Love is often gentle, desire always a rage. ~Mignon McLaughlin


Somewhere in the little space that the Hulk inhabited in the back of Bruce's mind, the other guy settled down. For the first time since his accident, Bruce knew that the other guy would leave him alone. He didn't know why, but hoped it was because, perhaps, the monster was finally listening to what his human half said. Whatever the reason, Bruce silently thanked Big, Green, and Ugly for having pity on him. He wanted tonight -needed tonight; he needed this time with Stella not only to show her what he felt for her physically, but what he felt for her in his heart.

He thanked the big guy again, and locked the door behind him.

Stella wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him, her chin on his chest. "I'll be ready if our little friend decides he wants to interrupt."

Bruce smiled down at her. "I think he's going to leave us alone this time."

"I'm not really one for surprises, though," Stella purred sweetly. She kissed his cheek, but as she pulled away, a dim look of worry crossed her face. "I think I may have forgotten to tell you something."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, "It couldn't be that bad."

"I've never...done this," she said, averting her eyes. "I've never really had time. I've always played sports or been training, and doing this while you're training is bad for you. I'm not really big on seduction during missions, either - that's Natasha's specialty."

Bruce fought hard not to smile, even though he was now properly terrified. His heart jumped into his throat; she liked -maybe loved- him enough to let him be her first. He couldn't screw up this time, and he wouldn't. He kissed her forehead and tapped her chin lightly with his index finger.

"You're not training now, and I'm going to take very good care of you," Bruce hummed gently. He tugged the hair-tie from her braid and ran his fingers through the curled strands. "When I'm done with you, you'll never want anyone else."

"Bruce," she said, scraping her fingers along his back, "I don't want anyone else anyway."

Bruce slid his hands down her sides and pulled the tie from her bathrobe. It fell away from her shoulders easily and pooled in a pink cloth puddle at her feet. She was left in simply undergarments, easy work, but she had a bit more to work with if she wanted to undress Bruce.

She started to unbutton his shirt -curse all of his stupid button-downs!- and nearly succeeded in ripping some of the buttons completely off. Her fingers were trembling, and it seemed like slipping a little piece of plastic through a hole was horribly busy work. She reached the last button, and simply snapped the thread that secured it to the shirt.

Stella was going so slowly, agonizingly slowly, and it was killing him. It was the feeling of slowly coming apart, piece by piece. He was coming undone with every stroke of her fingers along his arms and chest, fighting back lust as she pushed his shirt off, watching the way her athletic body twisted and turned, the torturous sensation of her fingers nudging his tumescent length as she pulled at his pants. More than anything, above every little touch she gave him, he held the knowledge that his heart was melting with every sigh that spilled from her lips and every twitch and turn of her body.

It was all he could do to stay patient and not rip her undergarments off and fuck her in a most primal way. He had to keep it slow, and treat her like she deserved; there would be other times for rougher love. Besides, right now, he wanted to pull her into his arms and make love to her slowly -make her understand that he wanted to take care of her.

She made it seem like forever, but finally he stood nearly bare in his boxers as his dark gray pants formed a whirlpool with her pink bathrobe. He grasped her thighs and picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Her breasts pushed against his chest, shielded by an encasing of thick fabric and little hooks, and he decided that his next order of business would be to get that fucking contraption off of her.

His lips, another piece of himself that was seemingly beginning to work separately from his mind, found her mouth as he laid her down on the bed. He slid a bare thigh between her legs as he crawled into place of top of her, his chest sliding against skin and fabric. Desperation filled his thoughts, and he shoved a hand underneath her back and popped the snaps of her bra, flinging the infernal thing away.

Perfectly plump pale breasts spilled out, pink nipples protruding sharp and hard, tantalizing beneath his gaze. He planted light kisses down her neck until he reached her collarbone. Nipping at her skin gently, he licked at each sorely bitten area with reverence. Between his right-hand thumb and forefinger, he rolled a pretty pink nipple, flicking and circling it as he took the other one in his mouth. His tongue laved out, sucking the taste from her skin.

He looked up at her and saw her clench her bottom lip tightly with her teeth; she was doing her best to stay quiet. He couldn't have that, oh no. Silence was a terrible enemy.

He slid back up and kissed her again, running his tongue along her bottom lip. His lips trailed from the corner of her mouth to her ear.

"Can you do something for me?" Bruce whispered in her ear. He felt a nod, short and quick and desperate. "Don't be so quiet."

