Disclaimer:The content which is displayed below holds themes that are considered mature, minors are not to interact, thank you
Pairing: nomad!steve rogers x female reader
Summary:Working alongside Steve meant following a lot of orders, however this didn’t mean you had the obligation of obeying these orders – Steve didn’t like this. This leads to a lot of unsaid words, emotions and thoughts between you two.
Warning:Angst, fluff, smut – mdom!steve rogers, slight fdom from y/n, teasing, seggual tension, ooc steve rogers, slight praise kink, use of the word slut, p in v (minors dni, you will be blocked).
“I told you not to leave your post. Why do you continue to go against everything I say?” Steve’s voice continued to bounce of the walls of the briefing room as he paced back and forth.
He had been ranting on about your latest mission, which you just got back from. Both of you were still in your attire from the mission.
“Wanda needed the reinforcement, if I stayed at my post – doing nothing, then the mission would’ve been compromised.” You stated calmly resting your hands on the table in front of you.
“That’s what you’re not understanding y/n, Wanda has powers, she could’ve taken care of herself. You on the other hand…” He stopped before he said something which would worsen the argument even more.
“What Steve? Why don’t you finish what you’re saying?” You folded your arms and looked at him with a raised brow.
He released a sigh and pinched his brow but winced when he remembered the deep cut on it. He didn’t mean for to insinuate anything.
“Look y/n, I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“And no one did, we managed fine.”
Steve’s eyes directed itself to yours and then to your side.
He knew.
He saw you wincing when Sam nudged your side as you made your way off the quinjet limping.
“Lift up your shirt for me.” He said walking towards where you were seated.
You stared at him challengingly, when he raised a brow, you gave in and did as he said.
His eyes were met with a gash which painted the left side of your torso in red. He bent down till he was at your level and gently traced his fingers along the gash. Goosebumps erupted at the feel of his fingers.
You watched as he clenched his jaw and looked up at you.
“This is why I give you orders.” He whispered.
You didn’t say anything, afraid at how he may react.
“We need to get you to the med bay.” He moved your chair forward and put his one hand under your legs whilst the other went to support your back.
“I can walk there just fine.” You said as he stood up with you in his arms.
“You were limping off the quinjet, there’s no way I’m letting you walk to the med bay.” He stated beginning to walk out of the briefing room.
By now everyone had been in their rooms cleaning up and having a rest, which made the compound more quiet than usual. Once at the med bay, he let the nurses tend to you. He waited there the entire time.
Dr. Helen had informed Steve that the gash at your side wasn’t anything to be worries about and would eventually turn into a bruise, but it’ll be okay in a few weeks. He declined Helen’s help to tend to the cut on his eyebrow, claiming he needed to ensure you were taken care of first.
“Alright, c’mon.” He said helping you off the bed and onto your feet.
“I can walk this time, Captain.” You insisted, pushing his hand away.
He took note of the use of ‘Captain’ – which to him let it be known that you were still angry.
“Steve.” He said and put his hand at the small of your back guiding you to your room.
The walk to your room was silent, he waited in your room as you showered.
When you got out of the bathroom, he diverted his eyes away from you as you changed by your closet. He tried his best to divert his mind away from the thought of your body, even though you two shared many moments together.
Once you were dressed, he turned to make his way to his room, but stopped at the call of his name.
“Yes?” He responded turning back to you.
“Come here.” You motioned your head to the couch in your room as you took out your first aid kit from your nightstand.
“You don’t have to-“
“Come here.” You repeated yourself, your voice sterner this time.
He made his way to the couch and sat down, resting his back against the back of the couch.
The couch was low enough so that he was at waist level for you, although his wound was on the opposite side of where you were. The slight movement of you bending over made you gasp in pain.
Steve’s hands made its way to your waist to sturdy you.
“I told you not to.”
You straddle him as you clean the cut, it wasn’t something out of the ordinary. There were many moments where you and Steve had been in the position you were in. However, this time it felt different to the both of you.
The cut was deep, but not deep enough to need stitches.
“It was stupid of you to not get this checked out when we were at the med bay.” You dabbed the cottonwool on his eyebrow a bit too hard, making him wince causing you to pull back and move your hips in the process.
Steve could feel you press against him, the movement of your hips made him start to grow hard.
“You were hurt” He stated gazing from your eyes to your lips.
You roll your eyes at his words and go back to cleaning his wound.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you with my words earlier.” He said letting his hands massage your waist up and down.
“I know.” You give him a small smile.
“I care about yo-, the team.”
Although his words were meant to be thoughtful, you couldn’t help but feel a sting that he changed his words at the last moment.
“You best be on your way then… to get some rest!” You went to move from straddling him, but his hands tightened at your waist pulling you back down into his lap.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile.
Steve gently lifted you off him like it was nothing.
He got up from the couch and made his way to the door, you watched him from where you were, with the first aid kit still in hand.
“Good night y/n.” He said walking to your door.
“Good night.”
And with the closing of the door, he was gone.
The next day Steve hardly acknowledged you. At breakfast he sat the furthest away from you, when you went to talk to him, he dismissed you saying he was needed in a meeting with Tony.
He’d basically did everything he could to avoid you.
At night he would normally come to your room, talk for a little – which would result in him sometimes sleeping in your room, but that night he hadn’t come to your room.
After that, you didn’t try to interact with him.
This behaviour continued for the rest of the week.
Avoiding you at training, making excuses to not talk to you and keeping away from you entirely. Although that never stopped the two of you from looking at each other longingly. There was nothing but Steve’s own thoughts stopping him from talking to you.
The idea that he needed to stay away from you in order to keep his professional life and personal life from mixing had solidified in his mind.
You were causing him to feel things he had been trying to keep away from.
Being Captain America to him meant committing to helping his country to the best of his ability, and for that to happen he couldn’t be emotionally involved with you.
It was now Saturday morning, Steve had been sitting and pondering on these thoughts when you walked into the livingroom where he, Natasha and Bucky were sat.
“Any plans for this weekend y/n?” Natasha asked as you walked into the room.
Your eyes met Steve’s briefly before looking to Natasha’s.
“I’m having dinner tonight with someone.” You said only intending for her to hear, although thanks to Steve’s super hearing, he heard it too.
“Is that so? And whom might the lucky gentlemen be?” Natasha said happy at the news.
“Someone I met this week through training.” You answered sitting down on the couch next to her.
Steve looked in your direction at the mention of that. He usually was the one to train with you. So, if it weren’t for him avoiding you this week, then you wouldn’t be going to dinner with someone tonight.
He continued to listen to your conversation with Natasha and took note of the time you would leave for your date.
“Something wrong Steve?” Bucky asked once he realised Steve hadn’t been listening to what he was saying.
“No, everything’s just fine.” He grumbled while looking to you.
Towards the afternoon, you were looking for Natasha to ask her opinion on your dress for your date when you heard Steve and Bucky talking.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this. You both clearly like each other.” Bucky said with a sigh.
“Because Bucky, its too dangerous. I care too much about y/n to involve her in the trouble that may come with me being Captain America.”
