Leaning against the door frame, Steve stared into his room. Her body was splayed across the bed diagonally, small snores emanating from under the covers. He smiled to himself. She was still here, and she was real.
The last two weeks he had dreamed so many times of waking up next to her. He would do anything to keep her. Considering what he had been capable of in the past, that was a frightening thought. Infiltrating Nazi and Hydra bases seemed like child's play compared to facing his emotions. This was uncharted territory.
He forced himself to stop staring. She wouldn't disappear if he blinked. But she might have second thoughts if he was caught. Considering her state when she showed up last night, coffee would definitely be needed when she finally woke up. For now, he'd let her sleep.
Why? Why hadn't you learned your lesson with drinking by now? Sunlight poured into the bedroom; your eyes resistant to your early attempts to open, relented as you remembered where you were. Sitting up, you ignored the tiny throb in your temples. The bed next to you was empty, but the sheets and blankets were crumpled. He had really slept with you in his arms last night.
Spying your phone on the nightstand, you grabbed it, automatically scanning the notifications on your lock screen. Zach had messaged you last night wondering where you had gone. The texts seemed to have gone from worried to irate in quick succession. Bullet dodged.
Bare feet padding along cold floors, you walked through the house peeking around corners expecting to see Steve in his office or maybe the living room, but the smell of coffee finally gave away his position.
The aroma of fresh ground surrounded you. The kitchen was bright but the lights paled in comparison to the smile he gave you. He poured you coffee in the red mug, your favorite, and set out the creamer and sugars for you.
You mumbled your thanks, putting your phone on the island, and fumbled to fix up your morning brew. How were you supposed to act now? The lines between you were so blurred.
"How do you feel this morning?" he asked, sipping from his cup.
The tinge of headache you had minutes earlier seemed to dissipate in his presence. "Better now."
Steve set his coffee down. "Are we going to talk about you getting into a car with a total stranger while you were inebriated?"
The coffee stuck in your throat, and you struggled not to choke as you swallowed it down. You should have expected a scolding. Had you been capable of thinking ahead last night, you would have realized that he would be upset. You lifted your eyes to his and gave him your undivided attention.
"Do you know how dangerous that could have been?" His arms crossed in front of his chest, his tight white shirt stretching dangerously against his muscles.
"Not as dangerous as me driving myself," you muttered, taking a drink. His brows knitted together in a frown that you were sure was supposed to be intimating, but it just made you want to kiss the crinkle that appeared there.
"True. But in the future, I want you to call me if you need a ride. I don't want anything happening to you." He walked towards you, grabbed your hips, and easily lifted you to sit on the island countertop.
"The future?" You stared into his blue eyes, scared to blink.
Steve stepped closer, effectively spreading your legs. His hands rested on either side of your hips. "Do you remember what you said last night?"
You didn't know whether you wanted to lean back to create some distance between you or wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Instead, all you did was whisper, "Yes."
"Did you mean it?" His thumbs grazed your thighs playing with the hem of your shorts.
"Yes." You had meant it. You wanted him. But did he want you? It seemed like he did, but would he push you away again?
"Then we have some things to talk about. Don't we? We can't go on the way we were—
"Why not?" you interrupted. He was going to do it again, wasn't he?
His knuckles caressed your cheek tenderly, calming the panic that was rising within you. "It's not enough. I don't want stolen minutes with you. I don't want to always have to hide and sneak around. I want you here with me, living with me, traveling with me, going out on dates with me. I want everything."
"You want me to move in?" The thought of never having to live with your parents again almost made it difficult to concentrate on anything else. He wanted you. Really wanted you.
"Of course, I do. I can't stand the thought of you sleeping somewhere else anymore. I was going to take a leave of absence to promote my book when it was finished, but I could do that early to finish it that way you could still attend school."
"No, I should be the one to leave. I don't even know what I want to do or study. Besides, if I moved in you with my dad would stop paying for school. I can't exactly afford tuition."
"I could pay your tuition. But if you wanted to take a gap year or two, travel the world with me…it might give you the time and maybe some experience to help you decide what it is you are interested in."
"That sounds awfully benevolent and yet self-serving at the same time."
"You'll find that where you're involved, I'm equally generous and greedy. I would give you everything if it meant keeping you all to myself." Steve's hands stroked your thighs.
