You're standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of ramen noodles on the stove, when a shimmering portal materializes right next to your refrigerator. The way your girlfriend, America Chavez, has of entering a room never ceases to amaze you. She steps through the portal, with Kamar-taj shimmering behind her, then is there before you in the kitchen.
"Hey," she says softly, giving you a tired but genuine smile. "I'm home."
You set down the wooden spoon you were using and rush over to her side, easily picking her up in a tight hug. America wraps her arms around your waist, squeezing you just as tightly as she nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck. God, it's been too long since you last felt her this close.
"America," you breathe into her hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo and something else uniquely her. "I missed you."
She mumbles something unintelligible but no less heartfelt into your shoulder before pulling back slightly to look at you. "Missed you too," she says with a yawn, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her hoodie.
Concerned, you guide her towards one of the chairs around your small kitchen table. "Sit down, I'll get you some water and finish cooking."
America flops onto the chair, not even bothering to hide how exhausted she really is. As you grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with cold water from the fridge, you can't help but steal glances at her. She's changed since she left for Kamar-taj; there's an air of weariness about her that wasn't there before.
"Here," you say gently, setting the glass down in front of her. "Tell me everything."
America waves you off, shaking her head. "No, not tonight. I just... I want to forget about all the superhero stuff for a while. Can we just pretend I have a normal life with you?"
You nod, understanding in your eyes. "Of course. Whatever you need. What can I do?"
She looks at you, biting her lower lip in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat. "First, a nap. Then..." she trails off, a meaningful glint in her eye.
You help her to the bedroom, where she collapses onto the soft sheets. You curl up beside her, holding her close as she drifts off to sleep.
Hours later, you wake to find America still nestled in your arms, bathed in the warm glow of afternoon sunlight streaming through the curtains. She stirs, sitting up slowly and gazing at you with such love it takes your breath away.
You start to speak, but she gently places a finger on your lips, shushing you. Then she leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss that quickly grows heated. Your hands roam over her back as she tugs at the hem of her shirt, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull it over her head.
She pushes you gently back onto the mattress, her nimble fingers unbuttoning your pants with a practiced ease gained from countless training montages. Your cock springs free, already hard and throbbing for her. America grins mischievously before taking it into her soft, warm mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head, teasing every sensitive nerve ending as she bobs up and down your length.
"Fuck," you groan, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other in her hair as she moans around you. The vibrations send shockwaves straight to your core.
Unable to take much more, you gently pull her off with a moan of protest. "I want to feel all of you," you manage to say between ragged breaths.
America grins up at you, the playful glint back in her eyes as she straddles your hips. Slowly, she slides herself down onto your erection, her wet heat engulfing you inch by inch. She throws her head back and moans as she bottoms out, her walls milking you like a vice grip.
You wrap your arms around her waist, holding her close as she begins to ride you in long, languid strokes that send sparks of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies. Sweat glistens on her brow as she leans forward, resting her forehead against yours.
Her hips roll against yours, her breasts bouncing with each stroke as she sets the pace. She throws her head back, eyes closed in ecstasy, a few stray strands of hair clinging to her damp forehead. "God, I've missed this," she pants out between moans.
You reach up to cup her breasts, squeezing gently as she moans even louder. Her nails dig into your biceps as she grinds herself even harder against you. "Yes," she whimpers, encouraging you to go harder. You oblige, picking up the tempo until the entire bedframe is creaking underneath your combined weight.
Her walls convulse around your length, milking you with each pump. "Oh fuck, I'm close," you manage to grunt out through gritted teeth. America's only response is to bury her face into your neck and groan out her own orgasm as she rides out her climax atop you. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over both of you before collapsing into a sweaty heap on the bed.
After catching your breaths, America playfully swats your stomach and giggles. "Now THAT is worth coming home for." She leans in for another passionate kiss before reluctantly climbing out of bed and grabbing her discarded jeans jacket from the floor. "Let's get some food."
After lunch, you both settle onto the couch in the living room, America curling up against your side as you talk and laugh, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. The afternoon sun streams through the windows, bathing her in a warm glow that makes her brown eyes sparkle.
As you're in the middle of telling her about your week, you notice her gaze change. There's a familiar heat there that makes your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, she uncrosses her legs, letting her knees fall open. Your eyes are drawn downward, drinking in the sight of her smooth, tanned thighs leading up to her pussy. The only thing she’s wearing is still her jeans jacket, giving you an unobstructed view of her glistening folds.
You open your mouth when America cuts you off with a smirk. "You better not make a portal pun," she warns playfully.
You laugh, "Am I that predictable?"
"Only when it comes to bad jokes," she teases, reaching for you.
You come together in a tangle of limbs and eager hands, clothes quickly discarded as you lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. America's sighs and moans of pleasure fill the air as you worship every inch of her body with your hands and mouth. When you finally join together, it's with a shared gasp of blissful completion.
Afterward, you lay tangled together on the couch, basking in the afterglow. As America shifts, you notice a trickle of your cum dribbling out of her pussy. The sight sends a possessive thrill through you. She catches you looking and grins, pulling you in for another deep kiss.
Suddenly America sits up, her eyes bright with excitement. "Hey, do you still have that old camera of yours?" she asks, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her mouth.
You nod, curious where this is going. "Yeah, it's in the closet. Why?"
