#shield gaming

“I got the chair set up in the living room,” Bucky said, gesturing vaguely, though his face radiated a kind of single-minded pride. 

The new chair was the excuse to invite you over in this new thing developing between you two. 

You looked around to see the gaming setup: two monitors, a stack of unopened peripherals, a rug with a hexagonal pattern that looks both overpriced and necessary, and the new chair glowering in the middle of it all. You whistle, low and sincere.

“Did you assemble it yourself?” you asked, dropping your bag by the arm of the couch.

Bucky nodded. “Instructions were ass. Had to use a torque wrench and also, for some reason, a knitting needle.”

“I can’t believe you ordered this,” you said, standing in the middle of his exceedingly tidy living room and gazing at the monstrous, throne-like rig now squatting in the corner by the window. “Isn’t this just for, like, competitive streamers?”

He shrugged, a little sheepish despite the way his arms bulged against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I had a coupon code.”

You snorted. “A coupon code? I know how much these cost.”

He didn’t answer, only grinned.

You looked back at the chair. “Honestly, this is a throne, Barnes. Am I supposed to kneel, or do you want me to sit on your lap?”

He barked a laugh, but his face also flushed a bright red, which made you squirm and bight back a giggle. “Right to the quick and dirty with you then, huh?” he huffed. 

You sidled up to the rig and ran a hand over the buttery armrest. "It's just… intimidating. A little intimidating, is all." But the look you gave him was anything but cowed: challenge, flirt, and a wink. “But you know I like a bit of that.”

He stepped closer, and you could feel the tension between you, coiled and humming. A summer ago you’d have fizzed and fizzled away, but he’d made it clear he was interested in you. With the new context, the heat between you was alive and kinetic. You turned the chair a quarter turn and dropped into it with a small bounce, swinging your legs up and crossing them, spinning slowly to face him as he prowled closer with your offerings.

He took an energy drink from the pack, cracked the tab, and took a slow, deliberate pull, eyes never leaving yours. When he handed it to you, his thumb lingered on your fingers a half-second longer than absolutely necessary, and you both noticed. 

Heat. That, and the chill, was all you could feel—like your body was ice and your blood was infused with caffeine, and you weren’t sure you cared which sensation would win the day. You took the drink from him and matched his stare, then took a deep, throaty gulp, neat as a dare. He watched your throat bob, and you watched his eyes darken in the process.

"Want to do a test run?" he said, voice a little hoarse.

You gestured at the rig, then at your own dumb self. "Am I being beta tested or testing your set up?"

"You're the only one I want touching the hardware," he said. He moved behind the chair to tweak the lumbar support, and his hands bracketed you for a moment, near enough that you could smell the clean musk of his deodorant and something sharp, synthetic, like ozone. You tried not to shiver.

You hovered the mouse in digital menus for a while, glancing up at him as he fiddled with the monitor tilt to angle it to your height. 

When his hand brushed your shoulder, you bit the inside of your cheek, stubborn about maintaining composure. He was so very close. It was almost cartoonish, how much he dwarfed the chair—how much space he seemed to take up, even as he hovered behind you. 

You toggled the settings up and down, but your focus was split—one half on the clicks, the other half on the lazy, weighted way his fingers traced the edge of the desk before finally, gently, pressing a gummy into your palm. You snorted a laugh, accepted the offering, and chewed it slowly, the sour sugar kindling microexplosions on your tongue. 

“You always this pushy?” you asked, through the bits of candy. 

He spun the chair a half-turn, and you swung with it; suddenly you were between his knees, his hands still on the chair, knuckles whitening, body close enough you could see how uneven his breathing had gotten. He was on the edge of something, but you couldn’t tell if it was restraint or anticipation or just the general frazzle of having you here, in his space.

“I’m not pushy,” he said, voice dropping a register. “I just know what I want.”  

“Which is?”  

“You,” he said, and it landed, heavy and real, like a gauntlet thrown onto the desk.  

You watched the line of his jaw, the quiver in his throat, the way his knee bounced faintly as he tried not to betray himself further. It was easy to be arch, easy to be glib, but this feeling—this weird, hovering intimacy—made you want to be honest, or at least a little less armored.  

“I want you, too,” you said.  

He exhaled. Some fractional tension left his body, but the rest of him stayed coiled, ready, a held breath of a man. 