“No one is going to hurt her. She’s more skilled than I am in combat, and she has a whole team of assassins, spies and superhero’s looking out for her all the time.”
It was in that moment Steve realised that maybe, just maybe allowing himself to be with you isn’t a bad thing.
“Maybe you’re right Buck.” You heard him say softly.
You walked away from the conversation with an idea in your mind. An idea that would make Steve Rogers surely lose his mind.
The time for your date was nearing and you were almost finished getting ready. A knock at your door caught you attention as you were trying to zip up your dress.
You were in the bathroom and called out loud for whoever it was to come in.
In your bathroom were big mirrors which allowed you to be able to see who it was behind you.
“Steve?” You said his name.
“Hi.” He greeted, letting his eyes roam your body.
“You look beautiful.” He said walking up behind you, till his front was pressed against your back.
You watched him in the reflection of the mirror as he let his hands settle on your hips.
When he came to your room, it was his intention to speak to you and let you know the reason behind his recent behaviour.
“Is this what you’re wearing for your date?” He asked, with a hint of anger in his tone.
“Yes.” You replied shakily as his one hand made its way to your exposed back.
Your skin was smooth on his fingertips, Steve felt himself grow hard at the thought of what you would feel like against his body, writhing beneath him in pleasure.
“Do you mind zipping up my dress?”
His eye’s met yours in his reflection.
He moved your open hair to the side and traced his fingers from your collar bone to your back.
The zip seemed so little in his fingertips as he zipped you up.
“Is that alright?” He asked huskily.
You nodded in response.
Your body pressed into his, letting your butt press against his hard cock.
His reaction surprised you as his fingers made their way around your neck, squeezing gently.
“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmured while pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.
“Is that so?” You ask.
It wasn’t often that you got to see this side of Steve. He was only ever physically affectionate when it was the two of you, late at night sharing a bed. You hadn’t yet crossed the boundaries of sleeping with each other. All you ever craved was each other’s affection and warmth.
“Mmm-hmm.” He hummed.
You turn around slowly, his gaze on you is fixed and filled with lust. You make the bold move of trailing your hands down his chest and to his jeans.
“If you really wanted me to know what you’d do to me, you would’ve shown me by now.” Your hands moved in a slow motion teasing his cock through his jeans.
He moaned at the contact; this was the furthest you two had gotten in terms of being physical.
“You make it hard for me to keep control around you princess.” The nickname made you smile; your hand movements hadn’t stopped – in fact Steve was now beginning to thrust his hips into your hand.
“I would let you do whatever you want to me. Fuck me till I’m senseless, make love to me till I’m begging you to stop… but it’s too bad that our interests lie in different places.”
You stopped all movement and stepped away from him.
Looking to you in a confused daze, he watched as you walked out of the bathroom and into your room to retrieve your purse.
“Thank you helping me with my dress Steve, but I should get going. I wouldn’t want to be late.” You walked towards the door and opened it, you looked back to him – he was now stood in your room watching after you with desire.
The truth was you hadn’t really gone for your date. When you overheard the conversation between Bucky and Steve you cancelled the date and set about a new plan.
You knew what Steve was going to do; besides Bucky, you were the only other person to know him like the back of your hand.
You informed Natasha to be the one to tell him where your supposed date was going to be. Like a man on a mission, you saw him walk into the bar looking around for you.
As soon as he spotted you, he walked in your direction. There you were sat, with a glass in your hand.
As he neared, you set the glass on the bar top and leaned on your elbows as your supported your head up.
“Took you long enough.” You murmured.
“Where’s your date?” He asked.
“He just arrived.”
You motioned for the bartender to come your way, you ordered Steve’s favourite drink – even thought you knew it wouldn’t affect him one bit.
“Take a seat.” You patted the chair next to yours.
He listened to you and sat down.
“So, what are you going to be having for dinner?”
That’s when it registered in Steve’s mind.
“You little minx.”
The waiter took your menu’s away. Steve hadn’t stopped gazing at you the entire time.
“We have a lot to talk about.”
“We do.” You agreed.
His blue eyes meet yours; he takes that moment to really look at you, the women he’s come to feel so much for.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve been towards this week.” He explained shaking his head briefly.
“I accept your apology… I genuinely thought I’d done something to push you away from me, and that’s the last thing I’d ever want.” You said in honesty.
“You could never do anything to push me away.” He reached forward and took your hand in his, “I thought my choice would be the best thing for us.”
He took a moment to form the right words to say.
“I always had this idea in my head that love had to wait. I’m too consumed in the life of being Captain America. Steve Rogers barely exists to me anymore.” His tone was low as he said this.
It was hard for him to admit, being a part of S. H. I. E. L. D had taken its toll on Steve. His been playing the role of a superhero for so long that he could barely recognize himself.
“Steve Rogers exists to me. The boy from Brooklyn who wanted to help those who needed it most, I see him in you every day.” You assure him.
“Sometimes its not a bad thing to be selfish. You of all people have earned that choice.”
This is why Steve feels the way he does towards you. You always knew the right things to say.
“Everyone I’ve ever cared about has been affected by this. Peggy, Bucky – the whole team, which is why I thought by pushing you away I would be keeping you safe.” He explained giving your hand a gentle squeeze.
“You don’t need to push me away. I’m here, always.”
“I know princess, and I realised that I’d rather have you close to me than far away.” In that moment the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
“So, what did you think about my plan on you?” You asked leaning on your door.
“I liked your plan, especially the beginning of it.” He rested his hand on the wall behind you, trapping you against his body.
“Is that so?” You asked with a raised brow.
He smirked at your words and brought his lips to yours.
This kiss was something you both have craved since the moment you knew life would be dull without the other. Steve knew the moment his lips touched yours that there was no going back on how he felt for you.
“I love you so fucking much.” He murmured against your lips, bringing his hand up to touch your face.
“I love you too.” You giggle as he trails kisses from your kisses from your lips to your neck.
“I don’t think Tony would appreciate the PDA if he were to check the camera’s.” Your eyes go to the camera in the corner pointed in your direction of the hallway.
“We need more privacy then.”
He clasped your room doorknob in his hand, very clumsily opening it while trying not to break contact from you as he kisses you.
Once successfully in the room, you put your hands on his broad shoulders to briefly pull him away you.
“I want you to do whatever you want with me.” You stated referring to your conversation from earlier.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“More than I’d ever been before.” You smile as he lifts you off the ground before you can even finish your sentence.
“The number of times I’d wish to have you beneath me in this bed.” He said settling you down on the bed carefully to not hurt your injury from the mission.
“Show me then.” You said boldly.
Steve’s mind couldn’t form a response as he began to start undoing your dress and getting rid of his attire.
“Your body is something only angels would carve so perfectly.” He growled out while gazing down at you.
You were perched up on your elbows, in nothing – naked to Steve’s roaming eyes.
“I could say the same about you.” You say biting your lip at the sight of him.
He smirked at your expression and situated himself between your legs.