Taking a depth breath, you asked the question you knew you needed to hear the answer to. Deserved to hear the answer to. "Then why did you push me away?"
He leaned back, hands retreating to his hips, his gaze fell to the floor, a pink heat coloring his cheeks. "I thought I was pushing you into something you didn't want. I took it too far. Lost control. I thought you would be disgusted with me…I was. I thought it was better to end things…easier."
"Easier for who?" you asked.
"I told myself it was for you. To protect you. But I was protecting myself too. I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you. Never cared for anyone…I thought that if I pushed you away," he paused, struggling to get the words out. "If I pushed you away, you couldn't reject me."
"You're telling me the big hero, Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, a supersized super soldier was scared I wouldn't want him? You do realize how ridiculous that is, right? Why wouldn't I want you?"
"I've never found a woman that truly wanted me. Captain America, sure. But they all left as soon as they found out they were with Steve Rogers, a man who desires control and order."
"Safety and security." You placed your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer.
"See? No one else would see it that way. It's what makes you perfect me. It's what makes us perfect." He reached for you. Thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face.
Your lungs stopped, holding the air you inhaled hostage, while your heart tried to escape the prison of your rib cage. Your gaze fell to his lips. He leaned in, angling his head just right. So close. Eyes closing, you could feel the warmth of his skin, his lips whispered against yours.
A shrill chirping ripped you from your reverie. Your heads turned in tandem to the offending noise coming from your phone. One after another messages kept ringing in.
"See, this is why I always took this from you during work." He took the phone and handed it to you. "Nothing but a nuisance."
You scanned the messages and sighed. "It's Heather. She's gotta leave soon and wants to say bye before she goes." If Heather knew what she was interrupting she would die; she might die anyway because you could kill her right now.
Steve took a step back, his hands falling to his sides, waiting for you to dismount. You hopped down off the counter and hesitated. What should you do? Why was everything so awkward? You knew you both wanted each other. Hell, you had just agreed to move in, right? Or had that not actually been settled?
His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest. Tentatively, you allowed yourself to hug him back. Breathing in his scent, your body relaxed against him.
"I want you to go, say your goodbyes, and then pack all of your things. Bring everything back here. We have all the time in the world to figure everything else out." A soft kiss pressed against your forehead. Releasing you, he spun you around and gave you a little push.
In no time, you were back at your dorm wearing the same outfit from last night. The walk of shame, as they say, but you felt none. All you felt this morning was hope.
The shared dorm room already looked stark. With Heather's bedding, clothes, and some personal effects going home with her for the next month and a half, her desk and bed were cleared, closet empty. It depressed you more than you expected.
"Hey there, naughty girl. Are you seriously just getting in? So, things went well with Zach? Give me all the details in the next, like, 10 minutes because I've gotta get on the road." She laughed and pulled you into the room.
"I—uh—well, I did not go home with Zach." Shit, you should have thought of an alibi. You couldn't tell her where you were however if you said you couldn't she would know for sure. What would happen if other people found out?
Heather's eyes narrowed on you. "So where were you?"
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I took an Uber to Professor Rogers' house and kind of yelled at him then he made me sleep there since I was drunk."
"What?! You yelled at him then spent the night? You're telling me you slept with Professor Rogers?"
"No! I did sleep at his house which does not leave us. But I didn't sleep with him. I was drunk. He just made sure I was safe. I woke up, drank some coffee, and came back here."
Heather let out a huff of air, rolling her eyes skyward. "Well that's a huge disappointment. Why did you yell at him?" Her eyes stared, a glimmer of sadistic fascination danced within them.
"I don't even really remember. I had too much to drink. Zach was getting too handsy and when I went outside to cool off, I kind of decided I was mad at everyone. I probably shouldn't drink anymore." You laughed weakly, hoping this would be enough to calm her down.
"Wow. How are you going to face him next semester? I would die," Heather asked.
"Actually, I don't know if I'm coming back. I think I might take some time off and figure out what I want to do that will make me happy…not my parents."
Heather's eyes widen. "Not coming back? Seriously?"
You nodded, eyes moving around the room. It was weird this wouldn't be yours for much longer.
