What I Like

He keeps on, his large hands around your foot as he rolls his knuckle into your arch. You let out an embarrassing noise and giggle as his tending turns ticklish. You sit up suddenly, cheeks burning as your thighs tingle. 

He looks at you surprised as you plant your palms and hold yourself out. You lift a hand and fix your glasses. You give a sheepish smile and wiggle your toes.

“Tickly,” you carefully raise your feet and bend your legs. He reluctantly lets you go as disappointment wrinkles in his forehead.

“Sorry,” he apologises.

“No, no, it's okay,” you turn straight, hanging your legs over the edge as you come to sit in the middle of the sofa, “I'm just sensitive.”

“Ah, and I can be a bit overbearing,” he adds.

You fold your hands in your lap and smile, your eyes drifting back to the television as you divert your attention to the cat fight over an over extravagant brunch. You feel his gaze, it has you paralysed. He sighs and stretches his arm over the back of the couch. You stay along the edge, pretending to be rapt in the on-screen drama.

His leg sways one way then the other. He blows out a long breath and the tension mingles with a sweltering heat. You wince as you feel a brush along your arm and glance over as he pushes the strap of your shirt back over your shoulder.

He smiles as you peek down at the fabric. You meet his gaze again as his fingertips linger on your skin, caressing in circles as he sits forward. You tilt your head, spellbound by his slow movement.

You gulp as you feel the tugging force between you. Like a magnet you can't help but lean in as he leans closer. Your eyes go wide as you realise what's about to happen. He's going to kiss you and you're not going to stop him.

His breath swathes around you as he grips your shoulder, hand crawling towards your neck. He brings his fingers under your chin and angles your head back as you shift towards him. Your noses brush against each other but your lips can't meet before a sudden bang draws you apart.

You sit back and cross your arms, cheeks burning as Bucky stands abruptly. He clears his throat as you shake your head and clamp your lips tight. That was too close.

“Yo,” Naomi hollers as she prances into the room, stopping short as Bucky distances himself from you. You're stunned by her arrival, her nonchalance unexpected given her storming out days before. “Huh,” she looks between you and her smile falls to a scowl, “am I interrupting?”

“Wasn't expecting you,” Bucky grits.

“Clearly,” she scoffs as you fold your hands and stare at her helplessly, “you move on fast.”

“It's not–” you begin but go unheard as Bucky speaks over you.

“And you sure are a good friend. Took me all day to clean that shit off her car,” he snarls, “so unless it's an apology, you won't talk to her.”

“Oh, this is so rich. Her?” Naomi blusters.

“It's about decency,” he insists, “why are you even here? Shouldn't you be with the worm?”

“I came back to check on her–”

“Sure,” Bucky crosses his arms and you watch his shoulders bulge, “you left her all alone yesterday and now you care so much, huh?”

“I'm sure you were right there with your little act to sweep her off your feet. You should be thanking me,” she accuses, “she's my friend. She just feels sorry for a pathetic old man like you.”

You stand up, standing just behind Bucky. He has no response, throwing up his hands as he blows between his lips. He waves her off dismissively.

“Whatever, Mimi, I'm the bad guy,” he mutters.

“It's not true,” you say as he turns away from her, “please– I… Nay,” you pass him as he drags his feet. You stop in front of Naomi, watching her expectantly, “I'm here because you ditched me. Last night… I said no. I said no and you violated me.”

She rolls her eyes, “we were having fun.” 

“It wasn't fun for me,” you retort.

She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head defiantly, “it was a kiss–”

“That it? No sorry?” You sputter, genuinely hurt.

“Well, uh, yeah,” her voice warbles, “I'm sorry, sure, I didn't think you'd freak out–”

“Sorry I freaked out? Nay,” you pout, “come on.”

She sighs and looks past you. You know he's still there but he won't look at her. You don't blame him. You're not the only she betrayed.

“You lied to me. About everything.”

“I had to–”

“Your parents never kicked you out, did they?” You interject. She winces, taken aback by your abruptness. “Tell me the truth.”

She drops her eyes and shrugs, “I couldn't stay–”

“Did they?” You ask quietly.

She clicks her tongue and stomps her heeled sandal, “no, okay? But I couldn't stay there. It doesn't change anything. Bucky's still an old creep–”

Bucky sniffs but says nothing. The tension roils around you as you're caught between them. You can't keep doing this. You have to choose. 

“Naomi,” Bucky rasps as he approaches, “I won't throw you out. I know you have no where else–”

You cross your arms as your spine goes rigid. She rolls her eyes again. How much has she had handed to her and spat back? She had somewhere to go, she has a dozen people who want her, but you're not one of them anymore.

“If she stays, I'm leaving,” you declare, “so better make up your mind, Nay.”

You sidestep her, nearly brushing against her as she lets out a pathetic noise. You don't look back as you charge across the room. You're done being lost, you'll go home and deal with that mess. You can't live by Naomi's rules anymore.

“You can't do this,” she whines, “you know he'll choose you.”

You don't listen. You scurry down the hall and into the guest room. You close the door and lean against it, breathless.

The scene unfurls in your mind. Only nights before, Naomi on top of Bucky, taunting him. She blames him but you heard it all. She was begging him and he said no.

You march to the nightstand and grab your bag. You don't have much to your name, only a car declaring you as scum. The thought of going back to your mom chills you but you could drive up to your dad's. He can't turn you away if you're already there, can he?

You shove your few possessions into the bag and whip open the door. You're an adult, you need to stop expecting others to take care of you. You'll just grab your phone and be gone.

As you come out, you find Bucky standing with his back to you. He leans on the wall, his arm bent as if he’s cradling his head. You peer around at the empty room.

“I'm going–”

“You too?” He asks softly.

“I think I should. I don't want to put her out–”

“She left,” he murmurs and lets out a hiss, “don't think she'll be back.”

“Why do you say that? Bucky, what's wrong?”

“If you're going, please just do it,” he begs.

His voice is barely more than a croak. Is he crying? You near him, leaning to the side as you try to get a glimpse of him. He shies away so you grab his arm. He lets you turn him as he drops his hand from his cheek.

There's a bright red welt on his cheek bone and a gash just below his eye. You gasp and drop your bag. He blinks his injured eye and turns his face away.

“What happened?” You squeak.

“She just… she was upset–”

“Naomi did this?” You gasp.

He chuckles then winces, “those shoes she wears, they always looked painful, just didn't think like that.”

“What? She hit you with her shoe?” You exclaim, searching around him.

“She's gone,” he assures you, “think she scared herself even.”

“Bucky,” you step closer, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” He gives a rocky laugh.

“I… it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have confronted her like that–”

“Not the first time,” he shakes his head, “definitely not your fault.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, please. Don’t let me keep you. You need anything? Gas money?”

You take a breath and close your eyes. You feel worse leaving him like this. He says it’s not your fault but you can’t help but feel it is.

“Is… is it okay if I stay?” You flutter your lashes open.

“Only if you want to,” he tries to smile and once more reaches to his cheek.

“Oh, you need to get some ice on that,” you say.

“I look that bad?”

“I mean it, it’s swelling already,” you bend to pick up your bag and stride past him. 

You enter the kitchen and plunk your bag on the counter as you pass. You open the freezer and search around. You find a bag of frozen veggies and snatch the cloth from across the oven handle. You wrap up the cold package and turn to face Bucky as he shuffles in.

“Here,” you cross to him and hold out the icy packet.

He thanks you as he takes it and leans on the island, pressing it to his cheek. He groans as he plants his elbow. You smile nervously, unsure what to do next.

“Do you need Advil or something? Can I get you anything?” You offer.

“Please, please, I’m good,” he says, “you’ve done more than enough.” You can only see his one eye as the other is hidden behind the iced veggies, “you’re too sweet. Really.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do,” you shrug.

“No, not anyone,” he assures you.

🏡

It’s hard to settle down for the night. The shadow of adrenaline follows you into the guest room and you try to close it out as the door clicks behind you. It’s the buzzing sensation of being overtired but slightly too addled to calm down.

You left Bucky in the living room. He seemed less than eager to turn in himself. Guilt nips at you but he insisted that you go to bed. It’s probably for the better. You assume he needs some time alone after a day like that.

You change into your pajamas and prop up your phone on the nightstand. You shut off the light and nestle into the fresh sheets, fragrant with fabric softener. Your nerves ease down as your eyes cling to the small screen glowing in the dark, the colours blurring together as your eyelids grow heavy.

You feel yourself sink into your subconscious. It’s a swirling black, turbulent but void. You feel like your swaying on a tide, rising and falling with a steady ebb and flow. From the shallowness that has you vaguely aware of the room to the deep sludge that makes your headache.

You wake with a start. You’re not sure what woke you but it’s completely black. Your phone doesn’t respond as you hit the home button. It’s dead.

You rub your eyes and yawn, feeling around for your glasses on the night table. You want to just roll over and fall back asleep but your bladder squeezes uncomfortably. You surrender and drag yourself from the bed.

You let yourself into the hall. The house is silent but a light glows still from down the hall. You cross the hall and dip into the bathroom. You take your time, your movement lazy with the dregs of your exhaustion.

You dry off your hands and go back into the hall. You stop and listen to the house. You hear something, a low, inconsistent noise. Something shuddering from the front room. You peek over at the guest  room door then back again.

It’s probably the wind or something. Bucky has to be asleep by now. You go into the front room and find it empty.

You go to turn off the light and let out a squeak of surprise. Bucky lays across the couch, his head propped against the armrest as he holds a whisky bottle against his chest.

“Hey, doll,” he slurs.

“Bucky,” you bat your lashes.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He babbles before covering his mouth, stifling a belch.

“Are you… okay?” You inch closer and see how his head lolls.

“Fine,” he drones, his eye purplish blue as a large bump swells on his cheek, “I’m just… having a midnight snack.”

He wiggles the bottle and you glance over at the time digitally displayed under the television. You frown. It’s almost three in the morning. You cautiously edge along the couch, drawn by the onus of your own regretful drunken shame.

“It’s late,” you say as you stop beside him, “how about you save the rest?”

You grab the neck of the bottle and he clings to it a moment before letting it go. You nearly slosh it on yourself. You set it on the table behind you and face him again.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, “I don’t drink… not alone.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “do you want some water?”

He closes his eyes, “please, I’m so embarrassed. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You know I won’t judge you. I was a bigger mess last night.”

He turns his head away from you. The difference between you and him is that you can’t just carry him off to his bed. You gently touch his arm and balance on the edge close to him, rubbing his shoulder.

“It’s okay to be sad about Naomi,” you coax.

He nods and keeps his face averted. You squeeze his arm, feeling the thick muscle of his bicep. The scent of alcohol ripples off of him.

“You still need to sleep though,” you say, “so why don’t you get up–”

He turns his head back suddenly and grabs your hand. There’s a desperate blaze behind his oceanic eyes. He clings to your tightly, “I’m not sad about her,” he garbles, “doll, I’m heartbroken…” he wiggles his nose as his eyes sparkle, “over you.”

“Bucky,” you murmur, “you're drunk.”

“I am,” he croons, “but I still feel the same. Doll, I only ever think of you.”

You sit there, speechless. You don’t know how to react. You want to chalk it up to whiskey and stress. You want to just get him to bed and pretend he never said it in the morning. Yet something else in you wants him more. You know you shouldn’t, but you do.

Even so, it can’t be like this.

“I… I like you, Bucky,” you slip your hand free of his and brush a shank of hair away from his forehead, “but I like you even more when you’re sober.”

“Mmmm,” he groans and drops his chin, “I’m sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you tap the tip of his nose, “just get up and go to bed. Sleep it off and we can talk in the morning.”

He nods and gulps thickly, “alright, doll. For you, I’ll do anything.”

He reaches up and braces the back of the couch. You stand as he pushes himself up, wobbling just slightly as he gets to his feet. You grab his arm, offering what little support you can. He smiles down at you and caresses your cheek as he sways.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” He asks.

She touches your side gently and gives another wheeze. You make yourself release her and pull back, beaming a bright smile at her. Your cheeks hurt and your eyes are glossy. You latch onto her hand and bounce on your heels.

“It’s cold out here, you should get inside,” Andy girds from behind you, “you’ll catch cold.”

“She’s fine,” Amber squeezes your hand back.

“Please, come in,” you tug on her, “do you…” your voice catches, “do you wanna help me cook?”

“Sure, bubbie,” she smiles, “I was planning on banana pudding. You still like that, right?”

You laugh, so giddy you feel delirious, “I love it! You know I’m so lost in the kitchen.”

“You’re a better cook than you think,” she assures you, a slight tremble in her voice.

You turn, keeping your grasp on her and find only a narrow space between Andy and the door frame. He glowers down at you, past you at Amber. You wince but keep going, pulling her inside. She shoulders past him and steps onto the mat.

“Brought some wine too,” Steve announces as he enters just behind her, “everything we need for the pudding and my own treat. That’s still a surprise.”

“Hurry up,” you beg Amber.

“Please,” she chuckles, “I can’t get my coat off with you hanging onto me.”

“Oh, sorry,” you retract your hand and clasp your wrist against your chest.

You stand back and watch her. Andy comes to stand beside you, a puff through his nostrils brush down to your sleeve. You peek up at him. He grimaces at Amber as Steve takes her coat to hang for her. Those two seem to get along.

“Let me just get this into the kitchen,” Steve picks up the box again, “let me guess, football?”

He struts into the front room without invitation. Andy doesn’t respond or budge. You follow Steve as Amber reclaims your hand, your arms swinging between you.

“This is a nice place,” she says as the floor groans and Andy finally follows suit. “Wow.”

“Thanks,” he grumbles. 

“It’s pretty big,” you admit. “The kitchen too.”

You pass through the archway as Steve puts the box on the counter. Your mess awaits you, a meal half-finished. You chew your lip as he smiles at you across the island. 

“Well, I’ll let you girls get caught up but if you need an extra pair of hands,” he wiggles his fingers at you, “I’m at your service.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kemp,” you chime and sense Amber peek over at you.

He finally leaves, his timbre following him into the front room as he calls to Andy. The TV continues its blare and swallows up their conversation. You face Amber.

You both stare speechless at each other. You don’t know where to start. It feels like forever and no time at all. You don’t realise until that moment how much your missed your sister.

“How do you know Dr. Kemp?” You’re the first to break.

“I… I got a phone call a few nights ago. You know, your mailing address is still mine,” she explains, “at first, I was not sure but I’d do anything to see you again. To find you.”

Your heart falls, “oh, Amb, I’m… sorry.”

She’s quiet as she looks down, crestfallen, “you’re an adult, you’re allowed to leave but… why did you have to go like that?”

“I’m sorry. I was afraid– No, it was mean. I’m sorry. I’m a bad person, Amb, I see that now.”

“Bad?” She lifts her eyes, “is that what he tells you?”

“Who?”

“Andrew,” she clucks, “that you’re a bad person.”

“N-no, no. But… I see things now that I didn’t before. Dr. Kemp is helping me fix myself.”

She sighs and glances away, “you’re not broken.” Her eyes drift back in your direction, “I’m glad you’re getting help. Steve seems like a smart man and I’m sorry I could never afford to get you what you need.”

“That’s not true. You did so much. I just took it all and gave nothing–”

“I never wanted anything but my sister,” she lets go of your hand and at once, you’re in another hug, this one has you trapped. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” She parts and holds you at arm’s length, “and happy, right?”

Your mouth falls open. Your eyes skitter around; the large kitchen shines around you as her voice reverberates in your head. Her amazement, her happiness, she always wants to believe the best of you. You don’t want to let her down again, you’ve hurt her enough.

“I am,” you lie, “Dr. Kemp helps and… I should show you my painting! It’s almost done.”

“That’s wonderful,” she smiles and looks over her shoulder, “but maybe we should figure out dinner first?”

🕊️

You pull on the hem of your skirt, happy for the shield of the apron as the dress rides up with each move. You set out buns on a platter, adding them to the dishes set to go out to the dining room. As you wiggle awkwardly against the short dress, you sense Amber watching you.

You give a sheepish smile as she wrinkles her brow funnily, “what even are you wearing?”

You look down, “you don’t like it?”

“It’s cute. Looks nice on you but… it isn’t you, is it?”

You bat your lashes, “I don’t know, what… erm, the dress is nice.”

“I like it. But… you don’t really wear dresses. Or didn’t”

“I know but I’m trying new things.”

“And that’s good. I guess,” she pushes her shoulders up, “I just don’t know the new you. I liked the old you.”

“Oh,” you murmur glumly.

“Old or new, you know I love you, bub,” she hums.

“Love you too,” you force a smile.

“Hey, girls,” Steve startles you as he struts through the door, “mmm-mm, it smells delicious in here. Anything I can help with?”

“Lots,” Amber answers dryly, “but we’ll settle for setting the table.”

“Oh, I’ll help,” you offer and grab a stack of plates. Steve meets you at the end of the counter, clutching the sides beside your hands, “um, here.”

You let him take them and turn to take the napkins and utensils waiting to be set out. He thanks you and turns on his heel. You notice how Amber watches him. She grins at his back. You’re happy she likes him as much as you.

You follow him into the dining room. He places the four plates out neatly as you put down a fork, knife, and spoon beside the first one. He looks up at you as he keeps his head inclined. His eyes are so bright and warm. You feel like it’s been ages since you’ve seen him. Just like everything else, it feels so unusual. As if those days spent in that bedroom were a whole other planet.

“Here, let me show you a trick,” he comes around, gathering up the utensils you just put out.

He pinches the corner of a napkin still in your hand and pulls it free. You let him and watch as he puts all three pieces of cutlery against the napkin, resting them against the table as he expertly rolls them up into a tidy pocket. He moves them beside the plate and drags his hand away.

“That’s pretty,” you say.

“Like you,” he says, “I really like that dress.”

“You do?” you look at him in the face. That act alone makes you want to melt. His eyes blaze back at you.

“You always look nice,” he says, “I thought… before I got here, I thought maybe you were mad at me.”

“Mad?” You frown.

