A/n:

Pure smut. You have been warned!

Post-Rescue Burritos

Bobbi leans back against the arm of her couch, finishing the last of her burrito, legs stretched out over Hunter's thigh. Clean and comfortable in sweats and a shirt, she can't help but be thankful that at least part of her day off is going somewhat nicely, especially with Hunter massaging her feet like that. When his hand stills, she looks over with a raised brow.

"What?"

His forehead is furrowed, and she'll never admit it, but he looks adorable when he's trying to work something out in his head.

"I never told you where I was. Did SHIELD contact you for extraction? I thought it was a solo mission, no back-up…"

She snorts and draws her legs back, sitting up and leaning forward to thumb a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. Sucking on the finger, she smirks as he follows her gaze and swallows hard.

"I told you I can sense when you're in trouble, Sport." Her voice is low, husky, and she can see his pupils dilate in anticipation. "Did you think I was joking about that?" She moves forward again, lips hovering over the corner of his mouth and gently kissing off the last remains of sauce. "As for your location… You really need a better password for your VISA."

Her hand trails down his bare chest, admiring the planes and angles of his body, and comes to a rest just above the waistband of his grey sweats. She does like him in these… Her hand grazes over the tented front, relishing the soft material, and Hunter sucks in a strangled breath.

"I feel like I'm in trouble now," he whispers, a smile playing on his lips. "Don't we… Don't we have to wait an hour?" His hand snakes around her waist, pulling her closer even as she speaks.

"We could, " she muses, lifting a leg to straddle him. Letting out a long, soft sigh as she settles, her hips rock over him gently. " Or, we could explore that fetish of yours."

She hasn't even finished speaking when he cups her butt, pressing her flush to his already attentive member as he stands, the rest of his burrito forgotten. Bobbi smirks, wrapping long legs around his hips as he walks them to their bedroom. Arms slung around his neck, the heel of her foot nudges the waist of his sweats.

"Get undressed Sport." She sets her feet on the ground nimbly once in the bedroom, bending to draw something up from a bag by the bed. "I went back to the dungeon while you were finishing up with the agents." A pair of leather cuffs dangle from her fingers, and she grins at the look on his face before throwing him the leather boxers she'd finagled as well. "Two minutes."

One minute, twenty-eight seconds later, she clicks the lock on the collar around his neck and checks that the straps have been fastened securely to the bed frame. Standing back, collapsible baton with feathered tip in hand, she tilts her head and admired her handiwork.

"I rather like you like that," she hums, tapping her chin with the feather.

"What? Tied up? At your mercy?" he grumbles, but is clearly not unhappy with the situation.

"Something like that."

She struts around the bed, mostly parading for his enjoyment, making sure he can see every curve and swell in the tight leather and peekaboo fishnets. He groans, pulling against the bed frame, and she spins on her heel, eyes narrowing as she points the baton at him.

"Did I say you could move, Hunter?"

"No, but I-" He catches the look that says they're already getting started, and his eyes twinkle in excitement before dropping down. Voice meek, he shakes his head. "No."

"No, mistress ." She drags the feather across his abdomen, voice threatening, and sees him shudder in pleasure.

"No, mistress," he parrots obediently, biting down on his lips to stop a moan.

The sight of his restraint and those plush lips send a jolt of heat shooting to her crotch, and Bobbi leans down, thumb brushing his lower lip as she'd done earlier. "Uh uh. Those lips, those teeth- all for me. Understood?"

A whine in the back of his throat, and then fervent nods. "Yes. Yes mistress."

"Good," she purrs, sitting on the edge of the bed by his hip and trailing the feathered tip down the line of his nose. He twitches at the tickle, squirming, and she pinches his side. Oh, the firm muscle beneath the skin… Hunter mumbles an apology for moving and she continues the tease downward, leaning close to him when it brushes his lips, her hair curtaining them on one side as she hovers a hair's breadth above him.

"Bobbi," he whispers pleadingly, and there's a slight edge of desperation in his voice that sends a thrill through her.

"Not yet." But unable to help herself, she leans in for the kiss, intending for it to be a quick brush of lips before she moves on downward. She should have known better; Hunter has always been a consummate kisser. Warm lips pliant beneath hers, he returns the soft kiss with such fervour that she just can't pull herself away. Before she realises it, she's straddling him, baton forgotten, gasping at the give and take of the kiss that's always been one of her favourite things about him. A gentle sucking on her bottom lip and her lips part to admit his tongue, which at once teases and tangles itself with hers. Her hands come up to cup his face, his stubble scratchy beneath her palms.

"Hunter…" she moans quietly, pulling away just enough to nuzzle noses. "This wasn't the plan."

His eyes, half-lidded and so dark she can barely see the browns that she loves to drown in, search her face, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "Screw the plan," he breathes, and she feels his body wriggle beneath hers in a desperate attempt to feel more of her. "Who says we…" He swallows a whine as her hand trails down his neck over his Adam's apple. "Who says we have to follow a plan?"

"I do." She leans up, back stretching, making sure to brush the tips of her leather-covered breasts over his cheek as she kisses the pulse point of each wrist before giving him a devious smile and sliding further down on his body. Her butt wriggles along his bare abdomen, the fishnets creating a friction that makes him buck and grit his teeth.

"Bobbi…" he growls warningly.