A shimmer of tears graced her lower lids. "What am I going to do without you?"
"Oh, you'll be fine. They probably won't even find you a replacement roommate. All this will be yours. Which means all the sleepovers you want."
"Stop trying to sugarcoat this. I'm gonna miss you. Come here." She opened her arms which you walked into, returning the hug in earnest.
"I'll miss you too." And surprisingly, you found that you meant it. Heather may not have always been the easiest to live with. The two of you were vastly different people, but she was your friend. She had always supported you in her own way. But your future wasn't here.
Heather had left with a few more goodbyes and hugs, leaving you alone. Breaking down your side of the room was easier than setting it up, but it still took most of the day. You put everything in the plastic bins and flattened boxes you had stashed under your bed. Lugging everything to the car, you had made sure to clean and sweep the empty space so hopefully when Heather got back the dust bunnies weren't the size of sewer rats. You were sweaty and tired but glad it was done.
The work of packing had offered you a chance to focus on something physical, concrete instead of the mess of emotions running through your brain. Any time you thought of Steve your stomach erupted in butterflies, rolling and flipping between excitement and anxiety. Having tasks was a reprieve from all the ways your brain would try to tell you what a mistake you were making.
Loading up the last of your belongings into your over-stuffed car, you headed to Steve's home, your home.
Steve wrapped the cord of the vacuum around the pegs of the handle in the empty closet. He'd been cleaning the house all day. It had to be perfect. Her side of the closet was ready for her now. He had even cleaned out a few drawers in the dresser so she'd have room to put her things.
He'd never lived with another woman before. The Avenger's Tower and Compound afforded everyone their own space with a few common areas. There was an adjustment period as everyone got used to respecting those common areas but there was never anyone in Steve's personal space. His room and bathroom had been his and his alone. Now he was going to get to see her things mingle with his. Tangible evidence that she was his. His and hers.
Images of taking her shopping, filling her side of the closet with clothes consumed his thoughts. He would spoil her endlessly. Making sure this house felt like a home. Giving her the safety and comfort she had always desired. Anything to make her happy.
Or was he just rationalizing his own greed and selfishness? Would he ever be able to just be happy? To not feel as though his happiness was a weakness, that putting himself as a priority would cause chaos in the world around him?
Steve sighed. They both deserved happiness. He would get his through hers.
The faint sound of a car door slamming outside reached his ears. He paused in front of the bathroom mirror, shocked at the smile that had come so naturally to his usually austere face. Just another thing he would have to get used to.
You pulled up to the house. Popping the trunk and opening the back doors to your small car, you started taking bags, bins, and boxes out. The front door opened. Steve smiled and joined you on the driveway.
"Is this all?" he asked, surveying the contents you were unloading.
"Well, yeah. I didn't really have a lot of room in the dorm. So, this is it." You slung a bag over your shoulder, ready to be done. At this point, you'd be willing to throw all your stuff in a bonfire rather than unpack it.
Picking up two plastic bins, he asked, "Do you have more at your parents' we need to go get?"
You shrugged. "Not really." Were you supposed to have more? You had never really had a space to call your own so the desire to accumulate things had never really manifested. And anything you did want to keep, found its way to the dumpster as soon as your mother had a chance.
It took the two of you no time to unload the car. Standing in your new closet, your clothes barely covered a fraction of the wooden bars that stretched across the perimeter of the room. It was a sad realization that your life couldn't even fill a walk-in closet.
"We'll have to go shopping," Steve said, turning in a circle as he surveyed the space he could fill. "And we'll redecorate, you can pick out what you like."
Decorating? Was he going to expect some expert housewife? Would you have to learn to decorate and host parties with trays of jellied hors d'oeuvres?
"I wouldn't even know what to get. My mom always wanted to be able to pretend my room was a guest room and at my dad's house I actually did sleep in the guest room on the rare occasions I was invited to stay. I don't want to ruin your house."
He stepped towards you, taking your hands in his. "Our house. I'm not attached to anything here—except maybe the office. It's the only room I helped picked things out for. Everything else a professional decorated. We can hire an interior decorator to help you figure out what styles you like."
That was somewhat of a relief. This would be the first time you would be able to make a space of your own. "What about what you like?"