“You haven’t been answering me so…”

“Um,” you suck in your lip as your eyes flit away from him, “I’ve been taking a break.”

“That’s a good idea. Blue light can really mess with your circadian rhythm and there’s nothing wrong with putting yourself first.”

“Okay, but I’m sorry. For not answering. I hope you’re not mad.”

“Not at all,” he assures you, “sweetheart,” he steps closer, “are you okay?”

“What?” You breathe.

“You look faint. Do you need to sit down?”

You shake your head and pout your lips. You can smell his cologne. It’s citrusy and rich. You could just bask in the scent. You resist the urge to bury your nose in his woolly sweater for a better sniff.

“I’m okay,” you sigh, “all that cooking.”

“Yeah, gets pretty hot standing in front of a stove,” he agrees and lays his hand on your shoulder, rubbing his thumb into it, “you’re not… you’re happy I brought Amber?”

You see the doubt in his eyes. You can’t believe it but you think he’s actually nervous. Does he really care so much about what you think?

“I’m so happy. Thank you,” you sway, nearly hugging him like you did Amber. You stop yourself and give a nervous giggle. “I really missed her.”

“I could tell. I… know you don’t like to talk about her but it’s Thanksgiving. It’s about family, right?”

“Yeah,” you smile and look down at your handful, jangling around the cutlery, “um, I guess… can you show me how to do that thing again?”

“Sure,” he puts his hands around yours and eases the cutler and napkins away. “So, you just put down the napkin,” he sets it all on the table and puts a napkin flat. He moves it diagonally so it’s a diamond and you watch his thick fingers move. Something about his hands makes you tingly, “then your cutlery,” he pushes up the bottom corner, “tuck and roll. Voila.”

He takes another napkin and places it in front of you, “you try,” he says as he hands you cutlery.

You shakily place the three pieces on the napkin. You're much slower than him, trying to get it perfect, pushing up the point and rolling tight. When you finish, you feel a tickle along your back.

“Good job, sweetie,” he leans in to whisper in your ear.

You smile as your cheeks round hotly, “thank you.”

“Go ahead, do the last one,” his voice grits as he flutters his fingers up your spine, “I’ll go get some glasses for the wine.”

🕊️

Amber sits at the seat next to you. Andy comes in with a sense of reluctance, hands in his pocket as his eyes focus dully on nothing. He looks almost pale as he shuffles along the opposite side of the table. He turns to face you and meets your gaze before glancing towards your sister.

His hand grips the chair and he slowly pulls it out, scraping the floor with the legs. He clears his  throat and sits, heaving a sigh as he peers up and down the table. Amber shifts beside you.

“Um, Andrew,” she begins tenderly. “I didn’t get a chance to say thank you.”

His eyes flick up as his brows arch, “thank you?”

“For having me. You have a lovely house and I’m so thankful to be able to spend today with my sister. I know… we didn’t get off to a great start so maybe this is our chance to start again.”

“Maybe,” he mutters and scans the table again, “where is the green bean casserole?”

Your eyes widen. You don’t remember making it. You’ve been so distracted with having Amber there that the details all blend together.

“Oh, my bad, I forgot to bring those out,” Amber stands, “be right back.”

She gets up and sweeps out of the room. You swallow as you watch Andy, waiting for him to look at you. Dreading what he’ll say.

His nostrils flare as his eyes pinpoint on you, “you’re happy to see your sister.”

It doesn’t really sound like a question but you nod. His forehead wrinkles as he runs his fingers around his mouth and narrows his eyes. He lets the tension drain from his features and sits back.

“So it’s a good thing I let her stay, huh, dove?” He says.

You swallow, “thank you, Andy.”

He smirks, tight-lipped as he drops his hand onto the armrest. He grips it and fixes his posture, his eyes returning to the chair next to you. Maybe he’d wanted to sit beside you.

“Here we are,” Amber returns and puts down the glass pan of beans, “well, I don’t think anyone will go hungry.”

Andy hums monotonously as she reclaims her chair. There’s a thick silence as you peer back and forth between them. Amber folds her hands on the table then sits back and pulls them over her stomach. She watches Andy, almost expectantly.

“Ah, can’t forget the wine,” Steve enters with a bottle in hand, “sorry to keep you waiting.”

Andy coughs and squares his shoulders. Steve approaches the empty chair next to your host and twists off the cap of the wine bottle. He reaches to you, beckoning for your glass. Amber takes it and hands it over. He pours it and she trades it for her own. 

“I know you’re more a beer connoisseur, Andy, but there’s lots to go around,” Steve offers.

“No thanks,” Andy sniffs, “still got some Stella.”

He reaches for the green bottle with the white label. You know when he drinks, it won’t be a happy night. Especially after the unexpected company. Despite his attempts at niceties, you can hear the razor edge in his tone.

“You snooze you lose,” Steve chimes as he sits and pours himself a glass. He lifts it by the stem, “cheers.”

You pull your glass close and look into the golden depths. You sniff it, it’s almost sweet but tickles your throat. You look over at Amber as she holds out her glass to clink. She never really drank and you didn’t either. But it’s a special occasion.

“Cheers,” she says.

“Dove,” Andy undercuts, “I don’t think you like wine, remember?”

“Huh?” Amber tilts her head towards him, “she can make up her own mind.”

“I’m not saying she can’t, I just wouldn’t want her to be sick. We haven’t even eaten. She shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach,” he argues.

“She’s about to eat,” Amber counters.

“It’s fine, Andy,” Steve intones, “it’s all just good fun. It’s Thanksgiving, live a little.”

He clinks his glass against Andy’s bottle then raises it again. You pick your glass up and tap it against Amber’s. You mimic her as she brings the brim to her lips and you drink in unison, slightly unsure of yourself. It’s not bad, almost sour but in a pleasant way.

Amber pulls the glass away and puts it down gently, “you like it, bub?”

“Um, yes, it’s… different,” you say as you examine the glass, the wine swishing as you twirl it, “I like it.” You take another taste, a bigger gulp than the last, “thank you, Dr. Kemp.”

“Yes, thank you, Steve,” Amber adds, “you’ve made this day so special.”

Steve smiles at the memory. You opened up to him even more. And now, you crossed a line. Your flirty banter and all the teasing ended in a night of passion. (According to you.) Steve would call it making love.

“So,” Steve clears his throat. He’s still not back in your good graces. (at least not completely.) You took it to heart that he ruined your fifth date fight in the park. 

The bench you sat on that day didn’t make it out alive. The same goes for the woman’s car, her apartment, and almost her dog too.

The last one was an accident! 

You tried to rip her handbag off her shoulder only to watch her dog fly off the roof. Of course, you saved the poor dog just in time. 

She didn’t get it back, though. Let’s say Carl got the dog he always wanted, and the woman is missing an accessory she loved to carry around in a handbag. 

“Goddess, are you still mad at me?” Steve repeats the same line he said a hundred times already. “Please forgive me for messing our date up.”

You glare at him. “That wasn’t a date, Captain Sassypants!”

“Our epic battle then,” he grins when you melt against his warm chest. “So, do you want me to make things up again?”

You quirk a brow and lift the silky sheet covering his lower half. “You really are a super-soldier, huh? I didn’t think it comes with a mechanic dick.”

Steve chuckles at your comment. “It’s not mechanic, doll.”

“I don’t know,” you move your hand to his crotch to feel him up. “Litte Captain Sassypants is hard as steel!”

He grabs your hand to place it on his chest. Steve wants to talk about a few things with you.

“You never told me why you became a villain,” he softly says while you are busy running your right hand over his naked chest. “Every infamous villain has a backstory. Don’t they?”

Crap. You’re not prepared to give him a good lie. The truth is, you had a huge crush on Steve and started to commit smaller crimes to get his attention. One thing led to another, and you ended up with a whole bunch of crazy minions, a huge mansion, and a name everyone fears.

"A villain is in control. I had enough of feeling helpless. All my life people walked all over me. I got treated badly because of my powers. I belonged nowhere. Not even Shield wanted me. So, I became a villain and embraced my powers and being different from others,” you say. 

It’s not a complete lie. Your life sucked, and you got used to being an outcast. Everyone overlooked you until you decided to impress a certain hero with your powers and the crimes you committed.

“I see,” Steve wraps one arm around your body to hold you close to his warm chest. “Every villain has a backstory then.”

“What about you?” You lift your head from his chest. “Aren't you tired of being the golden boy and perfect minion to Shield, the Avengers, and everyone else out there?" You rake your nails over his chest, causing Steve to shudder. “Don’t you want to break out and run away sometimes?”

“With you?” He smirks and looks at you in his arms. “Imagine, the mightiest villain and Captain America run off for their honeymoon.”

“Whoa, slow down!” You grunt. “I conquered your body to weaken your resistance and make sure my minions can wreak havoc while you are busy with other things I never agreed to marry you.”

“You will,” he shrugs. “I know you want to be a good person. You only need someone to help you see you’re not evil.”

“I enchanted you,” you hum to yourself. “I’m even mightier than I thought. I made Captain America lose his mind!”

“That you did.” Steve agrees to not lose the chance to hold you in his arms a little longer. 

You’re a good person, he just knows it. Every time you take care of one of your minions or save someone standing in the line of fire he sees your true self.

Sadly, no one before Steve saw the light in you. They tried to extinguish it or turn it into a raging fire.

“Good thing I live in close proximity to the Avengers Tower. This way, I can keep an eye on you, Captain.”

“You’re still mad at me,” he sighs deeply. “Doll, I told you this woman meant nothing to me. She didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Damn right,” you click your tongue. “I gave it to that bitch good. She will never try to get her greedy hands on someone else’s man-” You cough and try to play your slip-of-tongue cool. “I meant enemy.”

Steve poorly tries to hide the smirk creeping across his face. He nuzzles your hair and sighs again. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Goddess.”

“I kinda stole her poor dog. Little fart is much happier with Carl.”

“Little fart?”

“I didn’t name the dog,” you grumble. “Carl did.”

“You know stealing is illegal. Right?” Steve tuts, letting the hero and goody-in-two shoes show.

You chuckle darkly. “Oh, I did more than steal her dog. Do you want to arrest me now, Captain?” While you straddle his lap and place your hands on his chest, Steve watches you with adoration in his eyes. “Hey, stop looking like a love-sick puppy. We are not here to make love! You are my prisoner for the time being.”

“Oh, please don’t chain me up in the cold cell again,” he plays along. Steve knows you don’t like to give up control or admit feelings. Weakness is not an option. You had a hard life and won’t be weak ever again.

Well, maybe you allow yourself once in a while to be weak when you are in his arms. “If you are a good prisoner, you can stay here.”

“Phew, good.” Steve watches you lie back down on top of him. “I feared Tony must come to my rescue. You know him. He’ll call you my girlfriend again.”

“I dare him!” You exclaim loudly. “I’m your master and made you my willing slave. Nothing else.”

“I know, doll,” Steve runs his hand over your back. “I’ll tell him so. Promised.”

“Good. We don’t want your little friends to come over and believe they’ll get my cookies or shit. I won’t share my technology or minions with them.”

“Goddess, I need you to tell me what you did with that woman.” Steve already knows you wrecked her car and apartment.

“She had it coming,” you lift your head from his chest to grin at Steve. “I think she learned her lesson. No one touches my archenemy.”

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“Sorry, darling,” he pulls away breathlessly, “I can't help myself.”

“Just…” you can barely tell him to wait. Adrenaline courses through you, you really think it’s going to happen. This is real, someone really wants you.

You grasp your keys and pull them out, jingling them in victory as Jonathan steps back. You turn to shove them in the slot as his hand tickles up and down your back. A shiver rolls up your spine and radiates across your muscles. You open the door and he grabs it above your head, trailing you closely as you hurry inside.

You giggle, unable to withhold your brimming giddiness. You scurry to the stairs as he follows, tugging at you, touching you any chance he has, like a game of cat and mouse. You can’t get a few steps ahead before he’s on you again.

As you approach your door, he covers your hand with his. He takes the keys from you gently and unlocks the door himself. You look up at him as he nudges the door open, flush to your back as he urges you inside. You turn to face him as you enter, pulling him in by the lapels of his suit.

He stumbles with you, the keys hitting rhe floor in a jangle as he kicks the door shut right before he scoops you up. You squeak and let him, giving a little hop before wrapping your legs around him. Your lips lock onto each other again, your hands roving over his shoulders and around his head. Your fingers comb into his hair as you’re desperate for more. More of him. All of him.

He staggers against the wall, shielding you with his arm around you. He crushes you against the platter as he moans into your mouth. A fire scourges over you. Not just your own need, but his. You can feel how much he wants you. A wholly intoxicating sensation you’ve never known before.

He parts, leaning his forehead against yours, breathless as his blue colour your existence.

“Darling,” he keeps you aloft as he nuzzles your nose with his, “shall I go on?”

You bite your lip and nod, drawing him back to you with a hum. He chuckles as your mouths meet once more. He moves you away from the wall, continuing his slow but deliberate advance into your apartment.

He carries you blindly with him, grunting as his leg hits the end table, jostling you as he angles around, entwined in you fully. He sidles along the couch and lowers you onto the cushions. You land with a gasp, pulling back from him again.

You gaze up at him as he holds himself over you. You keep your legs around him, your hands feeling the tension in his neck. In that moment it's as if you're both trapped in the same cloud of disbelief. You flutter your lashes and look away shyly, the words crawling from your throat without permission.

“I never…” you swallow as your cheeks burn, “oh, gosh, I'm sorry, but I've never…” you rolls your eyes back against your embarrassed tears and laugh at yourself, “Jonathan…” you murmur, unable to force the confession out.

“I don't mind if you don't,” he slides his arm under your neck, holding himself up on his elbow as he tilts his body over yours, “we don't… tell me if it's too much, fawn, I will hear you.”

You flick your hot eyes and look at him. His irises blaze as he admires you, his fingers tracing along your cheek. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, “I am in no hurry,” he assures you before closing the distance.

You dissolve into him as he coaxes you easily. His hand tickles along your throat, thumb pressing just so to elicit a razing heat across your skin. He delves further, plucking open the front of your blouse.

You tremble and his lips drag along your cheek. You hold your breath as he bares your chest, button by button. His lips graze your ears as his timbre rises in a silty rasp, “is that alright?”

You can only let out a squeak and nod. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hand down his arm, “yes.”

He purrs and lets his fingers dance beneath the fabric, shyly exploring the thin pad of your bra, “and this?”

You hum and eke out another affirmation. He kisses your cheek and your jaw as he follows your encourage, gently cupping you as his thumb feels the tender flesh along the top of the cotton. You arch your back as your hand trails up his arm and you pull at the strained fabric of his jacket.

“What is it?” He nibbles your earlobe between words, “what do you want?”

“Off,” is all you can manage.

He laughs again. It isn't mocking or mighty, more so endearing. He slips his hand from beneath your shirt and lifts his shoulder. He raises himself on one elbow, awkwardly freeing one arm then leaning over to shed the other sleeve. His jacket drops to the floor as you eye his throat above his shirt collar.

“All of it?” He goads and you look him in the face as he winks.

Your breath escapes you as your lust mingles with horror at being caught, “your shirt…”

“As you wish,” he sits up on the edge of the couch, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it from his broad shoulders. He lets it fall with his jacket.

He comes to face you again, lowering himself onto his side next to you as you roll to meet him. He balances on the edge as you hover a hand before his chest, marveling at the muscle. You feel suddenly very inadequate.

“Are you sure?” You peer up at him.

He smiles and strokes his finger under your chin, “are you?”

You close your eyes and take a breath, giving permission not only to him but yourself, “yes, I'm sure.”

He presses his lips to yours and you quickly sink back into the moment. You feel the world shift as he subtly moves you over him, laying flat beneath you. Your stomach meets his bare skin as your shirt slumps down your arms, restraining you.

You move your legs to straddle him and sit up, irritated by the shirts flapping tails. You shrug it away and swipe it over the coffee table. As you look down at Jonathan, his fingertips brush up your stomach as his eyes drink you in.

That look! It drives you crazy. How can he look at you like that?

You let your deepest yearning get the best of you. The years of longing, of loneliness, of curiosity. You run your hands up his torso and back down, taking in every inch of lean muscle. His hands frame your hips as he watches your exploration.

“I must insist,” he sits up suddenly as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, “ladies first.”

Confusion sparks but can't catch as he lurches you suddenly onto your back. He's on you again, his mouth following his hand as he dotes on you; cheek, jaw, neck, chest, a steady but patient descent. Your stomach clenches as he lingers along your chest, his hand crawling beneath you, swiftly, almost expertly unhook your bra.

You gasp as he lifts his head. You let the straps slacken and nod at him. Yes, please, keep going. He doesn’t need more than that. He frees your arms one at a time from the straps and unveils your chest. You resist the urge to hide. He’s the first to see you.

He bows his head and goes back to his worship. That’s exactly what it feels like. As if he’s enshrined in some sacred mission. He kisses between your tits, fondling one side, then the other, pecking along the soft skin, teething, teasing. You feel the plucking as the pressure pinpoints between his lips, drawing on your nipples.

You look down at his head, bent as his shoulders hunch. The sight is electrifying. He purrs as he drags his lips lower, down your stomach, once more nipping and kissing along his path. He gets to the top of your pants and bites the fabric with a growl. He tilts his head to peek up at you.

You watch him. He picks open your fly as you lay enshrined in his delight. He eases the fabric down, sliding his hand beneath your ass as he urges your pants lower and lower. He sits on his heels as he untangles your ankles, knocking your flats off as he does.

He’s quickly back to his mission. He buries his face against your pelvis, nosing your cotton panties as he feels along the scalloped trim. You shiver as his breath dampens the fabric and seeps through to your skin.

“More?” He asks, the movement of his lips stealing a moan from you.

“Please,” you gulp and brace the back of the couch, fighting to rein in your nerves. As much as you want it, you’re scared. What if there’s something wrong with you? What if you don’t taste right?

