Chapter Text
Tick, tap, tick, tap.
Every tick of the clock made you restless as you stare at every individual notch as the seconds pass by as slow as the Earth turning. Your feet had made a home to the floor to the beating of it's mechanical heart, calming your physical heart the best it can. Busying yourself with situating boxes in some sort of order than began clear, but muddled in your brain. You almost had sex with a co-worker, and not just a co-worker, Steve Rogers. His heartbeat you heard earlier joins in with the melody of ticks, taps, and beats, but this symphony makes you antsy. Reminds you of the chill you got with his hand on your thigh, how shaky and thin you could feel through the material separating them and bare skin. Worrying your lower lip, glancing up from under your lashes at the clockwork, as if trying to flirt with time itself.
For once, something works out in your favor, the hands had shifted positions, taking flattery from your palm. It feels as if your internal organs are forcing themselves outward, pressing into the lining of your abdomen, begging for escape. Just ten more minutes, just ten more agonizing, anxiety-ridden, minutes. Hopefully by then they don't become external organs.
---
Somehow, another something works for you, the seconds pass by faster than seconds, and moments pass by with every blink. Before you really have time to relish that it's just one more minute, the chiming starts. You picture the clock growing a face and arms, winking at you and pointing toward Steve's direction, 'time to go finish what you started'. Sometimes you make yourself uncomfortable in your own skin, so you stand, trying to shake out of it.
Footsteps are narrowing down the hall as if no one could get home fast enough, and it reminds you of a march. A very disoriented and amateur one at that, with different clicks and clacks, almost clocks themselves, throwing out the sound of freedom. Peeking out of the doorway, you see typical dames passing, a few more eccentric than the rest, a smaller boy or two. But of course, no Steve. The second time you go to his usual spot, you hope it turns out better than the first time, and with no distractions it seemed possible.
The walls are inching toward your vision with every forced foot on the floor, muttering idol nothings about how you're making a mistake, maybe Steve stopped himself there for a reason more than the end of lunch. Hearing that 'voice', you stop forcing your feet, they feel like they're melting into the cement. Dread is taking a hammer to the back of your head, sending a throbbing ache throughout your entire body, gripping your heart as if bracing for impact. The impact being that he doesn't want you, but the only nice voice in your head flicks you, reminding you that he had drawn more than enough proof of wanting you.
You really have to stop biting your lip, they're getting chapped, but something in you is pressing your feet onward. Making a march of faith to the back room.
---
Steve is a better piece of art than he could ever make, bending to lift a box that seems to be shoving him back.
"It's not good to bend like that and lift" you say, coming over, meeting his eyes and bending the 'right' way to pick it up, placing it on the shelf. After the weight leaves your hands, a small hand trails to the back of your thigh, grasping it like it's the resolve to everything. You can't miss the way his eyes are fleeting from yours when you turn to stare at him, as if yours are threatening his life. His Adam's apple shifts under his skin, trying to get comfortable in a swallow, but by the way he winces it's not too soothing. Moving closer, the air fills with everything that is Steve as he presses against you experimentally, more so testing himself.
Turning to have some sort of relief to the throbbing between your legs, he's pressing his body against yours as if it belongs there. You don't hesitate to lean in, biting his lip gently and starting to pull back, but he's not having any teasing, his lips following yours and catching them. Exhaling into his mouth, you start to give short kisses back until you get him back just enough to continue what you started, shirt on the ground with a practically buzzing lust in the air. He inhales against your now open mouth as if he needs the air from your lungs instead of his own, and you don't mind, his lungs are pretty shitty.
Trusting your hands just enough to let them go where they want, they automatically take their rightful places on the unexplored, bare skin of his slim chest. He keens forward, and lets out a noise that should be one of the seven deadliest sins, almost a whine. That throbbing between your legs becomes an unbearable new heartbeat that shakes your entire frame. Nipping his lip and feeling them start to move against yours, your hands taking control of all the uninhabited map of his skin, making a note on the side every time your find a crevice. Despite being thin, it takes you quite a while to finish the mental landscape of new skin, and by the way he's straining not to move his hips, he doesn't seem to mind.
