considers (
considers) wrote in
bakerstreet2016-03-13 09:16 pm
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Wedding Night
![]() The Wedding Night Meme a smut/shipping meme |
The wedding bells have rung - or the correct sacrifices have been made, depending on your culture. Whatever the case may be, you're married now, and the night is yours. However, there is one expectation on you: it's time to consummate the marriage. Whether you're in love, in this marriage because it was arranged, or absolutely in hate with your new spouse, you're with them now. Have you two been intimate before this, or is your first time...with them or first time period? Do you know what you want and are you full of lust, or do you have no clue what's going on? Maybe you even have to seduce your partner who wants nothing to do with this!
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She seemed at peace with what was happening, though, and that was reassuring. He wasn't going to push her, but if she got closer - physically, emotionally - he wouldn't back away. He could already tell that she was a very nice person to be around. It was easy to let his own barriers fall when they spoke, which was unfortunately something that most people never experienced.
The duration of the kiss was perfect: just long enough for him to truly realize that, yes, this was alright, he hadn't ruined things, but not so long that he felt embarrassed or confused about her intentions. When they parted his lips quickly formed a smile of their own, and he kept himself close, thoroughly enjoying the way she was looking at him.
If the circumstances had been different, he wondered, would they still end up like this somehow? They seemed a good match in almost every sense. A wave of protectiveness washed over him as he continued to look at her. She deserved only good things.
"Jemma," he said again, repeating her name more warmly now, as though he were more familiar with it because of the kiss they had shared. Then, more cautiously, he continued, "I want you to know - if I do something you don't like, please tell me. I only want to make you happy."
Despite the minimal time they'd spent together thus far, Bruce truly did care about her.
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She wanted so much to believe that.
Nodding to his words, she stroked her fingers against his cheek, her hesitant touch little more than a breath against his skin. His obvious affection toward her was touching. They were barely more than strangers now, but surely they could be more, could truly make this marriage work for real if even half of what she thought she saw in him was true. If even a fraction of what she thought she felt for him was true. "I will."
Jemma wasn't the most open sort of person, but Bruce made her want to be in a way no one had before. The hand holding her dress in place against her chest clenched slightly to hide her uncertainty. "If you wanted...."
The suggestion, the invitation for another kiss at least, for much more than that, died on her lips, but her gaze was hopeful.
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That didn't mean they were a perfect pair, of course. One night of soft touches did not a successful love story make. But the fact that they could have this at the very least made him feel warmer, more at peace with the world.
Darn it, Fury. The man had known this would happen, hadn't he? He'd probably made Maria create a whole chart about it, had her calculate the probabilities before making his final decision. It didn't matter now, though. They were married, and they had kissed, and now Jemma seemed to want him to kiss her again - and Bruce couldn't just turn down a request from his wife, now, could he?
A shy smile alighted on his lips as he leaned back in, kissing her with more confidence this time but remaining chaste. His thumb brushed across her cheekbone affectionately before he pulled back. Noticing that she had to hold her dress up, he murmured, "Maybe we should get changed? I think Pepper gave us pyjamas as a wedding gift." Matching ones, no doubt. Pepper was thoughtful about everything, in addition to being very romantic when given the opportunity.
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And the kiss itself was more than supportive of that imagination. A part of her wanted to just lose herself in it, forget about the world outside, and how strange all this was, but in the end she forced herself to keep her head about her, didn't immediately follow when he pulled away.
"Oh," she said when he suggested changing, laughing quietly at herself. She'd asked for his help doing just that, and then completely forgotten about it a second after the help was given. "Yes. Yes of course. That was very thoughtful of her."
It didn't escape her notice that he'd called Ms Potts by her name. She knew, of course, distantly, that Bruce was close with Tony Stark, but it hadn't really sunk in until that moment. Perhaps she'd have a chance to meet with him, if that was the case. Fitz would be so jealous.
Ducking her head slightly to hide her blush, Jemma reluctantly drew a step back. "Into something more comfortable, then."
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His own blush returned when he finally tore his eyes away and looked down at her, remembering just what he had suggested. "Wait here," he said, offering a shy smile, before walking over to the dressing table at the side of the room. Someone had laid their wedding gifts upon it before their arrival. It was easy to find the one from Pepper; the boxes were wrapped in matching pastel-shaded paper, one blue and the other pink.