He rolls down your panties, peppering kisses along your pelvis as he uncovers you. You squeeze your thighs together. He lets his fingers wander down your legs and prods with his thumbs, easing them apart as you surrender. He hums as his eyes fall and he pushes himself back on his knees, bending to hover his head above your pelvis.

He kisses the tuft of hair and you wince. He does it again and you let out another moan. A third time and he lets his tongue glide down between your folds. You squeal at the cool sensation. It’s so different and new and strange, but wonderful. What’s more, you feel yourself, wet and wanting for him, mingling with him as he delves into you.

A growl rolls up his throat and through you as he tastes you. His tongue swirls around your bud, setting a new fire alight. You arch your back further, gulping as your arm shoots down unthinkingly. You tug at his hair, clutching a silky shank as you beg him wordlessly.

He laps you up. Slowly at first, then faster, more fervently, as if he is just as desperate as you. He breathes into you as his fingers tickle up your thigh. Your other leg falls over the edge of the couch and you’re splayed completely. Your hand drifts down and you grip his shoulder as you curl and whine.

You puff out as a sudden wave of hot and cold swallows you up. Your body quakes as an orgasm unlike any you’ve had before sweeps you into a tide of spasms and twitches. Your voice drones out of you uncontrollably as you succumb to the sheer pleasure coursing from him into you.

He edges along your lips with his fingers, poking and rubbing, spreading your ecstasy around. He prods a single finger at your entrance, dipping in just a little, then pulling back. He repeats the motion, in and out, each time a little further till he's buried to his knuckle.

He turns his hand, tongue still diligent, matching his own pace as he finds another knot to untangle. You moan and pant, shaking as another climax crashes down, muscles vibrating and veins fiery. You drift into the afterglow, eyelids fluttering as your head swims with joy.

He reluctantly drags his hand away from you and raises himself on his knees. You watch him dreamily as he grins and bends over you again. He kisses you on the mouth, leaving your own flavour on your lips. He groans, his hips jerking as if not of his own volition. He cradles your cheek and rests his forehead on yours.

“More?” He repeats.

You whisper, “yes” and pull him to kiss you again. A long, needful kiss to say ‘never enough.’

When you part, he rises over you. He stands, eyes stuck to you as he works at unbuckling belt. Once it's undone, he seems to disemble. He fumbles with his fly and staggers as he tries to untangle his feet. He laughs at himself as he stops to untie his shoes and kick them off. He peels away his socks before finally stepping out of his rumples trousers.

You can't help but giggle too. The thought of him being just as excited, even as nervous, as you is comforting. He stands in only his briefs, bulging with expectation as he looks down his body. Wow.

He hooks his thumb under the elastic and pulls it out. You watch, spellbound as he rolls them down and he springs free unrestrained. He's unabashed by his own desire as he lets the fabric fall free.

He kicks away his briefs and comes closer. You're surprised as he takes your hand, moving it to his dick as it bobs above you. It's not so much lewd as it is assuring. He lets you feel him, guiding you up and down as he shudders in response. You squeeze and shift on the cushions.

You let him go and he kneels between your legs. He brings his hand to your pelvis, rubbing your cunt, spreading your lips, stoking a new flow. He angles his body down over yours, keeping his fingers along your folds.

He looks you in the eye as as he tilts his hips, pausing as you stare back wideyed. He kisses your lips and lingers just above them, “still sure?”

“Yes,” you answer a bit too quickly.

He moves closer and presses his tip along your folds. He drags himself up and down, wetting his head before stopping at your entrance. You hold your breath as he pushes, just a little. He does just as he did before, inching in then rearing back, then deeper, not to much. Patient but fervent.

He sinks into halfway. You groan at the strain in your walls. He presses his lips to your forehead as his voice rumbles in his throat. He rocks, further and further. You bend yournlegs around him, an arm draped behind his neck as you stretch the other down, touching his hip as he bottoms out.

You hiss out and he tries to pull back, “less?”

You shake your head and grit your teeth, reaching further to grope his ass, holding him deep even as tears prick. It's not pain, though theres a dull weight in your core, it's something else. Fear. Of losing this moment. Of never feeling this way again.

"Fuck, suck me princess, just-yeah just like that, sucking my cock so good babydoll, makin' me so hard"

You let out a muffled whine in response, still on your knees, tears streaking down your face while he holds your face, his thumbs swiping your wet cheeks. He bites his lip while thrusting his hips forward, pushing his length down your throat. You claw at his thighs, gagging and he lets out a delicious moan seeing your arousal starting to drip with how turned on you are.

"You're makin' me feel so good sugar, you know that? Y'have any idea how good my dick feels right now, how much cum there is in my balls?" He takes a a hand off his thigh and makes you cup his heavy sack, guiding you to squeeze him while you suck, the combined feeling making his eyes roll back.

"C'mon princess, suck my balls next, never had them sucked before-oh fuck-yeah-just like that baby shit-oh fuck feels so good-" His abs tense as he moans loudly again, jerking himself while you move to lap and suck at his sack, precum dribbling down, making a mess everywhere.

He might as well be addicted to the feeling. On more than one occasion, he's missed morning training because you decided to wake him up with head and he loses himself to you, not giving a shit who is waiting for him at the door.

He hears the knocks, hears them calling for him and he'll let them know what's keeping him so busy.

"Buck, you coming-?"

"Oh Fuck yes! Suck my cock, yes, yes, yes, gonna cum, drink it up baby, c'mon, swallow, fuck yes, m'gonna cum again-don't stop princess"

"Well...technically he's coming" Sam snorted, hearing every filthy word the super soldier spewed out while Steve bit back a smirk, "I think your best friend is busy"

Steve couldn't help the proud smile that made it's way onto his face, shaking his head, quickly walking away before round two started.

Tony occasionally goes as far as cheering outside of Bucky's bedroom, especially when the steady thump of the headboard banging against the wall can be heard from downstairs.

No point hiding anything from Tony, especially when he's the one who had to install the xl mirror in the bedroom Bucky requested and god knows he didn't ask for it because he's into fashion.

He's gonna put you in positions that are unholy as it gets. He wants to watch every detail. He's gonna throw your legs all the way back till your knees hit the bed. He wants to watch his cock stretch you open. He's gonna experimentally flick that little button between your legs, using it as his own personal play toy, rubbing and pinching it to his delight just to hear you squeal.

“That’s-that’s your spot, huh princess-take my fat cock baby, doin' so good, moaning for me" He growls, watching he way you take his cock. His favorite thing to do is lock eyes with you in the mirror while your on your hands and knees watching you watch him while he fucks your brains out. Your breasts bounce with each thrust and he doesn't know what he loves to watch more. God forbid your eyes roll back, he spanks you till you focus again.

"Look at me when you take my cock baby, look at how pretty you are when you're all stretched open"

"Sargent-I-fuck-can't-

"Yeah, can't even speak huh, that how good your pussy feels baby? You wanna cum? Want me to make you cum?"

"Please!" You wail and he grabs your hair and pulls you till your back is flush against his chest. He forces your thighs apart as wide as they'll go before grabbing his phone and positioning it under, getting a perfect video of his cock pumping you full of cum while his fingers reach around to rub your swollen button.

"Go on and cum baby, cum with me, together, make your Sargent proud princess, make me dick feel good, fuck, gonna fill you till it spills out, mother fucker-FUCKK" He moans loudly with you, letting your convulsing pussy milk him dry, his veins throbbing as he shoots ropes of cum into you. The end of the video is blurry after all his cum drips onto the screen but it makes it so much filthier.

He's going to record all of this along with taking pictures, always getting you to spread your legs for him, laying on his bed after he's poured load after load into you. I want him to be the dirtiest fuck, looking at all the pictures and videos he's taken, jerking himself off afterwards when you're away for a mission. He can't have you but he's gonna take what he can get. He loves how you moan and scream, how cock drunk you get. A part of him almost feels like a pervert, tugging at his dick like a horny teenager but he can't keep his hands off when he thinks of you.

He's fucking feral even when he jerks off. Legs spread wide apart, no clothes on, back arched off the bed, fucking his hips up into his fist. He doesn't care if you walk in anymore. He was shy at first but now he just smirks while continuing to lazily touch himself, using his own spend to palm himself, the other arm propped behind his head. He knows you love the sight, planting his feet onto the bed to give you a better view while you take your clothes off-

You grip your hip as you stand by the crib, watching her sleep. At last. It’s only because her little body couldn’t writhe or cry anymore that she slumbers. All her energy is spent and yours is much the same.

You hear footsteps on the stairs. You tense and face the door as it opens. Andy enters and you put a finger to your lips. He carefully eases the door into the frame and gives a guilty smile. It’s strange how he can act like this is all perfectly normal. To him, you guess, it is.

“Hey, honey,” he whispers, “how is she?”

“Sleeping,” you mouth as you keep your vigil at cribside.

He comes close and you stand straight, staying between him and your child. His eyes rove down your body as he nears. He reaches to fondle your tits as he approaches and you hold back a hiss. You’re raw and worn out from him. Reviled by his touch.

“Well, it’s mommy time,” he winks. You give him a look, wary but curious.

He lets his hands wander down your stomach and he takes your hand. He moves slowly and softly through the space. It’s terrifying how the noise dampens in this place. The walls are no doubt padded to keep it all inside.

He takes you towards the bathroom nestled behind the kitchen. He nudges you in ahead of him. As he goes to close the door, you reach to catch it. He turns with an arched brow.

“So I can hear her,” you explain.

“More likely to wake her up. Let her sleep,” he tugs on the door but you don’t budge.

“Just in case,” you plea and step closer, “you want…” you swallow as you repress a shudder, “our daughter to be safe, right?”

He sighs, his hand sliding down the door and away. His eyes meet yours, foggy and blue as he tilts his head.

“I want mommy to give daddy some of her love,” he grits out.

“Alright,” you coax and reach to touch his arm, caressing his sleeve, “I can do that, Andy, that’s okay.”

“I know it’s okay. It’s the least I deserve, isn’t it?”

You swallow. You could’ve never imagined him like this. Not your friendly neighbour on his bouncing jogs. His gleaming eyes are dulled and he’s a shell of the suburban saviour you knew. He never was that, you should’ve known better.

“Of course, of course,” you step closer and bring your hand up his shoulder, tamping down every ounce of disgust, “you’ve made such a nice home for us. I see that, Andy, and I’m so thankful for it.”

You rub his chest with both hands and feel him relax. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He trails his fingers up your arms and covers your hands with his. He quivers out a brittle exhale as his eyes flash open.

“Honey,” he purrs and brings your hands up to his face, guiding you to touch his beard as he nuzzles like a needy dog, “call me ‘honey’, baby.”

“Honey,” you utter as you succumb to him.

He hums and leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You stand locked like that as he lets your hands fall away. He touches your jaw, then your neck, then squeezes your tender chest. You whimper as you feel a meagre trickle slip free.

“Get clean up,” he rasps, his body rigid and trembling, “I’ll be waiting.”

He releases you, backing up as you stare stunned and confused. He turns and stalks out, his imposing figure burned into your vision. You hold your breath and listen. Soft steps pacing but no other disturbance. You don’t matter, it’s Luna. She’s sleeping, she needs her sleep.

You peer around and stop to stare at the tub. You can’t have the door wide open or the noise will wake your daughter. You shut it but leave a crack between the frame. You twist the faucet on and undress.

You move mechanically. You don’t feel. Don’t ever do that.

You ease into the water. The warmth would be immaculate in another world. You look down at your chapped nipples as the hot water stings them. You push your head back and reach for the soap.

You wash quickly, not letting the tub fill all the way as you do. You move around, trying not to slosh or splash too much. The scent of the soap is familiar but less than comforting. The same you use at home. You noticed he even had the sensitive brand you get for Luna’s dainty skin.

You get out as the tub drains and pat yourself dry with the towel. You’re not stupid. You know what’s going on. What he expects. Still, as you come out wrapped in cotton, you’re shocked to find Andy naked and waiting.

He sprawls on the bed, heels by the corners of the mattress, as his hand bobs up and down his length. He’s hard, twitching with each stroke as he lets out deep growls. You look from him to the crib, mortified. 

You pull the curtain around the little nursery to block it out. It’s not ideal but it’ll have to do. Andy’s timbre rumbles in his chest.

“I’ve been waiting,” he warns.

You close your eyes and wet your lips as you steady yourself. You nod and let go of the towel. You refuse to look down at your body. Maybe he’ll see the truth and he won’t want you. The stretch marks, the dough, the distortion of flesh.

He hums and you slowly turn, shuffling your feet under you. You face him and can’t help but cross your arm over your stomach, the other over your pendulous chest. You hear the breath escape him sharply. You wince as he props himself up on his elbows, letting his dick flop up against his stomach.

Right, now he sees you completely. The only other person to witness the ruin. His eyes stick to you as you stare at the wall.

“Come here,” he breathes.

You cross to the bed, staring blindly past it. As you near, he reaches for your hand and guides you down beside him. He rolls onto his side, an arm hook under you as his fingers crawl up and down your figure. He pulls your arm from across your belly as you try to hide.

“Andy… honey, please, can I put a shirt on–”

“Why?” He asks as question he wants no answer to.

He urges you onto your back and gropes your chest rough. Once more he bends to suckle and teeth at you. You whine as the plucking and tugging needles deep into your chest. His hand grazes along your stomach, underlining each rippled line across your skin, creeping down to dip between your legs.

He pokes at your thighs until they fall apart. You force yourself to go limp. Just let him do what he wants. It’s just a body, a body that’s been used before.

He plays with you, flicking impatiently at your clit as he continues to nuzzle and nibble your tits. The blank ceiling fills your sight. You try not to be there. You force away any thought that tries to break through.

He lifts himself over you, the bed shifting with his weight, and he pushes your legs wide with his knees. He rubs his tip against your cunt. Your clench but relax. No, no, he won’t take long. You can do this. You have to do this.

He angles himself down and prods at your entrance. He enters you in a single thrust. You swallow a shriek. You’re dry. Your body won’t listen to your head. He bends over you, planting an elbow to hover above. He hooks his arm under your neck and tilts his hips.

“I missed you,” he grunts as he rocks against your resistance.

Your eyes burn as tears threaten to break through. Don’t do that. You puff out your lips, trying to ignore the dry agony of his thrusts.

“Missed you too,” you eke out, bracing his bicep as he keeps an even rhythm.

“Mmm,” he purrs and bows to kiss you.

His tongue invades your mouth as he almost gags you. His spit smears around your mouth as he devours you sloppily, moaning and groaning as the bed rocks with him. You feel his muscle bulge and picks up his pace.

You let out tiny noises, nothing sultry, as he drags his mouth from yours. He buries his head next to yours, puffing into the pillow as he gives in to his rising need. He ruts into you, your walls on fire as his pelvis cracks into yours. You can’t help but get louder as the pain grows unbearable.

Your whines turn shrill but you don’t feel yourself screaming. You touch your throat but it’s not you bawling. Luna! She’s awake. She’s crying. She needs you.

You push on Andy’s chest, “please, she’s awake–”

“Almost done,” he sneers into the crook of your neck, his back hunched as he hammers into you.

“Get– Andy, she needs me–”

“I need you,” he snaps and bites down on the muscle beside your neck. 

You cry out as he pinches your flesh between his teeth, pounding harder and harder as he chases his release. You stretch your arm across the bed, searching for any escape. Luna’s wailing grows louder and louder, making you dizzy as flesh slaps in echoes around the room.

“Andy, stop! Get off of me!”

He brings his hand up to your neck and squeezes until your voice catches and your breath whistles tightly. He chokes your protests quiet and fucks you into the mattress, crushing you beneath him as he quakes and roars, adding to the tempest of noise around you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps and you feel him cum inside you, a scalding flood that sickens you.

He slows, collapsing as he’s paralysed in his afterglow. You’re trapped under him, lip trembling as you’re strangled by the desperate cries of your daughter. Get off, get off, get off.

He slips out, a slimy flow gushing out of you, and he pushes himself to flop onto his back. He gulps and heaves, droning as he tickles his own stomach and hums. Your vision speckles as you gulp down air, blinking through your dizziness. Luna shrieks as you cough and touch your throbbing throat.

You found yourself unnervingly warm as you awoke. Unsure of your surroundings. You began to panic as you were unable to move, until you felt two solid arms wrapped around you. Suddenly it all came back to you, just as it had when you had landed back on the train. It was all real. The arms that were wrapped around you were Steve’s.

You angled yourself in his embrace to get a better look at his face. He was still unconscious. Even though he was out, the strength with which he held you was unwavering. You lifted your hand to his face and quietly whispered his name, hoping to ease him back into consciousness. His lashes twitched as you gently called to him before finally opening. His piercing blue eyes looked at you questioningly for a moment before realization crossed his face.

Slowly he got to his feet, before helping you to stand as well. “All good?” Was all he asked as he looked you over. You nodded, but before you could open your mouth to respond he was continuing. “C’mon, we gotta get back to the Quinjet, I’ll send someone else in to the retrieve the data, we need to get you back to the compound.”

With a hand on you at all times, like he was afraid you were going to shatter, he guided you out of the facility and back to the Quinjet in what felt like no time. Rather than let you sit in the back, Steve pushed you to sit in the co-pilots seat as he readied the jet for take off. It was then that you realized you must be in shock.

“I thought it wasn’t real…” You trailed off as you stared out the window. Steve reached over to you seat and put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I know, we’ll get back and get it figured out, I promise.” He was smiling at you earnestly. A look that up until now you had never been on the receiving end of. You kind of got now why all the girls swooned when Steve gave them that look.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurted before you could stop yourself. Sure you and Steve and shared a moment back in that abandoned hospital, but that didn’t mean you were friends now.

He gave you a befuddled look, “What do you mean?”

“Steve, let’s be honest, you’ve never really liked me. And you’ve definitely never been happy that I was brought onto the team. So what gives, why are you being so nice to me?” You were squinting at him suspiciously as you spoke. You figured this was a reason to get you off the team, maybe that was why he was being nice.

