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Bob was exhausted. He thought that whatever serum Valentina had injected into him was supposed to get rid of fatigue, but he was feeling more sluggish than ever. It might have been the sleepless nights he'd been having, or it might be the aggressive jabs that Yelena kept up as they were training.
"If you want to be out in field, you cannot falter."
Between panted breaths, Bob dismissively said "I'm trying, I'm trying."
Yelena went for a gut punch, which Bob had taken in stride as he moved back a few steps. She did not let up - she followed with a legsweep and had Bob on his back. He let out a yelp as she turned him onto his stomach with ease and pinned his arms behind his back.
"You are much better than when we started. Good job," Yelena smiled at him.
Bob tried his best to take the compliment, but he was still feeling... poor about his performance. He had gone from fighting for about half a minute to a whole minute. Double the time, sure, but he still had a long way to go before being an asset to his team. Not to mention getting the Void and Sentry under control (with the help of Bucky's very experienced therapist).
Yelena helped him up after he tapped out. "I want to try something. You will break out of a hold."
Bob felt a rush of heat crawl around his face, but quickly forced it away. He gave her a nod as he took a fighting stance.
She quickly rounded him, getting him off balance and used his weight against him as she swung over him like a pendulum. Bob didn't have a chance to counter as she spun herself around him and locked the crook of her elbow into his throat as she wrapped her legs around his stomach. Hoping to use his size against her, he fell onto his back as hard as he could to throw her off. She kept clinging to him like a tick.
She flexed her biceps around his throat, squeezing his neck as he tried to pull her off of him. His voice hitched as he tried his hardest to pull her arms off of him - no dice.
Yelena was feeling confident now, Bob had no more counters. She could feel his body try to wriggle out of her grip, but he failed continuously.
"Ready to tap out?" A smug grew on her face. Bob had become more resistant to her jests and refused to surrender - that's what it looked like, anyway.
The muscles in his neck strained as he rolled over onto his stomach, and he prepared to right himself. He didn't feel like he was losing breath (a consequence of the serum?) but he knew that Yelena's chokehold was fierce.
Yelena shifted her body weight to one of Bob's sides hoping to once again throw him off course, with the added benefit of increasing pressure on his throat (which she felt was suspiciously ineffective, despite his squirming).
She stopped focusing on the physicality of the fight and more so to his face - he really was straining. She wasn't sure if it was the hold, but she didn't care because whatever the case he looked adorable. Something stirred inside her whenever he let out a noise of struggle.
Between panted breaths he squealed "Yel-ena", putting a grin on her face. She savored the rising heat coming from her stomach as he grunted in his attempts to dislodge her. Every time he let out a groan, it egged her on. ’More’, she thought.
One last jerk of his body was the final attempt Bob made to throw her off, and it failed spectacularly. Yelena had effectively tied her body to his by locking her feet against his stomach and squeezing his throat with her arm.
Almost all at once, Bob's efforts gave up. As if she really had just choked him to sleep. Sensing his muscles give in, she released the hold as his body gave an involuntary spasm. His face was flush red and his eyes were looking down, up, at the light, anywhere except her.
She feared that she might have gone too far and actually choked him into almost passing out.
"Bob, are you ok?" She asked worriedly. Yelena looked at his face, twisted and flustered as she placed her hand on his shoulder. His body froze at the contact and a pang of fear shot through her.
Her eyes scanned his body for damage. His throat, despite her vigorous attempts, lacked any bruises or markings that indicated injury. In all things, Bob looked fine. It took until she looked to the rest of him, making sure he wasn’t injured anywhere else, that she saw a splotch of liquid on his gym shorts as he turned away from her in shame.
She could feel that boiling, fiery heat come up from her stomach and claw its way out of her mouth and force her jaw open. With it came a stinging in the back of her throat, it was her fault that he was turned away and too shaken up to speak. She should have recognized those groans, and his comparably desperate attempts to shake her. She shouldn’t have let his noises pull her into wanting more - was she trying to squeeze those noises out of him?
Yelena stammered “I - Bob I did not mean to-”
Bob was turned away from her and he felt like he was about to cry. “I'm sorry, god, Yelena, I'm so so sorry.”
His mind raced with humiliating thoughts. Pervert. Creep. His body was shaking and he was flushed all over and he had to get out of that room before the feeling burned him alive and set everything on fire. He could feel the pull of the shadows in the corner of the gym. Before Yelena could get another word in, he had run out.
