#mcfreakin-bxtch

You groan and blindly stretch your arm behind you, finding the spot just as cold and empty as it has been for nearly three weeks now. It makes you shiver, though not from being cold.

Your eyes close on their own accord despite the nagging churn in your gut makes them open again. Now you’re alert enough to finally get the sense that someone is watching you; your body freezes automatically and your heart thuds slowly but harshly against your chest.

“It’s me.”

Oh, that delectable voice. You know it, you recognize it, you missed it.

You whip around, tangled in the bed sheets so much that you nearly topple over, but you don’t care how ridiculous you look. Bucky’s home.

Naked.

Light from the city peers through your curtains, illuminating some of his features; it doesn’t do him any justice, but you can still make out the bare figure standing next to his side of his bed, unmoving and unwavering except for the heavy rise and fall of his chest. You check him over the best you can, looking for any signs of injury or discomfort.

“Just a few bumps and scrapes,” Bucky mumbles gravely.

Something’s really wrong. He doesn’t sound completely like himself. No, he sounds like he’s... trapped. Lifeless. Quiet.

You open your mouth but you’re mute. You rack your brain to find something comforting to say to him, anything to get rid of the dark look on his face. Though through the sleepy haze and panic slightly rising in your chest, it’s hard not to let it show that this has slightly caught you off guard.

Bucky watches you patiently. Like he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. Waiting for permission and that scares you more than anything else.

This isn’t the first time Bucky’s come back from a mission shaken up like this. Through years of experience, you learned that sometimes he needs action, something solid and concrete that can ground him to reality, to you. It took you a little while to catch the signs and clues to better help him when he pushes himself back into a part of his mind that’s still dark and reeling from his past. 

So instead of words, you choose to lift up your sleep shirt, tossing it next to your side of the bed. Your shorts and panties follow quickly after and then you lift the duvet.

He settles down next to you, pulling the cover over your heads. Now that you can see him a little more clearly, the dark clouds swirling in his eyes are prominent and loud.

You hesitate to touch him. You don’t mean to, and you hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. Bucky notices and reaches for your hand and places it in his short, cropped hair. Immediately your fingers flex and scratch lightly, earning you a small sigh of relief; his breath hits your lips and you suck it in like it’s the first breath of fresh air—hell, to you it is.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now,” he rasps.

“Okay.” You nod, playing with the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

“I just want to hold you and feel you and—fuck.”

The curse comes out in a quiver of the lips, a desperate plea that begs for any type of release.

Before you tell him that he’s home, you’re here with him and you’re never going anywhere unless he says so and that he’s so fucking loved, he’s on you. Chapped but luscious lips crashing down on yours, teeth clashing together painfully, your squeal muffled by the urgency of his tongue breaking through; blunt nails digging in your flesh, hard, muscled planes of his body molding awkwardly in his hurried attack as he climbs on top of you, then perfectly molds his weight to yours until you’re literally close to suffocating under his heavyweight.

It’s like he’s trying to bury himself inside you in more ways than one.

Flesh and metal paw at every inch of you, trying to familiarize himself with you again. He gropes your breasts roughly, squeezing until you grunt in discomfort; Bucky barely registers it. He barely even gives you a chance to breathe and only grumbles when you have to break the kiss. His lips never leave your body, trailing down your jaw and to your neck, urgently biting the exposed skin. You hiss lightly and buckle your hips against his, holding his head to your neck as he barely soothes the sting and moves to another spot to mark.

But that’s not enough for him. He’s moving so quickly that it’s hard to tell what he’s trying to do. Slithering and squirming against you as he paws at your nipples, tweaking them between his thumb and forefinger until you’re damn near close to tears. Bucky is desperate and unforgiving as he hitches your leg over his hip to let him feel the soft, wet lips of your pussy against the red hot, angry tip of his cock and, without warning, lets a line of spit drop where you’re nearly connected.

It sends a shock through you and he can see it by the way your stomach shakes and caves. With one last swipe of his girth through your folds his fingers are there to replace it, probing at your folds until a thick, middle finger enters you.

“James,” you gasp at the intrusion.

He plays with you for a moment, sliding his finger in and out carelessly a few times before another is added to the mix, scissoring and stretching your gummy walls. Your hips move on their own accord, helping him find your sweet spot and boy it doesn’t take long.

“Yeah?” Bucky questions the scrunch of your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” You tell him.

He pumps his fingers faster as he kisses your chest, enveloping your nipple between his teeth and swirling his tongue. You hiss and throw your head back. Then oh shit he flicks your clit with his thumb—

Bucky silences your whine with a subtle twist of his wrist. An electric shock runs through your core, from head to toes that leads back to the source.

“Already squeezing the hell outta me,” he chuckles humorlessly.

“Hmhmm.”

He keeps your legs open as they struggle to close, pumping his fingers so hard that your lower half shakes from the strength—your clit pulses for more attention and your pussy becomes slicker for something much, much longer and thicker.

Then just as quickly as he started he removes his fingers from your heat. You’re about to protest when he kisses your complaint away, all but shoving his knees into your flesh to get your legs to move to his liking. Normally you wouldn’t mind some roughhousing, yet the way he’s shoving your legs and arms out of the way for your cunt feels too hurried and unlike him—you’ve been down this road before.

“Hmphm Buck,” you say against his moving lips. You slide your hands from his hair to his chest and softly push back.

Bucky stops and looks down at you, panting softly as you are. His face is only a few inches away from yours, still sharing the same air. His eyes look a bit calmer, light starting to shine through the clouds; a blue, hazel light to be exact, his color coming back.

“Slow,” you breathe, rubbing the tense muscles of his back.

“Slow,” you remind him gently as you grind your hips against his, feeling his cockhead nudge against your clit. It invites a low moan from your chest, your eyes closing automatically.

Bucky gasps and nods, the top curls of his hair tickling your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says and rests his forehead completely against yours, closing his eyes.

“You don’t have to be,” you tell him, holding him tightly to you. “I missed you.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “I missed your face.” His cheekbones, his eyes, his chin without a care that his stubble scratches your skin, any part of him that you can reach without moving you kiss with affirmation. “Your body, your voice, your amazing cooking, even your god-awful snoring. I missed your everything, baby.”

His eyes are still closed and his bottom lip trembles. “I missed you too, sweetheart.“

He gulps and opens his eyes.

How many times have you stared into those eyes? Lost yourself in the ocean of them that screams home to you? It never gets old. It never gets tiring. You can stare at him for hours, just like this. 

What’s also magical about it? He can, too.

So honestly fuck these last three weeks. Fuck whom or whatever brought him to this state and fuck any millisecond without this man. 

His cock nudges against your cunt again, a subconscious effort of his desperate need. You reach down in between the little to no space between the two of you and grab him.