Steve sighed and stared out of the windshield of the jet for a few moments before putting it in autopilot and turning his seat to face you. “I wasn’t hard on you because I didn’t like you. I was hard on you because I was worried. All of us, in some way, shape or form on the team are enhanced. You’re not, not even a little bit. I didn’t want to put you in a situation that could get you hurt, or killed because I’m so used to working with people who are enhanced. I was scared.” He paused for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how best to articulate his thoughts.

You wanted to yell, or make a snide remark, but you found yourself agreeing with him again. Steve makes all the calls for all the missions the team goes on at the end of the day. If something were to happen because you were in a situation that was over your head, you knew you would be reluctant to ask for help. “I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

He laughed and looked confused, “You didn’t?”

“I did, I actually called you worse, but most of those were in my head, so I’m not counting them.” You gave him a strained smile, before your face fell as realization dawned on you. “Oh God, if everything on the train is real. And everything here is real - what is happening to me? Steve, I’ve been going there since I was a teen!”

He shushed you and leaned from his seat into your space. He pulled you into a tight hug, and you buried your face in his neck. He slowly rocked you as he ran his hands up and down your back. You had a flash of a memory of Curtis doing the same thing.

Your dizzy spells were getting more and more frequent. You had to find a way to make them stop. You stumbled through the tail end looking for peace and quiet. You needed the buzzing in your head to stop.

You tripped over one of the toys the children had left laying around. As you stumbled, you felt strong arms circle you from behind, pulling you back against a broad chest. You sighed at the warmth and crisp scent of Curtis, who you knew by feel and scent alone now. “Sweetheart, you alright?”

You turned in his arms to face him, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. You know how it is down here, finally get to sleep and this stupid train hits something.” Curtis laughed at your lie.

“Yeah, somethings you can just never used to huh?” He pulled you over to his cubby, rooting around. You weren’t sure what he was looking for until he pulled back triumphant. “I’m not gonna tell you what I had to do to get this.” He winked before presenting you with a thick scarf. He wrapped it around your neck with surprising tenderness. As you inhaled you caught a strong whiff of Curtis and sighed.

Tears welling in your eyes you said, “Thank you Curtis! You don’t have to do this.”

His smile was genuine as he shushed you and pulled you back into his chest, slowly rocking and running his hands up and down your back.

You were rocked back to the present by the sound of the Quinjet landing, finding yourself still snugly wrapped in Steve’s arms. “You think you can walk?”

You nodded before heading down the ramp to solid ground. “C’mon, let’s go find Tony and Banner - I called ahead to make sure they were ready for us.” He started to lead the way, but stopped short when he noticed you weren’t following him. He turned back to you to give you a quizzical look before holding his hand out towards you. Your eyes shot to his and searched. What you were looking for you weren’t quite sure, but Steve just stared back at you earnestly.

You sighed and took his hand, following him deeper into the Compound. You knew what was going to happen next. Experiments. You had heard of them at SHIELD. Any new recruits who showed signs of enhancement were experimented on before any field assignments. You shuddered as you thought of what Dr. Banner and Tony would come up with. As if sensing your thoughts, Steve let his thumb brush against the back of your hand. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to figure out what is going on, okay?”

You could feel your whole body tense as you got closer to the lab, and saw the rest of the Avengers talking. You stopped short and pulled on Steve’s hand. “Steve, I’m scared.” You couldn’t look him in the eye as you made your declaration, instead settling on his chin.

“I know, but I’m more scared of what could happen to you if we don’t figure out why this is happening.” He lifted his free hand up to your chin and tilted your face up to look at him showing you that his concern was genuine, then pulled you into the lab.

You looked around at the team, but were unable to meet any of their eyes. Natasha was immediately out of her seat to come and pull you into a hug. She whispered to you in a reassuring voice, but your head was buzzing so loudly you couldn't make out a word she said. It was Steve’s voice that pulled you out of your reverie.

“She’s in shock. I gave you guys the short version on the way back, but I figured you should hear it all from both of us.” He stood with his arms crossed across his broad chest, straining the material of his suit. From there you both explained in detail what had happened on the mission. How everything had gone sideways, right from the start.

“How long has this been going on?” Dr. Banner was kind, but you could tell he was intensely interested in what was happening to you. That didn’t bode well for the experimentation.

“I’m not sure.” You weren’t lying, the earliest memory you had of the train was in your teens, but how long had your dreams been you traveling to a far off land. “The first time I remember the train was my early teens. That’s when I met Curtis. He saved me, and so many other people. He made sure that we all got on, even if we didn’t have a ticket. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe seventeen? But he has always taken care of us. Before then? I don’t know, you guys have to remember I thought these were dreams, I didn’t think any of it was really happening.”

Tony wasn’t looking at you, but was frantically working on something on his tablet. Dr. Banner nodded, “We should probably assume you’ve been doing this most, if not all of your life.”

“How do we make it stop?” Steve’s question caught you off guard, and you immediately responded.

“We can’t make it stop yet!” You were furious at him for even suggesting it. However, his expression told you that this was the wrong response. It was like a switch flipped in your head and you finally felt back to yourself. “Captain, we can’t just leave those people, especially now that we know they need help. Curtis is strong, he’s a good leader, but we can help them in their rebellion against the front, just think of how many lives we would be able to save if we help.”

Steve rolled his shoulders and looked away. He didn’t agree. It was Natasha who responded, “I think we all agree that we should help those who need it, but realistically what are we supposed to do to help people in what, another dimension?”

You could hear the murmurs of agreements of the other Avengers. “So none of you will help? You’re going to let innocent people die?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that echoed around the room. No one would make eye contact with you. You huffed, “Fine. Then we will not be looking into this until the rebellion is done, I’ll bench myself.” Your last comment was made in Steve’s direction.

Tony finally looked up from his tablet and stared directly at you. “This is something you feel like you need to do?” It was posed as a question, but really you could tell he was confirming more than anything.

You stared straight into his eyes as you responded, “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.”

Tony nodded, “Alright kids, shows over. We’ll reconvene after ‘The Rebellion’ although you definitely need a better name for that.”

You smiled at Tony and turned to make your way back to your quarters. Deciding on a nice long bath before bed, so you could unwind the mess you had made today. You weren’t even sure how to file the mission report with Steve at this point.

***

Back in the lab the Avengers spoke in your absence.

“We can’t just let her keep doing this. You guys didn’t see her there. Something about that place makes her weak, and not just emotionally. She could barely hold herself up and she wants to help fight in a rebellion?” Steve was pacing as he expounded on all the reasons why your idea was terrible. He was just glad you weren’t here to hear him, he knew you would hate the way he was speaking about you now.

“What do you want to do Cap? Tie her to the lab? There’s no way that’s going to work. She’s a free person, she benched herself, outside of Avenging there’s not much else we can do to stop her.” Tony was surprising everyone, including himself, by being the voice of reason.

Natasha came up with the only solid plan that would appease everyone, except maybe you. “Then maybe we bench someone else to stay with her. That way we know that whether here or there, she’s safe.”

To the shock of all the Avengers in the room Steve volunteered himself, “I’ve already been there. She said that the last time she was there she was being held by Curtis the same as how I caught her, except he didn’t come back with her. I’m wondering if the serum is allowing me to go back and forth with her.”

Natasha looked worried, but the others agreed, so she kept her mouth shut. She definitely wasn’t going to be the one to tell you that it was her idea that had Captain America chained to your side 24/7 now.

It’s just after noon as you set a fresh batch of cookies into the display and Cole wonders about the mystery intruder. Would they come here? Where did they break into? Why? Maybe he should look into a better security system.

Peter is more interested than you are. You continue to transfer the oatmeal raisin, one by one with the tongs, as soft instrumental flows from the new bluetooth speaker Cole installed to add to the atmosphere. It just makes you sleep, you suppose that would drive peoples’ caffeine addiction.

As Peter goes to grab his apron, Cole goes to replace the dark roast filter as a new batch is needed. You stop setting out the cookies to ring through a new customer. The steady flow helps keep you from thinking too much. 

You hand over the medium roast and a muffin and watch the man still yammering to his Airpod leave. You turn back as there’s a sudden clamour and Cole gasps as he tears open a preloaded filter and the grinds explode over him. You really wish he would stick to the back office.

“Oh my,” you grab a tea towel as he coughs, turning to you with coffee all over his face. You can’t help but laugh through your irritation.

“What’s going on?” Peter comes out as he ties his apron. “Oh sh–” he guffaws as he points at Cole, “bruh.”

You tut and shake your head. You take the shredded package from Cole and toss it. You turn back to him and dust the grounds off his face with the towel, letting them fall to the floor.

“Get the broom, Peter,” you say as Cole’s blue eyes fixate on you. He keeps his hands slightly out as he watches you. His gaze bores into you hotly, as if he can’t look away. “Well, I think maybe it’s about time you go back and get some of your own work done,” you reproach.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t… I’m so clumsy,” he smiles, his cheeks rosy as you wipe away more of the coffee, moving down his neck to his collar and sweeping away even more.

“Well, you’re going to smell delicious,” you kid as you use your hand to dust off his shirt.

He steps closer, surprising you. More of the grounds litter onto the floor as Peter shuffles in the storage room. Cole seems to lean in but you’re quickly distracted as the cafe door swings open. You step back and clutch the cloth as you face the new customer.

“I shoulda fucking guessed it,” Lloyd lets the door fall open behind him, “I knew you were lying.”

Shit. You’re speechless as he struts across the room, stopping just on the other side of the counter, “kinda fucking funny you’d lie about working at a cafe but I guess I know why.”

Lloyd glares at Cole who stares back in confusion. “Uh, hello, can we get you something–”

“You can shut your mouth. This a conversation between me and her,” Lloyd shoos him with his fingers, “really, this jag off? You’re over here pushing coffee–”

“Please, just go, we can talk after I’m done–”

“No, no, I want the truth. I wanna know who I got in my home? Is it Mimi or a slut?”

“Woah, hey, hey,” Cole steps closer to you, palms out pleadingly, “hey, guy, calm down. You can’t talk to her like that.”

“And who the fuck are you? Shut the fuck up,” Lloyd snarls.

“Wait, wait,” Cole nudges you slightly behind him, “I know you– you broke my windshield.”

“Huh,” Lloyd scoffs and smirks, “that was you? In hindsight, I shoulda done more.”

“What the…” you mutter.

“Look, you’re going to have to leave if you’re not getting anything. And if you’re going to continue to harass my employee, we won’t serve you. So please, let’s be polite–”

“Polite? Polite?” Lloyd blusters, laughing like a hyena, “I’ll show you fucking polite.”

Lloyd grabs the tip jar before either of you can react. He whips it at Cole, hitting him in the jaw, before launching himself across the counter. You cry out as Cole recoils, thrown off balance as Lloyd latches onto his collar. They hit the espresso machine and grunt, rolling around against the counters and shelves as they struggle with each other.

“Peter!” You shout terrified as you stay back, trying not to get caught up in the entangled men. “Peter, call the police–”

Lloyd grunts as he head snaps back. Cole shakes out his fist as he detaches from the other man, and cocks his arm, setting his feet. He grits his teeth as Lloyd wipes the blood away from his nose and brings his own fists up.

“Wanna fuck around?” Lloyd snarls.

“Lloyd, stop!” You shout.

“I got farmer strength, buddy, don’t make me use it,” Cole warns. It’s a bit lame but you don’t think he could be mean if he tried.

“Woah, woah,” Peter rushes in, getting between them with the broom, pointing the handle at Lloyd, “who the hell is Mr. Caterpillar?”

“Stay out of this, boy,” Lloyd warns as he grabs the broom.

“No, no,” you exclaim and grab the broom, twisting it as you insert yourself between Lloyd and the others. Peter lets go and you jab the handle up, sending Lloyd’s hand into his jaw. He releases the broom as you hold it up defensively. “Leave now. Leave me alone. What I do is none of your business. That’s what you said. So go.”

He huffs and juts his chin out, cradling it as his nostrils flare. He looks behind you at Cole and Peter. His eyes search the room like a wolf searching for prey. He curls his lip and spits blood onto the floor.

“You’re fucking right we’re going to talk later,” he steps closer and you sense both the men behind you do the same, “keep up the hard work, Mimi.”

He enunciates the last two syllables venomously. He turns and grabs the milk frother, shoving it to the ground in a crash. You bring the broom horizontal to stop Peter and Cole as they try to charge him. You shake your head and whisper, stop.

Lloyd shoulders past you and hops back over the counter, his sole slipping on the tile and nearly sending him onto his ass. He growls in frustration and stomps to the door. He stops to look back at you, pointing at Cole then turns his hand to flip him off.

“Just you wait, bud, I got a spare tire iron with your fucking name on it.”

He rips open the door and storms out. You take a breath, shaking as you lower the broom. You hang your head and feel your insides crumple.

“I’m sorry, Cole,” you turn to the men, “and Peter, I’m sorry to you too. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

“Who was that guy?” Peter asks.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cole undercuts, “you did nothing wrong. That wasn’t… your ex? The cop?”

"With a mustache like that, he definitely reads cop," Peter snorts.

You shake your head. You don’t even know how to explain it. You can barely think.

“Hey, hey,” Cole takes the broom gently from you, “hey, you’re shaking like crazy. Why don’t you sit down?”

Peter looks at the store front then back to you, “I should follow that douche–”

“Please,” you gulp as you let Cole take you by the arm and gently lead you away, “please, I don’t–” your voice cracks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

His arm tightens around your neck as he drags you backward. He presses his cheek to the side of your head and hisses, "shhhh, I don't want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want, honey." You whimper as your feet bounce off the ground, "even though you hurt me. Over and over." He rasps as he hauls you with him, "I only wanted to give you everything. If you let me, I still can."

He swings you around and wrangles you behind his house. Your panic surges as your eyes prick hotly. You shudder and try to calm yourself. Luna. You have to get Luna.

You let your arms go limp, taking careful steps to alleviate the constraint around your neck. He fumbles to open the door and turns you inside. He slams it behind him, closing you inside the impenetrable silence of his home.

He marches you forward. You don't resist. He takes you to another door, this one you've never been past. To be fair, when you were there, you didn't stay long enough to explore. There's a thick deadbolt on the outside.

"Andy," you force out your tight windpipe, "please, don't hurt me--"

"Honey, I won't. We got a daughter to take care of," he opens the door to a carpeted staircase.

"I know, I know," you shakily reach back to touch his hip, "let me go, I'll go down but I could fall if you don't."

"I won't let you," he insists and lurches you forward.

He keeps his arm around your neck, walking you awkwardly down each step, following the sharp angle of the staircase. The basement is made up like an apartment of its own. It's finished with carpet and paint on the walls, changing colours to delineate the space. The kitchen in one corner, a living space in another, a queen bed against the wall, and the corner where the crib looks eerily similar to the nursery in Lloyd's house. You stop and look around, horrified.

Luna whines. You pull against Andy without thinking. You have to control yourself. You repress the urge to claw and fight him.

"Andy," you bring your hands up to your throbbing chest, "I need to feed her. She's hungry... I hurt so bad."

He doesn't let you go right away. He exhales and slowly drops his arm, grazing your hip as he does. You restrain yourself from running across the room. You move cautiously towards the crib. She's there, squirming and squalling for you.

You lift Luna and hush her as you hold her close. She's bawling in fear, you can't let her feel your own. You pull up your shirt and put her to your nipple, angling her to latch. You sigh and turn, sitting on the rocking footrest in front of the glider. You coo and pet her head as she feeds greedily.

"I'm sorry. I tried to feed her," Andy says as he shuts the door at the bottom of the stairs, "she wouldn't take the formula."

"It's okay, she's fussy," you assure him, trying not to think of the surreal circumstance. Just be calm. "Very hungry."

He nods and comes closer, his cheeks kissed red from the bitter winter. He looms across from you, watching as Luna suckles noisily. His gaze weighs on you as you find his eyes fixed on your chest. You don't let the shiver roll up your spine.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

You try not to react. He's asking if you're okay and he's brought you down to his weird bunker? A place like this doesn't just appear overnight.

You gulp, "I'm just happy to have her back. Thank you, Andy."

He smiles and looks you in the face, "I'll keep you safe. Both of you."

You force a smile of your own. There's something off. You see it then in his glassy eyes, as if he's hypnotised.

"Do you have any tea?" You ask softly, "I'm cold."

He flinches and puts his hand on his chest. He clears his throat, "yes, honey, I'll get you some. You like green or--"

"It's late, chamomile?"

"Of course."

He finally backs up and you breathe through your nose as you look down at your daughter. You listen to him moving around the kitchenette. You hug Luna tighter. It's going to be okay, baby girl. I'll make sure of it.

You switch sides as the plucking turns painful. Andy sets down a steaming cup. You could throw it back in his face but you know better. That will only make him angry. You're not fast or strong enough to beat him. You're not getting out tonight.

"Thank you," you feel Luna ease in her hold, "she's getting sleepy."

He stands over you, turning to face you. His hand tickles over your shoulder and he leans it to caress Luna's head as she closes her eyes. You stiffen, livid as he dares to touch your child. You swallow it down as his hand wanders further and he squeezes your other tit. You wince.

"She's so beautiful, just like her mommy," he lets go and gets down to kneel beside you. He leans his head against your shoulder and watches Luna.

"Thank you," you breathe, roll your eyes back against a new wave of tears.

You never expected this, so how could anyone else? No one will come for you, you have to find your own way out.

🍑

Luna fusses and rouses you from your trance. Not sleep, just terror. The arm slung around your middle has you paralysed but it cannot keep you from your child. Slowly, you move Andy's arm away from you and sit up. He grumbles as you cross to the crib and lift your daughter, rocking her.

"What're you doing?" He rasps in his morning grit.

"Shhh, she might go back to sleep," you whisper, "she's just not used to her new... home."

He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks at you from under sleepy lashes. He yawns and sits up, fluffing the pillow up behind his back. He stretches his arm towards you, waving you closer, "I'll take her."

"Maybe in a bit, let me just calm her down," you cradle Luna tighter.