"Show me," you said, soft but certain, and Bucky moved like something in him had snapped. He dropped to his knees, the chair pinched between his spread thighs, and his big hands slid up your calves, thumbs pressing in circles through the fabric of your leggings. He looked at you with an intensity that bordered on worship and then he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your leggings and peeled them down to your ankles. 

The chill of the apartment hit you, but then so did the searing heat of his breath through the cotton of your underwear, and then the wet, rough press of his tongue as he mouthed you over the thin fabric. You squirmed, powerless not to, as he mouthed you again, harder this time, and then with a quick, almost ruthless rip, he had your underwear balled in his fist and your cunt bare, already dripping for him. He groaned, low and husky, the vibration shivering through your pelvis as he licked a stripe from the base of you all the way up, then circled your clit with the flat of his tongue until you gasped. 

You tipped your head back and let the ceiling blur in your vision, the whole apartment a fog around the too-real focus of his mouth on you. The chair creaked under your grip as he sucked your clit between his lips, slow and thorough, each movement measured to draw out as much sound from you as possible. He buried his face deeper, nosed along your folds, tongue fucking into you with a sweetness matched only by the wanton sloppiness of it—like eating you was an assignment, a pleasure, a calling. 

"Bucky," you choked out, and your hands found his hair, the soft pull just making him moan. He tipped his face up, mouth gleaming, eyes black with want, and leaned in again, licking you open before plunging his tongue deep into you and groaning like a man starved. The vibrato of it dragged a startled yelp from your throat that dissolved into shivering laughter, pleasure ricocheting up and down your spine. 

You bucked your hips against him, not out of strategy, but because something in you wanted him impossible-close. He was ready for it—one of his hands shifted up, palm flattening against your belly, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He licked you again, long and thorough, then flicked his tongue over your clit until your thighs shook and your eyes blurred. 

You let out a noise you’ve never made, high and ragged, and you barely registered when he pressed two fingers inside. He curled them up, pressed them right against where you needed, and pumped in lazy, devastating rhythm and you thought you might actually come apart on this very expensive chair, melt into the synthetic mesh and memory foam and leave a mark that would never quite come out.

You tried to be mindful of the world beyond the two of you, but the rest of the apartment faded into static, overwritten by the wet drag of his tongue and the rhythmic pressure of his fingers as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck—Bucky, I'm—" you managed, andhe stopped. Abrupt, like a door slamming behind you in a dark hallway. He pulled back, hands braced on your knees, eyes hot and unsparing as he caught your wild, desperate stare. You were right there, flailing in the slipstream, and the sudden absence of him was so sharp, so mean, you made a wordless, strangled noise. 

He licked his lips. “Did I give you permission?” he said, which was a new configuration of Bucky Barnes, and a terrifyingly effective one at that. 

You panted, air thick in your throat, and managed a shaky, “That’s not fair.” 

He smirked—wolfish and soft all at once. “Never said it would be.” 

You gaped, mind sputtering, a strangled whine caught in your chest. He arched an eyebrow, his grip tightening just barely, just enough to be felt as a promise.

“I—” you started, but there was no good answer in you, not with the way he was still kneeling at your feet, thighs splayed, cock straining beneath the thin cotton of his sweats, tongue glistening with evidence of your complete undoing. 

You gripped the arms of the throne, knuckles white and trembling, and glared at him. “You’re a goddamn bastard,” you managed, but it sounded more like a plea than an accusation, and he grinned as if you’d handed him the highest compliment.

“Say it again,” he murmured, rising just enough to flatten his palms against your thighs and push them wider, stretching you open under his gaze. “Say it like you mean it.” 

“You. Are. A. Bastard.” The words came out in staccato, punctuated by the slow push of his fingers, finding your pulse point inside and curling up. You moaned, the sound guttural. He moved with impossible control, his face soft with worship even as his hands worked precision chaos between your legs, returning you to the edge and holding you there.

You flattened a palm to his scalp, not because you needed leverage but because you needed to anchor yourself, stake some symbolic claim on this moment so you didn’t simply burst into flames and cinders. The heat between your thighs was a different kind of fire, stoked with each lazy, wicked pass of his tongue, the way he sighed into you, the way he watched your every twitch and quiver like it all belonged to him. 

You said it again, softer this time, nearly a gasp. “Bastard.” 

He smiled against you, the curve of his mouth obscene and perfect, then he pressed inward and set a brutal, indulgent rhythm with his tongue and fingers both. He wanted you to break, and you wanted to let him. The chair rocked under you with your gathering tremors, and he pressed your hips down, not letting you back away from the rush of sensation. You whimpered, then pleaded, but Bucky kept you right there, eyes fixed on your face as you. 

