Bucky's hands and mouth, his cock…

You take off your shoes and head into the kitchen, making yourself some tea to calm yourself down, a thought barely passing through your head that you had more milk in the refrigerator than you remembered. You spend the evening trying to read, but it’s impossible. Your eyes stray to every picture of Bucky you have out, it’s like you can feel his eyes on you. You’re alive and he isn’t.

You get to bed and the covers are turned down. You must’ve forgotten to make it before you left.

Wednesday

The scent of cedar and spice is in the air, your eyelids flutter against the velvet black of the night, your curtains fluttering against the open window…

“You feel so good, doll, I missed you…” Your leg is hooked over Bucky’s waist, his cock is slowly thrusting in and out of you. The cold tips of the fingers of his left hand toy idly with your clit, “I missed this so much.”

“Don’t leave me again, Bucky.”

“Never. I promise.”

The sun is shining through the curtains, the sound of the birds muffled through the closed window when you next open your eyes. You’re exhausted even though you feel like you’ve been heavily asleep, and again your heart breaks at the vivid memory of your dream. Bucky had always liked to make love to you that way, holding you against him, arms snaked around you, fingers and lips doing what they will to you. Bucky was a masterful lover, he could make such a position playful, sensual, or rough. Any of them suited you, because it was with him, you loved Bucky, more than you wanted to breathe most days.

Your day at work drags, your eyes feel like you’ve been sleeping in sand, itchy and sore. You can’t concentrate, you feel like everyone is watching you, even though every time you look up from your work, no one is staring at you, in fact no one is even paying attention to you at all, but the feeling of being watched persists nonetheless. It’s unsettling, especially in a city like Manhattan where people can be watched, stalked, killed without anyone knowing what was coming until too late.

“Sam?”

It’s dark now, your apartment was freezing when you walked in, the window to your bedroom was open when you could’ve sworn you closed it. You were so tired though, maybe it had just been a stupid lapse in memory, but still, you were unsettled so you called Bucky’s best friend. You hadn’t spoken to Sam since a few months after the funeral, you’d almost deliberately put him at arms length, refusing to engage with him, and Sam Wilson was Captain America now. He was busy, too busy to constantly try and make you talk to him, so he’d given up. 

“Hey, you, how’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

“Ummm… not well… I mean, I’m fine, I think, I just-”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Hydra is gone, right?” You blurted out the question, forcing the name of the terrorist organisation from your mouth even though it hurt to say the name of the people who’d murdered Bucky, “You and everyone else took them out after Bucky?”

Sam is silent for a minute, you can hear his breathing get choppy, but he coughs and finally responds, “Are you okay? Yes, Hydra is gone, for real this time.”

A year ago Bucky hadn’t realised he’d been stalked by a small but terrifyingly smart fraction of the remainder of Hydra, not until it was too late. They’d followed him, mapped out his movements, and then ambushed him. Bucky had died in an alley, from multiple gunshot wounds to his body. It was so bad they wouldn’t let you see him until the funeral, the open casket containing a body that looked so unlike the man you’d loved you’d broken down in front of everyone.

“I promise, Y/N. Sharon and I spearheaded that cleanup. They’re gone, they’re never going to hurt you again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” You rub the skin over your eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, Sam. I haven’t been sleeping well, I guess.” You think you can smell Bucky’s cologne again, you almost feel him at your back, a ghost of a memory as you speak his name into the earth, “I just miss Bucky. So much.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

You spend a few minutes more talking to Sam, asking how Sharon is, how his family is, and then breaking the conversation off when you feel tears fall. 

You fall asleep and dream. 

Bucky is like an indistinct shadow as he slides into your room. He kisses you as you sleep until your lips part for him, and then he slides his cock into your mouth, in and out, in and out, his metal fingers on your jaw almost painful, holding you open for him until he comes down your throat.

“I wish you could talk to me instead of Sam, doll. Guess your mouth will have to do something else, huh?”

