Work Text:
Dr. Hubby: You know I don’t enjoy surprises. They stress me out.
You: Well you’ll enjoy this one, if you know what I mean ;)
Dr. Hubby: Just tell me what it is.
You: Just be here at 8 Bruce 😒
You quickly responded.
Maybe telling him you had a surprise wasn’t the best idea. You knew he’d be anxious about the thing all day. But all was well, because you didn’t plan on telling him what it was now.
Speaking of what it was, you rustled through the plastic bag that clung loosely around your wrist. It was solid black for what you imagined was for discretion since the contents weren’t so innocent.
The little pink box you pulled out was decorated with a fancy purple font and a tiny white cat, whose eyes were electric. Menacing the thing was, but the pink pussycat guaranteed pleasure.
“Take one hour before intercourse. Drink at least 16 ounces of water…” You mumbled, as you read the instructions aloud.
Not that you two needed the aid of the supplement, but after the promising reviews and not to mention your best friend swearing by it, you wanted to give it a try.
After all why wouldn’t you, after this comment you saw on their instagram page,
Littytitty420 commented My pussy had its own heartbeat shortly after I took this pill. My sheets were drenched, and I drained my partner of every bit of energy they could offer. The only bad thing I have to say is that it is crucial to drink plenty of water. Ignore that 16 ounces shit, you’ll need to hydrate consistently throughout the day. Trust me: it will save you the trouble of water breaks between your fuck sessions. So start chugging now, sis. Also WARNING: DO NOT take this pill if you are not prepared to fuck for your life. IT LASTED 68 HOURS FOR ME, and my partner was spent after two! So be warned, that bullet will not satisfy you, you’ll need a human sized bag of meat!
“I’m sold.” Was what you said, shortly before deciding to make the trip to your local adult toy shop.
If I were to ask you to describe your sex life with Dr. Banner in one word, you would say “relaxed” in a heartbeat.
Banner took his time with you. And for good reason too. It took a lot of convincing on your part, for him to even consider the act of sex. But with a lot of time, patience, communication and trust, you two eventually made love. A lot.
With perfection comes practice, you always said. Suffice to say, you two practiced a lot. Every time you “practiced” you took it a step further than the last. And now, you were convinced that tonight was the one that you had spent all this time practicing for.
You had a detailed agenda for the evening:
7:25 Take Pill
7:30 Prepare Dinner
8:00 Eat Dinner
8:25 Have Bruce eat me.
Dinner, quality time, and mind-blowing sex: that’s the plan , you thought to yourself.
But sometimes things don’t always go according to plan. For instance, Bruce arriving two hours ahead of schedule, was not a part of the plan.
“Damn it B! I told you eight o’clock!” You complained after he hurried inside of your door, placing hasty kisses on each of your cheeks, and one on your lips.
“What?” He whined, sporting that puppy dog look you always loved. “I was too excited to wait that long.”
How could you stay irritated at that? Still you whined back, “I haven’t even made dinner yet. I was gonna give you your surprise after that.”
“Aww muffin, let’s just make it together. You know I like helping you do that.” He replied, turning his back to you and fumbling with his phone as he paired his bluetooth to your speaker. Before long the familiar sound of his favorite Bossa nova playlist flooded your ears.
“No you like eating the ingredients, then complaining later because we never have enough sausage.” You say over the soft jazz.
“I can’t help that you never prepare enough! You have to take into account that your boyfriend is a very hungry man!” He expressed passionately. You chuckled at how sincere he sounded. “I’m constantly eating for two, and I always tell you this. ‘I need more meat Y/N. Prepare six servings instead of’ two—”
He interrupted himself when you shot him a disapproving, but playful, glare.
“—Joking. Joking.” He finished, throwing up his hands in a defensive manner. Then he quickly added, “Where do you want me Captain?” scurrying to the sink to wash his hands.
“Peel the damn potatoes Banner.”
“Anything you say, boss.” You heard him say, as you tucked the pink pussycat into your apron pocket, before slipping away to your bedroom.
Another thing that was not a part of the plan, was the pill taking effect a full 30 minutes earlier than you thought it would.
You grossly underestimated the effects.
It didn’t help that you had engulfed a glassful of wine. Alcohol and a sexual enhancement was not a good mix.