Bruce picked up both boxes and returned to Jemma. He laid her gift upon the table with the champagne, careful not to knock anything over, before glancing over the at washroom. "I'll go get changed in there," he said, trying not to bring back the awkwardness that thoughts of nudity imparted upon him. "Let me know when you're ready and I'll come out." He smiled at her again, though it was a little more hesitant this time.
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So she just nodded, and waited for him to disappear before heaving a sigh and undressing as quickly as she could manage. Which, really, wasn't very quickly at all. The dress came fairly easily and she was able to step out of it, leaving her shoes in the centre of the heap of fabric, but her stockings caused her more problems. She would never understand things like garters, and rather than something sensible she'd been dressed in ones that ended at her thighs and had needed to be taped in place.
Her hair caused her as much trouble, dropping at least half the pins she found, and pretty sure she hadn't gotten them all.
Dressing again was much quicker, though Jemma wasn't certain the silk shorts and camisole that fit a little too tightly around her bust that were in her box really counted as pyjamas, and as she finished she called out, moving to sit comfortably on the end of the bed.
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Being somewhat distracted, it took him a little longer than usual to fumble with the buttons on his jacket and shirt. Once he had his clothes off he opened up Pepper's gift, expecting something nice yet practical, in typical Pepper fashion. Instead, he saw something that made his stomach drop.
Inside the box were a pair of beautiful green-hued pyjama bottoms, made of silk no doubt. But in place of a matching shirt there was only a note, with the words Have a good wedding night! hastily scrawled in writing that belonged to one Tony Stark. There was even a winky face.
Bruce took a deep breath in, then exhaled through his nose slowly. At least Tony hadn't stolen his pants. It could've been worse. He crumpled the note and tossed it in a nearby garbage can before sliding into the pants. They felt incredibly comfortable, but that didn't help make him less self-conscious about his exposed upper body.
Now, he didn't have the worst body confidence in the world. Bruce was fairly certain he was at least decently attractive. But he was older, and a scientist, and those two things didn't exactly equate to killer abs. Not that Jemma would mind, probably, but it would've been nice to impress her at least a little.
When he had folded his wedding clothes and tucked them neatly inside the box, he knocked on the door a couple of times and called, "Can I come out?", waiting for a confirmation before opening the door and looking up to give Jemma a shy smile.
The smile died half-formed, though, because the sight of her in those clothes made his mouth dry up and his brain go hazy.
"You," he attempted, "You look - really nice." Wow. Good job, Banner.
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So she smiled, a blush in her cheeks, tucking her now loose hair behind her ears. "I'm afraid they could fit better," she noted, refraining from gesturing to her chance, the glance down doing that for her. "And I'm used to something a little more...modest."
She wouldn't actually complain about it, of course. It was a very thoughtful gift, and one she hadn't expected. She ought to at least get one night's use out of them, before reverting to her own items, equally soft but much more to her own taste.
It was difficult to feel uncomfortable, though. At least not to the fault of what she was wearing. Because, it seemed, Bruce had suffered a similar fate but looked much more attractive in the results. Jemma felt like a little girl playing at being innocently sexy or some such, while he looked as though he was meant to be dressed that way. And with a physique that was nothing to be ashamed of, and honestly preferable to other well known heroes who seemed so unattainable, it was difficult to focus the way she felt she should.
Despite their sudden marriage, despite the kiss they'd shared, it seemed ridiculous to think that Bruce would want anything more than that from her, and she was intent on not pushing anything.
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Maybe it was time he stopped being so passive. When he looked at her he saw her beauty, of course, but he also saw how small she was, the thinness of her wrists and ankles, not unhealthy but still so small, so breakable, like a bird. He felt something stir deep within, something that was not entirely himself, and in that moment he knew he'd do whatever it took to protect her. Not out of love - not yet - but out of genuine care and respect. She deserved to be safe and happy. If she was stuck with him for the foreseeable future, that meant it was his duty to give her those things.
Feeling more purposeful, he made his way back across the room and sat down next to her, keeping a couple of inches between their bodies but also leaning in to brush their shoulders together lightly. He was still self-conscious, but that seemed to be less important now that he was close to her.
He kept his eyes on her face, getting caught up again in the structure and angles there. There was something mathematical about her beauty; he felt he could distill it into logic, create a perfect formula. But he wouldn't. He wanted to keep this bit of science to himself.
"I'd really like to kiss you again," he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop to think and second-guess them. A flush rose on his cheeks but he smiled nonetheless, feeling just a little more confident now.
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Her smile was affectionate, the warmth of his shoulder against hers pleasant. And then he said he wanted to kiss her, and Jemma could only blink at him for a moment.
"Oh." How was she supposed to respond to that? How did she want to respond to that? It seemed pointless to be thinking about it like it was some big, terrifying thing, particularly now, after they'd already done that much together, while they were meant to be enjoying wedded bliss and were, all else aside, sharing this room. Her thoughts flickered across her face briefly, and her expression finally settled into the same affectionate smile she'd shown before he'd spoke. "I'd like that."
He was rather good at it, and the sense that he genuinely cared poured through it. That was enough for her.
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Even though they'd reached this point - intimacy, a removal of clothing, a clear amount of trust built up between them - Bruce was still wary of overstepping some boundary. It wasn't that he was afraid of women or worried about her not liking him; no, she seemed to like him well enough by now that that particular fear had been laid to rest. He was more concerned with pushing too far.
She seemed capable of telling him so, though, and he trusted her not to lie, especially about her own comfort and happiness. So, with all those emotions settled inside of him, he leaned forward to capture her lips once more, one hand reaching forward to cup her cheek. He was a little less chaste this time, spurred on by the sight of her, trying to find out where the boundary between them was.
It was for scientific purposes, really. Things would work better between them when they figured out exactly what the other wanted, needed, and expected. Then they could compromise. Then they could make this marriage work. Until they found that line, though - well, he was going to allow himself to kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed: not by a shy, awkward man, but by her husband, full of awe and respect and devotion.
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It might seem reasonable to just talk about things. Or it would, if Jemma had any idea what her level of comfort with all of this was. She was in completely uncharted territory. It was going to take some experimentation to find what they both wanted from whatever relationship this was. Talking could come later.
For the moment, Jemma was content to let herself sink into the kiss, returning it with youthful eagerness. His hand on her cheek warm, the same not quite rough patches from too many hours in the lab as her own hands had contrast against her smooth skin. Her own hand lifted, hesitating a moment before coming to rest on his bare chest, hoping desperately that it wasn't a step too far, too soon, hoping he wouldn't mind her forwardness.
There must be a line they couldn't cross, and she worried about being the one to find it. Feared being the one to push too much, not think enough, and frighten him away from her. They'd developed a good rapport and a tentative friendship over the short time they'd spent together before the wedding. Jemma couldn't bear the thought of being the one to damage that. It must be hard for Bruce, she imagined, to develop real connections. If they were lucky, and if she was careful, she could be that to him.
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The press of her hand against his skin made him shiver pleasantly, his lips tugging upwards into a soft smile as he continued to kiss her. He pressed his palm over the back of her hand to reassure her that yes, this was good, before he allowed his hand to slide slowly up the length of her arm, mapping out the smooth skin there before coming to rest lightly against her shoulder. His thumb played idly with the strap of her camisole, not removing it but hinting that such an action could be undertaken if she so desired.
He only pulled away when the need for a break became evident, and even then he did so reluctantly. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, the colour caused equally by excitement and shyness. He opened his mouth to speak, but then realized he wasn't sure of what to say. As he sat there, his face still close to hers, he felt a stirring in his chest, that same need to protect and take care of her that he'd felt earlier, only stronger.
"Jemma," he managed at last, his voice quiet and earnest. "If you want anything - " he gestured to the both of them before continuing, "Here, or anywhere, please tell me. I won't do anything unless you want me to."
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She was quiet for a second, leaning her forehead against his. She enjoyed kissing him, certainly, and his touch did make her pulse rush, make her skin feel electrified. She could feel the heat spreading through her and knew what it all meant. More than just attraction, desire. It would be only too easy to let herself succumb to it. It should be easy. Bruce was kind, and gentle, had chased away all concerns about spending time with him. He'd certainly endeared himself to her, and sexual attraction, well, that had been there from the very start. She wasn't blind to how handsome he was.
It could be easy, Jemma decided quickly, and smiled, tilting her face to brush her lips against his again, quickly. "And if I want for you to do whatever you'd like?" Boldly, her hand traced down his chest, across his abdomen and around his side as she watched his eyes. "You have my word that I'll stop you if I'm uncomfortable. If you'll promise me the same."
Perhaps, since their entire relationship had been built backwards anyhow, they could develop something through being physical.