When you wake up on Thursday, your throat hurts, and your jaw aches. You have to use more shower gel than normal again to wash the scent of Bucky off you that you know shouldn’t be there. The steam from the shower swirls around you, swirls around a space in the corner of the bathroom, bringing your attention to it…

Your towel slides off the rail, and you almost slip. Heart pounding, you curse up a storm under the scalding water, and deliberately start to use your own softer scented shower gel instead of Bucky’s. When you get out, the bathroom door is open just a crack, the steam slowly wafting out. Your reflection is still fuzzy in the mirror, and that patch of steam still wafts over the same space as before. You feel too sleep deprived for someone who has technically been sleeping a lot, but you stare at that patch on the mirror, trying to tell yourself that it doesn’t look like breath across a cold glass surface… that you don’t feel eyes on you… that this corner of the bathroom doesn’t feel cooler than the rest…

Your hand reaches out, to touch, to test, to give into the insane hope-

The mirror cracks, and you rush out of the bathroom, your shriek echoing off the walls. The remaining steam wafts from the open door, and you continue to stare into that corner, heart in your throat, 

“Bucky?”

Your heartbeat is like a drum in your ear, one second, two, three…

You hear a small squeak, shivers race down your spine as you search for the source of the sound, and your attention is drawn back to that mirror, and the words slowly being formed on the glass;

Hi Doll

The dressing table shakes as you back up into it, and you hastily pull on any clothes you can find, and you run out of the door, locking it securely, and rushing out and down the street.

Bucky is haunting me, ohgodohgodohgodohgod

Friday

“Come home, doll.”

You roll onto your front in your sleep, the hotel mattress is uncomfortable, but you’re too tired to wake up, not even for Bucky’s deep voice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, doll, come on…”

It’s too warm in this hotel room, but you’d been scared and desperate, paying for the first hotel that you’d seen. You’d fallen asleep in the t-shirt and panties you’d been wearing, but even those clothes must be too warm, you can feel the t-shirt inching up your back, the air mercifully cool…

“Let me make it up to you, doll.”

This is the only way to safely miss and mourn Bucky. He was only in your head, he isn’t really haunting you, ghosts don’t follow to second locations…

His lips are cool as they trail down your spine, over the curve of one cheek, and then the other. You let Bucky raise your hips from the bed, making it easier for him to pull your panties down your legs. Your knees don’t hesitate to part, leaving yourself wide open and vulnerable to him, to his cool tongue against your warm pussy…

It’s a dream. It can only be a dream, so you stay asleep, your eyes closed, breath choppy, skin cold. It’s a dream. Bucky’s dead.

Bucky was always so good at eating you out, his tongue and fingers could do things that would have you screaming and writhing and sobbing with bliss. Tonight was no different, but it’s a softer and gentler loving against your touch starved flesh, french kissing like he’s missed the taste of you, long fingers probing gently and eagerly, stroking and caressing until you come on a ragged cry into the pillow. You barely feel Bucky behind you, but you feel the head of his cock stroke through your folds, and you have to bite down on the pillow when he pushes home inside you. It’s always a stretch to fit him inside, no matter how prepared you are. The cheap headboard bangs against the badly wallpapered wall as Bucky rides you, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to send pleasurable waves of hurt through you. This time you don’t hide it, you cry out your release loud enough for the people staying in the room next door to bang against the adjoining room-

You wake up. It’s now Saturday. 

You’re still wearing the t-shirt and panites, and a weird mix of relief and disappointment rush through you. It takes too long to get out of bed, and you’re in too much of a daze in the shower to notice the soreness in your body, or how sticky you are in between your legs. Bucky was dead. No amount of dreaming or hoping or wishes would bring him back to you.

Sam knocks at the door of your apartment, and you can only manage a wan smile as you let him in, 

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hey, yourself.” You watch as Sam attempts to be subtle in taking in your appearance, and the state of your apartment, smothering your smile as he does so. You’d called him here, after all. Finally he stops and gives you a look, before pulling you into a hug that you sink into, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“Don’t apologise, idiot. It’s not like you haven’t been saving the world or anything.”

“That’s not the point. I was your friend too, and I let myself-”

“It’s okay,” you pull away, smiling gently to let him know that you really weren’t mad or holding grudges, “I didn’t want anyone around. I let you go.”