“Yes,” he moans almost as if he’s in pain, and thrusts into your hand.

“I love you,” you tell him.

You line him up at your entrance. You’re wet enough that he can easily slide the tip in. Still, you’re forced to slowly inhale and exhale to relax your muscles. You’re gonna feel him for the rest of this week, for months it feels as he pushes and pushes into your tight heat until his pelvis rests completely against yours. 

Bucky stills for your benefit, ignoring the primal urge to pound into you until he can’t remember anything. You appreciate the restraint and give a chaste kiss to his Adam’s Apple, wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders; it’s impossible to pull him any closer to you, but you try and he doesn’t object—rather, he tries to help by doing a ridiculous wiggle against you.

You feel his calves flex from where your feet rest, legs wrapped around his waist and wide enough so that he can move as freely as possible. Then he’s grinding slowly into you, mixing his groan with your whine and a dirty dance of his tongue. The soft curls that trail down his pelvis tickles your neglected clit, giving you just a little bit of friction that has you buzzing. You arch your back off the mattress, feeling every vein pulse against the velvet flesh of your inner walls, every harsh bum bum bum bum bum bum beating to your heart’s rhythm.

Bucky breaks the kiss this time, moving his forearms up on either side of your head. His face doesn’t move an inch away from yours still, so it doesn’t take much to whisper hotly against his ear, “Move.”

He practically sobs and before you can do anything about it he’s pulling himself out, leaving only the bulbous tip of him in ‘till he hammers back into you; the harsh pace he’s set nearly knocks the wind out of you. 

“Jesus f—” Your throat closes.

Bucky knows what he’s doing. He’s not wasting any time, it’s been just as hellish for him as it was for you, being gone. Swiveling his hips into another dirty grind that not only hits a spot so deep inside you that you can practically feel him in your stomach, but that there’s more savoring pressure on your clit. Your legs are already trembling, and you really want him to do that again and he is. 

Your moan is too loud and pornographic for the silence that once was, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind judging by the low grow that vibrates from his chest to yours. 

“Good?” He whispers huskily and genuinely. 

How the hell is he speaking coherently while he’s fucking you like this? You can’t even form the confirmation through your slack lips, barely able to nod instead as you hike your legs further up his hips. He uses very little strength to lean over you and slam his hips down into yours like it’s the last time he ever will. 

You encourage his pleasure by winding your fingers through his hair and tugging. He growls your name and attacks your lips, wrapping his fingers in the pillow you’re lying on.

“Again,” he demands softly.

You listen and tug again, this time pulling his head far enough back so you can place the tip of your tongue on his collarbone and lick all the way up to his plump lips. Instead of a kiss, you trace the outline of his lips and stop at the bottom to bite.

Bucky arches in your arms and stops deep inside you. You whine out of instinct but it seems to fall on deaf ears because he doesn’t flinch or open his eyes. He presses his forehead against yours and that’s when you realize that you still have his lip between your teeth.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask breathlessly.

He finally opens his eyes. “Because you’re insatiable.”

His cock pierces the words right out of your brain. This time he’s unforgiving, giving you everything he has to offer with a promise of more. Your pussy sucks him in, your juices starting to coat his thighs and Bucky looks down when he notices your stare and curses under his breath.

“That’s what you always do to me,” he groans. He leans back down to bury his head in your neck. “A-always caring, your pussy s’mine all mine.”

The slaps of his hips hitting yours is starting to get louder and louder with your moans and cries and his grunts that just makes you go feral. The vulgar squelch of your pussy taking his brutal thrusts, the tap of your headboard hitting the wall, the moans that freely leave his lips as he continues to lose control to your body. 

“Oh fuck Bucky,” you angle your hips towards his thrust, hoping to have him impossibly deeper. “S’good.” His hips jostle your body upwards, your breasts jiggling against his chest and the breath knocked out of you mid-sentence. “Fuck me so good, no one could ever.”

Bucky preens at the sweet, whispered praises in his ear. His hot breath feels like molten lava against your neck and the only answer he can give you are broken gasps and shutters. The muscles in his back heave and clench under his ministrations along with the globe of his perfect ass flexing under your palm. With every clench of your cunt, he gasps and tenses.

“Keep going baby.” You’re saying anything at this point, so cockdrunk and in love, keeping your arms wrapped around him so he doesn’t go far. “Oh fuck yeah just like that, Buck. You know how to fuck me so good. I missed you, missed fucking—”

Bucky slams his lips on yours for what already feels like the hundredth time tonight. It’s an angry clash of teeth and saliva that Bucky licks through. You feel more of himself reaching to the surface with the languid but hurried twirl of his tongue exploring your mouth, the way he’s now more precise with his thrusts.

His cock twitches inside you the more your sopping pussy tightens around him. You know he’s not going to last much longer and so does he. 

“C’mon honey.” You kiss his temple. “Come in me, let me feel you.”

But James Buchanan Barnes absolutely refuses to come before you do... if he can help it. Without breaking his pace he reaches down to flick your clit with quick, thick fingers.

“More,” he rasps as he stares down at your flushed form. “Say more, I need you to cum.”  

The way he says your name, authoritative and deep, is enough to make your eyes roll in the back of your head. Your lungs feel like they don’t work anymore, unable to produce a single breath or scream that he’s fucking out of you, your legs are for sure jello at this point and your pussy cannot stop squeezing him—it’s actually getting harder for Bucky to keep up with his thrusts without busting in you right then and there with how snug you are around him.  

He repeats your name. The coil in your stomach is about to snap. Curdling and molding into a ball of “BuckyBuckyBuckyBucky, oh fuck your cock is so big, I’m gonna cum oh shit there it is, right there—“

Your cunt constricts as the ball finally snaps, sending you in a spiral. You keep your legs wrapped around his waist so that he can barely move but continues to push through your orgasm to pursue his. His moans are getting louder, almost louder than your cries.

It feels never ending, like you rightfully belong in this state of pure euphoria only Bucky can give you.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg. 

“I’m cumming, I fucking love you, God.”

Bucky completely shivers against you as he fills your pussy with thick ropes of cum, so much so that you can already feel it leaking from you. He keeps his hips locked to yours as he catches his breath. He’s heavier than what he felt like before and as much as you don’t want his warmth to leave you, you give him a small push. 

“Too heavy,” you mumble weakly. “Here.”

It takes great strength to pull himself away from you. His cock jumps slightly with your combined fluids covering him, all white and glistening. 

Fuck he’s so beautiful. A whole ass galaxy in your eyes. His chiseled face red and sweaty, chest heaving with heavy breaths, his gorgeous eyes trained onto the mess between your thighs.

You love him so much it actually hurts. 

“C’mere,” you hold your arms out weakly for him. 

