You are beginning to wonder when this reign of silence will end, if it ever will. There is more silence shared between the pair of you now than smiles, it seems, though this morning had seemed so bright.

There had been kissing last night, for sure. That had actually happened, and you both knew it as you went to your separate beds and fell asleep with eyes locked together, facing one another over the gap between you. Of course, after the kissing subsided, neither of you had known quite what to do with yourselves, so you had just gotten ready for bed as always and climbed under the covers as with every day, even though the night's events were anything but.

You had only known him for several days, a lot longer than you had known most people in your life, and you were grateful that you were blessed enough to share it with him. This perfect man of all men, and your heart slept within his arms that night.

Now, the car ride was quiet for the most part, and your body longed to be one with his in more ways than one, and as your throat opened to speak, your breath caught in your throat, forcing you to cough to loosen it.

"You okay?" he asked, breaking the silent tension between you.

"I'm sorry for my silence," you say with a nod, the tone of your voice indicating that you did not mean just now. By the way he shifted his knuckles on the steering wheel, you knew that he picked up on your subtext. "I just...I truly didn't know how to respond to your words the other night."

"Really, Ophelia," he interjects softly, "you don't have to do this."

Your heart lurches at the sound of his voice. Does he not want to speak to me? Does he not wish to know what I have to say? "You don't even know what I'm about to say."

He sighs gently. "I'd wager that neither do you." You can't believe your ears-is he truly that tired of all this? Does he not want to talk about it ever again or just for now? Does he even still feel the same? "So let's just finish this drive and sleep it off tonight."

Your chin quivers and you struggle not to let forth the tears begging to fall as they well into your eyes. You turn your gaze out the side window so that he cannot see your face, and you rest your hands into your lap.

"When you have the words, let me know," he tells you, reaching over as you feel the warmth of his hand envelop yours in its comforting grasp. "I know how you hate to waste them."

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The rest of the car trip, his last words reverberate inside of your skull, pounding just underneath the surface of your skin with a burgeoning you've never yet felt. The next hotel feels monumental for some unknown reason as you both enter the same room. You might have been pretending to be spouses, but you cannot remember the interaction with the person at the check-in counter. His words have possessed you in the worst way, festering until they come to a rolling boil as the pair of you are alone now in your now-shared room.

He can sense that something is off with you, though he does not acknowledge any of this, and you can't take anymore.

"You're not a waste of words, Steve," you correct him, dropping your suitcase by the provided dresser.

You can tell he is now facing you, clearly surprised to hear your words. "Ophelia?" he questions, almost as if to tell you that he wanted to make sure he had heard you correctly.

Your eyes finally meet his and his features soften at the sight of your pain. He starts towards you, and you take his hand into yours, squeezing it. "I've got the words so now you're going to listen to me," you say with enough force for him to nod in recognition of your dominance of this moment. You pause for a moment before speaking again, never letting go of his hand. "My whole life has been dictated for me-who to socialize with, what clothes to wear, what life to lead. I followed order to the letter, never backing down, never challenging the life I'd been instructed to have." You can feel your brow slant at the empathetic look on his beautiful face, and you hated that you were making him feel your pain for this moment. "That all changed the moment you were put under my supervision."

Steve stepped forward another step, looking down at you with loving and caring eyes before reaching up to caress your cheek with his knuckles. The light brush of his skin against yours forced you to swallow and lean into his touch, eyes still glued to his. "You have forced these questions into my head, making me second-guess everything I once thought I knew. Unlike your God-given eloquence, I don't have that talent." You put a hand to his where it lay on your face, pressing it into your cheek more firmly. Your eyes well with tears once again, and now Steve is releasing your hand to wrap his arm around you and draw you into him, comforting your vulnerability with his strength. "There's not a beautiful way to explain that I'm lonely." The tears drop from your eyes and down your blushing cheeks, the heat leaving gentle trails of stains in their wake. Steve releases your waist long enough to reach up and wipe away your tears as best as he can. "There aren't enough phrases in any language to describe that kind of emptiness." You press into him further, feeling your hips collide with his through your skirt and his trousers. You give him a gentle smile, feeling your words reach their climactic point to state your reasons. "So here I am, a lonely woman, baring her soul before you to ask you to forgive me...forgive me, Steve, for not immediately telling you in that one, stupendous moment, that I want you, too."

