Tell Me a Story

by shirilily (ao3)

If she is being honest, she kind of was expecting the whistling welcome once she entered their apartment. That’s why she grins to herself, still facing the door.

Elena’s hands are fast and very welcomed on her hips, and when her fingers dig against the sensitive flesh of her pelvis, Bobbi has to bite her lips to not moan.

“Mamita, with those hips I would invite you to dance at my house,” Elena murmurs against her ear, her lips making the hairs at the nape of Bobbi’s neck stand on end.

“One, this is my house too. And two, your pick-up lines are a disaster.”

Instead of retreating, Elena tightens her arms around Bobbi’s hips, her body making a not truly unpleasant sound when it rubs against the latex of Bobbi’s dress.

“It doesn’t make what I said any less true, mi amor.”

There is something empowering about coming from a mission- and a successful one at that-, sweaty and crammed into an uncomfortable outfit only to have your girlfriend all over you, her voice rough and her hands playful, and Bobbi is thriving on it. There is having to wear uncomfortable outfits, and then there is your woman making it very worth it.

“Yeah?” She would like to have a witty comeback, but she can not think one, not when Elena is breathing raggedly against her neck, her tongue lapping lazily at Bobbi’s overheated skin, her embrace reminding Bobbi that there are things tighter than this dress. Elena gives her a non-committal hum, too focused on her hands’ exploratory path; it makes Bobbi want to be even bolder. “You know what made this dress even more daring to wear?”

For a moment, she thinks that the game is over, that Elena is too into this to go along with her in the sinuosity of teasing, but her girlfriend gives her one last wet kiss on her clavicle and humors her with the question, “What?”

“Having to wear a dress this short,” She makes a pause for Elena’s hum of appreciation; so far she has focused her attention on Bobbi’s hips, but Bobbi knows she appreciates the way the dress and the heels make her legs look impossibly long. It is, also, a built-in way to add anticipation. “Without any underwear n.”

She was counting on a verbalized reply, maybe a heated word or two in Spanish, a checking hand between her legs; what she wasn’t expecting was to be pushed against the wall, hard, Elena’s hands acting as a barrier between her body and the wall, since they have found their way into kneading her breasts. Her girlfriend might be small, but she is also strong and determined, and the dominant reaction makes Bobbi’s mouth water (and other things, too).

“You are telling me you went outside. In this dress. That makes you look sinful as it is. And under it. Your cunt   is all bare and dripping?” Elena accentuates each pause with a twist of Bobbi’s nipples, and by the time she is done asking her ‘question’, Bobbi is a writhing mess under her hands. The latex rubs against her sensitive skin, the friction giving an additional edge to an all-around arousing situation.

“Not, not dripping,” she tries to protest, but her breathless, stuttering claim lacks any confidence whatsoever.

Elena chuckles behind her back and snaps one of the shoulder straps against her skin in retaliation for the blatant lie. Bobbi moans; the dress doesn’t need the straps, it holds itself on its own based on the latex friction coefficient alone, but now Bobbi is really glad it haves them.

“I will be the judge of that, reina.”

Her hands traverse the sides of Bobbi’s body from the top of her shoulders to her hips, slowly and deliberately, and if the dress fits her like a second skin, it is because this is her first skin: the painting of her that Elena makes with her hands. The anticipation is high and tight, and Bobbi pants, wondering if Elena would let it slide if she moved her hands to her own breasts, to try and ease down the tension. When an entire minute passes without Elena making a new move- that is the same as saying: an eternity-, she starts moving her hands up her body, but Elena gives her another snap.  

“Hands down, pícara. On your hips.” She waits for Bobbi to follow the command to issue a new one, “Now, try to be good and raise your skirt. Slow.”

Bobbi whimpers; she was waiting for the moment to get her overheated cunt exposed to the air and Elena’s avid eyes, but she thought Elena was going to yank the skirt off her. What a terrible contradiction, to have Elena Rodriguez asking her to go slow. But to have to be the one to do it, and in an enticing manner no less, it ups the temperature of the whole thing, if that is even possible. Man, it makes her spiral with arousal when Elena takes charge like this. She complies, trying to raise the skirt in an even manner, to expose her, ahem, assets in the most complimenting way possible. Elena hums her appreciation when the latex finally goes over the curve of her ass, and Bobbi feels at the same time the sudden change of temperature and Elena’s charged gaze on her.

