insurgents | OPEN POST.

He tries his best to act casual and keep eating his eggs while her foot slides farther up his thigh, but he fails completely. His throat closes up a little and he ends up trying to swallow the knot there, licking his lips.

"Right. Always."

Yeah he's onto you, Trish.

She does a pretty fair job at the whole acting casual thing, though it does take quite some effort when she reaches his groin, lightly pressing her foot against his cock.

Wow, she is the meanest girlfriend ever, isn't she?

"So glad you agree with me."

She really is, the meanest and most cruel. Bruce actually has to set down his fork, resting his elbows on the table and holding his hands together, peering at her over his threaded fingers.

Never mind food. He can barely breathe or think when the sole of her foot presses against his cock as it is.

"I wasn't... serious."

Yeah, Trish has to give up on the food as well because the look in his eyes... Yeah, it doesn't really make eating a possibility.

She rubs him through his underwear, very gentle and very careful.

"Really? I had no idea."

At least she can still manage banter.

Unsurprisingly, he's quickly getting hard again, bulge growing in response to the ministrations of her foot. He gasps when she rubs along his length in a particularly thorough way, his eyes closing and his head dropping so his forehead rests on his hands.

"Jesus, Trish..."

His legs tense, knees drawing a little closer together.

Fuck, but she loves feeling him get hard. She takes the closing of his legs as a sign that she needs to ease off and so she does, removing her foot and getting out of her seat to walk around the table leaning against the edge next to him and running her fingers through his hair.

"Sorry, I'm being terrible."

He felt pretty confident that he could've managed those ministrations for a while longer, but he still sighs in relief when she draws back, even if it's with a soft little whine at the loss of that contact. He drops his hands, one arm resting on the table while the other reaches for her, wrapping around her waist when she comes closer.

"it's alright."

He smiles at her, her fingers in his hair relaxing him again.

"I'm sorry, Trish. It's just... complicated."

"Hey, I know. You don't have anything to apologise for."

She bends down to kiss the top of his head, fingers still sifting through his hair when she straightens up.

He still feels a little bad, knowing the limitations he has, and how much more she wants to do but can't because of him. He's grateful for her words and her tender gestures anyway, tilting his head and shifting closer so that his forehead rests against her waist, his arms curling around her.

"You're so good to me."

She pushes his plate back a little so that she can shift to the side, stepping over his legs with one foot so that he's sitting between her legs. She strokes his hair with both hands, heart aching with how much she loves him.

"Because you're good to me. I think that's what they call 'being in a relationship'. So we have limitations, lots of couples do."

He draws back a little as she settles a leg to his other side, his hands again resting around her waist as he shifts a little closer. Her words are comforting, they always are, but the last bit does get a chuckle out of him.

"Our limitations aren't exactly the same as other couple's, though."

"Sure, most women don't have to worry about getting their boyfriends too excited or he might level the building, but my point is that I love you, just as I would love you if you... I don't know, couldn't feel anything below the waist or had no arms or whatever. Those things would mean there was stuff we couldn't do as well, and it wouldn't change a thing about how I feel about you."

She cups his face in her hands and leans down to give him a soft, tender kiss.

"Just like the other guy won't ever change how much I love you."

It's actually a pretty helpful enough comparison, even if not the same. She's right, they're not the only couple with limitations when it comes to intimacy and sex, and though being able to turn into a massive green rage monster isn't exactly the kind of thing other people have to worry about, he still gets what she means.

He closes his eyes, returning the kiss, his arms curling a little tighter around her as he shifts closer. He's smiling when she pulls away, and he gives her a small nod, then turns his head and leans in to rest the side of his face against her stomach.

"I don't know how I ever thought I could survive without you."

"Yeah, that was pretty stupid of you."

Obviously she's kidding, you can always keep on living after all, both of them are a testament to that in their own ways.

She strokes his hair with one hand, the other lightly resting on his shoulder, and she can't seem to stop smiling because she is just so damn happy that they're together again.

He smiles a little, more to himself considering she can't see his face from this angle.

"For a genius, I can be pretty stupid sometimes."

Kidding or not, that much he does agree with, yes.

She can hear the smile in his voice, and that is more than enough even if it is one of her favourite things to see in the world.

"If you were smart all the time I'd just get an inferiority complex anyway so it's all good."

He lets out a chuckle, turning his head a little to brush his nose against her stomach, kissing it over the t-shirt before he glances up at her.

"That would just be silly."

There is an odd sort of "we're having a baby" feeling about their positions right now that Trish finds somewhat amusing, looking down at him and tracing the bridge of his nose with a fingertip.

"Yeah well if you get to have unnecessary hangups then so do I."

No such thought even crosses Bruce's mind, which may as well be for the best, considering that something like that would strike him more as depressing than amusing. He hasn't even brought that up with her, yet-- but then he hasn't seen the need to do so up until now.

"Please. You're just as smart as I am. The only difference is that I make dumb science jokes that no one laughs at."

It's just another bridge they'll cross when they get to it.

"I'd laugh but you'd know I was acting."

"Well, I don't know. I'm sure you can be a very good actress when you want to be."

One way or the other, though, he wouldn't mind. He was just exaggerating there anyway - some people have laughed at a few of his jokes. (And some have laughed at him rather than the jokes but never mind that.)

"Pretty sure most of my acting fame came from my mom giving out lots of blowjobs."

She winces.

"Wow, that got kinda dark. Sorry."

He draws away at that, sitting back on his chair and looking up at her with a frown on his face.

"No, that's... alright." He pauses, a little hesitant. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do I want to talk about my crazy and abusive mother? Not really."

She folds her arms across her chest and sighs.

"All that mattered to her was Patsy. That's what she always called me. Even when I told her I wanted to be Trish."

"Hey, hey."

He reaches for her arms, tugging lightly on them and hoping that'll be enough for her to let that tension unwind. He recognizes a defensive stance when he sees one, and he wants her to know she doesn't need to put up barriers like that when she's around him.

"You don't have to talk about it. If you ever feel like venting, I'll be here to listen. If not, that's fine by me too. Alright? I mean, I... there's things I don't talk about either."

Probably more similar to her own than he even knows yet, but.

"What matters is that you are Trish. And I like Trish."

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