turbos | ( general ) ➟ open memes / psls

[He groans in her kiss, the rocking stroke of her body testing the patience he's done well to keep together up until this point. Beads of precome drip as they move, dampening her thighs further, as though she weren't keeping the both of them wet enough already.]

If he saw you like this right now, I can bet something would activate.

[Even a robot would be mad not to get turned on by the arching beauty in red, locking him at his hair to keep his face close to her, prompting him to steal a kiss whenever he can. Gripping the skirt at her hip, the thin material shriveling up in a fist, he keeps a hold on her to shift between tight thighs, adjusting to press a thick cockhead against her heat, forcing himself through.]

Too bad he'll have to miss out. [Because Pietro is selfish, keeping the contents beneath her dress to himself.]

[ Her giggles burst into laughter when she hears that, muffled into kisses where she murmurs such things as I love you and You're so mean, noses rubbing and lips locking. All the affection settles her amusement when he hikes up the back of her dress and Wanda gasps, however, her breath a white cloud on the glass as she curves her back to take him him, moaning a little louder than usual thanks to the alcohol. He's hard and long, a rigid burn that pinions her in place and has Wanda's hands again planted flat on the window, holding herself up. ]

Pietro ...

[ If any of the Avengers heard her say her brother's name like that, they might not even recognise the voice as Wanda's. ]

[That soothing low whisper of his name is all he needs. The pleasant reminder that his sister loves him, that the extension of their duo into a larger group, a team hasn't made so much of an impact to separate them any further from one another. He digs his nose through her hair, brushing strands out of the way with the bridge of it to find the nape of her neck, kissing her there, sweet and chaste. It's a tenderness, one from a brother to his dear sister, contrasting with the passion of a lover that he portrays down below.

Fingernails scratch at the height of her hips, gripping her close as he pushes himself through from behind. She's plenty slick, a beautiful welcoming in how he slides easy, a hard cock pressing into familiar territory.]

Wandika. [He whispers against the skin behind her ear, sighing with relief. The city lights beyond are bright, sirens blaring loudly, but they hardly provide a distraction. His attention focuses solely on the warm body against him, his shirt rubbing at the back of her dress as he rocks his hips in a growing rhythm.]

[ Wanda, Wanda, Wandika ... As if her own name wasn't enough, his old tease suffuses a moment in breathless fondness and she smiles, reaching back to card her fingers through his loose hair. There's little else she can focus on besides the hard heat stroking her into a moaning mess, soft sighs steaming the window in a steady routine with each thrust as he finds his rhythm (their rhythm, since he knows what she likes so well and vice-versa) but she makes every effort to; the press of his hot firm thighs up behind hers, his sharp narrow hips against her ass, the gentle lips skimming that shivery little erogenous zone on her neck that he once found by accident and never forgot ... Wandika.

It's relatively quiet in the guest bedroom, only the distant echo of horns far below ever lifting from the constant hum of street-life. The bright, brilliant lights and beautiful view are almost a dream, a world away from dark shadows and crumbling hideouts they became accustomed to using since their orphaning at ten, and her gaze blurs as he arches in to make Wanda shudder, shoulders hunching and walls tightening around him. There, but she doesn't have to say it, he'll know. The fingertips in his hair whisk with scarlet magic and she links their minds so that Pietro can feel the results of his own thrusts another way, a loop of pleasure feeding back so that he knows what it would be like for her to have him in return, if she could.

Harder, more. Faster, Slowpoke. Letting out a half-laugh, half-cry, she bucks against him urgently to take the lead, hips rolling. He'll follow her anywhere, she knows, which will serve them well tonight. ]

[The primary light in the bedroom comes from the world outside, the flickering lights of a city that never sleeps seeping into their own private world located in the tower that watches over the rest of it. Even through half-lidded eyes, it's enough to reflect over the rocking body in front of him, the mess of dark locks tossled on a soft neck, dark painted nails grasping at unbreakable glass. Until there's that familiar glow, red to match her wrinkled dress — and he feels it, that extra burst of pleasure that comes with each throbbing thrust against her and he groans from the unexpected sensation.

A mocking laugh slips through his panting ('Slowpoke, ha!') and he moves to prove the rarity of his hips ever tiring. She pushes back against him and he rocks to meet her, deep and hard, the echo of slapping flesh almost lost with the orchestra of city noises.

He brings a hand up as the other keeps a hold on her hip, the strength of a thumb against the cheek of her ass increasing with every impacting thrust, and he tugs the neckline of her dress, letting it fall below a breast. Kneading a palm over it, he squeezes and holds her there to assist her as she moves, all while spoiling them both with even more touch and contact.]

[ She trusts him to hold her up, knows he will even as the scant, thin red fabric of her neckline is dragged lower and a warm hand caresses her, skin on skin sparking an enthused response that most women would crumble under. Not so Wanda, enhanced to endure like Pietro too. Jarred by the new pace, she tips her head back and bites a lip to bear with it until she can feel her muscles seizing up, so close, so close ... ]

Stop! [ Grasping the roots of his hair, Wanda cranes her head around to bite his lip, panting harshly. ] Turn. I want you in my arms.

