soulthatwanders | [for Bruce]

[for Bruce]

It's only weird if you make it weird. Don't make it weird.

With that thought firmly in mind, Wanda took a deep breath and knocked on Bruce's door, jacket slung carefully over one arm. She'd put the task of returning it off for as long as she could because she'd secretly been hoping that it might disappear with the rest of Manhattan and she'd be off the hook, but it was apparently native. No such luck there.

Not that she wanted to avoid him forever, of course, but she really had no idea how it might go, and as far as she was concerned, New Year's had proved that her judgment was apparently weirdly impaired where he was concerned. Still, as long as she didn't make a big deal out of anything that had gone down (which was pretty much nothing, anyway), she was fairly sure it would be fine. Why wouldn't it?

"Anyone home?"

Not weird.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wanda tipped her head up just enough to see him better, and somehow, the sight of him kissing her ended up being just as potent a turn-on as the feel of it, and while she was doing what she felt was an admirable job of keeping her breathing even, it nevertheless came in heavy intakes, the rise and fall of her chest visible even to her. Her hands flowing incessantly across shoulders and arms, trying to memorize the feel of him, so different from what she was used to and yet everything she'd come to want; it wasn't nearly enough, and she brought a leg up to run her foot along the back of his thigh (her sandals having been lost somewhere along the way to the bedroom), any additional point of contact serving as a lifeline, even with their bodies pressed together that way.

In the back of his mind, there's that nudging reminder to pace himself, to not take this too fast or be too hasty - for as much as he believes it could never happen, there's a very slim possibility that all this excitement could trigger something a lot worse. And yet he doesn't want to stop, for her sake as well as his own, because when he nuzzles his cheek against the swell of a breast and marvels at the softness of her, he realizes he could very well get used to worshipping her in this way. His hands are already, albeit tentatively, seeking to remove the barriers of clothing from skin despite not being undressed himself.

Wanda sat up a bit, eager to help him along, hurry him up, anything just to keep moving, keep on pushing for that intangible more that kept running through her head. Even still, it was difficult to resist the urge to just bend down and kiss him again, to drag him back up and drape herself in him.

He lets her pull him up when she beckons, realizing he wants to cover her as much as she might need him to do it - even if it means leaving the task he originally set out to accomplish unfinished for the time being. But he still can't resist letting one hand ghost down, thumbing the curve of her hipbone, just enough for it to be felt.

It was a strange sort of relief to have him there, surrounding her in a way that she could really see herself getting used to (untrue, maybe, but not in the moment), and Wanda sighed against his mouth, contended save for the way her hips pressed needfully up against him at his touch, however light.

The tiny voice in the back of his head is driving him on towards more, more - but he stops himself, refrains from doing anything too suddenly or forcefully until she gives him the go-ahead, whether verbally or otherwise. The push of her hips against his hand, though, is pretty easy to interpret, and while he may not be the most dexterous sometimes, he can still manage his way around buttons and zippers with only one hand to use while the other threads into her hair, tangling in silver strands.

It was almost as if she'd been in something of a trance from the start, but this was all finally starting to feel more real by the second, and Wanda's heart beat a quick, frantic tattoo as she took her hands off of him just long enough to help push her shorts down her hips, silently cursing herself for wearing something so tight. Awkward shimmying wasn't sexy, even if it did grant a little extra friction. It wasn't as if wanting to get them off in a hurry had a been concern of hers that morning, though.

Now he's starting to realize how very overdressed he is in comparison - but then again, he's more distracted by her state at the moment to care too much, and once again he lets his mouth descend, kissing her gently yet with purpose, moving over her collarbone, the swell of a breast, the smoothness of her abdomen. In the end, though, he hesitates near her hip, glancing up at her, as if waiting for some kind of acquiescence, even if it's only in her gaze.

The day was still warm, his touch still burned, but a shiver ran through her nonetheless as he trailed kisses across her body, drawing lower. Wanda wouldn't tear her eyes away from him to save her own life, and by the time his look met hers, there was only one thing on her mind, let alone her tongue.

"Bruce," she murmured, the end of the syllable turning up as if it were a question, practically pleading as she ran a hand lightly through his hair. She was aching for him.

That word - his name, but more importantly, the way she utters it - is like a direct tether to what beats behind his ribcage, beating hard enough to feel akin to exploding, and it's all because of the way she looks at him and speaks - begging, breathless.

He turns his face away, muffling an audible groan against her hip even as he coaxes his way between her legs, nudging one shoulder under her thigh. She's beautiful, aching, wanting, and he can't obey anything else but the drive of his own need. There's no self-doubt, no-fear. It all washes away the moment he puts his mouth to her to taste for the first time.