You hadn't even noticed he was touching you before, until you feel them start to timidly press at your lower stomach, right underneath your shirt. Pulling away from the heat of his lips, you keep your eyes directly on his as you slide up your shirt, seeing his eyes widen as it joins his on the floor. You're not sure if you're flattered or panicked about the way he's staring, his mouth slightly open, panting, but finally he lets his eyes skim up your body until he meets your eyes again. There is an unmistakeable hunger in the way he's taking in your eyes as if trying to memorize every speck, before he licks his lips as if you're literally on the menu.
You don't remember being pressed onto the ground, it happens so fast that you're coming to terms with it when your back arches away from the cold ground before relaxing down again. You also don't remember losing your breath, but you get it back right in the moment you're losing it again to Steve's demanding lips. His lungs are doing better than yours somehow in this situation, he's controlling the airway, demanding that for once it listens, while yours is in your hormones control. Every part of your body feels that way, but the way he's starting to touch, you feel under his demand instead, and if that doesn't turn you on to no end.
Finally, as your feeling like you're probably turning a funny color, he pulls back just enough to place his sweaty forehead on yours. A few strands of his hair are doing their best to get you two closer, despite the contrast of your hair color to his, they're connecting together like they were meant to be from the same person. His eyes are closed, his slim frame is barely holding above yours, his arms are shaking as if they're begging to lower to let your bodies form together again. The panting against your skin remind you that this is real life, and there is a small body that should be taken over, taking over yours instead. Biting his lip and opening his eyes, his breathing hitches for a moment before relenting to him again, finally calm, or as close as it can get to 'normal'. Noticing your concern, he rests his hand against your cheek, rubbing little circles with his thumb.
After a moment, you press upward to find his lips again, and his wobbling arms get a different wish. Instead of giving up, they reach down to your ribs, lifting you slightly off the ground, just enough to mess with the strap of your bra. Too desperate for his kisses, you won't let him pull away to look at it, so he's muttering a curse or two about how difficult they are to get off, before the thing finally gives up and sags off of your body. He caresses your skin gently, sliding down the straps and managing to pull back for a kiss. You pout at him, but his lips just twitch into a half smile, before falling again as he glances down at his hands, his eyes meeting yours. This is a permission thing, isn't it? It's almost laughable that right now he's basically pleading with you to see your body, and you're almost mean enough to tease him. An ache between your thighs reminds you that it's not giving time for teasing tonight, so you just give a quick nod.
You feel cold air rush onto the newly bared skin as if it's a race, but you barely notice it with the way Steve's staring. Lowering his face slightly, looking up at you all the while from under his lashes, he skims his lips against your rib. He quickly shoves his face back up when you inhale loudly, looking startled and guilty, leaning back as if he's trying to hide in a shell. It is so freaking endearing and you wonder how he can draw your body in such a seductive way, but when it comes to the real thing he seems hesitant about it, but you trail your hand through his hair.
"No, you're good, it just felt good is all" you assure, smiling at him warmly. Steve's returning smile is sickly sweet and hopeful, and he's leaning again. But you're definitely not expecting the sudden wetness of his mouth on your breast. There goes that sharp inhale, but this time he doesn't pull back, in fact he seems to take it as encouragement and lowers more into you. You're not ashamed of the moan that manages to slip out of your mouth, the way his tongue is testing at your hardening nipple it's a surprise you're not yanking his hair, but you do tighten your grip on it. He notices and pulls back slightly from his suckling on the tender flesh, god damn his innocent little stare he gets right after he does something like that.
Every nerve in your being is telling you to just cut the shit and shove him on the ground, take what he's willing to give to you. But, that's not what this is about, and you know it, the game he's playing. He's seeing just what he can get away with, and it makes you smirk. He's treading on some thin ice, and you're not going to let him get away with it.
Taking the waistband of his pants in your hands, taking note of the way he's swallowing again, you manage to undo the button. His breath is still making goosebumps rise on your chest, but you try to ignore the sensations its giving straight to your entrance. You take your time in unzipping them, enjoying the way he's starting to lose his air again and the look on his face, sliding them down the best you can in your position. His boxers are plain, but they're actually matted to his thighs, and you swallow this time and the clear bulge in between them. Noticing the staring, you feel him shift uncomfortably over top of you.
"Don't tell me you're getting hesitant now, I need you Steve." You hadn't realized just how turned on you were until you heard the lust thickening into your words. His breath hitches again, and you see a little stir in his boxers. Well something is taking an interest in dirty talk, and you're not about to deny him of anything.