She hops up, grabbing her jeans from the floor and shimmying into them. The denim hugs her curves in all the right places as she fastens the button. "I have an idea," she says with a wink, tossing you your shirt.
Intrigued, you quickly pull on your clothes and retrieve the camera from the closet. It's an older model digital SLR, but it still takes great shots. America grabs your hand, practically dragging you out of the apartment and up the stairs to the roof access door.
The late afternoon sun bathes the rooftop in a warm, golden glow as you step out onto the gravel. A gentle breeze ruffles America's hair, carrying with it the faint sounds of the city below. She turns to you, biting her lower lip in that way that never fails to make your heart race.
"Sexy photoshoot?" she suggests with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes, her tone playful yet tinged with genuine desire.
You feel yourself getting hard again already, your body responding to the sultry look in her eyes. "Are you sure?" you ask, glancing around nervously. "We're kind of exposed up here."
America laughs, the sound light and carefree. "That's half the fun," she teases, already working on the buttons of her jeans. "Besides, I can always portal us out of here if someone shows up."
You hesitate, then remember this might be the last time you see her for God knows how long. “Let’s do it,” you say, lifting the camera to your eye.
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You start snapping photos as America poses against the backdrop of the city skyline. She's a natural, effortlessly striking sultry poses that take your breath away. As she's in the middle of a particularly provocative stance, a pigeon suddenly lands on her outstretched arm. America yelps in surprise, stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over an air conditioning unit. You can't help but burst out laughing at the sight of the mighty superhero being startled by a common bird.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" America says with mock indignation, but she's fighting back laughter too. She starts to chase you around the rooftop, both of you giggling like children.
Your impromptu game of tag is interrupted by the sudden appearance of the building's maintenance man, emerging from the stairwell with a toolbox in hand. He takes one look at the scene before him - you with your camera, America with her shirt half unbuttoned - and his eyes go wide.
"I, uh... I'll come back later," he stammers, retreating back down the stairs so quickly he nearly trips.
You and America look at each other for a beat before dissolving into fits of laughter again. "Maybe we should take this inside," you suggest, still chuckling.
Back in your apartment, America wastes no time stripping off the rest of her clothes. She stretches out on the bed, completely naked, her bronzed skin glowing in the warm light filtering through the curtains. "Shoot me here," she says, her voice low and husky with desire.
You climb up onto the bed, straddling her as you frame shot after shot. America is breathtaking, her body a work of art as she poses beneath you.
Just as you're lining up what might be the best photo yet, America's expression suddenly changes.
"Um, hold that thought," she says, squirming underneath you. "I really need to pee."
You can't help but laugh as she dashes to the bathroom, leaving you kneeling on the bed with the camera. It's moments like these, the imperfect, unplanned ones, that remind you how much you love her. Not just America Chavez the superhero, but America the person - funny, spontaneous, and wonderfully human.
But just as you're thinking this, a shimmering portal opens in the middle of your bedroom. The familiar orange sparks coalesce into a circular gateway, and through it steps Wong, Sorcerer Supreme and America's mentor. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the scene before him - you shirtless on the bed, camera in hand, clothes and sheets rumpled.
"Uh, hi Wong," you greet him sheepishly, feeling your face flush. You set the camera aside and grab your discarded t-shirt, pulling it on hastily.
Wong raises an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "I see I'm interrupting," he says dryly.
You clear your throat awkwardly. "America's just in the bathroom. She'll be out in a sec." You raise your voice slightly, calling out, "Hey babe? Wong's here."
There's a muffled curse from the other side of the bathroom door, followed by the sound of running water. A moment later, America emerges, hastily dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair is slightly mussed, and there's a faint flush to her cheeks that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
But what strikes you most is the bone-deep weariness etched into every line of her body. Her shoulders are slumped, dark circles prominent under her eyes. She looks more exhausted than you've ever seen her, even after her most grueling missions.
"Wong," she says, her voice flat. "What is it this time? Another interdimensional threat? Rogue sorcerer? Please tell me Mordo isn't causing trouble again."
Wong's expression softens slightly as he takes in America's condition. "Nothing so dire," he assures her. "But there is a situation that requires your unique abilities. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
America's shoulders slump even further, if that's possible. She looks so small, so vulnerable in that moment that your heart aches. Without thinking, you cross the room in two quick strides and scoop her up in your arms. She doesn't protest, just buries her face in your neck with a soft sigh.
"Can't it wait?" you ask Wong, unable to keep the pleading note from your voice. "She just got back. She needs rest."
Wong's expression is sympathetic but firm. "I'm afraid not. Time is of the essence."
America lifts her head from your shoulder, meeting your eyes. There's resignation there, but also determination. "It's okay," she says softly. "I knew this couldn't last forever."
You set her down gently, but keep an arm around her waist, supporting her. "Promise me you'll come back as soon as you can," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "And that you'll rest. Really rest."
America manages a small smile, reaching up to cup your cheek. "I promise.”
And with that, she turns and they step through the portal with a shimmer of sparks.
Alone in the room, you stare at the spot she had just been, still breathing in her scent in the air.
Briefly you wonder how long it will be this time.
You look up, cross yourself, and quietly say a heartfelt prayer for her protection.
Then, feeling a hankering for ramen again, you head to the kitchen to start boiling some water.
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