Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ava woke sore and covered in bruises. Chest, neck, thighs. She ran her fingers over them, wincing at the circular darkening of skin at the slope of her neck to her shoulder. John had really sunk his teeth in there.

Most mornings started with a briefing of possible missions, solo or otherwise, and usually some business about catching up with whatever larger wheels were moving.

It was mostly boring. Ava had been a (secret) S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for years, but she had a handler to deal with her briefs and she just did her job.

She missed that.

Not the living weapon thing, but the ease of it. They treated her with fear; the New Avengers did no such thing. Which should have been good for her, but it forced her to do a lot of things she’d rather not.

“Morning, Bob,” she said, bumping into the other Tower occupant on the way to the elevator.

“Hey, Ava,” Bob replied. He eyed her as she gripped her right shoulder and moved her arm around. “Sleep okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, fine.” She dropped her arm. “Slept wrong.” Just a little white lie.

He nodded and chatted about the book he was reading until they joined the others. The morning sun shone through the wall of windows. Everyone looked about as tired as they always did before noon.

Ava sat near Yelena and glanced across the room at John. He leaned back on one elbow and tilted his head away from the sun. Caught her eye and glanced hurriedly away.

She arched an eyebrow and sat forward, chin in hand, as Valentina walked in, steaming coffee in hand, Mel following as well, moving to sit next to Bob. Valentina sat, welcomed them all with the same grating tone as always.

Another morning at the Tower.

ooo

Everything felt the same and continued that way for days. The same missions, the same scrabble and arguments. Ava thought things would change, but it didn’t. The only thing was that she could look at John Walker and imagine just how he looked kneeling at her feet.

She was curled up in her room, having just taken her suit off for the night, when her phone lit up across the room where she’d tossed it earlier.

She ignored it for a while, enjoying the feeling of being free of containment. She didn’t need to wear her suit all of the time but she did especially need it if she wanted to travel for more than a blink. With the suit, she could stay incorporeal for sixty seconds and cover up to a quarter mile if she knew where she was going. Without it, she could bounce around a room, usually no further than twenty feet and only for a few seconds.

Valentina had actually, regretfully, helped stabilize her body further, after Janet van Dyne’s initial assistance. When the van Dyne’s were vanished by the Snap, Valentina had managed to find the quantum particles needed to make it so Ava could go days without needing her suit to stay alive.

Ava took advantage of it when she could. Especially at night. It was so much more comfortable to sleep without needing the suit.

She had actually dozed off on her couch when her phone buzzed again as a reminder. Sighing, she retrieved it and rubbed her eyes, blinking at the screen.

John had texted her. Hey you up?

What was he? Twelve? She rolled her eyes. Typed: what the hell do you want?

She watched his typing bubbles appear and disappear for so long that she stretched out on her couch again and closed her eyes until her phone buzzed. Cracking her eyes open, she squinted at the screen.

Could I come over?

it took you ten minutes to write that? She rubbed the right side slope of her neck, the only remaining bruise from the other night with John. It was nearly gone, but she could still feel it.

A much quicker response. You are incredibly mean you know that?

what can I say, you bring it out of me

Another minute of typing bubbles. Want to make my night worse?

worse or better?

Either

She chuckled in the silence of her room. no, not tonight

Clicked her phone screen off, snuggled into a pillow and dozed. She half expected to get a knock on her door, but he surprised her by actually saying away. He didn’t even say anything in return to her text.

ooo

He didn’t know if the others noticed. He tried very hard not to stare at Ava, but he couldn’t help himself. He watched her with barely contained lust. It was complicated for a few reasons:

One, she was a very attractive woman and he’d never denied that fact.

Two, he could not stop thinking about the pity sex–it hardly registered to him that’s what it was, given the context clues of Ava being the only other person besides Bob who seemed to give a damn about him.

Three, he couldn’t stop wanting to do it again. Not just for the first reason, but because it was something exceptionally appealing to indulge rough sex without having to think.

Four, he was only about a week off from his divorce and that still made him question and hesitate.

Five, he was horny as fuck, which was at great odds with number four.

No one seemed to notice anything though, not even Ava, who chatted with everyone else and dragged him every once and a while with a mean comment.

The fuck was wrong with him that her degrading comments made his dick twitch?

Fuck.

Hadn’t she offered? After the first time? He hadn’t imagined that, had he? But she’d already rebuffed him two nights ago and he was beginning to think that her invitation had been fully rescinded.

But he was not a man who took no without a fight, so that evening, once the halls were empty, John knocked on her door.

He waited for far longer than he should have. Any respectable man would have left, but he was scraping the bottom of the barrel with that one.

Finally, Ava opened the door slowly, one strong eyebrow arched, balancing a sleek black knife in her left hand. “Well?” she prompted by way of greeting.

“A knife? Are you flirting with me?” he asked without meaning to.

She laughed. “I would never dine to stoop so low, Walker,” she mused, lips staying curled in a smirk.

Once again, body betrayal. A single low blow was all it took. Pathetic, John. “Can I come in?”

Ava crossed her arms, knife clasped carefully in her fingers. “Are you going to beg?”

He blinked slowly. “Please,” he said flatly.

A beat, and she stepped aside. He stepped in and the door clicked shut, cutting them off from the rest of the Tower.

“Are you going to actually beg?” she asked, stepping in front of him, letting the tip of her knife fall against his shirt. She trailed the blunt edge end down his chest. “Because I’m not sure you’ve suffered long enough to come crawling back already.”

“Already?” John scoffed.

Ava tilted her head and tapped his chest with her knife. “Well?”

“Ava,” John said instead. “I thought we were friends.”

She sighed and phased over to the open knife box in the corner, depositing the blade. “We’re friendly coworkers,” she said, distancing herself physically and emotionally.

“Friends,” John repeated.

“Fine, we’re friends.” She looked over at him, arms crossed. “But you did come crawling back.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me why.” She stood there, expectant, like this was a test.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he said, which was the truth.

She started walking around the room back toward him.

“Literally couldn’t stop myself,” he explained further. “I would have waited outside your door all night.”

“And when someone asked what you were doing?” she asked, amused.

“Lied.”

“Naturally,” she said with a smile. “You can’t stop yourself…”

“From thinking about you,” he adlibbed, filling in the blank. She was just a few feet away now, body encased in athletic shorts and a cropped sweatshirt. Her waist disappeared under the boxy hem and he wanted his hands there immediately, pressing against her skin. “I can’t stop.”

“Oh, Walker,” she tutted, right in front of him now. Was this the moment she told him it was all a joke, that she hadn’t meant for them to do this again, that he wasn’t worth the effort? He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he also would go fucking insane if she did. His breath caught in his chest when she reached up and grabbed his chin by his beard, tiny prickles of pain, and her shining light eyes staring up at him. “I can help with that. I’m feeling generous today.”

The tension in his body shifted.

“And you look so sad and tormented,” she added with a playful frown, tugging at his beard. “We can’t have that.”

Maybe there was a god, a sweet, merciful god, out there.

“Please,” and this time he meant it.

“What would make you less sad, hmm?”

Desperation and desire overrode any common self-respect. “You. I need to be inside of you. I need to feel you again. Ava–”

She flickered out of space when his hands reached for her and he dropped them to his side, twisting to see where she’d gone.