“Are you okay? You sounded…” Sam trails off, his eyes on the open window by your bed, and the fire escapes there, “You’re keeping that thing closed, right? I know it’s warm right now, but y’can’t keep that thing open when you sleep, Y/N.”

“Thanks, genius.” You roll your eyes, but your gaze strays to the open window, “I could’ve sworn I closed it. I’m not sleeping so well right now, I’m probably just forgetting it.” You turn to Sam, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your t-shirt, “I feel like he’s haunting me. I don’t know why it’s happening now. After a year. He’s in my dreams so much right now, and the other day, I thought-” You cut yourself off from telling Sam about the mirror. Or, more importantly, how the mirror wasn’t broken anymore when you had returned from the hotel.

There had been flowers on your pillow though. You’d carefully put them in water and left the pretty blooms on the table. Sam was staring at them right now.

“Haunting you?”

“This last week…” Sam looks too concerned with what you’re saying, and you quickly force a smile on your face, “Wow, I’m really tired, Sam. I think I’m gonna order a pizza and go to bed, is that okay? I would ask you to stay, but-”

“Nah, it’s fine, Y/N, get resting, I’ll call you in the week, okay?” Sam squeezes your shoulder, and turns back to the fire escape, “You can always come and stay in the tower for a bit if you want? For a building that houses hundreds of people, it’s surprisingly quiet.”

You hear something fall in the bedroom, and then a thump and a clang, and Sam starts towards the fire escape. Someone must’ve moved in one of the other apartments because you can hear steps on the metal staircase but you can’t see anyone, even though Sam is glaring up through your open window. You pull him back in, and watch as he slams the window closed and locks it, 

“I’ll weld the thing shut, Y/N, okay? Keep it closed.”

“Fine, Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Just… stay safe, please? I’ll be back in a few days, I’ll bring some of that Thai food you like.”

Sam heads out through the front door, and you lock it after him. 

“Bucky?”

Nothing.

You eventually fall asleep, and wake up disappointed. Your ghost didn’t visit you.

Sam went to the top floor, found the apartment that was above yours, and without a care for common decency picked the lock and walked in. His gun was drawn, even though he didn’t really believe he would need it, and he stepped carefully around the corner to the living room-

The gun was knocked from Sam’s hands, he was pushed against the wall, a hand at his throat, but there was no one there, at least until Sam reached out and dragged the mask off his invisible assailant to reveal Bucky’s disembodied head, 

“You asshole!” Sam felt Bucky’s hold relax, so he took his moment and punched Bucky Barnes square in his selfish jaw. It was weird to see a head jerk back and ‘nothing’ fall against the furniture behind him and see it move on its own. Sam stayed where he was whilst Bucky glared at him, before slowly removing the rest of the tech prototype he’d clearly stolen from Stark’s tower, revealing Bucky’s bare chest - covered in bullet hole scars - and his legs encased in what looked like skin tight lycra pants. Sam couldn’t help the sneer, 

“Nice get up, pervert.”

“Don’t start. I had to see her, Sam.” Bucky’s voice was croaky, as it had been since the attack on him a year ago, “I’m healed now, I don’t see why I can’t-”

“We’ve been through this, you selfish sack of shit, Y/N is still in danger from Hydra! The only safety she has is that they think that she thinks you’re dead! How is she going to stay thinking that when you’re playing Casper the sexual deviant ghost?!” Sam’s blood is pounding in his head, rage boiling his blood like nothing else, “You have to stay away, Buck! You have to help us find the last of Hydra, and then you can come back. Y/N will hate you for doing this to her, but she’ll forgive you, so until then you have to wait!”

Bucky sighs, and pulls on a hoodie whilst Sam rants, then shamelessly takes off the ridiculous lycra pants and replaces them with some discarded jeans. Sam watches as Bucky runs his hands through his hair, a scowl on his face, 

“I love her. I’m not a… Y/N is my girl, you get that, right? But… fine. I’ll stay away.”