“That is a good girl. Palms against the wall, now.”

She should feel obscene or humiliated, plastered against a wall, her palms and elbows relishing on the soothing coolness of the paint, her back crammed in a too-small latex dress, her ass exposed to the air and her thighs trembling. She could feel obscene or humiliated, but since she is like this because she was following Elena’s wishes, she can only feel sexy and out-of-her-mind aroused.

They are at a breaking point, where this could go on a variety of different ways, and Bobbi can not wait to see what her girlfriend got in store for her. But Elena is not doing anything, and Bobbi is kind of not good at staying still, not when she is this much worked up already.

“You didn’t check to see if I was wet or not.” It is not deceiving at all; it is plain enough that she- Barbara Morse, spy extraordinaire- should feel ashamed, but she does not; there is no shame in wanting her girlfriend to touch her and make her come like a train.

Elena snickers behind her, “I don’t need to touch you to know you are soaking wet, baby.”

Bobbi closes her eyes; she is itching to turn around and sweep Elena into her arms, kiss her, make her melt under her touch, and to not do that, she needs all her attention focused on staying on track with the directions.

“Tú me haces mojar así, amor.*” Her Spanish will always be worse off compared to Elena’s, but ever since they got together, Bobbi has been feeling less and less ashamed of speaking it with her: it is both good practice and a way of making her girlfriend know that she is appreciated.   

“Yeah? Are you sure it is for me?” Elena doesn’t sound impressed, and dammit, she is playing hard to get. Bobbi will have to up her game if she wants to get an orgasm out of this anytime soon. “Couldn’t it be, you know, for the fact that you were out there slamming people’s lives down while being commando all the time? I know how much you get off on being that good.” Elena finally, finally, presses her whole body against Bobbi’s again, and Bobbi moans at the feeling of Elena’s rough jeans against her naked buttcheeks. Elena whispers roughly on her ear, breaking character a little, “Me encanta cuando me hablas español**.”

Bobbi considers her options; it is hard to be assertive when Elena is once again kissing her collarbone, their bodies flushed together, but if she manages to say the right thing, she might get everything she is hoping for and then some. If Elena wanted her to beg, she would have demanded it, which means Elena is craving something else.

Once she figures it out, it seems like quite an obvious thing: Elena herself made the question pretty plain, after all.

“Yeah, of course,” she begins, and Elena strokes her shoulders; Bobbi likes to think that it is some sort of reward. “It is thrilling, pushing the boundaries on what can I get away with.” Elena drags one finger down her spine, letting it rest at the curve of her ass, just a hair away of touching her actual skin, and Bobbi makes a pause, gathers her bearings. “The mission is the mission, but as long as it gets done, who needs to know the rest?”

“I do.” Elena’s voice is firm and Bobbi whimpers. “How about we make a deal, hm?”

She could be a smartass and pretend to consider it, but she knows what is best for her. There is no actual discussion to be had here.

“A deal?”

“Yeah, a deal.” Elena finally, finally, moves her hand down, just a feather touch over the skin of her ass, but even that is enough to make Bobbi roll her eyes in pleasure. “Wanting to prove how good you are makes you be bad, Barbara. If you were willing to let other people see you like this, I shouldn’t be enabling you.” Bobbi wants to protest, but she knows there is no point; Elena is actually enjoying this, it is clear in her voice, the way Bobbi can hear her smile, and there is nothing she can say to make the conversation change paths. That is if she wanted the conversation to change paths. “Now, if you were willing to behave for me, maybe I would-”

“Yes.”

“Yes what? ” she is feigning passiveness still, but her hand is now tickling at the juncture of Bobbi’s ass and thigh, knowing full well what Bobbi is about to say.

“Yes, I will do whatever you ask of me, Elena.”

“Esa es mi niña***.” What she says is praising, but her tone is indifferent while she swirls her index finger in Bobbi’s folds, and Bobbi has to bite her lower lip to not moan at the stimulation. “Oh, well, it looks like you were wet after all,” she states offhandedly, while Bobbi feels her wetness dripping down Elena’s hand.

