#not really mature content but he’s looking too seductively so I’m tagging as suggestive

[hallospooky]

He’s giving them bedroom eyes

[thetravelerwrites]

Salvatore (Cambion Incubus)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Human Female Reader x Male Incubus (Cambion) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Incubus, Cambion, Incubus Boyfriend, Monster Boyfriend, Asexual Monster, Asexual Incubus, Asexual Reader Content Warnings: Prostitution, Mention of Alcoholism, Strong Language, Use of a Slur, Open Discussion of Sex and Sexuality Words: 5270

Here it is! This story just poured out of me yesterday, and I hope you guys like Sal. I love him. He needs all the love he can get, the poor dear. Please leave feedback!

*Note: A Cambion is a half-human, half-Incubus/Succubus, originating in medieval European folklore.

The Traveler's Masterlist

How did you get talked into this? You hated bars. The smoke, the noise, the drunk girls falling all over themselves, the guys trying to get the drunk girls to go home with them. It was all tedious and you hated it.

It was supposed to be a celebration. You had just graduated from school with a business degree, and a bunch of friends suggested dinner. You didn’t realize dinner would be alcohol. You groaned as soon as you set foot into the place and just ordered a water. You sat in the corner and watched your friends get properly sloshed, grimacing into your glass and wishing you were somewhere else.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” A seductive voice asked. You looked up to see a man smirking down at you. He was dressed in a suit with no tie, his collar rakishly ruffled around his neck in what you guessed was supposed to be a fetching manner. He had reddish-brown hair and clear skin with a strong chin and straight eyebrows. His face was symmetrical, despite his lopsided grin, and he was leaning slightly over you.

“Avoiding people,” You muttered irritably.

“Does that include me?” He asked, winking.

You felt your face sneer. “Yes, that includes you.”

His head rocked back as if stunned. He seemed genuinely surprised at your answer. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Look, I’m sure your used to drunk chicks flinging themselves at you, but I’m not drunk and I’m not into you, so walk on, dude.”

He frowned and continued to stare at you. “You’re serious. You’re not attracted to me at all?”

You shook your head impatiently.

His frown deepened. “Strange. I’m normally pretty good at reading who’s gay and who’s not.”

“Ugh!” You exclaimed, setting your glass down so hard that you sloshed him with water and he took a half-step back. “Fucking typical! I’m not throwing myself at you, so I must be a dyke, right? I don’t have to be a lesbian to not want to fuck a random guy in a bar. Fuck you, asshole!”

You picked up your purse and coat and stormed out of the bar and into the empty parking lot, preparing to call a cab.

He followed you out. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“Leave me alone!” You yelled at him.

“Wait!”

“What?!” You screeched at him, and he stumbled to a stop behind you, a absolutely baffled look on his face.

“What are you?” He asked, staring at you hard.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked him, reaching into your bag for your taser.

“Are you… like me?” He asked earnestly. “Is that why you can see through me?”

“Dude, you’re going to have to be a lot more specific, because right now, you’re talking nonsense.”

“You’re a Cambion, right? Or are you full-blooded?”

“Full blooded what?”

“Succubus.”

You stared at him with a dumbfounded look on your face. “Ohhh,” You said slowly. “Okay, I get it now.”

“You do?” He said, his face hopeful.

“Yeah,” You said. “You’re fucking nuts.”

He growled and rolled his eyes. “No, look, I--” He started forward toward you and stopped when you pulled out the taser gun. “Alright, calm down.”

“You calm down, weirdo,” You said, your aim at him steady.

“I’m just trying to figure out why it’s not working!” He said. “It always worked before. I just trying to figure it out.”

“Why what’s not working?” You asked.

“This… whatever it is I do…” He gestured to himself in a vague annoyed way. “Charm, I guess you’d call it, but it’s more than that. It always works. I don’t even know what it is or why it works, but it always does.” He grunted in frustration. “I don’t know why it’s not working now.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but either you start making sense or you leave me the fuck alone.”

“Look.” He snarled.

Then his face began to change. His eyes went completely black and his mouth widened, revealing sharp teeth beyond his thin lips. Horns sprouted from his forehead and he seemed to grow taller, looming over you.

You jumped, and your finger accidentally pressed the trigger to the taser. He shouted when the barbs struck him and he hit the ground.

“Shit!” You said, dropping the taser and pulled the lines from him.

“You fucking tased me!” He shouted from the ground, his face and body returning to normal.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You said defensively, helping him back to his feet. You propped him up against the wall of the bar. He rubbed his shoulder, where the barbs had hit him. You just stared at him as he breathed hard. “What did you say you were?”

“A Cambion,” He said. “I’m half-human, half-succubus. Or is it incubus because I’m male?” His face as scrunched up, almost angry. “I dunno. Who cares?”

“So your mother was…”

“Obviously,” He said. “Succubi and incubi need to feed on people’s sexual energy to survive. Whatever it is that makes succubi attractive to people, I inherited some of it, but I also inherited the… hunger, I guess you’d say. I’m mostly human so I eat regular food, but every few days I get this… craving. I can ignore it for a while, but if it goes on too long, I get sick and weak. That’s when I go… well, hunting.”

“So you tried to prey on me, is that it?” You asked him.

“Tried and failed, it seems,” He said, fixing you with a confused stare.

“Why didn’t you go after any number of the other people in there?”

“I don’t hunt drunks. I may be a monster, but I’m not a monster, if you catch my drift. You were the only person in there who didn’t smell like booze. I’ve never failed before.”