“Please.” You heard yourself say it. Nothing else. No elaboration, just the honest edges of the word. 

Bucky slowed, then stopped, withdrawing his fingers with deliberate, excruciating slowness. The ache in your cunt was so intense it bordered on grief. You reached for him blindly, but he caught your wrist, holding it in the air between you, his thumb pressed just enough to be present at your pulse. 

"You don't get to finish yet," he said, voice low and purposefully cruel. "You hate when a game is too easy. You’ve said so yourself." 

Your breath stuttered, a high, keening sound escaping your chest. You blinked at him, not sure if you wanted to cry or hit him or both. “But… this isn’t a game though.”

“No,” he affirmed, his tone more serious, recognizing you checking in with him in the moment. “It’s absolutely not a game.”

Your heart warmed and relaxed, and you both smiled at each other. 

But then a moment later Bucky was back in it. He rose up, looming over you with the intensity of a thunderhead, and a thrill ran through you. He hooked his thumb under your jaw, tilting your face up to his. “Open your mouth,” he said. 

You did, breathless, trusting. He leaned in and pressed two gummy strawberries to your tongue, sour sugar dusting your lips, and then he followed with his own mouth, tongue licking up the flavor before it could dissolve. You tasted yourself, the candy, his breath—clean and a little wild. When he bit your lip, gentle but hungry, you made a noise you didn’t recognize as your own. 

“Barnes,” you hissed, gummy half-melted and sticking to your cheek. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

He drew back just enough to see your smile. “Not kill. Ruin. There’s a difference.” 

catching up with these two again a week later: RACING

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“Only if you’re ready to lose, Barnes,” you volleyed back, thumb smashing through the post-race results screen while your body hummed with the giddy threat of a dare. The room was electric in a private, slow-burn way; cold energy drinks sweating on the coffee table, couch cushions molded together over weeks of shared time, the only light a blue-white halo from the TV screen and the blinking city outside his windows.

You'd spent every night this week in some version of this position—shins tangled together, hands alternating between controller buttons and each other’s bodies, the press of competition sloping gradually into the intimacy of shared laughter that sometimes, lately, ended in his mouth on your throat and his hands working under the hem of your shirt. You didn’t always kiss. But every time you did, it was tactile and greedy.

An hour after the comment that launched strip-Mario Kart, both of you were nearly naked, skills a good match to each other, but though both of you were too competitive to give up, you were also both itching and eager to, well…

He lunged for you after taking first at the end of the next race through Rainbow Road, the controller skittering to the carpet as he bore you backward into the arm of the couch. You shrieked with glee, then outright moaned when he caught your recently-exposed collarbone in his mouth, biting just shy of a bruise before sucking the tender skin.

“Bra or jeans, pay up!” he growled.

Such were the limited options left to you.

“Jeans,” you gasped, and reached down to pop the button. He watched as you wiggled your hips and shimmied the garment down off your legs.

He moved in close again, his skin deliciously warm against yours, and moaned in satisfaction when his hand plundered between your legs. “So wet, you must’ve been waiting for this.”

“No,” you batted him away, laughing, “you have to beat me or forfeit before you get to touch my pussy tonight!”

He stared, ice-blue eyes flickering with primal offense and delight. Then he sat back, naked from the waist up, the thick, dense chest that you drooled over now cast in cool shadow.

"Fine, but the more I want something, the better I play," he warned.

-> indulge in other SEXY SEPTEMBER SCRIBBLES

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Sam chuckled. “I told you, man, you should wait until he’s out of the room to bring in new lists of purgatory for perfection.”

“He never takes a break. None of you take breaks,” Steve said.

“'Attitude reflects leadership, Captain.'"

"Don't quote Remember the Titans at me."

“Barnes just needs to fuck her.”

Steve’s head snapped over to Nat. “You know what, Romanoff?”

“She’s right,” Joaquin added without looking up from his screen, but a smirk on his face none the less. “His blood has been boiling for her for months, it’s about time he stops ignoring that.”

“Shit, Barnes!” you yelped, clutching your heart with one hand and an energy drink in the other. “Anyone ever tell you not to lurk in the dark?”

“I’m not lurking,” he groused.

