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Your fingers fumble slowly over a small set of irritatingly similar, silver keys. A headache looms just behind your eyes, an annoyance you’ve become accustomed to as your work hours have lengthened drastically. There’s no telling how many hours of sleep you're actually getting anymore. After trying the same key a few times, you finally find the right one with a sigh. As the door swings open the hall lights flood the entryway with light, but not enough. Cursing yourself for not leaving on a lamp you haul your grocery bags towards the kitchen in an awkward shuffle.
With a weak heave you attempt to swing the heaviest bag up off the floor. With a dramatic rip the handles break off, spilling the contents in every direction. ‘Damn paper bags’ you think. Well, that’s what you get for trying to be eco friendly. You stand for a few moments, debating storming off dramatically to your bedroom before rolling your eyes and bending down to halfheartedly pick up a few things. You gasp, closing your eyes tightly in an attempt to fight back the lights starting to cloud your vision.
“Need some help?”
A voice appearing from the darkness should scare the living daylights out of you but you’ve pretty much gotten used to him showing up sporadically any time of night or day. You almost don’t recognize him in a button down shirt and khakis. Of course he doesn’t wear the suit everywhere…does he?
“No…I’ve got….yeah…” He chuckles lightly, bending down and easily scooping up an armful of rosy red apples.
“Tough day?” He looks like a model right out of a photo shoot, leaning nonchalantly against your kitchen counter.
“Tough week. Tough month actually.”
A small crease appears between his eyebrows.
“Has it been that long?” It has. Not that you’re counting or anything. You shrug. “Come on”. He grabs your hands trying to lead you away.
“I can’t.” Pulling away you start towards the counter.
“Later.” The finality of his tone catches you off guard. His expression tells you there’s no use arguing. The hardness disappears from his eyes, replaced with a small smile. Grasping your hand again he leads you away from the spilled goods, down the hallway to your bedroom. Pointing at your bed he orders you to sit. Your mind is numb with lack of sleep; zombie would be a fitting term. “You might as well get comfortable,” he shouts from the bathroom. ‘Better do what he says’ you think, chuckling at this lovesick state you’ve found yourself in. Somehow though this routine seems to work. You unhinge your bra with a sign of relief, peeling off your work clothes and replacing them with soft cotton sleep clothes. You sit back down on the edge of the bed and start to massage your temples with tired hands.
“Let me help.” You jump at his sudden reappearance. “Easy,” he laughs, placing large, strong hands on your shoulders. He slides behind you so easily. He does practically live here…practically. A thumb digs sharply into your knotted shoulder. You hiss loudly but attempt to hold still while he works. His breath is hot on the back of your neck. “You work too hard.”
You snort. “This coming from Captain America?”
“Hey, even super heroes have to take a break now and again.”
“I guess so….where do you go to take a break exactly?” You hadn’t meant for that to sound so harsh. His fingers pause.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really…” He pulls your shoulder, turning you to face him. “I come here.” His finger traces your jaw lightly as he eyes your lips.
“Sometimes.” You look away, pouting slightly. He laughs, tracing your jutted bottom lip before smoothing the crease between your eyebrows.
“I can’t be here as much as I’d like, but I am here as much as time allows.” He leans in, brushing his lips lightly against yours, robbing you of any further plans to pout. “On your stomach.” You can’t stop yourself from shivering as you crawl slowly to the head of the bed. He crouches on his knees above the small of your back. His hands resume their work on your shoulders, pressing then soothing. You’d rather he didn’t know just how much effect he has on you but you can’t help but sigh and moan. The warm hands work their way down your spine to the divots of your lower back.
Soon his hands aren’t the only things you feel. Pressing your hips upwards you feel a warm hardness looming just above your bottom. It’s been too long and you’re not letting him get away without having your way with him…or at least trying. You’ve never been particularly charming per say but you do consider yourself somewhat of a temptress; you move your hand slowly from your side up to between his legs. Your wrist is caught in an instant and pinned to your back. He says nothing but you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull; warmth begins to pool in your belly. You lift your hips up off the bed quickly, grinding as hard against him as the position allows. He growls, pinning both arms above you head.
His mouth is on your ear now, hot breath clouding your thinking.
“You think you’re in control?” He whispers, snaking his tongue around the shell of your ear. You don’t even manage a response before he grinds himself hard against your ass, firmly pressing you into the mattress.
“Please.” You gasp. His hips grind against you over and over.