She sat there with a clawing fire in her chest and terrible shame scribbled on her face. She stared at the doorway as her mind battled the thoughts of want and guilt, thinking only of how Bob had shouted her name before he came.
Bob ran to the elevators as quickly as he could and pressed the number for his room. He silently prayed in the fluorescent-lit metal prison that carried him upwards that no one would catch him before he made it to his room and witnessed the shame on his face and his shorts. He thought he might actually start crying now, in the elevator, pathetic from having come just by being choked. In any situation, the first person he would run to would be Yelena. Right now that was the last person he wanted to see.
He sped past the grand-scale windows that tiled the Watchtower and slammed his door shut behind him. He set the shower to its hottest setting. Hot enough to ignore the growing nausea in his head and focus on the scalding heat of boiling water washing away his sin from his body. He chucked his soiled clothes onto the floor and stepped into the shower, pressing his hands against the tile wall and finally letting out the torrent of tears that had been building since the gym.
For the first time in a long time, Yelena was unsure what to do. Since the formation of the New Avengers(z), there was something fixed in her life. A tower. People she only partly got along with. Bob. She felt dirty for what she had done, making a mess of a man as he struggled in her grip, and she didn’t let go because she didn’t want to. It had been too appealing for her, and like Icarus, she was burned by the sun. Only it wasn’t just her.
Yelena wanted to apologize, but how would she? Go up to his room and say ‘I'm sorry for choking you so hard you came. I couldn’t stop myself?’ He would surely never speak to her again. They would exist together in the tower and completely avoid each other, but the growing heat in her stomach could not bare to live like that. If the looks they shared and every time he smiled were taken from her, she would have been robbed of her most prized possessions.
There were few situations she had been unprepared for. Decades of elite tactical training and years spent alone in her head had prepared her for a variety of situations she might have found herself in. Stealing classified documents from a foreign embassy? Easy. Assassinating a head of state inside of a moving vehicle? Doable. Apologizing to the most important man in her life because of what she did? There was no training, Red Room or otherwise, that could have prepared her for it. But Yelena was a woman of action. If she apologized and fucked it up, at least she could say she tried. Bob deserved at least that much.
So she pulled her eyes away from the door frame that she had been staring at for far too long and stood up with a glum expression. She trudged her lead-heavy feet through the room to the elevators and pressed the button that would take her to Bob.
She knocked on his door softly to no response. Pressing her ear up against the door, ignoring whatever sacred pact they had to respect each other's privacy, she could hear the shower running. Sensible, she thought. Of course it was Bob who wanted to be clean of this mess. Not like Yelena who had only prolonged the thoughts in her head. Her mind kept returning to his groans, and like a hoarder, she stored them in the back of her mind as they caused a rush of heat to flow through her. ’Not the time, Yelena.’
She stood in front of his door, her hands fidgeting as she waited for the tell-tale sign of water thunking (such shower pressure so many floors up was a feat of engineering) that indicated the finishing of a shower. After what felt like hours, Bob had left the shower and rustled around his room for clean clothes to wear as he collapsed onto his bed. The sound of bed springs giving was her sign to knock.
“Bob, can I come in?” She asked as she knocked. Normally she would be unafraid to walk in without asking for permission, but considering the events that took place earlier she didn’t want to step over any boundaries he might now set for her.
Her request was met with silence, and just as she was about to knock again, the door clicked open to reveal a disheveled, but clean, Robert Reynolds.
She froze as she looked into his eyes, which were once again looking at everything but her. It made her angry. She refocused her head. Of course he was looking away after what she did. He probably only opened the door out of courtesy. Before she could begin, he moved his head and locked eyes with her. He was being brave.
“Yelena, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have tapped out or told you to stop and I didn’t and I'm sorry,” He pleaded with her. She was struck by his words and paralyzed by his gaze. Why was he apologizing? How had she already let him beat her to the punch for something she did? “I don’t want things to be weird between us and I know I fucked that up. I… have a thing when I get choked. I should have stopped when you asked me if you could put me in a hold but I thought I could manage. I'm sorry-”
“Bob, Stop,” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Just shut up and listen. I'm sorry. Is my fault. I knew what was happening and I did not stop,” It was her turn to cry and she could feel her eyes welling up. Bob was similarly forced into a pause by her words. She stuffed the sobs inside herself. “Look, I don’t want you to pull away from me. I'm sorry. This is hard for me,” she said looking at her feet.