“Thank you.” Sam wasn’t sure if he believed Bucky. His friend had been missing from the safehouse for a month, and it hadn’t even occurred to Sam that Bucky would come back here until Hydra were well and truly gone. He knew how much Bucky loved you, and he assumed the thought of you being hurt by Hydra would always keep Bucky away until it was safe. He’d been wrong, and now he wasn’t sure if he could truly keep Bucky away again now he’d gotten a fresh taste of you.

You checked in on your son one last time before quietly exiting the bedroom. He was just starting to sleep through the night, resting peacefully in his crib, and so used to waking up with him in the early hours of the morning, you now found yourself evaded by sleep. You smiled at the thought of him, holding back a small laugh.

He was born healthy and hearty, and Enola’s prediction of a boy had turned out to be right. He was so lively and curious, and so wrapped up in all that came with motherhood, Mycroft’s prolonged absences bothered you none. The dark-haired man could have an entire second family, and you would care none. Although, you knew he was simply tied up with business and politics, but your marriage had never felt like such almost since the beginning.

There were times if you wondered if you would feel relieved at the knowledge that someone else occupied your husband’s attention, allowing more room for you to breathe and be with your son. You imagined that you would, and you could only imagine how Mycroft would feel, how odd he would find your reaction, but fearing the man for years almost had you wishing he would take on some mistress or two. God knows he had the free time…

His lack of interest in your son bothered you more than you thought it would. After all, it only confirmed your suspicions that Mycroft simply cared for appearance and status, and how a wife and child merely bolstered his image. There was never any genuine desire for a wife and family as people to love, and that fact both saddened and angered you.

…because it meant that you were living in torment all this time for nothing.

As much as you feared and despised your husband, you had hoped that something at the end of the tunnel would make this all worth it. The abuse, the abandonment…Sherlock, but your husband had about as much interest in your pregnancy as Enola did in rouge. It should not have come as a shock that his brother, the imposing detective, had stuck by your side more than your own husband.

After all…your son did belong to the youngest brother.

The timeline matched, and Mycroft—so neglectful—took no notice to the birth being off by a month. You noticed though…and so did Sherlock, the burly man holding your son with so much care the moment the midwife had invited everyone into the room. You had carefully avoided his gaze, heart racing because as much as you came to accept there was nothing you could do against Sherlock’s desire to have you any chance he saw fit, he still terrified you greatly.

More than Mycroft in some ways.

It was why you let out a small shriek at the sight of said man when you turned in the kitchen. He was as calm and collected as ever—an infuriating trait of his—while you had to press your hand to your chest just to calm your heart. He was dressed down, and as you stared at him, you did recall the housekeeper mentioning something about Sherlock arriving in town soon.

You liked to keep your tormentor out of your head as much as possible, so it was no wonder you had forgotten.

“Sherlock,” you finally breathed, swallowing and turning away. “I did not know you had arrived.”

You were busying yourself with fixing something to eat, debating on whether to put on some tea. The kitchen was silent for what felt like too long, and you felt…hot under the scrutiny of his observant gaze. You always felt this way when he was around, and you knocked a few things over here and there as you fought to remain steady.

“Only some hours ago,” he finally replied, his soft baritone filling the room. “You were asleep then when I checked in on you.”

You froze at that, uncomfortable with the thought of Sherlock hovering over you and staring down at you as you slept…none the wiser. You struggled to swallow, nodding to yourself as you continued to move about the kitchen. Your brother-in-law said nothing, but you knew that he had not left. His presence was enough to fill up a whole house, let alone one small room.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you put the kettle on…watching it with pursed lips…

…and that was when you felt it.

For someone of his size, Sherlocked moved so silently—stealthily, and you flinched when you felt his chest graze your back. His body heat seemed to have surrounded you, enveloping you like a warm and suffocating blanket, and you swiped your tongue between your lips. Neither of you said a word, but you did both feel and hear him let out a soft chuckle, and you knew why. The sight of you trying to ignore this imposing and obvious man must have been a comical one.

“He is getting so big,” he hummed, and you shrank in on yourself when you felt his hand find a home on your waist. “…and so handsome.”

