severer | ＯＰＥＮＰＯＳＴ．

You know, I know you said that you don't wanna have my children, but I still don't think that's a good reason why we can't practice.

[aka hello, it's johnny.]

Should I be concerned that you're exhibiting classic pre-nesting signs?

No, you should be concerned. You're looking at your future.

Texting it. Whatever.

How many times has that line worked for you, with all your other lady friends?

I would have to contact some of my old NASA friends and get back to you.

[ It feels a little close to home.

He's been on the run for a while now, literally ended up on the other side of the world and has made his way through the most remote locations, but stepping anywhere close to his starting point makes his skin itch, his mind restless, like the road walked up to this place has been rockier than any other, anywhere else.

In a way, it kind of has, but just in a psychological and emotional sense. He's also a little worried but at the same time— not. This is a safe house, after all, one of Natasha's safe houses, and she wouldn't tell anyone about it, would she? She wouldn't tell the others just in case he'd come here. He's sure of that.

... almost sure. (Can't blame the guy for being a little paranoid even now. Or especially now.)

But that's where he settles in. He's not sure how long he'll stay, but he needs a closer perspective, just not anywhere within American borders because there's no way he'd risk that right now. He drops his small bag on the floor, takes a shower, and gets dressed while thinking of where to go for something to eat. He's not too hungry yet, but it's bound to hit him sooner or later. Either way, the last thing on his mind right now is the possibility of someone showing up. ]

[ The first and foremost thing on her mind is that she has a visitor. A whole host of Natasha's safehouses have been fitted with silent alarm systems -- alerting her of any possible breaches because you can never be too careful, and in a world like hers, to be complacent is to be six feet under, because there's always someone that's coming for you.

In this case, however, it's the safehouse that's closest to where she is, and she registers a key in the lock -- and the only other key that's not her own had been given to Bruce (in case he ever needed it), and when she receives the alert, a part of her wants to hope. They didn't exactly end things on a good note; (or was it ever really an end?) but they're both adults and Natasha is fully aware of the fact that this is how things work. Not everyone gets closure, and not everyone gets what they want.

She enters the safehouse, silently listening to the sounds of movement. Anyone who wants to kill her won't be this careless if they didn't want to go back to their handlers in bodybags, and she pauses at the doorway when she sees a very familiar figure, the man who's slipped through her fingers. ]

There's food in the kitchen if you want some.

[ Bruce should have expected no less, knowing Natasha like he does, and yet the thought that she might get a warning that someone was here didn't so much as cross his mind. It comes to mind only by the time she's standing at the doorway, making some nonchalant remark about food, and he's whipping his head up, eyes wide.

There's nothing but silence for a while, a little awkward and a little heavy, like there's a myriad of things he should and wants to say but doesn't exactly know where to start. He's managed to slip on a shirt but it's only halfway buttoned up, his fingers completely forgetting to do the rest of the work. ]

Nothing past expiration dates? [ He's talking about the food, but he could easily be talking about something else. He licks his lips and swallows dryly, gaze dropping down. ]

I'm sorry. I... I didn't know you'd be around, and thought you wouldn't mind. Me coming here. [ Lucky for him he kept the key at all times, lucky for him it was tucked into his change of clothes at the Quinjet and not left behind at the Tower. But then he'd had plans back then— other plans, different from how things played out. ]

[ He's even better-looking than she's remembered, and it feels like a lifetime ago that he'd left when this whole mess started in Bruce's absence. Her gaze lingers on the unbuttoned part of his chest for scant seconds before she meets his eyes again, the silence a tense, awkward one.

She's never held it against him, his leaving; and she knows she has to allay the guilt she knows he's probably feeling. Too many things to say, but she starts at feeding him, mending whatever he thinks is lost when it's been here all along. ]

Nothing past expiration date. [ She assures him, and she means doesn't mean just the food. She's already heading into the kitchen to pull out a cans of vegetables, chicken, and baked beans. Nothing fancy, with everything designed to last just in case. ] And no, I don't mind.

[ She's opening them, putting them on plates. Natasha sticks the vegetables in the microwave. ] If I did mind, I wouldn't have given you the key. [ She smiles, using a fork to separate the chicken chunks so that it'd look more appetizing. ] You've been doing well?

