Chapter Text
Your POV
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be sticking my nose into this. I should be alone, on my couch, binge-watching Netflix, or eating ice cream. I shouldn't be suggesting I could hunt down the Winter Soldier with Captain America. I have absolutely no business here, and yet, the baby blue eyes of a superhero are cracking me in two without even trying. It seems so far out of my depth, but there was also something about this situation that didn’t sit right with me, that something was itching inside me that said if I could help, I should help . But, there was also something about this whole situation that made my blood run cold with fear.
Steve crossed his arms, leaning back against the kitchen counter. My kitchen counter. Captain Fucking America was absolutely unreal, and here he was, in my house, asking for my help. Bulging muscle, smooth, soft blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes, I feel almost starstruck by the Steve Rogers. I wasn’t a fool. I knew I was only admitted to SHIELD because I had some weird powers. That weird made me special. That was the same reason that Steve was here; I was useful but only as much as I could control my rampant unpredictable magic. His honey-smooth voice snapped me out of my dazed glance. “Sam said you thought you found him, but it was from a few weeks ago?” I nodded, letting my eyes close for a moment. Steve was here for my help. I needed to get my head in the game, no matter how much I felt like he could peel me apart without trying.
“Yeah,” I swallowed and opened my eyes again, refocusing on the computer screen in front of me. Sparing my friend a glance, I wasn’t sure how much Sam told him about what I could do or how much he read in my file. “I felt something...strange-” I told him, stopping myself from overexplaining.
Honestly, I also didn’t want to tell him about the dream. People don’t understand how my powers work, and sometimes I am not even sure if I am controlling them all the time. I just seem to know things and my dreams seem authentic sometimes, but other times are just fantasies. So how do I tell this man that I was dreaming of his best friend and yet didn’t know why or how it was possible?
I have a couple of dreams where the man is doing something humble and domestic, shopping for fruit, walking on a street, cleaning a dingy bathroom. Most often, I dream of the only time I meet him. It was back in the hallway at shield. The Winter Soldier stalked past me to the helicarriers to stop Steve Rogers from wrecking Hydra’s plans, and I had stepped up to stop him. I did it in my dream, just like I had in real life. I couldn't, of course, hope to even put a dent in his movement. The super soldier hadn’t thought twice before he had flung me across the room through a plate glass window like a rag doll. After that, I was in the hospital for a while, but so had plenty of other people.
The dream I had this time, though, the soldier didn’t throw me. Something was different. When I dream in magic, it feels different, and it smells different. This time he smelled like pine trees, salty sweat, and fear. Some of that might have been him, and some of that had to have been me. The Soldier didn’t throw me aside. He had stopped and looked deep into me like he recognized me and this time grabbed me by my uniform shoulders, flesh and metal biting into me and searing like hot rods down into my veins, and he pushed me. I knew he was telling me to run, to save myself, to get away from him, but he didn’t speak with his voice, and instead, his mind sounded like a gravelly old recording in my head. When I woke up, I just knew where he was.
I meet Steve’s questing eyes and feel myself tense. That wasn’t something I could tell Captain America. He’d think I was crazy. I also doubt he’d trust me if I told him my intel was based on a feeling from an uncontrolled and unreliable superpower that Wanda still couldn't help me figure out all how to control, and Dr. Banner couldn’t stop. I guess I could do this, though. I knew what I saw. I knew what I felt, and no matter how illogical it seemed, I knew I was right. “I thought that was suspicious. I usually can’t find somebody if I don’t know them. But I did some digging on my hunch, and I think he was there.” I pull up a picture to share, “I think this could be the Winter Sold-”
Steve’s voice is tight and firm as he interrupts me, “Bucky,” He corrects. I took my eyes off the screen again to look at the hardened man in front of me. Even outside his uniform, just a tight t-shirt stretched across his well-formed chest and dark jeans hugging his muscular thighs, he commanded a presence that filled my space. He caught my eyes, the ice thawing for a moment, realizing he used his Captain voice when he didn’t mean to. “His name is Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes.”
“Captain-” I started, shifting in the seat only to have him interrupt me again.
“-Steve.” He corrects again, this time softer; I feel like I can see him break a little, forcing out the air in his lungs and the persona of Captain America to be more average as his arms uncurled to fall to his side. He pushed off the counter and grabbed the chair closest to me. “Please...I..” He retook a breath, and I watched something in him exhale the pain of something deeper than I could understand. “This isn’t a mission for Captain America or SHIELD; this is for me.” He wants to say more, but he can’t. This thing is important and weighty, and it sticks in his throat with a lump, and I fill the silence.