“Ah, I think I understand now,” You said. “I’m asexual. I’m not attracted to you because I’m not attracted to anyone.”

He blinked, then blinked again. “You’re what?”

“Asexual,” You said again. “I don’t feel sexual attraction.”

“Like… at all?”

“Nope.”

“Have you ever had sex?” He asked

“Oh, yeah,” You replied. “It’s fine, but I can take it or leave it. It’s not as important to me as it seems to be to everyone else. College was rife with it. I don’t tell people I’m asexual because they either think it’s not a real thing or they think I’ll be ‘cured’ if I get fucked one good time. It’s exhausting. I tell most of my friends that I’m too busy with schoolwork for a boyfriend, which was fine during school, but now that I’ve graduated, it won’t be a good enough excuse.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzed and he looked at it, seemingly both annoyed and relieved.

“What?”

“It’s a client,” He said.

“It’s nearly one in the morning. What kind of client calls at this hour?”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“Oh,” You said, catching on.

“Hey, it’s good money,” He shrugged “And it keeps me fed and healthy, as long as I’m careful and use protection.”

“I’m not judging, man; do what you gotta do,” You said.

“I’d kind of like to talk about this whole… thing more, if you wouldn’t mind,” He said. “I have questions.”

“What would a person who lives on sex want to know about asexuals?” You asked.

“Well, mostly, I want to figure out if I am one,” He said seriously.

You were shocked at that answer. “Uh… okay. Well, I can meet you tomorrow, if you like. You know that diner on Fifth and Lowell?”

“Yeah, the one that has the really good pie?”

“Yeah. Meet me there at seven, if you’re not otherwise occupied. We can talk about it then.”

“Sure.” He smiled in a way that would have been flirtatious to anyone else, but perhaps that was just the way he smiled. “I’m Sal, by the way. See you.”

He got into a nice car at the end of the parking lot and drove off as you stepped under the awning of the bar to call a cab.

You arrived at the diner to see he was already there sitting at the bar, and he greeted you with a smile.

“Hey,” He said.

“Hey,” You replied, sitting on the stool next to him. “I’m glad you came.”

His smile widened. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would. This is all a little weird to me.”

“Well, I’m happy to answer any questions you have,” You said, ordering a cup of coffee and a pie. He did the same. “Why do you think you might be asexual?”

“Well,” He started, “First, explain it to me. Like, what do asexual people do or feel? Is it just no attraction or what?”

“Okay, well, there’s all kinds of different asexuals,” I began. “The term ‘asexuality’ simply means that you don’t experience sexual attraction for other people, but that doesn’t necessarily exclude sex or relationships altogether. Some are what you might call sex-repulsed, as in the very idea of sex is disgusting to them. Then there’s people like me, who are indifferent. Like, I like sex, but I don’t need to have it and don’t actively seek it out, but there are asexuals who have sex-drives, ones who do seek out sex because they enjoy it.”

“Okay,” He said slowly, trying to process it.

“Now,” You continued as the coffee and pie were placed in front of the both of you. “Just because you don’t feel sexual attraction doesn’t mean you don’t feel romantic attraction. I myself am bi-romantic. I can have romantic feelings and be in relationships with either men or women.”

“What’s the difference between a sexual relationship and a romantic relationship?”

“A romantic relationship is emotional, not physical.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship that wasn’t based entirely around sex?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, that might be a little hard to explain, then. It’s like being in love with your best friend in more than a friends way. Does that make sense?”

“No. All my friends have wanted to sleep with me.”

“Oh.” You took a bite of pie and backpedaled a bit. “So, explain to me what you feel about sex and I’ll try and help you figure it out.”

“I don’t… I don’t really feel attracted to the people I have sex with. Guy, girl, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s the sex I need, and even then, I don’t really like it. I just do it because my body compels me to. If I had any choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have sex at all.”

“So, maybe you’re sex-repulsed?”

“No, that’s not it exactly. Like, it doesn’t gross me out, but…” He pointed at his pie. “Take this, right? It’s really good pie, and while you’re eating it, you think ‘I could eat this all the time,’ right? But then say this was the only thing you could eat for an entire year. Eventually, you’d get sick of it. Right now it tastes great, but after your fiftieth piece, or your hundredth, it would start to taste like ashes, and the idea of putting another bite in your mouth would make you wish you could eat literally anything else. But it’s all you have and you have to eat it or you’d starve otherwise.”

He put his fork down and looked at the pie as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “That’s what sex feels like for me. I don’t hate it, I just don’t enjoy it.”

“Hmm,” You mused. “Maybe sex-neutral, then. But I’d definitely classify you as asexual, just from what you’ve told me.”

“An asexual incubus, huh?” He laughed. “Cosmic irony at its finest.”

“Do you think you’re the only one like you?” You asked him.

“I have no idea,” He said. “I’ve never met another… creature like me. I only know of my mother, and I’ve only heard expletives to describe her, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“You don’t know your mother?” You asked.

He frowned. “No. I was raised by my human dad. Begrudgingly.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “My dad was seduced by my mother at a very vulnerable time in his life. He was up for a big promotion at his job and about to get married to the love of his life. And then my mom came along and did what her kind do… what my kind do…” He gestured to himself and scowled.