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Her boldness surprised him as well, and he found his eyes widening as she looked up at him with those eyes of hers - those courageous, vulnerable eyes. Her touch left him shivering, and the anticipation he'd been holding back finally fought its way past its repression. He licked his lips quickly, trying to think, but he was lost in the physicality of her, in the way she was looking at him.
She wants you, his mind realized. Not because he forced it or because of their situation or anything else. She genuinely wanted him.
"I promise," he murmured, nodding faintly. The possibilities that lay before them made him feel dizzy with excitement. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, but the future seemed so open, suddenly, so full of potential - the two of them together would be a force to be reckoned with.
He shifted slightly, then leaned forward to kiss her again, his shyness quickly disappearing as her hand warmed his skin. His palm came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her smooth skin affectionately, before sliding into her hair. His other hand, still on her shoulder, finally made good on its silent promise and gently tugged at the strap of her camisole, slipping it off of her shoulder only to replace it with his fingers, which played along her collarbone curiously.
He wanted her. He wasn't ashamed of it any longer; it wasn't wrong. As long as she allowed him to, he would show her that.
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These were far from normal circumstances, and it should have been startling how much she'd come to care for Bruce in such a short time, how quickly his gentleness had soothed away all her reservations and fears about what this, whatever this, was.
She sighed softly, leaning into the kiss, returning it eagerly, coaxing him in closer. Jemma wasn't particularly assertive, but she did know what she wanted and had no problems making that clear. Her hands slid gently over his torso, tracing muscle and scars with the tips of her fingers, slowly working her arm around him.
Cautious, though, not to push for too much too soon, she made sure to take her time of it, hyper-aware of his fingers against her collarbone. Anticipation built inside her, her body responding to the simple touch, but her mind insisting that she couldn't simply force his hand down her chest where she wanted it to go.
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They were human, after all. These sorts of desires were completely normal. His fears - being too old, not handsome enough, not good enough - were wiped away as he felt her lips moving against his own. She was eager for this, he could feel it in the way she leaned towards him, in the way her palms smoothed over his skin. Her touches gave him confidence, and after a moment the hand he'd placed on her collarbone slid downwards to cup her breast, the silk of her camisole smooth against his fingertips. It was a ghost of a touch, light and shy, ready to move away should she want him to, but within himself he felt the urge to squeeze, to feel her.
He deepened their kiss, his lips parting to allow his tongue to press forward, seeking admittance. A hunger was building inside of him and he knew that, if they continued, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for very long. He wanted to press himself against her, to devote his body to hers in a way that no one else ever had.
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Her tongue moving against his, she shifted on the bed, pulling herself closer to him in a burst of bravery fuelled by the spark of arousal. The motion pressing her breast more firmly into his hand, a silent assurance that yes, it was alright, he could do much more than that if he wanted, she wanted much more than that. There was no reason to be shy about it now. It seemed clear that they both wanted this. She'd never dreamed of being there, like that, with him, but in the moment there was nowhere else to be.
Hands continued moving across his skin, slow and deliberate, her hands not as delicate as they looked. They were an extension of everything she was right then, determined and curious and gentle, inching forward as she sought the line, searched for the furthest point she could get without pushing too far. She didn't want to wait, but after everything Bruce had been through over the last several years it felt like it might be too fast to simply dive in at her own pace.
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But being able to choose this meant they had some measure of control over what had happened to the both of them. Choosing to touch, to explore, to accept the other without conditions or restrictions - it was important. Thinking about it made Bruce shift closer, made him grow more confident, more eager than ever before.
He continued to kiss her for a long moment before finally breaking away to breathe. He kept their faces close, though, and his lips found themselves kissing at her cheek, along the line of her jaw, down her neck, claiming the skin for himself. "Jemma," he murmured, saying the name more possessively now, as though by speaking it aloud he could bind her to him in a way no one else could.
The hand on her breast hesitated no longer; he squeezed at her flesh enthusiastically, hoping to draw some sort of response from her. His free hand wound itself around the back of her neck and up into her hair, fingers carding through the brown strands, gripping gently before letting go.
He shifted against her touch, wanting more, wanting her to know that he was ready for whatever she wanted to do. He didn't care about waiting anymore; he wanted this now, wanted to claim this as their own, as the one thing that belonged only to them.