Her breathy reply was lost somewhere in a high-pitched moan. He slid his fingers in the waistband of her undies, her skin soft and pliant under his reaching fingers. Ever-so-slowly, in a somewhat vengeful way, Bruce slid her undies down. She strained against him, her pelvis digging mercilessly against his cock, hard enough to pull a rough groan from his throat. The muscles in his stomach clenched into a ball, and the burning, straining feeling in his waist could have brought him to his knees, had he been kneeling.

His lips trailed slowly down her clit, and he allowed his tongue to slip out just enough to taste her. The sharp intake of breath he heard made him smirk, and he ran his hand down her thigh. She shuddered violently as he threw her leg over his shoulder. One single digit, his index finger, glided over her heat, stopping just long enough to make Stella groan lowly. With that small, audible trophy replaying in his mind, he dipped that single digit in slowly, careful to move it as little as possibly. In and out, in and out, sliding up and down without an inch of friction, he stopped midway into her heat and twitched his finger. She cried out his name, as of yet unaccustomed to any sort of pleasure as that.

Stella's warmth burned his flesh and her soft whimpering made the roiling fire in his stomach scream against his muscles. She tensed against him, begging him without words to continue or to appease her misery.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Stella," Bruce rasped, nearly hoarse with his own desire. He teased her heat with a digit that wasn't inserted into her.

"Please," she whimpered softly. She couldn't quite say anything more.

"Tell me..." he said, teasing her further. She gave him a pleading look, eyes cloudy in her lust, and shook her head. He twitched his finger again. "Then show me."

Finally, finally, she remembered herself and tugged at the waist of his woefully still-worn boxers. He slid his finger out, grinning as she shuddered, and pushed her leg away from his shoulder to give her better access. She pushed the fabric away.

Bruce cornered her and kissed her again, claiming her lips with hard, careless kisses. His thick length rested against her thigh; she was absolutely feverish against his cool flesh. She writhed beneath him, angling her hips and squeezing his waist with her thighs. He positioned himself so that his cock rubbed against her core, just so that she moaned his name so, so softly. She ached for him in a way that she had never felt for anyone. She wanted him to slip in and take her, to reap the benefits of being with her. His thick, throbbing cock rocked against her, stiff and hard as stone.

He sat back on his knees and took her wrists, lifting her hands above her head. Pinning her wrists with one hand, he stretched out and held himself up with his free arm.

"Watch me," he murmured softly, burying his face in her neck. His tongue slipped out to taste her, to feel her skin tense beneath him.

He lifted his head just enough to stare into her eyes; the gray, fluid depths stared back at him, filled with so many things. He found a lot of trust, even more desire, and most of all he believed he found love. He hoped she saw the same things in his eyes.

With one heavy thrust, he pushed into her, sliding through all the barriers she had built around herself. She cried out his name, her fists clenched together in a tight tangle. Everything, all his doubts, all his thoughts, all the walls around him collapsed; her muscles squeezed him, tightening so deliciously hard around him as she tried to accommodate for his size. She strained against him as he thrust again, pulling back out and shoving in unrelentingly.

He groaned against her throat, her name pulling his lips apart in the middle of a mess of unconnected thoughts. He wanted her, needed her, and when she cried out again, he kissed her.

He thrust harder, faster, delighting in the sounds she made, reveling in the way she twisted against him, burying himself over and over again in her heat. He ground his hips down against her as he thrust, ripping a hard groan from her lips. He could feel himself quickly losing his grip, the rolling waves of climax edging nearer to him. He held it in, waiting until her heat screamed around him, until her muscles tore into him, until she moaned his name one final time. And then he left himself slip away and lost himself in the grip of climax along with her.

When she stopped trembling, she let out a long breath. His forehead rested against hers, his eyes coming up to meet hers again. She was searching them, praying silently that the other guy wasn't going to come through. Bruce knew without a doubt that the other guy was going to leave them alone this time; the Jolly Green Giant was too busy thumping victoriously against the walls of his cave.

Bruce rolled off of her and bundled her up in his arms. Her naked skin rested softly against his. He was completely and unrelentingly wrapped around her little finger.

Soon, she was breathing gently and evenly against his chest. She had found his hand and was grasping it tightly and holding it against her chest. Her soft, full breasts folded against his arm, and she was nice and warm in contrast to the cool air.

Bruce would have to actually tell her sooner or later what he felt. He hoped she already knew.


Bruce was tired, so, so very tired, but as he sat at the lab table, he couldn't stop smiling. Not even Tony and Steve's bickering could bring him down; he simply grinned at their antics and fiddled with the settings on the Tesseract tracker. He and Tony were so close to finding it; they were closing in, and right now it looked to be in the area of Europe.