“Hang on,” his voice is thick and gruff. It makes your sensitive pussy clench and Bucky smiles softly at the sight. 

He gets up and walks to the bathroom. He cleans the both of you up before crawling back into your open arms, lying his head on your chest and listening to the steady beat of your heart. 

“We’re not going anywhere.” You remind him gently, scratching his scalp as you hold him. “You’re home now.”

“Mmm,” Bucky agrees. 

The way Bucky rolls his hips into yours is nothing short of a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure.

He’s being meticulous about not seriously hurting you, keeping most of his weight off yours, pumping his hips leisurely as your body reacts so strongly to him.

“Buck” you whine. “Please.”

You wrap you arms around his neck and bring him down for a kiss. He moans, filthy and low in his throat, your tongues twirling for a taste. He pulls away too quickly for your liking.

“I know baby,” he rasps, keeping the same rhythm into your cunt. “J’st wanna see you.”

You want to argue; want to feel all of him until there’s no telling who is who. The agonizing slow fucking brings you closer and closer to the brink of your orgasm, and yet Bucky knows exactly when to hold off before your pussy clenches him tightly. You need something to ground yourself to, a comfort to the tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes and he’s refusing you. 

But the words die on your tongue when he shifts his hips again and his cock hits that spot so deep inside you that it makes your whole body tremor like a shock, ocean gray stars staring into your eyes and watching every pinch of your face and it just makes your heart hammer away in your chest—engulfed with your shared love. 

“Jesus, honey. Just look.”

He sounds so breathless and amazed. You open your eyes at his plea and look to where he’s fixated... oh fuck. 

Okay. Now you see what he’s talking about. 

Bucky had grown a little soft in the middle over the last few years despite the work he continues to do. His abs are still prominent and glistening with sweat as he works above you, tightening when he dives back into you. You curl your nails gently down his chest and stomach until you reach between you. 

“See that?” He asks. 

He makes a show of dragging every inch of his thickness back so that you can not only feel every ridge of him soothing your hungry walls but see his twitching cock shining with your arousal, letting his bulbous tip rest in between your quivering pussy lips.

Your legs shake with anticipation. He takes this moment to look up at you with a toothy grin. 

“I love you.”

He says it with so much declaration, one that you easily reciprocate. 

“But if you don’t move so help me Barnes.”

Bucky laughs but his eyes darken, accepting the challenge with glee. He takes the hand still resting on his pelvis and places two of your fingers on your clit with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. 

You groan as he finally moves, your pussy sucking every inch of him home. 

He silently walks towards you. You hear him but make no attempts to move. 

“What’re looking for, baby,” Bucky asks you softly. A hint of his old, Brooklyn accent seeps through, and even in your overworked state it brings a curl to your lips. 

You contemplate saying nothing and shrugging it off. It’s stupid, really stupid and nothing to raise a fuss over. But after the week you’ve had, this was one of the things you were really looking forward to when coming home and now it’s not here—

Bucky says your name and gently places his hand on your lower back, reaching to close the door with the other. You stand straight with a long, deep sigh. 

“My snack isn’t where I left it,” you mumble with your eyes closed. 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. “You mean the snack that you finished off last night before bed?”

Your eyes narrow as you try to recollect the short time you were actually home and despite the fact that Bucky wants to help you, he can’t help but hide the cheeky smirk when he watches your eyes widen. 

“What the fuuuck,” you whine, throwing your head back. 

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to pull you into him arms. He smiles softly when you instinctively relax in his embrace. 

“C’mon, precious.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you to the bedroom.

“Buck,” you sigh gently. “I’m not in the mood for sex right now.”

“Who said we were having sex?” He fires back gently.

You watch curiously as he strips, leaving himself only in a pair of boxers that leave nothing to the imagination… maybe you can still—

“Right now we’re gonna cuddle,” his voice breaks you out of your trance. “And when you wake up I’ll draw you a bath and order food from that restaurant you love soooo much—“ He stops with a wide grin when he sees you bite your lip to hold back your own smile. “—and then cuddle you to death for the rest of the night. You can call off tomorrow so I can pamp—“

“Say no more!” You squeal and jump on the bed.

The other is that you’re half-naked—your shirt is down but your lower half remains unclothed. A thin and scratchy fabric covers you, and it takes you a solid second between the fluttering of your eyes as they adjust and the clicks sounding faintly in front of you to remember where you’re at and how you got in this position in the first place.

You groan softly as you lean up on your elbows, your face scrunching as soon as the dull light of the sun's rays reflect on your eyes. “Where are we?” You groggily ask, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand.

“Getting ready to land.”

“Kriff you should’ve woken me up earlier,” you groan under your breath.

Getting up is a little harder than it should be—your legs wobble and the muscles between your legs are burdened with an extra soreness that aches deeply, and you have to grab the closest thing to you to stabilize your balance.

It’s even more difficult searching for your clothes. With eyes that still haven’t fully adjusted, and that alone just makes you wonder just how long you were asleep for, everything flashes of black and white until you tightly squeeze your eyes shut; you open them slowly after a few seconds, cautiously as your eyes start to slowly battle the stinging.

“Here,” something taps against your hip.

You look down and grab your pants from his hand, slipping your legs through them with a simple ‘thanks’ thrown at him.

“Where’s the kid?” You take a quick look around.

“Down.”

You wait for more, but when he remains silent you push. “Awake?”

“Yes,” he answers.

You nod and look back down for your shoes. “Mando where are my shoes?”

You stop. The nickname is a reminder that you actually know his real name now. A huge, even monumental step through the thick barrier between the two of you. But it’s the confusion of the suddenness of the events leading up to such a small moment that stops you from opening your mouth to correct yourself.

“Your shoes are over there,” the silver tilts to his right, where you follow and find them neatly placed by the seat. “Now I need you to listen to this.”

He turns to the side and you nod to let him know you’re listening. You can only hope that your expression is as mutual as you can muster through the hard pounding of your heart.

“My name—” He hesitates, but you don’t open your mouth to the racing thoughts parading in your brain. “Look you know that… just when we’re not on the ship, use the nickname, okay?”

You patiently wait for more, but when you realize that’s all he has to say you slap your hand on your chest with a loud sigh, smiling through your breathless spouts of giggles.

“That’s all? Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry about that, I guess.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you wave off. “I know the rules.”

“You don’t always act like you do,” He retorts quickly.

You raise an eyebrow. “But don’t you like it when I don’t listen?”

Even when he’s nearly destroyed your pussy in every way he can, your body is still so responsive to him on a rather ridiculous level.

The chair squeaks under his weight. “Yeah,” he chokes on a scoff. “Not gonna work on me.”