“What?” His voice is no longer playful. He commands you to respond but your brain refuses to function. “Please, what?” He orders again.
“Nhnn, fuck me. Please!” He hasn’t even started yet and already you’re begging.
“We’ll see.” In this moment you hate him but you swear you’ll do anything he asks. Anything. He’s off you in a moment, flipping you on your back, pinning your legs wide open. “Hands at your sides.” You slowly pull your shaking arms down to your sides, making a mental note not to move them an inch or feel his wrath. His eyes roam your face for a moment before settling on your mouth.
“Open.” Your mouth opens without hesitation. He slides two fingers in pressing into your tongue lightly. Automatically you start to suck before realizing you did so without permission. He sees the sudden fear in your eyes and laughs before planting a kiss on your forehead. “Good girl.”
He pulls the fingers from your mouth and slips them below the waistband of your pants. You moan wantonly as his fingers slip through your folds, brushing your aching center with precision. He slips his fingers back and forth a few more time before returning them to your mouth; you suck with fervor. His eyes burn for a brief moment before he gains control, ripping your pants off. He peels his shirt off in a swift motion, looming above you as you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look. Everything in this moment is perfect. You do your best to mentally capture him, right here and now.
He wastes no time, pulling off his pants with ease. You’d planned to make a smart-ass remark but you can’t seem to remember what the hell you were going to say. His cock presses flesh against his belly, still awe inspiring in the dim moonlight streaming through the window.
He climbs atop you again, leaning down to take a nipple into this mouth, biting sharply. You arch upwards into his mouth as his tongue trails across your chest to the other nipple. You long to touch him, to run your fingers through his hair, to memorize every straining muscle but you haven’t been given permission. You whine incessantly, squirming against your invisible bonds as he works his fingers between your legs. One digit, then two push in and out in a torturous rhythm.
He’s settles comfortably between your legs, tonguing your center without missing a beat with his fingers. He’s fucking you with his hands and tongue and yet you want more.
“Please. Steve.” You breathe his name to no response. It doesn’t take long before you’re at the edge; his head lifts to watch you writhe. You can’t even believe the sounds you’re making. “Please.” You nearly scream.
“Please what?”
“Please, let me- let me come Steve.” He hooks his fingers upwards, sending bursts of electricity to your brain. His pace increases but not enough to get you off.
“Are you gonna come for me?”
“Yes, yes God please.”
“Then come for me.” His command sends you over the edge, your eyes rolling back into your head as your muscle spasm around his fingers. A guttural cry fills the room as every muscle screams with pleasure. He’s barely pushing now, letting you thoroughly fuck yourself on his fingers until you can’t move anymore.
Before you even catch your breath his cock replaces his fingers, which are now pushing their way into your throat. Consciousness looms just out of reach. A hand grips your throat, bringing you back to finish what you started. He isn’t playing any games now, slamming into you with as much force as he can muster until you feel as though you’re going to explode into a hundred pieces. You angle your hips upwards so each thrust brushes your sweet spot. A few more thrusts and you’re already coming again.
“That’s right, baby.” The hand on your throat tightens slightly, bringing your orgasm to the next level. You can hear his breath increasing and you know he must be close.
“Oh yeah fuck me,” you moan as loud as you can. His eyes meet yours in surprise. He’s like a wild animal, your animal. You have more control than you think. “Yeah baby, nhnnn,” you moan, slamming back into his hips with each thrust.
“You gonna come in me?” His face is pure shock and lust, mouth slightly agape, hair sticking to his face. A hand winds it way into your hair, yanking your head back sharply. He licks your throat messily, grunting, gasping, even mewling. He can’t gain control and you know it. You pull against his hand to meet his gaze. With a lick of your lips you command him “fucking come for me, Steve.”
He pounds relentlessly inside you, gasping while coming, bringing you to orgasm again. You want to watch his face but you can’t help as your own eyes roll back into your skull.
His shaking arms give out and he collapses on top of you trying to catch his breathe. There is nothing more natural than this in the entire world. You don’t know where he begins and you end. The heavy breathing subsides as you two lay, stuck together in mutual awe. You can’t help but chuckle, he joins in and soon you find yourself gasping for air as he pokes you relentlessly in the ribs. You push him as hard as you can to no avail. He rolls off you in mock defeat, his fingers tangling gently in your hair.
The heaviness of sleep starts to overtake you.
“Love you baby,” he says.
“Love you more,” you murmur, convinced this is all just a dream.
“Love you most,” a voice whispers from the warm, darkness beside you.