She appeared in the same place, this time, her hands on his shoulders. “Remember the rules last time?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. No touching unless she said so, kissing off limits.

“Good boy,” she cooed softly, pushing him to his knees. He folded and knelt, her fingers delicately skimming over the shell of his ears, sending a shiver down his spine. Hands guided his face toward her exposed stomach and his lips touched her flesh, and he sank against her like a sigh of relief.

She instructed him to undress her, which he did, though he only got as far as her shorts before pressing his face to her cunt. He pushed his tongue against the damp fabric and teased out bruises on her hipbones and ass with his fingertips before striping her of the last bit of fabric before devouring her from his knees. She had to steady herself on his shoulders, coming unexpectedly quickly despite her efforts of control.

“Damn,” she hissed, even as her body flooded with warmth.

“Sorry,” he apologized. It was almost sweet of him.

She tugged off her shirt and pushed him toward her couch, making him sit. He gazed up at her with wide, hungry eyes, all need and desire, body poised to give whatever she took from him.

Ava reclined against him, her back to his chest. She moved his arm around her torso, his hand finding her right breast. She tilted her head back against his shoulder and hooked her own hand into his hair behind her. John hid his heavy breaths against her neck, squeezed and massaged the soft flesh under his hand, making her huff and squirm with pleasure.

“Touch me.”

No need to ask twice. His free hand dove between her spread thighs, fingers sliding through thick folds, rounding her clit. Her breath hitched.

“Is this good?” he asked, one of the few sentences that he was always able to muster even as his brain took a holiday to pleasure.

“Yes,” she nodded, gripping his hair. “Leave bruises.”

He bit into her shoulder and held her torso tightly against him. Dipped his fingers, teased her entrance. She got wetter by the second, and there was nothing for him in the world but Ava, Ava, Ava…

“Can I–?”

“Yes, slowly.”

He pressed one finger into her. She sighed and shifted her hips, rocking against his palm. He stroked, added a second slowly.

Her fingers clawed painfully into his hair.

He stopped but she shook her head hurriedly, “Keep going.”

He did, moving his hand, curling his fingers. She joined his rhythm, feeling herself nearly cresting–

“Stop.”

“Stop?” He did even as he asked.

She closed her eyes, stayed still. She found that building and pausing, building again, always felt like such a rush.

He slid his fingers out of her and waited.

Ava turned incorporeal and twisted around in his lap, coming back to sit and push his shoulders back. He moved so easily beneath her palms. “Good boy,” she murmured, pushing his chin up and back, revealing his throat. She dipped her head to sink her teeth in, licking the hard red marks left behind. Rolled her hips against his thigh, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He moaned out and grabbed for her. She batted his hands away, bit down a little too hard on his earlobe and then sat back. “Pants, off,” she said, disappearing again.

John quickly kicked off his sweats and she was there again, settling down on his lap, the bulge of his erection evident. He groaned at the wet weight of her.

Her hands curled around his neck. “Bite,” she said, guiding his mouth toward her breasts. He sucked and swirled and bit, tugging on her nipples with his teeth, careful with the delicate soft flesh. She rolled her hips against him, extracting a whimper against her chest.

“Oh, you want to be inside of me?”

“God, yes. Please.”

Ava slid a hand between them, freeing his cock from his underwear, roughly stroked. He mumbled out an exploitative. She hitched herself higher on her knees, guiding him into her.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbled against her skin. How had he lasted a week without this? He wanted to be here all of the time, her body against his, his cock in her cunt, nothing but bliss.

Ava would not admit it aloud, but he felt damn good to her too. She bit down on her bottom lip and sank fully onto him. She rocked and his arms tightened around her lower back.

With his lips sucking bruises onto her skin, and her hands curled around his neck and shoulders, she moved herself up and down the length of his cock, with a little help from his strong grip.

“Good boy,” she praised, stroking his hair as her breath came in gasps. “Make me come, touch.”

She released her grip on and he sat back, eyes gazing at the place where their bodies met. His lips parted and she placed his hand where she wanted it. His fingers splayed across her lower abdomen, he rubbed her clit with his thumb.

“Yes, g-good,” she panted, hissing as she came around him, clenching and shaking. It took all of his willpower not to immediately follow.

But his time would come as she uttered more praise, stroked his face and gripped his chin, uttering more orders. He laid back, her once again above him, rocking her hips and pushing his cock to her G-spot. He reached for her, needing to touch, grab her hips or breasts or anything to hold onto. She pressed her palm to his instead, folding their fingers together and using it as leverage: one hand with his, the other on the back of the couch. She tossed her head back and used him to her pleasure, slid up and down on his cock until he growled and grabbed her hip with his free hand and pushed her down against him hard.

“I didn’t say you could come yet,” she huffed, settling her weight fully on him, releasing his hand.

“Ahh…” He panted, swallowed and stayed still for a few seconds. “I won’t,” he managed to say.

“I’m getting tired,” she said, tracing her nails down his chest. “Would you like to fuck me?”

“Yes.” He nodded, eyes meeting hers. “Don’t know how long I’ll last,” he admitted, to which she shrugged and climbed off of him, disappearing. With shaking limbs, he got to his feet as she appeared in front of him like before, her back pressing against his chest. They stumbled onto the couch on their knees, his cock pressed between them before he took a short breath and pushed into her.

“Good fucking god,” he muttered, one arm clasped around her torso. His other hand slid up her neck–he was too blissed out to be surprised that she let him hold her jaw in his palm. He barely moved his hips.

“Be a good boy and I’ll even let you come on me,” she said, stroking his arms with her fingertips.

“Shit,” he muttered. He had about thirty seconds to fuck her, and he did, deep seated and barely pulling out, but dug himself deeper and pulled moans of pleasure from her. He let his hold on her go to grab her hips. “I’m, fuck, close.”

He missed the smirk that curled across her face, when he pulled out of her, stroked himself to come. Hot white lines across her back that he barely had a second to admire before she disappeared from sight when his body still shuddered.

He cupped his hand around himself to catch the remaining cum and not stain her couch, which she appreciated. She disappeared into the bathroom, cleaned her back with a grimace, and then returned to give him a damp towel.

“Thanks,” he said as she crossed her arms.

“You look less miserable now.”

He huffed a laugh and winced at the cloth against sensitive skin. “Brain’s uh…flooding with dopamine,” he explained.

“Ah, that’s it,” she nodded. “That won’t happen again."

“Dopamine?”

“Coming on me. I felt bad for you, but–” She made a face and shook her head. She liked a certain amount of order and cleanliness and sex already was inherently messy. Adding in more possibilities of sticky cleanup and the sex appeal lost, well, it’s appeal.

“I might be the only man in the history of the world to say this, but I could just wear condoms and that takes care of all of that.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Why would you even say that? You know they’re lying when they say you can’t feel a difference.” It wasn’t just that, but she wouldn’t dare tell him. She was still figuring out where her lines were with her offering him sex. 

“Why are you arguing with me? It was just a suggestion. And maybe not an unreasonable one.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m just saying.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Fine.” He got to his feet and handed her the balled up cloth. Walked around her to grab his clothes.

She watched him. “Do you…feel better at least?”