You didn’t respond.

“He will be very pretty to look at, I am sure,” you felt him lean in, soft lips grazing your ear. “Just like his mother.”

“Sherlock,” you murmured in warning, attempting to step away.

The other man tightened his hold on your waist, keeping you in place, and you sharply inhaled at the sudden display of strength.

“I have missed you,” he whispered.

“The housekeeper-.”

“Is fast asleep,” he cut you off. “…and your husband is cities away…leaving you all alone and neglected yet again.”

You felt your stomach tighten for so many reasons, and the main one forced a tear to escape your eye, Sherlock slithering his other hand up your body and snaking it around your neck. He forced you to lean back some, completely resting against him, and your lashes fluttered at the soft graze of his teeth against your cheek.

Let them think he had found a pretty pair of thighs to settle between for the night and leave him be. Whores and drink… the same boy from Eastcheap with a crown on. They weren’t drinking for the same reasons and he couldn’t bear another congratulations.

Congratulations on what exactly? On losing the closest person he had to a brother in unnecessary warfare? Losing his actual brother before that to the same foolish cause? Ordered executions of cousins he put to death based on lies? For breaking his promise to himself and betraying his own declaration that he was an altogether different man than his father? 

Hal’s sinuses burned and he squeezed closed his lids, his lips twisting as frustration ran hot through his veins, right behind his eyes. How could a king feel so helpless? So defeated in the wake of victory?

Wooden heels scraping the ground reached his ears and Hal swallowed, quickly leashing his emotions again. But then you came into view and he released the tension in his shoulders. 

Unfortunately for him, you knew Hal well. All of him really; the bad and the worst. In Eastcheap, you’re a brewer and always kept Hal well-stocked in his days of hedonism. He had made sure to keep connections with you to supply the castle upon his coronation. 

Now here was one skirt he had never sought under, but God knows he had entertained the thought on several occasions. But thinking with his more acceptable head with you always prevailed. Bad blood with the best brewer in town when he admittedly avoided sobriety on a regular basis wasn’t a good idea. He wondered if you’d have even said yes if he had asked. If you would if he ever worked up the gall to ask. 

“Are you wasting my fine product, my liege?”

Hal snorted at the unimpressed rise of your eyebrow, your fists meeting cocked hips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m savoring every sip, even, as the horses are unwilling to see to my refill out here and you neglected to bring one with you.”

You sniffed disdainfully in the direction of the horses soundly ignoring you both in their stalls. “We must get them better trained.”

You huffed as you sat next to him in the hay and idly, Hal mused about that. How long had it been since someone approached him so casually? Sat close enough for him to feel the warmth of their body? Treated him like another human and not like the man God Himself hand-selected to rule England? He’ll blame the novelty, mixed with his inebriation and sentimentality, for the way he leaned in towards you just a smidge. 

“What burdens you?” You asked, brooking no deflection from him. He didn’t see a point anyway. The words were bursting at the confines of his lungs. If he didn’t get them out, didn’t say them to someone, he’d surely asphyxiate. 

“I have no one, there’s no one left. No one in these walls I can trust, no one that can help. I can only be like this in front of you because you’ve seen me lower; in Eastcheap drinking and fucking my life away.”

“Hal, I’ve never seen you lower than when you let the greediness of these men move your hand. When you called a war with no clear reason why. You need to mourn. Feel the ache. Wallow in the sorrow. But then you need to stand up. And you need to move forward. Learn from the mistakes you made. Remember your past, but don’t stay there.”

Hal closed his eyes, absorbing your words. The pain was still there, hadn’t lessened a bit, but what you said made the ache more productive. He was no longer hurting with no end in sight. Catharsis seeped in and he was relieved to know the grief that he was feeling would one day have a place to go. It’d turn into fuel, into a lesson, into inspiration. But for now, it still felt like his heart had been stabbed and lit on fire with the blade cutting deeper with each beat. That was okay. He knew how to start the healing.

He let his body tip until his shoulder met yours, sank further until his head rested there instead. 

And then Hal wept.