A quiet, strangled gasp died in her throat as her head fell back to the bed, rising into a moan. For a moment, it felt like too much, like he would have to back off because there was no way she could possibly survive this, but the thought of him stopping was absolutely unthinkable and what had previously been a gentle, urgent touch as she ran her hand through his hair was suddenly something significantly less light.

Like an animal, his head almost perks up at the sound, nearly straining to experience more of it in any way he knows how - but this is new, still so new, and so he treads lightly, not sure of what will make her gasp versus cry out in delight, make her fingers strain for a grasp on his head the way they are now, curling deep enough for him to feel her nails lightly scratching against his scalp. He responds to her move with one of his own, emboldened by her responses, and prays he'll somehow stumble upon the right pattern that will leave her unable to form a single word.

Wanda's eyes fell closed, her breath coming in short, panting gasps as her muscles tensed, hitching her leg up a little higher over his shoulder. He was doing some amazing things to her, and while she was very well acquainted with her body, this wasn't exactly something that a girl could get on her lonesome. These were entirely new sensations, and she could only drink them in, let them wash over her and hang on as best she could with only the occasional God or yes slipping out in between breaths.

He drinks up her responses and listens carefully, paying attention to the cues that are more subtle and physical at times and then listening for the way her breath hitches at others. She's soft and warm and sweet, everything that he considers himself the antithesis of - everything he'd been denying himself for such a long time. It's partly for selfish reasons that he revels in it now, wanting to push her almost to the breaking point before easing her down gently.

There was nothing else anymore, only his mouth, his lips, his tongue, any lingering concerns that Wanda may have had about doing this having been washed cleanly away by the spread of pleasure he was giving her. He was playing her body like an instrument, her toes curling when he hit upon a particularly good note, and what had begun as a slow build low in her abdomen quickly threatened to overtake her. "Nnn, just... just..." she tried to get out, her words failing her spectacular.

Just like that.

Maybe he doesn't have to worry about being good enough, just good enough for her. That thought alone is enough to calm any anxieties he might be harboring about his lack of experience in the area. He almost can't put a description to what he experiences, resting a palm against her abdomen to feel her tense and shudder. It's a combination of being excited by her, very excited, and soothed by her very presence. Her words die in her throat and he murmurs her name, low and against her skin, before his fingers pick up the slack and he teases them into her, slow and rhythmic.

She cried out only once, a short, sharp sound, raw and desperate as he coaxed her so gently over that edge, as much shock as ecstasy. Her fingers tightened in his hair while her other hand balled the sheets tightly at her side and she almost curled in on herself, both shoulders and hips rising slightly off the mattress for an instant as she came. God, how had she survived for so long without this? And how the hell was she supposed to survive without it again?

Words are failing him in the silence that follows as she slowly relaxes. He can feel the harsher layer of tension leaving her body within the aftershocks, and he eases back, propping himself over her again. One elbow keeps him from completely crushing her while he brushes her hair back from her face, gazing down at her.

"You know," he starts, voice slightly gravelly, "when I said 'repeat offense', I wasn't exactly picturing - well, this."

Wanda's smile at that was small but unguarded, with no small amount of lingering desire behind it. "I was," she admitted quietly, curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt collar. She'd known exactly how much she wanted him, wanted from him, when she'd kissed him, even if it had terrified her. Still did, in fact, only now she felt too good, too boneless and satisfied to care, more alive than she'd ever felt since... well, since she died.

His responding grin is genuine, almost comically self-deprecating after everything that's just transpired as he ducks his head slightly. "Maybe it's a good thing that one of us was," he softly answers, fingertips combing through long white strands. "Should I feel concerned that maybe it was you holding the reins all along?"

Wanda gave a quiet huff, almost self-conscious in a way that had nothing to do with her state of undress as she shook her head minutely. "Believe me, no control here."

"No?" Bruce's grin widens visibly, shifting from sheepish to something close to boyish in resemblance, and he's still smiling as he moves to let his face hover over hers, mouth drifting nearer. "None at all?"

If there was, she wouldn't be there at all, would have had the sense to shut things down from the start and not let them get all tangled up in her head. But that clearly hadn't happened and so there he was with his disgustingly attractive self and all Wanda could do was shake her head again.

"Not even a little," she whispered, tugging him down into a kiss.

The chuckle that slips past him, muffled by the kiss, is real - real and easy and unexpected and it almost takes him aback entirely with how freely it happens, evidence of the powerful effect she has on him already.

Maybe he can get used to this lack of thinking, he decides, and willingly lets her maneuver him where she chooses.

His laugh made her chest tighten slightly; not even a lust thing, but one of simple affection, which was just as worrisome, in its way. Smiling into the kiss nonetheless, she ended it by pushing him up so she could get his shirt off. Step one in whatever continuing mess she was going to get herself into was getting him undressed so she wouldn't feel quite so... debauched.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject