Summary:

It was practical really. Despite wonderful developments in technology, sometimes the old fashioned solution really was the best.

Monica Rappaccini put her underwear back on, retrieved the vials of blood samples, and placed the captain back into cryogenesis. Packaged away until the next time she needs him.

Warnings: Non-Consensual Somnophilia,

It had all become a bit routine at this point. Despite the duties and responsibilities in overseeing AIM, every few months Monica would carve out the time to come to Ambrosia personally. Take what she needed from the unconscious super-soldier, speaking to the ether in his general direction. Allow his body brief time out of stasis so his enhanced physiology had time to rest and recover before putting him back in cryostasis. It allowed her time to admire Dr. Erskine's work. To carefully observe the peak of human physiology. It had been nothing more than that really, merely an aesthetic admiration for a well formed human body.

But then, last week, she'd had a notion. A notion that she at first dismissed, but the more she mulled it over, the more she found herself amenable to the idea. An idea she was now going to attempt to put into practice.

Did she really need to do this? No. It was a simple biological urge that could be resolved in a number of ways. Did she want to? Oh, yes. He was there, he wasn't going anywhere, and if Monica was going to Ambrosia anyway, she might as well make it an event.

Like today. As per protocol, they'd started the sedatives the moment his body was removed from cryostasis. A super soldier's body could not be underestimated and besides, it was easy enough to isolate and neutralize when she used his blood for her regenerative formula. Placing those vials into a secure lockbox, she turned back to the asset.

He looked so peaceful and unbothered. How could she resist?

She dragged a finger over his bare abdomen. Eyes flickered beneath closed lids, but Monica didn't give them any thought. Her hand dipped lower, and she felt what she'd been after. Dragging her hand up and down, she could feel it responding to her touch.

"Move the asset onto the observation cot. Full restraints, we're not taking any chances." She'd had it specially ordered and assembled on site. At the very least, she could justify it as a place for her to rest if need be. The captain's wrists and ankles were secured with thick restraints, spread eagle with a growing tent in his pants. Monica bit her lip, smiling.

She pulled a chair up next to the cot and dismissed the synthoid, waiting until the door closed before starting. Her supplies were next to the cot, within easy reach. "Now, Captain, we'll be doing something a bit different," Calmly, she unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped the back of her pencil skirt, leaving both neatly folded on the chair. Toeing off her shoes she's left in her bra and panties, the rest of her skin bare to the lukewarm, recycled air of the Ambrosia satellite.

Beneath her is her prize. So she unwraps him like one, revealing what before she'd only ever looked at clinically. Trailing her eyes down pectorals and sharp hip bones down to the main event. She could take a mold, hand the design off to one of AIM's more salacious subsidiaries and probably make another easy million in sales. The pants were removed, folded up and placed out of the way.

Climbing onto the cot, she balances herself on the side railing and straddling one of his thighs. Best to start simple and work her way up. With that same aesthetic appreciation she had started with, Monica ran her hands down his arms, the breadth of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, feeling his cool skin steadily get warmer. His face did not change. His vitals remained steady.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw, savoring the feel of skin against skin. Even the best toys in the world couldn't match that feeling. "This is perfect for me, really," she explains, rubbing herself against his thigh. "I can scratch this particular itch on my own terms. A pretty face and a warm body without someone that would risk my public image or undermine my authority." The slickness between her legs would certainly stain her nice panties, but Monica was unbothered.

If there were any drawbacks to this plan it was only that she was the one who would have to do all the work. (Given past encounters, not a dealbreaker.) And that there were a limited range of positions given his condition. But Monica was a smart woman, and had ideas for how to keep things interesting. For example, dragging her slick, wet panties (and what was underneath the panties) against his cock. As you do.

Head swimming with heady pleasure, Monica gripped him, pressed the length up against her. Closing her eyes, and just letting herself feel him through soaked felt him start to harden almost immediately. Even with heavy sedation the vagus nerve complex was still perfectly functional. Good.

She could almost cum from this alone. Almost. Monica slowed and peered down between her thighs. Just the tip of his cock was visible, a smear of precum at the tip. A lazy smile as thought of the condoms she'd brought. A knowing smile as she decided to play it a little wild. After all, unless he'd somehow miraculously developed an STI in the days since she'd run his blood work, there wasn't any real risk. Removing the hair tie, she let her dark hair fall around her shoulders. The bra came off next, thrown in the vague direction of the rest of the clothing. The panties followed.