“Yelena I would never pull away from you,” He placed his hand atop hers, not taking it off of his shoulder, but just holding contact. Showing her that he was not going to run from her.
Her eyes moved up and met his, clear of tears, and feeling the warmth of his hand on hers. “I guess we’re both sorry?”
“Looks like it,” he smiled at her.
The chill air of the hallway made her neck tingle and she could suddenly feel how publicly they were doing this. She was standing where any passerby could hear them talk about a very private matter, something that belonged to her and Bob alone.
“Can… Can I come in?” She asked gently.
Bob gave her a gentle nod as she walked into his room and shut the door tight. She found a spot on his bed and sat down, feeling the weight of the day roll off her shoulders and onto the floor. She did not feel clean of her sins. There was still that claw of guilt needling through her skull.
“Bob. I'm sorry. I mean it. When you… moaned,” her voice went hushed at the word. “I - I liked it. I did not want to stop. I kept going even when you called my name. I think that made it worse.” The blush on her face was growing and she couldn’t keep looking at him if she was going to speak like this.
Bob, in turn, was more flustered than her. Sure, he’d always thought she was pretty. She was fun to talk to and set him stumbling more times than he can count. He thought she was perfect, and that he was so undeserving of this bright light that he orbited around like he would die without it. He thought he might actually die without her. To have her tell him, even in hushed tones, that she enjoyed his moans could very well threaten to get his motor running again. He thought back to the feeling of her legs wrapped around him, and the friction of her arm against his throat, and his breathing was caught on something invisible. A burning feeling of want. He had to break the silence or things were going to get weird again.
“Thanks?” Bob recoiled at his own statement. She lifted her eyebrow at him. “I mean-no I didn’t mean it like that,” Yelena was staring into his eyes and he was tripping over his own statement. Her lips curled upwards into a little smile.
“I meant that you liked… it? I'm an idiot, don't listen to me,” Bob gave up on trying to explain himself and hoped his plea to be ignored would be accepted and she would sweep whatever bullshit he said under the rug.
Yelena once again found her footing in the conversation. Bob’s natural shyness had revived the natural rhythm she could tap into whenever she was teasing him. She stepped closer to him as he went red once again.
“Bob, are you trying to rile me up?” She asked coyly, holding his chin with her hand. He was turning into putty in her grip. She held his face so that he had no option but to look at her and she was reveling in the attention. That feeling of heat came back and spread through her stomach, into her lungs, and her breath turned hot.
Poor Bob could only take so much teasing. Having an attractive woman flirt and touch him was one thing. He could handle when people were playing with him, he had lived on the streets for years. Having Yelena Belova play with him like he was dough was something else that he could not handle. Involuntarily, for the second time that day, he whimpered.
Yelena considered herself… not a stable woman, but at least one who was able to compartmentalize her thoughts and emotions. She would be checked on her assumptions the moment that Bob whimpered, setting that heat inside her into a blaze. She would push him to the bed and kiss him right then if she wasn’t already busy feeling angry at itself for wanting too much. Was she doing too much?
Yelena froze and withdrew her hand from his face. A chill returned to her hands, missing Bob’s warm body. “Bob… do you…”
“Yes. Always, yes,” Bob grabbed her retracted hand and held it. He had decided for himself that, whatever Yelena wanted from him, he would give. He would give everything he had, more if he could, every penny and every drop of blood if she demanded it. He was being brave again, being brave for her.
She began palming his chest, feeling the taught muscles underneath that had been exhausted from a day of training. She felt the knots in his shoulder and the coarse stubble of his face as she moved closer to him. She moved her fingers through his still wet hair, her fingernails scraping his scalp underneath as he leaned into her touch, letting out another guttural sound that was throwing her head into a spin.
“Yelena I-”
“Don't speak, Solnyshko,” she quieted him placing her hand against his mouth. She stood up on her toes, and trailed kisses down his jaw and onto his collarbone where his shirt hid the rest of his body from her. “This. off,” She demanded, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
Bob complied with a quick nod and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Yelena ran her hands over him, slack-jawed at what was happening. She had snuck looks at him before, leaving the shower or getting dressed, but this was the real thing. She drank the scene laid before her like a camel in an oasis.