“Not right now,” you say and start to make your way to the ladder. “But maybe later on…”

“You sure your pussy can handle it?”

You suck in a breath and heat builds in the pit of your stomach. Damn him. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

“Mhmm.”

You huff and slide down, your brain too mushy to come up with a good enough comeback, as per usual.

***

He’s not supposed to be gone for this long.

Mando was just dropping the quarry off to collect the credits, nothing more. It’s been a day.

You’ve contemplated looking for him yourself, but you can’t leave the Child alone, especially when practically everything is a threat to him. So sitting here, trying your best to distract the kid and yourself, while Mando is out there doing Kriff knows what, is the last fucking thing you want to be dealing with.

Then again… that’s essentially your job at this point.

You stare intensely at the Child now, currently staring right back at you in the little stare contest. You wonder, only for the millionth time, if he can read your mind—if so, you feel sorry for the kid.

“D’you know where he’s at?” You throw sanity to the wind and ask.

Round eyes blink and his head tilts. “I know,” you sigh heavily. “I just need to relax, right? Your father’s more than capable of handling himself.” You pause. “No—” You shake your head as memories of times you witnessed firsthand Mando’s… unorthodox methods, and every silly and possible situation he alone has gotten into.

“Fuck,” you groan and hide your face in your hands.

A dull pain aches in the back of your head and starts to spread to the top. It envelopes you almost completely, leaving you irritated and fidgety. You want to get up, maybe drink some water to combat the pain, but before you can lift a muscle a warm glow illuminates from the tip of your toes, gliding through you like a wave of calmness.

You look down at your feet and the reason for your sudden comfort sits at your feet, three grubby fingers latched on to your shin with his eyes closed in concentration.

“No no buddy!” You stop him quickly, gently pushing his hand away from you. He looks up at you and the scrunched lines on his forehead tells you he’s confused.

“I know you’re just trying to help—” you pause, unsure on how to continue so he can understand. The Child curls his lips back and gurgles what can be assumed is more questioning behind your reasoning, and that just makes the headache radiate with a vengeance.

“Let’s just—” you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “—let’s just lay down for a little while, how does that sound?”

You can tell he’s not too fond of that idea, but is reluctant to do so anyway as he turns around to lead you towards the small bunk. You help him up onto the cot and tell him that you’ll be back before closing the door.

It’s quiet tonight. The air is chill but welcoming and there’s a hint of green in the air—the scent of the trees around you doesn’t deter the smell of something rather enticing but so, so far away, where he is…

You shake the thought away. It’s silly to still be having them, or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself to appeal to the downfall. But that’s the last thing you want to think about right now, and with a blade in your hand and holster on your hip, it’s not exactly the right time to.

You make sure the area is clear; not that you doubt Din’s camflogage skills by any means. It takes five minutes of you walking around the Razor Crest scoping every inch of the area your eyes can meet until you deem it safe enough.

The Child is sitting up when you secure the doors, seemingly waiting for you. Putting him down is easy this time, no fussing or tantrums he’s been more than happy to throw lately, and by the time he’s passed out by your side, you’ve counted a hundred and sixty of his quiet breaths.

The next step you take is closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to try and relax your timid body but after five of them you finally decide to give up. As long as he’s out there with zero communication from his side, you’re not going to be able to relax and it’s killing you.

He’s fine, your reasonable self assures. It’s not the first time.

But he could have gotten hurt. Or worse. He could really need you.

You take a chance and glance at the sleeping child, because if there’s anything rational left in your system right now, the sight of the Child’s face alone should make you stop and really, really reconsider this idea.

…

But you can’t say that you’ve always been full of bright ideas.

***

You can’t see shit out here.

The light you carry illuminates a few feet in front of you. In the pitch fucking dark, it’s making you rethink a lot of your recent decisions.

Honestly at this point, you’re positive you’ve walked far enough to get yourself turned around and lost, the last thing you want on any given planet in this parsec.

So you stop dead in your tracks and do a slow peak of your dark surroundings, considering all possible options should anything jump out—Stars you can’t handle that right now.

Crack!

Your neck pulses from the sudden whiplash of your quick turn, a startling gasp giving away your surprise; your blaster is raised half blindly in front of you, and you think that maybe you should take your chances and turn the poor light off too—

There’s a millisecond of a bright, silver flash that temporarily blinds you and it all happens too fast for you to process what’s going on until your blaster is ripped out of your sweaty palm and leather covers your open mouth before the scream erupts from your clogged throat.

“It’s me.”

There’s approximately twenty more seconds before the overwhelming thump in your ears begins to dull—only when you can hear the music of the night that you calm down and remove Mando’s hand from your mouth.

“What the fuck?!?” You whip around to hiss at him. “You could’ve given me a fucking warning at least.”

Mando scoffs and begins walking away, barely turning around to make sure you’re following.

“And why are you out here? Where’s the kid?”

“At the ship,” you huff, struggling to turn your light back on as you nearly trip. “Asleep and safe. You know I thought something bad happened.”

He stops with a light sigh and turns. “I know. My com—I thought you fixed it.”

Your eyebrows scrunch defensively. “I did. I’ll take a look at it in the morning, alright?”

He nods. “Thank you.”

The walk back is silent. You don’t mind that so much now, even with that one question burning at the tip of your tongue.

“Alright,” you finally give in as the Razor Crest comes into view. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I just going to have to use my imagination?”

He chuckles. “A few complications, nothing to really worry about.”

You figured as much. “Well, I’ll set the coordinates while you freshen up,” you offer as you come closer to the ramp.

As you’re about to open it, leather gently grabs your wrist.

“You tired?” He asks huskily.

You swallow thickly, a pool of arousal already stirring between your thighs.

“Maybe a little,” you decide to tease.

Mando reads you for a moment and when the corner of your lips tick in a curve of a smirk, he knows it’s all part of the game.

“Hmm,” he hums, taking short steps towards you until your back hits the metal outside of the ship.

He doesn’t stop there. Mando presses body entirely against yours, as far as he can go with the Beskar in the way, so that he can grind his hips against yours in an upwards motion, practically lifting you to the tips of your toes.

The surprised and breathless moan that leaves your wide open mouth is absolutely sinful. Mando must think the same thing with the subconscious stutter of his hips, as if the sound was a surprise to him, too.

“You think about me a lot when I’m gone?” He almost coos. “That why I found you stumbling around in the dead of night? Need your pussy filled some more, pretty girl? Huh?”

You lick your dry lips, staring right into the visor. “Where did this… fascination come from?” You counter equally playfully and curiously; almost accusingly. “When did you suddenly start caring about my pretty pussy.”

You’ve picked up enough to know that you caught him off guard. His hands, which have been resting on either side of your hips, tightly grips and squeezes.

“Don’t think we’re gonna make it inside,” he dodges the question and indicates to the ship.