“Someone caught them at it and told the woman he was supposed to marry. She broke it off, after which my dad started drinking and lost his job. And then I turned up on his doorstep a few months later, a reminder of the worst mistake he ever made.” Sal’s eyes were distant and cold. “He blamed her, and me, for ruining his life. I think the only thing that kept him from throwing me out was that when I was that young, I couldn’t control my form very well and he knew I’d be studied or killed. It was the only kindness he could muster for me.”

You were shocked to silence. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “He drank himself to death before I started college. By then, the hunger had kicked in. I started escorting to pay for classes, fucking my way through school blindly. I probably only graduated because the dean was a regular.”

You laid your hand on his in an effort to comfort him, only for him to snatch his hand away immediately.

“What are you doing?” He asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” You said, startled. “I… was just trying to be reassuring. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You said you were indifferent to sex,” He said, his eyes still narrowed.

“I am,” You shot back. “I wasn’t trying to--”

“People only touch me when they want to have sex with me,” He said.

“I was just showing you affection!” You retorted. “You seemed sad. I wanted to comfort you. That’s all it was, I swear.” You looked around you and saw two women in a booth. “Look. Look at them.”

He swiveled in his seat to peer at the two young women. One of them was clearly upset, though not actually crying, and the other hand her arm around her shoulders and was talking to her in a low, consoling tone.

“That girl, the one that’s upset, she’s not thinking about sex right now, I guarantee you that. And the girl with her arm around her is trying to comfort her friend. She’s not trying to seduce her.” You turned back to look at him. “That’s what people do when they care about each other. They comfort them. They’re affectionate. Touch isn’t inherently sexual, Sal. Holding a person’s hand doesn’t always mean that you want to sleep with them. Hasn’t anyone ever just held your hand because they wanted to be close and not because they were trying to fuck you?”

He looked at the two women with a deeply troubled look in his eyes. Abruptly, he stood and threw some money on the counter.

“I should go,” He said, turning and making a quick escape to the exit.

“Sal!” You got up and rushed after him.

“This was a mistake,” He said, opening his car door. “I know what I am. I don’t need this.”

“Sal, wait!”

“I don’t think it would be good for us to see each other again,” He said, slamming his door.

“Wait!” You cried as he started his car and sped off. You put a hand to your forehead and sighed heavily, confused and upset.

You didn’t see him again, either at the diner or the bar. Perhaps those weren’t normal haunts for him. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, though. The look on his face when he saw the two women stuck in your brain and you couldn’t get it out. He looked like he was in pain. It looked like agony.

A month later, you got a job at a casino hotel as an overnight concierge, because this is what a business degree got you, apparently. It wasn’t a bad job, just slow, and you had a lot of time to watch people coming and going, which was fairly interesting.

You’d been working there a while when you finally saw him again, exiting the elevator with another man. The man gave Sal an envelope, and Sal smiled seductively. The man came over to the desk to check out, and you saw Sal behind him, his face draining of color as he realized who you were.

You stayed professional as you checked out the man, who turned and smiled at Sal before walking off. Sal’s returning smile was a bit brittle, and he waited for the man to walk away before approaching you, looking a little embarrassed.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hey,” You replied.

“I, uh… I didn’t know you worked here,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I started a few weeks ago, and I just got transferred to nights.”

“Ah.” He stood there awkwardly, visibly uncomfortable. “Listen,” He said finally, not meeting your eye. “I’m sorry about what happened the last time we saw each other. I was just really confused and I thought, when you touched me, that you were coming on to me. I thought the whole asexual thing was a con to get me to open up to you, get my defenses down, and then sleep with you. Like you were trying to get a freebie, or something.”

“I wasn’t,” You insisted.

“No, I know,” He said. “I researched it a little after I stopped being weirded out. I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t know how to reach you. I realized I didn’t even ask you your name.”

You laughed and told him your name. “It’s okay,” You said. “I get it. It was a lot to process all at once. Look, I think you’ve been missing out on a lot because of this… hunger, as you call it. I mean, have you ever been on a date that you weren’t paid to go on or didn’t end in sex?”

He thought about it, and shook his head. “Nope, I can’t say I ever have.”

“Well, let me treat you, then,” You said. “How about dinner and a movie? And I promise not to fondle you at any point during the date. And you’re not getting a tip.”

He laughed. “Sounds nice. Tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” He said, sounding suddenly nervous. “Okay. Uh… here.” He wrote down his number on some hotel stationary. “Call me when you get out of here and we’ll work it out.”

“I will,” You said, smiling at him.

He seemed weirdly shy then, putting his hands in his pockets and backing away with a sweet smile on his face.

You called him as soon as you clocked out and agreed to meet him at six that evening, after you’d had some sleep. You met him at the theater, dressed for the first date you’d had since eleventh grade. He smiled when he saw you, dressed much like he had when you first met him, only he was wearing a tie this time.

“You look really nice,” He said.

“Thanks,” You said. “I like that tie.”

He chuckled nervously and petted it down. “Thanks. I haven’t worn a tie in a while.”

“What do you want to see?” You asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said, looking at the marquee. “To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve never gone to the theater and seen a movie all the way through. It usually ends up with someone getting a blowjob.”

You snorted. “Well, I can assure you that won’t happen in this case.”

He laughed again, looking relieved. “What about that one?”

“Oh, yeah, although to be honest, the actor in that one is wasted in this franchise. He could do so much better.”

“Right?” He said enthusiastically. “He needs more serious work. He’s going to get pigeonholed if he keeps doing these kinds of films.”

