She shivers—at his words, at his fingers, and at his voice being inside of her mind. It's overwhelmingly intimate. Telepathy is a part of her that she's kept to herself—had to, for the sake of others, especially since she's only ever used it to manipulate people onto puppet strings—and it's a strange and overwhelming thought to have him accept it so readily. And she fears doing it now, accidentally making Bucky do something he hadn't wanted to do.
It's a little hard to relax when Bucky's in her head and has his fingers nestled in her cunt. She breathes in sharply, making a gasping noise that sounds like its part moan, and digs a heel into the bed in response to his fingers.
Just two. Move slow.
She tightens the muscles in her belly, sucking it in before forcing a long exhale. The desire to control him is there—it's always there, waiting for her on the precipice of new and nerve-wracking moments—and Wanda palms the bedsheets with both hands to stop herself from dipping into it.
no subject
It's a little hard to relax when Bucky's in her head and has his fingers nestled in her cunt. She breathes in sharply, making a gasping noise that sounds like its part moan, and digs a heel into the bed in response to his fingers.
Just two. Move slow.
She tightens the muscles in her belly, sucking it in before forcing a long exhale. The desire to control him is there—it's always there, waiting for her on the precipice of new and nerve-wracking moments—and Wanda palms the bedsheets with both hands to stop herself from dipping into it.