You think you hit some sort of nerve.

“Better hurry then.”

He wastes no time. Before you know it he’s yanking his glove off of one hand and shoving it down the front of your pants, fingers eagerly searching for your wet, seething heat. When he finds it he groans in appreciation, thick fingers circling your needy hole.

And already you’re trying desperately to not make a sound, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention that could take you away from this.

“Missed me that much, huh?”

Your eyes narrow. He suddenly pulls his hand away and it takes everything in you not to scream at him.

“Mando,” you growl quietly.

“Look,” he holds his fingers up.

His middle and ring finger glisten with your wetness as he holds them up rather smugly, and it makes your heart stop and the coil in your stomach pulse. So, without thinking, you open your mouth wide and inviting.

Mando does not hesitate to flatten his fingers on your tongue, moaning a breathless, “good girl”, when you suck on them.

“Fuck,” he chuckles when you swirl your tongue and moan around them, peeking up at him like you did that first night you sucked his cock.

He pulls his fingers away with a trail of your saliva drooping between you and slides his hand back into your pants, immediately palming your aching cunt; the tip of his finger circles your slit, gathering your juices up to your clit, where he outlines the sensitive nerves.

“Mando,” you whine as you try to lift your hips, urging him to take the plunge. “Please, fuck me.”

“I will,” he promises. “You’re gonna cum.”

He says your name and there is absolutely nothing special about the way he says it, but it still gets your juices flowing onto his hand.

“Kinda hard to,” you snap, pointedly looking down.

Without saying a word Mando plunges two thick fingers into your pussy. You let out a choked moan, feeling full already and relishing in the spark of pleasure that sings its relief.

“Already gripping me so tightly.” He all but croons as he starts to pump his fingers at a leisurely pace.

It’s good, the way his fingers curve with each thrust, barely missing a beat in finding the sweet and tender spot that gets your cunt weeping, and you find your hips rolling into him; trying to get him deeper inside you but he continues to tease you just a little.

“Mando,” you pant. “Faster.”

Amazingly he complies. He shifts slightly to get a better angle at your sweet spot and when he hits it your legs start to tremble. Your lips are rolled in a poor attempt to hide any sound of pleasure and the coil in your lower stomach tightens until you can feel it deep in your pussy, already getting ready to erupt when he pulls his hand away.

Fuck. Him.

“Don’t worry,” he assures before you can curse him as he goes to his belt. “We don’t have a lot of time and I need to be inside you now.”

The low growl makes your heart stutter. You pull your pants down, stumbling a little when you rip your damned shoe off so that one of your legs is free of the fabric. Mando hums in approval and mumbles a deep, “Turn around.”

You do without hesitation, planting your palms on the unforgiving steel and sticking your ass out towards him.

“So needy,” he teases. “So wet.”

You feel the hot tip of his head glide through your folds, lubricating himself while teasing you still. It’s maddening, but when that bulbous head rubs against your clit you find all complaints drowned in a sweet chorus of your groans.

Then, without another sound passed between you, he pushes down on your lower back for a better arch and pushes in.

“Oh shit.”

You scrunch your eyes and hiss at the pain of the stretch. Mando stops and grabs the back of your neck gently.

“You good?” He asks, nearly breathless himself already.

“Just give me a second.”

He does, rubbing your exposed skin underneath your shirt. His cock, barely halfway in, pulses and sits hotly inside you—the feeling alone makes your abused cunt quiver around him.

After the burning ceases to a dull ache you give him the okay to move. He pulls out completely and slides his entire length inch by inch into you until his hips are flushed against your ass.

He starts an even pace, not too hard but not too soft, just relishing in the suffocating heat of your walls. It feels nearly romantic in a sense—his hands gripping your hips pulling you to his thrusts, the soft pants, the light grip on your neck that just keeps you in place, and how with the occasional thrust he grinds his hips right into you and hitting a spot so deep inside you—

“I said,” he ruts his hips in a sharp thrust, making you squeak. “This tight little pussy can’t get enough of me, right?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak through shallow breaths.

“Right,” he agrees in a sigh. “‘Cause this pretty cunt just can’t go without my thick—” he snaps his hips and presses them flush against your ass again but this time he gives a dirty grind that swivels your insides in a delicious pleasure that ripples violently through you.

“No,” you drool, not letting him finish his sentence.

Mando tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you harder against him, spearing your cunt so brutally that, after this session, he’s not going to be able to touch you for a few days—you don’t think your pussy can handle it.

“C’mon,” he grunts, sliding his palm down your stomach and to your mound. “Like you said—” Another thrust that literally propels you into the wall, so deep and hard that he went right with you, metal against cloth yet you can feel the heat simpering off him and enveloping you. “—we need to cum.”

The moment he circles your clit your orgasm peaks around the corner, churning deep in your gut.

“Mando Mando Mando, fuck.”

“Yeah, give it to me,” he growls deeply. “G-give me your fucking cum—shit.”

Your pussy clenches painfully around him, sucking him as deep as he can go as the coil finally snaps. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood and your back somehow arches further away, but he follows you without missing a beat, pressing back into you so that you have no choice but to feel every ridge and vein of his gorgeous cock; with your pussy clenching him as hard as it is, the slight aroma of your arousal and sweat gliding through his filters, and the way your body just convulses underneath his touch, his unforgiving and—yes, he wholeheartedly agrees—thick, glistening cock spearing into you like it’s the first time, it doesn’t take long for Mando to follow after.

He holds himself inside you as he comes, filling you deliciously to the brim.

“Yes,” he growls quietly. “Yes that’s it.”

He gives you a few more gentle thrusts before pulling away from you completely. You whine, already missing his warmth, the weight of him on top and inside you. It takes a moment to catch your breath, letting the beads of cum drip out of your pussy and down your inner thighs before you take a wobbly step back.

“Here.”

Mando surprises you. Instead of watching you like you thought he would—as he usually does—he holds your pant leg up for you, chuckling under his breath when you nearly fall on him trying to get your wobbly leg through, and pulls your pants up and fastens the button on them. The action is so small, so simple, and yet it feels entirely heavy on your chest.

“Time to go,” he mutters.

He doesn’t give you enough time before he’s opening the ramp and stomping his way in.

You stay in place, watching the air dance from his intrusion; if it weren’t for the evidence between your legs, it’d be like he was never here.

Tags:

Nights where everything is quiet and half the world is asleep and Bucky’s home comes as a hard tie. Because with them, you get moments like these. 

“Did you know,” Bucky murmurs, his breath hitting your face. “that some cats are actually allergic to humans?”

The dim light of your TV flashes across his beautiful face. Your room is dark save for that, and you and Bucky are lying on your bed facing each other, hands cradled between your bodies as he plays with your fingers. 