“Steve...” I started agreeing to his level of formality and allowing a break away from the awkwardness, “I can help you find Bucky. I can't really explain how but I know that I can. I can help. I want to... I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Steve nodded, his jaw tight and working; the memory of the swollen eye, several stab wounds, and broken bones from the beating he had taken from the Winter Soldier is still fresh in his mind. With him so close to me now, I can feel the warmth coming off his skin and the feeling of pain in his memory mixed with something else; determination. The evidence had faded from his skin thanks to super soldier healing, but the memory is still a flash of hot pictures in his mind and leaking into my mind, which I pretend not to see. I don’t know if Sam told him how many times I visited Captain Rogers, The Falcon is my friend and isn't so likely to betray my trust, but he did say enough to get Steve here, I guess. Sam knew I liked Captain America, at least enough that I would show up when he was hurt. Also, my friend teased me about how hot I obviously thought the blonde was, and that was hard to hide.
Steve was a good guy though, and he might feel guilty about using me, but he would do it anyway because he needed to. I feel a roll of emotion from him. It’s my power pulling from him his tension and guilt and fear. I feel the emotion like a wall and close my eyes to it. The emotions are too jumbled for me to understand completely, but I guess he feels nervous. I have no intention of calling him on it. I don’t want to feel like I am being used, but I am useful for him right now, and that is what he needs, so it is okay.
I watched him swallow, guilt passing across his face and a shadow of shame before his voice continued, soft and vulnerable. “I left him. I left him because I thought he was dead.” Steve’s hand worked nervously across the surface of the table, his breath distracted, “Even after god knows what they did to him, He didn’t leave me. He pulled me out of that water. I can’t go back and change what happened, but I can try and help him now.” He pushed his tongue against the inside of his mouth, a shaky breath escaping him again before meeting my eyes. “Did you read his file?”
I nod my head, watching this strong man, one who I had seen on several missions, endure a lot of abuse, and lead a team of superheroes, but I had never seen him crack before. A roll of pain comes from him, and I see him as a little kid, skinny, weak, and vulnerable in my mind, but just for a moment. I remember notes about Steve Rogers from before the serum, but I wonder if that kid still feels powerless sometimes, even in this big body. For just a moment, I feel Steve sitting back in himself as the one who needed protecting, remembering his best friend. “I know he was your friend...” I say quietly. Not wanting to push but also knowing that the half dozen missions where I was in the Captain’s ear didn’t give me the authority to call myself his friend or that I would be due an explanation. “and that's enough for me.”
Steve looks up at me, vulnerable blue eyes meeting mine for a long hold of breath before he cracks a soft smile, trying to put himself back together. “Then tell me where he is, and I am out of your hair, and you can enjoy the rest of your PTO in peace.”
I know I will be lucky to live long enough to regret this, and I am well aware that I am only doing this because I am head over heels in love with this man who barely knows I exist. That doesn’t matter. “Doesn’t completely work like that...” I say with a laugh, “and don’t be silly, I’m coming with you” I watch his eyes twitch in question, but don’t pause long enough to interrupt me as I stand, “I’ll pack a bag. Who needs a beach blanket when you can bring coms and ammo.”
I walk away, leaving him laughing and shaking his head at my excitement. He meets Sam’s eyes, and they are polite enough to wait till I am out of the room before they talk about me.
******
Steve adjusted his ball cap, lowering it on his head and sliding back into his seat with a subtle grace that didn’t quite show off the strength of the Super Soldier underneath. Watching me type wasn’t interesting, but he was patient, and although he seemed to watch occasionally, he was rather self-entertained. He leaned forward, setting a cup of coffee next to me. I smile and glance up to meet his eyes to say thank you. I watch him sit back in his seat with absolute breath-stealing grace and magnetic joy. He is beaming and it feels like a ray of sunshine against my skin, and my heart skips a beat at the heat of his moment of joy. “Bucky was here,” he says, his deep voice in a triumphant whisper that is quiet but just loud enough for me to hear easily.
