Scott Summers
“This is stupid.” Scott Summers, you’ve come to find out, is a very, very stubborn man. An extremely stubborn man who, especially when embarrassed, likes to lash out. Even at you, the person he goes to bed with every night. The person who wakes him up with a kiss first to his forehead then over his nose and cheeks until he wakes up. The person who lets him take your hand when a particular mission did something to really shake him but he can’t let the others see it. You, who he was currently looking at through the glasses he always wore in the down time at the mansion while he was seated against the propped up pillows on your shared bed. It was tucked neatly into a corner to offer the most room possible in the center. You normally took the side against the wall when you both slept, aware of when he often couldn’t sleep or would get up to check on a disturbance of some kind.
But you had grown used to how Scott acted and instead of being offender in the way he spoke, you just laughed softly as you stood at the end of the bed.
“If it’s so stupid you shouldn’t have agreed to it.” You teased him lightly. You got to watch how his jaw tightened just slightly, his crossed arms wrinkling the already messed up shirt that had been untucked in the path to the bed when you had both laid hands and lips on one another. His hair was untucked too and swept back and aside with strands sticking up from your own hand, his belt partially undone where it settled over his lap. Although his posture was tense you could see him relax slightly when you kneeled on the bed. He had managed to work off your pants halfway before you had nudged him onto the bed and away from you, much to the pouting man.
“Doesn’t mean it’s any less stupid.” He stated simply, but he eased when you brought yourself closer and closer. It was surprisingly easy to distract such a hard focused man. While you hadn’t expected it in the early days of your relationship with him, it turned out that simply flashing him some less than family friendly eyes and whispers could get him distracted from anything. As terrible as it could sound, he was easy to manipulate with your sex appeal should you wish to. It helped when he tried to argue or you wanted to make a point on something. At least, it did until he started to catch on. Now you had to work for it to distract the man, such as settling yourself between his spreading legs and letting your hands trail just over his chest. Both of his arms dropped and those warm hands found the dips in your hips to pull you into another kiss. With him raised up and off the pillows his chest pressed to your breasts and you released the softest moan into the kiss. He was as aware as you were that your bra had also been abandoned, meaning the only thing keeping him away from your breasts was the thin sleeping shirt he had bought you as a gift months ago.
One of his hands started to inch up your side but you caught it before it brushed under your shirt and pressed it to his own stomach instead. He tensed and the kiss broke as you peppered smaller ones on his jaw. Your free hand pressed to his chest and guided him back into the pillows.
“If you really don’t want to…” You started to say, but you felt when he shifted under you and gave you the full view of him laid back, head and shoulders braced against a pillow.
“I didn’t say that.” He quickly said. When you looked down at him you became aware of the faintest pink trying to take root on his cheeks and his head tilted just away. A sign he was no longer looking at you. “Just…” He sounded uncertain and you took some pity as you kissed down his jaw to his neck.
“Color?” You asked. He bristled briefly then settled again, like a startled cat succumbing to an owner’s touch.
“Green.”
“Good,” You remained perched over him, but your chest was no longer against his. Instead, you angled so you could rest your cheek against his shoulder to look down where his hand remained on his stomach, fingers twitching. “Slowly, reach down and touch yourself through your underwear.” His sharp inhale greeted you. But it wasn’t the one that signified he was about to argue or disagree about something, but it was the one that signified his like for something. Particularly his like for you. His hand was slow and uncertain when it eased down the length of his stomach pausing just at the waistband of his underwear before it eased past the opened portion of his pants and belt. Unzipped and unbuttoned, you could make out the beginnings of his erection pressing firm against the soft material of his briefs. It twitched under his own touch and a small noise escaped the back of his throat as he began to palm himself. The movements were slow and clumsy at first, like he had actually never gone through with touching himself before, but as you watched his erection grow his movements steadily grew to a more practiced motion.
You continued to kiss at the junction of his neck and hum when he made a small noise.
“Feel good?” He nodded against you. “Slowly use your thumb to push his briefs down.” He started just a little too fast and your hand traced along the length of his arm. “Slower.” Where you touched muscles twitched and he sighed as he followed your words. Slowly, he pushed the tight waistband down, down, down. The base with trimmed hairs just starting to grow back in was exposed first. Then the length of the shaft that continued on and on, lengthy veins starting to make themselves known until the edge caught just on the edge of the tip before he gave a tug. He was fully erect when it sprung back up, the tip turning a rosy pink. His sharp inhale was satisfying.
“Leave them there.” He had started to wiggle his briefs and pants down further, but you stopped him just in time to have it digging into part of his exposed sack. The pressure made the skin turn a slight red, but he wasn’t complaining. His legs shifted and parted and Scott shivered under your touch when you shifted with him to spread his legs with your knees. “Now, start at the tip.” You were calm with your instructions, but the heat pooling between your legs was anything but calm. Your underwear was going to be soaked through when this was over and Scott seemed to be aware of that as well when you spread your legs for him. Hell, you were already so soaked if he didn’t notice he was a blind man. His hand returned and he pressed his thumb and fingers to the edge of his foreskin and slowly peeled it back. He was breathing harder when it pulled back over the tip and pre-cum started to bead and gather from the motion alone. Under your eyes his thumb rubbed under the edge of the tip, making the entire length of him twitch in his hold and his breathing stutter out into a stifled hiss against your hairline.
“Don’t stay quiet.” You told him. You felt when he swallowed and his thumb rubbed along the edge once more until it teased the wet slit. That’s when he gasped, a little less restrained, and let his head rest against your own and the pillows.
