![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( general ) ➟ open memes / psls
█ SILVER EYES / REACHING FOR PARADISE / I'VE SEEN IT A MILLION TIMES █
( shipping preferences )
█ SILVER EYES / REACHING FOR PARADISE / I'VE SEEN IT A MILLION TIMES █
( shipping preferences )
[A serum to revive a fallen Avenger, he later hears. There's plenty of irony that comes from that, but then so were the circumstances that had made him fall in the first place. He had grown to hate them, despise them really, refusing to accept that a band of supposed heroes led by Stark himself could mean to do any good. And yet, it took almost no thought at all, nothing but a beat of making the decision before he stood to become a shield for one of those same Avengers he swore to get rid of.
S.H.I.E.L.D. — he wonders if the metaphor of his actions is why they brought him here, a sort of play at having a sense of humor. Not that he even knows where he is when he first wakes up. His first panicked thoughts are where is my sister, darting himself up on the bed, glancing around in confusion when he realizes he's possibly far from the battlefield of Sokovia.
Trying to collect his thoughts before he goes on the fritz, he looks down towards his hand to move it, waiting a beat before he sees the faint blur of his shake. Good, his powers remain in tact. It's the first reassurance he needs before he's pulling off the wires and cords from his body. Standing up in a white gown (do they put me in this paper dress to laugh?), he only takes a moment to breathe before he rushes fast through the rooms.
That's when he learns where he is, though there isn't an answer as to why or how he's there. He remembers the clanking metal, the bullets darting through his back, and even the faint echo of his sister's scream. He had died; he knows it, because he prepared himself for it in that quick beat of a second before he rushed to stand over Clint Barton and the young boy. So how could he be here now? Why would he? The answers won't come even from snooping around. He'll find an exit when he can (he's confident he's fast enough to escape whatever they try to throw at him if they attempt to keep him there; he's held his own against Captain America more than once before), but for now, he needs to at least see if someone can tell him where his sister is since a quick tour showed she hadn't been here.
So he darts in the closest room he can find where a woman with bangs happens to be, spinning her swiftly to divert her attention from her computer and towards the center of the room where he shifts from his blur into a solid figure before her. Still in his gown, he holds up his hands, palms out.]
You wouldn't happen to know where I can find my clothes, would you?
S.H.I.E.L.D. — he wonders if the metaphor of his actions is why they brought him here, a sort of play at having a sense of humor. Not that he even knows where he is when he first wakes up. His first panicked thoughts are where is my sister, darting himself up on the bed, glancing around in confusion when he realizes he's possibly far from the battlefield of Sokovia.
Trying to collect his thoughts before he goes on the fritz, he looks down towards his hand to move it, waiting a beat before he sees the faint blur of his shake. Good, his powers remain in tact. It's the first reassurance he needs before he's pulling off the wires and cords from his body. Standing up in a white gown (do they put me in this paper dress to laugh?), he only takes a moment to breathe before he rushes fast through the rooms.
That's when he learns where he is, though there isn't an answer as to why or how he's there. He remembers the clanking metal, the bullets darting through his back, and even the faint echo of his sister's scream. He had died; he knows it, because he prepared himself for it in that quick beat of a second before he rushed to stand over Clint Barton and the young boy. So how could he be here now? Why would he? The answers won't come even from snooping around. He'll find an exit when he can (he's confident he's fast enough to escape whatever they try to throw at him if they attempt to keep him there; he's held his own against Captain America more than once before), but for now, he needs to at least see if someone can tell him where his sister is since a quick tour showed she hadn't been here.
So he darts in the closest room he can find where a woman with bangs happens to be, spinning her swiftly to divert her attention from her computer and towards the center of the room where he shifts from his blur into a solid figure before her. Still in his gown, he holds up his hands, palms out.]
You wouldn't happen to know where I can find my clothes, would you?