He pulled you into an embrace. "As long as you don't paint this house hot pink, I think I can manage."
"Well, there goes my Barbie Dream House vision. Whatever shall I do now?" you said with mock disappointment.
He chuckled. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, but I have some ideas on ways to make it up to you." Steve slipped his hand in yours and pulled you into the bathroom.
The air around you seemed to change with the husky dip in his voice. "You do?" You watched as he reached into the shower and turned the knobs, all the streams of water start spraying in unison. You'd only ever used the overhead nozzle that made the water fall like a rain shower. It had seemed excessive to turn on the jets lining the sides of the tiled walls for only you.
You felt your jaw slacken when he pulled his shirt over his head. As his fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, you realized this was, in fact, going to happen. Fantasy would become reality. You would know what he felt like, tasted like. No more frustrated nights thinking of him while laying alone in the dark.
Steve undressed the two of you slowly, each layer falling to the floor, fingertips grazing your skin as he unhooked your bra, and pulled your panties down. Standing in front of him was intimidating, to say the least. He looked as though he could have been cut from marble.
You could feel all your insecurities rising. Would he find you attractive? Would you disappoint him in any way? How could you not? He was and always would be Captain America. The Golden Boy of the greatest generation and the embodiment of physical perfection.
"Open your eyes, sweetheart. You are so beautiful."
Not realizing you had been squeezing them shut, you blinked and focused on the solid chest in front of you as he guided you into the shower. You wanted this so much, dreamed of it.
Water ran down his body. How many times had you wanted to touch him as he greeted you at the door, glistening from a workout? The warm water enveloped you. Reaching out, you let your hand follow the curves of his muscular physique. The fluttering in your stomach abated a bit as evidence of his feelings swelled between his legs.
Steve squeezed some body wash into his hands, rubbing them together until bubbles formed. "Turn around. Hands on the wall."
Steam swirled through the air, condensation running down the tiles as you placed each hand on the wall. Your heart raced with anticipation, wondering what would happen next. Bracing yourself, you tensed then relaxed as his hands slid up your back creating a slippery layer of soap. His hands lathered the soap over your shoulders and all the way down to your hips. His hands glided over your backside, squeezing your thighs, spreading your cheeks slightly. He knelt behind you, his hands wandering up and down each leg until a foamy layer ran down them, gathering around your toes.
Standing again, Steve's arms wrapped around you, hands skimming the tops of your thighs, so close to parts of you already aching, up your abdomen until he cupped each breast with his hands. He massaged them in tandem, thick fingers amazingly dexterous as he pinched and rolled each nipple to hard points.
"Turn around," he commanded.
Turning in his arms, he lifted you easily, your arms wrapping around his neck. His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading them until you hooked your ankles behind his back. Rocking against his hard length, your clit ached, yearning for more pressure, more friction, more…
Steve's moan vibrated against your lips. "If I don't put you down, I'm not going to be able to stop."
"Then don't stop." You trailed kisses against his clenched jaw.
The growl in his chest rumbled against you as he set you down, both of you covered in bubbles that had built up between you. "Rinse off," was all he said as he splashed water onto his face and body, making sure he was clean.
You watched the white foam swirling around the drain, waiting. It took all your willpower not to reach out and stroke his cock, to see him lose control, but part of you wanted your first time with him to be slow and drawn out.
Steve turned the water off and grabbed two towels, draped one around your shoulders and the other around his waist.
"My eyes are up here," he said as he watched her eyes travel down his body, her teeth catching her bottom lip.
Chagrined and irresistibly cute, she worked on rubbing the towel over her body. He couldn't help but gaze himself as he watched her drying herself.
Wrapping the towel around her chest, her eyebrows raised. "My eyes are up here."
The smiled that played across her lips was too much. He grabbed her towel, quickly tugging her towards him. His mouth met hers as she stumbled forward. He expected her to be surprised, to tense at the sudden contact, but she melted against him. Her mouth relaxed, opening slightly, welcoming and inviting him to deepen the kiss. She was perfect. Perfect at testing his self-control. He'd had to fight for dominance with every other woman in his past but not her. Her sweet vulnerability drove him to his breaking point. It was as terrifying as it was tantalizing.