[Lost in their movements, vision hazy from that he shuts his eyes just to feel her, the relentless stroking over his length from each thrust one mere sensation with the added fuel that comes with their connected feelings, her magic locking him in to amplify it all the more. He can feel her pleasure tip upward, tightened muscles leaving him sighing against her neck.

And then she cries out, the bite to his lip forcing his eyes to flutter open and regaining his focus. Brushing his nose against her cheek as he pants, he smiles. The hand at her breast falls to wrap around her stomach while he leans for a sweet, messy kiss to her lips.]

You needn't ask, sister. Let me look at you. [Pulling himself out reluctantly, everything still so slick and wet, he stands her to turn her in place. He's stronger now with his powers, no bit of difficulty in the way he lifts her at her hips to press her back against the glass, nudging her legs to wrap around his waist. Holding her up with no hint of ever letting her go, he kisses her deeply, all the more properly this time as their positions allow it, cock pressing back up into her heat to feel her again.]

Wandika, you're so beautiful. So beautiful ...

[ The kiss is a blur of warmth and love, his words a balm that keep her blushing as they rearrange and rejoin, her long fingers like claws through his hair on either side as moans melt into a single note of longing over cloying tongue, teeth scraping at the soft insides of lips. If he were anyone else she would think those words only pretty placations. Pietro means them, and no matter how tipsy Wanda is there's a rush of affection through their bodies and minds as she tells him without words, This is as it should be, always. No one else matters, not even the team.

And then the magic seeps away and it's just Pietro fucking Wanda hard against a New York window in the semi-darkness of firefly glimmers beyond. Later, she'll swear off gin forever, but when she comes around her brother it's with a wail and a shriek that doesn't care of the whole of America tunes in, squeezing around him and making the way wetter, tighter, as she ekes out his name in staccato fragments.

The pool cues might have just snapped back with the other Avengers. Oops. ]

[He can't imagine holding a different woman in his arms like this, he refuses to, and he's relieved that they've only been brought together closer since everything, since the riots, the experiments, the battles — everything happens around them but then it's just them like this, making love so passionately and pouring every depth of affection around one another.

If he isn't kissing her lips, he finds the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the curve of her jaw, also brushing contact even as they rock together and she shakes against him, panting moans overtaking everything they can hear. Up until she comes and she's loud against his ear as he holds her close, letting her continue to ride even as she tightens, the gesture practically begging him to follow as he moves all the more slickly within her.

And he does, tilting down for his low groans to get lost on her neck as his hips stutter frost and they press her hard against the glass, locking her there as he fills her up, hot and thick.]

[ Caught between a rock and a hard — ah, at the very least now, caught, she feels him pulsing inside and moans soften in his hair as he reclaims her from the world, aligning them back to where they depend on each other not just for this but everything. The sex would mean nothing if they couldn't make each other quiver inside and out, and it's times like these that Wanda thinks she can touch his soul, he's so close.

Sometimes she thinks that even if she had children, she would want them exactly in their image. Fast and magical, beautiful and strong — but that cannot be for a multitude of reasons and wishing has never gotten Wanda anywhere in ~~this~~ life. ]

Mmm ...

[ Still clinging to one another, Wanda kisses along his stubble and down to Pietro's lips, soft and slow and just as loving, eyelashes spiked with unfallen tears shuttering on her cheeks. ]

[He's learned to be so capable of fast speeds and yet, white hairs cling to his forehead, wet as sweat trickles over a brow. His heavy breaths are lost when they're cover by Wanda's wet lips, taking him back in with a tender brush, the touch that keeps them locked into this moment even as their bodies lose strength in the afterglow.

A soft hum into her mouth, he clings to her tight, still connected together below as he wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her away from the glass to carry her across the room. It's at a regular pace, giving rest to the fast speeds, and when his legs bump against the bed, he lays her down over it, following with her to continue pecking soft kisses.]

You alright, sister?

[ They drift back into their own heads and the coolness of the sheets on her bare legs is a comfort, horizontal on her back before really registering the way he moves (and not, for once, because of his speed). Painted eyelids are leaden, drooping as Wanda paws lazily at his hair, and the way she hums again catches low in her throat to vibrate all through her skewered dress. ]

Sleepy ... [ Lips part on a dreamy sigh, thighs shifting around his hips. ] I can feel your heart beating with mine.

They're one and the same, aren't they?

[He smiles against her lips, shifting to the side to peck her affectionately on her cheek, a more serene sweetness overtaking the passionate, desperate love-making just moments before. He rolls on his side, dragging her with him as he positions a thigh to rest over his hip, keeping her close as he strokes fingers through long strands of dark hair.]

Looks like I've ruined the party for you. [Though really, she was the one who begged for the bedroom. But, eh.] Go to sleep. I'll be right here.

( general ) ➟ open memes / psls

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