Edited 2015-05-11 15:09 (UTC)
[There's a double commotion on the new HQ today, because among the Inhumans that have taken refuge here in the wake of the needless war her mother started, brought here by Skye (who just wants to make things right, for someone), there's also their other classified guest. Skye might not get the whole report from Coulson about him, though he's pretty much implied she's in charge of protecting the base for now, but she knows it's one of the Avengers.
And if they're here, it means they're reusing the Guesthouse. And if the GH325 is being used again, that means Fury still has a say. Of course he does, he had Coulson build him an invisible helicarrier and had it deployed and staffed for Sokovia. So, of course Fury's still noseing in. Retired, her ass.
It's with some bitterness that she accepts this reality they're living in, where not even the Director is in command, where nobody knows where they stand anymore. She stands on the side of her people, of the different and scared, of those who don't deserve persecution.
She also stands on the other line of a secure conversation with Natasha Romanoff, informing her of the progress on the Houseguest (as they're calling him), so she can pass the information on. Not, she expects, that it'll be needed; his sister will feel it, like she felt it when the bullets turned him into swiss cheese.
It's a serious conversation, really. And when the draft comes into her office, she turns quickly to see who's looking for her only to find nothing. He startles her, being in front of her desk instead, but what startles her more is the fact that the hospital dress opens in the back. And she knows this because the wall behind him is made of opaque glass, which is definitely reflecting the image.
And she just texted Agent Romanoff butt. Just that word.]
Did you try the room you woke up in? [Or did you just rushed out with everything dangling?]
And if they're here, it means they're reusing the Guesthouse. And if the GH325 is being used again, that means Fury still has a say. Of course he does, he had Coulson build him an invisible helicarrier and had it deployed and staffed for Sokovia. So, of course Fury's still noseing in. Retired, her ass.
It's with some bitterness that she accepts this reality they're living in, where not even the Director is in command, where nobody knows where they stand anymore. She stands on the side of her people, of the different and scared, of those who don't deserve persecution.
She also stands on the other line of a secure conversation with Natasha Romanoff, informing her of the progress on the Houseguest (as they're calling him), so she can pass the information on. Not, she expects, that it'll be needed; his sister will feel it, like she felt it when the bullets turned him into swiss cheese.
It's a serious conversation, really. And when the draft comes into her office, she turns quickly to see who's looking for her only to find nothing. He startles her, being in front of her desk instead, but what startles her more is the fact that the hospital dress opens in the back. And she knows this because the wall behind him is made of opaque glass, which is definitely reflecting the image.
And she just texted Agent Romanoff butt. Just that word.]
Did you try the room you woke up in? [Or did you just rushed out with everything dangling?]
[Definitely rushed out with a dangling party. He doesn't quite notice the reflection behind him, but even if he were aware, he's never been quite too shy with exposure. He hasn't searched the first room, but he hasn't exactly been looking for them in the first place. Despite his question, the clothes are the furthest thing from his mind and since she's not displaying a freak out or making attempts to attack him, he can attend to more important inquiries.]
Where is my sister?
[There's no evidence that she'd even know who he's talking about, but he doesn't give much further details than that. Wanda usually handles discussing the details better than he does in conversations.]
Where is my sister?
[There's no evidence that she'd even know who he's talking about, but he doesn't give much further details than that. Wanda usually handles discussing the details better than he does in conversations.]
[Don't look at his butt.] Er. [She looks down. Romanoff answered. butt? Frick. Okay - she terminates that conversation fast, and confirms mission success, spread the jolly news, and closes her laptop. Before answering him.]
Somewhere in the New York state right now, that we know. [She offers him a little smile and looks purposefully at his face. Butts are cute and all, but it's not her first ever come on.]
Hi. I'm Skye. Welcome to SHIELD. I'm supposed to greet you all formal and serious-like, but nobody likes to see a stern face after they come back from almost certain permanent death. [She pokes a thumb at her chest, rolls her eyes,] I'd know.
[A handwave, quickly.] Anyway, the point is - are you hungry?
Somewhere in the New York state right now, that we know. [She offers him a little smile and looks purposefully at his face. Butts are cute and all, but it's not her first ever come on.]