“He isn’t here anymore, though. Probably ten days ago, I think?” I both ask and tell at the same time. Steve smiles a little; the blonde’s eyes sparkle slightly in amusement. He didn’t fully understand what I was doing. To be honest, neither did I. I try and pretend I’m using my analyst skill son the computer more than the abilities I am still trying to hide, but I’m not sure it is working. I honestly also know how I am connecting to James Barnes. I don't know this man, and I can’t reach out to him the way I usually can. I only saw the Winter Soldier once, and walking through a museum to look at his face should not be enough for me to see him like I am. Yet his face and eyes were burned in my brain, and felt like he was seared across my nerves. Steve shifts and sips his coffee, and for just a second, my mind blanks, and my vision feels double. The dark-haired man is there. He is in that very seat, moving the way Steve just did and scanning the room with military precision. They both did the same thing, back to a corner, eyes sweeping over the room, and then Bucky’s eyes land where Steve’s keep going, and I turn to look at what the ice blue leads me to.
Just like that, the brunette was gone, and Steve was looking at me with a small smile. “Exactly correct, doll.” I feel a flush at the praise and the pet name. I swallow and bury my flushed face in a sip of coffee, turning to look at the other side of the room. What did Bucky see? Or what gave him an idea? Or where was he pointing me to? I knew I needed to trust myself to know what I saw when I saw it, but until that unnaturally correct feeling settled inside me, I had no idea when I would know the answer to the puzzle. When the world would whisper to me the answer to my question. Seeing into other people even with my defenses up was rare, even rarer, however, is seeing the past like that. I don’t know why Bucky’s memories were littered in my mind this way, but I could use them to find him, and that is what Steve wants.
The blonde, beautiful, strong, determined, kind, and devoted, sits there with no idea how much I wish I could give him what he wants. I feel myself push, peeling at the inside of my skin. Where did he go?
“I know where he went next,” I hear myself say, my eyes fixed on a rack of books, and something in me just knew. “We need a car.”
“One car, coming right up” Steve stood, nodding sharply and letting a strong hand fall onto my shoulder, squeezing with soft warmth for a moment before letting go. “We’re close already. Let’s see if we can catch up.” I feel myself preen and flush under his attention, desire rolling across the span of his skin connected to mine. In an instant, he's gone, and oh shit, am I in trouble. I need to be careful to hold myself together. I shift and swallow, hiding my face in the coffee again. I keep opening my mind and stretching out my powers to reach the Winter Soldier, but it is farther than I have ever reached before, and I am losing precision when Steve is near me. What's worse is my comfort with the Captain makes it harder for me to keep a tight clamp on my heart rate. His tight shirts are also NOT helping.
******
Steve suggested adjoining rooms or the same room because just hanging out with Captain America could be dangerous for me. He is not wrong, but I am not completely helpless. I’m no superhero, though, and he’s probably not wrong about being so visible. After he was recognized, we decided I would book the room, and this particular hotel had only one room left; at least there were two beds. When I got the key from the front desk, it was way too tiring for me even to consider that it meant I would be sleeping only a few feet away from Steve, but the idea really thrilled me more than scared me.
I came out of the bathroom in my pj’s; a pair of leggings and a long oversized shirt. To tuck in for the night and was a little pleasantly surprised to find Steve relaxed against the headboard. He’s on the Queen bed closest to the door, and I register that he probably made it a strategic choice and I wonder how hard it is not to offer me my preference. If I have learned anything in our time together so far it is that he is ridiculously polite. He wore loose grey sweatpants and a white tank, comfortably reading. He glanced up at me and smiled gently again. I have to remind myself that it is just a greeting and doesn’t mean anything. But hot damn, do I love the thought of that man smiling at me from bed every night. “Hey, I actually don’t sleep as much as I used to. Kinda, a super soldier thing, I guess.” He shrugs casually. “Will it bother you if I read for a while with the light on?”
I smile back, the curve of his lips must be infectious. “That's no problem.” I pull back my sheets and slide into the cool crisp surface, feeling a little warm from that smile anyway.
“Also…” Steve continues before I get too comfortable. “I usually go for a run in the morning. I’ll probably be back before you wake up...but, I also might be in the shower.” It seems so strange discussing domestic things. It’s like he isn’t sure what he is supposed to tell me.
I smile sleepily at him. “Thanks for letting me know.”
I sit up a little suddenly, breaking the awkward quiet that has settled, and route around the small bag I brought. Finally, I fish out the notebook I kept notes in. I flip through it and pluck out a small bit of ripped cloth into my hand before returning to lay down.
“What is that?” Steve asks, curiosity piqued with an adorable tilt of his eyebrows.