“This is all yours.” He said taking your hand in his to trail down his body. His hand settled yours on his hard cock. You gasp at how hard he is – Steve’s size was enough to have you unconsciously roll your eyes to the back of your head.
“You do this to me.” He said taking note of your hungry eyes.
His fingers made their way to your pussy, “So fucking wet for me already.”
You moaned at the contact and bucked your hips forward, Steve chuckled at your movement.
“So impatient.” He teased you more by adding pressure to his fingers, “Lets see if I can make you cum like this.”
He teased your clit, moving his fingers in an 8 symbol. He picked up speed on it as your began to moan more and more louder.
“That’s it princess, let me hear you.” He encouraged, now teasing the entrance of your pussy with his fingers, in a slow motion his finger delved inside of you.
He hissed at the tightness you held around his index and middle finger.
“So fucking tight.”
You were getting close to your cumming as he left his thumb tease and occasionally circle your clit.
“I can feel you clenching on my fingers, you gonna cum for me princess? You gonna cum on my fingers?”
You nodded your head in response as he stared at your intently.
Your eyes soon rolled to the back of your head as his fingers still moved inside of you. Steve was laying small kisses on your cheek, calming you down from the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm.
When you refocused your eyes, you saw Steve now between your legs, moving his hand up and down his cock while looking at your body.
He let his tip tease your sensitive clit, smirking as you still moved your hips forward.
“You still want more hmm?”
He teased your clit by lightly slapping his tip against it.
“Beg for it.” He demanded in a stern tone.
“Please give me your cock Steve, I need to feel you.” You begged as you peered up at him.
Your words seem to do something to him as he took his tip and slowly entered you.
A gasp escaped your lips as he stretched you open.
“Slowly baby, we’ll go slow.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his hips moved more towards yours.
The sting of having his big cock in you was enough to make the pain pleasurable.
He didn’t stop till his pelvis met yours, completely making you feel full of him.
“You’re doing so good for me.” He praised.
When he went to pull back, he didn’t move back completely – he was still deep inside you when he thrusted forward.
He continued this sweet torture till you were clenching around him.
“Faster Steve, please.” You gasped out with his hand around your neck.
He didn’t waste time picking up his pace. The only thing that could be heard in the room were the slapping of your skin against one another, the moans coming from you and Steve and lastly the slight hitting of your headboard against the wall.
With each thrust Steve was going faster and harder. He went from making sweet love to you, to full on fucking you like his dirty little slut.
“Steve- fuck. Cumming.” Was all you managed to get out as your orgasm hit you.
Steve was moaning into your neck as his own orgasm hit him. He kept the same pace and motion as he came in you. He only stopped when the pleasure became too much, and his cock was sensitive.
He moved back and laid his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes. In that moment there was nothing else in your world except you, Steve and the love you had for one another.
“You know,” Tony starts, walking slowly beside Steve as they make their way out of the Avengers compound, “I need to take a page out of you and Barton’s book.”
Steve chuckles, resting his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean. Pep and I just can’t find the time to settle down, you know? She doesn’t want to give up control of Stark Industries and,” He peeks out over the rims of his expensive sunglasses at the tall blonde man, “You know me.” He shrugs.
Steve can’t help but smile, nodding his head in agreeance, “You do like a good party.”
The playboy shrugs, cocking his eyebrow and flashing that million dollar smile that Steve knows all too well. Tony tilts his wrist toward him, illuminating the state of the art Hublot watch, “You should get home to those babies. Take the Audi.”
He tosses the key fob haphazardly into the air, know that Steve will undoubtedly and skillfully catch it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step before Steve calls, “I can’t, Tony. I’ve got my bike.”
“Live a little, will ya?”
“Tony-“
The billionaire just lifts his hand into the air, continuing his stroll toward his own vehicle, “See you when I see you old man.”
Steve rolls his eyes but smiles all the way through, “Since when is a hundred old?” He calls loudly, “I feel like a teenager!”
“You look like one too.”
Steve watches for a few minutes more as Tony jumps behind the wheel of his other brand new, shiny Audi and speeds off down the dirt road. His blue green eyes land on the orange Audi R8. He takes a step toward it and quirks his eyebrow toward the sky as the engine automatically roars to life. He stops, and the car rolls toward him slowly, coming to a stop right at his feet. He starts walking toward the road and the car follows slowly beside him. He stops, and so does the car. Tony and his toys.
Steve slides behind the wheel and is soon twisting and turning his way through upstate New York. Autumn has fallen over the state with burnt orange and red leaves littering the ground as he burns across the pavement. He makes a left turn and makes his way down the familiar gravel road, his body relaxing as soon as their hideaway breaks into his view. It’s an old farmhouse that they are still, slowly working on, but it’s coming along. If aliens could just quit invading the city, he’d have some time to finish that playroom. He rolls to a slow stop in front of his humble abode and swings the door open, placing his feet on the grass. He lowers his head into his hands, finally taking a moment for himself. He’s home. Where he belongs.
He moves like a cat through the front yard and up the stairs of the porch, his heart fluttering all the while. He’s ready to hear their little voices. He steps through the front door and is met with a deafening silence. It makes him stop dead in his tracks. There’s no Spongebob from the tv, no music from the stereo, no screaming or fighting or laughing or crying. His wife’s heavy accent usually rings through the house but there’s nothing. He exhales slowly as the hair on his arms stands erect. It doesn’t feel right. He closes the door slowly behind him and immediately takes to the stairs, climbing them quickly and quietly, his ears and eyes honed in on any slight change in his atmosphere.
He hits the top step and moves toward their bedroom door which is slightly ajar. His mouth drops open as his breath becomes heavy. He pushes the door with his hand slowly, the contents of his bedroom slowly being revealed to him. His closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath as his wife’s sleeping form comes into view. She’s nestled in the middle of their king sized bed, completely surrounded by their four curly headed girls. Arms and legs and hair are strewn about, intertwined with each other like vines as they slumber. He’s been out there too long this time. Silence shouldn’t scare him like this. He moves into the room and drops to his knees at the side of the bed, stretching his hand toward Okoye’s pregnant belly. Baby number five. Another girl. He rubs her belly, closing his eyes again as he tries to calm himself down. You’re home Steve. You can act like it.
He pulls away from his wife and brushes some curly, light brown disheveled hair out of their youngests’ face. He smiles softly as he watches her, her pretty little lips murmuring slightly as she inhales deeply. Sarah. After his mother. She’s just barely two but is a force to be reckoned with. She’s sweet but strong, caring but intensely diplomatic. She’s an old soul. Next in line is three year old Amara; curled around her mother, her arms around her neck and chest, her sweet face buried in her mother’s neck. She takes after Steve the most. Her eyes are big and wide, a light hazel in color. Her dark, long eyelashes splay against her caramel skin as she inhales and exhales with all the calmness a person can muster. She’s tall for her age, agile, confident but shy. She’s quiet and brooding, always wanting to just do the right thing.