He lets up for just a moment, pressing a much softer kiss to your lips as he composes himself the best he can. 

“I can’t stop watching you out there with those kids. I don’t want to wait any longer…”

You narrow your eyes on his, pretty sure you know what he’s getting at. “You mean…”

“I wanna have a baby with you,” he blurts out. “I know we discussed waiting until the election is over in the fall, but I can’t– I can’t wait that long.”

He waits until he sees your smile to let himself break into one. You hold his face in your hands, pulling him back in for a kiss. Your quiet moan into his mouth as it becomes more heated has him snapping back into control. 

“Turn around,” he instructs, stern voice sending a shiver down your back. 

His hold on your waist loosens so you can obey, turning to face the wall, placing your hands in front of you as you arch your back. You know the drill. 

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning closer again to kiss your neck. “Can you be quiet for me?”

“Yes,” you nod, gasping softly, feeling his hard cock against your ass. 

His hands are on your hips keeping you in place, but he slips one around to your stomach. “You’re gonna look so pretty pregnant.”

You moan as his hand drops lower, pulling your skirt up around your waist so his fingers can slip under the waistband of your panties. 

“Steve,” you whimper. He brushes a finger along your slit, applying pressure to your clit. “Stevie–”

“You told me you could be quiet,” he chides teasingly. 

“Sorry.” Your quiet laugh turns into biting your lip to keep your moan silent as he moves his hand to pull your panties aside and you hear him unzip his pants. 

He’s become an expert at quickies, thrusting his cock into you before you have a chance to become a desperate, begging mess, knowing that would risk you getting caught for sure. He saves the teasing for when you’re at home.

“Fuck,” you curse, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Feels so good.” 

“I know, baby.” His steady pace becomes quicker, knowing the whines you’re letting out mean you want more. 

You drop a hand from the wall to hold onto his on your waist, linking your fingers together. 

“Wanna make you a daddy, Stevie,” you whisper.

He can barely hold himself back, letting out a groan as he leans into you, fucking you deeper and whispering against your neck. 

“Need you to cum for me, sweetheart.” He has you right on the edge. “Come on.” 

He knows you well enough to know he has to bring a hand up to cover your mouth, just in time to stifle your moan as you cum. Your knees go weak and you’re thankful for his hands on you keeping you up. 

“That’s my girl,” he grunts. He’s no better than you, having to hide his face against your neck to muffle his own moans as he works you through your high, coming undone at the same time. 

His hold on you becomes softer as you both work to catch your breath. You instantly miss him when he carefully pulls out and steps away to grab a box of tissues for you.

You’d make fun of him for how unromantic the gesture is if you weren’t still numb with pleasure. 

Once you’re both cleaned up, he pulls you back into his arms and you happily rest against him, head on his chest. 

“I was serious,” he says quietly, rubbing your back. “That wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing. I don’t wanna wait if you don’t.”

“I don’t either.” A sense of relief washes over him hearing you say it. “But I do kinda want to wait at least until we’re home next time,” you chuckle, lifting your head to wink at him. “This isn’t at the top of my list of places I want to conceive our child at.” 

He laughs, looking around at the dark, cold office he drew you into. “Agreed.”

══☆══

He knew you didn't mean it. Life in general often brought you a little down, but now the current state of things, coupled with your present inebriated condition and this was bound to happen. But you both knew it couldn't go unchecked. Meeting Andy at a mixer when his firm was hired to do some work with your legal department, you immediately hit it off over your shared love of football. Having finally left his painful past behind him, Andy hadn't really been looking for anything new, but something about you drew him in.

Almost six months constantly bumping into each other around the office and sparks were definitely starting to fly. Andy loved how forceful and bossy you could be when working, how focused during the few presentations he had witnessed, mirrored with how free and animated you got when the two of you would frequent the canteen to discuss whatever football match you both had last seen and it quickly dawned on him that you were something special.

Realizing that his world seemed a whole lot brighter with you in it, he didn't waste much time when the contract between your two firms neared completion. Three days before it ended, he cornered you in one of the many conference rooms and asked if you would be interested in joining him for dinner. Informing him that his offer might be considered if he knew any place that served both good wine and pasta, he smirked knowingly before walking away leaving you to wonder if you had seen the last of him.