Tony, however, was used to Bruce being quiet and mellow. He didn't quite know how to handle a happy Bruce, but he could certainly think of a few reasons why the adorable physicist (he could think of few other adjectives; Bruce was pretty cute) would be so happy. Probably got him a little somethin'-somethin' last night, which was more than Tony could say for himself.

Tony clapped Bruce on the back; a little bit of pride was welling up in his chest. "So how was it, big man?"

"How was what?" Bruce asked, trying to force back his grin.

"Dude, you can't even wipe that grin off your face," Tony scoffed. He pushed Bruce's work to the side and sat up on the lab table in front of him. "She must have given you something pretty spectacular."

"Well, I did have some pretty good cereal for breakfast," Bruce said. It was as close to actual teasing as Tony had ever seen him come.

"Come on, just tell me how you did it," Tony whined. "It's a biology question!"

"I don't know, Tony," Bruce finally replied. "The other guy just backed off for a while."

"Well, tell me how she was, then!" Tony persisted. What were simple guy questions to Tony were a bit more personal for Bruce.

Bruce gave in rather quickly to Tony's amusement. He was rather proud of his girl. "She was amazing."

Tony could hear something else in his science partner's voice. Against his normal choices, he stopped pressing on Bruce. "Glad you finally had a good time, man."

Bruce grinned at him. "Thanks."


Agent Ranger felt like she was going to die. At no time in her life had anyone ever worked her as hard as Agent Storm was working her now. No one had ever dared to make her work hard; she was the queen of every sport she tried, was top of every class. No one ever made her work because they didn't have to; excellence came naturally to her.

But this bitch was killing her.

Ranger was sure that Agent Storm had never been trained like this, but the tiny woman had the body of a longtime soccer player. She was muscular with thick thighs and toned calves and her torso was lean and compact. To wrap things up, she had the commanding voice of a soccer coach.

Storm had been making Ranger and Buchanan runs laps that day around the quarter-mile field. She had them doing a lot of strength training and endurance exercises. The gun range was used a lot, but not as much as the sheer physical torments. Hand-to-hand combat was also a personal favorite; Storm had not been joking when she said she had a killer roundhouse kick.

There was something else about Storm, though. It was the little things that belied her tough outward appearance to show that she had a softer center. She made sure they were drinking enough water, always made sure that anything strained or broken was wrapped, and always made sure that the two recruits had full, healthy meals.

Those gray eyes were something else, too. Buchanan loved them; he'd already told Ranger that they were enough to make him like her. Of course, he didn't mean in a romantic way (he was terrified of Dr. Banner). Ranger could see everything in Agent Storm's eyes. They were fluid, like smoke, and couldn't hide a single thing for people who wanted to look.

And today, Agent Storm couldn't stop smiling.

Ranger knew better than to ask; she'd get one of those terrifying looks and have to run more laps.

Finally, the two recruits were allowed to sit down and take a break. Ranger wasn't sure if all this crazy training was just building her up or if Storm was going easier on them, but the training wasn't so bad now. Ranger could make it back to her room now without crying from the pain. The scars and healing cuts on her knuckles from where they had been split so many times looked old now, and it didn't hurt so much.

As much as Ranger hated to admit it, Storm had been right about building them back up.

Ranger and Buchanan had yet to be sent on their first mission, though. Which was why they were surprised when Storm sat them down to give them their first assignment.

"In a few days, I'll be heading out with a team to Detroit for a quick mission," Storm began. They were all three resting on the workout benches in the gym. Stella laced her fingers together and rested her chin in the cradle. "I want you two to come with me."

"You think we're ready for that?" Buchanan asked. His gaze was stagnant, but his fingers were jittery. "What kind of mission is this?"

Storm stared at him, glancing from his green eyes to his nervous hands. "Those people that were after me are having a little get-together. We're going to break it up -the fun way."

Ranger was astounded. "An assassination mission?"

Storm's face told them nothing. "There will be six of us, including you two. The four experienced agents, myself and three others, will be sniping from the surrounding buildings. You two will be along for the ride, and that's it."

"Who are the targets?" Ranger asked. She had a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Two of them are drug kingpins hoping to make a new alliance. One of them is Frankie Zito," Stella said. "My ex-boyfriend."


A/N: I know this chapter is short, guys, but next chapter is going to be plot development. Everything is settling nicely into place; just as I intended for it to. Also, a couple of people raised the question as to how one effectively wears porn-pants; you'll get a better representation the next time I feel like letting them get a little wild. This one was not my best, but I haven't written anything like that in a while. I just hope you guys like it, because I really did enjoy writing it.

1/20/2013: I did a little creative editing to that lovely sex scene. I added around three hundred words or so.