Ch’Tea and Kisani are on the other side of Okoye, nestled within each other. Twins. Their first borns. He remembers it like it was just yesterday. Okoye had been in labor for almost two days. Any longer, the doctors warned, and they had to take them out via surgery. Okoye refused adamantly. They’ll come when they come. It’s up to them. They handed him his babies just as that beautiful Wakandan sunset broke through the sky. That feeling of having them, his babies, something he helped create, in his arms was indescribable and irreplaceable. He’s done so many things, incredible things, otherwise impossible things. He’s been to so many places, seen more than what the history books can describe, but nothing holds up to that moment. Not even punching Adolf Hitler. He’d never known love; a true love, a lasting, living, breathing love until he met Okoye, but, he never knew an unconditional love, an unprovoked love, until he held those babies in his hands. Hisbabies.
He stands, shedding out the of the last remnants of Captain America and tosses them to the floor. It’s time to be daddy. He shrugs into his sweatpants and moves to the other side of their large crowded bed, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. He pats Bingo’s head, the chihuahua/terrier mix that wandered out the woods and into their backyard a few months ago, as he too sleeps comfortably at the end of the bed. Steve climbs over the small bodies of Ch’Tea and Kisani, his weight dipping the mattress as it creaks and squeaks under the added pressure. He settles next to his wife and brushes his lips over her forehead, closing his eyes again as he lets his body relax. He pulls the twins into him, pressing their warm bodies to his as his exhaustion quickly catches up with him.
A hand slinks around his neck protectively and her long fingers dig into his blonde hair, “I think I like Dolores for the little one.”
Her voice is soft and sleepy, wafting over him like a warm breeze. He chuckles lightly, replacing his hand on her budding stomach, “It’s growing on you, huh?” He whispers back.
She shrugs, never opening her eyes as she continues to massage his head lightly. She rests her free hand on Amara’s arm that’s slung across her chest as a smile spreads on her lips, “Yeah. Dolores Azzuri Rogers.”
He’s quiet for a few moments, letting the name move around his brain before he starts to give in to the sleep, “It’s perfect.” He exhales.
Sarah begins to stir beside her mother, humming softly as her father’s voice breaks into her subconscious. She sits up quickly, rubbing at her eyes furiously before swiping her small, chubby hand across her forehead. She turns her head, her eyes still half closed as she begins to whine softly, “Mama…”
“Shhhh,” Steve coos softly, opening his eyes slightly as he tries to calm her, “It’s okay baby girl.”
“Daddy.” She reaches for him, extending her arms and flexing her fingers toward him, “Hol’ me daddy.”
Steve obliges, sitting up a little to pull her gently over her sleeping sister and mother. He finds a small space between himself, Okoye, and Ch’Tea and Kisani, and settles her down, draping his large arm over the three of them, “My sweet, sweet Sarah baby.” He whispers, tickling her stomach and smiling as her little giggle fills the quiet room, “You like the name Dolores?”
She nods sleepily, twisting her body to face her sleeping twin sisters and father, “You like, daddy?”
“I do.”
“You mama?”
Okoye nods softly, “I love it.”
“Then I like too. You pick middle yet?”
“Azzuri.” Okoye answers, “You know who that is?”
“Nuh uh.” The young girl answers as she lifts Steve’s hand in the air, intertwining her little fingers with his before tracing the lines on his palm.
“That is your uncle T’Challa’s grandfather.” Steve answers, pulling her hand toward his lips to kiss every last one of her chubby fingers, “He was a king.”
“And he was the fiercest Black Panther there ever was. He never lost a battle.” Okoye finishes, “Uncle T’Challa loved him dearly.”
Sarah brings her father’s hand to her own lips and plants a kiss in his palm, smiling as she’s rewarded with a chuckle from him. The young girl yawns sweetly and cuddles into her sisters, rubbing her hand against Steve’s skin as she drifts back into a peaceful sleep. Okoye turns her head toward his and plants a small kiss on the tip of his nose as best she can, “You’re home now, right?” She questions, her voice still soft, “No more avenging until after Dolores is here?”
“I’m all yours, doll.”
She smiles again. He returns a soft kiss on her cheek and nuzzles into Kisani’s hair as Ch’Tea wraps her small hand around his bicep. The parents drift off to sleep again, comfortable and warm, surrounded by their babies.
You love the fall. The first day of September is a holiday for you. You break out your cozy sweaters, you drink nothing but pumpkin spice lattes, and you pull out the Halloween decor. Your nails are painted black, your favorite tea is brewing on the stove, and your one eyed black cat Sam paws at the plastic bats hanging from the corner of your kitchen counter. You remove the baked chicken from the oven and return to your squash as the familiar sound of his bike wafts toward you. You can’t help but smile. You knows what’s coming.
You continue to cook as you hear him head through the front door, his keys jingling. His heavy footsteps move through your small but cute house and then stop once he moves into the kitchen. You glance over your shoulder at him, “Hi babe.”
“Hi yourself.” He says as hemoves toward you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.
You close your eyes as another smile spreads across your face. He pokes his nose into your curly hair and takes a deep breath, his eyes closing as he breathes you in. The two of you sway back and forth slowly to your own rhythm before he leans down and pecks your cheek with his pink lips. He opens his eyes again and moves them around the kitchen, taking in your themed decorations. He chuckles and it vibrates through you. You eye him as he moves around you, nodding his head slowly as he reaches out to touch the small pumpkin sitting the corner of the island. You bite your lip and try to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest as he moves to the windows, checking out the ghost and zombie window clings. He then moves to the kitchen table, a beautiful old table from the forties that he found and restored a few years back. He taps the small red button on the skeleton centerpiece and watches unenthusiastically as the skeleton begins to dance and sing.
You snort from the pent up laughter. He turns and leans up against the table, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug look on his face, “I thought we talked about this?”
“Oh? We talked about what, dear?” Your voice is light and sweet, like a fifties housewife.
He squints his eyes and you smile wider. You know exactly what you two talked about. You’ve had many, many, MANY conversations about it. You still really can’t believe you ended up with him after he admitted his fauxpaux. It really hurt your heart. Steve Rogers hates Halloween. The blasphemy of it! But even more, Steve Rogers, six foot two, two hundred and forty pound Captain America, eats, lives, and breathes Christmas. Not just Christmas, though, you could tolerate that somewhat. No, no, your husband, the greatest Super Soldier of all time, love Christmas music. Hymns, songs, carols… he loves it all. Sometimes, you feel like it’s just to spite you. He stands from his spot at the table and starts to move toward your record player.
You place your hand on your hip, a smile playing on your lips, “Steve.”
“Yes?” He answers sweetly, combing through his expansive collection.
“Don’t.” You warn. He looks at you over his shoulder before completely ignoring you and picking out his favorite album, “Steven Grant Rogers, I mean it!”
He plucks the round disk from the cover and places it gingerly into the player, picking up the needle. You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics, “Captain!”
He sets the needle down despite your objections and for a few seconds, just static can be heard. But once the static clears, Judy Garland’s voice lights up the kitchen as she belts out Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. You close your eyes in exacerbation, taking a deep breath, “Captain,” You say calmly.
“Yes dear?” He answers smugly.