"I can do it," he insists, "let me hold our daughter."

His tone deepens, hard as iron. Our daughter? You can't let him hurt her. Or you, you're the only one there to keep her safe.

"Just be gentle," you gird as you come around the bed, "she'll be hungry if she stays awake."

"I know how to hold a baby," he retorts as he sits forward to take her. You carefully put her in his arms, reluctant to back away.

She wriggles as he gazes down at her. You twiddle your fingers, standing close, your chest tight and pounding.

"I go her," he insists, "can you get some coffee on, honey?"

You stare at him, blinking, then glance down at your daughter. "Sure."

You back away, inching to the kitchenette as you can't help but peek back over and over. He coos at her, his voice soft and higher than usual. It makes you want to throttle him even more. Luna feels much the same as her babbles turn to uncomfortable grunts.

You find a bag of coffee and open the machine in the corner. You quickly load it up as your daughter's voice tugs at you. You hear Andy growl.

"She won't stay still," he huffs.

"Like I said, she's probably hungry."

You go back to them and offer to take her. He hands her over but not without muttering. You pull up the same sweater you've been in since the previous morning. You get Luna latched and yipe as you feel a pinch on your other nipple. Andy tweaks through the rumbled fabric and pushes it up.

"Ow," you try to back up but he catches you by the hip.

You keep Luna in place as he turns his legs over the side of the bed and guides you close. You can't resist as you try not to jostle your child. He bares your other tit and in a second, his lips seal around your nipple. You cry out in shock, almost smacking his head as he suckles.

"What are you doing?" You exclaim.

"Mmmm," he hums and pops his mouth off, "you taste good."

"My milk is for her, Andy," you block him from trying again, pushing a hand against his chin as you keep your other arm under Luna. "Don't--"

He pulls his head back and reaches up to grab your tit, squeezing it until your yelp. It hurts so bad. A trickle leaks out as Luna's mouth detaches and she gurgles.

"Andy, you're going to hurt her," you snap.

He only kneads you harder. You whimper and your legs buckle.

"You have more than enough," he insists and slides forward, nibbling on your tender nipple. You whine and move Luna away from him, disgusted by what he's doing.

"Andy, please, I don't-- she needs to feed first--"

You get up and toss your things in your purse, keys, phone, whathaveyou. You'll have coffee at work, may as well get it while you're there. You creep through the large house without turning on any lights, stopping by the door to wiggle into your boots and lifting your jacket from the hook. Lloyd likes to sleep in but you won't chance an early morning encounter.

You go out into the brisk autumn air and toss your purse and coat into the passenger seat as you drop into the driver's side. You adjust the backrest and see the shuddered lights from the second floor. You don't notice any movement or shadows on the other side.

You reverse out and drive without urgency. You'll be well on time, you would just rather be out of that house. You roll the steering wheel with your thumb as you yawn. A glare of headlights flashes in the rearview but don't make the light behind you. They fade as you cruise along, street by street, until you get to the cafe. You park by a meter and use the app to pay for the day.

Cole greets you, approaching at the same time as you. You stand back and wait for him to unlock the door. He holds it for you and follows you inside.

"You okay?" He asks as he turns the latch back into place, "you're quiet."

"Late night," you resist shrugging, not wanting to trigger that tedious nerve.

"Tell me about it," he scoffs as you take out the till to balance and he goes about checking the machines. "Ma has this mouse that won't leave her pantry alone. I spent hours trying to catch the thing. She doesn't wanna kill it so..."

"Aw, that's kinda cute, and so nice of you."

"Yeah, dad won't go along with it. He says if he sees the thing, he'll be sure to stomp it," he clucks his tongue, "I don't even know what to do with it if I do catch it."

"Hmm, yeah, I wouldn't know," you hum as you break a roll of dimes.

"Anyways, work, I got everything expensed out. Do you want reimbursement on your first pay or I can cut you a check today?" He offers as he comes to stand beside you.

"Oh, well, it's whatever. I can wait until payday if it's easier."

He nods and smiles at you, fingers tapping on the counter as he watches you. He's close. Very close. You can smell his pine cologne and vague scent of sawdust. "You say I'm nice? I don't think I've met someone like you in... well, ever. You make everything so easy."

"Uh, really?" You utter skeptically. You'd argue the opposite, everything in your life seems too complicated.

"Yeah, you're so giving. You know, I can tell you take care of everyone else before yourself. It's amazing but not good for you. If you need a day off..."

"No, no, don't worry about me," you open the drawer on the register and shove the till inside, "really, I can manage. I'm used to twenty kids running circles around me."

"Ah, yeah, how was that? You must like kids. Or... did you quit? Was it too much?"

His curiosity bristles on your scalp. He's just being nice and yet, it's a bit too much. Or maybe you're just overwhelmed by everything else. He might be right, you might need a day. But time off means more time in Lloyd's domain.

"No, I loved it. Every day was so fun and you see the kids learning and growing and they just, there's never a problem bigger than a toy they don't want to share, you know?" You can't help but smile, "they called me mimi..." the word dangles, slightly tainted as you hear Lloyd in your head, "and they always wanted hugs."

"Wow, sure beats steaming milk 'til you're red in the face," he drawls, "I wanna be selfish and beg you not to leave us but seems like you loved it."

"Yeah, well, I'll see if I get any calls," you swallow and turn to check the opening list laminated and hung behind the baked goods display.

A knock hammers at the door and startles you both. You look at Cole as he furrows his brow back at you. He tilts his head.

"Peter's closing today..." he utters.

You glance at the door and see a man you don't recognise on the other side. Cole shows his palm, gesturing you to stay as he squeezes past you and goes around the other side of the counter. He crosses to the door and taps his watch at the man.

"We're closed, got half an hour--"

The impatient customer keeps his jaw set and reaches under his dark jacket. He pulls something out and slaps it against the glass. Cole growls and puts his head back. He turns his hands out helplessly and unlocks the door. You spy the man's golden badge as he steps in without a word.

"What's going on?" Cole steps back, hooking his thumbs in his jeans.

"Break-in up the street," the man says, "we're just checking things out..."

"Oh? A break-in?" Cole gulps.

"Really?" You murmur.

The man looks at you, his blue eyes glinting. He nods and faces Cole again, "Detective Fowler."

Cole juts out his chin in thought before he replies, "a detective? Isn't that a bit much for a break-in?"

"Some details can't be divulged," Fowler insists.

"Of course," Cole agrees, "we only just got here like ten minutes ago and we haven't seen anything."

The detective nods as he paces around, considering every inch, soles scuffing across the floor. He nears the counter across from you and looks you up and down. His cheek dimples just slightly.

"Do I know you?" He asks. Your brows pop up and you sputter. No, you don't.

He hums and pokes his tongue inside his cheek, "wait," he snaps his finger, "you know Johnny Storm. Young guy on the beat."

"Um," you look away, "yeah, he's my ex."

"Ah shit, sorry, I didn't know. Don't know the kid much but run into him time to time," he slides his hand into his pocket, "well, guess you two wouldn't know much. If you do see anything..." He slips a card out of his pocket and holds it out to you, "you can call me."

He backs up and turns on his heel. He nods to Cole as he struts back to the door, opening it himself as he leaves you both in nervous silence. Cole grumbles and crosses his arms. You look at him as he scowls.

"Seemed real interested in you," he intones, "I didn't know your ex was a cop."

You give a small moan as the most beautiful sight plays in your subconscious mind. Moaning out loud. Your dream Steve was being so soft, and you hadn’t realized it was something you craved. His lips kissing over your body, and you hate how hard and long holding out on him was going to be. Whimpering out his name, and hoping you never had to wake up.

His touch becomes more harsh, “Steve,” you whine, wishing he would go back to his softer smoother motions. It was too early, and you didn’t want that kind touch.

“Steve! Ow!” Screaming out loud. You wake up to him pinching both your nipples in a vice grip. “What the hell?” You scream as you sit up in bed. Smacking at both his hands until he removes them from your throbbing tits. “That hurt!”

“Unless you let me fuck you, you cannot be making all that fucking noise in your goddamn sleep! Fuck, Dovey. I’m fucking hard again. Can you not suck my cock?”

“No! You,” you look down at your chest, and rub on your bruising tits. “You pinched me!”

“And your naked ass was rubbing on my cock, while you were making those fucking noises. Dove, I can’t stand this. Let me fuck you!”

“No.”

“Please. Dovey, baby, please let your Captain fuck you.”

“Do I have your heart?” You ask, cocking up your eyebrow. Steve’s face tenses up, and you can’t help but smirk. He was avoiding answering. “Then no,” you turn away from him, and lay back down. You are going to go back to sleep, and enjoy the softer him.

“Fucking hell, Dovey. This isn’t even fair!”

“You branded my neck without my consent. Now you can wait on my cunt with my consent,” Steve growls, jumping out of the bed, and starts stomping to the bathroom. “Where are you going?”

“To fuck my fist again!”

“Steve!”

“No!” He spins on his heels, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare use your whiney voice. I can’t stand this. I can’t function properly. Because your fine ass sleeps in the bed every fucking night naked. And then I wake up to you doing that thing with your ass on me, and making those fucking noises, and it isn’t fair. Fine, I branded you, so brand me.”

You stare at him, your eyes unblinking, but shake your head no. “Fuck yes. Brand me, and then you’ll get over this bullshit.”

“You think this is the only thing I’m pissed off about?”

“Well, goddammit, Dove, you sure the fuck like to bring it up all the fucking time!”

“You didn’t give me a fucking choice, Steven. You held me down while I begged you not to do it. So…”

“I’ll let you do it,” wrapping your arms around you, your eyes start to well up with tears. He didn’t get it. “Yes, baby, I’ll let you choose the method, and what you want. I know I’m tattooed pretty much everywhere, but — fuck,” he whispers, moving closer to you, and wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“Dovey, baby, please. I want us to move past this. Just tell me what it is I need to do, and I will do it.”

“You will do anything just to fuck me though.”

“I’ll do anything to make you mine. Whatever you want,” he is damn near pouting like a child. Begging for anything that would make you give up the one thing that was keeping you in control.

“I want you to give me your…”

“I can’t, so don’t ask me. I want to protect you. I want for you to be my queen, but you won’t let me,” sniffling, you lean back, and stare into his crystal blue eyes. You heard him, but aren’t sure if you believe him.

“But you keep me here in this cabin, or at school.”

Gulping, Steve nods his head. His hands, caress your back, and you finally slow down enough to feel his massive and hard cock, pressing into your stomach. “It’s done. Whatever. And I still want you to brand me.”

“Steve?” He hums, acknowledging you, and a sinful smile pulls up your mouth. “I want to try something.”

“Whatever you want, Dovey.”

“Take off your underwear and lay on the bed,” his tongue swipes over his lips before he brings his bottom lip into his mouth. Biting on the puffy pillow, “Please? Or we could watch each other get off.”

“As hot as that sounds, I am curious what you have in mind,” his arms drop from around your body, and he steps back. Letting your eyes wander over his chiseled and decorated body before he pulls down his boxers. His angry cock bounces up, and you stare at the beads of precum leaking down his member. Coating his piercing, and you sigh knowing that cock is yours.

“Hey, Clarence,” you giggle, nodding to the bed.

“I really hate the name you gave him.”

“Clarence is my friend. Aren’t you buddy?”

“Until Clarence destroys you for other men,” like you are ever going to know. If Steve has it his way he is going to murder anyone that so much as looks at you like they want to fuck you. If he could read minds, he’d kill any man that dared to have an illicit thought about you.

“Steve, get on the damn bed,” rolling his eyes, he clamors onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he watches your naked body. “I saw this on a video once.”

“Porn is not real sex, Dovey.”

“And we’re not having sex. Shut up, and lay there,” you crawl onto the bed with him, and look down at his monstrous dick. You still aren’t sure where the hell he was going to fit that. “You can look, but not touch right now, okay?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Okay?”

“Fine,” Slinging your leg over his body, you start kissing up his dick. Giving him a clear view of your glistening folds before flattening your tongue, and licking up the thick vein. “Fuck me,” he groans when you flick your tongue over his slit. Moaning at his salty flavor.

“Yeah, like that, baby,” it is almost a whine as you suck over his spongy tip. “Take it all,” you respond by wiggling your ass, and he wants to foam at the mouth. “Can I spread you apart?”

“What?” Lifting off him, you peek around your ass. He is staring at your cunt like a kid in a candy store. Ready to devour every bit of your honey.

“I won’t touch, I just want to stare at the face of God just a bit better.”

“Don’t put your finger inside of me, and I’ll let you spread me open, Captain. But I’m also just getting started.”

“Fine. Ahh!” He yelps when you wrap a hand around the base of his cock, and slap Clarence over your lips. His thick mitts grab each globe of your ass, and split you open. Letting his fingers drift lower, and he pulls apart your pussy lips. Moaning when you clench around nothing. Your arousal is getting so sticky and sweet, and all he wants is a little taste. Just a tiny bit, but he wants to know all you have planned.

Your little bean needs to be flicked, and your tight hole needs to be filled, but the way you are sucking on his dick was enough for him to come undone. “Don’t come unless I tell you, too,” you tease, looking back at him. Waiting on him to look at your sly little grin before swallowing him whole.

“You’re such a brat,” if he wanted to see a brat, you would show him one. Quickly you sit up, and drop yourself right onto his face. Grinding over his mouth, and let him slurp up your juices. Your hands press down into the mattress as you ride his face. My goodness, he is good. You could come right now. Letting his lips circle around your clit as he sucks on the pearl.

You’re gonna come. But you won’t let him enjoy cleaning up your honey. “Yeah. Captain!” He loves hearing your sweet voice call him that. His cock is throbbing at getting you off. Bringing up your hands to your tits, you give your nipples some stimulation as you let Steve work you over.

“So good, Captain. Right there. Yeah. Fuck yeah,” he swats at your ass, and you moan even louder. “Fuck, Captain,” another slap. “So fucking good! Ahh!” Screaming at your release as Steve smacks you again, you lean back down, and bob a few times on his cock.

“Oh, come on!” He shouts, having to stare up your petals soaked in your cream. Your sticky slick coats your thighs, and you need to be properly cleaned, “Dovey!”

“Enjoy looking at your brat, Captain,” he licks your remaining slick on his lips. Mesmerized at how pretty your pussy looks. Knowing how much better it will look, gaping, swollen, and coated in his cum. The messier your cunt looked the better. He was going to have to get a camera to record him destroying you. Owning you. Filling you up with his essence.

“Okay,” you chirp, sitting up, you turn to look at him.

“Now, that’s a bunch of horse shit. You better fucking finish the job. If you come, I better come.”

“I’m still not finished, Captain,” you promise so sweetly as your other leg swings over him. “I want Clarence to feel me,” holding the base of his cock, you sink down until you feel the cool metal from his piercing at your entrance. Rubbing his tip through your folds, and tempted to just push it through your hole. Holding it right there.

“I’ll let you do it, but I wouldn’t advise letting gravity have its way with you. What’re you doing, baby? Is this what you saw in the — holy fuck,” he whines as you lay him flat, and you settle your weight over his length. Letting your pussy lips be on either side of his cock.

Steve sits up, looking down at his stomach. This isn’t at all what he had planned. Seeing you innocently biting at your lip as you start to move over him. Your drenched cunt rubbing over his length in the most delightful way. He would have never taken the time for this. It was always about getting it in, and getting his feel before he’d leave his cum on their chest, their face, whatever. Never inside of them.

But with you he wanted to see you dripping with him. Wanted to watch your face as he split you open for the first time. He needed to see every change to your face. Hear all your sounds of pain and discomfort turn into blinding pleasure. He needed to see and feel it all.

But this not only feels amazing, it looks even better. Your sweet whimpers while you use him to get off. Even the bounce of your tits as you start to pick up speed, “Can I touch you?” You answer by nodding your head quickly. His hands slid up your body before cupping your breasts. Kneading each one of them with the expertise that only he has.

“You look so gorgeous, little bird. You’re making your Captain feel so good,” you start panting at his words. He admitted he was yours. “Clarence loves the way your pussy feels. Fuck, I need this, Dove. Everyday until you give me what’s mine. You’re going to take me so well, too. This pussy was made for me. She’s going to be molded to your Captain. The perfect fit, Dovey.”

He smiles when your movements become erratic. He isn’t sure if it’s the gyrating of your hips or the praising, but he is loving this. “I knew you could be a good girl for me. I can’t wait to feel all of you, Dovey. You’re all mine, and my body is all yours. Have you stretched so tight around me, and I’ll kiss away every tear that spills from your pretty eyes. There ya go, Dove. Right there, baby. You’re doing the best job for your Captain. Oh fuck, baby!”

He pinches and rolls your nipples as your legs start trembling. “There’s my girl. Look at how pretty you look when you’re coming. Go on, Dove. Ride it out. Ride out your high, darling,” he can feel your juices soak his pelvis, and while he was close, he was going to let you come down from this high.

“Thatta, girl,” removing his hands, he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, and twists you around. Hovering his body over yours, his thick fingers brush back your baby hairs as he waits on your eyes to open back up. “How was that?”

“You didn’t — Capt…oh,” your voice sinks away when his hips thrust himself through your lips. It isn’t sex, and in a way, it is much more intimate. Steve looks over your face, and just how utterly spent you are becoming. Squeaking, and trying to mutter out his nickname.

“Shh, enjoy the ride,” he whispers before starting to nip at your neck. Giving the sensitive column open mouth kisses as you cling to his back. His whole weight was on top of you, and you wanted more. If you could speak, you’d tell him to have it right now. To go ahead and sink into you for real, but you couldn’t.

His pelvis drives through your folds quicker, the ball of his piercing rubbing over your clit, and causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head. You keep your legs good and spread to accommodate the thick body of Steve. A limp noodle. That’s what you were. Lifeless, but full of the most blinding pleasure.

“Dovey, I’m about to come, where do you want it?”

“Like…like that first time.”