[ There's a faint nod at the answer, like he understands but doesn't want to give it too much weight. She walks into the kitchen and he stays behind for a while, feet heavy on the floor, this time unable to move even if the last time they saw each other the urge to run was stronger than he could put to words.

But not now. Now, he can barely even make the few feet closer to where she is. (Then again, he also felt a little like that at times, before.)

He makes it to the doorway, standing on the threshold and watching her move around, getting plates of food ready. Glancing down, he finishes buttoning up his shirt, then takes a couple of steps into the kitchen. ]

I'm not sure 'well' is the word I'd use. [ He smiles like it's a joke. It's not. ] But I'm still here.

[ Or he's here now, anyway. ]

How are you?

[ It's not a joke, and she knows it, too. She knows Bruce, his habits, the way he smiles sometimes when it's not something particularly funny, his self-consciousness and his drive. There's a distance between them now that Natasha regrets, but there'll be a way to bridge it, somehow.

Natasha studies him for a few moments before the microwave dings, and the plate of chicken goes next, vegetables on the small dining table just beside him. The fork is next, set beside the plate.

She's leaning against the counter. He's still here, and that's what matters. He's here with her, and maybe they might have a chance to try this again, but she'll wait and see -- scaring him away is definitely not the order of the day. ]

Doing okay. [ On the run, but hey. ] I'm on the bad side of the law for awhile. [ Her smile is lop-sided, but she doesn't want him to worry. The chicken and beans are on the table next. ] Here, it actually doesn't taste as bad as it looks.

[ Well, he hasn't left yet, so that's a start. Were this some months back he'd probably have taken off the second he got the chance, but right now that's not even on his mind. He's not even sure what is on his mind right now, but he watches Natasha in hopes of trying to figure out what she's thinking. About him, them, all of this.

It doesn't really work. Bruce has gotten to know her better, understand her too, but most times she's still something of a mystery to him. Not that he's complaining, mind. ]

Thanks. [ He takes a seat by the table without argument, picking up the fork and slowly poking at the food on the plate. He's looking up again, focused on everything else she said, not looking particularly worried. ]

I've heard things. [ Not specific things, just the gist of it. He certainly didn't know what had happened to his former teammates, even if that was one of the reasons he'd ventured this close. ] I'm sorry. It's not too bad, for what it's worth. As long as you keep canned food around.

I'll keep that in mind.

[ Natasha doesn't have expectations. Or -- at the very least, she's trained herself not to; that's the quickest way to scaring Bruce off, and the man's skittish enough as it is. With their previous engagement left up in the air, Natasha finds it prudent to contemplate their boundaries.

It's something domestic, something she hasn't done in a long, long time. He's a welcome presence here in her apartment, at her table, and she smiles at that dry comment. She's missed his kindness, that cautious optimism, and she wonders once again what things would have been like if he had run away with her. ]

How about you? What brings you back here?

[ It's difficult to understand where things stand, where they stand in relation to each other. Usually this is the part where people talk it out but Natasha works in metaphors sometimes and Bruce doesn't usually believe in second chances— not for himself, anyway. So she doesn't talk about it, and he thinks that's a sign he shouldn't bring it up either, that it's done, it's over.

And that's fine, too. She's probably better off not getting involved with him, anyway. He's still not going to push her away or run again, not for now anyway, and maybe for now that means they can seek some comfort and safety in simply being near each other. Well, however safe one can feel in a situation like theirs. ]

Worried. [ He talks around a mouthful of food, swallowing it down before he continues. ] About you. About— everyone. I know things have been complicated but I didn't manage to find a lot of detailed information. I was hoping to... closer, I thought I could find out more.

[ It's not so much over as Natasha working to figure out where they stood with each other -- the attraction is still here; his presence and familiar warmth is something she's sought, and perhaps there's no better time for him to be here than now.

Natasha studies him briefly, trying to figure out what to say and what to withhold, how this whole thing had essentially broken up the Avengers, with Steve and the others on the run, Rhodey hurt, and Tony -- well, she hasn't caught up with him on account of being a fugitive; but at least it's on her own terms.

She smiles briefly, nonetheless, as she takes a seat next to him with her own plate. The smile is short-lived, as she looks him in the eye. ] I'm glad you're here. [ In it, the layers and layers of meaning; Natasha allowing herself to be selfish. Then, in a bid to provide a summarised explanation of the facts: ] Ross put the Avengers on a leash; now, the only people who are Avengers are Tony, Rhodes, and Vision.

