rzhavyy: (Got that swagger)

[personal profile] rzhavyy 2018-12-27 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
Really, the fact that she protests doesn't surprise him, puts a flash of a smile on his lips, a flash of teeth as he leans in to scrape them softly against the skin of her shoulder. He likes how she reacts to him, how she feels in his arms. He wants her, needs her, needs this. She'd never taken orders well, not even in the bedroom, always pushed back, and even as some part of him craves the control as a way to wrap himself back together, craves he body over him and under him, it's still a pleasant thing. He murmurs into her skin, nuzzles softly against her as he lifts her. He manhandles her a little, though his touches are affectionate, about his desire for her, not overly rough. Even as he's shifting so that he can pull her up onto her knees with him, hands pressing hers to the edge of the headboard.

"Afterwards, my little spider. I'll make it worth it, I promise. And you wouldn't want me to have to punish you," he teases, words whispered against her ear as he holds her. His larger frame draped against hers, his broader build that much more visceral as he all but wraps himself around her. An edge of something a little possessive in how he holds her, touches her. She's his and he needs her, needs to hold onto her, keep her. He likes this, the way it feels with his body over hers in part because it allows him to believe that no one can take her from him.

He wasn't actually entirely teasing about punishing her. Something that could only come from the Soldier, the man that had been her teacher, had been willing to take her over his knee in the bedroom once or twice. When she'd keep pushing him, until eventually he'd push back and make her pay for her insolence in ways that they both enjoyed. It wasn't that Bucky didn't remember those things, but he wasn't that man anymore. And the idea of it was a little scary. He fought so hard for control, to be able to be good that giving in like this was a hard thing for him to manage without the impetus, without the way that the two halves of himself were closer than they usually were.

He touched her so sweetly in part because he couldn't help how touching her was almost like worship. But also because he didn't trust himself to let go, to unleash some of those impulses.
rzhavyy: (I don't remember)

[personal profile] rzhavyy 2018-12-30 07:38 am (UTC)(link)
Her hands grabbed against the rail of the headboard, and it drew a low murmur on his lips, his hands shifting to slide against her arms, down her body to rest on her hips as he still leaned forward against her. He had her where he wanted her, and for a moment, he just allowed himself to breathe in and savor the moment, even if his eyes still paid attention to her hands, not entirely believing that she wouldn't try to pull them away just because she could.

Her body arching back against him and his breath catches at the way that she shifts her hips back against him, dragging that slick wetness against him, pressing against the erection ill-hidden in his briefs. There's a low growl at the feeling of it, his fingers twitching against her, holding too-tight for a moment. His desire flaring, part of him wanting to just push the fabric down and feel her around him, but he wants so much more. And he wants to make her writhe.

It feels like so long since he's heard her beg like that, and it makes his insides twist with heat, want, need. There's something to the tone, the cadence of her voice, wanton and all irresistible sexuality and it went straight through him. He'd do anything for her if she asked him like that.

There's a memory of words whispered in shadows and stolen moments, promising, offering, allowing him to take and know that it was something they both needed sometimes. It takes him a moment to catch his breath, but it doesn't stop his hands from running over her skin, soothing away the red fingerprints. He doesn't apologize, just leans in, bending so he can nip teeth at the skin, his hands tugging her hips back a little, spreading her legs.

He moves slightly off to the side, his breath low and rough as he looks at her. There's a pause- silence, stillness, like he might not actually follow through. And then his flesh hand comes down on the raised curves of her ass. Not gentle, but not meant to hurt, either. Enough to sting, to leave heat and pink skin in the wake of his fingertips, the sound loud in the small room. And then there's another.

She hadn't really done anything to earn it yet, but she'd asked for it and that's even better. The trust. There's a pause as he leans in, dragging cool metal fingers over where he'd spanked her, tracing the curves of her rear, both soothing and a promise of more.

"Count them for me, my sweet one." His eyes sharpen, a glint in those blue eyes as his eyes drag over her body, his fingertips just barely dipping between her thighs, wanting to feel the heat of her, just for a moment. His fingers pull away and there's almost a moan on his breath, just from how much she affects him. "How many do you think you deserve?"
rzhavyy: (Empty Eyes)

[personal profile] rzhavyy 2019-01-16 11:46 am (UTC)(link)
Bucky's not thinking about the nightmare, even if it's not quite just him in his head right now, if there's the edge of the Soldier in how he moves, how he pushes her. James is softer, so much softer than this. Scared of himself, of this part of him, this side of him, where there's beauty, pleasure in the pain. It feels too close to the dark, and so he buries it.

She yelps and he grins, not vicious, but pleased. A low growl that's not a threat and instead is all heat and desire, taken in by her beauty, how she moves, the sounds that she makes. He needs her, wants her. Wants her in so many ways, and where James' focus would be on her pleasure, the Soldier was willing to be a little selfish, to take where he knew they'd both enjoy the result. Because even to the Soldier, he loved her.