What also didn’t help , was Banner taking it upon himself to give you a very intimate lesson in chopping veggies.
You felt his presence envelope yours. An earthy aroma mixed with lemon and ginger overwhelmed your senses as he pressed his front against your back. Placing his hand over yours and the knife, he guided your movements slowly.
“I read in an article once, that the way you cut an onion can impact the taste.” He told you, his whole body softly reverberating through yours and raising the hairs on your neck. “There’s an enzymatic reaction in them that produces the flavor. And the finer the slice, the more enhanced the taste. ”
Your reply to that was, “Fuck baby, I love it when you talk nerdy to me.”
Your breathy moan caused him to abruptly halt his actions, cough and stumble backwards. “I’m sorry what?” He asked you, eyeing you incredulously, an amused glimmer shining through his eyes. Had he heard you right?
You cleared your throat, trying to recompose yourself before you say, “It was just a joke. Haha. I’m so funny!” You awkwardly squawked, hoping you didn’t scare him too bad with your forthrightness
“Right.” He agreed, skeptical mug still painting his features. You didn’t joke like that. But he decided to let it go. You were so embarrassed that you tried to as well.
Good thing your embarrassment didn’t last long. Over the course of the meal, shamelessness took its place.
It was the little things. The everyday things that were innocent on any other occasion.
The way his teeth lightly grazed the prongs of his fork, made you jealous of the silverware. How you wanted him to tease your nipples the same way.
The jet black and gray fluffy strands of hair that shook when he spoke, would feel heavenly right about now if they were tickling at your thighs.
It was sinful the way his long fingers encased the small utensils. You could just imagine them tangled in your hair or pulling at your hips as he pounded into you mercilessly.
His lips wrapping around his wine glass, had you whining in more ways than one. It was hard work trapping those whimpers in your throat. Hard work taming your ass from bucking forward in your seat.
“Mmm” Banner groaned (a little too erotically in your opinion), “Fantastic job as always! Dinner was delicious.” His compliment went ignored, as your focus was zeroed in on his chin.
He noticed of course and asked, “Is there something on my face?” Immediately letting his hand hover over the area.
“Yeah there’s a bit of sauce on your chin.” You softly answered.
“That’s embarrassing. I’m such a messy eater sometimes.” He shared. You could practically hear the drip from your panties that spilled onto the mahogany dining stool. It was caused by the innocent innuendo. But what was worse was his next action. He let his finger collect the substance, then his tongue darted out to clean the thick creamy mess. “Every drop counts right?”
“Do you have room for dessert?” You chimed. He had barely finished his sentence, but his ears perked up at the offer.
“Depends on what you have in mind?” Was what he replied.
“Me.”
Tongue now in cheek, impish grin and cloudy eyes overtaking his features, he leaned back in his chair and asked “Is that right?
“That’s right.”
“Why don’t you come a little closer then?”
And you didn’t need to be asked twice. Before you knew it, you had leapt out of your chair and straddled yourself over his waist. The action almost tipped you both over, but before he could say another word, your lips were over his.
You couldn’t decide if you wanted your hands in his hair or on his neck, but the decision to plant one on each came quickly.
And then you kind of ungracefully invaded his mouth with your tongue. “Mm. Slower baby.” Bruce pleaded between kisses.
“Sorry” You mumbled into his lips. Rocking your hips and lightly digging your nails into the sides of his neck, you went slower but as a consequence your actions became a bit more rough.
He pulled back a little before commenting, “That’s a little rough, angel.” when you bit his bottom lip a little too harshly. This time you didn’t reply, and instead decided to capture his neck between your teeth. Sucking and bruising the skin harshly, you pulled back to completely ruin one of his favorite shirts.
When you ripped it open, the clatter of little plastic buttons connecting with the floor rang through his ears, while going unnoticed by yours.
“Geez Y/N!” He all but hissed. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”
“I can tell you what I’d like to get into me. I can even tell you how to make it happen. You can start by taking those pants off.”
He had never seen you act like that before. To say it turned him on would be an understatement. He was no longer in control of his actions from this point forward.