[ Perhaps there's no better time for her to be here than now, either. Bruce is very used to being alone by now, sure, but that still doesn't make it any easier on him when he has to leave a whole life behind only to go on the run again. Sometimes he's not sure if this second time's been more difficult on him than the first or not, but one way or the other, it's particularly depressing knowing that he'd managed to build a life for himself again, to allow people close, only to have to let it all go— yet again.

But most of all, it's good that she's here because it means she's safe. So little information is known at times, or he has a hard time finding out what's happening, that after all the dust settled, he couldn't even find out what had happened to some of his former teammates. So this is how he knows that Natasha wasn't caught, or that she isn't locked up in some remote location: because she's sitting right here, next to him.

He lowers his fork, watching her in silence for a moment. ]

Sounds like he got everything he wanted. [ Well, not everything. Bruce is still missing and completely out of his reach, and the rest of the team has managed to slip from his grasp too. But now the General's in a prime position to hunt them down, and no doubt with the necessary power, means and influence to back him up.

Thinking too much about that right now is just a slippery slope towards pointless worry and paranoia, though, so he brushes it off for now. It's not like either of them can do anything to change anything, anyway. Instead he offers, in a softer tone, shoulders dropping and his body language opening up just so. ] I'm glad you're here too.

Not everything.

[ The most important thing (to her), is safe and sound in her apartment; Ross doesn't have Bruce Banner, and that's all that matters. She'll do what it takes to keep it that way, and it shows for a brief moment in the gleam of her eyes. Bruce might have walked away from what she'd offered to share with him, but feelings don't die so easily, and something catches in her throat when he opens up to her, so much like that day on Clint's farm.

This time, however; she's not the one who pushes him to. Natasha wonders (and maybe even hopes, even if such a thing is essentially childish), and decides to take the chance, because what's the worst that can happen now, right? Her hand is light when it rests on his, her gaze careful, questioning, longing, still wanting him with all her heart but this, now, is up to him. ]

Missed you. [ In so many ways -- how he haunts her thoughts, even when she's put him carefully aside like a dream she could never have. Now, it seems less impossible. ]

[ She puts to words exactly what he's thinking, though he doesn't like what hides behind that expression much. He wouldn't want her to risk herself just to keep Ross from getting to him, because as worried and scared as he is of what the General could do to him, he's much more terrified what he could do to Natasha— especially if he knew he could get to Bruce through her.

But she doesn't state it out loud, and he doesn't assume by pointing it out either. Besides, she soon steers him away from those thoughts when her hand lands on his, surprise making his body tense just so, even if he doesn't pull away from the touch. His eyes still land on it, linger there for a long while, as if his brain takes that long to process both her words and her hand on his. ]

This is still a very bad idea. [ The words lose a little meaning when he can't even carry an even tone, and when his fingers loosen up to curl around hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles in a tender touch. It's a very bad idea, yes, and definitely not what they should be focusing on right now, but her hand's warm and solid, when he looks up at her his heart picks up pace, and he can't seem to stop himself. Not that he wants to. ] I missed you too. Very... very much.

It is.

[ Natasha agrees, but they're only human -- full of bad ideas and wrong timing, but this feels right, and when he doesn't pull away from her, she leans closer still, tentatively pressing her lips against his own. It's a bold move and a gamble, her fingers curling in his as she tastes of him again, thinking of the many ways this could go wrong, and maybe he would walk out again after all.

What would she do then, if he chooses to go? She doesn't know, but he's missed her, too, and that's what matters. They can sort out the rest later. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, the anticipation, the unexpected nerves, the way she aches for want of him, to feel his arms around her, his heartbeat against her own. Natasha's rarely allowed herself such luxuries, and this feels like incredible extravagance. ]

Tell me to stop, and I will.

[ He freezes where he's sitting, her approach playing out almost in slow motion until she's close enough that he can't see anything at all, and his eyes are closing when her lips touch his. He doesn't pull away, though it's obvious he doesn't really know how to respond at first, or at least his brain seems to be having some problems keeping up.

There's a very minute shift eventually, a moment when he tips his head just barely and presses into the kiss, scoots a little closer. His fingers tighten around hers too, his heart jumping up and sitting at the back of his throat, the thumping slow but strong and loud in his ears.

