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Bob was the greatest partner you could’ve ever asked for. He was patient and kind and appreciated you in ways that no one had ever done before.
Before him, before the Thunderbolts, you had been so alone. Everyone you had ever loved had either left or been taken from you. You’d get home from work – whatever odd job Valentina had you doing – and sink to the floor of your kitchen, just sitting in the light from the fridge, and cry.
That all felt like a lifetime ago. The shell of the person you were was no longer hollow. You’d been filled with warmth at the first sight of human connection, and you had every intention of holding on to it. Bob was the source of a lot of that warmth. He brought out the best in you. Now, the only times you cried were in relief or from laughing.
You loved him. You could feel it in your chest, and you told him as often as you could. More often than that, you showed him. You did so every day, but when you returned from a mission, you took extra lengths to make sure he felt loved.
When the team had been sent on a particularly difficult job, returning covered dirt and dried blood, you quietly took Bob’s hand in yours and led him to your bedroom. The door clicked shut behind you, and you took his face in your hands to look at him. Molten gold still burned in his eyes – he still had the power of a million exploding suns coursing through him.
“Sentry,” you said firmly, but still gently. “It’s time to let go.”
His expression softened. Every version of Bob loved you – even when it seemed like he wasn’t fully himself. His chest was tight, breathing deeply, like he was trying to calm himself down. You moved your hands from his cheeks to trail down his arms, reaching for his hands that were clenched into tight fists at his sides. Your gaze never left his as you forced his hands open, placing his warm palms on your hips, and returned yours to cradle his face again.
“I want my Bob back.” You brushed your thumbs across his cheekbones, waiting for his irises to return to their deep blue. You both stood there in silence for a moment, just breathing in each other’s air while you watched the gold fade from his eyes. “Hi,” you whispered with a smile once the man you loved returned to you once again.
Bob took a shaky breath, still recovering. “H-H-Hi,” he breathed back.
“Wanna go get cleaned up with me?” you asked softly. Bob simply nodded and followed you into the bathroom.
You unzipped the front of your suit and peeled the top away from your skin, letting it hang around your waist while you helped Bob out of his. Starting by unclasping his cape, you helped him work his way out of his golden armor. Every piece of it was perfectly tailored to his body, so working the material off of his muscled shoulders and arms was often a two-man job. You certainly didn’t mind helping, getting an up-close view of his gorgeous body – pale, but still golden-hued, and decorated with freckles that you often liked to count with kisses.
Once he was able to get to the lower portion of his suit, you did the same. You kicked off your boots and worked the remaining fabric down your legs. You winced when it snagged on a cut on your thigh. It wasn’t deep, just fresh, and Bob’s eyes shot up to you at the sound of your pain.
“It’s okay,” you reassured. “I promise, it’s not that bad. I’ll take care of it after we shower.”
Bob seemed satisfied with that because he wordlessly returned to trying to remove his suit. He stood back to his full height, waiting for you to finish. When you were both left in only your underwear, you reached into the shower, letting the water warm, and turned back to face him. His breathing had slowed, but his eyes were still clouded with concern.
“Bob,” you said, pulling his attention back to your face and away from the cut on your leg. “I’m fine.”
He nodded again. “I know.” He grasped at your hips again, anchoring himself to you.
You reached for the bottom of your sports bra, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Bob tucked his thumbs under the waistband of your panties. It wasn’t sexual, not teasing, just intimate. You nodded, giving him permission to push down the fabric. It pooled at your ankles, and you stepped out of it, closer to him. You mirrored his action, fingertips grazing the top of his underwear. Bob whispered a soft “okay” against your temple, and you pushed the material off of his hips.
You walked backwards again, pulling him with you, and reached into the shower to check the temperature of the water. Then, you stepped inside, and Bob followed.
The water came down over the two of you in warm sheets, soothing your aching muscles. You let it wash over you before you reached for your body wash and squeezed a dollop into your hand. You spread the cool liquid between your hands and pressed them against Bob’s chest. You lathered the soap over his broad musculature, working your way down his body. The water beat against your back as you kneeled in front of him, making sure to cover his legs with the suds.
“Turn,” you said, looking up at him.