“You want me to try to get some in you?” Vigorously you nod your head, and he hates he had to ask you. He wants his seed so deep inside of you that it makes him crazy. Sitting up, he chokes his cock a few times, before pressing the tip right at your entrance, and you simper as his warmth coats your pussy.

“Did some of it get in me?” Chuckling, Steve leans back on his heels, and spreads you out. “Yes, Dovey. Some of it got in there. I’d finger it in you, but I don’t want you to get pregnant like this.”

“Steve, I have an IUD,” he growls, his jaw pulsing. “What is it?”

“We gotta have that removed.”

“But…I don’t want to get pregnant right away. I want you to have me dicked down so hard I can’t walk. And I just don’t want to worry about that. Steve, I did this for us.”

“Fine. A few months, but then I want it removed. Because I will fuck you so hard and deep that your belly starts to swell with me. Fuck,” he grits his teeth, getting out of the bed. He doesn’t say another word as he walks into the bathroom. Returning with a warm washcloth he cleans you up. Finishing, he leans forward and peppers the sweetest kisses over your core. Letting a kiss linger as his eyes drift up to you, and he stands up swiftly.

“I need a cigarette. Go back to bed. I’ll be back in just a minute,” his voice is short, and almost angry? Puzzled?

“Okay,” you look at him a bit confused, but crawl under the covers, and hold them tight around your body. He was acting funny, and you aren’t sure why.

Steve stands just outside the front door. Keeping it wide open as he stares into the cabin. Taking long drawls of the stick. He knows he’s starting to lose his mind. First offering to let you brand him, and now this. He wouldn’t lose his touch, but he also wasn’t going to lose you. Yeah. He wanted you pregnant to keep you. It’s all it was. And that is a secret he would keep to himself.

“Hey,” you are thankful that there was a break from classes, and you could lounge around all day. But the random visits from Natasha were annoying. “Ahem,” she clears her throat, and you grunt in response. You want to be left alone.

“I hope your tits are covered, I’m coming in there.”

“Ahh,” you bring the covers up around your chest, jolting up in bed. “What are you doing?”

“I did warn you,” she pulls open your curtains, and you notice a box in her hands that she tosses on the bed. “There. It’s for you to wear. Steve will be here at five. You need a shower. Change the fucking sheets on the bed, and get used to people looking at your body. Steve loves showing off what he has that no one can touch. You could take a bath and get good and relaxed. Isn’t there some oils in there? Make yourself look nice.”

“What is going on?” Asking as you timidly pull the box towards you.

“Aww, your tattoo has healed nicely. I heard about it. You really let him do that?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” reaching into the box, you pull out a slinky dress. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m going to tell your lover boy you said that,” she gives you a quick wink. Was everyone aware that Steve didn’t like you using profanity? Everyone single one of them were probably watching and listening, just to tell him, “You’re going on a date. He’ll be here at five. Don’t be late.”

“I don’t have any shoes for this dress.”

Natasha takes a calculated step towards you before cupping your cheek. Her thumb traces the outline of your kiss bruised lips, and she smiles sweetly at you. “Honey, you belong to Steve Rogers. He’ll bring everything else that you’ll need for the date. He sure is breaking you in nicely. Have you let him fucked you yet?”

“No. His cock scares me,” your voice is so weak as you put the dress back in the box. You’d get it out after your bath.

“Why?” Natasha tries to stifle her giggles, and you swat her hand off your face. Glaring up at her for mocking you, “Ooh, she’s feisty, but too scared to take little Stevie’s dick. You know it’ll fit.”

“Three fingers hurt.”

“And that veiny cock is going to sting. Surely three fingers eventually feel good? I bet you like a little bit of the pain, don’t you? Is it true he’s pierced?” Her perfectly arched brow moves up, and she grins at you once again.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m talking about his — you sly dog. You won’t let him put it in your puss or your ass, but you’ll take it in your mouth. What gives?” Shrugging, because it was killing you to continue to deny him. And ultimately yourself. “Things stretch.”

“That sounds awful!”

“At first,” shocking you, she flops down on yours and Steve’s bed, grimacing as she looks at you. “Please, tell me the two of you just sleep here.”

“I’m naked,” of course you and Steve didn’t just sleep in here. You and him were discovering ways to pleasure yourselves and each other without penetration. It was beginning to suck.

“Shh. I don’t need to hear that. I’m going to give you some pointers because you and your baby bird talons have managed to do something to Steve. You want to fuck him, yeah?”

“Duh,” you cover your mouth, trying to stop yourself from giggling. “But it’s so big!”

“Don’t…stop. Keep your tits covered. The pussy stretches to accommodate large things. I mean babies come out of that hole,” gasping, you take that information in. “Oh, you’ll experience that as well. Steve is going to have his babies. But you’re freaking yourself out about it. Let it just happen. He’s not going to just shove himself in there. He’s going to, you know, play with you.”

“This is really awkward,” the way everyone is so open with your sex life, and your body is slightly embarrassing. Natasha is better than Bucky or Sam, but still. The principle of the matter is you need to get used to this.

“Use one of your toys, and…”

“I’m not allowed to have penetrating toys.”

Her mouth falls open as she looks at you. Reaching around you to your side of the bed, she pulls open the drawer, and starts laughing, “Not allowed? And you behave? I’d like for someone to tell me I couldn’t do something. What is this shit? What do you even do with them?”

You spend a lot of time swatting Natasha. Getting her out of your drawer, you close it. Turning to look at her with a glare, “But I’m not you. I don’t mind being told what to do, and also testing his boundaries. And, well…I do want Steve to be the first thing, ya know? Like that’s somehow romantic in our fucked up relationship. He’s the only person to ever be inside me,” Natasha tilts her head to the side, her eyes flit around your face as she studies you. “And only his fingers. And mine. And I like that. And I don’t know if what I’m doing is making him want to beg for me. I don’t want to be the one that breaks.”

“So you want him to break?” You can see the mischievousness in her grin as she looks towards the door. “Okay, I know what he’s bringing you when he picks you up. I’ve got the perfect idea!”

“Little bird!” Steve shouts the moment he walks in the door. You take a final look at yourself in the mirror before inhaling a deep breath. Starting to turn around when Steve’s reflection is behind you. “Dove,” his voice whispers as his eyes scan over your front and back. You almost have forgotten your given name in preference of his nickname.

“Wow,” stepping up behind you, his hands skim down your sides, before flowing over your stomach, and he pulls you into him. “What do you think of the dress?”

“It’s nice. But what do you think?”

“I think you look good enough to devour, but we should get to dinner.”

“Steve, I don’t have any shoes for this dress,” you turn around in his embrace, looking up at him through your lashes. There’s always little reminders of just how massive he is. The most broad shoulders you have ever seen. And those chiseled arms that are currently wrapping around you tightly, and make you feel secure. Not trapped.

“I know, darling. I brought you some shoes with me. And also,” you hate the loss of his arms and warmth around you, but he reaches in his back pocket to take out a jewelry box. “I know most women expect diamonds, and don’t worry, you’ll get your diamonds.”

Opening the box, you glance back up at him, and he gulps. Licking his lips slowly as he removes the piece of jewelry. You turn back around, letting him place the necklace around your neck, “Pearls represent purity. And one day I’ll have you dripping in diamonds.”

“The day I’m no longer pure?” You ask, looking at his eyes through the mirror as he finishes clasping the necklace. “The day you no longer want me?”

“Dovey, you’ll always be more pure than me. And the day I no longer want you is a day that doesn’t exist. If I die first, I will haunt you. You’ll always be mine.”

“And if I die first?” Steve takes a long inhale as his lips start running over the top of your back. Not even lifting fully off your skin as he presses his petal pink mouth over your supple skin, “What happens if I die first?”

“I’ll join you in the afterlife immediately after. I won’t live without you,” biting on your lip, Steve looks deep into your eyes in the mirror, “There is no me without you, Dovey. I will tear this world apart and burn it to ashes to save you. And that’s a promise. But for now, I think it’s time for dinner. C’mon. You need your shoes,” sliding his hand down to yours, he guides you into the living room where he picks up a new box.

Starting to reach towards the box, he beats you, and sinks down to his knees, “Give me your right foot. I’m here for balance, Dovey, use me,” you have to brace yourself as you hold your hand on him to keep yourself from falling. His calloused hands add each heel to your foot before he kisses up your leg.

The softest open mouth kisses, guiding his way up to the hemline of your dress, but it doesn’t stop his ascent. Kissing right over your front and then peppering kisses across your collarbone. Going further up to kiss your tattoo, “You wear my mark beautifully, Dovey. We really should go.”

You aren’t sure how long Steve is going to remain soft, or if he’s only trying to break you, so he can receive his ultimate prize, but it’s working. Every bit of it. You don’t even want to go to dinner, you want tonight to be the night. Because he’s worth it.

You take a bite of cheesecake off Steve’s fork. Smiling at him while you pull his hand under your dress, and higher up your thigh. Letting him feel just how heated your core was for him. Tonight was amazing. Not just romantic, but fun. He laughed. He kissed you in between courses.

His life is fascinating, and you love being a part of it. His pinky wiggles along your panties, and you bite of your lip, stopping a whimper from escaping. You lean your head over onto his shoulder as you let him feel just how ruined your panties are.

You mewl, and grab tighter to his arm. Enjoying this moment when a man clears his throat. “Looks like your getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar, Rogers.”

“Rumlow,” Steve grunts, leaning forward slightly in front of your body, and blocking you from this man. “Aren’t you usually in the slums of the city?”

“Funny, Rogers. So it is true?” Steve pulls himself out from under your dress, and grabs your hand, holding it tightly. Dinner was almost over, and now there is a man you had never met, and he is ruining the moment you were having. “You got you a little doll to dress up, huh?”

“Just some girl,” making a sign of irritation, Steve’s hand squeezes yours, and you shut up quickly. “I thought I told you not to come here.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not so nice of places to eat where you banished me to. The delicacies here are much nicer. Word on the street is there’s some nice rare and fresh pussy in your midst,” Rumlow chuckles when Steve’s hand drops yours, and he stands, twisting Rumlow around to have his face shoved up against the table.

He laughs as he looks up at you, “You’ll learn. He’ll just use you up like all his other whores,” Steve lifts his head up, and slams it back on the table. “Enough, Rogers!”

“Apologize to her!” He grunts, pounding his head again. “Apologize!”

“So she’s not some girl. You used to send your whores wherever you got the most money. Now look at you, holding one on a short leash, and all for your own. Going soft. Alright!” He shouts when Steve hits his head again. A dribble of blood starting to drip on the table.

A part of you wants to turn and leave and forget about this life. The other part is watching your man fight for your honor. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks for ruining our fucking dinner, you fucking pig,” he slings his body over to another table and the patrons scream. His inked hand softens when he takes yours. “Let’s go home, Dovey.”

His voice is steady, but you hear the anger in it. Choosing to not make a comment this time. Knowing that he needs to work through his anger on the long drive to the cabin. Swallowing deeply as you try to hydrate your mouth. Tonight was perfect. And with one asshole it was ruined, and you hadn’t had a chance to initiate Natasha’s plan.

Driving quietly to the cabin, you watch Steve’s hands flex on the steering wheel, “Who was that?”

“A piece of shit.”

“I could tell,” Steve huffs, and drives a bit faster. “Who was it?”

“A former friend. He…he’s another dealer. Not quite as successful, and he sure likes to piss me off. This…I want you kept away from people like him. They think they know, and they have no idea. But — I should have known better. People can talk, but…”

“We don’t have to go on dates anymore,” grimacing, he turns to look at you. “Is it dangerous for me to be seen with you?”

“I put a fucking target on your neck.”

“I can finish school online. I don’t want to stay in the cabin alone and waiting on you, but I don’t have to be seen.”

“Why are you acting so calm about this?”

You shrug, turning your body to face him as your hand plants on his thigh, and rubs it soothingly. “Because I have to be the calm to your chaos.”

“You’re a fucking brat.”

“When I need to be,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a crooked grin as he pulls into the cabin. Starting to retreat, you had plans, and you would see them through. “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable, Captain,” his eyes darken as you jump out of the car. You make sure to add some extra sway into your hips as you make your way into your new home.

Steve stays in the car for a moment as he thinks about how stupid and reckless he’s been. Rumlow had heard something. Didn’t matter if it was about you specifically. He heard something, and that was enough to irritate the fuck out of him.

He’d put a target right on your neck, one that told people who you belonged to. And most would leave you alone. There were a select few that were stupid enough to try something, and that clearly hadn’t been on the front of his mind.

He’d keep you hidden if he had to. He’d keep you right beside him. Whatever it took because you now belonged to him, and he would murder the world if it meant keeping you safe.

He sighs, knowing it was going to be another night of him aching. You were folding. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. But you had proven to be just as stubborn as he was, and it made him giddy. Of course he’d want to keep someone that challenged him. And looked damn adorable in doing so.

Walking into the cabin, he tosses his keys to the side when he sees you standing in the doorway with your little lingerie on. Turning around, he locks the door and sets the alarm, “I’m not really in the mood, Dovey.”

“I know you’re not, Captain. I just thought we could relax a moment before bed,” he turns around, the blue of his eyes barely visible as he looks you up and down. Stopping on your mark before he looks at your bare neck.

“I need to get you a place to store your jewelry. Did you place it on the dresser?” You shake your head no as he walks towards the couch. Stopping with your answer, and you ease closer to him. Kneeling on the floor in front of him as you pout up at his tall stature. He cups your chin, tilting your face up more, so he can see you better.

His thumb traces your lips, and you part your mouth. The appendage slips past your pillowy pout, and you respond, closing your mouth around him. Sucking on his large thumb, and wishing it was his cock in your mouth., “On the counter in the bathroom?”

You shake your head no again, and his lip turns up into a snarl. Hoping you are right in your thinking on what he needs to do. “What the fuck, Dove? Where is it?”

“I must have lost it,” he growls, removing his thumb and plopping down on the couch, and laying his head back on the cushions. His hands pulses with his anger. Natasha told you he had taken the time to pick out the piece of jewelry himself. “Are you mad, Captain?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed off. I got something for you to be nice, and you fucking lost it. It’s like you don’t even care. It’s…”

“You think I deserve a punishment?” His head picks up from the couch, and he glares at you. Trying to ignore your tits that are early popping out of your top. Or the way that the garter belt is digging into your soft skin. You were walking sin. A pure temptress that was nothing but a cocktease.

“I lost something that is precious to you. You’re angry, so why don’t you show me what happens to naughty girls?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Dovey,” the timbre of his voice is low and full of rasp as you tilt your head, and nod.

“I do. Don’t you remember what happened last time you punished me? The way my body responded to you? Don’t you want to try again?”

In one movement he has you laying across his lap, and his beefy hand smooths over your ass. Letting out a little whimper, you turn back to look up at him. “Did you really lose my gift I just gave you a few hours ago?”

“Yes, sir,” smack. “Mmm,” you moan, and Steve’s hand rubs over your stinging skin. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” slap on the other cheek. His eyes look more at your jiggling ass than your face.

“I am sorry, Captain. Ooh!” You mewl as he slaps each cheek back to back. “I’ve been such a bad,” smack, “Naughty,” smack, “little bird,” the hardest smack of all brings a line of tears to your eyes. “Captain, I didn’t mean it.”

“How is your ass feeling, Dovey?”

“It hurts.”

“How’s my pussy feeling, Dove?” You clear your throat, trying to lift yourself up for him to get a better view. “I can feel you throbbing on me. You sure are a little slut that needs to be devoured, huh? Shall I take a look at that pretty hole?” You shake your head no, biting at your lip. “I deserve to see the mess that I helped create. You’re burning a hole in my pants with how heated you are.”

His thick fingers start to pull down your lacey underwear, and he lets them stay on your thighs. With one hand on each cheek, he pulls you apart, and looks back up at your face, “Dovey, what are you trying to do?”

“Nothing, Captain.”

“What have we here?” You whimper as his hand reaches in between your thighs, giving the necklace a little tug. Wiggling around on his lap, you try not to make a peep as a few of the pearls pop out of your entrance.

“Who taught you about pearl play, hmm? I don’t like when things go in my pussy that aren’t me.”

“But it’s so small. Uhh,” you bite on your lip as he rubs a few of the pearls over your sensitive nub. “I didn’t…”

“It was Natasha, wasn’t it? She taught you how to be a naughty little slut. Are you ready to submit to me?”

“Do I have your heart?” Steve flattens the strand of pearls above your clit, and pushes and pulls it over your own pearl. “Do I, Steve?”

“Is my loyalty not enough?”

“Is that all I’m worth?”

“You’re more than the world could ever offer.”

“Then say…mmm…say it!” Your voice cracks as pleasure courses through your veins. “I need you to say that I own your heart!”

“You own me,” he pulls a few of the pearls out of your twat, and stars interrupt your vision. “You own my whole being. My loyalty. My protection. My everything.”

You grab onto his legs tightly, gritting your teeth as your orgasm builds up. Nearly taking your breath away, but you weren’t going to give it to him. “I want your heart!” Steve pulls the necklace fully out of you, and starts slapping your swollen pussy lips with his flattened hand. “I need your heart, Steve!”

He doesn’t stop. Just continues to slap over the sensitive skin as your juices pool out of you. “Steve, give me your heart! Ahh! Please, that's all I want!” Turning your head to look at him, he gives you a regretful look, “Please!” You sigh as his hand flattens over your core. “Will you not give it to me?”

He shakes his head, letting his hands drop to his sides. Giving a little growl, you remove your belly from his lap. Standing up to remove your panties completely before turning to straddle him. Grabbing up his hand you place it over your chest. “It’s yours. All of it, and all of me is yours. Why can’t you do the same for me? Steve, you own me. I own you, so give me what I want! Please.”

“I have no heart to give you,” he whispers, pulling you to him by your chin. “I lost it a long time ago, but if I had one, it would be yours.”

“You just don’t want to tell me you love me.”

“You haven’t even told me,” he smirks, dropping his hands to your thighs, they run to your hips, and he starts grinding you over his lap. His cock presses into his slacks, and right onto your bare center. It’s a fear you’ve had. As amazing as he feels, you worry this is all he can give you. “Tell me.”