“No,” you hum. “I didn’t know that. How does that work?”

He shrugs. “Beats me. I just... what if Alpine was allergic to me? Or you? What if—“

You’re laughing. You can’t help it, and you do try to hold it in but you just can’t. 

“Hey!”

Bucky makes a face and that breaks the dam for you. You laugh even harder, doubling over and curling more into him. He keeps your hand in his as he watches tears starting to form out of the corner of your eyes and, quickly, he joins you.

“C’mon I’m serious!” He giggles and wraps an arm around your waist, scooting you even closer to him.

“I—I’m sorry,” you gulp, letting him slide his leg between yours and wiping at the streaks on your face. “It’s just—your face! It was so funny, you should’ve seen it!”

Bucky’s chest rumbles with yours, unfiltered giddiness blooming in the air around you; soft, peaceful, calm.

It’s beautiful, otherworldly, you think. He agrees.

“I think,” you finally sigh, settling into him more comfortably. “that if your cat was to be allergic to anyone, it’d probably be Sam.”

That gets Bucky throwing his head back in a childish laugh, mouth wide open and eyes squinted shut. You bite down on your lip as the biggest grin follows and try desperately not to blink because you just can’t waste any second of this.

“‘Pro’ably right,” he mumbles through a small yawn. “Cats don’t like birds.”

He sinks further down the bed and lays his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around you. Half of his weight is on you—though he’s always careful not to squish you—and you don’t hesitate to wrap an arm around his shoulders and bury your fingers in his hair with the other.

“Hmm.” He hums contently. “That feels nice.”

You smile softly. “I know it does, baby.”

You continue to gently scratch his scalp and within minutes he’s a snoring, drooling bear on top of you.

You sigh, planting your hands on your hips. The Mandalorian continues to lay on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow, dark curls a tangled mess, lips pouted and eyes staying shut; the muscles of his bare back loose and relaxed.

“Pleeeease,” you try again. 

He sighs and groans exaggeratedly as he turns on his back—his face scrunches adorably when he tries to adjust his eyes to the light. 

“What is it?” He grumbles and rubs his fist against his eyes. 

“Wait wait wait hold on,” you scramble for the last piece, slipping it carefully over your head, and when you speak it’s filtered, “Now!”

How Din could ever see in this damn thing, you will never know and maybe that is just you, but at least you can still make out the confused furrow of his brows before the grin overshadows it; you want to kiss the crinkles and the dimple that never fails. 

“I’m you now!” You throw your covered arms outstretched; you didn’t slip on every piece of the armor, the man wears a lot, but what you do have on is heavy enough. 

Din’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter as he leans up on his elbow, tilting his head at you curiously. 

“Is that what all that ruckus was about?” He asks. 

“Yessss,” you drawl sheepishly. 

Curls bounce with a shake of his head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah but I’m your dork,” you counter with a lace of pride. 

“C’mere.”

You take the short steps to the cot and take his outstretched hand, yelping when he pulls you down. “Hey!”

“Oh stop,” he teases. “Although I gotta say, it is a look.”

He slaps a loud kiss on the visor where your mouth would be, making you giggle, and follows with pressing his forehead against yours, briefly closing his eyes; yours automatically do the same. 

Silent seconds pass by and if it weren’t for the helmet, you would be sharing the same breaths right now. Still in this, there is peace—a quiet stillness that used to be so foreign for the Mandalorian. 

“It’s a really good look,” Din continues, voice deeper than before. You know where this is going. 

“Yeah?” Your voice sounds oddly through the modulator. “Why don’t you undress me then?”

The growl is instantaneous. So is the gentle yank of your arm, bringing you fully down so he can roll you onto your back, slanting his body perfectly against yours. With your help he pulls the helmet over your head and gives you a proper kiss, nipping at your lips until you open up to him; his tongue explores your mouth 

“Should I fuck you like this?” Din grunts above you, each word hitting your open mouth. “In my armor? Fuck—” he shudders and slowly grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the growing bulge in his pants. 

The idea had never crossed your mind before and honestly? It turns you on more than you care to admit. 

“Yes,” you gasp, grinding up into his slow thrusts. 

He trails his lips over your cheek, down your jawline, where he gives you a few nibbles, and finally to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access, moaning softly when he brushes against your pulse point. 

Then without warning he reaches for your sweet spot and bites down, cupping your jaw to keep you in place as you cry out and arch into him. 

“O-oh kriff,” your voice trembles, arousal pooling deep in your core. “Din—” you pull him up by a small tug of his hair and capture his lips in a clash of spit and teeth, speaking in between pecks. “—just. Fuck. Me. Need. You.”

“Y-yeah,” his hands shuffle in between your slithering bodies, unclasping the button to your pants with liquid ease. “Can’t wait either.”

You help him pull your undergarments down and off your legs, immediately going towards his and palming him with a sultry twinkle in your eyes. He sucks in a breath and stutters in your grasp. 

“If I’d known wearing this would do this to you I would’ve done this a while ago,” you chuckle, giving him another quick squeeze. 

“Fuck, please?” He gasps, rutting in your hand. 

Deciding to be merciful you pull his pants down far enough so that his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach; your mouth waters at the sight. 

Din pushes you down before you can even think of tasting him, muffling your whine of protest with a greedy kiss; his cock brushes against your bare sex and fuck the shiver that runs through you and directly to where you’re aching for him, positively pulsing with a starving need. 

“Ready?” He asks, lining himself up. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod, taking a deep breath just before he sloooowly pushes in, filling you inch by thick inch to the brim until you’re so full. 

“Din!” You exhale. 

He gives you a moment to adjust, laying nips and hard sucks on your neck, reaching the hand that isn’t gripping tightly to your thigh down to slide underneath your shirt. 

“Move,” you plea. 

He pulls back so only the tip is inside and slams back into you with a soft grunt, holding himself up with his fists. You let out a strangled moan, the rest of it caught in your throat with the second hard thrust that racks your body upwards. 

Din doesn’t hold back, using almost every bit of weight he has, driving into you with a beginning frenzy. 

“You like that?” He snarls gruffly. “Feel me fucking you s-so deep—maker.”

You writhe under him, not a coherent thought crossing your brain, nor a complete, full breath—he feels fucking amazing, hitting every sweet spot inside you with abundant persistence until your muscles start to tense and shake and heat builds in your stomach.

“I’m gonna c-cum,” you stammer, digging your fingers in his forearms.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Din huffs, slamming his hips harder and deeper into you. “Wait for me.”

It’s so fucking hard to when he’s fucking you like this; grunting and moaning above you, tiny beads of sweat slinking down his chest, towards the apex where a small patch of hair trails down to his cock, driving in and out—slamslamslam and you feel him throbbing and now he’s touching you, applying the right pressure—oh...