“Oh, my god, exactly,” You agreed. You bought the tickets and some snacks and took your seats. It was nice just sitting next to him. Throughout the movie, he kept looking over at you, as if to check if you were going to make a move or if you expected him to do so. Twice, his phone buzzed, likely from clients, and he ignored them both.

When the movie was over, you went to dinner, and he offered to pay since you had bought the movie tickets and snacks. He wanted the date to be equal, since it wasn’t a job. You said you were fine with that.

While sitting and talking about the movie, you noticed he was staring at your hand.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Well, I was thinking about what you said,” He replied thoughtfully. “About how not all touch is sexual. Sometimes people touch each other because they want to comfort them or offer them affection. I didn’t think much of it, but during the movie, they touched each other a lot, even though they didn’t have sex at the end. And I thought about it some more, and I’ve seen other people in real life do things like that, like hold hands and hug and things.”

“Right…” You said slowly.

“I was wondering…” He said, clenching his hands. “Can I try? With you? Just holding your hand, I mean.”

“Yeah, if you want to,” You said. You reached out across the table and linked your fingers with his lightly, not squeezing too hard in case he felt the need to pull away, stroking his thumb with yours. He stared at your linked hands with an indecipherable expression.

“Is this okay?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He replied softly. “It… feels nice.”

“It’s supposed to,” You said. “Things can feel good without being sexual.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” He said. After a moment or two, he withdrew his hand and continued eating.

He drove you home and walked you to the door.

“Every movie I’ve ever seen suggests this is either where we kiss or fuck. I’m not sure I want to do either of those things,” He laughed.

“That’s perfectly fine,” You said. “What about a hug instead?”

He smiled. “A hug sounds nice.”

You slipped your arms around his waist and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laying his cheek on the top of your head. He held you for several moments.

“I like this a lot,” He said softly into your hair.

“How about a second date, then? You can pick what we do next time,” You said, turning your face up to look at him.

He smiled, but it slipped from his face slowly and he frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Does it bother you?” He asked with a worried expression. “The fact that I’m, for want of a better word, a prostitute? That I’m… not all human?”

“The not-quite-human thing is a little weird, I’ll admit, but it doesn’t bother me. If we were planning to have sex, I might feel a little uncomfortable about your job, but as long as you’re using protection and getting yourself checked and doing what you need to do to be safe and healthy, I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” He said, unsure if he believed you.

“Of course,” You said. You squeezed his waist tightly and he grinned at you.

“That’s a relief.”

For the next date, he took you swimming. For the next, you took him dancing. The next, he surprised you with a three day trip out of town.

The second day there, he became surly and taciturn, not his normal sweet, unintentionally flirty self.

“What’s wrong,” you asked him.

He sighed angrily. “I’m… hungry.” He said. “I haven’t had a client in a week. It’s the slow season. Normally I’d go out and just find someone to supplement it, but that feels like cheating now that I’m with you.”

“Oh,” You replied. “Do you… want me to…

“No!” He said. “Not here. Not with you.”

Your head rocked back and you must have made a face, because he looked apologetic and said, “No, I don’t mean it like that. You’re very important to me. I don’t want to see you like I see my clients, like food. That’s not what you are.”

“Well, I want to help,” You said. “What can I do?”

He sighed when he felt your touch. “Just touch me, okay?”

“Sal,” You began, putting your hand on his back and rubbing it slowly. “Hasn’t anyone ever done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Touched you just to touch you?”

“No,” He said, his head in his hands. “People usually have ulterior motives.”

You thought about it. “Lean back.”

He lifted his head and peered at you, confused, but complied. You moved to straddle his waist.

“What are you…” He started suspiciously, but you stopped him.

“Do you trust me?” You asked him.

“Yes…” He said slowly, still eyeing you.

You took your hands and very slowly began to map the contours of his face with your fingertips, starting with his cheekbones, brushing your hands around his ears and running your fingers through his hair. His eyes closed and he inhaled as though he’d never breathed real air before. You drew your index finger over his brow and down his jaw and pressed your forehead against his.

“Sal,” You asked him softly. “Has anyone ever loved you before? Anyone?”

His eyes opened wide and he looked at you, completely at a loss for words. He seemed to be searching for an answer and coming up empty. His face crumpled and a tear leaked from one of his eyes. You pulled him into a tight hug as he began to weep into your shoulder, your hand in his hair. He gripped you as though falling, gulping air into his lungs.

He seemed so taken by surprise at the question, and the reaction could only have been a genuine one. You wondered if he even realized it before you pointed it out.

“Shh, honey,” You whispered in his ear. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here with you.”

He looked up at you with wide, wet eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” You answered honestly. “But… I think I’m starting to. I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy with you,” He said. “Even when I’m hungry, I feel better when I’m with you. It doesn’t hurt so bad when you’re with me. I don’t know why.”

You stood up and took him by the hand.

“It’s late,” you said. “Why don’t we get to bed? Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

He sighed and got to his feet. You went into the bedroom and changed into your night clothes. You didn’t mind letting him see you naked, trusting that he wouldn’t need to control any impulses around you. You were the same with him, and he was comfortable letting you see him change, too.

Although, he was still hesitant to show you his true form. You had convinced him to show it to you once, the full experience and not just the sample on the night you first met, but he seemed to worry that you’d eventually grow frightened of him. You told him you just wanted him to trust you enough that he felt being comfortable in his own skin around you. He said that would take time, and you understood.

You got into bed, and instead of putting space between the two of you, like you had been doing, you pulled him close and pressed your cheek to his. He touched your breast hesitantly, as if to test you, and you shook your head with a wry smile. He breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled into your body.

