Chapter 27.

Skye moaned as Steve touched her knee tentatively. "Please. Steve, please, you won't hurt me, I need…"

He realised, suddenly, that both her wrists and ankles were cuffed to the gurney. "I'm already going to burn in hell," he muttered gruffly, "no way am I doing this to a woman who can't even resist." He reached to undo the straps at her feet.

"Steve," Skye wailed, jerking her hips frantically, "never mind that, PLEASE!"

"All right," he said hurriedly, "all right, Skye, shhh, try and relax." One hand scrabbled at the Velcro straps as he stroked the other up her leg. He could see wetness between her thighs, and as he tentatively touched her she lifted her hips against his hand.

"Yes," Skye gasped as Steve finally put his hand where she wanted it. He released one of her hands at the same time and she brought it down to grab his wrist, pressing his fingers hard against her and riding his hand. "There. Omigod. There."

Steve hated himself for wanting to bring his fingers to his mouth and taste. Instead, he stroked gently, circling her clit with his fingers, pressing more firmly when she tugged at his wrist, letting out a little gasp of relief as Skye suddenly jerked and gasped, her head arching back, her small fingers clenching tight against his hand.

Skye let out a little sobbing sound and collapsed back against the pillow. "Thank you," she muttered drunkenly.

Steve hesitated, and then remembered what May had said. "Come on, doll. Let's get you somewhere more comfortable." He tucked the sheet about her again before lifting her, cradling her gently to his chest. She nestled her head against his shoulder and made a contented little humming sound.

Clint was the one who met Steve at the door to May's office. "Steve, are you okay with this?" he asked urgently. "You need – look, you need to drop your inhibitions and take care of her, all right? Can you do that?"

"I'll do whatever needs to be done," Steve said, jaw tightening.

Clint looked at Skye, a small smile still lingering on her face, and then back at Steve. "It will get worse," he said bluntly, shoving a bag at Steve. "In here is Skye's vibrator. May got it from her room. And some condoms."

Face flaming, Steve shook his head. "Natasha said sex wasn't necessary…"

"Natasha is the only person who's known to have gotten someone through this without actually having penetrative sex," Clint said even more bluntly. "And she's had very specialised training. You can try. But don't endanger Skye's life with your damned nineteen-forties hangups." He pointed at a band around Skye's wrist, hanging limply down. "Jemma left a heart rate monitor on her which we're remotely monitoring. Her pulse hits 200, Natasha's coming in."

"Got it," Steve gritted out, grabbed the bag from Clint's hand, and shoved the office door open. Pausing, he glanced at Clint. "Bucky…"

"I'll keep Barnes unconscious until we've got time to deal with him," Clint promised, pushing Steve into the office. "Forget him. Worry about Skye."

Steve nodded, kicked the door shut behind him and laid Skye gently down on the bed.

"Why don't you want to have sex with me?" Skye asked in a small voice, and Steve cursed inwardly, sitting down beside her and taking one of her hands in his.

"Because you don't really want to have sex with me," he told her, running his free hand though his hair in exasperation. "This is the drug in you talking, Skye. When you realised that Rumlow had touched you, you felt sick. I don't want you throwing up because of me when you're over this, or unable to look me in the eye. We're friends, and I don't have so many friends that I want to lose one because I took advantage of her in a vulnerable situation."

"Oh," Skye sighed. "Damn. Because you are really, seriously hot. We could just hook up and still be friends tomorrow?"

"Still sounds like the drug talking," but he smiled, because she did sound more like the Skye he was coming to know. "Listen, while you're reasonably lucid, can you tell me what Rumlow did to you? Did he rape you? I'm going to kill him anyway if Thor didn't get the job done, by the way, but – well, you might need blood tests, or a morning after pill…"

Skye was shaking her head. "No, thank God, it didn't get that far. Wasn't far off, though, when he saw Thor's lightning in the distance and decided to bug out. He was talking to someone on comms, they hadn't expected pursuit so soon. Rumlow decided to leave me there so you wouldn't follow. Said you'd have your hands full with me." She gave a wry little smile. "I guess I know now what he meant, huh?"