“Cum,” his neck strains red as his hips clap against your thighs and lose their steady rhythm. “Cum now.”

Another three thrusts and you do. Hard and long, dragged out by the sweet drag of his cock and then he buries himself deep, cumming inside you and letting out the most obscene mix of a grunt and growl you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Din rolls his hips once, then twice in a lazy circle before collapsing on you, hugging you to him. After a few moments he pulls out of you with a hiss from him and a wince from you; his cum dribbles out of you and your face scrunches at the feeling.

“That—” Din pants, plopping himself down next to you. “—That, is something we’re definitely exploring.”

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“Honey just admit defeat,” you huff with a smirk.

“Nope,” he grunts. “Just gotta give me a few more minutes doll and this thing—“

A loud crack followed by a series of crackling makes your heart nearly burst from your chest. You stare in shock, eyes widening each second you take in the splinted piece of wood in his hand; he stares dumbly at it, eyebrows scrunched in such a way that it makes you laugh.

“No way,” you gulp through your giggles. “Buck I can’t believe you just did that!”

He looks up at you and finally a smile breaks across his lips. “Shut up,” he laughs with you.

Another uncontrollable wave washes over you to the point where you’re clutching your bulging stomach—a kick flutters against your palm.

“Ugh I gotta sit down,” you manage to breathe. “Before I pee my pants.”

Bucky chuckles and holds his hand out to help you, letting you place most of your weight on him as you carefully maneuver yourself next to him on the carpet.

The crib, or what was supposed to be a crib, lies in shambles—screws and wrenched here and there, pieces of wood scattered around you, and the instruction manual, crinkles from Bucky’s frustrations.

And that’s when you think, the Bucky Barnes just got defeated by a crib.

“If you’d just let me help,” you sing song to him.

“I know I know,” he grumbles adorably. “Just... I wanted it to be a surprise for you. I know lately hasn’t been easy for you...”

He places his hand against your stomach, the metal cooling through the thin layer of your shirt. You and he grin when the baby kicks against him.

“We’re okay,” you assure him softly. “You shouldn’t worry so much.”

Bucky scoffs. “I’m always gonna worry. You two are the most precious things in the world to me.”

Your heart inflates at the words, the gleam in his blue eyes when he looks at you and your unborn child. He never fails to love you more and more everyday, and every cell in your body loves him back all the same. You lean in and give him a soft but chaste kiss and rest your forehead against his. The curls of his hair tickles the top of your head and his nose brushes lovingly along yours... it’s so easy, getting lost in moments like these; calm, peaceful, warm.

“Let me help next time,” you tease.

Bucky has always been able to take your breath away with the simplest of ways, but this smile in particular—crooked, toothy, and stretched so wide that it brings out all the crinkles around his eyes—makes your whole world freeze in a comfortable glow that just screams home.

“I’m not going to hear the last of this for a while, aren’t I?”

“Wellllll—“

His lips clash against yours before you can finish.

Like now, with the way he fucks you. Rough and yet gentle, crude words as he pounds into you followed by a soft praise. 

“Fuck look at your pussy, taking my cock like a good girl.”

You respond to it like you do every time, even when you know that this will be it; you knew it the moment he walked through that door, giving you one look before clashing his lips to yours. 

“Javi,” you gasp through another powerful thrust. “Javi.”

Javier grips your hips tighter and maneuvers you closer to his hips, panting just as you are; a sheen of sweat covers his chest and his hair is tousled from your fingers, pouty lips pulled back in a snarl, he is one of the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in this world. 

Which makes this so much harder. So fucking hard. Tears start to sting at the back of your throat but you swallow them down; you will not ruin this. 

“Hey,” Javier slows his thrust to a languid stop, keeping himself deep inside your weeping pussy. 

The scrunched lines on his forehead tell you he’s worried—funny, because he knows exactly what he’s doing. So, what is he exactly worried about?  

You finally think it’s hitting him. What he’s doing. Coming to terms with the decisions he’s made. Sees right through your façade and realizes just how hurt you are; it’s more than that, much more and if that doesn’t tear him apart too then what was the point of any of this? 

It’s not just the sex you’re talking about, either. That’s always a given with the infamous DEA agent Javier Peña and you knew that from the start. It’s how he checks in on you throughout the day, making sure that the dangers that plague him aren’t passed on to you, going farther by making sure your doors and windows are always locked and secured, giving your door handle a jiggle after he leaves and locks it. How one time, when you got sick and tried taking an extra shift at your job, he fought to keep you in bed so you could rest. Or when he would just sit with you in your tiny apartment; comfortable silence, small talk here and there, shoulders brushing against each other in a nervous, unspoken dance. 

It’s all the things that make up the definition of love. A sensitive topic for someone like him, so afraid of letting anyone see his true colors, all the love he has stored in him—when he shows even the slightest of it, he runs. You knew that from the beginning, too. 

“Let me ride you,” you whimper. 

He nods and leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. It’s not enough for you, so you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him back; he lets his body slant perfectly atop yours, cupping your jaw with one hand while steadying your trembling thigh with the other, allowing your tongue to trace gently around the seam of his slightly chapped lips and opening his mouth to your eager tongue. 

This may be the last time you’ll ever get to taste him. 

The thought makes you whimper, but he takes that as a sound of pleasure and grinds his stiff, thick cock into you, breaking the kiss to let out a low groan. The curls of his pubic hair scrapes against your clit, making your pussy jolt with the much needed attention. 

“I got you,” he assures in a soft coo. 

You wish that were true for more than this night. 

“I got you,” he repeats as he carefully turns the two of you over so he’s lying on his back, keeping your hips connected. 

For now. 

Looking at him from this angle makes the ache in your chest pulse wildly. Those dark chocolate eyes of his peering up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing yourself, a goddess in the making, the light in his darkness—this is going to destroy you.   

“Please,” he begs in a whisper. “Baby. Please?”

He knows. 

Placing your hands on his hairless chest for balance, you lift your hips as far up as they can go until his slick red tip hovers just below your puffy folds, and slide back down hard. 

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back. 

He keeps his fingers on your hips, digging blunt nails deeper into your flesh with every harsh thrust you give him; he isn’t hitting your g-spot and the drag of his cock against your velvety walls is only enough to teeter you on the edge of an orgasm he’s chasing, but that doesn’t matter to you right now. 

What matters is the mewls he lets escape through closed lips, a rumble in his throat that vibrates through you. The intimacy in how close you’re pressed against each other, not an inch of you untouched or unmarked from his hands, or mouth; they’ll be reminders in the coming days. 