“We talked about this.”
“Oh?”
You laugh wildly as he mocks you, “It’s too early for Christmas Carols!”
“So, let me get this straight. You can decorate the house in this morbid stuff two months early, but I can’t listen to Christmas music?”
You tap your foot, pretending to think over your answer, “Yes.”
It’s his turn to laugh, “That is not fair.”
“Life’s not fair buttercup.”
“I have to combat your ghoulish lust somehow! This is the only way I can do it.”
You fake offense, placing your hand to your chest as you lean back slightly. You look at each other as Judy croons in the background, a terrible mismatch for your skeletons, bats, zombies, and ghost decor. He quirks his eyebrow, that stupid smirk on his face as he believes he’s won something.
“It’s September.” You plead, “This is making my ears bleed.”
“This,” he motions around, “Makes my eyes bleed.”
You chuckle again, clicking your teeth as you return to stirring your pesto sauce, “I’m not taking it down.”
“Good.” He taunts, “I have plenty more Christmas records.”
“You know,” You start, motioning for him to start grabbing the plates and silverware, “You could at least have better taste and play Last Christmas by Wham.”
He stops reaching for the plates and looks back at you over his shoulder, his face scrunched, “Who?”
“Oh my god,” You giggle.
He moves around in the kitchen, grabbing plates, and cups, and silverware, humming rather loudly with Judy Garland. You shake your head and keep your eyes on him as he has the nerve to even dance a little. He grabs your wrist and spins you into his chest, smiling down on you as you laugh wildly again. You begin a sloppy foxtrot with him, pretty much just hanging onto him for dear life as he whisks you around. You throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he slows down.
“I’ve missed you baby.” He whispers.
“I’ve missed you Captain.”
Steve holds you to him as though if he lets you go, he’ll never see you again. He spins you away from him slowly but keeps a hold of your much smaller hand. He pulls you back into him and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips. You stare up into those big eyes of his as the Christmas Song begins playing from the record player. You can’t remember how many September nights the two of you have spent slow dancing to Christmas music in the past five years, but you’ll never tell him that these are some of your favorite nights of the year. Despite the music choice.
You and Steve don’t even eat. The two of you end up in your bedroom, as usual, making love. You’re wrapped up in your sheets and comforter as your unclothed husband moves back out into kitchen after growing an appetite. Steve picks up the needle from the now skipping record, his hands full of food. He flicks his eyes toward his music collection just as he’s about to move back toward the bedroom, but stops as something catches his eye.
“You will never guess what I found.”
You toss your eyes toward him, a lazy smile on your face as he moves back into sight, “What’s that?”
He sets down the slices of cheesecake and wine before moving over toward the radio in your room. He slides a CD into it and turns back toward you, cocking his eyebrow as Last Christmas by Wham starts to fill your bedroom. You fall into a fit of laughter again, covering your face with your hands. God, you love this man.
You wipe your hands on your towel and check the old clock that hangs on the opposite wall. It’s going on two twelve am. He’ll be here soon. You smile to yourself, tucking some loose hair behind your ear before you get busy by cleaning the counter. You check on the rowdy table in the back, teenagers all decked out in their finest after their prom. Their laughing and excitement makes you smile again, reminding you of your own youth and of the times where you had no responsibilities and no worries in sight. You then move to the old man on the other side of the diner, sipping on his tea, reading the paper, and munching on his crispy bacon. He’s a regular. He’s been coming here for as long as you’ve moonlighted as a waitress and for many more years before that.
You glance at the clock again; two twenty two. You move back behind the counter and start a fresh pot of coffee, just for him. Who eats at a diner at two in the morning in New York City? All your friends ask, wondering why, night after night, year after year, you stay at this little dump. Old men and over the hill superhero’s, that’s who. You always smile as your mind wanders to the mysterious blonde stranger with the long eyelashes. He usually comes by himself, but sometimes, he brings his long haired friend with him. You recognized the two instantly, who wouldn’t? Their faces were plastered all over the news papers after that deadly explosion last year at the UN. Bucky Barnes was public enemy number one. But when he walked in behind the stoic Steve Rogers, he was anything but. He was quiet and respectful as you took their orders, barely making eye contact with you, his voice low and soft.
Steve was the same, just a little more direct. He made square eye contact with you. His yes ma’am, no ma’ams’ were confident but gentle. He was just as sweet as pie; they both were. Contrary to the stories of them punching and kicking and shooting their way through a herd of nazis or being a world class assassin. Steve came pretty regularly after that, usually at the same time, and always ordered the same thing; a black coffee, strong. He’d sometimes pair it with a piece of apple pie or a bowl of vanilla ice cream but usually, it was just cup after cup of black coffee as he stared out the window or doodled in his small notebook. One night, and you’re not even sure why, you stopped by his table and thanked him.
“For what?” He asked softly as he looked up at you behind that blonde hair.
“Just for everything you do. For keeping us safe.”
The two of you didn’t speak another word that night. He got up and left after another hour or two, and when you went by his table to collect his empty coffee cup, there was a note scribbled on the back of the receipt, along with a forty dollar tip. No ma’am, thank you. You don’t know why he thanked you, you’re not off saving the world. But, unlike the rest, maybe it’s because you treat him like a person. Not a commodity or a celebrity. You just serve him his coffee and leave him be. You glance over at the clock again, just as the door chimes as it opens. You don’t even look up. You just turn and move toward the coffee pot, pulling it from its home and grab two cups. You motion toward Jose, the short order cook, and he nods back toward you, winking. You move toward his favorite table and place the two cups on the surface, pouring the steaming black nectar into the mug as he brushes by you to sit.
You slide into the seat of the booth opposite him, pouring your own cup before sitting the pot down. You pick your eyes up toward him for the first time to find him staring at you, like he usually does, a slight smile on his face.
“Hi.” You say softly and simply, letting out a breath through your nose that you weren’t aware you were holding.
“Hi.” He answers, his own smile growing.
He holds the hot mug in his hands as he watches you perform surgery on yours. You pull three sugars out of the small, black holder and shake them thoroughly before tearing off the tops and tipping them over the black liquid. You then move for the tiny creamers, plucking two from the small bowl that sits near the window and pour them one by one. You grab a spoon and being to stir, watching the coffee go from jet black to caramel brown. You finally bring your cup to your lips and he does the same, waiting. You glance up at each other and hold your gazes as you both take your first sip. You set your cups down at nearly the same time, the sound of the glassware connecting with the tabletop is comfortable and familiar.
The kids behind you burst into laughter again at something on one of their phones. You turn slightly, watching them over your shoulder as Steve does the same, “They look nice. Prom night?” He asks, taking another sip.
“I think so. They’ve been here since about midnight.”
“At least they’re not out getting into trouble.” You laugh lightly, “They’re not giving you any guff are they?”
You roll your eyes a little, playfully, “No. They’ve been better than most adults.”