Hi. I'm Skye. Welcome to SHIELD. I'm supposed to greet you all formal and serious-like, but nobody likes to see a stern face after they come back from almost certain permanent death. [She pokes a thumb at her chest, rolls her eyes,] I'd know.
[A handwave, quickly.] Anyway, the point is - are you hungry?
[ It's a party at the Tower. Stark is around, of course, and demure pleasantries have been exchanged already so the three of them have no need to cross paths again for the rest of the night what with the basic niceties observed. They are a team and Tony isn't the monster they imagined him to be, although Wanda in unnerved by him at times and Tony seems to pick up on this in a surprisingly tactful way. He's observant, if nothing else can be said for him. All the Avengers are there with the VIPs, mingling and schmoozing, and even when the party dwindles down to just the superheroes there's still a merry levity in the air. Wanda may not be overstruck on Stark but people here trust one another. The twins have a home with this strangely extended, adopted family of misfits.
She may have also had a few too many martinis when the pool table draws the focus of a handful of players (who aren't slouching in blankets like glamorous bedbugs on the expensive sofa, picking at cold finger-food) and huffs when long brown hair falls in her eyes. It's everywhere, spilling onto the green felt when she leans down, and practicality born of necessity wins out as her patience dwindles.
She wriggles out of her panties, just as red as her dress, and to the astonished coos of Stark ("um, what, okay then"), Steve ("Yikes"), Clint ("Wanda, my eyes") and
Blushing with confidence and alcohol, Wanda seeks the sanctuary of her brother and her high-heels click-clack as she walks over, leaning back against his chest without pause, knowing he'll be there. ]
You see? We can still win this.
[ Ignoring the complaints from Tony, she grins up at her brother. ]
Edited 2015-05-16 21:23 (UTC)
[It's been a slow process but the twins have certainly settled in well with the rest of the team. Stark is still an entirely separate case, but it's not as though that's enough to keep Pietro from enjoying himself with the sort of parties he's normally not too accustomed to. He drinks entirely for the fun of it; alcohol does nothing to him, not when his metabolism washes it away quickly, but it does do things to Wanda, whom he does need to keep a watchful eye over when her confidence in their present company seems to skyrocket.
He loves seeing red on her, the boldness of it always capturing his eyes, watchful of how it highlights every curve, every smooth line. When the lace slides easily down her thighs, his grip on the railing tightens, a plentiful reaction to the bright material vanishing from her legs. Eyes shift protectively over the rest of the group just in case; team or not, he was still a brother first.
He's already slipping on a smirk by the time she's making her way back over and when she settles up against him, a hand slides to the small of her back, hidden from view from the rest, where it traces a finger up and down her spine, always slipping low at her waist.
When he speaks, it's low, certainly impressed in his tone.] And where have you learned that kind of strategy?
He loves seeing red on her, the boldness of it always capturing his eyes, watchful of how it highlights every curve, every smooth line. When the lace slides easily down her thighs, his grip on the railing tightens, a plentiful reaction to the bright material vanishing from her legs. Eyes shift protectively over the rest of the group just in case; team or not, he was still a brother first.
He's already slipping on a smirk by the time she's making her way back over and when she settles up against him, a hand slides to the small of her back, hidden from view from the rest, where it traces a finger up and down her spine, always slipping low at her waist.
When he speaks, it's low, certainly impressed in his tone.] And where have you learned that kind of strategy?
Edited 2015-05-18 22:39 (UTC)
[ He's warm and tall and her own personal monolith, like sun-baked stone against her shoulders. The fingertip trailing down her spine sends a shiver through Wanda from head to toe and the way her thighs press together might have a little to do with his tone. ]
Are you jealous that I might have learned it with someone else?
[ Her hips bump back against his, playfully in the eyes of anyone else; lingering a moment or two longer than she should, otherwise. ]
Are you jealous that I might have learned it with someone else?
