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Your body aches. The good kind of ache.
The kind that will, tomorrow, remind you how good it felt and will make your stomach flutter with that funny feeling when you’ll think about it during breakfast. The kind that will make Yelena’s voice drown out into your filthy thoughts while you’ll have to look over at Bob like nothing even happened in the first place.
Your hand paws at the bedsheets, still unsure how to occupy them as you lie on your side, your neck twisting when it makes way for Bob to press his mouth there – he moans when he does, his broad hands gentle when they hold onto your hips as his own lazily but sharply snap against you in a thrust that knocks the breath out of you, languidly but hungrily fucking you like he’s not sure whether he wants it to last. You’ve been at it for a while, but it’s always a game of decisions for Bob, torn between the need for it to last forever and the need to have you unravel.
Your shoulder blades press closer against his chest when he manages to make you arch into him, his arm wrapping over your stomach to bring you even closer against him and reach deeper inside you – he would crawl into your skin if he could, you’re pretty much convinced of it.
“I missed you so much” he breathes into your ear, his hips slamming in that slow but firm rhythm again, his cock dragging so deep inside you it makes you dizzy.
“I’ve been gone two days,” you manage to huff out, though the slight trembling in your voice betrays your teasing.
He chuckles, half dazed, a quiet whimper forced out of him when you clench around him. “God– way too long” he mumbles into your neck when his face buries there again. “I need you all the time”
You couldn’t help the smile that grows onto your face even if you tried – not when his teeth are grazing against the sensitive skin of your neck and his hair that falls here tickles it softly, his strong arms caging around your stomach to have you pressed as close to him as possible, so eager and so vocal about it. “It’s kinda funny how insatiable you are” you tease.
You feel him huff out a small laugh of disbelief. “And we both like it, don’t pretend that you don’t” his hand snakes down your stomach to settle between your thighs where you meet, fingers gently rubbing and circling at your clit. “I got you” he murmurs when you squirm in his grip and grind against his touch for more, entirely surrendering to your need.
His nose nudges against your shoulder, the ghost of a smile imprinted onto your skin when he leaves a kiss there, hips grinding into you with more desperation when he adjusts his pace, the soft but lewd sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with the quiet sounds and exhales leaving your mouths.
You feel the warmth of his breath against the back of your neck, feel the slight shudder of it as his eyes squeeze shut when he comes to once again remind himself how lucky he feels to be buried inside you, to be the one to have you like this after all the ways he was convinced he didn’t deserve it.
“You feel so good” he mumbles, voice weak as he senses you getting closer, feels your walls fluttering around his cock with each mindful and deliberate brush of his fingers as he massages your clit, when his hands once used to be so shy over you.
“Oh Bob, fuck” you curse when you feel that familiar heat grow in the pit of your lower stomach, light headed from the dual stimulation, that warmth coursing through your veins as your muscles begin to tense.
He curses under his breath, locking in on the current pace following your response to it, making sure to keep that same rhythm to drive you to the edge. “I wish I could see your face when you get like this” he pants into your ear, forehead digging into your hair, getting antsy with the need to make you finish. His teeth sink in focus, his hips bucking, your mouth agape in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering shut.
“Just like that, just like that,” you keen, nearly there.
“I know” he exhales, unrelenting. “You’re doing so well” he murmurs, voice low and ragged with lust. “C’mon, give it to me. Please”
It could as well be a coincidence that it happens the exact same moment he begs you for it, but you’re grabbing at his forearm that’s looped around your waist, fingers digging just to get a grip and a firm hold on him when you feel it hit you – he doesn’t stop for a second, continues working you through it when you shudder in his arms until your body goes limp in his hold, limbs rendered numb, his own thrusts stuttering when he feels you come around him.
His face buries into your shoulder with a broken moan, desperately rutting a final few times as he spills himself inside you, head spinning like he’s floating out of his own body, his grip on you only loosening a little once the feeling starts to fade away.
His hand absent mindedly caresses along your side, eyes half lidded with the weight of his climax, and when you turn to him, his lips are on yours before you can fully do it, already a step ahead. You sigh breathlessly into his mouth, the tip of your fingers delicately brushing away the curl sticking to his forehead, body fully shifting onto your other side so you can face him.
Your head comes to rest over his shoulder, and you remain like this until your chests slow, breaths evening out. His thumb draws soft, mindless circles over your hip, his mouth meeting your forehead to leave kisses there from time to time.
Then, not that long afterward, his voice breaks the comfortable silence, still hoarse but laced with a playful edge in his tone when he asks,
“…Can we go again?”