He stood so quickly you felt dizzy, as he placed you on the edge of the table. He reconnected with your lips and firmly squeezed your breasts through your shirt. His kiss turned rougher. His touch was firmer, and he even let his thumbs scan your chest as they more than lightly grazed your cloth-covered nipples.
And though Bruce was now on board with your eagerness, he still couldn’t quite match your enthusiasm. You threaded your fingers through the bottom patch of hair on his neck, and let his happy trail guide your other hand to the button of his jeans.
Bruce mirrored your action, letting his hand slip under your dress, then panties at the same time that you released him from his jeans.
You swallowed his groans as your wrist repeated its slow up and down motion on his shaft. He swallowed yours as his fingers massaged your swollen clit.
“How are you already so wet?” He groaned to no avail, because you were too busy fucking yourself on his fingers to answer any question he could think of.
Seeing you so vulnerable yet so shameless as you took your own pleasure, sent welcome shudders down his spine. The combination of you undulating your hips up and down to meet his fingers, whilst you massaged his dick had him slightly leaking onto your hand.
Not yet , he thought. He still had to taste you. Still have to feel you around me, before I cum.
Keeping one hand connected to your heat, Bruce gently pushed you back, so your body could lie flat on the surface of the table. Then he hiked your dress around your stomach, removed your panties, and took a seat. He needed to: he made up his mind that he wanted to be here for a while. Then he pulled your body closer to the edge, wrapped your thighs around his neck and buried his face into your sex.
He relished the burn he felt in his scalp as you pulled and tugged at his hair. Took delight at the lack of breath from your thighs closing in on him. Felt proud of the deafening wails you let out as you vibrated against his face.
Stiffening and relaxing his tongue in a repetitive cycle, was how he had you convulsing around the muscle. His fingers were both delicate and determined, as they moved in and out of your weeping hole.
Don’t get me wrong, Bruce never had trouble in the orgasm delivery division, but never had he experienced such an intense display of pleasure. I mean you were shaking long after you had cum. Not that he was complaining. He was curious, but uncomplaining.
“Ready for more?” He asked after a second (and I mean a second) of letting you calm down.
“Yes, please.” You relayed, but he had already begun the process of lifting your legs. With one ankle hooked over his shoulder, and the other dangling behind his waist, Bruce was able to sink deep into you; a sigh of pleasure escaping you both, as your body welcomed him with its warm hug.
“Fuck, baby” He groaned after one excruciatingly slow thrust. “What did you do?” But he didn’t really need to know the answer now. Not as if you were in the right mind to give it to him anyway. Not as if he was in the right mind to comprehend it. He was too busy focusing on the soft jilt of your tits as his sharp thrusts sent your body up and down the table. Too busy focused on the impossibly wet, impossibly warm feel of you. Entirely too busy concentrating on the sound of your moans mixed with the lewd sticky wetness that rang through his ears when he slowly inserted himself in and out of you.
One, two, no three strokes later, and your hot juices are already washing over him. Your tight pussy already growing tighter. “Shit!” he all but yells, when he too almost cums right then and there.
Pulling out completely he wasted no time in helping you to your feet. “Bedroom now. And this,” his gruff voice spoke lowly, in reference to your scantily clad dress, “this better be off when I get there.”
Your wobbly legs almost gave way when he released you. It was part due to your recent activities, and part due to the tone of his voice. Mostly due to the look in his eyes that you had never seen until now.
Still you did as he said, rushing, ungracefully might I add, to your bedroom.
You pulled your dress over your head, followed with your bra, and you had it mostly off by the time you felt his presence at your bedroom’s entrance.
“So this is what I can give my blame to.” You turned to see what he was going on about, when you saw him holding the same little pink package you held not an hour earlier.
He was silent as he read the carton. Silently brooding. “Bruce—”
“Hands and knees, Y/N. And don’t make me repeat it.”
Is he upset? You thought, but still you climbed onto the bed. Much too turned on to worry. What have you gotten yourself into?
You heard the whipping of his shirt as he pulled it off, followed by the rustling of his pants as they too fell to the floor. Then you felt the bed depress as he climbed on behind you.
“How do you want me to fuck you?” He asked. He lined himself up at your entrance, and gripped your hips as he awaited your answer.