I don’t usually share this stuff with other people. Honestly, it feels stupid and embarrassing, but he asked, and I want to tell him. I want to talk with him about everything and anything. Plus I know it looks weird, and I do care if he thinks I'm crazy. “This is a piece of my uniform.” I show him, handing it over when he holds out his hand out with interest. “I was wearing it the day I saw the Win- sorry, Bucky” I grapple with how to explain as I watch the blonde turn it in his long fingers. “Holding something connected to someone can help me find them. I honestly am not sure it will help. Sometimes I can see their dreams or where they have been.” He offers the piece back, and I take the cloth back, closing it in my palm as I slide down into the covers. “It’s easier when I am asleep. but I can’t always tell how strong or weak an object will connect me to a person.”
Steve nods quietly. “So you are going to be...doing work while you're asleep?” He quirks one expressive eyebrow up at me. “That doesn’t sound very restful.”
I shrug. "It isn't the best sleep, but it isn't terrible either. Usually, it is longer than when I am awake, but I don't do it all night."
"That is fascinating,” He answers, leaning back. “Goodnight doll, Sweetdreams.” His smile is almost endearing. He looks almost sweet, and the way he looks at me absolutely melts me. I know I am imagining it, my crush turning every second of eye contact into something that can melt me, but I can't help it.
I clip off the light facing me and breathe deeply. Trying to put Steve out of my mind while I sink into my dreams. It doesn’t take long at all for sleep to take me.
******
The totem worked tonight. I'm not sure why tonight and not other nights, but I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I am back in the hallway with the Winter Soldier. This time I have autonomy. It feels familiar in the chill of my mind, and the walls waiver a little as I choose to move differently than I did in my memory. The cold stalk of the Soldier is loud in the hall; it rings with the force of his steps. I feel like it happens all over again in a fast-forward rush. Cold, distant eyes don’t register me, and the metal arm whirrs a little as it takes a bite into my uniform. He throws me again, and I go crashing through the veil of my dream into a place that feels very, very different.
The air smells like leather and electricity. It is dark. Very dark. There are strange hands on my hips, sliding across bare skin. One hand on me is warm flesh, the other cold metal. Bucky. It feels like I am straddling him, but I can’t see, and I can’t hear him. I focus as best I can, but the connection is weak. I can touch but can’t see, I brush fingers over bare flesh, a shoulder, the column of his neck, and the scrape of his stubbled face. His hands move up, the flesh hand palming my left breast. “Oh fuck..” I whisper, heat spiking between my legs sudden and sour and so good. His metal hand sinks into my hair and pulls me to kiss him. He moans, but I can’t hear it, just feel it in his throat beneath my fingers. He says something, I feel the vibration, but I can’t hear him.
I try to switch the senses, control the world of this dream. I suddenly feel nothing, but I can see him. I am in a large t-shirt, his hands under the tattered fabric, and he is topless on a sofa. I am straddling him, and he looks startled as to why he suddenly cannot feel me. He looks at me with the cold, calculating thoughts racing behind bright, beautiful blue eyes. The reality that I move and have control in his fantasy sinks into him strangely. Doubt, fear, and betrayal run over him as he stands suddenly, and I fall off his lap to the floor in a rush. He draws a gun. This feels like the Winter Soldier reflex dipped in sticky yellow fear. I know he can’t hurt me. Can he? He says something, but I can’t hear him. I let myself sink into the floor and flip the world.
The Winter Soldier sits on the bunk of a cell. It’s still dark but not as bad as before, sickly green illuminates the small space, and I can see him now. He doesn’t look good, though. Don’t get me wrong, he is shirtless and looks amazing; it’s just he is bleeding, and his eyes are sunken.
I don’t know what I am doing. Really this feels like I am out of my depth. This is a dream. The bleeding isn’t even real; just a dream, but I feel concerned and deep sadness envelop me and draws me to him. I cannot tell if this is a memory or if this is really happening right now? I don’t have any way of knowing. I reach out and put my hand directly over the cut across his chest from his shoulder at the clavicle sleeping in a curve to the center of his sternum. The feeling intensifies suddenly as the blood touches my skin. I feel it gurgle against me, and I push on the wound. I watch Bucky flinch and meet my eyes. Another version of him screams in pain, a faded vision over the one under my hand moving simultaneously, and I shake with the flow of electricity and metallic sting in my mouth. I grab a handful of pillowcase from the pillow in the bunk, shaking out the broken down polyfill pancake inside and pushing the crumpled fabric to his chest. I press hard, and he tries to pull away from me. He can’t though, he hits the wall and looks confused for a moment. He can’t pull away from me despite me being much smaller and weaker looking than him, I have him pinned, and he cannot move me. I don’t know how I hold him, but it obviously isn't a physical thing and I do it without difficulty.