He pulled on his shirt. “Do I feel better after having sex with you, Ava? If I said no there’d be something seriously wrong with me.”

“More than already,” she muttered, tone playful. A small satisfied smile played on her lips. “Good. That’s why I’m doing this, y’know.”

“To make me feel better?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged a little. “Is that so bad of me? We are friends.”

“You feel bad for me?”

“I don’t want you to be so sad all the time. Sorry if that offends.”

He sighed. “That’s bizarrely nice of you.”

“I can be nice.”

“Believe it when I see it.” He walked to the door before they dragged themselves into another argument. Or not-argument. “I’ll see you later.”

“‘Night, Walker.”

ooo

Ava perched on the edge of the island in the kitchen, bopping her head to the music streaming through a single earbud. She held a plastic leftover container in her hand and took a bite of food.

“Hey.” John, walking into the room, dressed casual. It was nearly ten at night. The Tower was surprisingly quiet.

“Hey,” she echoed, putting her food down on her lap and tapping pause on her phone.

“What’d you think about that news story?” he asked, popping open the fridge and peering inside.

Ava shrugged, picking up her food again. “It’s weird enough for me to be in any spotlight. Negative or otherwise.” She took another bite, kicked her legs a little.

“I guess having your face plastered all over everyone’s living rooms would kind of defeat the ghostly assassin thing,” he agreed, frowning into the shelves. “Where the hell…”

“Exactly,” she agreed, twisting a little to look at him. Grey sweatpants, navy t-shirt, thick reddish beard. “What are you looking for?”

“I got some decent gumbo from this place down in East Harlem,” he said, standing and placing his hands on his hips.

Ava glanced down at the container in her hands. It had about one bite left. She quickly shoveled the rest into her mouth. “I’d blame Alexei,” she said, hopping off the counter as he turned to look at her.

He frowned in her direction. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” she said, even though she was hiding her trash (his trash?) beneath the view of the island, walking toward the trashcan. “I’m telling you, Alexei has no concept of personal space.”

John paused, thought about it. “I mean, you’re right.”

She hurriedly dropped the container in the bin and then she phased to the sink, placing her spoon inside. “I usually am,” she agreed, crossing her arms and licking her lips.

“Are you lying?” he stepped closer now that she had moved near.

“I have no reason to lie to you about food, Walker,” she scoffed, taking a step backward.

“You ate my food didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Why are you backing up?”

She stopped mid-step, straightened her spine. “I don’t like the accusatory look on your face.”

“Why do you think it’s accusatory?” He stepped closer still.

Her eyebrows raised. “Hello, because that’s what your face is saying, obviously.” She waved her hand around in front of his face.

He grabbed her wrist. She disappeared from his grip, appearing on the other side of the island. “I think I’m going to go,” she shot a thumb over her shoulder.

“Only the guilty run, Ava!” John’s voice was accusatory, but it was also full of mirth. He darted around the island and she ran in the other direction.

“I’m running because you’re chasing me!” she exclaimed. She didn’t phase or disappear, even though she could have easily. She slipped in her socks on the tile and he caught her, slamming into her, arm sliding around her middle.

“Gotcha.” He lifted her off her feet.

She pushed at his arm with her palms, kicked her feet out. “Walker,” she laughed, “let go of me!”

“Are you admitting defeat?”

“At your hand?” She stilled, her body relaxing against his for a moment. “Never.”

She phased away from him, spun around and waved. “Bye!” She disappeared from view, escaping any further chasing.

John let out an amused breath and shook his head. He shook out his arm, trying to forget the solid feeling of her, but she was like a ghost, haunting all the moments when she wasn’t there. Fitting. Shitty for him, but fitting.

J: Just say you’re sorry
A: in what world?
J: It wouldn’t kill you
A: ok fine, I’m sorry
A: that you’re such a prick :)
J: Seriously?
A: what? I apologized!
J: I don’t think you understand what an apology is
A: I don’t have to. I’m a delight to be around
J: You still ate my very clearly marked food in the fridge.
A: oh no, pretty boy is angry
J: Don’t call me that
A: no you’re right. be a good boy and accept my apology
J: You have Pavlov’s dog’d me
A: you’re welcome

ooo

The training room was state of the art–gotta give it to Valentina–and while they as a team sometimes ran drills, usually everyone trained alone.

So when Ava walked through the automatic door and saw John, she almost phased out of the room before saying anything.

But she had used the door, so he’d heard her come in. He was missing his helmet, but otherwise was suited up. She was also in her suit, though she hadn’t put her helmet up.

“Great minds,” he said.

She arched an eyebrow.

“Think alike? Because we uh…we’re both here. Training.”

“Right. Smooth,” she laughed, stepping lightly onto the main raised floor. “I don’t want to train with you.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Because you get on my nerves and it’s distracting.”

“How do I get on your nerves?” He adjusted his twisted shield in his grip.

“By existing.”

“Ow.” He lifted a hand to his chest. “Someone get up on the wrong side of the bed? You’re mean but not usually this mean.”

She waved a hand. “It’s nothing.” She put her helmet up.

John stepped closer, grabbed her arm gently. “Ava.”

She sighed, the sound filtered through the helmet’s unique design. “Don’t worry about me, John,” she said, a rare moment when she used his name. He always took it as a sign that he was onto something when she did. That she did it when emotions were involved in some way.

“Okay. I’ll leave you the room, I guess.”

He started to leave.

“Actually…you can stay.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. A little sparring wouldn’t hurt.” She phased to the very center of the room.

He took a few steps closer. “Live rounds?”

Tilted her head to the side. “Live dangerously.” He could hear the smirk on her face and then she disappeared.

They hadn’t truly fought like this since their first meeting in the vault. Having worked on the team for close to a year since then, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that they managed to work together well.

She darted around the room. He didn’t always catch her, but he knew her patterns well enough. Punches, dodges, knives, the occasional bullet blast that she phased away from or he ricocheted with his shield. At one point, she phased directly behind him, yanked his shield and arm across his body, her arm curled around his neck.

He gritted his teeth, back arching, shoulder screaming as it was pulled past a comfortable position.

“Hmmmm,” her voice was a slight vibration through her mask, “got you.”

“Hot,” he muttered, barely audible.

She chuckled.

He fumbled with his pinned arm at his side but managed to get it loose. Sent his elbow into her ribs. Her grip loosened and he spun, losing his shield on purpose. He gripped her wrist to twist her away from him and kicked her across the room. She phased mid-air and landed on her feet on the edge of the raised platform.

She brought her hand to her gun and he ducked and rolled for his shield. “Shit,” he hissed, blocking one bullet, swinging his shield out in the opposite direction to try to catch her when she reappeared. He caught her once, but she phased again, tossing her empty gun and switching to a knife.

A little hand to hand, forearms bracing against each other, her knife seeking purchase in his chest. He gritted his teeth.

“Y’know, your mask is very unnerving,” he hissed out.

“I know,” she said, and then she phased, appearing behind him, the hilt of her knife jabbed into his side. “I keep telling you, I’d kill you before you could even blink.”

“Only because of your phasing thing,” he insisted, slapping her knife away and turning around to face her. “Which is kind of annoying and kind of hot.”