[ Her hips bump back against his, playfully in the eyes of anyone else; lingering a moment or two longer than she should, otherwise. ]
[It's unfair when she bumps in so close, well aware of her teasing tactics. It's from being in public company that he keeps his attention drawn towards the pool table, though he does tilt his head low to whisper close to her ear with a hint of amusement.]
Do I seem like the jealous kind, sister?
[Very much so, since he's provided plenty of evidence of it in the past (if he's not looking at Wanda, he's looking at Vision to somehow make sure the artificial attraction settings don't go off around the short red dress). But for now, he returns the playful banter.
It's when Barton and Stark bicker over a seemingly cheated move, keeping the rest of the group distracted, that Pietro takes advantage to slide his hand even lower, casually passing over the curve of her ass to grant a caress on a bare thigh.]
Do I seem like the jealous kind, sister?
[Very much so, since he's provided plenty of evidence of it in the past (if he's not looking at Wanda, he's looking at Vision to somehow make sure the artificial attraction settings don't go off around the short red dress). But for now, he returns the playful banter.
It's when Barton and Stark bicker over a seemingly cheated move, keeping the rest of the group distracted, that Pietro takes advantage to slide his hand even lower, casually passing over the curve of her ass to grant a caress on a bare thigh.]
Never, I'm sure. Silly me.
[ Yes. Jealous enough that she snorts and lets a shrug lift her dress a couple of inches when his hands slides lower, the heat of her skin a rising force the longer they remain in contact. She turns around and gives him what passes for a loving sisterly hug, but the squishing is most definitely calculated to hide the flicker of a tongue over his throat, laving over rough bristles. ]
What a big brave brother I have! [ And maybe Vision does glance over, because Wanda's dress is a little higher with her arms around Pietro's neck and her hair has a very lacy tie that ought to be elsewhere. ] I'm so proud of you, Slowpoke.
[ Yes. Jealous enough that she snorts and lets a shrug lift her dress a couple of inches when his hands slides lower, the heat of her skin a rising force the longer they remain in contact. She turns around and gives him what passes for a loving sisterly hug, but the squishing is most definitely calculated to hide the flicker of a tongue over his throat, laving over rough bristles. ]
What a big brave brother I have! [ And maybe Vision does glance over, because Wanda's dress is a little higher with her arms around Pietro's neck and her hair has a very lacy tie that ought to be elsewhere. ] I'm so proud of you, Slowpoke.
[Vision can stare all he wants; Pietro's hands aren't going anywhere. His attention draws on his sister, a quiet laughter hiding in her hair when he feels that secret hint of a tongue at his throat. It might be a simple casual return of a hug when he wraps an arm around her waist, but there's a hand at the nape of her neck, palm warming her skin with a press. Mere sibling affection, of course.]
And what a troublesome sister I have! Do I need to keep closer tabs on you to keep you from misbehaving?
[Indicating her scandalous displays, evident in how he fingers at tied lace, though more curious to play with it than anything.]
And what a troublesome sister I have! Do I need to keep closer tabs on you to keep you from misbehaving?
[Indicating her scandalous displays, evident in how he fingers at tied lace, though more curious to play with it than anything.]
I don't mean to be so bad! Pietro, Pietro-ooo ...!
[ Whining in her tipsy haze, she's more than glad that (while enhanced) her magic allows her to pick and choose when to let her feel the effects of alcohol. If she wanted to wish herself sober, her system would right itself, but this is far more fun, the warm fuzziness and her nose pressing against his chin as Wanda sways in his arms. Her pout is innocent, but the imagery she plants in Pietro's head most certainly isn't.
Red lacy panties tying her wrists to a headboard as he fucks her from behind and trails his panting mouth over her back, strong hands kneading her ass with every eager thrust that she meets with a breathless squirm, scarlet dress hiked up high and breasts spilling over the neckline ... all heat and tightness stroking along his cock and neither of them attempting to rush the union. 'Brother, yes! Pietro, Pietro ...'
Grinning secretively, she looks all too pleased with herself. Her hips bump lightly into his. ]
Piii-etrooo.