And you touched him. You petted up and down his back. You played with his hair. You traced his smile. All of it was loving, none of it was sexual. When you pressed a kiss to his lips, the first time you had ever done so, it was a soft, sweet kiss, lip on lip, slight pressure, no expectation for more. When you pulled back, he had tears in his eyes again. You kissed his eyelids and he breathed a soft laugh against your cheek.

You were gentle and tender and made it clear you didn’t expect him to reciprocate unless it’s what he wanted to do. It took some time, but eventually, he began to touch you tentatively, trying to learn. He stroked your shoulder and caressed your face. He planted a kiss on your lips, mirroring the one you gave him, if a bit longer.

Eventually, he fell asleep with his nose in your hair and his arms clutching you to him tightly, breathing deeply and contentedly.

He woke in the morning with a bright smile on his face.

You laughed. “See? I told you you’d feel better.”

“I feel wonderful,” He said. “I don’t feel hungry at all. Quite the opposite, actually, I feel like I’ve been on a binge.”

“Maybe sex isn’t what you needed all along,” You said, holding him close. “Maybe you just thought it was because you hadn’t experienced anything else.”

He pulled back so that he could look at you, frowning. “Could I have been doing this wrong the whole time?”

“Maybe,” You said. “I suppose we’ll find out, my love.”

A slow smile split his face. “Say that again.”

“My love.”

His smile cracked his cheeks. “Good. Now say it all the time forever.”

You laughed and kissed him.

“Hmm,” He said, looking passed you in thought. “I wonder if I should still be an escort. If sex isn’t what I need to survive, there’s no reason for me to keep doing it. I do have a degree in medieval literature.”

“Yeah, good luck getting a job with that degree that’s not prostitution,” You said, laughing.

He hit you with a pillow. “Really, though. I think I should quit. It feels kind of weird now that I have a girlfriend. And if I don’t have to have sex, I don’t want to have sex.”

“Well, whatever you do, I will support you, honey,” You said.

“I appreciate that.” He sank back into your arms and looked at you seriously. “If I do quit, what’ll happen if I do need sex again?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it,” You assured him. “But to be honest, I don’t think that’s what you need to be healthy. I think you need what we all need. You need love. You’ve just never had it before.”

“I’m glad I have it now,” He said, pressing his head against your shoulder, dotting chaste kisses along your skin. “I’m sorry I tried to prey on you, and I’m still a little mad that you shot me with a taser, but it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never felt this good before. I want to feel like this forever.”

“I won’t be around forever,” You told him. “And we may not love each other forever. But I can promise you that, at the very least, you will always have a friend who will never expect you to have sex with them.”

He barked a loud laugh. “I can live with that,” He said happily, cuddling you close.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[celtic7irish]

A Safe Space

Title: A Safe Place

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13342515

Square Filled: B1 - Nesting

Ship: Tony x Bucky

Rating: Mature

Major Tags: None

Summary: Nesting: The act of cuddling and other such public displays of affection in an open area. Also, the act of settling yourself into a cozy convenient corner of your bedroom and surrounding yourself with all the comforts of your many vices. Also, the act of leaving small stashes of your things in various places in a random and unorganized manner.Or: Bucky has a safe space of his own. Tony likes to spend time in it. 

Word Count: 3683

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Full Text Below:

When Bruce moved into the Tower, Tony made a space just for him. He had a lab – three labs, actually – and an entire floor to live on.  There was a room for meditation, and another that could be locked down if Bruce transformed.  There were exotic teas from the world over, and a library stacked floor to ceiling with books that covered every genre and subject imaginable.  There were tablets and holo-displays and servers keyed to his unique gamma signature.  It was everything Bruce could have ever wanted, and far more than he’d ever dared to hope for.

As the rest of the Avengers trickled in, one or two at a time, Tony did the same for them. Clint had a full-size shooting range; Natasha had a dance studio.  They shared an armory.  Steve had a gym and a track that could be raised or lowered, or have hurdles or pitfalls.  He also had a room filled with things from the forties, and tech that was a bit more old-fashioned and less complicated.  He had a library as well.  Thor’s room was done in as close a proximity to Asgardian décor as Tony could figure out from the vivid descriptions the blonde prince enjoyed regaling them with.

Tony’s floor, however, was as Spartan and cold as if nobody lived there at all. The furniture was sleek leather, the technology high-end.  The fridge and bar were always stocked, the bathroom always pristine.  Even the bedroom looked like nobody slept there, though the whole team had seen him go up to the Penthouse to sleep off a four-day engineering binge.

Tony’s workshop was the exact opposite, though, covered in half-completed projects and decorated with drawings made by the bots. There was a mini fridge and a comfortable couch.  Tools were scattered about in organized chaos that only Tony and his bots seemed to understand.  Snacks were hidden in drawers and on shelves, and the stools and chairs were designed with comfort in mind.

The Avengers rarely had cause to go to the Penthouse, which was why it took them so long to notice the changes. It started shortly after Barnes moved in, warily following Steven into the Tower, ready  to bolt at the first sign of danger.  Tony had taken one look at the soldier’s cybernetic arm and had practically kidnapped the man, spending hours with him in the workshop.

Barnes, one he’d realized that Tony had no intention of hurting him or experimenting on him, was content to stay down in Tony’s workshop with him, playing with the bots and pestering Tony about modern technology. It turned out that Barnes was a bit of a science nerd, and Tony was all too happy to answer his incessant questions.