Bob followed your instruction, and you made your way back up his legs and back. You lightly massaged the muscles of his back, pressing your thumbs into the knots, as you cleaned him.
“Okay, Golden Boy,” you joked, playfully grabbing his ass. “You can rinse.”
Bob laughed as he turned back to face you. He stepped forward into the water, forcing you back against the wall. Once he washed away all of the suds, he reached for the bottle you had set aside.
“Your turn,” he said with a soft smile that you mirrored, knowing he had returned to his usual self.
He pulled you towards him, and you stumbled into his chest, one of his strong arms wrapping around you to steady you. His head dipped, catching your mouth in a perfect kiss as he turned to shield you from the water.
Bob released your lips, pulling back to squeeze some of the body wash into his hand. He copied your ministrations from before, ensuring that you were covered in the sweet-smelling bubbles and carefully working his way around your body, trying not to look at the scrapes and bruises for too long.
The feeling of his large, soft hands eased the tension in your body, his fingertips pressing into all the parts of you that ached. A low groan rumbled in your chest, and Bob chuckled lightly at your reaction.
“Feel good?” Even though you had closed your eyes, you could tell he was smirking, pleased with the effect he had on you.
“Mhmm,” you hummed.
Bob maneuvered your body under the water, rinsing you off. Then, he followed you under the spray, pressing the front of his body against your back, and you leaned into his warmth. His head dipped to where your shoulder met the curve of your neck, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the heated skin.
“Bob,” you groaned. “I still gotta wash my hair.”
“I know,” he murmured, and you could feel the smile on his lips as they moved down the slope of your shoulder. “Just let me love you.”
You sighed in submission, not that you’d complain. When his mouth reached the edge of your shoulder, he moved to kiss a trail across your back, reaching the other shoulder and working his way up the other side of your neck. Each kiss was searing hot yet perfectly gentle.
“Okay,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, and he turned you to face him. You thought he was going to kiss you again, the way he was still leaning towards you, his eyes dark and half-lidded, mouth parted. But he just reached past you and picked up the shampoo bottle.
“Fucking tease,” you said as you pushed at his chest and then tipped your head back to wet your hair, and you could hear Bob’s low laugh. You looked back to him and took the bottle from him, squirting a little into your hand.
Bob stepped into the water while you lathered your hair with shampoo, getting his own hair wet. Then things moved quickly, wordlessly, passing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner back and forth, moving in and out of the stream of water, running your hands over each other.
Finally, when you were both sufficiently clean and worked up from the anticipation, you turned off the shower. You both stepped out and wrapped yourselves in the large fluffy towels waiting on their hooks.
As you dried off, your eyes trailed over to Bob. You looked at the man before you, the god, and you released a shaky breath. You reached out to him, hand landing on his abs, fingertips tracing the tense muscles.
“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, getting lost in thought. You instinctively moved closer, flattening your palm against him. “I don’t deserve you.”
Bob’s cheeks flushed at the praise. “S-Sure you do,” he choked out, clearly taken aback. “You deserve the world.”
That made you smile. You tucked your towel securely around you, freeing both of your hands to hold him, one resting on his hip while the other moved up his chest, landing where you could feel his heart thudding steadily.
“That’s the thing,” you said, looking up at him, “you are the world. You help so many people, Bob – not just by being a superhero, but by being you. You make everything better.”
His heart was pounding in his chest. It looked like he was going to cry, and then he reached for you. His hands grasped the sides of your face, pulling you into a desperate kiss, forgetting completely about the towel he had been holding tightly.
You arched forward, your hands moving to brace against his shoulders. Your own towel dropped to the ground, joining his at your feet. He moved to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground effortlessly and wrapping your legs around his waist.
He carried you, and you thought you’d end up back in your bedroom, laid out on your sheets. You were surprised when he placed you gently on the cool countertop, still in the bathroom. Bob kept kissing you, not giving you room to ask what he was doing. Instead, he opened the medicine cabinet next to you and pulled out your pack of bandages.
Finally, he pulled away from your lips, just enough to mumble out a rough “fix it” before attaching his lips to your neck. That’s when you remembered the small wound on your leg.