His aptitude for justice and order is overwhelming at times but, it is so him. You like it. You turn back toward him and rest your elbows on the table, wrapping your hands around your warm cup. You bring it up to your mouth but you don’t drink right away. You just look over at him as he gazes out of the window, lost in thought. The steam from his black coffee rises slowly and moves into the air before dissolving before your eyes. You take a slow sip, humming slightly as the sugary drink settles into your stomach. You’re not sure what you two are doing. Every night, well, mostly every night, when he’s not off in space fighting aliens and outside threats, for the last six months, the two of you sit together at two thirty in the morning and drink coffee. Sometimes you two talk a lot, other times not so much. Tonight is the obviously the latter. You like him. You’re not exactly sure how you like him, or even really what liking him means for you. You think that maybe he likes you; why else would he venture out this early in the morning for a pot of your terrible coffee?
He turns toward back toward you and blinks. Another slow smile spreads across his lips as you sheepishly look away, unable to keep yourself from smiling in return. He lifts his cup back to his lips and takes another drink as the kids behind you continue to laugh and joke and chortle about. Little do you know how much Steve enjoys his late night coffee dates with you. He watches you, just like you watch him, when you’re not looking. He likes your calm spirit. He likes that sometimes you do all the talking, andexpect absolutely nothing from him. You pick up on his anxiousness and fill the void with the happenings of your day, knowing and understanding that sometimes he just needs to escape himself. He needs to get away from Captain America. He likes your curly hair, your long fingers, and how bite your lip when you smile. He likes you.
He’s not sure what the two of you are doing either, he’s got far less experience in this kind of thing than you. But, until the two of you figure it out, he’s more than happy to meet you at two in the morning for some of your terrible coffee. He reaches out toward you, laying his hand palm up on the table as he turns his gaze out toward the street. You don’t hesitate. You never do. You lay your much smaller hand into his and watch as his fingers curl around yours. You smile again. So does he. He then lifts his black coffee to his lips and takes a long drink, smiling softly to himself as he rubs your fingers.
Steve, or Captain as she likes to refer to him, doesn’t come to Wakanda much. T’Challa invites him often, even Bucky reaches out every now and again, but the Captain likes to keep his distance. There’s not much he can do without a bunch of hoopla surrounding him now. He knows how hard the Wakandans have worked to keep their privacy. He doesn’t want to ruin that. He’s come to love T’Challa and Shuri, the whole country really. He respects them too much to want to drag them and their beautiful people into the tabloids.
Hedoes visit though; sometimes for business, sometimes for pleasure. Sometimes a guy just wants to watch a sunset, you know? Having bullets fly over your head and taking spinning back kicks to the face isn’t as awesome as the media makes it seem. Sometimes you need to get away. But the Captain has a secret. The secret, you ask? The secret is that even when on business in Wakanda, it always ends in pleasure. Because of her. Nobody knows of course. They’re both professional, only speak to one another when it’s warranted, other than that, communication is next to nil. The Captain will sneak a few glances at her when he’s sure no one is looking. She stands stoic, her face calm but fierce as her King lays out his plan. The sun glints on the gold jewelry around her neck and makes the intricate patterns on her uniform glimmer. She takes a deep breath as she squints her eyes slightly, her lips pursed as T’Challa’s words resonate and sink in. She’s all business in these things.
Once the meeting is over, the Captain lingers with T’Challa and Shuri for a bit but manages to sneak off without being noticed. He waits in a dark corridor, running his hand through his newly grown out blonde locks before scratching at the beard on his chin. It’s itchy as fuck, but she likes it, so he keeps it. It’s that simple. He hears their spears slam against the ground in quick succession and then her voice spouting out their orders. He tucks back into the shadows as T’Challa and Shuri pass, Shuri being the only one to notice him lurking in the dark. She doesn’t speak or call to him, she just winks and shoots him a finger gun before skipping ahead of her idiot brother. His heart begins to beat faster and harder in his chest at the thought of finally getting her alone. He looks down at his feet, tapping his fingers against his leg as her voice grows louder as she approaches.
She’s still spouting off orders to another Dora, who listens intently before crossing her arms in an X across her chest and moving in the opposite direction. The Captain peaks out before he starts counting her steps as she nears. Five, four, three, two… He reaches out quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her in the shadows with him. She’s crushed up against his chest within a second and his lips are on hers like white on rice. She moans into his mouth as her hands creep up to his shoulders before snaking into his slicked back hair. He allows her to take a breath, feeling her breasts push into his chest as she inhales deeply; but because her mouth tastes so good, he steals the air from her before she can fully push it out. His mouth is back on hers as he wraps his large hands around her tiny little waist, pulling her into him as close as he can stand.
They finally break apart. They don’t speak. They just stare at each other as he towers over her, his mind racing but hers completely still. Before this, business was business and pleasure was pleasure for the General. But now? It’s all a little mixed up. She likes that. She likes that he makes her just a little mixed up.
“Captain,” Her voice slipping through her teeth like silk as she nods slightly toward him.
“General,” He returns softly.
Her dark eyes stare back into his blue ones for a minute more before she smirks softly. She turns and walks off, leaving the Captain to smile to himself before he heads back into the light to find Bucky. Night has fallen. The General and the Captain don’t see each other for the rest of the afternoon. She slips out of her towel as she moves from her bathroom into her sprawling bedroom. She stops abruptly as she hears the soft beep of her code being punched into the keypad. Her lips part slightly as the door beeps and then clicks. Her stomach tightens as the walls of her femininity constrict slightly. She swallows harshly before trying to clear the arousal out of her throat. She grabs her small circular container of cocoa butter and unscrews the cap just as his hands snake around her hips. She closes her eyes as he nuzzles into her neck and takes in a deep breath of her.
The Captain digs his fingers into the body butter before planting a soft kiss on her shoulder, “Here, let me.”
The Captain starts at her shoulders. He rubs his hands together, coating his palms and fingers with the body butter before spreading it along her broad shoulders. He pushes his hands along the top of her back before sliding them down to her shoulder blades. The General lets her head loll back some; her eyes close as her lips part slightly. W’Kabi could never. He presses his thumbs into her flesh and applies a steady pressure as he moves down the length of her spine, rubbing slow circles into her already radiant skin. He reaches her lower back and lets his fingers spread along her sides, keeping a hold of her as he presses deeper into her tight muscles. A slow smile spreads on her lips. She lets out a soft moan. Her hand snakes up into his long, dirty blonde tresses and she takes a firm grip, biting her bottom lip as he massages her.
He leans into her, bringing his lips down to meet her neck. The Captain isn’t a rough lover. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He doesn’t paw at her, he doesn’t devour her; he just simply kisses her. Each one is warm and slow. Each one is perfect. She turns slowly in his hands so that her big, brown eyes can scour his serious blue ones. She lays each one of her arms on his shoulders as her eyes dip down to his pretty, plump, pink lips. She’d never seen an American with such lips before. She lets out a breath as her eyes move around his boyish face. He looks tired. Both physically and emotionally. She palms the side of his face and he nuzzles into her touch, kissing her small palm quickly.
“Steve.”