Steve was the first one to realize something was going on when Bucky stopped sleeping in the floor that Tony had set aside for him. Questioning Jarvis proved fruitless as the AI adamantly refused to break the privacy protocols set in place by Tony, stating only that Sergeant Barnes was not in danger, nor was he a a danger to any of the Tower’s residents.

Steve cornered Bucky a few days later after one of their morning runs, and Bucky cheerfully told him to mind his own damn business. Steve opened his mouth to press the issue, but Bucky ignored him in favor of greeting Tony, who was staggering drunkenly down the hall.

“You’re a mess,” Bucky told him, gripping his arm carefully and steering him away from the wall he’d been about to run into. “C’mon, bed.”

Tony looked up at the soldier and gave a long, slow blnk, swaying on his feet. “Hm?” he mumbled absently.

“Bed,” Bucky repeated in mild exasperation. “Y’know, that monstrosity you’ve got up a coupla floors?”  He was grinning, not bothering to hide his fond amusement at the genius’ apparent confusion.  Steve just watched in mild consternation, knowing that he was missing something, but not sure what.

Tony blinked. “Oh, yes,” he agreed.  “It’s a very nice bed.”  He tipped his head to the side and gave Bucky a smile that Steve wall all too familiar with.  “Your Nest is better, though,” he added.  Steve could hear the capitalization.

“Buck-“ he started, but the other man glared at him so darkly that he snapped his mouth closed abruptly.

The soldier turned back to Tony once he was satisfied that Steve wasn’t going to interrupt, his expression softening as he gave the genius a pleased smile. “You really think so?” he asked.

“Yep,” Tony nodded, leaning tiredly against Bucky. “’S comfortable.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Bucky told him. Steve was left to stare after them in stunned surprise as the two men made their way down the hall and to the lift.

“Hey, Buck?” he called, just before the two men entered the elevator. Barnes looked back at him curiously, and Steve sighed.  “Try to get him to sleep more than two hours, yeah?” he asked, as close as he could manage to giving them his blessing.

Bucky’s grin was blinding. “Yeah,” he agreed, just before the doors to the lift closed on them, whisking them away.

Away from the prying eyes of Captain America, Tony straightened up with an exaggerated yawn, stretching enticingly so that the hem of his tank top lifted, revealing a strip of tanned skin by his waist. He grinned wickedly at Bucky, who was smirking back at him.  “Think that did it?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged. “He’s been side-eyein’ me for days now,” he grouched.  “I figured it was ‘bout time we helped him out a bit.  I hate seein’ him worry like that, like he’s scared I’ll run off if he asks me somethin’.”

Tony leaned into him more firmly. “He’ll be fine,” he reassured him.  “Besides,” he pointed out slyly, “I’m pretty sure we just smacked him over the head with a sledgehammer.”  Bucky’s metal arm slid easily around his shoulder, a familiar weight by now.  “So now what?” Tony purred seductively.

Bucky nuzzled against him, pressing lips to the top of Tony’s head. “Well, Stevie did suggest that I try to get you sleep for ‘more than two hours’,” he suggested hopefully.

Tony snorted. “Gotta wear me out before that,” he shot back.

Barnes moved suddenly, before Tony could react to the change in position, gripping him at the hips and shoving him back against the wall of the lift, one firm thigh sliding between Tony’s legs. “Oh, I plan to,” he growled teasingly, a hint of challenge in his gaze.

Tony grinned. “Oh, excellent,” he sighed happily.  He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, not the least bit surprised when the soldier got a double-handful of his ass and lifted him clear off the floor as soon as the doors opened, carrying him out of the lift and through the Penthouse to the bedroom.  And to Bucky’s large, comfortable nest.

Barnes had been so skittish when he’d first arrived, and Tony had set Jarvis to monitoring him – discretely, of course. Mostly so he’d know if he needed to run interference with Steve, since the blonde idiot was far too reckless with his own safety.  Besides booby-trapping his quarters, Barnes had taken to sleeping under the bed.  At least it was clean, and Barnes had only busted up on cleaner bot before he’d realized that they were harmless.  Still, Tony had fixed the bot and reprogrammed it to only attend to Barnes’ rooms when he was in the gym or the shower or something.  There had been on further incidents.

Gradually, items had started to go missing from around the Tower. Mostly Steve’s stuff, of course, but also some of Tony’s, surprisingly.  It had taken him a while to get up the nerve to confront Barnes about his thieving habits, but the soldier had sheepishly admitted that with his enhanced senses, he needed to surround himself with comfortable, familiar things.  It was something that Hydra hadn’t allowed, but now that he could indulge without fear of punishment, he couldn’t seem to stop.  Soft blankets that scented of Steve.  Fluffy towels and plush pillows.  Old, worn flannels.  They all made their way to Bucky’s room.

Tony had kind of understood why he’d taken Steve’s stuff – the guy had been his best friend for forever, and even know, Steve only wanted to help Barnes. But that still didn’t explain why some of his own stuff had gone missing.  Until Barnes had pointed out that the whole Tower belonged to him, that the Tower was, in its own way, a fortress to protect those inside of it.  And so Barnes had quickly come to associate Tony with protection and safety.  Especially after spending so much time in the lab, and seeing the weapons and armor he made for the team, to aid and protect them in battle.