He only realizes he's a little out of breath when she pulls away, an inhale turning almost into something like a quiet gasp, his answer a little too quick for someone with a compulsive tendency to overthink everything. ]

Don't. I don't want you to.

[ No more overthinking, Bruce; Natasha's waited long enough for that kiss, she's not going to let go again. She leans in once more, her mouth soft against his as she kisses him again, deliberate and wanting, every ounce of her longing poured into that kiss. ]

I still want you. [ She admits quietly, her fingers threading with his as her heart flutters, wondering what he would make of it, knowing that her heart hasn't changed. She might have her quirks and habits, but Natasha is not flighty -- she would accept it if he refused her again, because life doesn't work out the way you usually want it to. But here, now, she takes the chance anyway, because she knows she'll always regret it if she doesn't. ]

[ Bruce screws his eyes shut when she kisses him again, struggling between wanting to give in and forcing himself to stay calm and his heart slow. It's not the kiss so much as what it means, and what she says next, even though feeling her warm lips on his is enough to make him feel like he's floating up into the atmosphere.

His fingers curl a little when she threads their hands together, his free hand lifting up to touch her cheek, brush a strand of hair behind her ear. He doesn't even know what to say— he desperately wants to say yes, yes, she can have him, but at the same time his fear is still the endless pit that almost swallows him whole.

He leans in and kisses her instead, mouth parting a little, his hand cupping her jaw as he slowly (and awkwardly) moves to stand up, urging her to do the same. The food is pretty much forgotten by now anyway, so it's not like it makes much sense for them to just sit there. ]

[ She rises with him, understanding that unspoken gesture as she leans into his touch -- she knows the things he worries about, the fears that she knows he doesn't give a name to, how it all ties back to the monster that he becomes when he loses control.

But she has come to love that side of him too -- or at least, has come not to fear him all as much; and she wonders if the other's subtly gentler attitude to her stems from Bruce's feelings. But there's plenty of time to dwell on that later; right now, he's not saying no, and when she breaks the kiss to take a breath, pale cheeks lightly flushed, she tightens her hold on his hand, silently leading him to her bedroom.

They'll have dinner again later. Right now, she wants to make up for lost time. ]

[ Bruce follows her wordlessly, knowing very well where she's leading them and feeling his insides twist in nervous dread and anticipation. His hand tightens its hold on hers, and he wets his lips, clears his throat, swallows when he feels his throat dry up like the desert.

They're doing this. Well— more accurately, she's doing this. Right now Bruce doesn't even have enough presence of mind to do more than just follow along. ]

Natasha— [ He manages finally, once they reach the bedroom, his voice failing him and going into a higher pitch at the last syllable. Jesus Christ Banner, pull yourself together. Alright, clearing his throat and trying again, more eloquently this time. ] Are you sure about this?

You wouldn't be here if I wasn't.

[ Natasha looks him dead in the eye. She might not be as strong as his other self is, but she is no china doll, and she reminds him of this gently -- he's so careful with people, and it's sweet that he would be this considerate, but she's had enough of waiting, and Natasha's not going to let him slip through her fingers again.

She squeezes his hand before she lets go, and just to prove how sure she is, she sheds her jacket first, before pulling her tank top up over her head, discarding them to the side carelessly. Her fingers unclasp her bra at the front, before she shrugs it off, too, entirely nude from the waist up. She wants this, more than anything else she's ever wanted, dusky nipples peaking in the cool air of the room.

But she doesn't hide, putting herself on display for him as she raises her chin, warm challenge glimmering in her eyes. Despite the hell that's raining down all around them, this is what they share together, this is what's sacred, hidden away from the rest of the world. She'll handle whatever comes next. ] Are you planning to keep me waiting?

[ There probably should be something embarrassing in the way she undresses for him, but oddly enough, there isn't. There's the building arousal he's familiar with, some strange sense of comfort, and of all things, trust. Bruce still doesn't move, he doesn't say anything for a few good seconds, and it's only when she speaks up and he opens his mouth to answer that he notices his throat has gotten even drier.

He wets his lips thoughtlessly, gaze dropping out of habit more than shyness, but eventually he kicks himself into gear. He still feels almost like a toddler taking his first steps, but he manages to walk up to her without tripping all over his feet, so... he'll call that a win. ]

No, [ He smiles a little —and yes, that does carry a trace of shyness—, his hands sliding up her arms and stopping just shy of her shoulders. ] Not anymore.

[ Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to hers then, one hand lifting up to her face and cupping her jaw and cheek. Canting his head, he opens his mouth, giving into a rush of impulsiveness and pushing to deepen the kiss. ]

[ Natasha is many things, a liar and a killer the foremost of them -- but she is also human, a woman who has found herself drawn to the man before her; she can't help the flutter in her chest, because seducing a target is very different from exposing herself to someone she cares deeply for, someone she wants.

With Bruce, the game is different -- chief of all the fact that it's not a game, and he looks at her like she can be something of worth, someone better than she is. She molds against him almost immediately, her breasts pressed against the cloth of his shirt, and she leans into his hand with a soft exhale, because finally; finally she has him here together with her. Natasha knows better than to believe that it would be smooth-sailing, but she doesn't care as long as he doesn't stop kissing her.

Her mouth parts to grant the older man access, her hands coming to unbutton his shirt, to splay her palms over the soft fuzz of his chest, unable to keep the longing from her kiss as she meets him halfway, passionate and wanting. Her other hands slips from him after a moment, however, just to guide his free one over the swell of her ass. You know, just because she can. And because she wants to. She'd spent far too long thinking about what it would be like to be touched by him, to love him, and now that she has the chance, she's not giving it up. ] You can touch, you know. [ She nearly purrs between kisses, her words low and rich. ] Anywhere you want.

[ He knows very well she won't break easily. He's known her for long enough now, watched her both on and outside battlefields, and he's not so stupid as to think that Natasha is nothing if not incredibly tough. But she's still human and he is what he is, and... he cares. He's always cared. He knows by personal experience how horrible it is to hurt the ones he loves.

And he's scared, naturally. More scared than she is, and likely in a more reasonable amount. Probably. But he also does know that he's not quite ready to pull away now, not when he gets to be this close to her after so long of just watching, looking, longing.

Maybe there's some limit somewhere, he doesn't know. He'll figure it out when he gets there, right now he just wants to give into this. ]

I know, [ He practically sighs against her lips, eyes still closed, his other hand moving down to her waist, then up her side, thumb brushing over a hard nipple before he cups her breast. ] I'm planning on it.

[ His head tilts as he murmurs that, lips trailing along her jaw, kissing and nipping lightly at her neck. His hand on her ass squeezes once, then dips lower, fingers curling between her inner thighs and pressing against her. ]

[ She gasps, arching into his touch instinctively -- in all her musings she had never knew it could feel this good. Natasha has had her fair share of lovers, but none of them touched her the way he does, gentle but firm, like she's something worth cherishing. Her hands roam the expanse of his chest, his torso, marking him as her own as she explores.

She can feel his rapid heartbeat, and she instinctively understands it; it's nerves, and while Natasha isn't naive enough to believe that doing this with him isn't without its dangers, she has to believe that they can do this together, that they can work this out no matter what it takes.

Her other hand comes to curl at the nape of his neck, cradling him against her own body, watching him briefly play with her breast, feeling her nipples peak with growing arousal, her desire curling low in her stomach. She wants him, she's always wanted him, and her lips find his cheek, his earlobe, playfully tugging on it with her teeth.

She's already damp when his fingers find her tight, warm cunt, and she opens for him a little more, inviting, drawing him in because she wants him to -- how long has he been lonely? How long has it been since he had sought solace in another without fear? ] Mm. [ She grinds down on his fingers. ] Slip your fingers inside me.

[ Bruce has plenty of reason to be nervous, he thinks, and it's hard to shake it off. It's more than just his condition, it's also the fact that this is Natasha, that they're together here, that he hasn't touched anyone like this in over a decade. It probably wouldn't surprise her to know that, in fact he believes she's figured that out already, or at least has the vague notion that that's a very real possibility.

He lets out a stuttered sigh against her neck when she rolls her hips and presses against his hand, seeks out the touch that's far too ghostly and restrained right now. The fabric of her pants is a little hindering but it doesn't seem to stop him, his arm repositioning just enough that he can curl his hand more properly between her legs from behind, one finger sliding along the hem of her underwear and dipping lightly inside her.