[ Whining in her tipsy haze, she's more than glad that (while enhanced) her magic allows her to pick and choose when to let her feel the effects of alcohol. If she wanted to wish herself sober, her system would right itself, but this is far more fun, the warm fuzziness and her nose pressing against his chin as Wanda sways in his arms. Her pout is innocent, but the imagery she plants in Pietro's head most certainly isn't.
Red lacy panties tying her wrists to a headboard as he fucks her from behind and trails his panting mouth over her back, strong hands kneading her ass with every eager thrust that she meets with a breathless squirm, scarlet dress hiked up high and breasts spilling over the neckline ... all heat and tightness stroking along his cock and neither of them attempting to rush the union. 'Brother, yes! Pietro, Pietro ...'
Grinning secretively, she looks all too pleased with herself. Her hips bump lightly into his. ]
Piii-etrooo.
[Pietro can be plenty fast, but no amount of speed can quite have the ability to escape Wanda's penetrating visions. Not that he wants to, her fantasies providing him with plenty of informative ideas on what he can offer her or simply acting as enough of a catalyst to get a hard line forming in his pants.
Pulling her in, he lets her feel that, the material of a skirt being too thin to keep them separated.] If you're gonna keep acting like a child, I might need to send you to bed early.
[Which wouldn't be much of a punishment to either of them. But he bends down, lips brushing softly against her ear as he whispers low and quietly:]
Or you can cast a veil over everyone in this room. Distract them while I toss you fast against that pool table so my lips can slide between your thighs and taste you, so open as you are now. Let you ride my tongue as you feel nothing but me and the soft green against your back, trying to make sure your cries aren't heard through the spell. I could make it fast, but you wouldn't want that, would you? You'd want every wet stroke to last, wouldn't you, sister?
Pulling her in, he lets her feel that, the material of a skirt being too thin to keep them separated.] If you're gonna keep acting like a child, I might need to send you to bed early.
[Which wouldn't be much of a punishment to either of them. But he bends down, lips brushing softly against her ear as he whispers low and quietly:]
Or you can cast a veil over everyone in this room. Distract them while I toss you fast against that pool table so my lips can slide between your thighs and taste you, so open as you are now. Let you ride my tongue as you feel nothing but me and the soft green against your back, trying to make sure your cries aren't heard through the spell. I could make it fast, but you wouldn't want that, would you? You'd want every wet stroke to last, wouldn't you, sister?
[ She has to swallow as he tugs her in, supposedly the cuddle being very above board to any passing glances. The line of him pressing against her skirt and the gravel in his voice sets her hips to shifting, thighs tightly pressed together as a deep ache sets itself between them and she feels herself grow wetter by the second, nails scraping the silver curls at the nape of his neck.
Your bedroom. Now.
Vision would see, she knows it. His eyes aren't so easily fooled and his hearing ... ah, hopefully he hasn't been paying attention to them right now. Her cheeks burn with the possibility he has, though, and not in a bad way.
Quick images are flicked over to her brother as arousal spikes: Pietro with his mouth buried against Wanda as her skirt falls over his face, Pietro being ridden agonisingly slowly in their bed, Pietro barely thrusting at all and simply grinding them together as Wanda whimpers and begs. She nips his jaw.
I'm tired of the party. ]
Your bedroom. Now.
Vision would see, she knows it. His eyes aren't so easily fooled and his hearing ... ah, hopefully he hasn't been paying attention to them right now. Her cheeks burn with the possibility he has, though, and not in a bad way.
Quick images are flicked over to her brother as arousal spikes: Pietro with his mouth buried against Wanda as her skirt falls over his face, Pietro being ridden agonisingly slowly in their bed, Pietro barely thrusting at all and simply grinding them together as Wanda whimpers and begs. She nips his jaw.
I'm tired of the party. ]
[If Vision sees, if Vision hears, it's all the better. He doesn't care for the competition, knowing full well if there's anyone that can get his sister wet and begging, it's him, already the winner when her thighs are shifting against his and her visuals are only heightening the heat between their hips.