Twenty-four hours later and there you were, sitting in Andy's car on your way to who knows where. Eventually pulling up to what looked like an old run down warehouse, Andy gracefully led you inside where a beautiful miniature park, complete with skylight, water feature and seating area took your breath away. "Impressed?" he questioned, and looking around all you thought was there was no way pasta was on the menu. Still, ever the polite young person you were raised to be, you looked around a few minutes before speaking.

"Yeah, it's definitely beautiful here. How did you find it?"

"Came across this place a little over a year and a half ago. Been working on it here and there ever since." he said, walking you towards the seating area. Sitting you down with a wide grin on his handsome face, he then reached behind the bench wall and pulled forth two specially insulated bags. "It even comes complete with dining services." he added as he opened up the bigger bag and produced two gloriously hot pasta dishes. Taking in the wonderful smell, he then brought out the wine and two glasses from the smaller bag and you had to admit, he may actually have brought you to heaven.

Eating the delicious meal, amid the beautiful surroundings and wonderful company, you thought your night couldn't possibly get any better until Andy suggested taking you on a night time drive through the city before dropping you home. Doing all you could not to jump his bones right there, you held your composure and smiled gratefully at him before accepting.

Now here you were, three months after that glorious night and countless dates in between, firmly back in the present with an irate boyfriend, a belly full of wine and a mouth determined to do nothing but dig you a deeper hole. " 'm not sryy." you slurred out as Andy rolled up his sleeves and shoved you face first into the couch before placing your body securely across his thick thighs.

"No honey?" he questioned, running his hands along your ass and thighs while squeezing hard every so often, "well let me see what I can do about that," and with that the sound of fabric tearing reached your ears as your panties were ripped from you. Knowing now that you were in trouble by the use of 'honey' and the discarded panties, a shiver worked its way up your spine as Andy lowered his upper body along your back to rest his lips against your ear. "Care to tell me what got us here, huh?" and no response from you was rewarded with a loud slap against your now exposed ass.

Crying out, his hand then massaged the soft flesh as he waited for you to finally answer. "Screamed at you for not being here when I got home."

"Right, but my meeting was on the calendar for a month. Could it be something else is going on?" and when you just flipped him the finger, he swiftly brought your hands behind your back and rained down four blows on each cheek and both your thighs. Trying to stifle the sounds that were a mix between a shriek and a moan, he wormed his fingers between your folds and tutted loudly when his fingers came away wet.

"Look at this honey," he mocked, moving his fingers in front of your face before stuffing them into your mouth. Leaving them there until you got the message, he bent forward once more as you licked the moisture from them. "That's it honey, clean them good. Oh my word, look at you, filthy little thing trying to get herself off while I'm here teaching you some manners." he sneered as he stilled your movements with a bit more pressure on your lower back.

"Andy baby, please?" you begged, removing your mouth from his fingers and turning your head to face him. Looking at your tear streaked face he might have taken pity on you, but something told him in this moment, this was what you needed.

"Don't 'Andy baby' me, honey, you brought this on yourself. Tell me what's really going on. Now." he demanded, and you knew from his tone not answering would have you sore for a week.

"Work was bad." you finally admitted, feeling a bit of relief just saying those three little words. "Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong and I guess I just lost it."

"Yeah, and the wine didn't help either. How many times have I told you drinking is not the answer?" he asked and once more your answer was cut off as his hand made contact with your ass. "You're going to count for me honey and maybe, just maybe, I might go easy on you," and with that you moaned out the numbers one to ten as Andy's hand made contact with your nether regions over and over again.

Finally satisfied, Andy released you and sitting you on his lap, wiped your tears as a pout formed on your lips. "Aw what's the matter now honey? Did I stop before my girl got to come? Here let me help you out." he smirked as he moved his hand down to your now swollen and sensitive folds. Moving his fingers up and down along your slit, he alternated between delving into your warm heat and circling your throbbing clit. Keeping your tender ass firmly nestled against his growing erection so you couldn't move, he worked you up so good that just when your body finally began to sing . . . the music stopped.