Knowing that the rest of her clothes are just going to be in the way now, his other hand pinches her nipple one last time, then drops to her waistband, getting her trousers open and tugging them down eagerly enough that it almost passes as forceful. His own pants are starting to feel a little too tight but it's nothing he can't put up for a little longer, and his hand pulls out of her to slide between her legs from the front instead, managing a much better angle that allows him to push his fingers deeper into her. ]

God— [ He gasps, nearly moans. She feels wonderful, more so than he can put to words right now, and it's enough to make his head feel lighter than it should right now. ] We should... bed.

[ Or a table, couch, or... anything. Any surface at all that they can use while he keeps touching her, because doing this while standing up is bound to get frustrating really fast. ]

[ Her pulse flutters, races when he touches her that way -- and oh, how she's waited for this day. She's figured out his inexperience quickly enough, that it's been awhile since he's done this, and it fills her with an odd sense of possessive pleasure, that she would be the first woman he would do this with in awhile.

They have a long road ahead of them, to be sure; but they're taking the first steps forward together, and who really knows where this road will take them? She's careful with him, breath hitching at the way he pinches before she shimmies out of her own pants, kicking it away and huffing softly with pleasure when he slips his fingers into her properly. She's warm and wet, her yearning for him undeniable as she deftly unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his trousers, pushing it and his underwear down off his hips.

He's too clothed for her liking now, and she kisses him hard at those words, before slowly guiding him to her bed, making sure that his fingers don't stray from where they belong, snug inside of her. It's a tight fit, and she coaxes him onto the bed with her as her mouth finds the pulse at his throat, kissing and nipping playfully, wanting to make this good for him.

Her fingers find his cock easily, reaching between his legs to palm him, feeling the velvet-warm thickness, his heavy balls. Natasha can't help a tingle in her spine -- see, sex with others never really mattered; but this, this one is new, special, this one is with someone she has come to care very much about. ]

Tell me what you like. [ Or even better, show her. ]

[ A lot of things are happening all at once, and for Bruce it takes a while to catch on. It's not like this is new for him, but it has been long enough that it might as well be, and though he knows he can trust Natasha and expect her support, there's definitely an urgency to her motions that makes him feel like they're going at a million miles per hour, a dizzying speed.

But he still doesn't stop, he still doesn't want to hit the breaks. With her pants out of the way, he tugs his own down when she unbuckles them, kicking them off to the side and out of the way too. Makes things a little easier like this, and he sighs in relief when his erection's freed from the confines of his trousers.

He's easily guided onto the bed, crawling onto his knees on top of the mattress, waiting for her to do the same, fingers still buried inside her. She feels warm and so tight and blood pulses heavily through his veins at the thought, pooling at his groin, making his cock throb. His mouth hangs open when she reaches down to cup him, a quiet gasp spilled onto the small space between them, his free hand sliding down her arm and guiding her fingers to wrap around his girth. ]

Slowly, [ It's more a request than anything else. He loves this, and god knows how long he's wanted it, but he needs a moment to catch up, a moment to breathe calmly and gather some of his wits. He needs focus and he has to stay in control if he wants this to not end in disaster.

His fingers start moving calmly too, pulling out of her then sliding back in, picking up a slow pace as he relishes in the warm wet feeling of her cunt. ] You feel good, [ He kisses her lips lightly, then trails down her neck and along her collarbone. ] Tell me what you like too.

I like you. [ She drawls playfully, a glint of mischief in her eyes -- because even when she's tightening around his fingers hungrily, she won't miss a chance to tease. She is aware of what Bruce wants to keep from surfacing; and she's very aware that even the most experienced person probably wouldn't be able to come out of an encounter with the Hulk unscathed.

Especially... well, this.

So she does what she can, appreciating the way he fills out in her palm, stiffening and growing. She lets him guide her, finding an intimate eroticism in having a partner tell you just what they like; and their reactions to having it done right. She's drawn to the look on his face, how he is when he's pleasured this way, and she starts to stroke him delicately, thumb rubbing over the ridges on the underside, appreciating every inch of him.

Natasha doesn't take this quickly -- they're exploring each other's bodies, a carnal, sensuous experience all in itself, and she exhales as she tips her head back to give him access, her free hand easing his thumb towards the bud of her clit, guiding him to rub little circles over it. ]

Here, [ She breathes, her legs coming to wrap around his waist. She trusts him, no matter what it is -- even if it makes her just a touch nervous. He wouldn't hurt her, not even in his other state. And the pleasure his calloused thumb gives her sensitive clit, well, that helps one hell of a lot. It's oddly, wonderfully sexy to be the subject of Bruce's focus, and she nuzzles him softly, sweetly. ] I wondered what it felt like to have you eat me out.