"How many times did you imagine this happening?"
"What do you mean?" There's a strength in his voice you couldn't have predicted. To prove a point, you let your trembling fingers press into the indent of his hips, rubbing at the top of his thigh. Biting his lip and shutting his eyes tight, he rocks his hips downward for friction but doesn't find much, but damn if it doesn't make you want him even more.
"More times than I'd like to admit."
You could definitely get used to this ego trip, but he's gripping your hip as if he's trying to control everything at once, himself and you. Using his body to sit up slightly, you shift to where he's sitting up, his back pressed against a sturdy shelf. Before you even start anything, you get up despite a protesting noise from him, which halts when you slide your pants off and go to get something. Obviously interested, he sits up and watches as you as you grab something from one of the open boxes and come back. You sit down directly on his lap, and both of you moan helplessly at the slight friction, despite the clothing.
"Do you have your inhaler?"
"Y-yes it's in my pocket."
You reach back to the puddle of his jeans, digging through the pocket until you can grab it, handing it to him.
"Just in case" you insist, gaining a caring smile from Steve. He leans in and gives you a passionate, lingering kiss.
"I love you" he says, pulling back just enough. You're both covered in a layer of sweat and grime, but neither of you mind, in excitement of what's coming it shouldn't matter.
"I love you too" you coo as you slide down his boxers, letting his cock spring from it's confines. It's nothing huge, but not exactly as small as the rest of him, and he's not taking his eyes off you at all as you slide the panties that had been lingering at your hips. Suddenly you feel more naked than you had ever before in your life, not just physically, but emotionally to him as he gives you his eyes as if nothing in the world could ever matter more. He reaches his hands out and grabs your arms gently, slipping you closer to be back on his lap, careful to watch your reaction.
He's gripping his inhaler like it's his life saver, and in the moment it seems like the right description. Holding up the condom that you had gotten from the box just a moment ago, watching his eyes as you open it, and take the liberty of slipping it on for him. At the touch, he twitches and grinds against your hand, and it's so desperate and needy you almost don't want to pull your hand away. But you do so, reluctantly, mentally preparing for what's to come. The only noise that dares stir in the room, is the slick noise of him sliding into you. Of course, for a moment it's painful, and you're doing everything you can to get used to it. He holds your face for a moment, pressing sweet kisses over your reddened cheeks, panting softly. After a few moments of his comfort, you rock your hips, and it sends him deeper into you, he's suddenly clenching at your thighs and it verges on painful. You don't mind though, and the only thing you can feel, breathe, hear, see, is Steve. His head is tipped back, his chest heaving already, his mouth open, his eyes clenched just as tight as his hands.
Adjusting takes a second for both of you, and Steve does good, controlling his air without the use of his inhaler. You wouldn't mind if he needed it obviously, but you're somewhat proud of him, before you lift your hips. There goes his timed breathing as if he's on a machine, but it's working for him, so you don't mind how much you're panting. You feel yourself clench after lifting yourself and lowering a few times in a strange rhythm, but after a few good 'practice' thrusts, you set a better pace.
Even after a few full through thrusts, you feel a sensation building in your lower stomach, it's almost a goal. You feel yourself speeding up the best you can without harming either of you, trying so desperately to reach that feeling in your body, because you know it's going to be almost impossible to stop until you get there. It feels promising, and damn, so good, and by the heavy breathing and the way he's meeting your thrusts he's in agreement with you. He follows your rhythm, and soon enough the gripping gets unbearably tighter, and there's an intense heat radiating coming off his cock.
Opening your eyes just enough to see his almost apologetic glance, before you're closing them again when he still thrusts up with the rest of his strength. Soon enough, you meet that place in your stomach, and you can't even seen anything anymore, you hardly feel when Steve pulls out and shifts under you to throw the tied condom to the bin. Settled in his lap, you just lazily kiss him and fall into his chest.
It feels like you just went through the most intense work out program known to man, but holy shit, was it worth it to get to feel his slender arms wrap around you.
---
He helps you collect your clothes from the pile after getting his on, and you're so tired you could be wearing his shirt and no bra and give no single fucks about it. He sits back down and you just plop back on top of him, he's warm and comfortable, like your own personal bed. He pulls you tight into his chest and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmering something you don't quite catch.
So, he's good after care and a cuddler.
This definitely won't be the last time.