“Come on…” He started, the softest noise escaping him when he swiped his thumb over the slit again.
“Sounds like someone doesn’t normally take this long, hm?” He didn’t respond at your accusation, but the way he was squirming at just the beginning of such teasing gave him away. Your grin could be felt against his pulse point and you let your hand drop to his chest to pull his shirt up higher. That little red happy trail of his always drew your eyes after all. “I’m on the mark with that one, right? You don’t ever have time though, isn’t that what you tell yourself? That you never have time? Oh, Scott, good things come to those who wait.” He made a noise caught between a disagreement and pleasure and his head fell back again when he swiped once more. “Stroke yourself.” Just as he started to grasp himself you suddenly took his wrist, making his entire body lock up. He didn’t pull at your grasp at all, just let you guide his hand away from his cock and towards your spread legs. When you turned him palm up and pressed it flat against your soaked underwear. Scott made a noise like he was choking on the breath he just sharply inhaled.
“Can’t stroke yourself with a dry palm, right?” You asked it with an open, hot mouthed kiss to his neck as you dragged his palm and fingers back and forth. Those fingers twitched and when they curled to press through your underwear you ‘tsked’. “No, no, not yet.” He huffed and you pulled his wet hand back to let go of the wrist. “There you go…”
Scott’s chest was moving quickly when his wet hand finally touched his cock, fingers curling to hold it as it pulsed and twitched just from the hold alone. You weren’t sure if it was the build up or the action you had just caught him off guard with, but the moment Scott’s hand closed around his cock his head fell back and to the side as he gasped and finally, finally let out a soft moan. At the noise you pulled back and off of him to rest on your haunches.
He looked a mess.
His other hand had come up to steady his glasses when you moved, a natural movement he’s practiced since his youth. It wasn’t something he thought of before he did it, unlike the way his hand jerked a little too hard and made his legs pull up before dropping out again at the motion. His face and neck was flushed, lips parted and sweat shining on his forehead. Where his head has been tossing back and forth his hair was ruffled.
When he realized you were looking at him his lips snapped shut and he tried to steady his heavier breathing.
“Good boy, look at you. Taking it slow for me, right?” Your words broke the facade he tried to hold, head tilting up and back as he moaned into the air. His hand jerked again then set to a slow, rolling pace as he twisted his wrist on the upturn. Every stroke pushed and pulled at his foreskin, dragging it back and forth over the tip on the longer strokes and making the pre-cum dribble and wipe off. “Tease yourself, slower, thumb the tip, Scott. There you go.” You were whispering it and your hands were on his chest and stomach, fingers ghosting to feel how the muscles twitched and spasmed in his stomach. Playing with the curls of his happy trail you satisfied yourself to watch how his head tilted back further then forward to watch his own hand like he couldn’t believe it. Over your knees you could feel when his legs spasmed and flexed and tried to close, blocked by your presence as your hands continued to trace patterns across his twitching body.
He looked beautiful. He looked like he was slowly falling apart right in front of you. He looked like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
It was perfect.
“Doing so good for me, aren’t you?” He shuddered and nodded his head. With how his hand didn’t even try to grasp his glasses now you knew his eyes had to be shut. This was confirmed only once the glasses edged further down the bridge of his nose and you reached up to steady them and guide them just a little away. Just so they wouldn’t be harmed. He moaned again and you were aware of his pace almost picking up before he slowed himself down, the arm stroking flexing with the restraint. “Do you want to come?” When you asked he just nodded. “Verbal, Scott.”
“Yes!” He hissed between clenched teeth and this time he threw his head back further until it bumped into the wall. He didn’t notice or care and just opened his mouth to gasp and moan a little louder. “Please, please, please.”
“Faster.” You ordered and he was quick to obey, that red tip disappearing in his palm at a quicker pace, leaking over his flexing fingers. His hips were raising and dipping to chase the pleasure. “Faster.” You ordered again, breathlessly, and he could do nothing but obey. Scott’s body was lighting up, a blush spreading and coating him as his body began to jerk and twist and buck into his own hand like it was your own. He fucked into his palm like he could imagine fucking you and that might just be what he was doing. Imagining it was you atop him. Imagine you were bouncing and riding against him and driving him just to the edge.
“Come, Scott.” You ordered and watched how his eyelids fluttered with movement behind them and he was arching completely off the bed. Like your command was all that he needed, his hand jerked himself once, twice, three more strokes before he was exploding over himself. Shots of white painted his stomach and up to the dip of where stomach muscles met his diaphragm and his entire body shook. You felt it against you and felt it through the bed when he quivered, continuing to stroke and milk droplets until he had nothing to give before letting his cock go to flop into a small trail of his own release.
Those desperate gasps turned into softer pants with his moans finally worked into small grunts whenever his cock still twitched, like it was trying to find more to offer. His hand settled against his lower stomach and he sighed heavily. All the tension from before melted from him and he sank completely into the pillows and bed. Your hands stroked carefully over his shoulders and along his neck as you bent to kiss him. A slow, tender stroking of lips that broke as you hummed and smiled at him. He licked his lips.
“Was that so stupid?”
“Glasses.” He said quickly and simply, choosing to not even acknowledge you. Your laugh was soft and he waited until you passed the glasses into his awaiting hands, which shook when he secured them onto his face. You could tell when his eyes opened and he could once again see you, because he tilted his head a certain way and didn’t hesitate to lean up and in for a kiss. Then another. And another. His hands settled low and against your thighs as he tugged until one was being pulled up and over his, the drag of his pants sending shivers. When this kiss broke and he tugged the other leg up to have you straddling him, he muttered. “Your turn.”