Everything goes dark again but him. Just us floating in space. He grabs me with his metal arm. Vibranium squeezes my wrist. He’s talking, saying something, but I can’t hear him and not just because I am not listening. The connection is off balance. It isn’t working right. I know he sees or feels something, but I don’t think it is the same as what I am seeing. I press into the wound, stanching the bleeding and disregarding the metal. I feel him jerk and his other hand, the flesh one wraps around my hand as well. He is breathing hard.
“Leave me alone,” he says, and although I think I hear it, I suspect that I just feel it or something more like just knowing those were his words. Before I can answer, I feel heat and warmth from behind me. It wraps around me, and I know it is Steve before his arms close around me. He is warm against my back, and his hands move down my arms and sink into my blood-soaked fingers, pushing my hand to stanch the bleeding wound. His strength is absolutely unreal. I feel like he could crush me, but instead, I feel his strength roll down my arms and into Bucky.
“No,” I tell him simply, but it feels like Steve is talking through me. I lean into him and try to change the dream. I pull at his reality, and I feel it shift. The blood turns into fear. Yellow and sticky pouring out of him like honey, and the wall disappears, the pressure of my hands shoving Bucky back onto a table in the dark.
Usually, I can control more, but I have only been in the dreams of people I know before now and not often. Everything in my mind just feels like confusion. Steve is gone. I push hard and shove Buck through the table and out of the dream.
I open my eyes, and I am lying in the snow. I am ice cold and full of pain. My body is shaking softly from the cold, shock, and searing agony. I look down at my left arm, what is left of it is bleeding into the white snow, and everything hurts. I struggle to sit up and pull myself out of Bucky, but I can’t. So instead, I step back and pull us somewhere else.
I grab Bucky as best I can and drag him into my memory. I take him to a beach. A warm sunny afternoon on the beach. I open my eyes to the clear blue sky and the sense of sun on my face. I sit up and look down at Bucky, breathing hard in the sand. His arm is still gone, a bloody stump staining the sand, but his mind thaws from its icy grip to register the warm world of the beach, and his arm changes to the shiny silver metal.
He is breathing hard. Struggling to get air, and shocked that it is warm and wet and salty instead of cold and pine-filled. I feel his panic start to subside, and his body starts to relax. “Hey. There you go,” I tell him.
“Hey,” he responds, mouth moving with no sound. Looking around and letting his breath even out. He looks at me, and I swear for just a second, he checks me out as his blue eyes rake down my body and back up. His mouth moves, but I don’t know what he says. I’m in a bikini and feel a blush rise in me and struggle to keep it down. He’ll feel me here, just like I can feel his heart slow and a roll of ...something that feels vaguely like reverence coming from him. I feel like he sees me clearly, maybe for the first time tonight. I’m willing to bet he still can’t hear me, though.
He pulls himself up, abs flexing, and he looks around, shocked and exhausted. He closes his eyes and looks up, and I feel him letting the sun pour into the empty place where fear once was. I smile when he sinks his fingers into the sand of the beach and lifts it up, feeling it slide through his fingers before checking his chest for the wound from earlier. He tries to talk to me again. I shake my head and tap my ears. “I can’t hear you,” I say.
He nodes and breaths out. He reaches out, but his hand moves through me. He can touch the sand, but not me. Vaguely I feel like that I could shift that priority, but the beach feels good for him, and I want so badly to give him that. He feels so lost.
He shifts, crisscrossing his legs and looking out over the water, listening to the water swoosh softly. It takes me a while to notice that he was trying to get my attention. I had been focusing on holding us here. He waves in front of my face and points down at the sand where he has written, ‘Why are you here?’
I smile and look at him—what a clever boy. I focus on the water, and a wave crashes in to wash away his message. Then sit up and press a finger into the newly wet sand. I don’t know how to answer the question, though. I don’t know how to even describe what I am doing here. I figure simple is better. I drag out in the sand “to help you.”