Then suddenly, as if he was reading your thoughts, he sits up and wraps his arm around your lower back to keep you close, thrusting up into you as you go down, finally hitting that soft spot inside you that curls your toes.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes against your mouth. “Always so wet for me, so good to me mgh—” He chokes when you move faster, tugging on the small strands of hair on the nape of his neck. “Shit, princess.”

Javi attaches his mouth to your breast, latching on to your perk nipple and hollows his cheeks; his mustaches scratches your skin and you want to take back any time you ever complained about it. You whine and hold him to your chest, angling your legs to stretch out; the action brings him deeper inside you, bumping against your cervix so hard that there’s definitely tears now. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, feeling your whole body shiver along with your cunt. 

He lets go of your breast with a pop. “Close?” He moans. 

You nod. He pulls you down with him, holding the back of your head so that you’re angled with his face—sharing the same breath, noses brushing against each other, tongues flicking out for another quick taste of the other.   

The claps of skin against skin echo louder in your bedroom, along with the obscene squelches of his cock slamming into your pussy. The bedframe slams against the wall with every push and pull, and you know that in the morning you’re going to hear it from your very pissed off neighbors; you’ll tell them they won’t have to deal with it anymore. 

Javi plants his feet on the bed and starts drilling into you, holding you down so that you have no choice but to take what he gives you. Pointless babbles fill the air, begging for more, give me more than this, more of this. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, feeling your pussy spasm around him. “O-o fuck keep going, baby don’t stop.” 

Your moans spur him on. “I won’t. Gonna cum deep inside this gorgeous pussy, f-fill you up so that you’re dripping for me.”

Your pussy clenches at the words, earning a strangled gasp as you feel his cock throb. You bury your face in his neck, nipping and sucking at all the spots you know turns him to mush. 

“Princess I’m gonna—” Clapclapclapclapclap. “T-touch yourself, let me feel you soak my cock.”

Your eyes squeeze tightly shut and you follow his order, bringing your hand down between your desperate bodies to circle your aching clit. 

“Javi,” you preen in his ear. “I’m—”

The rest of your sentence gets stuck in your throat. The coil in your lower stomach is too much to keep a hold of, eliciting a blazing tightness in your core that just snaps under the pressure of his onslaught but you want this to last, fuck you don’t wanna cum now but he’s—shit you can’t breathe, you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t feel anything other than the warmth radiating off him and the clenching of your cunt—

“Yes,” Javier gasps. “That’s it, that’s it baby, just like that.”

Your moans get louder and louder until they turn into screams, and you can no longer hold back and your pussy explodes around him, gushing him in your juices. 

“Fuuuuck,” a growl resonates deeply from his chest and hot ropes of cum spurt into you after, and yet he still moves inside you, pushing through the persistent fluttering and the combined fluids of your releases until the sensitivity gets to the both of you. 

Your moans mix together into a chorus, dying down with the pace of your thrusts, drawing every bit of your orgasms out as you can. You collapse on his chest, panting heavily; his chest moves quickly, heart beating rapidly and steadily under your ear. He continues to hold your head, lightly scratching your scalp and rubbing your back—if you didn’t know any better, it’d feel like he was staying. 

Your eyes start to droop under exhaustion that seeps from more than the physical workout of the night. His fingers slow and curl until they gently rest, holding you—the way he does is comforting, and real.   

This. This is what you’re going to keep precious. This is how you’ll choose to remember him after all that anger subsides. The real Javier Peña you know and love.

A few moments and he sighs and pats your hip. You flinch as you lift your hips off him, his cum leaking out of you, some even dripping onto his soft, glistening cock; you ignore it. 

You pull the sheet over your naked body as you watch him quickly pull his pants up, forgoing boxers. He reaches across from you where his cigarettes rest on your nightstand, not looking you in the eyes and turning his back to you once he straightens. You expected it, but it doesn’t ease the sting. 

The muscles of his back curls deliciously as he curls his hand around the cigarette. The orange gleam of the burning stick glows as he sucks the smoke in, inhaling deeply before exhaling away from you. The smoke curls around his head, slowly disappearing just like he will. You can’t take this anymore. 

“Javi,” you finally sit up, struggling to keep your voice from cracking. 

“I know,” he interrupts; his voice sounds forced, like he’s struggling himself. “I—I… you know…”

It brings a sudden ignite of fury in you. Now that he’s acknowledging it out in the open, it’s not only the heartbreak that’s been clouding your life, there’s now rage boiling inside you. 

How dare he? How dare he take your heart and stomp on it right in front of you and not even have the grace to say sorry? Or make this any less painful for you when it’s his fault. Hisfaulthisfaulthisfault—

“Yeah.” Your voice is, surprisingly, steady. “Just take care of yourself, Javier.”

You see it. The way his face crumbles. You don’t know what he expected.

He says your name, hesitates, then finally makes up his mind. 

“Is it okay—fuck never mind.” He waves it off.

You don’t want to ask him what he was going to say—you’re too afraid to, if you’re being honest. 

“I’ll always love you, Javi,” your voice trembles with tears. “But if you can’t love me back, if you can’t work with me on this… Javi I can’t let you hurt me like this anymore. It’s not healthy, for either one of us.”

He watches the tears stream down your cheeks with glistening eyes of his own. It creates a stir in your chest, tying your stomach in knots, tightening your throat, knocking all the air out of your lungs; you wouldn’t wish this kind of pain on anyone. 

It seems like an eternity of staring at each other. Committing the other’s features to memory, remembering the good that isn’t tainted, shadowed by the agonizing reality he’s created for himself, bled onto you by your own free will. 

Silently he gathers the rest of his clothes scattered across your room. He dresses leisurely, and as angry as you are with him you’re grateful for the extra few minutes before he walks out your door for the last time. 

When he finishes fastening the last button of his shirt and slides his shoes on you can’t help it. You throw your legs over the bed, not bothering to throw your shirt on and throw yourself in his arms. 

“Hmph,” he grunts, nearly doubling over from the unsuspected force. 

You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. He hesitates again, but when his arms do wrap themselves around you it’s crushing; you feel the muscles in his arms bulge from how hard he’s hugging you, making it a little hard to breathe but you don’t care. You inhale his cologne, the smell of smoke on his clothes, the shampoo he uses for his hair, the different soap for his body; he’s doing the same, burying his face in your neck as well. You hold each other until it reaches a point that if you don’t let go now, you never will.

Javier’s the first to pull back. Calloused hands cup your cheeks, gives you a glimpse of the torture behind his eyes, and he leans in and presses a final kiss to your forehead; he holds it, keeping his lips still, and something hot and wet trickles down over your eyebrow. 

When he walks away he doesn’t look back. His footsteps toe quietly away, followed eventually by the soft thump of your door.

The door handle jiggles and the sob you’ve been holding back breaks free.