“Walker…” Behind her mask, Ava’s eyes darted to the far tall corner of the room. Val had every room in this place monitored, except for their personal suites–though Ava knew they all routinely double checked for bugs just in case. “Not here.”

He stepped close, as close as one could get, their chests almost touching. “Where? I’m all fired up.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him away with a flat hand to the chest. “Where else?”

John looked at her, hungry, and she had to admit that the adrenaline from the sparring was flooding her body with energy. “Thirty minutes,” she said, knowing her muffled voice was hard to capture on the cameras. “Shower first.”

He took orders easily enough and did just that. Thirty minutes was enough for her to get out of her suit and rinse off, pull on cotton shorts and a t-shirt. She let John in when he arrived, already a plan on her mind. She needed something tonight, this wasn’t just her doing him a favor to up his spirits.

Every new time he saw her, he just wanted to take her head in his hands and smother her mouth with his, to taste her tongue and breathe her in. But every time he stopped himself. Because it was against the rules, because she didn’t want it for some reason. They did plenty without kissing on the lips, but he found himself missing the simple act–before he got distracted by Ava’s orders of course.

“Still feeling ‘fired up’?” she asked, putting air quotes around the words.

“Yes,” he nodded. Even though the way she said it made it sound cringey and juvenile.

“Good, so you’ll hate my idea.” She looked sly, taking a few steps backward, toward her room.

He raised his eyebrows. “What idea is that?”

“You’ll see.” She then phased right in front of him, tapping his chest with a finger. “Off.”

John obeyed, relieving himself of his shirt.

“Did the serum change your body much?” she asked.

“Not much.”

“Liar.” She hooked her finger in the waistband of his sweatpants. “I’ve never seen you work out ever and yet…”

“Ah, you like me for my body.”

She tilted her head. “Who said anything about liking you?”

The light in his eyes faded slightly. Ava only felt a little bad. She was too focused; she needed to be.

“You’re going to do something very special tonight.”

“I am?”

“Yes.” Walking backward towards her room, dragging him with her. “I don’t have anything to tie you up with, so you’ll have to be very still.”

John opened his mouth, closed it, frowned a little. “You were gonna tie me up?”

“This will be better.” She stopped walking once in her bedroom. “You’ll have to show me just how good you can be.”

“What if I wanted you to tie me up?” he asked. He didn’t actually want to be tied up…he didn’t think. He was pretty sure, but he had to ask because he was a little bit of a shithead. And maybe he did want to be tied up a little bit.

“Then we do that next time,” she huffed. “Keep asking questions and I’ll kick you out and you’ll have to beat one out all alone in your room.”

He put his hands up in surrender.

“Good.” She backed up close to the wall. “Undress me.”

He moved close, sliding his hands under her shirt and pushing it up her torso and over her head. Tossed the shirt aside and ran his fingertips down her chest, brushing across her nipples, which hardened and pebbled in response. She hummed when he cupped her breast in hand, massaged and pinched, eliciting a small sharp gasp, before his hands fell to her hips and hooked around the waist of her shorts. He kneeled and freed her of the bottoms.

She was perfectly naked, tantalizingly so. He gazed at her hungrily, and she took his face in her hands almost tenderly, tilted his face up to look at her face.

“Eat your fill,” she instructed.

He let out a shaky breath, one hand hooking behind her knee, lifting her leg to his shoulder and he did as he was told. She leaned back against the wall and kept herself steady as he buried his face in her cunt and made her legs shake. He could feel her growing unsteady as she told him to keep going. He held her up with one hand on her ass, the other on her hip, as her hands pulled at his hair.

She came shaking and crying out, unable and unwilling to tease herself out like usual. He let her down gently on quivering limbs, wiped his mouth with his hand and stayed on his knees.

“Good, very good,” she praised, cupping his face again and leaning close. If she was anyone else, he would have thought she was going to kiss him. He knew she wouldn’t, but still moved toward her like a flower to the sun. “Now get on the bed. Pants off.”

She stayed by the wall, using it to stay upright, eyes glistening. He was so far into the routine of the usual paces that he didn’t question, just did as he was told.

“On your back,” she continued, joining him, standing on her knees on the end of the bed. “And stay very still.”

“For how long?”

“For however long I say,” she told him. She crawled up closer to him as he settled on his back. His cock was half-mast, resting against his pelvis. “You probably want me to touch you, huh?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

Her hand hovered. “Yes?”

“Yes. Please.”

“If you stay very still,” she reminded. She did touch him then, his cock responding to her touch, hardening and straining. He had to fight against the instinct to buck his hips. Her eyes though, remained on his, which was both intimate and intimidating. He was expecting a twist, like her to pull a knife or something equally horrible. Hot? Horrible? The line was very fine.

“I was thinking,” she said instead, pressing her thumb to the base of his head (a groan rolled from his chest), “If you’re a very good boy…” She leaned close, her chin brushing his hip bone.

John struggled to keep as still as she wanted, his mind doing horny parkour, wanting everything all at once. He almost stopped breathing just to keep still.

True to her personal sexual philosophy, she tended to use his body to her liking. Not that he didn’t get anything out of it, but it was not a usual kind of reciprocation. She had never, ever, not once, put her mouth anywhere near his cock.

His brain was sort of short circuiting at the mere closeness.

“Or not,” she straightened and stroked his cock once.

He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m so fucking good,” he said, “I’m the fucking best.”

She smirked. “Move an inch…” she warned.

“I won’t,” he got out before she gripped the base of his cock and pressed powder soft lips around his tip. He made a strangled sound but managed to keep still (enough).

Her tongue swirled and lapped around the bulging edges and her hand stroked his shaft. Ava was certain she was doing as good a job as could be expected by the tension in his body and the steady stream of “fucks” he was saying under his breath. His hands did clench into fists at his sides as he strained not to thrust up.

She released him with a pop and he half moaned, half cried, eyes closed.

So she hadn’t hated that, leveling up to a type of control and power over him she hadn’t had before. Perhaps she should do this more often.

“Oh you are the devil,” he gasped out.

“You moved your hands,” she said, stickler for the rules.

“I’m sorry.”

“Since you can’t stay still…you might as well grab onto me.” She disappeared and reappeared straddling not his waist, but her knees sunk into the mattress beside his head.

“Fuuuuck yes.” John wrapped his arms around her thighs and she settled herself down on his face, using the wall for support.

“Hmmm…you like that, don’t you?” she purred, her own breath growing short. He lapped at her drenched cunt and left hand-shaped bruises against her skin. She huffed in pleasure, rolling her hips, riding his face.

He couldn’t answer of course, but he kept at it, drowning in her and not caring. What a fucking way to go.

An orgasm rolled through her body as he sucked her clit. She hissed out and quite nearly smothered him before she realized that perhaps death was not what she wanted tonight and settled back against his chest instead.

With a shining face and dazed eyes, John’s thumbs gently stroked over her hips. “God, I want to fuck you,” he choked out, giving her a squeeze.

“Oh, but you moved.” She frowned exaggeratedly, face and skin flushed, glittering with sweat.

“Ava, please.” He was desperate.

She needed tonight as much as he did, her body wired and sparking like electricity. And it had nothing to do with anything quantum.