Reaching into her supplies, she brought out the lube and squirted a generous amount into her hands. The panties were damn near soaked through, but she wanted to tease him, imagining the begging if he was awake to enjoy this. She would have him beg, cock aching, desperate for relief before she'd spread her legs. She would have him half-mindless from lust and rutting against the bed before allowing him that sweet release. Although…she leaned forward and sucked a hickey on his pec, a thrill at seeing the small mark of ownership, however temporary…having him silent and still as she did as she pleased was pretty damn hot in its own way.

She mounted him again, bringing her hands together to stroke and massage his cock. Spreading the clear gel up and down, up and down, playing with his foreskin as the precum came in a steady stream now. Rogers' breath hitched, but she knew it was nothing.

"You do have a nice one of these," she sighed, bringing his tip against her folds. "Not too big, a decent shape. Not horrible to look at," the scientist threw her head back as she slid down, taking him inch by glorious inch. Down to the hilt, she stilled. Just enjoyed the full, stretched feeling as his cock twitched and pulsed inside her. There was no change to his expression, just continued blissful unconsciousness. She was in no great hurry to move either.

She brought a hand up to her clit, beginning with slow, lazy circles. She wished it would be his hand down there. Or better yet his mouth. Definitely his tongue.

"Wouldn't that be fun? To have you on your knees, buried between my thighs," she panted, starting to rock her hips. "You're a soldier. You'd be good at following instructions."

Up and down, closer and closer. Feeling the sweet drag of him within her. Bottoming out. Other ideas flitted through her mind as she followed a steady rhythm. Fucking him in the shower. In the bath. Against her office wall. Against her office desk.

There, there, there—

The world became a white hot supernova as Monica Rappacini fell over the edge. The liquid fire coursed through her veins as she panted, coming back down to earth.

"I knew—I knew you were worth it," she slumped forward, boneless. Rested her head against his chest as his cock slipped out of her and the world returned to focus. She looked down at the mess where their bodies met, and was surprised at what she saw.

He'd—he'd actually cum. She knew it was possible with enough stimulation but hadn't expected it to happen right away. Well done Captain Rogers.

She felt the mix of their release start to slide down her inner thigh as she stared at his serene, sleeping face. It made her feel dirty in the best kind of way.

"I think… I want to do this again," she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Keep going until I drain you dry."

After a little rearranging, (and a brief water break) Rogers was supported into a sitting position, restraints still secure, his cock red and straining. Perfect.

"Oh," dragging her hand up and down with a feather light touch, she smiled, "you like that, don't you?" It strained towards her touch, already leaking again. More strokes, up and down and up and down, enough to keep him hard, but definitely not enough to get him to climax. She licked and nipped at his nipples, leaving them swollen with love bites.

Monica was slopping wet when she claimed him again. It was raw and wet and heaven itself. "Look at you," she panted, rocking her hips with a heady urgency, "Captain America, leader of the Avengers, super soldier extraordinaire…and now you're just my toy." A kiss over his lips as she rode the wet, hot length of him. She rutted like a doe in heat but was too far gone to care.

She buries her face into the crook of his neck as she climaxes. Screaming as the pleasure burns and the world once more turns to stars. Nothing changes, so deep under that he doesn't even stir as his body cums hard and raw.

Hours and hours go by like this. She rips orgasm after orgasm from him as his release coats her thighs and fills her womb. Expensively manicured nails leave trails of red on his arms, back and thighs as she rides him again and again.

She'd thrown away the last of the wipes and pulled her underwear on when she called the synthoid back in. "Give the asset the nutrient drip and prepare him for cryostasis." Someone needed to clean him up and she wasn't going to be the one to put his pants back on.

"Yes, ma'am."

As it went to work, Monica glanced at the now empty bottle of lube. Well, spermicidal water based lubricant, as proclaimed by the label. Available at any local pharmacy. Even the best spermicides had a failure rate of 18%, but with the 99% effectiveness of her implant, she didn't feel it was any great liability. She placed the rest of her supplies in a nearby drawer and retrieved the blood samples.

The part of Monica that always had plans within plans pulled on the thread of that idea. While she had no real desire to procreate, in the unlikely (but not impossible) event Rogers woke up and escaped, such a progeny would be a useful bargaining chip. Not to mention that someone with her intelligence and his abilities would be an invaluable asset for AIM. Hell, with the cloning program up and running, she wouldn't even have to deal with the unpleasantness of natural childbirth. Or have to wait a decade and a half before the asset would be properly trained and ready for field work with the accelerated aging. She eyed the super-soldier. Another notion to ponder.

"Until next time, Captain Rogers."

Yeah. Not entirely sure what corner of my brain this particular nugget came out of. I just had the though "hey, wouldn't this be a messed up thing for Monica to have done while keeping Steve in a coma" and it kind of spiraled out from there.

Hope you enjoyed. If you have any thoughts, questions, want to see more or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know!