It's only for a second that he separates himself from her, shifting to the pool table where he grabs the stick and shoots for an easy winning shot. Perhaps the blur of fast blue lines might be noticed, but if it is, he doesn't leave enough time for anyone to say anything before he picks Wanda up in his arms and drags her through the halls and stairs to take them to his provided bedroom in the tower.
Their bedroom, more than anything, with how often he has her in it. But right now, it's merely a place of privacy to make those illusions in their heads a reality. Shutting the door behind them fast and setting her down on her feet, it's even quicker that his hands are trailing over her thighs, wrists brushing up the skirt to expose her bare hips, stroking the faint line of where the lace once pressed with strong, eager thumbs.
Heavy breaths filled with arousal sigh over her lips as he teases brushing kisses there.] You sure you won't miss everyone?
It's only for a second that he separates himself from her, shifting to the pool table where he grabs the stick and shoots for an easy winning shot. Perhaps the blur of fast blue lines might be noticed, but if it is, he doesn't leave enough time for anyone to say anything before he picks Wanda up in his arms and drags her through the halls and stairs to take them to his provided bedroom in the tower.
Their bedroom, more than anything, with how often he has her in it. But right now, it's merely a place of privacy to make those illusions in their heads a reality. Shutting the door behind them fast and setting her down on her feet, it's even quicker that his hands are trailing over her thighs, wrists brushing up the skirt to expose her bare hips, stroking the faint line of where the lace once pressed with strong, eager thumbs.
Heavy breaths filled with arousal sigh over her lips as he teases brushing kisses there.] You sure you won't miss everyone?
Edited 2015-05-19 01:39 (UTC)
[ Standing alone a moment after Pietro can't resist beating the others at pool, her laugh is an echo in the room as he scoops her up and rushes off to the beginnings of what sounds like complaints from the guys. When next the world stops blurring she wobbles in her heels and has to hold onto Pietro for balance, his caresses up her thighs sending cool air whisking up her skirt, a door clicking shut. The panties knotting her hair in place have loosened in the race to seek out a private sanctuary and brown locks tumble freely over a shoulder as she arches up against his touch.
His aren't the only laboured breaths, but she at least has the presence of mind to unfasten his trousers and shuck them down, long black-nailed fingers peeling his underwear the same way. The light kisses are a tease for both of them yet there's nothing shy about the way she drags his naked hips in to feel the wet heat he's responsible for, a gasp pouring over his jaw. ]
Other people exist?
[ If she feeds his ego, giggling, she doesn't even blame herself. ]
His aren't the only laboured breaths, but she at least has the presence of mind to unfasten his trousers and shuck them down, long black-nailed fingers peeling his underwear the same way. The light kisses are a tease for both of them yet there's nothing shy about the way she drags his naked hips in to feel the wet heat he's responsible for, a gasp pouring over his jaw. ]
Other people exist?
[ If she feeds his ego, giggling, she doesn't even blame herself. ]
[Corners of his lips rise with her comment, the simple question spoiling him in a way that she's well aware of. He could undress himself fast, her as well, if he really wanted to, but even his impatience can tolerate the regular pace when it's her fingers stripping him off, just enough to free up the part of him that's aching to feel her most. Pulled in closer, he groans against her mouth, nipping a soft lip as he lets the thin skirt fall over a stiff cock, already reeled in to stroke against her beneath the material.]
Do they? I did see a lot of pair of eyes watching you.
[He grips her tight by the rear, extended length brushed against her heat, and in an instant rush, he has her pushed against cold glass, the large wall of a window giving him a clear view of the city, flickering lights from neighboring buildings and the cars rushing past below. But he's looking at nothing but her, locking on to brown eyes as his hips shift and he's grinding to sample how wet she's become.]
Do they? I did see a lot of pair of eyes watching you.
