“Oh, you’re in a bad way, aren’t you?” Andy remarked gently, stroking her fingers through Booker’s hair. It had been a rough mission, one of the worst ones since he had come back to them, and she had lost count of how many times he had died in agony. Even now that they were back home and safe, he was struggling to let go; she could read the tension in every line of his body, the way his shoulders were hunched, his mouth a tight line, had noticed how he had snarked at the others the whole drive back.
He pressed into her touch as much as possible, nodding. “Please help me, boss,” he begged and she nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “C’mere, Book,” she beckoned, patting her lap, and he climbed up onto her, curling his legs a bit awkwardly underneath him. “Relax, darling, I’ve got you,” she shushed, shrugging her sweater off to reveal her bare chest.
He didn’t need any instructions, he knew just what she was offering and he knew the relief that it could bring him. He cupped her left breast in his hand, worshipful, and sealed his mouth around her nipple. The angle wasn’t quite right initially, and she hissed in sensitivity, nudging at him to move. He shifted a little bit down and latched on properly and oh, that was much better.
“That’s right, darling,” she encouraged, carding her fingers through his hair. “Just take what you need, I’ve got you.” It felt good, his mouth on her—not just the physical sensation of him suckling gently at her breast, but the knowledge that she was taking care of him, that her body was the instrument that could bring him calm.
“My best boy,” she said fondly as she opened the briefing report Copley had sent over about their next mission, starting to read through it. She became so engrossed in the report that she paid almost no attention to the man happily curled up in her lap, until his tongue swiped over her nipple and she groaned. “Booker, baby,” she called, but she could tell that he wasn’t paying attention, was too far gone. Her hands went to his cheeks, pulled him off of her, and he whined, his eyes glazed. “It’s okay,” she calmed him. “I just need you to switch, that one’s getting too sensitive.” She slowly fed her other breast into his mouth, sighing as he latched on.
It was about fifteen minutes later that Quynh walked in, her eyes softening as she saw the two of them curled up on the couch. She leaned down to give Andy a kiss hello, then pressed a kiss to the top of Booker’s head where he was bent over Andy, suckling softly at her. “Good to see you relaxed again, pet,” she told Booker. “I can take over,” she offered to Andy, sitting next to her and curling up against her side, shrugging her sweater off. “Whatever he needs.”
Fill: Andy/Booker/Quynh, subspace, comfort, nursing kink
“Oh, you’re in a bad way, aren’t you?” Andy remarked gently, stroking her fingers through Booker’s hair. It had been a rough mission, one of the worst ones since he had come back to them, and she had lost count of how many times he had died in agony. Even now that they were back home and safe, he was struggling to let go; she could read the tension in every line of his body, the way his shoulders were hunched, his mouth a tight line, had noticed how he had snarked at the others the whole drive back.
He pressed into her touch as much as possible, nodding. “Please help me, boss,” he begged and she nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “C’mere, Book,” she beckoned, patting her lap, and he climbed up onto her, curling his legs a bit awkwardly underneath him. “Relax, darling, I’ve got you,” she shushed, shrugging her sweater off to reveal her bare chest.
He didn’t need any instructions, he knew just what she was offering and he knew the relief that it could bring him. He cupped her left breast in his hand, worshipful, and sealed his mouth around her nipple. The angle wasn’t quite right initially, and she hissed in sensitivity, nudging at him to move. He shifted a little bit down and latched on properly and oh, that was much better.
“That’s right, darling,” she encouraged, carding her fingers through his hair. “Just take what you need, I’ve got you.” It felt good, his mouth on her—not just the physical sensation of him suckling gently at her breast, but the knowledge that she was taking care of him, that her body was the instrument that could bring him calm.
“My best boy,” she said fondly as she opened the briefing report Copley had sent over about their next mission, starting to read through it. She became so engrossed in the report that she paid almost no attention to the man happily curled up in her lap, until his tongue swiped over her nipple and she groaned. “Booker, baby,” she called, but she could tell that he wasn’t paying attention, was too far gone. Her hands went to his cheeks, pulled him off of her, and he whined, his eyes glazed. “It’s okay,” she calmed him. “I just need you to switch, that one’s getting too sensitive.” She slowly fed her other breast into his mouth, sighing as he latched on.
It was about fifteen minutes later that Quynh walked in, her eyes softening as she saw the two of them curled up on the couch. She leaned down to give Andy a kiss hello, then pressed a kiss to the top of Booker’s head where he was bent over Andy, suckling softly at her. “Good to see you relaxed again, pet,” she told Booker. “I can take over,” she offered to Andy, sitting next to her and curling up against her side, shrugging her sweater off. “Whatever he needs.”