He nods and looks like he is thinking before he mouths why, and I feel the broken sadness swell from him, turning the sky grey. I lean forward, erasing the sand, and draw three concentric rings with a star in the middle. The Captain America shield. My mind sculpts the sand where I have outlined, smoothing it perfectly, into a 3d artistic rendering looking like Cap’s shield, there made of sand. It was like something I could never do with my fingers, but this is a dream, and I manifest what I want.
Bucky reaches out and touches the sand with a soft reverence. He whispers something I am pretty sure is a version of Steve’s name, and I smile. The sky begins to clear, but the world is hard to hold. I watch Bucky relax and feel the peace of my mind spread through him. He just sits and watches the sunrise. Quiet. I feel the terror of his nightmare leak away, and I lose track of time. Then in an instant, he is gone.
I stand, looking around the beach to see if he walked away. Nothing. He is gone. I reach out a little with my mind searching for him. I open myself looking for him, when suddenly, without warning, a wave splashes into my back. I roll in water and find the floor with my feet before I gasp for air and struggle to wipe the water from my face. I’m not at the beach anymore. No. I’m in the shower? I breathe out and turn, only to come face to face with bright blue eyes. I jump a little in surprise and give a short little startled scream. Steve breaks into a wide sweet smile with a slight chuckle. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He pulls me up against him, pulling my face out of the spray before I have to close my eyes to clear them again.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, gulping hard as I have to lean back to look up at him, and he captures my lips instead. Okay. Yeah. That is nice. The feel of heat and lust run through me in a rush of lightning that strikes between my legs. My heart pounds at the feeling of his naked body against mine, hands stroking me and holding me. Everything is wet and hot-pressed against me; I am overwhelmed by the sudden feel of him. I have wanted him to touch me like this so many times before it is hard to keep my heart calm.
This fantasy seems more vivid, more real than anything ive had before. His slick hands spread against my back and my ass as he pulls me close. His skin is so hot, his body, a temple of cut muscle, and his lips, feel sweet and soft. It must be from being so close to him. I have had a taste of how he feels and now i recognize his desire as it flows over me like a wave, and even though I am not under the water anymore, I feel like I am drowning in want.
I want to feel his excitement inside me under my skin, I want to feel him like this so bad and now my imagination seems to have enough information to make my beautiful dreams feel spiced with truth. The evidence of his desire is pressed against my stomach, hard, insistent, and at full attention. I feel so sexy with the slide of his body on mine and his shuddering breath on my lips when we break contact for air, “Holy shit,” I pant, exploring his body with my hands, eager and excited. The super soldier sinks his fingers between my wet thighs to tease into my folds, smirking at how slick I am.
“Ready, baby doll?” he asks, voice rough. I nod, still shocked and enchanted as he grabs me by the ass and easily lifts me up, pushing me against the cool tile wall. I clutch at his tense arms, letting out a soft whimper as I hold onto him. Lost in the smell of him. Lost in the heat of him.
“Your amazing, so fucking beautiful,” He pants, mouthing my jaw as my legs tighten around his waist, helping to hold myself up as he reaches between us to line himself up. His name falls from my lips as my head falls back against the tile, my mouth open in a silent scream, my eyes shut tight, and my body on fire as he whispers in my ear. “Say my name again.” he pushes forward, slowly stretching his way inside my hot, slick body. I make some noises I don’t know how to stop as he fills me up. I grip wildly at his tone muscular shoulders struggle for an anchor on his slick skin as his name falls from my mouth incoherent along with the word please, yes, and other things I don’t have any control over as he stretches and fills me up again and again.
I am overwhelmed when everything suddenly shatters but not from an orgasm. I suck in air, rushing into me with the spinning of sitting bolt upright in the hotel bed. The alarm on my phone is going off. I grab it, panting and clicking off the alarm while trying to calm my racing heart. Fuck. I shift and realize I am embarrassingly wet. I shouldn’t be surprised, but holy shit, was that an amazing fantasy.
I glance at the bathroom, listening to the dull sound of running water. That explains why I was just dreaming of amazing shower sex. I rub my face with a small groan. I can smell the scent of sweat, probably from him running and it smells like sex from my dream. I wait as my heart pounds loud and lost in the heat of my fanatsy. I've never had such detail before and I shiver at the reality of knowing enough to make that fantasy so real. I wonder if I have enough time to help relieve some pressure before he gets out. I am so turned on I can feel myself throbbing, but instead, I hear the water cut off and groan again. I guess not.