“What else do you call lying in wait to confront someone? Especially in the dark? Alone? Leaning up against the wall, no less.”

You knew you were far from the only person in the building, but this late at night, you were the only tester still around and usually had this wing of the offices to yourself. This was a side gig for you, you only did it because you loved the game and loved getting to preview things before it was even sent to the beta test group of users, but that meant you usually only crossed paths with the handful of other official tester employees for SHIELD Games like ships passing in the night who basically clocked normal business hours.

“I don’t see you turning on any lights,” he said as you returned to your preferred spot on the couch.

“I prefer to play by glow of television,” you responded with a dramatic tone.

If Bucky rolled his eyes, you didn’t see it. “It’s how I’d be playing at home, keeps me focused so I can help you do your job.”

Which is why he was here confronting you, as you had so aptly noted. “I’m damn good at what I do.”

“And the only reason you hate my lists is because you’re already a god damn perfectionist so you can’t stand when I point out the flaws you missed or suggestions to make your work even better. But that’s why Maria hired me. Your community manager knew the user feedback I was giving when you launched the game was excellent.”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head, crossing his arms.

“Your game is only perfect after they put it in front of my face, Barnes.”

“Shut up.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Make me,” you said and took a swig of your energy drink.

Bucky pushed off the wall and in three swift, silent steps was in front of you. With your head tilted back as you drank, you only saw him when he leaned forward, looming over you. You spluttered a little, and he smirked.

“You won’t be able to talk with this in front of your face,” he said, as he opened the front of his jeans and pushed the denim and his boxers down his thighs in one go.

You would have roasted him for saying something so cliché in any other circumstance. But your brain was short-circuiting, and you were trying to rapidly re-establish the connections.

His right hand took the can out of your grasp and set it on the side table next to the couch, and his left hand cradled your chin, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

You looked up at him. Your heart was racing, and your pussy was thrumming. You were not certain this was real. He’d been the quiet one, a bit surly, but you had been surprised enough he’d come to confront you about the feedback in the first place and never would have put a penny on the odds of something like this happening with the gorgeous game designer you’d harbored a bit of a crush on but decided after the first week wouldn’t come to anything.

This was an unexpected side quest.

You nodded.

He pushed the tip of his cock to the edge of your lips, your tongue slipped out to circle the head. In one swift motion he gripped the back of your head and thrust his cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, and your hands flew up to hold onto his hips.

He used your mouth with abandon, and the hold of your hands on his hips was firm, encouraging. When you choked on his thick member, he slowed for a moment, then you squeezed his hip, and he speed up to his brutal pace again. This happened twice more, you having taken him deeper in your throat each time. Tears streamed down your face now, and he groaned when he looked down at you.

“You look so god damn beautiful,” he couldn’t help saying.

You whimpered, and he swept a thumb over your cheek, wiping away the tears, then brought them to his mouth.

He could feel the build of his climax at the root of him, and pulled out of your mouth abruptly, knowing he was too close to finishing and not ready for this to come to an end yet.

You fell forward, but he was instantly kneeling in front of you, ready to catch your lips with his. The kiss was hungry, and your mouth full of the taste of him made Bucky groan again. Your hands tangled in his hair, slotting in despite being pulled back in a low bun. His hands had returned to hold your head as commandingly as they had when he was fucking your throat – one in your hair, one along your jaw.

When you were absolutely breathless, you finally pulled away.

Foreheads planted against each other, breaths still mingling, you licked your lips.

“Why don’t I show you what these hands can do?” he asked, one hand falling to your hip, rubbing his thumb down the crease of your thigh toward your core.

“Don’t tease.”

“Oh, no,” he agreed. Then with both hands, he pulled your hips to the edge of the cushion, hooked his fingers into the top of your pants, and peeled them down along with your panties. You pushed up to raise your hips so he could remove them completely, but your efforts were hardly needed as he used one hand to push you up, and the small show of unexpected strength made your insides squirm. He was built – you had seen it – but you hadn’t experienced the reality of it.

Bucky didn’t leave you a second to think about it any further as his fingers slid up and down your wet slit, he spread your outer folds and stroked your soft inner folds, and you moaned. Your eyes slipped shut, but you felt him watching your face. He was watching for how you reacted to each of his ministrations. He pinched your clit, and you yelped.

Your eyes flew open, and you saw his were filled with a mischievous glint. “Just testing all the possibilities,” he said.

You hit his shoulder. “I said no teasing!”