" Mistress, " she corrects, stopping with her bottom pressed against his tip. She moves a little southward, holding back a soft moan as she rubs herself over the hardened head. Hunter however, curses like a sailor.

"Bob, please- "

"Careful, soldier," she drags out her syllables lazily. "Or I'll leave you here all tied up."

That shuts him up quickly, because he knows for a fact that she's not above doing that.

Smirking, she rocks on the tip a couple more times, hands caressing his muscled abs and feeling his skin bead with sweat from resisting the urge to move. She feels her blood quicken, a shudder running through her body, and with some force of effort, she stops and slides down his shaft to straddle his thighs instead. Hunter lets out his breath in a long whoosh, staring up at the ceiling and taking deep, measured breaths. She has to play it right, she thinks, thumbs rubbing circles along his inner thigh, closer and closer to the bulge in those boxers. Can't push him too much, otherwise they're both going to wind up unsatisfied tonight.

Her fingers hook in the waistband of those boxers, tugging down until he springs free with a groan.

"Somebody's excited," she remarks, her casual tone belying her own need. Moving to kneel between his legs, her finger swipes across the cleft, spreading the pearly-white liquid over the head. Hunter bucks and tenses, at once trying to get more and trying to squirm away from her touch.

"Bob- Mistress- please-"

She makes sure he's watching as she draws a thumb covered in the liquid across her lips and licks it clean, then slowly lowers her head down over him. She takes him in, licking the heated, delicate skin, until he reaches the back of her throat. The thought about spies having to control their gag reflex as part of training comes to mind as it always does, and then she stops thinking when Hunter tenses and shudders in her mouth. His tremors shoot right to her core and she fists the sheets to dispel the pressure. She doesn't need his gasps to tell her that she can't go on in this vein, not tonight; she doesn't think she can hold on for much longer, either.

With trembling thighs, she bobs her head once, twice, as a perfunctory measure, and pulls back up with a soft pop to see her ex-husband almost wild-eyed. His fingers are grabbing tight onto the leather cuffs as he tries to stop himself from shooting off right there and then, and for a fleeting moment she feels almost guilty for putting him through this.

Then a zrrrrrrrppp down her side , and she's shoving the leather sleeves off and trying to peel the fabric off her sweaty skin- dammit, this is the last time she's getting an outfit this difficult to get out of- and is bending over to peel down her fishnet stockings when there's a grunt from the bed. Bobbi looks up to find Hunter watching with an expression that looks like he's about to devour her.

"Keep them on," he breathes, voice a growl, and while a few minutes ago she would have chastised him for speaking out of turn, now her knees grow weak and she kicks off her heels, clambering over him and crushing her lips to his again. Her hands roam all over his body, fondling and scratching and caressing, and his skin feels like it's heating up under her touch. The bed creaks as Hunter desperately tries to touch her, and Bobbi straightens slightly, throwing her head back in laughter.

"Uh uh, Sport. You wanted a fetish, you got a fetish."

Ignoring his whimper of protest, she tries her best to slow things down. She sits back on her heels and straddles him once more, cupping her bare breasts and feeling their silky weight in her palms. Her thumbs brush over the rosy tips, feather-light, but the soft touch makes her shudder with goosepimples. Hunter moans something about torture, but she ignores him. Head thrown back, Bobbi arches, teasing the buds to a peak. Thighs tightening around his sides, she reaches between them to wrap her fingers around his heated length, unable- and unwilling- to continue the teasing much further.

She brushes the swollen tip against her already-slick entrance, coating it thoroughly, and in a few seconds she's breathing as hard as he is, arm shaking as she balances herself on his chest.

"Hunter." His name the smallest whisper on her lips, and then her breath catches as she guides him in smoothly, gaze locked onto his as she feels him stretch and fill her. She lets out a small whine at the back of her throat when he's seated to the hilt, and they stay motionless for a long moment, relishing their joining and focusing on every sensation between them.

She feels him pulsing within her, sees how his muscles are straining with the need to move, and strokes a hand down his bare chest. Taking that as her permission, Hunter grunts and jerks his hips, letting out a loud moan. Absurdly, Bobbi swallows the sudden urge to laugh- he's always so loud. But then he finds his footing and leverage to thrust, and she's the one who can't hold back her cries. Muscles quivering, their hips rock with each other, but as quickly as they fall into the rhythm that seems to come second nature to them, they start to spiral out of control. He pumps frantically into her, her name a litany on his lips, and she grinds down, fingers digging into his flesh as she fights for a semblance of control. His name is intertwined with strings of curses as she feels herself reaching an impossible cliff, and then she hears his breath hitch and his pace quicken abruptly. Panting harshly, her hand slides between them to drum on her nub, and then everything erupts in a cascade of blinding ecstasy.

Bobbi rocks out the last of her climax on trembling arms, then collapses in a boneless heap beside her ex, her flushed face pressed against his strong shoulder. Wordlessly, she kisses his skin, licking her lips at the salty tinge and tangling their legs together. To her surprise, a large hand tucks the sweaty locks behind her ear before cupping her face, drawing her up for a messy kiss. When they break apart, her fingers lacing with his over her cheek, she shakes her head, lips curved in disbelief.

"You can slip out of the straps?"

He laughs softly through his nose, eyes filled with tenderness as they trace her features.

"Told you I didn't need rescuing, love."