"Skye, don't worry about that," he couldn't help stroking her dark hair back from her face. "We just want you to be okay again. I was scared out of my mind when we got back to the Bus and found you and Fitz gone."

"Fitz is okay?" she asked, eyes widening. "I saw him downstairs…"

"He's fine."

"Good," she breathed, and then she ran her fingers up his arm. "I get that you don't want to have sex with me. But would you please let me look at you?" It was a shy, sweet little smile she gave him. "You are very gorgeous. All those muscles will feed my fantasies nicely."

Steve smiled. "All right, sweetheart. Whatever you want."

"Except sex," Skye said as he peeled the top of the suit off.

Steve swallowed nervously. "If it turns out that you need that, yes, that too. But we'll try it the other way first, hmm?"

"Mmm," Skye agreed, her eyes glazing over as he turned back to her. "Oh. Can I touch you? Please?"

Steve didn't hesitate. "Of course you can." He lay down beside her, letting her run her hands greedily over his chest and shoulders.

"It's starting to hurt again," Skye whispered a little while later.

"All right, Skye. Let me take care of you." Gently he stroked at her thighs, and she parted them willingly, hooking a knee over his hip. Soft little moans escaped her lips as Steve ran his fingers through the black curls between her thighs, exploring her folds carefully. It was beginning to dawn on him that if Jemma couldn't get the antidote quickly, Skye was going to get very sore. He needed to be as gentle as he could.

Unfortunately, it seemed that gentle wasn't going to get Skye off. She grabbed his wrist again, holding his hand harder against her, trying to grind on his fingers, broken little pleas spilling from her. Carefully Steve insinuated one long finger inside, crooking it gently, rubbing a little faster with his thumb. She was absolutely soaking, her juices running down his fingers as he eased a second finger in. And then she was coming, squeezing his fingers tight, crying his name in a soft breathy voice that nearly had all Steve's good resolutions flying out of the window.

Steve took his hand off Skye and had to lie on his front for a couple of minutes, breathing deeply and thinking about ice. His cock was painfully hard. Not happening, not happening, not happening, he chanted silently to himself.

To his surprise, Steve felt Skye's small hand touch his shoulder, and she asked "Are you all right?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine. I just…" he sighed at her curious look. "I'm having a natural male reaction. You're beautiful and, well, I'm not a saint. Despite the propaganda."

Skye's eyes widened. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course you're beautiful. But you're also my friend and I'm not going to wreck our friendship by doing anything that makes me not want to face myself in the mirror tomorrow."

Skye smiled, her small hand still stroking at his shoulder, and then she asked "Would you kiss me? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he couldn't deny her that, certainly not when she asked in that soft, plaintive tone. He leant over and placed his lips over hers, intending to keep the kiss light, but Skye very clearly had other ideas. She opened her mouth under his and licked his top lip. "You're bruised," he told her quietly, moving back, touching her lower lip with the tip of his finger. "Been bleeding, too."

"He bit me," she looked away, and when she looked back her eyes were filled with shame. "I liked it."

"That wasn't you, Skye, that was the drug," Steve pulled her into his arms, and she laid her head on his chest, putting her small arms around him as far as she could reach. "That bastard drugged you and tried to take advantage, and you can't blame yourself for anything. You mustn't. None of this is your fault."

For about fifteen long minutes Skye was able to lie still in Steve's arms, and for the first five or so she was relaxed and comfortable. But slowly, the pain started to creep up on her again. It started with an ache in her groin, spread rapidly to her breasts, and very shortly she was shifting around, unable to be still, starting to sweat and pant again.

"Skye," Steve said, realising she was in distress, "don't wait until it hurts to tell me. You don't need to be in pain."

She let out a strangled sound, fingers clawing at his shoulders. "Help me!"

"Of course. Here," he reached down off the bed and came up with the bag Clint had given him. Rooting around in it, he found not only condoms, a vibrator and a spare packet of batteries, but also a bottle of lube. "Would you rather I used this?"

"Oh, Bob, thank goodness," she tried to grab the vibrator, but her hands were shaking too much. "Please. Stick it in me. I need it. Please."