She deserved more than him taking her in a fit of lust against a cold tile wall. Deserved a warm bed. To be teased and touched and tasted, slowly and meticulously. To be turned into a dripping, desperate mess beneath him, begging him for the release only he could give her.
Breaking the kiss once more, he whispered, "Go lay down on the bed." He needed a minute to calm down and the anticipation would only heighten their experience. Slow and steady.
You laid on the bed, not knowing exactly what he wanted you to do. Hiding under the covers, you rested against a pillow and waited. You could feel the wetness that gathered between your legs. The pulsing ache of your clit. You wanted him but were terrified of disappointing him. Was there something he liked you should do? Was there something you shouldn't do? What if he wanted something weird?
"Roll over." Steve leaned against the door frame, boxer briefs hanging dangerously low on his waist.
Tossing the pillow to the side, you rolled over, laying on your stomach. Was he going to spank you? Oh god, what if he was into something harder than spanking? Whips? Chains? Was he going to 50 shades you? You didn't even have a safe word.
The blankets were pulled off your body. The mattress dipped as he climbed over you, his knees straddling your hips. Looming over you, he whispered in your ear, "Relax. Trust me."
His hands skimmed your shoulders, goosebumps rippled down your arms. His fingers kneaded your muscles. Your body immediately relaxed, allowing Steve to work the tension along your spine. A groan caught in your throat as his thumb circled over a knot working the spot in a mix of pleasure and pain as the stiffness melted away.
Steve moved down your body, trapping your thighs between his as he manipulated the muscles of your lower back. You could feel him, hovering. All it would take was a slight arch of your back, to press against him.
As soon as your hips lifted, a swift swat landed on your thigh. "No."
That one word was all it took to make your body squirm. Made you want to move more, rubbing against him, feeling him get hard against you. But you held still, fighting against your instincts. This wasn't some rushed high school date trying to squeeze in as much as you could before curfew. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to enjoy the massage and ignore the need building in your body. There would be time for all of that later.
Steve chuckled to himself. He'd barely begun, and she was already showing signs of breaking. And he wanted her to break. Wanted her begging beneath him. Writhing with need. To see her undone, would be one of the most beautiful things he'd ever witness. To know that he was the one that put her in that state, that he controlled her pleasure, would finally give him all he ever wanted. Everything after that was more than he could have ever dreamed of.
He lifted himself off of her, standing on the floor at the edge of the bed, his hands never leaving her. He grabbed her backside, kneading the flesh, spreading the cheeks slightly before moving lower to her thighs. Starting at her knees, he worked his way up the length of her legs, his fingers tips dipping between them, dangerously close to her pussy as he manipulated her muscles. He let his fingertip graze against her, heat radiating from her core. How hot, how wet would she get?
Up and down the length of her legs, he let his hands roam, from the top of her thighs to the tips of her toes. Needy little moans, pressed into the mattress, grew louder with every touch of his fingers between her thighs.
When her back arched; he pressed her hips back down. When she subtly inched her legs further apart, granting him easier access; he pushed her ankles back together and started again from her shoulders, working back down until her body shook with anticipation and her moans had melded into frustrated whines.
Your skin felt hot. Every inch feverish. You'd yet to make it more than a few minutes without moving, without your body reacting to his touch, needing more. Every attempt to goad him into progressing his attentions was met with a frustrating restart. "Please," you finally pleaded.
The sound of fabric hitting the floor sounded the removal of his boxers. He climbed back on the bed, hands gripping your hips, flipping you over onto your back. "Please, what?" he asked.
Thoughts jumbled; words scattered in your brain as you reached for them in the haze of your mind. "I need…" You moaned as he spread your legs. All thought left as you laid exposed before him.
"What do you need, sweetheart?" he asked, lowering himself between your legs. He pressed a kiss to your right thigh then nipped at the left. "Is this what you need?" His breath playing across the sensitive juncture sent shivers through your body.
Your answer caught in your throat as his tongue swept through your slit but lifted before reaching your clit. His tongue traced the around your pussy, through your folds, his beard scraping against your thighs, always avoiding the one place you needed him to touch. You angled your hips seeking to guide him and only succeeding in him stopping altogether.
