( the shame was always going to be a mixture: that he lasted so miserably short, and that therefore it hadn't lasted long enough to take karen with him. but the latter, at least, he can do something about.
it's slower, this, compared to the fast-paced brute-force slam of his hips into hers, but bucky is persistent. and when his thumb rolls over her clit a particular way and she reflexively arches into his hand, he has a pretty good feeling he's on the right track. )
Good. Like that,
( he murmurs against her ear, and he slides another finger into her, taking the place of where his cock had been, while he keeps working over that slick nub at the same time. like adding kindling, carefully cradling that fire with his hands: lighting another match, dropping it into the still-glowing embers. trying to rebuild what she'd been barreling towards, moments ago.
while his right hand works into her, after a moment's consideration he uses his metal hand to brush a lock of disheveled hair out of her face, bracketing her jaw, just to be touching her more, even if it's at a dull distance and a remove. when her head tips back against the cushion to allow him better access, he nips harder at her throat then laves it with his tongue, with suction; like they're handsy teenagers in a basement, and he's set on leaving his mark on her, hickeys left behind for days after. i was here, i was here.
and karen's body is stubborn, too, he's finding: any new woman is like learning a new instrument, and she's tense in a way that keeps her hanging before that edge, and makes him half-wonder if what she really needs is a good massage in addition to a good fuck. but bucky's working on it: he wants to take her apart, wants to find the right way to play her, the right combination of buttons to push to render her just as boneless and pleased as he was. so it's this: two fingers pumping inside her, his mouth against her throat, a metal finger rolling over her hard nipple again, and then that low burr of his voice in her ear: )
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it's slower, this, compared to the fast-paced brute-force slam of his hips into hers, but bucky is persistent. and when his thumb rolls over her clit a particular way and she reflexively arches into his hand, he has a pretty good feeling he's on the right track. )
Good. Like that,
( he murmurs against her ear, and he slides another finger into her, taking the place of where his cock had been, while he keeps working over that slick nub at the same time. like adding kindling, carefully cradling that fire with his hands: lighting another match, dropping it into the still-glowing embers. trying to rebuild what she'd been barreling towards, moments ago.
while his right hand works into her, after a moment's consideration he uses his metal hand to brush a lock of disheveled hair out of her face, bracketing her jaw, just to be touching her more, even if it's at a dull distance and a remove. when her head tips back against the cushion to allow him better access, he nips harder at her throat then laves it with his tongue, with suction; like they're handsy teenagers in a basement, and he's set on leaving his mark on her, hickeys left behind for days after. i was here, i was here.
and karen's body is stubborn, too, he's finding: any new woman is like learning a new instrument, and she's tense in a way that keeps her hanging before that edge, and makes him half-wonder if what she really needs is a good massage in addition to a good fuck. but bucky's working on it: he wants to take her apart, wants to find the right way to play her, the right combination of buttons to push to render her just as boneless and pleased as he was. so it's this: two fingers pumping inside her, his mouth against her throat, a metal finger rolling over her hard nipple again, and then that low burr of his voice in her ear: )
Tell me what feels good.