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Her head tilted slightly as his lips moved down against her neck, offering more to him, a soft gasp escaping her as his fingers grasped her hair. Not a sound meant to push him away in the least, but rather one that expressed pleasure and appreciation, both of that and his newly discovered enthusiasm in fondling her. Her camisole felt even tighter than it had to begin with, and her nipple stood hard against his palm.
Arousal made her bold, sent her into actions she wouldn't have otherwise even considered. She didn't want to wait, it seemed clear enough that neither did he, and so Jemma was determined to give them both what they wanted. She wriggled a little to adjust her position, and quickly just moved so she could straddle his lap, pulling their bodies closer together, pressing against him with the same eagerness she'd approached everything else so far. There was no trace of hesitation, or anything more than affection and lust, as she dragged her hands across his skin, unable to stop touching and unable to settle them in any one place.
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Her own hands made his skin burn wherever she touched him, no doubt a side effect of not having done this in far too long. He felt himself grow harder beneath her and he knew it was obvious to her just how much he was enjoying the intimacy. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, the words coming out in a rush between kisses, his voice low and rough with desire. How a woman like Jemma had somehow ended up here, wanting him, wanting this, he would never truly understand - but he wasn't going to squander this chance now that it had finally been given to him.
His hands slipped around her waist again, squeezing almost possessively, before slipping up beneath the fabric of her camisole. As they moved they gathered the material, before finally tugging it up and over her head and tossing it aside. As soon as her skin was revealed Bruce's face dove towards her chest, where he pressed kiss after kiss to the top of her chest and along her collarbone, completely entranced by her. His palms returned to her breasts, squeezing and rubbing them with a mixture of eagerness and affection, and a happy sort of growl left his throat, unbidden.
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It was nice to pretend that they were a real couple, and that he really thought she was beautiful, and that all of this was more than what it was. More than just a choice to act on physical desires.
The moment her camisole was off her body, she slid her arms around his shoulders, stroking them, up his neck and down his arms, mindful of allowing him space to move as his lips fell to her chest and his hands returned to her breasts. The combination of attentions and the obvious hardness between them sent wave after wave of pleasure through her, and the growl that reached her ears very nearly took her breath away completely. He was enjoying this as much as she was, that was clear enough, and she answered the noise with a similarly happy and breathless giggle, wiggling encouragingly in his lap.
She'd said whatever he liked, and though she hadn't really expected him to want what she did, she was more than just pleasantly surprised that not only did he want it, he seemed very skilled at doing it.
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He hoped she could believe him when he called her beautiful, because she truly was. It seemed as though she may not have been spoken of in that matter enough times, which made him want to repeat it again and again until she heard the truth in his words. Even if they had never become intimate, he would still know it to be true.
If anything, her giggle and the accompanying movement of her body pushed Bruce to continue. She seemed to be enjoying this, and he wouldn't think of stopping unless she clearly seemed to want it. Whatever the reasoning behind it, he was determined to make this good for her.
His lips pressed down along her breast, over the gentle slope of it, before he caught her nipple between his lips and tongued at it playfully. A roll of his hips drew away any doubt as to the effect she was having on him, and after a moment more of caressing her waist his hand drifted south, fingers seeking out the warmth nestled between her thighs and pressing gently against her womanhood through the cloth of her pyjamas.
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Short minutes had changed fear to trust and duty to desire.
Her hands continued to stroke his skin, pausing once as she gasped softly at the sensation of his lips on her nipple, fingers pressing into him as a shock of pleasure and anticipation jolted through her in response. Pausing again with an equally soft moan when his hand slid between her legs. Even through the thin layers of silk shorts and lacy panties beneath them, the pressure and heat of his hand had Jemma rocking her hips to seek out more. Then she couldn't resist what she wanted any longer, and worked one of her own hands between them, to slip her fingers beneath the waist of his pyjamas, just enough to tease, to make her intentions clear.
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He was so wrapped up in watching and touching her that he didn't realize what she was doing until he felt her hand slip beneath his pyjamas. The sensation made him react instantly, his length growing harder than ever and his own hips pressing up to meet hers. An impatient sound rumbled in his throat and he leaned forward to kiss her deeply.
Then, with as much care as he could muster given the distractions clouding his judgment, he maneuvered them so that Jemma was on her back and Bruce was above her. He kissed her again as his hands grasped the fabric of her pyjamas, tugging it down past her hips and along her legs. He only pulled away so that he could discard them completely, then returned, his lips seeking out the skin of her waist and belly, his hands smoothing themselves over her thighs.
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