“Yes, okay,” she said, phasing off of him. They’d fucked often enough that they’d tried most of the actually feasible positions. Ava liked them all, but found the ones where their faces were close the most dangerous. That was not for tonight.

What if she stepped over the invisible line that she’d created for herself? No kissing. Kissing meant intimacy, it meant giving herself over to him, and that she would not do.

She reappeared on her stomach on the mattress, arms propped under her chest. “Don’t pull my hair,” she told him as he scrambled to his knees.

Settling himself over her, his legs spread and hers together, he guided his cock into her dripping cunt.

“Bruises,” she instructed, wanting the mementos. She gasped, eyelids fluttering as he pushed inside of her. “Fuck, yes.”

“There, hell.” He gripped her hips painfully hard and seated himself fully. Squeezed his eyes shut. “I need a second…”

“Jesus, that’s…deep,” she gasped, gripping the covers.

“Yeah. Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, panting already. The angle was something else, deeper than any other, almost painful, but she welcomed it, moaning out as he pulled out and thrust. “Good, so good, fuuuck.”

“Oh god, fuck, Ava,” John mumbled out nearly incoherent thoughts as he moved, fucking her as ordered. He let go of her hips, leaning over her, dipping his head to bite her shoulder, her neck, thrusting, panting, fucking. He thought after months of this he would have gotten adjusted, but every time surpassed the last.

“Keep going,” she ordered as he sat back, grabbing her hips again.

He did, but he hesitated, paused, gritted his teeth and moved her on his cock. “I don’t…shit, I don’t–I’m close, you feel too fucking good.”

“Ughhh!” Face pressed to her covers, she muffled her curse at men and their stupid single-track minds and bodies.

He growled a little, fucking her harder, faster. He was cognizant enough to pull out at the last second, coming into his hand as she flickered in and out of sight. She propped against pillows, legs pulled under her, feeling pleasantly achy, watching.

“Good boy,” she approved as he hunched over, shuddered and shook his head. “No?”

“Best fucking boy,” he grinned cockily, raising his head to look at her.

“Say that again when your hands aren’t full of cum.” She laughed at his expense, launched to her knees and gave his shoulder a hard bite before she phased.

Back to their usual routine: her getting him something to get clean with and him leaving immediately after. It was the closest to aftercare as she’d ever gotten but it seemed to work.

She eyed the red marks on her neck and shoulder, the bruises she’d have around her hips, in the bathroom mirrors before returning to the room with a wet cloth.

He left in a shuffle, even his serum-filled limbs feeling the effects. His hair was a mess, his pupils blown out like he was on something. The Tower was empty enough that no one saw him. For once, he didn’t think he’d be able to wrangle together a single sentence that could have excused his appearance.

ooo

A: do you feel like drinking?
J: Most days
J: Why? You don’t usually drink much
A: today is the day my parents died
A: the day my life ceased to be mine and I lost everything
A: I don’t know why I texted you
J: I’m sorry. Do you want company?
A: maybe that’s why I texted you
A: you are a complete asshole but you’re mine
A: I’m on the helicopter deck
A: bring more alcohol please
A: thank you
J: I’ll be up in ten minutes

“Hey.” John stopped a few feet away from the edge of the deck. Ava sat directly on the edge, in her suit, legs dangling off. “I’m…not sitting out there. I’m sure I could survive the fall but…”

Ava got to her feet, kicking the bottle sitting next to her. Whiskey or rum by the looks of it, nearly empty. The cap wasn’t on and it spilled alcohol across a foot of space as it spun and then teetered off the edge.

“Whoops,” she said, making a face.

“You been up here a while?” he asked as she followed him from the edge, to the middle of the H.

“What does it look like?” She waved her arms out at the silence of the night. They were too high up to hear the street traffic.

He shrugged and waved the bottle of Jack in his hand. “You texted me.”

“Right.” She looked over at him, squinting.

“Why didn’t you call Yelena?”

“Why? Just because we’re both girls, I should automatically go to her for comfort?”

“What? No, I just figured you two were close. Because you’re teammates.”

“We are.” Ava held her hand out and waved her fingers for the bottle. “But she’s not who I texted.”

“Nah, you thought of me. Your fuck buddy.” He popped the top of the bottle and handed it over.

“Friend,” she said and then took an extra long drink, making a face.

“Buddy means friend.”

She swayed a little and promptly sat down on the concrete. He joined her, a little more gracefully. She handed him the bottle. “I’ve never had friends before now,” she said, voice quiet, eyes looking out across the lights of the city. “Ben Foster was like a father to me. He helped me more than anyone has my entire life. But I never had friends. I was too unstable.” She snorted and then flopped back, laying fully out against the concrete.

“Good thing we’re all a little unstable.” John took a long drink, set the bottle down and then more carefully laid back, folded his hands over his stomach.

“You know what’s funny? And not funny, haha that’s a joke funny, but funny like sad, like a knife in the gut?” It was a rhetorical question. “I was trying to get to my dad when this happened to me. And he died anyway. So I became this…this for no reason. I could have been normal.”

There were stars up there somewhere, but the light pollution from the city made it nearly impossible to see them, even this high up.

“And even sadder is that I can barely remember them at all.” She had been talking with her hands, but now they fell against the concrete at her sides. “But every time this day comes around, I feel like I’ve lost them all over again because I am. I can’t even picture their faces.”

Her voice broke a little at the end. John looked over at her, spotted tears leaking into her hair. He reached out between them and took her hand, palm to palm. Her suit had a rubbery feeling to it. It was more than symbolic for her to be fully encased, body hidden, when she was emotionally wrought.

“I think that’s normal,” he said, looking up again at the smoggy sky. “I just get angry.”

She sniffed and squeezed his hand.

“And I have pictures plenty. I just…I see my best friend’s face and I just get angry. I can’t even muster up good memories, or grief enough to cry. Y’know, normal shit.” He clenched his jaw, swallowed hard.

“Death sucks,” Ava said quietly.

“Yeah,” he agreed. The sentiment was easy, simple, nothing like the actual fact. “Is this why you were weird a few days ago? In the training room?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. Turned her head to look at him. “Sorry.”

“You’re apologizing? I wish I had that on camera.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

“I’m very drunk, that’d be blackmail.”

“You think blackmail is beneath me?”

“You wouldn’t,” she said simply with complete faith. She turned to look at the sky. “I wish I could see the stars.”

“Are you, like, compelled to look at the stars because y’know, your name?”

She made a face. “I don’t think so. I just like them. Reminds me that there’s more out there.”

“Too much space,” he concurred.

They were quiet for a while, unmoving, hands still clasped.

“I’m too drunk to move,” Ava said finally. “I’m afraid I’m going to phase through the deck and splat on the street.”

“Don’t do that,” John exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t do it willingly.”

“Just…just stay here and when you can, crawl back inside where it’s safe.”

She huffed. “Logical.”

“I have my moments.”