Turning your head once more to look at him, he simply winked at you and licked his fingers clean as your brain realized what he had in store. Kissing you fiercely to stifle your protests, he allowed your body to cool off before starting his ministrations all over again. Five more times of this treatment, and you actually apologized for your behavior as your legs kicked out at nothing in a desperate attempt just to do something.

At last taking pity on you, or perhaps himself, he got up, tossed you on the couch and ripped your top clean down the middle. Ignoring your complaints, he then added to the humiliation by forcing your tits out of your bra and slapping each one repeatedly as his other hand began freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. Gazing down on his hard and impressive length, he gave you a moment to enjoy the view, before taking his shaft and slotting it into your waiting pussy in one powerful thrust.

Moaning out at the warm, grasping feeling of your tight, wet walls, he set up a punishing rhythm as his powerful hips pounded into your sore ass. Telling you over and over again how wet and welcoming your pussy was, it didn't long for the tension he had built up in your body to finally snap and you came with a shriek as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Slapping your tits once again as his cock and hips continued to guide you through your high, you knew he had no intention of letting you down as the pressure started building once again.

Pleading with him to slow down, he took your words as a challenge and sucking hard enough on both breasts that you knew you would still feel it tomorrow, he thrust a few more times before bringing his fingers to your clit and squeezing hard. Screaming loudly and arching your back as you came hard around him for the second time, he pulled out just in time and sprayed his seed all over your exposed chest.

Laying his forehead against yours while kissing you tenderly and rubbing his cum into your skin, he waited patiently until your breathing returned to normal before speaking. "Feeling better sweetheart?" and the change of pet name told you that all was as it should be and your punishment was over.

"Yeah." you answered slowly, finally sounding like yourself again. "Thank you. Sometimes I just ne . . ."

"Need to not be in charge all the time." he finished for you, before continuing. "I know sweetheart and you know I'm always here for you, no questions, no judgements. But maybe next time lower the volume a bit, my ears are still ringing." he laughed and you couldn't help but break into laughter along with him.

Then picking you up and carrying you upstairs before placing you on the seat at the end of the bed, he headed off into the bathroom where the sound of running water told you a bath was now in the offering. Returning swiftly, he helped both of you out of your clothes, though his were still intact, and then ducking back into the bathroom, turned off the taps before coming back, scooping you up and lowering both of you into the warm, refreshing bubble bath.

While the water stung a little at first as it kissed your tender flesh, bringing his massive legs together provided the perfect cushion for you to rest on. Sinking back against his powerful chest, you slowly felt all the remaining stresses and cares of the day slip further away as Andy's talented fingers and the warm water worked together to ease every knot he could find.

Having worked you over so good that you felt like putty, Andy then washed you lovingly before removing both of you from the bath and wrapping you in one of the fluffiest towels you swore had ever touched your delicate skin. Drying you gently but thoroughly, Andy then disappeared momentarily only to return a few minutes later to lift you up, carry you back to the bedroom and dump you face first onto another towel stretched across the bed. Telling you not to move, you rested your head on your hands but turned back towards him slightly when you heard the pop of a bottle.

Kneeling on the bed beside you, the contents hitting you directly on your lower back told you that Andy was about to give you one of his glorious full body massages. Though the only one you had so far received was on your birthday, two months ago, the memory still lingered in your muscles and soon he had you purring like a pussy as his lotion covered hands kneaded every inch of skin they could find. Drifting off slowly towards paradise, the next time you opened your eyes found you clothed and wrapped in Andy's arms in the middle of your bed in time to watch the night's football match.

Glancing lovingly at the one man who not only knew what you needed but how and when you needed it, you were about to ask him where your match-time snack was when he reached towards the bedside table and produced your favorite grapes. "Come on now sweetheart, you didn't think I'd forget these?" he asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Grabbing the grapes from him while placing a tender kiss against his lips, you popped one in your mouth and smiled at him cheekily before snuggling into his warm embrace just in time for the start of the game.