“You always want the experience to have more unexpected elements for the user to play with.”

“Bucky!” You did not want to hear one of your recent lines of feedback recited back to taunt you.

Except you did.

He was playing this game so well.

He slipped two fingers from that large, warm hand of his inside your cunt and began to pump. Your eyes melted closed again, and seemingly satisfied with his study, you felt Bucky claim your lips for more kisses while he pulled you closer and closer to an orgasm. It built steadily, his thumb at your clit, fingers in your channel, but when he curled those fingers and found the spongy spot against your pubic bone, it hit you instantly, and you cried out his name. He pulled your head into the crook of his neck while his other hand slowed in your cunt but helped prolong riding out the waves of your pleasure.

“Satisfactory experience?” he asked once your breathing started to return to normal.

You laughed against his shoulder, then pulled back to look at him. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, and he smiled.

“You know, I wasn’t afraid to poke the bear because you’re brilliant, I knew you could take it. You want to be the best, and I help give you that.” You reached down and took his still hard, leaking cock in your soft hands, and Bucky’s breath hitched. “Now, do you want to let me take you? I’m aching for you to fill me up.”

He groaned. “You can’t say shit like that.”

You nipped at his bottom lip and smirked. “Yes, I can. This company values my direct and honest feedback.”

He huffed a laugh.

“Where do you want me?”

Bucky quickly shoved his jeans all the way down his legs and settled down next to you on the couch, legs spreading wide. “In my lap.”

“Sounds just about right,” you said, straddling him.

His eager hands pulled your slick cunt flush against his groin, and you both moaned. You planted your hands on his broad shoulders, and rocked your hips just a little bit. Even that short back and forth of friction, his cock stroking your engorged clit, had your head falling back. Bucky pressed his lips to the column of your throat, not wasting an opportunity so inviting in the moment. You sighed and held his head to your neck where he continued to explore and mark you with slow, hot kisses, finding the places that made you shiver.

While you were lost in those sensations, Bucky reached down and lined his cock up with your slit, but that brought you back to the thrumming need to be filled by him, and you sunk down while he thrust up into you. He was thick, and he filled you more than you were used to, but not to a point of pain - far, far from it.

“Feel so good inside me,” you keened.

“No feedback?”

“Just fuck me until I can’t breathe, Buck.”

“With pleasure,” he growled.

After passing through two intense first levels of play, climbing to the final peak did not take long. One of his hands remained anchored at your hip to control the punishing but desired pace of thrusts, but his other steadily slid underneath your shirt and up your spine in a delicate way in contrast to everything else happening in the moment, including your lips returning to his in another kiss designed to devour.

Bucky felt you hit that crest of the climax, your muscles seizing in a moment of bliss, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. As you came down, he maneuvered you both to lay your back on the couch while he did just as you asked and continued to thrust into you hard, you boneless but in a blissful haze, unconcerned with trivial things like breathing, while he pursued his own pleasure. Then all at once he groaned and began to spill his hot seed inside of you, pausing for a second with the first ropes of cum, but then continued with deep, slow thrusts until he was completely spent.

It was a snug shuffling, but the two of you managed to get so you were both laying on your sides on the couch, your back up against the cushioned backboard, Bucky’s back to the glow of the giant television screen so all his muscled angles were silhouetted for you to admire in the afterglow. His legs were bunched up – possibly uncomfortably – and you tangled yours with his. You pushed some hair that had escaped from its knot at the back of his head off of his face, and he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm.

“I think we’ll need to continue testing this,” you whispered against his lips.

You felt them curve into a smile before he said, “Thorough testing, absolutely. Need to explore all potential scenarios.”

“I’m glad you’ll be more amenable now to my feedback.”

“Oh, I never said that.”

You poked him in the ribs.

“Come on, you love the complex storylines. You don’t want me easily conquered.” And before you could protest, and claimed your lips again, this time in a long, slow kiss, no intention of leaving any time soon.

Too caught up with each other, neither of you heard the approaching footsteps, the gasp on discovering you, the moans they bit back when they gave over to touching themselves there in the dark, watching you, or their nearly silent retreat.