[ That actually draws a small smile out of him, shier than this situation calls for. Of course she likes him, he knows that, but he does welcome hearing it anyway, even if it has his heart fluttering in his chest like this is the first time he's been told this. Like this is the first time she's told him this, even— though this is a vastly different situation from that time in Sokovia.

His eyes close when she starts stroking him slowly, each gentle slide of her fingers along his cock feeling almost too intense to bear. He doesn't ask her to stop, obviously, his hips shifting in response to the touches, and his thumb flipping up when she guides him, tentatively brushing over her clit in a testing touch, then another, pad pressing lightly against the sensitive knot of nerves as he draws a circle over it with each thrust of his fingers into her.

Lips trail farther down her front, finding one of her breasts, lips brushing over her nipple before he laps over it, then sucks briefly. His free hand cups the flesh, lifting it up just to make it easier for his mouth to keep lavishing the tip with kisses and nibbles, but he does slow to a halt when she speaks again, head tipping up so he can look at her, gaze dark.

Of all the things she could ask, honestly? That's... probably one of the best. He feels his whole body light up with arousal at the mere thought of having his head between her legs, and it's only a moment before he's reacting accordingly. ]

Let's satisfy that curiosity of yours, then. [ He tugs her hand away from his cock for now, then promptly rolls her onto her back, fingers pulling out of her momentarily as his mouth trails farther down her front. A hand teases at one of her breasts while he kisses his way across her stomach, mouthing her hipbone, following the line leading down to her groin, breath ghosting her hairs there. ]

today was arts and crafts. i guess being five again is supposed to make people sane or some shit

anyway, stole the markers, gonna redecorate my walls. pick a color.

Edited 2016-08-21 05:50 (UTC)

How's being five again treating you?

Peach could be nice. Sets off the blue in your eyes.

like im a grown as man doing kindergarten activities without even babysitting as an excuse

peach? ive got lightish orange, so that'll have to do.

[ after a moment or two, she'll be getting a picture sent to her as well: light orange writing on the white wall next to his bed that reads "peaches aren't even peach colored, ever notice that?" ]

[ STOP BEING SO CUTE

WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE

she's smiling when she responds. ]

maybe they named that color peach just to mess with us

do you think the color came first, or the fruit?

[ look, here's a picture ]

[ do not ask the impossible ]

had to be the fruit, because peaches existed before english did. bam. history fact.

i want that monkey. where are you today?

[ sent with a rough wall-drawing of a light orange colored monkey. well, what was supposed to be a monkey. he was never meant to be an artist. ]

[ it's adorable that he's a walking encyclopedia, there's always plenty of fascinating things to learn about. ]

oh, I like it when you're all knowledgeable.

you've got a cute little monkey right there on your wall. it's a monkey, right? Just cleared customs. Should I come see you?

[ he does a lot of reading, mostly of nonfiction crap, okay, it's his one skill. other than killing people. and babysitting. ]

only about really specific things. you know i never finished high school?

you'd call that cute? i'd go with deformed, but whatever. beauty, eye of the whoever, etc. but yeah, sure, if you want. not like i got any plans ever.

do you want to do that? [ other people ask why; natasha doesn't. it'll come out soon enough. ]

what, have plans? might be nice once in a while. [ he gets that's probably not what she means, has an idea of what she does, but he can't help being a little awkward about it. ]

do you want to finish high school?

[ SHE KNOWS YOU'RE AVOIDING, BABE. also not taking that avoidance for an answer. ]

[ hurgh. the thought's occurred, of course, since being out of hapsburg and having somewhat of a possibility of it, even if it were just private tutoring inside the psych ward. there's still something in him that's apprehensive of it, and he can't really put his finger on why. ]

maybe. i'd have to review so much crap i don't remember. i was shit at math too.

I can teach you. Start from scratch.

[ And if this means spending more time with Andyr, well. That's a nice bonus, isn't it? The first and foremost thing being getting the man's life back on track, one little step at a time. ]

Little secret: no one's really that good at math ;)

give me a boost, a boost over heaven's gate.

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i'm sorry this is so late!

it's no problem ♥

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