Her voice is soft; much softer than what he’s used to hearing from her. They don’t really talk much when they’re together. They really don’t have to. He gets her, and she gets him, without having to explain it or put it into words. She just gets it. He, just gets it. He tightens his grip around her hips and pulls her a little closer to his body, “Okoye.”
His voice is always soft, no matter how tough he tries to sound. His gentle confidence is what makes him intimidating. His morals, his decency, is what makes him a tough guy. The fact that he just wants to do the right thing is what makes him a hero. But there’s something brewing. She can tell by looking at him now. She could feel it earlier when they were with T’Challa and Bucky, but neither would let her in on the secret. Not yet anyway. She doesn’t want to ruin the evening this early but the warrior in her can’t let it go.
“What’s going on?”
He drags his eyes from her thick lips to her eyes, “Nothing.”
His voice is so soft.
He’s lying, and she knows it. He knows she knows it. He doesn’t want to worry about that now- that’s not why he came here tonight. Tonight, he doesn’t want to be Captain America. He doesn’t want the looming threat of Thanos and the impending death of millions upon millions of people on his conscious. He just wants to sink into her like he has time and time before, loosing himself in her femininity, her touch, her void. He just wants to be Steve. He just wants her to be Okoye.
So, he doesn’t bring it up. He doesn’t mention Thanos, he doesn’t mention that within days they’ll be fighting for humanity on a massive scale. He just grabs her hands and walks her to the side of her big, comfortable bed. They stop once they reach the side and he pulls both of her hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. His lifts his eyes slowly, letting them roam along her face, from her eyes, to her lips, to her nose, down to her fingers intertwined with his. He likes looking at her. She’s so different from what he’s used to. He remembers running his fingers through blonde hair, gazing into blue eyes, pushing his mouth against thin lips, brushing his hands along fair, light skin. He didn’t know electricity existed between a man and a woman until he touched her radiant, dark skin. Until he kissed her full, plump lips. Until he lost himself in her deep, stormy, focused, brown eyes. He likes looking at her.
“Lay down?”
It’s more of a question than it is a statement. It’s soft. Airy. He’s still unsure of himself in this world. He’s a prisoner almost, doing his seventy-year sentence, suddenly thrust into a world that’s forgotten him; left him behind. She’s not hard on him like she is with everyone else. He needs some understanding, he needs some support while he tries to reconcile his existence with this world. She lays down. She takes a deep breath and expels it slowly as she throws an arm over her head. She eyes him as he moves around the bed to grab her cocoa butter once more. He’s still in his suit. She likes this one. It’s not flashy or bright like the first one. It matches his personality; dark and brooding, yet confident and masculine. Brave. That’s the epitome of him.
The Captain spreads more of the oily body butter in his palm and moves onto the bed, the mattress sinking down with his weight. He straddles her legs, starting at her flat stomach. He rubs in slow circles, tilting his head as he moisturizes her skin. He pushes his hands up along her ribs, his thumbs curving with the natural shape of her breasts. He shifts his eyes toward hers. He’s asking permission. It’s the gentleman in him. Her lips curve slightly, pulling at her cheeks, silently signing his permission slip. He gives his fingers the go ahead and they sweep over her tight, thick nipples. She bites her lip as her body shifts instinctively at the gentle touch of him. This is what she likes. She controls everything. All the time. She controls everyone around her. Every inch of everything is in its place and doesn’t move until she says so. But not now, not with him. She turns over the control to him, whether he knows or even recognizes it. He gets her to jump, to shiver, to moan; unexpectedly. That’s what she likes. The not knowing.
He massages her mountains gently, exploring the peaks of her nipples to the valley of her chest between her proud breasts. He skims his fingers down her stomach once more, his light touch tickling her sexually heightened skin. She jumps lightly and giggles. Picture it, Okoye, fierce warrior, leader, General, giggling. He’s so proud of himself. He pulls away from her quickly to reapply some body butter to his hands once more. He scoots down to the edge of the bed and pulls at her leg, lifting it slowly to place her foot on his chest. He leans in a little, blinking up at her as he places both palms on her thigh. He keeps his eyes on hers as he smooths the cocoa butter into her skin, running his hands along her. After mere minutes, her breath gets deep and ragged. Her mouth falls open as she sits up some, her hips shifting and moving with her desire as it rises. He lifts her foot and kisses it sweetly, taking a moment to admire the bright red polish that adorns her toes. The Captain slips his hand down the length of her leg but stops centimeters from her heat. He throws his eyes toward her again and her body responds instantly. The anticipation bubbles underneath her skin. Her hips roll with the anticipation, a sweet moan scrapes at the back of her throat with the anticipation. She wants him to touch her. She needs him to touch her.
“Steve,” she begs.
He hesitates still. Then, after a beat, or two or three, he loses his nerve and pushes his hand back up her leg. She slams her head and body back against the mattress, a frustrated groan pushing through her teeth. This is his only flaw. This isn’t the time to be polite, Captain. There’s no need to have manners here. She sits up quickly before she realizes what she’s doing. She pulls his face toward hers, crashing her lips to his almost in a frenzy. It takes him by surprise, but then again, she always does. He moans softly as her tongue splits his lips. She grabs his hand and pushes it down to her sex. She moans lightly, pushing the air out of her lungs and into his mouth in a hurry as his fingertips graze along her hot, silky folds. Her fingers stay with his as she moves them along her pearl, guiding him, nudging him to take control.
Her hot breath washes over his face as she pants, her hips rolling and bucking into his hand. She leans back, letting her hands hold her weight against the bed as her head falls in between her shoulders. It’s just him now, working her up into a ball of ecstasy as her fingers grip the white sheets underneath her. Her voice fills the quiet room as her moans grow louder, mixing with the sound of her wetness. That’s right. Captain America has her so wet, he can hear it. She sits up straight again, again pulling him to her as her fingers dig into his hair. She kisses him. She bites down on his bottom lip; hard enough to make him grunt. He likes that about her too; her aggression. On the battle field, in the war room, in the bedroom. It’s all a turn on.
His fingers slow against her. He reaches for her hand, pulling her fingers down toward his, replacing them completely. He slides off the bed slowly as she watches him, his eyes dipping away from her for just a second as he stands up again. He starts stripping away Captain America, article by article, until he’s left in his black boxer briefs. The General takes a deep breath at the sight of him. He advances toward her slowly, placing one knee, and then the other, on the mattress as he moves forward. He crawls over her as she lays back onto the bed. His blonde hair falls in his face as he hovers over her. He captures her lips in a strong, passionate kiss as her hands roam up his forearms to his biceps. They round his broad shoulders before venturing down his rippled back. He feels good. On top of her, inside of her, he just feels so good.
Her legs spread without coaxing, wrapping themselves around his waist, her heels pushing his hips down to hers. She pushes at the thin, black material of his boxer briefs with her toes as his lips move from her mouth to her neck, his teeth scraping at her skin before he bites down softly. He remembers what she likes, what she needs, and he wants to give it to her; just the way she wants it. The General manages to wrestle the last piece of clothing between them away from his hips and pushes them down his thighs and calves, springing him free. His manhood pushes against her thigh and a shiver rushes through her again. Anticipation; she loves it. Her stomach tightens at the mere thought of him sliding into her, spreading her. She moans. His tongue slips along her collar bone before he puckers his lips against her skin in another kiss on her body.