He never said the word fuck when he referred to sex with you. Partly because he never fucked you. Nevertheless you softly answered, “Hard.” To which he replied,
“Tap out if you need me to stop.”
“I won’t want you to.”
“I sure hope not.”
And then the only coherent word you could form after, is the strangled yes that escaped your throat just after he rammed his dick into you.
It’s hard to keep your balance with the way he’s abusing your cunt. Your nails are clenching at the sheets, in a similar fashion to the way Bruce’s nails are digging into your skin. The sting it produces would be painful on any other day, but now it only riled you up. Suffice to say your pain and pleasure receptors were blurred and royally fucked up right now.
You began whimpering his name, and throwing your hand back in what he thought was to lessen the impact of his blows.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He grunted, staggering in his pace but snaking an arm around to roughly massage your chest.
“No, fuck me harder!” You screamed, the words leaving your mouth quicker than you can think about the consequences.
And though his voice (now much, much deeper than normal) warned, “You’re playing with fire, Y/N.” He gave you what you asked for.
Quicker sharper thrusts in and out of you made your arms collapse beneath you, as Banner set a brutal pace. And the new angle created by your arched back allowed him to sink deeper, and deeper into you.
“This feels so fucking good!” You cried into the sheets. And before long, you felt that familiar coil in the pit of your stomach threaten to snap as pleasure washed over you. “Don’t stop, baby!”
And he didn’t. No he didn’t even let up. Didn’t even falter, when your whines turned into screams. It was the same blend of merciless yet accurate strokes, even when your pussy began contracting around him again.
No, the milky glaze you left around his dick allowed him to slip in and out of you even quicker.
And though your body was sore and spent, it was far from satisfied. You moaned, and cried his name, lazily trying (and failing) to push yourself back onto him to meet his hips with yours. But you stopped when you caught a glimpse of his hand as it fell beside yours.
His normally olive-toned fingers slowly began turning a shade of green. But before you could tap out, his pace staggered as he spilled his cum into you, letting out an almost animalistic groan.
He bought his hand back to your waist, and glued his hips to yours, forcing all of his cum into you. He slowly rocked his hips into you as waves of pleasure rippled off of him and into you, while he rode out his high, shamelessly moaning and whimpering just as you did earlier.
“Bruce?” you hesitantly called, “Baby you still with me?” but he didn’t answer. Instead after a few moments of hearing nothing but his steady breathing, you felt his lips on your spine, as he planted kisses down your back. His warm breath, and sweaty forehead lingered at the base, as he continued trying to catch his breath.
And though you were relieved, his lingering kisses on your spine had you wet all over again.
“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking?” He hissed through gritted teeth, as he laid down to get a better look at you. His eyes were hooded from exhaustion.
“About what?” You innocently asked, through a labored pant, a little too focused on other things to think about what he could mean.
“Geez, I don’t know. Maybe when you decided to take,—fuck,” He moaned out, before finishing his thought with, “a sexual enhancement.”
You smirked down at him, as you swayed your hips back and forth onto his dick. “You think it was a bad idea?”
“I didn’t say that” He retorted quickly, grabbing your hips to match your movements with his, as he rolled himself up into you. “I’m just saying…” He started slowly, a little too focused on other things to organize his thoughts, “Maybe you could give a guy a heads up next time.”
And as you took in his words, and took in him, you found yourself cumming again before you could ask, Where’s the fun in that?
Grinding down onto him slowly, you rode out your climax, with the aid of him fucking you threw it. A sweaty, shaky mess you were, (your body not exactly equipped to lose so much water, on top of the strenuous activities) as you came undone on him, for what had to be the...well you don't know, you lost count.
Your body was hot to the touch and your throat was sore from all the moaning. So was your jaw, and even your mouth was dry from having it open for so long. Simply put, you were fucked out, and were finally ready to give it a rest.
As you laid down beside him, he draped his arm around your limp body, pulling you closer to him as he held you tight. The feeling of him was nice. His scent, much like it was earlier, was intoxicating. And he was warm and soft. The heat of his body just about coaxed you to sleep. But,
“Oh no, angel. We’re not doing this again.” He protested, when he felt your lips on his skin.
And then you chuckled when you recalled, “That’s what you said last time” before dragging your body on top of his.