READ THEIR FOLLOW UP IN TEST PLAY

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Teams all across SHIELD Gaming had been and still were working around the clock to get the shelved-for-later Deep Shadow Conditions mode back into the release SHIELD was going to submit to the first party platforms for approval in just a few days. Marketing, story, game engineering, testers… everyone. It was a rush, pushing the limits for this short period of time, but they were close to pulling off a triumph with embedding Deep Shadow. Joaquin had loved the pitch for that aspect when it was originally floated, they had initiated the development, but then a couple of the execs had said to push it back to the next release. Fury had called the audible and said they needed to put it back in to top what HYDRA was developing with Project Insight. But Joaquin had always known Deep Shadow would really push them miles past everything else coming out right now.

That’s why he didn’t mind pulling these insane hours to get the work done with the rest of the engineers.

And he certainly didn’t mind this.

He had no problem leaning back against the wall of the women’s restroom, jeans unzipped, Natasha poised between his legs, and her pretty lips around his cock, deep throating him.

Fuck she looked so good like that. They hadn’t had enough time together since the Deep Shadow blitz, and he was so glad she’d pulled him into the bathroom right now. Her left hand was anchored on his hip, and the other was reaching up his shirt, roving over his abs and chest as his threaded into her hair, holding her head at the base of her skull. He was letting her control the pace and how much of his length she took in for now, just holding her, feeling that connection.

Joaquin had been under no illusion in the beginning that this absolute goddess who was ten years his senior had only been flirting with him because it was fun and had no intentions beyond more than maybe a night or two tumbling in bed together. But he’d had a hunch they could have more, that he wanted more, and categorically convinced her they were worth a shot.

He worshipped her but challenged her in a way no one else did. He knew that’s why she’d even started flirting with him, appreciating that he could go round for round with her sass, her sarcasm, and her saucy comments without getting flustered or cocky and the rest of their conversation – work and casual – had rolled along so easily like they’d been working together for years after only a few weeks.

Now they were eight months into an officially-disclosed-to-HR relationship – but not to their team because they did not need Cap, Sam, or Bucky in their business. Work was work, and until tonight, the physical had stayed outside of HQ.

It spoke to how little time they’d had together that they were here right now.

And he was just as hungry for her as she was for him.

Joaquin took over and pulled her head down slowly on him, drawing Nat down to take all of him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat, then gently nudging further down her esophagus. She moaned around him, her hands flexing against him. “You always take me so well, Romanov.”

He knew she loved this. She was a cocky little minx and so loved the praise. In response she sunk the rest of the way down his cock. He groaned in ecstasy. Love this.

“Fuck, I could stay here with you on my dick until your legs give out.”

She tightened her grip on his hip.

“But I wanna fuck this pretty throat of yours, babe.”

A small noise from her as she stayed just as she was, their eyes locked on each other.

“That’s what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

Those lust-blown green eyes told him everything, and he grinned wickedly down at her. Abruptly twisting them around to place her on her knees with her back against the wall, he made sure she was secure before asking, "Ready for me?"

She hummed again.

He smirked. “Desperate for me?”

A growl this time.

He laughed. “Me, too, babe.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, one more tender moment, then he slowly pulled out until only the head of the cock was the only thing she had her lips around. She sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks, and swirled her tongue over the leaking tip of him. “Oh, you’re so fucking good. Love that talented tongue. But now you’re really gonna take me.”

She nodded, eyes blazing with heat. He moved his right hand to cradle her cheek and jawline as he leaned his left forearm against the wall to brace himself, and then he thrust back into her wet mouth. He continued, pistoning his hips in and out, brutally but not recklessly. She clung to his shirt, his hips, anything from moment to moment. Her eyes watered, then the tears started to spill, and he groaned. “So pretty for me like this. Those gorgeous tears falling for me, just like you fall apart for me.”

And then he just focused on the feel of her around his cock, the heat, the sounds of him sliding in and out, her whimpers and moans. The frenzy built and then he spilled into her mouth and down her throat, hips stuttering to a stop, and she held him there in place, swallowing every bit of him until he was done. She pulled her mouth off him with a deliberately audible pop, smug, beautiful goddess that she was.

She slid up between his heaving chest and the wall, brushing her lips against his jaw with soft, playful kisses. “Like that?”

“Love that,” he corrected. “Bet your cunt’s a hot, drippy mess for me, isn’t she?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased before claiming his lips in a kiss, tangling their tongue so he could taste the evidence of his spend, and pushing her pelvis up against him.

“Meet back here in an hour?”

“Fuck, I’m hoping we can convince them there’s nothing more to do tonight and get out of here in the next hour. Then you’re taking me home to fuck me in your bed properly.”

He laughed, “Anything for my Natalia.”

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