She asks for two more, and he doesn't say anything, but dutifully doles out two more swats of his hand against her rear. Even in the dim light, his gaze is on her, that pale skin, and how it turns pink under the impact. He spreads it out, both so it's not too much in one place, and so that he gets as much coverage as possible. He wants her to feel it when he's inside of her, when his hips rock against her--

For a moment his hand comes down like he might give her a third, but instead his hand stops at the last second, instead shifting to reach up and curl tight in her hair as his metal fingers curl against her hip. He presses himself up against her, letting his cock press against the heat of her. He shakes with that slick heat, and he dips his head, teeth biting into her shoulder for a moment, moaning hot and heavy.

"Don't move. But I want you to tell me. Tell me what you need, my little spider." His voice is thick with his own desire, and his hips twitch, giving away the fact that he aches for it as much as she does. He wants to just sink inside of her, wants her to feel it as he sinks into her, his hips presses to the heat of her pink skin.

But oh, he loves hearing her beg. Something about how wanton he can make her, and the knowledge of how that side of her is his and only his.

"All you gotta do is ask nice," he adds. His voice is all thick Brooklyn accent, a piece of something tripped in between the lines and broken edges when all he can do is focus on her, on how much he wants her, how he wants to feel her. She's more intoxicating than vodka, he thinks idly as his fingers tighten in her hair, firm but not cruel.
rzhavyy: (Lost to myself)

[personal profile] rzhavyy 2019-01-20 10:39 am (UTC)(link)
Her words make him shake a little, his fingers against her hip curling a little too tight, holding a little too rough with the feel of his desire. How much he wanted her, needed her, and how hard it hit him to hear her say those words, filthy and sultry and perfect, admitting that she was his. His good girl.

"Mine," is the answer he gives her, one word, growled low as he nuzzles against her spine, and there's no other warning when he sinks into her. He doesn't take his time, just gives it to her all at once, fierce and needy as he fills her with his cock, making her take all of it with a groan.

The messages in his head are all tangled, criss-crossed, and part of him feels like it's been so very, very long since he's hand her beneath him like this. And from a certain perspective he's not entirely wrong. "You're such a good girl, my little Natalia," he murmurs, teeth nipping against her shoulder as he tugs her head back, enjoying how it makes her back arch with him buried inside of her.

He doesn't stay still for long, his hips pulling back and then driving forward, rough and demanding. She's tight and slick around him and the way his hips rock into the skin of her rear, the skin warm from where he'd spanked her sends a certain thrill up his spine. He can't get enough of her, and his hand on her hip comes away to palm against her chest, cupping one of her breasts and pinching against her nipple as his hips drive his cock deep inside of her.

"I know you need this," he hums the words against her skin. "You're so good for me." His voice catches in a sharp gasp as he rocks into her again, his thrusts hard and fast, the sound of flesh striking flesh loud in the small space as he held her body against him, keeping her in place beneath him as he moves. She's beautiful, and she's his, and there's something to it that's a little darker than when James echoes similar words.

Not ownership, not the way the people that gave them orders had seen them, but possessive. Like he'd lose her if he let go. Like there were men in uniforms that could tear them apart, and it just makes him more desperate for her, for this. "Always mine."
rzhavyy: (Lost to myself)

[personal profile] rzhavyy 2019-02-04 10:24 am (UTC)(link)
All he could do was groan at the way that Natasha felt, her heat wrapping so tight around him that it made him shiver. It didn't stop the way that he moved, however, those rough, biting thrusts, the staccato rhythm of flesh on flesh as he drove his hips against her. It wasn't cruelty, he wasn't trying to hurt her, but the softness in how James even at his most desperate, his most needy touched her wasn't there.

His fingers wound in the red curls of her hair, tugging her head back and moaning low at the words she said, the way she sounded, caught up in that same current of need and desire. She opened her body to him, for him, and he took, sinking in deep over and over again, his breath coming hot and rough in the space between their bodies. His free hand palming over the swells of her breasts, the way that they fit in his hand, tugging against her nipples and then letting her rub them against her palm with a low throaty hum of almost-amusement.

He couldn't help the way he enjoyed her own desperation, the way it was a match for his own. That need, that darkness- the Soldier wanted to hold her and never let go. A subtle sort of possession, afraid of losing her, and even the part of him that was all ice and metal recognized just how important she was. Beautiful and perfect, even if at the moment his hands were rough, and his eyes were dark.

He holds her tight, too tight, close against him as he thrusts into her, low gasps at the feel of it, how her body grasps against him. He could feel her beginning to contract around him and he picked up the pace, those last few thrusts hard and deep, both of them sure to give out soon, and the soldier was selfish enough to push the edge of it.

Moments until his stamina gives out, and the way her body squeezes against him tips him over into his orgasm with a growl, his teeth finding that join of her neck and shoulder as he buries his face into her hair as his body slumps against hers.