[He grips her tight by the rear, extended length brushed against her heat, and in an instant rush, he has her pushed against cold glass, the large wall of a window giving him a clear view of the city, flickering lights from neighboring buildings and the cars rushing past below. But he's looking at nothing but her, locking on to brown eyes as his hips shift and he's grinding to sample how wet she's become.]
[ His groans are returned at a higher pitch as he rocks them together, her nails raking over his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Lashes fluttering, she leans in to nip him back but that's when the world blurs again and her perspective changes; brighter, the night-lights of New York illuminate his face and the mirrored glass behind them is all that stops her from protesting. Almost all, truthfully, because he feels too good to give up. ]
So instead of letting a few eyes see me, you would have me where all of them can? [ Breathless, she cries out and tips her head back as the drag of a cock passes over her clit, thighs weakening, hissing as a buxom chest heaves in the strappings of her dress. ] They are not my brother.
[ Tightening her grip in his hair for a moment as they move sleekly together, she arches a brow. ]
Besides, Maria Hill seems very enamoured of you. Shall I call her to heel?
So instead of letting a few eyes see me, you would have me where all of them can? [ Breathless, she cries out and tips her head back as the drag of a cock passes over her clit, thighs weakening, hissing as a buxom chest heaves in the strappings of her dress. ] They are not my brother.
[ Tightening her grip in his hair for a moment as they move sleekly together, she arches a brow. ]
Besides, Maria Hill seems very enamoured of you. Shall I call her to heel?
They don't see us. [Kissing her swiftly once more, he takes her by the hips to spin her in place, adjusting her to face the glass as his mouth continues to magnetize over her skin, leaning over against the curve of her neck, suckling kisses trailing against her collarbone.]
They are lost in their big American city, walking fast, spending all their dollars and paying attention to no one but themselves. They won't even look at us. It's you and me. As it always is.
[He crumbles the back of her dress up to rest his cock between her cheeks, rocking his hips to merely grind and keep their bodies close, flesh on flesh as the underside of his erection gets stroked against her skin. Warmth radiates and he lets the skirt fall once more as he dips his hand beneath, swerving in front to find that moist patch where his fingers keep her well soothed with caresses.
Wet fingers tease at her clit as he bucks.] I'm afraid Maria Hill has lost her chance. But perhaps I can direct her over to the Vision. He's plenty available.
They are lost in their big American city, walking fast, spending all their dollars and paying attention to no one but themselves. They won't even look at us. It's you and me. As it always is.
[He crumbles the back of her dress up to rest his cock between her cheeks, rocking his hips to merely grind and keep their bodies close, flesh on flesh as the underside of his erection gets stroked against her skin. Warmth radiates and he lets the skirt fall once more as he dips his hand beneath, swerving in front to find that moist patch where his fingers keep her well soothed with caresses.
Wet fingers tease at her clit as he bucks.] I'm afraid Maria Hill has lost her chance. But perhaps I can direct her over to the Vision. He's plenty available.
[ They don't see us, it's me and you. Smiling as she spreads her arms forward on the reinforced glass, she keeps her head turned enough to see his profile as Pietro pushes up solidly behind and ruts against a slick furrow, keeping her breathless and soaking his cock in sticky heat. She's a little higher than usual like this, the heels helping. Moaning softly, the glass fogs. ]
You don't want me to let him take me, to be where only you have touched me before? I never noticed. [ Wry as she sounds, she reaches back to sink her fingers in his hair and twist enough to steal a kiss, hips twitching between his erection and caresses. Bringing her thighs together to trap him, she arches back and moans low in her throat to feel him push through her legs, a rigid dick slipping through easily. ] Can he even get hard, do you think?
You don't want me to let him take me, to be where only you have touched me before? I never noticed. [ Wry as she sounds, she reaches back to sink her fingers in his hair and twist enough to steal a kiss, hips twitching between his erection and caresses. Bringing her thighs together to trap him, she arches back and moans low in her throat to feel him push through her legs, a rigid dick slipping through easily. ] Can he even get hard, do you think?
[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.]
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. ]
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.]
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. ]
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.]
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.]
Page 1 of 3