“Elena?”

“¿Sií?”

Bobbi pants, “Please, tell me the deal.”

“Oh, right.” She is playing her character with almost viciousness, pretending to ‘remember’ the deal at the same time that she ‘remembers’ the point of her finger’s escapades and begins fingering her clit lazily; Spy Master Bobbi Morse can appreciate that facade, even though she feels like she must start shaking from the buildup. “I want you to debrief the mission for me. Not the way you did it for Coulson,” she anticipates Bobbi’s protest. “I want you to tell me all about how and where that cabrón touched you.” She makes a pause, and Bobbi waits for the twist; this can not be as easy as a bit of oversharing. “You can’t come until you are done.” She tugs on the bunched up latex at Bobbi’s hips, pronouncing the curve of her back, and making her butt stand out. “And you know I will find out if you try to left some details out.”

Bobbi is pretty sure that with just one smart flick of her wrist Elena might be able to send her spiraling down in pleasure, but the retelling comes out of her mouth in an easy flow of words anyway; there is no shame in what she is telling, because they are both cool-headed enough to know that none of that can qualify as being unfaithful, and wasn’t even done with a mean spirit. It is easy to tell Elena, even through her arousal, about her mark’s obsession with tacky clothes and tackier clubs and the way she let him think he had swept off her feet while Elena, now on her knees, bites down on her buttcheeks every time Bobbi retells a particularly untasteful joke.

She has been trained to endure more, she can definitely endure this.

She tells her of the exaggerated smiles and the indiscreet way he placed his hands on her thighs, and Elena opens up her legs with her hands and laps with her tongue unashamedly. Bobbi sticks out her ass more and keeps on talking.

Elena is right- when is she not-, she does get off on the retelling of her feats, on being good at what she does and having someone willing to share and cherish that part of her. Elena is, also, a good listener, and she carries the pacing ob Bobbi’s story into the melody she is playing with her tongue and her fingers against Bobbi’s center, making the high points even higher.

Her girlfriend knows exactly what she is doing, had been building on Bobbi’s arousal way ever since she walked in, and Bobbi finds herself rushing to tell the way she gave the man a left hook to his jaw when he tried to get too cocky with her in the bathroom, at the same time keeping her cover and managing to leave with a wireless copy of his cellphone data. By now Elena is completely sprawled on the floor, her hands holding Bobbi on place over her hungry tongue, and for a brief second Bobbi thinks that she will have to make up an excuse to keep this dress: she would go out of her mind if she ever saw it on another agent’s body.

Elena is merciless with her and Bobbi wonders if she is wanting to see her break apart; Elena is no good at being patient herself, so it could also be that, and the idea that she might be humping the air, desperate for release herself, aroused by Bobbi’s voice and the way she is taking her apart, only heightens Bobbi’s pleasure.

She finally makes it to the part where she got through this very same door, and Elena’s kiss on her collarbone, in the exact same spot the mark had touched her last, felt like a brand on her skin; by now, she is nothing but a tight bundle of nerves with just one goal. Luckily, Elena keeps her end of the deal and pushes Bobbi’s hips forward to get her to rut against her tongue, and with one last suck on her clit, Bobbi allows herself to shudder apart on her lover’s mouth.

Bobbi drops her weight on her elbows, relying on the wall to keep her standing because her knees are not exactly following her commands. She hopes Elena can get up without any help because there is no way she can let go of one of her support points to help her.

Elena stands up promptly, and lightly slaps her ass; Bobbi is not proud of it, but she mewls. There is something that sparks a flame on her about a tiny bit more of stimulation after she just had an orgasm.

“Next time you go commando on a mission, you are telling me, ¿entendido?” Bobbi nods, and tentatively tries to stand without the wall’s help. She succeeds. Sort of. “Especially if you are gonna be wearing something like that dress.” Elena circles Bobbi’s waist with one arm, placing her hand very boldly on Bobbi’s still exposed buttcheek, and slowly starts to walk her towards their bedroom. “I want to enjoy the anticipation too.”                      

*You make me this wet, love.

*I love when you speak Spanish to me.

***That’s my girl.