"Bob?" he couldn't help but grin, even as he quickly squirted lube onto the rubber toy and started teasing it around her entrance.

"Battery operated boyfriend," Skye gained back a little lucidity as Steve pressed the vibrator inside her slowly. "Girl's best friend, switch it on, turn it right up…"

"Let's save the higher settings for later," Steve suggested, selecting the lowest speed. The vibrator had a pair of little bits sticking out the side like rabbit ears, and he figured out they were supposed to massage Skye's clit. She let out a soft keening sound as he pressed them against her, her back arching. Her fingers came up and plucked at her nipples, already hard and pointed, and Steve hesitated only a moment before brushing one of her hands aside and replacing it with his mouth, suckling hungrily. Skye's fingers slid into his hair, pressing him to her, and she moaned again in that way.

Steve let out a muffled moan of his own as Skye came, screwing his eyes tightly shut against the sight of the beautiful girl in bed with him gasping out his name in the throes of her climax.

This was the most horrible kind of torture. Skye was pure temptation. It took him a couple of minutes, in which he deliberately ground the rabbit ears against her clit, prolonging her pleasure, to realise that he really should stop.

"Shit!" Steve muttered, turning the vibrator off and easing it gently out of Skye. She collapsed against him, breathing fast.

"Oh, wow," Skye mumbled. "That was hot. That was really fucking good. Can we do that again in a minute?"

"We'll probably have to," Steve muttered, feeling ashamed of himself. Goddamn it, he knew he had to be gentle, or Skye was going to end up feeling like she had been gang-banged by the HYDRA thugs. How long was the damn antidote going to take, anyway? He debated going to the desk and calling down to the lab, but realistically he knew Jemma would be working as fast as she possibly could and demands from him to hurry it up could only be counter-productive.

Skye nuzzled against Steve's chest. "God, you're so sexy," she mumbled. "Do you have a girlfriend? Are we all going to have to be sworn to secrecy so she never finds out?"

"Nothing like that," Steve found himself smiling, stroking Skye's hair again. "I don't have a girlfriend, no."

"Why on earth not?" she leaned back and looked up at him, her eyes clear and lucid. For now. "I mean, seriously. Girls must be throwing themselves at you."

"They tend to be throwing themselves at Captain America," Steve said, "which is not the same thing. I'm afraid outside the suit, I'm kind of boring. I don't like the things modern girls seem to like."

"Such as?"

This was a deeply odd conversation to have with her naked in his arms, but hell, they had to pass the time somehow until he had to pleasure her again. "I like old-fashioned things. Actual paper books. Movies at a cinema. Walks in the park. Jazz. Modern girls seem to be all about clubbing and Facebook and what Clint calls doof-doof music. Or they talk about things that make no sense. Pepper tried to set me up with one of her friends, and all she talked about was someone called Jimmy Choo."

Skye giggled into his chest. "Oh my God, I am so telling Pepper you said that. I need to see her face." She laughed even harder as Steve's puzzled expression. "Never mind. Steve, there's nothing wrong with all those things you like. Any girl would be mad to not like you because of that." She smiled up at him, and he smiled back for a moment before seeing the corners of her mouth twist.

"Is it starting to hurt again?" he asked softly.

Skye nodded, and he could see the fear in her eyes. "It's getting worse," she murmured, "isn't it? The breaks between are getting shorter, too."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Steve vowed. "You know how brilliant Jemma is: she'll be up here before you know it with the antidote. And until then, I'm gonna help you feel better."

"I'm scared," she whispered, and his heart broke for her.

"Don't be scared," he said quietly. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

"When this is over," Skye said, biting at her lip to try and suppress the building pain, "will you take me for a walk in the park?"

"I'd love to," Steve promised. "It's a date."

"Good." And then she shuddered, her brow creasing, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, "Oh God, Steve. Please…"

"Shh," he kissed her gently, picking up the vibrator again. "Let me make you feel good again."

Oh, Steve. Such a gentleman.

(Phew. Is it warm in here, or is that just me spontaneously combusting?)