Even so, he’d continued to sleep under the bed, despite Steve’s best efforts to the contrary. Even Sam had tried speaking to the soldier, but it hadn’t done any good.  Not until Tony had asked Barnes what he needed in order to feel safe.  And Barnes, perhaps surprised that somebody was actually asking him what he needed rather than trying to tell him, had admitted that he needed to wake up not alone.  It couldn’t be Steve, though, because despite Barnes fighting his conditioning, Steve was still an unfinished mission, and Barnes wasn’t willing to risk waking up as the Winter Soldier and actually killing the other man.

Tony had considered that for all of thirty seconds before suggesting that Barnes come stay in the Penthouse. Jarvis watched over Tony, and the armor was never far away, should it be needed.  It had taken about a week of coaxing, but Barnes had eventually agreed, and had brought his nest up to Tony’s bedroom.  It was actually a mutually beneficial arrangement, because knowing that Bucky needed somebody to be there when he woke up actually led to Tony going up to bed more often than not.  Sometimes he even managed a couple hours of sleep while he was there.

And then, one night, Tony had suffered a nightmare. He couldn’t even remember what it had been about now; Afghanistan or space or having his heart ripped out or drowning.  It didn’t really matter.  But he had woken up screaming, and Barnes had grabbed him and brought him to the nest and curled up against him, just holding him until he’d quieted.  Tony had slept undisturbed for a solid six hours, far more than he usually got these days.

After that, it had become rather commonplace for the two men to sleep in the nest that Bucky had built. The soldier had even started adding a few items from the other Avengers into the nest.  The first time Tony had found one of Bruce’s slightly large button-ups buried under a pile of soft blankets, he’d laughed.  And then proceeded to kiss Bucky senseless.

There had been some painful conversations made in the nest, too, the two men curled up so that they faced away from each other, as Bucky admitted to having killed his parents, as Tony admitted to having known about it for years prior. Tony had spoken haltingly of Howard and Obie and the Ten Rings, and Barnes had spoken of the war and Hydra and cryo.

Today, though, there would be no talking about the hard, painful things that each of them had been through, no confessing of sins or absolution of them. Just love and patience, and skin against skin.

Tony was squirming impatiently before his lover had even set him down. “Just…here….lemme,” he growled, helping Bucky shove both their shirts over their heads.  He lifted his hips obligingly so Bucky could tug his sweatpants down and off, then sprawled out on the blankets, watching with avid delight as Bucky efficiently removed his own jeans – by virtue of tearing them with his metal hand, the zipper breaking and a button dropping down into the nest.  Tony palmed it, then burrowed his hand under a bunch of pillows and blankets before releasing it, leaving the button as just another part of the nest, like the various wires and knife sheaths and leather straps that were already there. He preferred the blankets and pillows and clothing, himself, but this was Bucky’s Nest, and if he wanted to have knife sheaths and straps from Steve’s uniform – before Tony had improved it yet again, of course – then that was fine, too.

Propped up on a mound of pillows, Tony enjoyed the teasing, tickling sensation of the faux fur against his spine and sides as Bucky dropped to his knees, pinning Tony with one leg on either side of Tony’s thighs, looking down at him with dark, predatory eyes. Tony looked back just as intensely.  “You know, I could get you real fur pillows,” he pointed out reasonably.

Bucky grinned. “Naw, I like the fake stuff,” he said, leaning down to drop a kiss on Tony’s upturned lips.  “Nothing got killed for it.”  And there was something darker in that statement, something that they’d probably talk about eventually.  But not today.

Tony reached for his lover. “Fine, then,” he mock-groused.  “Keep it.  But I get to choose the next addition.”  And hadn’t that been something of a surprise, discovering that he also enjoyed nesting?  He’d always thought that the terms related only to mothers-to-be, bustling about the home preparing it for a newborn.  But to his knowledge, his mother had never bothered, content to let the servants handle everything.  And this was different, anyhow.  This was creating a safe space and surrounding themselves with family and friends, even when those members weren’t actually present.

“Sure,” Bucky agreed. “As long as it isn’t somethin’ stupid.”

Tony just laughed, already picturing his fluffiest robe, crimson with a gold trim. It had been something of a joke-gift from Rhodey, but Tony loved the stupid thing and had worn it often when he’d been alone in the Penthouse, after his breakup with Pepper.  There had been something comforting about the soft warmth of it.  Kind of like Bucky’s nest, he supposed.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” he teased.

Bucky huffed in mock-annoyance, but shifted so that his body rested firmly on top of Tony’s, skin to skin. His metal fingers were tracing idle patterns on Tony’s right shoulder, sending tickling shivers down his arm.  “Enough talkin’,” Bucky told him, then suited words to action and kissed him, hard and possessive.

Tony moaned happily into the kiss, squirming under Bucky’s bulk, relishing in the pressure and heat radiating off the other man. Barnes was like a furnace, making the nest warm and comfortable.  He let his legs slip a bit further open, drawing Barnes further down on him.  “Lube?” he murmured as Bucky trailed a line of kisses and sharp nips across his chin and down his throat. Bucky latched onto the cord of his throat and started pulling blood to the surface.  His right hand fumbled around the raised, padded edge of the nest before coming up and showing Tony the small bottle of lube.

Tony hummed approvingly, his hand tangled in Bucky’s hair, resting on his head while the other man gave him a hickey to rival all hickeys. “Possessive son of a bitch, aren’t you?” he said happily.

Barnes answered him by flipping open the cap and somehow managing to get the lube on his fingers without dumping it. “Hm…dexterity,” Tony murmured.