“Steveeee.”
It’s forceful; soft in nature but forceful in tone. She needs him. He pushes a hand underneath her and pulls her up from the mattress. He sits back on his knees, his hands on her hips, guiding her. She rests her hands on his shoulders, gripping at his flesh as he pushes at her opening. Her eyes close as she sinks down on him slowly. So, so, slowly. She lets out a breath. He tightens his grip on her hips, his fingers indenting her flesh as his breath hitches in his throat. He might be old, but this feeling never changes. It’s always the same, but different each time.
Her hands slide along his shoulders and wrap around his neck loosely, the tips of her fingers in his hair. She pulls up, then sinks down on him again, readjusting her hips as she stretches to his size. He fills her perfectly. She feels him everywhere; in her stomach, in her veins, in her mind even. It’s like, he was meant for her. Meant to please her and her alone. What an unlikely pair; funny how these things work out. She rides him slowly, letting her head roll back on her shoulders, her face toward the ceiling as she clings to his shoulders for stability. He pulls her closer, crushing his bare chest to hers as he peppers kisses along the side of her face and neck and shoulders. Her skin is his savior. Her skin is his home now. It’s his warmth, his happiness, his comfort. It keeps him sane. It keeps him fed.
They move slowly against each other, savoring the sweetness of their sex; the only solace either one of them can seem to find nowadays. She appreciates her gentle lover. He appreciates the beast that unfurls in her at times. He switches their position, flatting her back on the bed once more. His weight on top of her sinks her deeper into the mattress. She loves the heaviness of him. He continues to push into her body with his own, running his hand up her leg that curls around him again. He places his hands on either side of her face as he fucks her. It’s like she’s basking in a warm summer day. His eyes on her, his breath warming her skin as his own breath turns ragged and heavy. She watches as his eyes flutter and his dark eyelashes rest against his light skin. His moans and grunts are so delicious, she could eat them. They add and mix with her own lust and passion, turning her on more, wetting her more.
He fucks her with conviction. Spearing her deep and hard, each stroke having its own objective. He’s got her writhing now. Her feet press against the sheets, her toes flexing and then curling in as they slide up and down the mattress. She can feel her blood rushing through her veins as the fire in her stomach rises. Her body tightens and convulses around him, every penetration threatening to send her right over the edge of her desire. The Captain is close to his own end, his hips faltering slightly as heat rises in his face. His eyes close, his mouth opens, as he rests his forehead to hers. Her body jerks. She tenses as a loud mewl escapes her lungs. She digs her fingers into his back again as her body tightens around him for the final time. He slams into her one last time and she’s a goner. The pressure that had been building boils over and explodes through her, setting every fiber of her body on fire as her orgasm rips through her. It’s like a tsunami. Each wave larger and stronger, taller than the one before it. It totally levels her. Just like a small city on the edge of the vast, unforgiving ocean. The Captain is just along for the ride.
The General shudders as her body defies every sense of order and restraint it knows. Her feminine howls become muffled as he kisses her again. He gives up the fight moments later, grunting into her open mouth as he spills into her. They both breath heavy, gasping for air, huffing and puffing as they regain consciousness. She can’t help but smile, a few giggles erupting from her chest as she runs her long fingers up and down his spine. He rests his head on her chest and blinks slowly as he stares out of the large bay windows that adorn the walls of her apartment. The monotonous stroking of her fingers on his skin pulls him into a peace that he thought he’d never feel again. He blinks slowly out into the sky, full of bright stars and a moon that looks as though it was painted there. He blinks slowly. She stares up at the ceiling, her mind finally at peace but full of wild dreams and fantasies. She blinks slowly.
The Captain and the General are full of words and feelings that neither know exist in one another. Neither will speak them into existence for fear of what the other will say- or won’t say. The unlikely pair, remember? They’ll keep it that way. At least for tonight. They’ll just cherish the time they have together, knowing that he’ll be gone in a few days and that they won’t speak again until they do. They’ll keep it that way. At least until someone gains the courage to make it real. That’s not tonight.
Days pass. They’re on their way to a battle of epic proportions. The General stands tall between the Captain and her King. Wakanda’s greatest warriors stand behind them, awaiting the arrival of the very threat that brought the Captain to Wakanda in the first place. Alien vessels land in the distance. The General takes a deep breath as her mind stills. This is who they are. This is what they do. T’Challa eyes their opponents before beginning their battle scream.
“Yibombe! Yibombe! Yibombe!”
The General slams her spear against the ground as she chants. Nothing else in the moment matters. Or so she thought. Then, suddenly, fingers curl around hers, intertwining like vines. She turns her head and locks eyes with the Captain. His eyes move around her face before they reconnect with hers. He doesn’t have to say a word for her to hear what he’s saying. She smiles softly. A smile, or a ghost of a smile, tugs at the corners of his mouth and they both just know. If they make it out of this, things will be different. It’s real now. It’s in the air, swirling around them. He turns his head back toward the landing space ships before him. If they make it through this, things will be different between them.
He takes a breath. She blinks slowly. T’Challa crosses his arms over his chest, his mask materializing over his face. Thanos points their direction and both sides take off in a sprint, meeting one another in the middle. If they make it out of this, things will be different between the Captain and the General.
Took me long enough! Sorry, I had to work today and then when I got home, I took a nap, lmao. But anyway, here is another CapKoye one shot for the Captains’ birthday. I was gonna tag everybody, but it’s late and I’m tired and I have to get up at 3am for work tomorrow. I’ll tag everyone tomorrow :)
edit 7/5 - adding tags… let me know if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, lol, and if you’ve already liked/reblogged/sent me a note, sorry for tag :)
The Captain and the General have come to an agreement after quite a few long conversations about it. He loves Wakanda, he really does, but he’s a Brooklyn kid. The street hot dogs, the smell of trash wafting through the air, the incessant police sirens and honking cars; it’s home. She would sigh heavily at every mention of it, but those big blue-green eyes eventually won her over. So now, they spend their winters and springs in Wakanda, and their summers and autumns in Brooklyn. T’Challa teased her endlessly when she first approached the idea with him but assured her that Ayo was more than capable of handling her responsibilities while she’s away. He sent her off with his blessing, and a shitty smirk playing on his lips.
She hated it at first, being in America that is. There were only two things she would look forward to about her impending “vacation”; vanilla bean frappuccinos from Starbucks and today. This day has quickly become one of her favorites for a multitude of reasons, but today is especially special and she has big plans for them both. She wakes earlier than usual to get in her run and to get her liquid cocaine while he sleeps in. It sounds silly. Captain America sleeping in, but this is one of the only days that he obliges her. She holds tight to her green and white cup as she jogs up the six flights of stairs to his- their apartment. The door sticks a little, so she turns the knob and pushes her hip against it, bumping into it three or four times before it finally pops open.