She snickered and then giggled and full out laughed, only the kind of laugh a child or a very drunk superhero could achieve. John shook his head as she continued to laugh at his expense. At least she was smiling instead of wallowing in grief.

ooo

A: you want me so bad it makes you look stupid
J: Are you flirting with me?
A: no, just an observation
A: stop staring at me when we’re with the team, you can’t hide things on your face
A: and you’re clearly lusting after me
J: Clearly
A: after all I’ve done for you, you’re going to give me attitude? tut tut
J: You’re the one who texted me to say I’m stupid
A: I can’t let you get too comfortable
J: Can I come over later?
A: beg
J: I need you
A: weak
J: You’re gorgeous and dangerous and I want to please you
A: better
J: I’ll do whatever you want me to do
A: you always do, good boy
J: Need to taste you and fuck you with my tongue
A: hmmm come over after 8

ooo

“It happened.” John appeared in front of her, sitting backward on a chair and invading her space.

Ava looked up from the laptop she’d been using. “Your first chest hair?”

He waved aside her jab. There was something…light about him, almost skittish, but positive. “Olivia reached out,” he pressed onward. “She said I could see Benji for a few minutes or y’know, like twenty.”

Ava closed her computer, mustering up a smile. “That’s great, Walker.”

“Yeah? It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him.” Olivia kept their son far away from him after she packed up and left.

“Wow. He’s probably what, doubled in size?” she said. She didn’t know children, didn’t understand the attachment, but she knew that John felt like a shit father (because he was) but maybe he could be better. He seemed hopeful about it at least.

John frowned a little at her comment. “I mean…yeah, probably.” He ran his palms nervously over the back of the chair. “I just…I don’t want him to forget me, y’know? I don’t want Olivia to tell him I don’t exist.”

Ava pressed her lips together and nodded. “She still might, even if you don’t want her to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she could. But this is better than nothing. And I’m an Avenger now. That’s got to mean something.”

He looked desperate for approval–not in the way she was used to, but in a more sad kind of way.

“Maybe,” she said, trying to sound hopeful for him, even though she didn’t think that being an Avenger–at least not the way their team was–really had much credibility at all.

John took a deep breath, let it out slowly, tapped his hands on the back of the seat. “Right. She’s going to bring him to a park, somewhere public, she said.”

“Because of legal stuff, I’m sure.”

“Yeah I-I can’t see him without her approval.”

Ava sighed and reached over to grip one of his hands with her own. “Take the win, John.”

He nodded, his eyes fell to their hands. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Would you come with me?”

“Um…” She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think bringing another woman to meet your ex-wife and son is really the move.”

“You’re not just anyone,” he looked over at her.

She squirmed in her seat.

“You’re an Avenger, too. A reminder that I’m doing…better.”

“A sweet thought,” she said, letting him down easy. “But I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Especially since you…obviously have a type and I don’t think Olivia would appreciate you bringing me along. She might get the wrong idea.”

She wasn’t even sure he understood what she was getting at. “You could stay invisible,” he nearly pleaded.

“For a minute,” she reminded him. His eyes were awfully blue when he was looking a little scared and broken.

“Ava…I can’t do this alone. I’ll fuck it up.”

She sighed, bit her top lip and squeezed his hand. If they both claimed that they were friends, this was the least she could do, right? “I can drive you and wait for you.”

He smiled genuinely. “Thanks.”

She freed her hand from his grip and tugged his beard. “Don’t mention it.”

A few days later, after everything had gotten sorted, Ava sat idling at a curb, having dropped John off ten minutes prior. He’d nearly been jumping out of his skin. He’d been so painfully nervous and excited, fearful. Had come bearing a teddy bear gift.

Ava had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that things would go badly but hoped it was just her general caution about life and not something prophetic. She scribbled in a Sudoku book with a dying pen until the passenger side door opened.

“Hey, how’d it go?” she asked as he climbed into the seat.

He let himself fall heavily back into the seat, slammed the door. “Fine,” he said, obviously upset.

She didn’t say anything, but she could feel his emotions coming off of him in waves. Swore she could see them.

“What happened?” she finally prompted after he sat there with a hundred yard stare for a solid ninety seconds.

He sucked in a breath, her words bringing him back to the present. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Nothing. I mean, I saw him and he’s…just this perfect kid.” A pause. “And I can’t do it. I’m gonna be a shitty fucking dad forever.”

“John…” She reached over, her slender fingers carding through his hair. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning toward her. Twisted in the seat, his forehead resting against her shoulder. She didn’t know what else to do. Stroked his hair, murmured that she was sorry, that it would be okay. “That’s what people say right? Even if it’s a lie?”

He had relaxed under her touch. Swallowing, he straightened up, face close to hers, her hand pressing against the side of his neck. “Yeah,” he said, paired with a sad smile. He curled his fingers around her wrist and moved her hand away.

“You want to go get into another bar fight, don’t you?” she asked, recalling his self-destructive tendencies.

“Maybe a little.”

“You want company this time?”

“Yeah, okay.”

ooo

Ava danced across the battlefield, adrenaline rushing, the target a small team of superpowered people with some energy shaking abilities. Power blasts, literal earthquake inducing shuddering of the earth’s crust, telekinetic strength that could send chunks of debrief or other New Avengers flying into each other.

She watched Alexei get tossed toward Yelena at full force. In a blink, Ava appeared, shoving Yelena and disappearing herself before two hundred plus pounds of Russian Dad came to crush them both. “Sorry, Alexei!” Ava called to him as he groaned on the ground where he fell.

Yelena ducked and shot out of a corner. One of her bullets hit a shoulder, and the earth stopped bucking under their feet for a few seconds.

“We have to get through their defenses!” Bucky yelled from somewhere nearby as they tried to reconvene for strategy. “Before they take down the whole place and land us in a sinkhole the size of Manhattan.”

“If only one of us had superpowers,” John said, squinting over at the three enemies, perfectly locked in where their powers protected each other. He glanced back at the blank face of Ava’s suit.

“Oh, it’s up to me?” Ava said, shaking her head. She was already thinking it. “Listen, if we can get one of them to get distracted, I can slip in between and neutralize them. I’d need a boost to get in from above.”

“I’ve got you,” John said with a sharp nod, before anyone else could offer.

They didn’t have time to argue–the ground was turning liquid again. Sparks flew from broken electrical and chunks of collapsed buildings whirled in the air.

“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” Bucky muttered, looking at Yelena and Alexei. They would have to serve as the distraction.

“Probably yes,” Yelena said with a shrug, a bit of blood already caked on her face. “The earth shaker one is the easiest to distract. Alexei?”

The Red Guardian nodded, fisting his hand and grinding it into his other palm. “We will flatten them for the lady Ghost.”

“I…don’t need you to call me that,” Ava said, but there was no more time.

“Let’s go,” Bucky said. He and the others went into the fray.

Ava darted and John followed to the clearest space they could find, on a piece of concrete creating a small ramp that’d give just enough clearance for the plan.

“How high do you need to get?” John asked, crouching near her.

Her eyes were trained on the whirlwind of telekinetic energy creating a tornado of rubble around the three enemies. “As high as you can get me,” she said. If she could get around the cyclone, she could skip through the rubble and get all of three of them at once. Everyone on the New Avengers had energy dampening cuffs on their belts. They just had to get to the enemies.

Bullets rang out and the instability of the ground faltered. Ava got to her feet and John knelt, hooking his hands together for her. Light as a feather, she stepped in place just as there was a cry of pain and outrage and the ground fell to what now felt like unnatural stillness.