Steve blinks back what appear to be tears as he lets his forehead press to yours. He chuckles softly, clearly relieved to hear your admission, and you, too, release a light laugh, finally free of the burden you have been carrying since you first admitted your feelings for him to yourself.

His reception of your words are warm, and so is he as the pair of you embrace, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, heart to heart, in that one, perfect moment before his lips find yours with a different kind of fervor than the kisses you had shared last night. This one had a mutual understanding behind it, and truth to back up the facts that both of you wanted the other, and now you have them.

Your arms encircle his neck, drawing his height down to meet you in a deeper kiss. His mouth cascades across yours in a knowing fashion, both your lips and his finding love in the press of the other's. His hands grip your skirt tighter before instinctively sliding around to grip your rear end. That move shocks even him, who breaks apart your lips with a gasp and a shake of his head, his blue eyes wide with shock.

"I am so sorry," he apologizes, his breathing still ragged and left incomplete from the meshing of mouths. "I didn't realize I was-"

"That's okay," you tell him with a laugh. "I was just about to do the same to you."

You can see his cheeks redden at your comment before he chuckles and dives back in to cradle your face and kiss your lips a few times before tracing his tongue along your mouth's edge in the most passionate move he had done so far.

"Is...was that alright?" he asks, his voice gruffer than before.

"I believe that was a kiss, but I can't be sure...it's all a blur."

He laughs heartily, and your heart drops again. "Let me demonstrate it again then." He leans down to you once more, and that's when his tongue is suddenly wrapped around yours, the warmth of it encircling you and filling your mouth with more ecstasy than you had ever experienced before this god of a man came along.

One of his hands continues to cradle your face while the other dips down to grip your skirts tightly and pull you even closer to him, so meshed together it was as if your bodies would instantaneously fuse together for all of eternity. Maybe they will.

Your arms loosen their grip from his neck, sliding down to place your palms flat against his pecs where they sit hardened beneath the fabric of his shirt, and you are made aware of just how much lies between a touch of pure love.

Your fingers move to his buttons while his tongue's grip on yours lessens so that he can kiss you again and again. You begin to undo them while his breathing quickens, and he breaks the kisses so that he can try and catch his breath.

He pulls back ever so slightly so that he can look into your eyes as you continue down the path of buttons and are making your way towards his belt line. He, too, reaches to the buttons on the front of your dress, one of your favorites, as you both are in a state of undressing the other. No, not "undressing." You prefer "unveiling," like you are about to reveal the him underneath the clothing, unadulterated in the tenderest of forms.

You tug his shirt free from where it had been tucked into his pants, and push the material back from his shoudlers, all the while seeing the nerves grow redder behind his eyes. You smirk a bit that he is so vulnerable in front of you, and you give his lips a quick peck of comfort before stepping back a tick so you can get a proper look at him.

You are still within arms' length of him, but now here he is in unshirted glory. His skin is taut and smoother than any skin you've ever seen, and you've seen more than a few shirtless men in your lifetime-never like this. And none of them even held a candle to Steve Rogers.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you marvel at the chiseled beauty of the man before you, a flash of his once short-statured self bringing a well of new tears to your eyes.

"Steve..." you breath, and he sighs in response to hearing you say his name, "you are beautiful."

He grins a bit, appearing relieved to hear you say that. "Beautiful, huh?" he says, and you can hear him relax.

You smile and nod, moving toward him again to take his face into your hands and draw him into another kiss, sweetening it up as you feel him melt beneath your touch. "The most beautiful," you whisper into his mouth, and he sighs, moving his strong digits to continue undoing your dress.