You let out a whimper at the feeling of his mouth on the sensitive skin just below your ear and took the box in shaky hands. You found a bandage big enough to cover the cut, making a mental note to wrap it more thoroughly later, but you just needed a quick fix for now.
When you were finished, you half-heartedly tugged on his damp hair, pulling him away from your neck. “Done,” was all you needed to say before he kissed you again. Bob pulled you back into him, ready to properly take you to bed.
He laid you delicately against the duvet, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed as he knelt between them. He peppered kisses down your body, paying special attention to the areas that made you whimper. He nipped at your collarbone, palmed your breasts before lowering his mouth to each nipple, giving them equal treatment, swirling his tongue around the hardened buds and sucking at them gently. Then, he moved lower, running his tongue along the sharp angles of your hip bones. It was deliberate, worshipful, the way he touched you, like he was trying to prove to you just how much you meant to him.
You were propped on your elbows, watching him. Both of you were bathed in the amber light streaming in from the window, but Bob was glowing from the inside out. His mouth was heated on your skin, like the warmth of the sun behind each one.
He lifted slightly, detaching his mouth from you, pulling a needy whine from your throat. You could feel his warm breath fan over where you needed him most as he chuckled.
“Bob, please,” you choked out. You didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched, corner tugging upwards for a moment, at the sound of your voice. That’s when it dawned on you, seeing the flicker in his eyes, that he needed this just as much as you did, and he needed to hear you say it. “Don’t stop.”
He lowered his mouth again without hesitation, but he still moved slowly, deliberately teasing. Eyes locked on yours, he licked a thick stripe through your folds. A guttural moan, a broken sob tore through you at the contact.
“Fuck!” Your arms were quivering, struggling to keep upright, but you’d be damned if you broke eye contact. The sound prompted Bob to continue. He lapped at your wet center, his tongue flicking perfectly against your swollen clit. “Keep going, baby… feels so good. You’re so – god – my god!”
You were panting, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping the duvet beneath you.
“I’m your god?” he asked huskily, his face still buried in you, eyes dark and hungry.
The vibration of his words sent a jolt up your spine. You knew he was trying to tease you, to get you to correct your own babbling, but you nodded, sharp and shaky.
“Yes,” you rasped. He raised a brow at you – a silent challenge to keep talking, to explain yourself – as he dove back into you, nose brushing your clit while he fucked you with his tongue. “You are. You’re a god, a savior – oh fucking hell – you’re everything. I-I love you… gonna – Jesus – gonna love you forever.”
You were getting close, and Bob’s grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open, as they tried to clench around his head.
“Gonna cum,” you warned with a breathy cry.
“I know,” he said, voice rumbling into your sensitive core. “Cum for me, Y/N.”
The mixture of command and desperation in his voice and the feeling of his words into you pushed you over the edge. You came with a wanton moan, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You fell onto the bed, exhausted and incapable of holding yourself up any longer.
Bob lifted from between your legs, his chin glistening with your release. His eyes were clouded with ardor, pure love, and admiration as he appeared above you. He kissed you softly, and you could taste yourself on his lips.
Still reeling from your intense orgasm, you lifted a trembling hand to his hip, moving towards his throbbing member. Bob was always so good about taking care of you first, and you wanted to give him the same attention. You were surprised when he stopped you, his strong fingers wrapped around your wrist.
“Later,” he breathed into your open mouth. “I just wanna hold you for a minute first.”
“Okay,” you nodded, touching your forehead to his.
Bob moved up the bed, pulling you with him. When he reached the pillows, he settled into them and tucked you into his side. You curled against him, laying your head on his chest, one hand moving to rest on his pec, and one of your legs draping across him. He held you in place, fingers splaying across your lower back. He kissed the crown of your head, then rested his chin there while he toyed with the ends of your hair. You fit together like puzzle pieces.
“Sometimes I think you’re my soulmate,” he said finally. “Like you were made for me.”
“I was.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to the warm skin of his chest before shifting to look at him again. “I begin and end with you, Bob. Nothing before you matters.”
“You end with me?” he asked, raising a brow in that way that you loved. “When does it end?”
“Never.”