Part of her felt guilty at how easily Bob melted to her touch, but when she thought about it, she was the one that gave in near him. It was he that melted her hard exterior in his basking rays. A dopey smile, or an oversized sweatshirt, and a real earnestness to him that had been missing from her for her entire life. He filled a hole in her heart that she had forgotten existed.
Carefully, gently, she got closer to Bob. She placed the palm of her hand on his sternum and slowly pushed him onto his bed as his back met the mattress. She climbed into the bed and placed her knee between his legs while leaning over him. Her hand slid down his body, past his waist, and over his crotch which was protected by plaid-patterned cotton pajama pants.
“Can I?” She asked tentatively.
“Please,” he let out desperately. The eagerness displayed only furthered her want, her desire, to mold Bob in her hands. Surely he could feel how hot her touch was, burning up her skin at every contact point. She hooked her fingers along his waistband and slowly, painfully slowly, pulled the last of his garments off.
Now this was something worth getting flustered over. Bob, naked and splayed out below her, while she lay pressed on top of his and caressing every inch of skin she could get her hands on. From his hips she moved her hands up and down his thighs, eventually trailing upwards to the base of his cock. When she gently squeezed, he let out a guttural moan that egged her to move faster.
But Yelena did not. She was going to savor him, taste him, and make him moan for as long as she could hold herself back. The urge was there, sure, but she was going to be gentle, and maybe a little mean.
She slowly moved her small hands upwards to the tip of his penis, and thumbed the top. For the third time that day, he whimpered. “Mmm… feels good, Sholnyshko?”
He craned into the spot between her neck and shoulder. “Mhm,” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer as the contact electrified his skin. She kissed the top of his head, ignoring the dampness of his hair and breathing in the lemon-scented shampoo he used.
She continued pumping, up and down, as she whispered a mix of Russian and English sweet nothings into his ears.
Under her palms she felt Bob’s cock twitch - and she was reminded of when she was choking him. How his body reacted every time she squeezed her bicep against his throat, every coarse groan he let out that she thought was one of pain… It gave her an idea.
She moved her free hand from his hair to his cheek, and slid her finger down his jaw. “Bob… I will put my hand on your throat now. Tell me if is too much.”
Bob looked at her and gave a small, quick nod that gave her all the permission she needed.
Her hand slid down his jaw and onto his throat, hesitant to take any further action. She steeled her nerves, boxed away the negative (?) memories from earlier that day, and clamped her hand down. She was rewarded with another sweet noise from Bob.
Yelena resumed her pumping motions as she squeezed down on Bob’s throat, appreciating the noises that came out of him. She was feeling the intensity herself - every sound he made was engrossing her mind further and further, and the heat she once felt was now more akin to an inferno that was creeping its way into parts of her body she was flustered to think about.
Through ragged breaths, Bob cried, “Yelena I'm about to cum.”
“Good,” she murmured. “Don’t hold anything in.”
The rhythmic pumping and twitching felt like a drum beat in Bob’s chest. Every stroke, every squeeze on his throat was edging him closer to completion.
It was too much. Wave after wave of pleasure spread over his body, shaking, and Yelena was grinning as he spilled over her hand. His breath was heavy and hot as she squeezed the last of his pleasure from his body.
“Хороший мальчик,” She whispered in his ears. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t understand Russian; He could understand her.
She pulled her hands away from his throat and his cock and looked at the mess she turned him into, and the mess on her hands. “Sorry I got you messy after your shower,” She quipped. “You do not seem to mind.”
Bob looked back at her, flustered. “Let me grab a towel,” He got up slowly, head still dizzy from his orgasm, and walked back to his bathroom where he grabbed his still-wet towel that was dangling off of the sink.
When he came up, Yelena was already laying on his bed and the sight made his heart flutter. He gazed at her figure, small in his large bed.
“Are you going to help me or stare?” she asked with mirth.
“R-Right,” He gave her the towel and she didn’t seem to mind its dampness. She wiped off the last of it and balled up the towel, tossing it into his hamper.
They laid together in his bed, cuddling. Yelena moved closer to Bob, shifting on top of him and setting her head on his chest. She twisted their legs together and inhaled deeply, smelling the pumpkin-scented body wash he used.
“Are you tired, Bob?” she sighed, face down into him.
“Not really.”
“Well I will stay here anyways. You are warm,” Yelena cooed.
“I’d like that.”