Bucky muffled his chuckle against Tony’s throat. “Motivation,” he countered, fingers already teasing at Tony’s hole, calluses catching on the rim and making Tony gasp at the slightly rough sensation.  “Not gonna mess up the nest before I get a chance to mess you up in it,” he leered.

Tony arched, pressing back and down into Bucky’s touch, hoping to entice him to go faster. Instead, Bucky pulled away entirely, and Tony let out a low growl, his eyes narrowing at the other man.  Bucky just twisted away, leaning over the edge of the nest – and giving Tony a very nice view of his ass and the muscles in his back and shoulders and thighs – and grabbing something.

“Turn over?” he suggested coyly, turning his head to meet Tony’s gaze and smirking when he realized that Tony wasn’t watching his face at all.

Tony sighed, aggrieved, but did as he’d been asked, twisting over onto his front and lifting himself up on hands and knees. He generally preferred to be able to see his partners, to make sure they were enjoying themselves, but this way could be fun, too.  Bucky draped himself over Tony’s back, his weight pressing down on him and forcing Tony to use both arms to hold himself up.  Bucky’s cock pressed enticingly against Tony’s ass, and the genius shoved back, trying to get the other man to do something.

Bucky settled something below Tony, who glanced down and laughed at the ugly, yellowish-brown towels. He was sure there was a proper name for the color, but the fact remained that it was ugly, and therefore could be incinerated.  And it would keep them from messing up the nest.  Probably.

Bucky shifted again, lube-slicked fingers circling Tony’s hole again, occasionally dipping inside. Tony huffed.  “I don’t have all day,” he pointed out.  “I’ve got a board meeting in the morning, so if you want to get any sleep tonight, you should probably pick up the pace,” he suggested.

He got a sharp nip at the dip of his spine for his trouble, but Bucky moved them along, sliding the first finger inside and crooking it before dragging it back out slowly, letting it catch on Tony’s skin on the way out. Tony sighed in pleasure, his head dropping.  He was tempted to reach down and stroke himself, but Bucky’s metal hand resting between his shoulder blades stopped that; the bastard would probably knock him off-balance if he tried it.

Bucky’s tongue was tracing random designs on Tony’s skin, teeth nipping occasionally, and Tony squirmed impatiently. “Always so impatient,” Bucky chided, but his tone was amused, and Tony just turned his head to smirk at him.

“Or maybe you’re just not that good, soldier,” he challenged. Bucky’s eyes darkened, and the next thrust of his fingers – they were up to three now, when had that happened? – pressed ruthlessly against Tony’s prostate, making him shudder and jerk forward with a grunt, sparks shooting through him as he trembled, his arms nearly collapsing under him.

“You sure about that?” Bucky teased him, pressing a gentle kiss to the dip in his spine. His other hand pressed down on Tony’s back, encouraging him to drop to the bedding as Bucky straightened up, pulling his fingers free and slicking himself up before pressing in, as careful as ever.  Tony whined, but didn’t try to push back.  Bucky had explained, very seriously, that he’d hurt so many people over the years as the Winter Soldier that he never wanted to hurt anyone ever again, in any way.  And he was a lot to take in all at once without at least a little bit of pain, so Tony let him set the pace.  To reward him, Bucky fitted his metal hand against Tony’s left hip to support himself, the fingers cool and slick against Tony’s sweat-soaked skin.  

Once he was fully seated, Tony panting below him with the urge to just move, Bucky reached around and gripped him firmly, and then started moving, his thrusts pushing Tony forward into his grip and then back again, chasing after the pleasure. The pillows below him had been scattered, and Tony’s cheek was pressed to a soft fleece blanket that smelled of gunpowder and Old Spice – not the modern-day stuff, but the original.  The kind that Tony imagined his grandfather might have worn, if he’d ever known the man.  There was also the fresh scent that accompanied fresh laundry, but it was muted, subtle.  The blanket smelled of Bucky, and Tony turned to press his nose against it, breathing in the scent of the man that was all around him, in and over and holding him secure.

Bucky was murmuring words of praise and devotion into his skin, and the words swept through Tony, making him shudder with him. He might have been begging, his words muffled by the blankets, but Bucky knew what he needed.  He always knew.  His grip tightened, and he slid his metal hand down, stroking the cool metal lightly up Tony’s chest and across his nipples before coming to rest lightly on the side of his throat.  There was no threat there, no inherent danger, but Tony could hear the soft shifting of the metal as the tiny plates shifted, calibrating to keep from pinching, and he cried out as he came, feeling Bucky stiffen behind him, giving a few more hard thrusts before coming as well, a cry wrung from his throat even as his orgasm tore through his body.

Bucky’s weight settled heavily against Tony, who turned his head enough that he could breathe, but otherwise didn’t move, enjoying the weight and the warmth. “Mmm,” he mumbled in appreciation.  Bucky answered with a grunt, and Tony smiled.

After several long moments, and before Tony got too terribly uncomfortable, Bucky pushed himself up with a grunt and staggered in the direction of the bathroom. He came back with a wash cloth and cleaned Tony up, then tossed both the wash cloth and towel across the room, in the general direction of the hamper, before settling back down on his side.  Tony rolled into him, content to let his lover hold him, his face buried in the other man’s throat.

Bucky rummaged around for a moment before tugging up yet another blanket and draping it over the two sated men. “Mmm…like cuddling,” he admitted quietly.

Tony grinned, burrowing further down in the nest so that he was completely surrounded by comforting scents .

“Yeah,” he agreed, already halfway to dozing. “Me, too.”