“You first,” Steve clears his throat, as he moves you faster over him. Moving his head closer to your chest before biting on your top, and pulling it down enough to free your tits. Giving your nipple a bite, he rolls the hardened bud in between his teeth. “We’re at a stand still. Will you love our children?”

“I’ll protect them and care for them.”

“That’s all you’re going to give us?”

“Honey, are you daydreaming about our family?”

“Don’t tease,” you give his arm a little swat before you force him to look at you. His hands not having to make you move anymore as your hips naturally search for that pleasuring friction. “I love you, Steven Rogers. And you can have me when I mark you. All of me. I want every woman to be envious that you’re owned. Every man to know that you come home to me every night. I want our children to look at their father and believe that he loves their mother enough to have her seared on his skin.”

“Done,” he moans, and you reach behind you, removing your bra. Letting yourself be almost completely bare and vulnerable for him. Leaning forward, you give him a hard bite on his neck. Right where you were going to mark him, and he grits his teeth. You don’t let up. You listen as his breathing picks up. Can feel bruises forming on your hips with the way he is digging into your skin.

His cock is throbbing, needing so much more than this not so dry humping. His pants are ruined, and his neck is getting implanted with your teeth marks. But you don’t stop. You bite down a bit harder, until he’s screaming in pleasure and pain, and his spunk heats up your core. You pull off his neck. Sitting straight up, and shimmy your shoulders.

“Is that it then? Searing my skin?”

“I want my lips to burn your neck. I need to see my brand charred on you.”

“As you wish, Dovey. I’ll have Natasha get your lips copied, and a branding tool will be created. You can burn my whole body if it means I get you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“And one day, I’ll have your heart, Steve,” you pull off him, and reach your hand down to him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“As you wish.”

Next

Masterlist

You pull up the long drive and come to a stop beside his car. You lean forward, groaning as another zap runs up your neck. You whimper and stay as you are, mustering the strength to go inside.

A tap disturbs your agonized trance and you push yourself up, straightening your arms as you keep a hold on the wheel. Lloyd's hand falls away from the window and he pulls on the handle. You reach to flip the lock up and let him open the door.

"You hidin' from me, buttercup?" He leans on the door, one foot hooked over the other.

"Nope, had some running around to do."

You slide your keys out of the ignition and grab your purse. You suck down the pain as you get out of the car and rip the door out from under his arm. He stands straight as you hit the lock button.

"Running around? Doing what, exactly?"

You look at him. His shadow looms in the evening, menacing and mean.

"Nothing you need to worry about. I'm home now, what do you need?"

He snorts, "what's the big deal? I'm curious. Daycare don't stay open that late--"

"Like I said, running around. Bank and stuff. Besides, what do you care?"

"I don't, not really, but I'm horny and I don't like waiting."

You suck in your cheeks. That much is clear about the man. He doesn't think above the waist. And you don't seem to have an ounce of good judgment, so whatever.

"Let me just get inside and I'll take care of you."

"Take care of me? How?" He asks giddily as he turns on his heel to stride in pace with you up the walk.

"However you like."

"You okay, Mimi, you sound... tense."

"Fine," you reach to rub your neck, "I'll just get washed up first."

"No need, I like it sweaty," he steps ahead of you and opens the door.

You go inside and keep your back to him as you roll your eyes. He can be absolutely disgusting. You knew that from the start, but you're still not sure why you chose to put up with it. It's almost worth it to go back to Johnny. Almost.

"I got an idea, you get naked, put an apron on, and I'll put you up on the counter again."

"Lloyd," you sigh as you put your purse down and peel off your jacket, "I'm really tired, can we just... be lazy?"

"Hmm, I guess, how about you get on your stomach, I like the view from back there."

"Sure," you kick off your boots. "I just need to get off my feet."

"Mmm, don't sound so excited."

You say nothing. You make a path to the couch, stripping as you do. Jeans then your shirt. FUCK! Another electric ripple that has you keeling over, barely catching yourself against the couch.

You untangle yourself from the shirt and push yourself up. Lloyd touches your back and you flinch, further jolting your neck. You nearly shriek, instead gnashing your teeth as you face him.

"What's up, doll face?"

"Nothing," you his out and strain to reach the back of your bra.

You unhook the clasps and turn away again. You shimmy out of your panties and move forward, getting onto your stomach. It feels nice, despite the circumstance. You angle your face towards the back of the couch.

You wait. Nothing happens. You push yourself up on your elbows and turn your head as far as you can to peek at Lloyd. You give him a 'well?' look.

"You know what," he shifts on his feet as he meets your eye. Usually he'd be too distracted by your ass, "I'm tired."

"Huh?" You drop your head back down, "right."

You steel yourself and sit up. You lean back and groan. God damn it! Everything hurts.

"Disappointed?" He asks.

"No," you say, more crisply than you intend.

You get up, fighting not to fall back, and gather your clothes up. You're embarrassed that you just flopped down like that for him and he backs out. Maybe he doesn't want you anymore. Good.

Or maybe not so good. You don't really have anywhere else to go. He knows that and just like everything else, he probably doesn't care.

“Did I do something?” You ask as you hug your clothes in front of you.

He won't look at you as he bounces on his feet. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“Nope, just not feeling it,” he shrugs.

“Oh, have you eaten? I might make something–”

“Save it,” he waves you off and struts past you, “I got a call to make.”

He leaves you, confused and reeling. You drag your feet out to the entryway and grab your phone from your purse. You take it with you upstairs, hobbling a step at a time. You stumble into the guest room and drop your clothes.

You'll stay hungry. You're too tired and sore. You lay down and resign yourself to a grumbling stomach.

"You want something, you work for it," he leans in to growl in your ear.

"I'm sorry," you try to twist free, "I'll go--"

"You've gone this far, sweetie. Maybe you didn't get my wallet, but you tried," his other hand spreads across the back of your head as he presses his cheek to yours, his stubble poking you roughly, "you don't get to run away."

"Please," you murmur, heart thrumming behind your ribs, "I'm just... having a rough time. Rent's due--"

"Shut up," she snarls, nuzzling along your ear and teething the lobe.

You shiver, the sensation riling you. These sort of things are usually empty and detached but there's something about him. Something intoxicating. Maybe that's why you fucked this up.

"Show me a good time," he breaths against your jaw, "and I'll pay your fucking rent."

You tug at your arm again and he squeezes until your bones feel ready to snap. You relent and lean your head to the side as his lips tickle down your skin. It's not an unappealing offer, but you usually get more for barely a kiss.

"Let's go somewhere," you offer. "I'll take care of you, baby."

"I'm not fucking stupid. You got a can of mace in that purse," he sneers, "right here."

"Huh-- here?" You recoil, caught in his embrace as he hooks an arm around you.

"Mmm, don't play shy," his other hand brushes along your curves, lingering on the hem of your short skirt, "we both know you're not."

"I... let's go to the bathroom--"

"One more word and you can spend the night in a cell," he leans back to look you in the eye. You watch him pull back his jacket, the flash of a gold badge against the lining. Oh shit!

"Fuck," you utter as your eyes round.

"Don't try that on me. You look sweet but you're one wily bitch," he lets go of his jacket and clutches your hip, "so get in my lap and try to be a good girl.”

You almost scoff. He can't mean that. Right here, in the middle of the club.

He unsnakes his arm and clamps onto your elbow. He keeps you trapped as he pulls his other hand back. He undoes the buckle of his belt and lifts his hips slightly. You glance around, mortified as he pushes his zipper open. You giggle.

“Alright, buddy, you scared me good–”

“I'm not trying to scare you,” he smirks as he reaches down his pants, “I'm telling you what's going to happen if you don't sit on my dick right now.”

You flinch as your lips part. He looks at them and pokes his tongue out.

“If you'd rather use that pretty mouth–”

“Alright, shit,” you grab his bicep and squeeze, “if I do this… I can go.”

“Sure, babe,” he winks, “you don't get a man hard and leave him hanging.”

You inhale and let your chest fall as you blow out a thick breath. Your skin is alight in horror. The helplessness stings as you put a hand on the table and push yourself up. The guys bulging and ready to go– fucking big too.

You get a glimpse just as you lift your ass off the seat. He helps you angle between him and the table as you keep your chin up, eyes searching for others watching. You grasp the table's edge as he guides his tip along your thighs and bunches your skirt up in his other hand.

You ease down as he prods at your entrance. You bite down as slowly you stretch around him. You're usually a silicone kinda gal. Most men can't compare.

You spread your legs wider as he dips a hand around your front, feeling around and pushing your lips wide around his intrusion. You moan as you slip down, bottoming out as you throw your hand back to clutch his arm.

He drags his fingertips up to your clit, his other hand on your hip as he rocks you slowly. He presses against your back, burying his nose against your neck as he puffs. His groans float beneath the deafening blare of pop music.

Your lashes flutter and your eyes nearly roll back. He swirls around your clit as your legs tense and you arch your back. You can't help but follow his motion, tilting as you delight in the fullness.

“That's it, sweetheart, better than a couple bucks, huh?” He growls as he urges you on, fingertips curling into your hip. “Fuck, you're soaking wet…”

You bite the tip of your tongue and try not to let the pleasure break through. Bodies writhe and dance before you but none notice your lurid scene. The thought of what you're doing, right there, in front of everyone…

Your breath hitches as you grip the table tighter and rock against his hand, desperate for the friction of his dancing fingers. He leans back, letting you do the work. You snap your hips down, over and over, the heat radiating down your thighs and up your back.

He smacks your ass with his other hand and you yelp. Your thighs quake as he flicks your clit faster and you cum in a storm of spasms. Your lungs and throat burn as your shallow breaths gust out.

“Fuck, baby, you came fast,” he taunts as he kneads your ass, pinching before he slips his hand back to your hip, “slow, slow, baby.”

He makes you obey, setting a new pace. Long and torturous thrusts, tip to base, taking his time as he keeps his fingertips on your swollen clit.

You hang your head, forgetting your audience and yourself. You reach to cover his hand with your own as you orgasm again. You're weak as you fall apart in his lap.

Still, he keeps you moving slow. A tepid pace that has you wanting more. You try to speed up and he squeezes your hip. He reels you in, fisting your skirt as he sets the motion.

“I'm in no hurry, baby,” he coos as he pulls you to lean against him, your cunt open to the room, hidden just behind the table, “I want my money's worth.”

“Great,” he hands the tongs to Peter, “grab ‘em and lets go make an inventory.”

Peter takes the tongues and meets your eye. He arches a brow to say, ‘I told you’. You really don’t think much of it. Cole just seems a bit eager and a touch distractible.

You grab your bag and follow Cole to his office. He enters ahead of you and rounds the desk, swiveling the chair to the side, “sit.”

“Oh, it’s fine–”

“Really, I’ll be up and down,” he insists, “I want you to make your list. Oh, and the receipts…” he lets go of the chair and opens the drawer, “I’ll add it…” He takes out a binder with pages jutting out and strips of receipt dangling from the side.

“Uh,” you go around the other side of the desk. You sit as you watch Cole with his messy binder. That can’t be his filing. “Is that–”

“Everything, yeah.”

“Cole,” you lean your elbow on the desk and press your palm to your neck, “you need to back that up. Please tell me you have it on your laptop.”

“Huh, oh, no, it’s fine. Everything’s here. I’m a paper guy, you know?”

“Yeah? Look at this place. When’s the last time you had a fire inspection? The light switch in the bathroom crackles when you turn it on,” you say.

“Well, I wouldn’t know where to start getting this on the computer,” he stands straight, “I send emails at most.”

“Hmm, there are programs… I can show you. I worked as a secretary a few years ago. Wasn’t my favourite but I picked up a few tricks.”

“You? A secretary?” He grins, “what about the daycare?”

“That was after. I worked a desk to get through school.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to see. You might have to take the lead on the whole back up situation,” he slides out a lined pad from inside the binder, “here, make the list and we’ll go over what we already have after.”

“Right, sounds…” you pause and seal your lips against another yawn, “good.”

“You okay?” He asks, surprising you as he touches your shoulder, rubbing just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” you reach for a pen and he lets go. “Baking too longer than I thought.”

You laugh off the half-lie and incap the bic. You set to jotting out each ingredient as Cole watches. He finally backs off, sniffing as he checks his watch. You glance up as he gets to the door. He smiles at you and you give one an awkward one in return.

He leaves you and you hunch forward. You lean your head in your hand, dragging the nib lazily. Your eyelids begin to droop as you try to remember every little teaspoon. You haven’t slept well since… well, you didn’t even sleep much with Johnny.

You stop to rub your eye, shoulders stiff, slouching lower and lower. Your weight centers on your elbow as you droop lower and lower. You don’t feel the impact on the desk as you fold over and your cheek hits the paper. Your snores swallow you up into sleep, a coaxing rumble for your fatigue.

☕

You grumble as a pang ripples up your neck and between your shoulders. At first, the world is distant and hazy. You search for the last memory you have of consciousness and sit back so fast, you trigger that same stabbing pain again. 

You reach to touch your neck as you come face to face with the office. And Cole. He sits calmly in a chair, one pulled in from the dining area, as he balances the binder on his lap. He glances up with his eyes, keeping his head bent.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

“What? Morning? How long…” you choke on your words and wipe your dry lips with the back of your hand.

“It’s just after closing. Don’t worry. Not a whole day.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you wake me up?” You try to stand and slip back down, tamping down a grunt as a nerve behind your shoulder blade zaps.

“You looked peaceful. And tired. Besides, I’ll still pay you. We’ll count all the time you took baking as overtime–”

“Why– Cole, that’s very nice but… I don’t wanna take advantage of you.”

“You’re not. You’re saving me. You have the best ideas. Specials and seasonal goods, and you’re going to teach me how to use Excel.”

You nearly laugh. This is absurd. Are you still dreaming?

You reach for your purse and find it open. You dig out your phone and check the time. Holy shit. It’s after seven.

“Hope you don’t mind, I just took the receipts out myself,” he holds up a handful, “didn’t touch anything else.”

“I… I forgot. That’s fine,” you push yourself up with all your strength, ignoring the plucking in your neck. You snatch up your purse and walk stiffly to the other side of the desk. “I have to go.”

“Oh, of course, you good to drive?”

“Uh, yeah, I’d say I’m well rested,” you scoff as you grab your jacket from the rack.

He stands as you don’t even try to put the jacket on. That’s just going to hurt even more. You face him as you fix your grip on your purse.

“I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“No worries,” he puts the binder in the chair and stands straight, “really, I don’t mind. It was kinda nice… comforting. I’m usually in here alone.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess, sorry but I got a drive ahead of me,” you try to smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” his cheeks twitch, “tomorrow.”

You nod, regretting that careless gesture. You scurry to the door and he follows. You look over your shoulder, confused. Another mistake.

“Gotta lock the door behind you,” he explains.

“Oh, yeah, right.”

He follows you through the front, desolate and silent. The dark windows are jarring. You lost a whole day. It’s entirely upending. You turn back the latch but Cole reaches around you to open the door himself. You step outside and pause on the stoop, angling your whole body back to him.

“See ya, Cole.”

“See ya, h– uhhh, tomorrow,” he sputters, blanching as if he’s been caught, “can’t wait.”

"Desserts. Ideas for specials. I was thinking we could have some taste tests-- where's Cole?"

"Should be on his way. He called, his mother's having some plumbing issues or something. I don't know, he's late," Peter shrugs, " weird, he's never late. A bit... flighty but not late."

"Oh," you lift the containers, "I'll move these into the back office then."

"Don't got a key. Master doesn't work, just leave those by the dishrack," Peter says, "you want a coffee before we open up? Maybe I can come up with a new recipe too... something to go with what you did. What did you make?"

You go down the list and he nods. He scrunches his face and his brows suddenly flick up. He grins and winks.

"Go, sit," he shoos you with his fingers. "I want to surprise you."

"But... should I--" you gesture around you.

"I'm already done most of the tasks. I don't wanna be rude but you look tired as hell."

"I am," you agree dryly.

You don't need convincing. You just want to sit down. The prospect of a whole day on your feet is less than enticing. You feel slightly dizzy as it is. Blame it on the lack of sleep or your missed morning caffeine dose, but you know what's really to blame. Every time you get a whiff of the cinnamon, you can feel Lloyd's arm around your neck. You can hear his growl and your pathetic whimpers.

Just sex. Just like he said. You can't be mad at him for wanting what you promised. He put a roof over your head, so that's nothing. That's what you agreed to.

You sit and rest your forehead against your hand. Even those stiff chairs are cozy to your exhausted body. You shift one way and feel your thighs tingle. It's over, it's a new day, and now you know better. Just like with Johnny, it's better to deal with him before yourself.

Peter clinks and clanks, the machines hissing and whirring, a warmth radiating from behind the counter. You're lulled by the activity as it helps you forget. The abrupt silence brings your head up as his soft footfalls pad around. He presents a mug with foam decorated with a maple leaf. He sets it down and puts his hands on his hips proudly.

"Maple cinnamon latte," he smirks, "we'll need more maple... but it's just a test."

"Huh, thanks, Peter," you pull it close and inhale the scent. You pause and look up at him as he watches you, "what about you?"

"Me? Ha, I've had three espressos and I'm about to crawl across the ceiling," he laughs, "decaf until noon at least."

"Ah, yeah, probably a good idea."

"I didn't know you baked," he says, "you got kids or a husband? You seem like the type."

"Uh no, not exactly," you return your attention to the cup and take a cautious sip, "mmm, it's good."

"Yeah, me either," he sways, "I got time though, you know? I'm twenty-one--"

"Lots," you agree with a snort, "what about that girl that was here the other day? She's cute, she comes around a lot."

"She won't even look at me," he frowns, "but she is cute."

"She just seems a bit shy," you offer, "give it time."

"Yeah, yeah," he drags his sole over the floor, "least I'm not Cole."

"What?" You scoff.