John used the momentum of standing to toss her like she weighed nothing. She soared into the air and set her sights on the eye of the storm, easily visible from this height.

“Got you,” she murmured to herself, phasing forward, landing in the midst of the enemies silently. She kicked the already thrice-shot and nearly incapacitated earth-shaker in the back of a knee, knife in hand to sink into the ribs of the telekinetic, other elbow knocking the back of the head of the earth-shaker, taking her down fully before phasing through the power-blaster’s back and appearing in front of him before he knew what was going on. She grabbed his jacket and slammed her helmet against his nose and tossed him back into the stabbed telekinetic.

She clipped cuffs on the power blaster as Bucky wrangled the telekinetic and Yelena did the same to the heavily hit earth-shaker. John sauntered onto the scene as the three were sat in the dirt, sirens and wails in the air now that the earth was steady.

Hours later, in the quiet of the Tower, Ava paced around in her room until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Which was rare. Or so she was still clinging to. It was becoming more and more common for her to find herself distracted and desiring sex with John as of late.

Which wasn’t supposed to happen. Having sex with him was supposed to be fun, but she wasn’t supposed to get attached to the point where she found herself craving it. She was doing this for his sake, to stop him from being so mopey about his divorce.

She didn’t even wait, she simply phased into his room.

“Ava!” John growled out her name at her unannounced arrival. He was half-undressed, seated taking off his boots.

“Walker,” she said, buzzing. She had done nothing but slide from her suit before coming over here. She still wore her leggings and compression top. Nothing sexy. Nothing planned and calculated.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, staying seated and pulling off his other boot.

And now she had to come up with a reason for why she was here and not decompressing after the mission like usual. She phased over to in front of him, forcing him to look up at her.

She tilted her head down at him. “We should do that more often,” she said, eyes searching his face.

He sat back, bare chested. “Do what? Take down terrorists with superpowers? If that’s really what gets you going…”

“No,” she shook her head. “Well, yes, but also no. I meant you tossing me. It worked well.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Sometimes I forget how strong you are,” Ava said with a frown.

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment,” John smirked. She gripped his chin and his smirk dropped. “Did you come here for something, Ava?”

He had her there, and she didn’t like it. Why didn’t she have control? She was always in control. It was sort of her entire thing. Her lips parted, eyes darted down to his exposed torso. “To shower,” she said, stepping back. Her hands curled over the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head as she walked away from him. She stripped in a line toward his bathroom and then slipped inside.

John stayed where he was.

Ava turned on the water and stepped into the sizable shower, the etched glass wall showing the curves of her through the mist as the hot water touched her battle-ridden body. Bruises that were not from John blossomed over her left shoulder and hip. She rinsed the sweat and dirt off of her face and body and tried to keep her hair as dry as possible.

“Walker,” she said, voice raised over the water. “Join me.”

A simple order, nearly a request. He was on his feet in an instant, relieving himself of the rest of his uniform. She’d left the door open, the smell of soap filling the room.

He ducked inside the shower. Ava had sudsy hands and was cleaning her body with well practiced motions. She stood in the far corner, away from the stream of water.

He wanted badly to reach for her, pull their bodies flush, finally kiss her plush lips, but he felt the doubt creep through those thoughts even as they blossomed in his mind. Overstepping, he thought.

She nodded toward the water. “Clean up,” she instructed. He did, stepping under, washing away dirt and grime from the fight. She found herself greedily taking in his body in a way she rarely did before. He was a man, and they were all the same, and she had never before been totally enraptured by his physical form. Not that she was enraptured, but she did watch the bunching of the muscles in his back as he faced the water and scrubbed his hands through his hair.

They swapped places with a simple “Move,” so she could rinse off the soap covering her body, and then back again when he needed to do the same. The room was almost stiflingly hot. John was well on his way to being rock hard after watching her run her hands down her naked form.

He leaned his head back, eyes closed to rinse his hair one last time and felt Ava’s hands on his chest. He cracked his eyes open. She dragged her fingertips down his abdomen, eyes squinted from the flickering mist of water pounding against his shoulders.

It was exceptionally rare that she spent much time touching him during their many times fucking in the past few months.

“What do you want?” he found himself asking, a dutiful pliable submissive. As always, he would do whatever she asked.

She smirked, gripping his cock, stroking slowly. “You fucking me here,” she said as he grew throbbing hard under her touch. She’d never had shower sex before, never saw the appeal, but what was her times with John but a way to try everything she’d wanted to before?

“I can do that,” he murmured.

He raised his hands to her sides, waited for her to nod, and gripped her hip with one hand, slipping his other between her legs. Her lips parted and she leaned toward him as he stroked through her folds, pressed and circled her clit.

“Oh, good, like that,” she gasped out. Squeezed his cock, making him groan and move, crowding her to the corner. Her back hit the cool, wet tiles and his dick pressed against her hip. She dug her hands into his back, holding him in place as his fingers slipped and slid.

He watched her face etch with pleasure, tilted back against the wall. He wanted her to come undone, not because she was using him, but solely because he could.

She should have stopped. She usually did, wanting to stretch out her orgasms–putting them off so when she finally cascaded down from that high, it was momentous, but her body had other plans. Her leg lifted to give him better leverage and his fingers curled around the back of her knee to hold her in place, his other hand stroking her clit.

“J–Jesus,” she muttered, biting her bottom lip. She had almost said his name, which was a personal rule of hers to do no such a thing under any circumstances. Her body wanted to cave inward, and she curled her fingers around his upper arms, pressing her forehead to his chest, moaning when he pushed one, two fingers into her depths. “Fuck.”

Usually she gave more instruction, John found it easy to follow. Her nails dug into his skin and he couldn’t tell if that was a stop or a go sort of fuck. He fell into normal routine instead, ingrained in the lizard part of his brain that wanted nothing more than to please. “Is this good? Do I keep going?”

“Yes,” she gasped out and he curled his fingers inside of her. She whimpered. “Make me come.”

Instructions he could follow. She was so warm and wet, the sooner he made her come, the sooner she could let him fuck her, sink himself into her depths and find nothing but bliss.

He pumped his hand and nudged her clit in the way he’d learned she liked and she came to bits around him, hissing exploitives and nearly drawing blood from her nails against his skin.

“Good boy,” she praised, leaving a playful bite on his pec, the skin instantly turning red. She tilted back, her hand running over the hot head of his cock, spreading precum with her thumb and meeting his eyes.

“Can I, please?” he begged, hands circling her waist.

“You better.”

He lifted her easily and her legs slid around his waist. Their faces came close–a beat or two, a question, but it went unfulfilled. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kept her eyes steady on his face.

“So strong. Such a good–” he pushed her down over his cock, “–good soldier boy.” He shuddered and she clung to his shoulders. She knew he wouldn’t drop her, but she was out of anchors, having nothing to connect her to the world but him.

Which was both exciting and fearful.

Her heart leapt and a moan was pushed out of her as his hands guided her hips down against him fully. “Yes, good,” she nodded, “move, please, move, now!”

