#rotstern

“i love you.”

“    you get to look at me all night.   ”         but she'll acquiesce    —     crosses room, finishing placing the last earring on as she comes to stand between his knees.  it's a dagger of a dress with the low dip along her spine,  sharp and all exposed skin.  it's the mission:  infiltration & espionage.  in, slide through the party of dignitaries, leave listening devices in her wake.  catch what she can by ear as she does.  but it's been years since she's actively participated in it.   palms spread across shoulders as she stands, not taking final step closer to him so he's welcome to take it all in.  in all her years, she's had men look at her in every way imaginable.  none of them the same way james barnes looks at her.     SHE HASN'T TIRED OF IT.     she won't.  thumbs graze back ‘n forth over his neck where her hands rest, weight shifting on heels to change angle to show her bare back.    “       is that better?         ”         lips curve into wry grin as she peers down at him.        she’ll keep coming back     —     they've got forever to keep this, them, going.      “       this is easy.  you'll be right where you can see the room.  in and out.  few hours at most.   there's nothing to worry about.        ”  

“    ебать.   ”         the low timbre to his voice,  the growl when they're entangled., never fails to send rolling shiver along her spine.        green eyes dart to reflection in the corner.  old, speckled mirror, but good enough to see.  see both of them     —     her,  lips parted, irises wide and dark  flush to her cheeks, him solid and steady draped over her back,  their hips meeting harshly with every thrust of his hips.       SHE LOOKS ABSOLUTELY WRECKED IN THE PRETTIEST WAY.     sweat glides from hairline down her arched back,  flanks heaving with each breath.  more staccato as her fingers tighten in the wrinkled mess of sheets.    "        look how good you look inside me, james.         "         she pants, grinding her hips back against him.  he was right    —     she's at the edge.  right where her thighs are going to shake,  loudest cry since they stumbled into this room locked together in a mess of limbs is going to burst in a sharp echo around empty bedroom.        where her pretty cherry nails are going to tear into sheets with more force then she intended.        that's how he always leaves her     —     a sated mess in the middle of their bed, half wrapped 'round him to sleep.

"  don't  look  at  me  like  that,  @rotstern.  you  know  it  does  shit  to  me. "    any  icy  glare  of  oceanic  blues  offer  a  fair  warning,  yet  soften  to  what  he  calls  babydoll.  emma  made  breakfast,  which  is  no  easy  feat  coming  from  a  woman  with  zero  cooking  skills.  willingly flipping any positions to get more of his attention.

@rotstern said look how pretty you are when you're about to come. ACCEPTING.