"Oh well, I guess you don't know him that well yet. Guy hasn't had a date in five years. He tries. A lot," he gives a cringey look to the wall, "you know, he ends up chasing off most of the girls arguing about beans and roast level and all that."

"Yeah, he is very particular you agree."

"That's a way to put it," Peter backs up, slowly making his way back to the counter. He stops and turns back to you, another wily smirk, "can I put something out there?"

"What?" You take another drink, this one braver, greedy as your temples begin to pound.

"I think he likes you. You're patient. Especially with him. That's no small feat. And well, he's a dope and you're not hard to like," he sticks out his tongue.

"Peter," you roll your eyes, "he's our boss."

"Not that kinda boss. I've had way worse. Sure you have too," he goes behind the counter and boots up the till, "besides, since you got here, you're kinda the boss now."

"What?" You exclaim again.

The door jars inwards, startling both of you. You look over as Cole rushes in, combing his hair with his fingers as one sleeve falls past his shoulder. He looks about as rough as you feel.

"Hey, boss," Peter squeaks, "what's going on?"

"Ah, nothing," he shrugs off his jacket entirely, "I was stuck in traffic and this asshole swung a tire iron at my windshield a few streets back."

"What?" You stand, "are you okay?"

You cross to him without thinking. He's flushed and slightly breathless. He nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, car's in rough shape but I'm fine," his eyes meet yours and his cheeks tinge pink. His nose wiggles and he lifts his chin as he sniffs, "something smells delicious."

"Want one? Maple Cinnamon," Peter offers.

"Maple Cinnamon? When did we add that?"

"We didn't. Didn't want to be outdone."

"Uh, yeah," you interject, "I kinda went crazy in the kitchen last night."

"Crazy?" Cole smiles at you, "how crazy?"

"I made some scones... and some squares... maybe some croissants...."

"Wow, you did all that," he folds his jacket over his arm as his eyes brighten, "that's amazing."

"Enough talking," Peter says, "I've been dying to try!" He peels up the corner of a lid, "can I, please?"

You nod and head around the counter. Cole follows as Peter claims a pumpkin square. You pass, not very hungry, and Cole accepts one. You wait anxiously for their feedback, glancing between them. Both hum and roll their eyes back.

"Oh god, these are like sex," Cole says.

Peter furrows his nose and you're not sure what to say. You hold back a laugh, "well, thanks, I guess."

"Sorry, I'm not in work mode yet," he smacks his forehead, "I'll just shut up and eat.”

“Is that all it takes?” Peter kids and takes another bite.

You cannot outrun what is. Not anymore. You’ve lost that ability. Your mind can’t summon the fantasies that once kept you safe. There is only the tenderness inside and the bruises on your thighs. 

He’s there, somewhere, lurking. You thought he would go to work but that hope was quickly crushed, along with all your others. He stayed and touched you until that got the better of him. Then he would put you on your back, or your stomach, sometimes your side, however he wanted you…

And you let him. You don’t fight. Your weightless body follows his whim and opens to him. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper as your walls clench at the thought of him near you. 

There’s something wrong with you. You’re supposed to love him, so it shouldn’t feel so bad, right? After all he’s done for you, shouldn’t you want him to do that? Shouldn’t you be just as eager for him?

You don’t understand it. It’s not supposed to hurt so surely, you’re doing something wrong. You’ll get it right. You can be what Andy wants, what he needs. You will not be another burden. Never again.

You hear him coming. You quiver and shrink down further. You can’t find the strength to sit up and try. 

He greets you with a sigh. Oh no, he’s mad. You whimper and curl your arm snugger around your head. What did you do now? What is he going to do?

He nears the bed, his shadow standing over you as his presence brings a dark cloud. He shifts and sniffs, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He puts his large hand on your shoulder and you wince. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“We need to talk, Dove,” he says.

Talk? You can’t handle it. You’d rather he just hurt you than repeat the facts. You don’t need him to tell you how bad you are, you already know.

“Sit up,” he shakes you, gently but enough to jar you.

You relent and fall onto your back. You stare at the ceiling and press your hands to the mattress. You sit up, little but little, your muscles knotted and stiff.

You hug the blanket to your chest, hiding behind it as you hunch your shoulders forward. You can’t look at Andy so you focus on the lump of your feet under the covers.

“Why do you keep lying?” He rasps.

You blink as your lip trembles, tears threatening to spring free. He’s mad again. Your entire body tenses as you brace for what comes next.

“You could’ve told me about Steve,” he lifts the shape in his lap and you glance over. It’s your tablet. “He’s your doctor, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

You sniffle and cup your chin in your hands, fingers over your mouth. You watch him turn the tablet over and slide back the cover. You don’t try to stop him or defend yourself. He’s right. About everything.

“If you needed help… with the toy or figuring things out, I was here. I am here. You could’ve asked me,” an edge creeps into his voice, “why didn’t you ask me?”

You don’t say a word. You’re trapped in your own guilt. He has the proof in his hands. You did it, you lied and betrayed him.

“The only thing I ask of you, is that you tell the truth. You haven’t, so I can’t trust you. Not until you show me I can,” Andy closes the tablet, pressing his thumb to the cover. “And maybe then you can have this back.”

You nod and hang your head. It’s easier if you just do what he wants. You’ll get used to it eventually, maybe even one day, you’ll be normal and want it too.

🕊️

“This is nice,” Andy struts into the room with a hanger in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed where he left you. His frustration drew you out of your cocoon to shiver in the morning air. You can smell the crisp autumn seeping in around the window. There’s no point trying to figure out how long you’ve been like this, counting the days will only make it torturous.

You glance over as Andy waggles the dress at you, one of those he bought you. The bishop sleeves are almost longer than the skirt, the shade of faded plum overlaid with a translucent layer. You look at it and nod. Whatever he wants.

“You’ll have to clean up first,” he lays the dress on the bed, “it’ll help you feel better too.”

You blink and pinpoint on his chest. You can’t look him in the face. He nears you and runs his hands down your arms, sending a chill through you. He bends and twists you around to scoop you up. He hums as he lifts you against his chest.

“Aren’t you excited, honey?” He chimes.

You frown, excited? You let your head fall against his shoulder. There isn’t an ounce of strength left in you.

“Thanksgiving,” he prompts as if it’s obvious, “I got everything we need! So you can get started once you're ready. Don’t worry, I woke up early to deal with the turkey.”

He enters the bathroom and puts you down on the closed toilet. You look down at yourself. You wear his t-shirt and nothing else. He moves away to crank on the tub and quickly comes back to you. You wrinkle your nose, confused.

“Thanksgiving?” You croak.

“Uh, yeah, duh!” His tone is laced with forced enthusiasm. “Our first together.”

He tugs the hem of the shirt from under your ass and you murmur. You try to catch the cotton. He tuts and you let go. He rolls the fabric up your body and you lift your arms, surrendering.

“An…” you start to say his name but can’t get the bitter noise out. You clear your throat, “what if… I don’t feel good, I don’t know if I have the energy–”

“You’ve been in bed forever. You can get up for one day,” his timbre turns rigid, “you promised me. You promised Doctor Kemp. Do you want to let us both down?”

You close your eyes and slump. He huffs and tosses the shirt on the tile. You reach to touch your lashes and sniff back a wave of tears. It’s not just the time, the way it moves without you knowing, no, it’s him that makes you feel so helpless.

“Don’t do this,” he whispers, half a growl.

“I…” you inhale, struck by his fury, “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

You try to force a smile as you pull your hands away. Your cheeks twitch and your eyes sting, your lips just won’t curve the way you want them too. Another sigh as he stands straight. He rolls up his sleeves before he lifts you again.

He lowers you into the tube as you squeeze your legs together. You fold your arms around yourself, trying to hide, as he reaches for a scrubby and the bottle of vanilla soap. He pops the cap violently as the water bulges up towards your knees.

“Dove,” he reproaches as he grabs your arm, straightening it as he holds your wrist firmly.

You squeak as he scrubs you harshly. You hide behind your eyelids as the flash of another memory strikes you. The cold downpour of water from a screaming shower head, chattering teeth, and quaking sobs.

When he makes you stand, you curl your fingers to tight fists. As he washes you, you feel even more exposed than before. He takes his time on your chest and stomach, surprising you as he leans forward to his just beside your navel. You flinch and glance down.

“You’re beautiful, honey, you shouldn’t be so shy,” he says, “all done, sit.”

You obey and he finishes up the bath, helping you stand before wrapping you up in a soft towel. He pats you dry and moisturises your skin with the fragrant strawberry lotion. This time, he makes you walk back to the room with him.

As you consider the dress, he goes to his dresser and slides out a drawer. He comes to the bed and drops something else. You stare at the white panties and bra, see-through and speckled with little hearts.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says as he touches the front of his shirt, damp from the tub, “I’ll change too.”

You bite your lip and keep your chin down. You touch the dress, staring at the underwear, mortified at the thought of wearing those. Why can’t you wear something comfortable? Why can’t you be you? Why can’t he love you as you?

🕊️

Andy said Steve is coming. You don’t dare ask when as the conversation about your tablet looms over you. You don’t want him to think anything bad of the doctor. It’s not his fault, you’re just stupid.

You put your energy into following the precise instructions printed out before you. All the ingredients are set out neatly for you. It’s all manageable, even for you.

In the next room, the TV blares with the commentators on the NFL pre-game. Andy paces in and out, as if checking on you, or maybe he’s restless. You start peeling the sweet potatoes as he comes in again, looking at his watch.

“Dr. Kemp said he’d bring dessert,” Andy says, “I bought a pie just in case. If he isn’t here in the next hour, we’ll take it out of the freezer.”

“Okay,” you agree as you drag the peeler over the bumpy potato.

“You must be excited, huh, dove?”

“Um, sure, I… I like Thanksgiving. Lots of food,” you smile, you’re getting better at that. “Um, yeah.”

“What?” He tilts his head, his hands going to his hips. Oh no, he’s mad. Again.

“N-nothing, I didn’t…” you look away, “nothing.”

“It’s just Steve,” he shrugs, “I don’t have family. You know, if you bothered to ask, you might realise we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

You chew your cheek and focus on stripping the orange potato. You never did ask. You didn’t think you should. It feels nosy so it’s not that you never wondered or cared, you just don’t know what’s right.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“For?”

“For not asking. Sorry that you’re alone too,” you grab the next potato.

“Not anymore, dove, we got each other, right?” He chirps, “anyway, before you get too deep into that, you should really do the snacks first. Can’t watch football without munchies.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t think…” you put the potato down and wipe your hands on the dish towel on the counter.

“Wait, wait,” he goes by the fridge and unhooks an apron hanging on the other side. “You don’t want to dirty up that pretty dress.”

“Uh, good idea.”

He puts the top strap over your head, tugging it down snug to your neck. He signals you to turn and you do. He steps close, reaching around you as he smooth the front and drags his hands to the thinner straps behind you. He ties them slowly, tickling your lower back through the dress.

“Let me see,” he steps back.

You face him and he admires you. You look down at the floral fabric with a large bow at the waist. It looks almost like a vintage dress on its own. You straighten your arms and sway as he purrs.

“That looks so good on you,” he steps closer and you plant your feet, resisting the urge to retreat. “Makes me wanna eat you up.”

Your chest racks with panic as he advances on you. He corners you against the counter as he flutters his fingers along the ruffled edge of the apron. You watch his hands creep up the fabric and gulp. Oh, again? Here? You thought you were safe.

“We got time,” his hands close on your hips, “just a little taste.”

You yelp as he takes you off your feet, perching you on the counter. Your ass knocks a bowl across the island and you brace the granite for balance. He pushes your knees apart and steps between them. You're paralysed as he cups your chin, tilting your head back as he kisses you. Suddenly.

He clamps his hand around the back of your neck, locking you against him. His other hand trails down your leg, stopping at your knee and crawling back up. He slips beneath the apron and your skirt, tendrils radiating from his touch. Your muscles spasm as you gasp.

He parts from your lips, kissing your jaw and neck, nibbling and moaning as his fingertips inch towards the trim of your panties. The cool air slips beneath your dress and through the thin fabric. You shudder as you close your eyes, trying to bury yourself inside.

“Mmmm, dove,” he shifts and nuzzles your chest.

He slowly gets to his knees, holding your legs apart as he pecks along your skin. You whimper as he edges towards your skirt, his breath dampening your thigh. He hums and pinches you with his teeth.

“Delicious,” he pokes his head under your skirt, a sudden ding breaking your trance.

He retracts, sitting back on his heels as the doorbell echoes through the house. You look down at him as he closes his eyes and grimaces. He shakes his head and pushes himself up to his feet, grunting as he stands.

“Great timing, as always,” he scoffs.

He struts out, his chagrin obvious in his posture. You push off the counter, landing awkwardly on your feet, tweaking your ankle slightly. You go to the doorway, peeking around into the hall but not daring to venture out.

Andy rolls his shoulders as he stops by the door. He heaves a breath as the doorbell chimes again. He turns back the latch and twists the handle, pulling it back.

“Andrew,” Kemp’s voice booms into the entryway, “Happy Thanksgiving!” You can’t help the way your heart topturns at his familiar timbre, “brought dessert.”

“What is she doing here?” Andy growls.

“Thanksgiving is for family, Andrew, and her family is here,” Kemp insists.

“No, I didn’t invite her–”

“Where is she?” The unseen ‘her’ asks. Your mouth falls open. Amber? “Let me see her.”

You rush forward without thinking. No fear, no doubt, you just want to see your sister. You scurry down the hall and brush by Andy, elbowing him as he reaches to stop you. You burst out through the doorway and crash into Amber, wrapping your arms around her.

You don’t owe Lloyd the truth. The more you think about it, you barely really know him. And he said it himself, it’s just sex. Good sex. The best sex you’ve had, not that you have much to compare it to. So fuck your feelings, as he’d so eloquently proclaim.

Scones first. You’ve settled on a white chocolate and cranberry, but think that might be better kept until the festive season. You’re still in the throes of fall so the pumpkin walnut squares will like be the bigger hit. Oh, and the maple croissants. If you have time, you might experiment with some apple caramel creation too.

You prop your phone against the wall at the back of the counter. You put your music on a low din, keeping a base recipe open as you begin your first bowl of batter. The flour puffs out of the bake and dusts your shirt. Too late to remember the apron.

You add the rest of the dry ingredients and carefully stir. You bought a whole set of mixing bowls after you noticed Lloyd’s lack of essentials. You’ll see if you can expense that out with the ingredients. Your surprise might not go over well for your wallet.

You add the butter and carefully mix it in until crumbly. You put that in the fridge and start on the wet ingredients, humming as you focus on the little tasks. It’s easier than thinking of anything else.

Your fatigue nips at your eyelids. It’s been a long day and with all this ahead of you, it’ll be a longer night. You yawn and flick your wrist, whisking the cream and eggs diligently. You feel something tickle up your back before two hands settle on your hips. 

You lurch in fright and still the whisk as Lloyd leans into you, peeking over your head. He drones and rubs his crotch against your ass. He clicks his tongue as he brings his hands up to fondle your chest.

“You’re making another mess,” he says as he flicks the bag of sugar, “Really living up to the whole sugar tits thing.”

“Oh, I’ll clean it up,” you try to ignore how he kneads your tits.

“Hope this isn’t all for me,” he growls.

“Actually, no,” your pulse piques as you summon your preconceived lie, “it’s for the kids. At the daycare. Just doing something nice.”

“Mmm, you’re so nice, Mimi,” he lilts his tone mockingly, “you wanna be nice to me, mommy?”

“Lloyd,” you push your elbow back into his side, “please. Later.”

He exhales, ot breath fanning over your scalp. He bends to nuzzle your head, gritting in his throat. “I’m not asking.”

You stiffen and grip the whisk, putting it back into motion.

“I’ll be done in a bit, I really can’t let this rest–”

“Something’s up. You’re not telling me something…” he brings his hand back to your waist.

“I’m baking. What would I lie about?”

“Come on,” he grinds into you, “you know our deal.”

“It can’t wait?” You clang the whisk off the side of the bowl.

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m tired of waiting and lately, you’ve been making me do a lot of that.”

He pulls you back and you let go of the whisk as it clinks against the metal. He leads you back as you latch onto his wrists, trying not to lose your balance. He spins you to face the island and crushes you against it.

“Lloyd,” you squeeze his forearms, “you’re being… pushy. Please, let me at least put everything away–”

“No,” he snarls and twists free of your grasp.

He grabs your wrists and brings your hands up to the marble countertop. He presses your palms flat under his large and leans his weight on you, a warning. Suddenly, you’re all too aware of his strength and size.

He nuzzles behind your ear as he growls again, “don’t move, mimi.”

“Lloyd,” you push your fingertips into the marble and try to shove yourself back. 

He keeps you penned in as he trails a hand up your arm. You reach up to follow his touch, brushing your fingers along his bicep as he curls it around your neck. You raise your chin to keep from being strangled. What the hell is he doing?

“Please, give me some space,” you feel the panic surge in your veins, so hot it beads over your brow, “I’m a bit claustro–”

He hushes you as he flexes his bicep against your neck. You gulp as your eyes round and you stare at the pristine walls. You shudder in horror as your powerlessness sets in. Not only in that moment. This man holds your life in his closed fist.

“I won’t be long, sugar tits,” his other hand creeps back and he feels along your side and hip. He curls his fingers beneath the back of your pants and tugs, yanking harshly until the button pops loose. “Something about the whole mother hen shit gets me going.”

“Lloyd,” you eke out, eyes wetting as you quiver, “please, I don’t want this right now.”

“That’s too fucking bad. That’s not our deal.”

“Wha– No–”

“Shhh,” he forces your pants down roughly as he kicks your feet apart, “if you’re not screaming my name, keep your mouth shut.”

Your body locks up in terror. You can’t make a noise, you can’t move as he peels down your panties. You’re trapped in the heat of his body and the crush of his weight. This can’t be happening.

You close your eyes, blocking out the kitchen, trying to tune out your reality. Your ears zero in on the low drone of music still buzzing from your phone.