He did. She had a hold on him, and he moved her up and down by the hips. Her back bumped against the shower wall, mixing in the tiniest moments of pain as the pleasure filled the rest of her. Overwrought, she did what she rarely did and dipped her head against his skin this time. Sucked and bit his neck and he gasped and fucked her harder, one hand on the wall for support, the other moving her like she weighed nothing.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, his grip crushing. She tugged painfully on his hair. “Too strong. Don’t break me,” she told him, meeting his gaze.

John came back to himself, letting his grip of her go, but fully seated himself inside of her. “Feel too good,” he muttered, pivoting so his back pressed against the glass, one of her legs stretched down to give her leverage on her toes. He hooked his hand behind her other knee, slowly thrusting up into her warmth.

She tugged his hair a little and resumed making a hickey on his neck that she knew wouldn’t last. “Keep going slow,” she said against his skin.

He did, mostly because it was the only speed he could go, the drag of his cockhead against her walls intoxicating and almost too much, too slow.

“I don’t know how much longer I can,” he groaned out, tightening his grip on her leg.

She sank her teeth into his earlobe and he nearly cried out, grabbing her hips and keeping himself still inside of her for a beat, two. Her laughter in his ear sent shivers down his spine.

“Not yet,” she said and he nodded in agreement. She disappeared from his grip, his space, leaving his cock assaulted by the cold mist of water. He hurried to twist the faucet as she grabbed a towel and patted herself dry in the room. He followed, doing the same. He reached out for her waist and she allowed herself to be pulled against him.

Allowed a smile to spread across her face as he kissed her neck and rocked his cock against the swell of her ass.

“Bed,” she said, phasing and appearing in his bedroom. He tossed the towel aside and joined her. She leaned back, waiting for him. “Do you want me?” she asked, which she knew always got him going. As if questioning his intentions was all it took to drive him up a wall. Yes, it was always yes, he wanted her always.

“Yes.”

“I think you need a break,” she told him. “Make me come.”

He never had to be asked twice. Falling to a familiar position, gripping her soft thighs, wasting no time before diving his tongue into her wet cunt. She arched her back and cursed, gripping his hair, grinding down. He slid his arms around her hips, holding her in place as her legs tightened around his ears.

His tongue flicked and her hands left him no breaks for breathing.

“Good, so good, keep going, just—” gasp, “—just like that.”

He was a fast learner, knew just how to swirl his tongue and tease an orgasm from her like this, dug his tongue deep and felt her muscles constrict as she shook and shivered.

In a fevered rush, she sat and grabbed him, pulling him over her as she scooted back. Her hand called his erection back to full with a bit of touching. Legs spread around his hips, she guided him inside of her.

“Fuck, Ava,” he moaned.

She wriggled, pushing him deeper. “Don’t kiss me,” she reminded him, though their faces were close. He braced his arms around her and thrust.

They both gasped, breathing heavy and panting. She bit her bottom lip harder with every stroke, eyes closed, head tossed back, neck exposed. John could barely keep himself together.

She coaxed him with words–harder, faster, yes, god yes, right there, don’t stop–and nails digging into his shoulders. She hadn’t asked him to bruise her, like she usually did. He did so anyway, leaning over her, he curled around her form, face buried in her neck, where he could easily bite her skin.

“Good boy,” she panted, stroking the back of his neck.

“Fuck–fuck.” He backed up, taking her hips in his hands, thrusting faster inside of her. “I’m—fucking close. Holy shit.”

A gasp, a groan, a falter in the thrust.

Ava phased the exact instant that his orgasm hit. He cursed and had to thrust into his hand, the orgasm rolling through him. Ava perched on the bed a foot away.

“Fucking hell, warn me before you do that,” he growled out.

She tutted. While it would make no difference where he came–her body was far too unstable for reproduction–something about letting him come inside of her was just too personal. “You should just assume by now,” she said, though she did feel a little bad about it. It had felt exceptionally good today. She wondered briefly about the mythical state of being where two people came at the same time. Could not be her, and definitely not her and John.

But it still felt good enough for her–and him–to keep coming back.

He sat back on his heels and looked over her, sitting far too prettily in his bed.

She rarely rarely came to his room for sex. Her being here was new. He found himself enjoying the sight.

“I’m gonna go,” she said, breaking the spell and disappearing.

John stayed where he was, heart thudding, breathing slowly slowing. He was wondering if she’d fully just left, when she reappeared with a towel for him.

“Here.”

He took it with his least sticky hand. “Thanks,” he muttered.

She hesitated, eyes on the fading scratches on his back and arms. She wanted to run her hands over them, memorize their shapes.

What. No she didn’t.

“See you later,” she said, leaving him, grabbing her clothes and phasing away to her room on the next floor.

Chapter Text

(scene from original fic)

“But you did come crawling back.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me why.” She stood there, expectant, like this was a test.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he said, which was the truth.

She started walking around the room back toward him.

“Literally couldn’t stop myself,” he explained further. “I would have waited outside your door all night.”

“And when someone asked what you were doing?” she asked, amused.

“Lied.”

“Naturally,” she said with a smile. “You can’t stop yourself…”

“From thinking about you,” he adlibbed, filling in the blank. She was just a few feet away now, body encased in athletic shorts and a cropped sweatshirt. Her waist disappeared under the boxy hem and he wanted his hands there immediately, pressing against her skin. “I can’t stop.”

“Oh, Walker,” she tutted, right in front of him now. Was this the moment she told him it was all a joke, that she hadn’t meant for them to do this again, that he wasn’t worth the effort? He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he also would go fucking insane if she did. His breath caught in his chest when she reached up and grabbed his chin by his beard, tiny prickles of pain, and her shining light eyes staring up at him. “I can help with that. I’m feeling generous today.”

The tension in his body shifted.

“And you look so sad and tormented,” she added with a playful frown, tugging at his beard. “We can’t have that.”

ooo

BONUS SCENE

J: When can I see you?
A: it’s been literally 8 hours don’t you sleep?
J: Yeah but

(long long pause between texts)

J: Doesn’t change the fact that I want to see you.
A: 🥱 it’s a good thing you didn’t wake me up
A: training room 3

Ava arrived in the training room first, in casual comfortable clothes, her hair pulled back and the taste of coffee on her lips. Not a lot, but she needed at least a few sips to wake up before heading down here. The room was not the large combat chamber nor the gym area, but a room made for hand-to-hand sparring. Padding floors, padded walls, some boxing equipment. It as cozier than the combat room and Yelena routinely spliced the hidden cameras so it was one of the more private areas in the building.

She started stretching, hands above her head, bending down slowly to stretch her back, touch her toes, the whole deal. She was a big fan of yoga, personally, and her body loved stretching. Especially when she was sore from last night’s shag, her shoulders and lower hips and thighs covered in bruises. She winced a little at a particular stretch in her left shoulder where she knew the shape of John's teeth had left their mark.

“You know, for someone who was begging to see me, you really took your time,” she said as the door slid open and John waltzed in.

“I wanted to–”

“I don’t care,” she interrupted, waving a hand. She tucked some hair behind her ear as he stopped near her. 

John’s tongue darted between his lips and he was about to say something but ate his words when Ava grabbed his jaw. 

“You texted me at eight in the morning and made me wait for you?” She shook her head slightly, a diabolical little twist to the corner of her mouth appearing. John swallowed hard. “Time for me to wipe the floor with you.”