His teeth grazed your leg, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Little girl, the quicker you realize you are not in control, the faster you get what you want…"
A frustrated growl earned you a quick nip. Didn't he understand that your body was on fire? Didn't he know that you ached? Your desires bringing you to edge of pain?
The way he lazily licked through your delicate flesh once more, his eyes catching yours, daring you to move, answered your questions. He did know. He wanted you to burn. He was purposefully denying you, waiting for you to give in, to give him full control over you.
The minute your body relaxed and your legs fell to the sides, his lips encircled your bundle of nerves. Your fingers twisted in the sheets below you, back arching off the mattress. You were already so close.
He hungrily feasted between your legs as though starved. Moans rent the air as he slid a finger then two into your slick entrance. His fingers stroked your walls, curling and pumping as his mouth sucked and licked your clit. Your body stiffened as it climbed ever higher, ever closer to that peak you longed to fall off of. Then he was gone. All sensations ceased.
Blinking you looked up at him, kneeling between your spread legs. His hand stroked his length as the other wiped the glistening wetness from his chin. He crawled over your body, planting his hands on either side of your head.
Damning the consequences, or maybe welcoming them, you pulled him down, arms wrapping around his neck. His blues eyes dark and dilated, drinking you in before his mouth crashed down on yours. Tongues curled around each other; teeth nipped at bottom lips. Remaining passive was no longer an option. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you swallowed the growl that rumbled from his throat as he lined himself up with your dripping cunt.
You expected him to plunge into the hilt without warning. Taking what he wanted. Taking what you offered. Instead, he worked his cock one shallow thrust at a time, filling and stretching you slowly, inch by inch, building up the pressure between your legs once more, until he filled you completely. Fingernails raked his shoulders, a fine mist of sweat glittered your body as it shook, anticipating the release he would finally give you. Your feet dropped to the mattress, heels digging into the sheets trying to gain leverage, hoping to encourage his movement despite his warning.
"God, you feel so good. So perfect." He peppered kisses along your neck. His hips pulled back, his hand reached between you, fingertips circling your clit, as a strong thrust rocked your body. Again and again, he snapped his hips, driving himself deep inside you, his fingers never relenting. "I wanna feel you come. Come. Now."
His command was your undoing. Your muscles tightened, constricting around him as waves of pleasure undulated through your body. Gasping for breath, you had barely any time to recover before he quickened his pace. Your body responded in kind. Heat and tension building once more.
"Again."
A second orgasm crashed over you. The noises issuing around you sounded foreign but the rawness in your throat confirmed they came from you. Prolonging your spasm, he followed you over the edge with a few more thrusts. Your body lax beneath, completely spent, his body quaked with aftershocks.
Rolling to off you, he pulled you against him. His lips pressed against your crown. "I've wanted you for so long. I can't believe you're finally mine."
Snuggling into his chest, your hand roamed his sides marveling at the softness of his skin and the hard muscles underneath. You wanted nothing more than to stay just like this forever. Your stomach, however, had other ideas. A loud growling issued between you.
Propping himself up on his elbow, brows knitted in consternation, Steve looked down at you. "Did you eat today?"
Damn. "I forgot. I was just so busy trying to get back here."
Steve muttered something about responsibility and repercussions as he left the room, returning wearing pajama pants and carrying a shirt and shorts for you. Dressing you swiftly, he threw you over his shoulder swatting your backside as he carried you to the kitchen. He plopped you down in a seat and turned to the kitchen gathering plates and ingredients. You watched as he crafted you a sandwich and set it in front of you.
You smiled and took a bite. All you had ever wanted was someone to care about you. To care for you. Never in your wildest dreams on that first day of class could you have imagined that someone being Professor Rogers.
Steve grabbed a new notebook and sat across the table from her as she ate. He started scribbling a new story. One just for him. A tale of loss, love, and ultimately redemption. With her, he would have a chance at the life he had long given up on. A life fulfilled not by grand acts of heroism that saved countless lives but with small daily reminders that he was loved and worthy of love outside of his uniform. The fountain pen scratched at the paper, looping his letters together. As much as everyone would assume he saved her, plucking her out of relative obscurity; she had saved him.
Author's Note- Ok, kiddos…that's it. We've only got a short epilogue left. If you enjoyed it please let me know. Thanks so much to everyone who has followed and read. I really appreciate you reading!