Screaming, Crying, Perfect Storms

You had joined the X-Men a few years ago. You are a strong mutant with the gift of power mimicry. If you were in the proximity of another mutant, you could take on their powers if you wanted. This made you a huge threat to Erik when your teams were up against each other. He couldn't stand it. You could take anything he threw at you and give it back tenfold. You had gone toe to toe with him countless times over the years.

Now with the Sentinels threatening the existence of mutant kind, the X-Men and the Brotherhood of Mutants were teaming up. Erik and his crew are staying at the X-Mansion for the time being. It was hard to get used to at first. But both teams had slowly gotten used to each other, with the exception of you and Erik.

You were always at each other's throats. It's a constant battle of wills. You argued over everything. There was always so much tension between you. The air practically crackled with electricity any time you were in the same room. Tonight was no different. After another long battle, everyone was back at the X-Mansion. Erik stomped after you as you walk to your room.

"I told you to stay by my side so you could mimic my powers." Erik growls, his expression cold and teeth bared. He grabs your wrist to stop you from going inside. "Erik, I was fighting and we got separated. That's not my fault." You roll your eyes as you open the door to your room. "I told you to call me Magneto." He follows you inside your room, his mission suit ripped, his face dirty from the battle.

"When have I ever listened to you?" You put your hands on your hips, ready to square up with the Master of Magnetism. His light eyes meet yours and heat flares in your stomach. Damn him and his stupid handsome face. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, not wanting him to know how much he affects you. "I can't wait until this truce is over, so I don't have to see you all the time." You're pouting now. Erik smirks. "You're a terrible liar, love." With a flick of his wrist, your bedroom door slams shut.

"You know, Charles asked me to stop fighting with you." Erik takes a step closer, the space between you nearly nonexistent. You look at him suspiciously. "Why would he do that?" You can't think with him standing so close. You can feel the heat of him through his clothes. You shouldn't want him this badly. Sure, your teams were in a truce for now. But it would end eventually. Then he would go right back to being your enemy.

“Charles thinks it’s bad for our little forced team. If we are always fighting, he’s afraid The Brotherhood will start acting out too.” You roll your eyes. “Monkey see, monkey do” You quip. Erik grins. “Precisely. So love, I have an idea to quell all this tension between us.” His voice drops to that low timbre, chills cover your body. You can’t help it. He’s older, handsome, a villain. The man is a huge threat to humankind and yet here you are, panties wet just from the proximity.

You bite your bottom lip. You know you’ll regret even entertaining whatever crazy idea he has, but the words just slip out. “Well let’s hear it then.” You put your hands back on your hips, willing the attraction you’re feeling to go away. He presses himself against you, hard muscles against your soft form. Your breath hitches slightly. “I propose we hate fuck. I know you want me. I can see it clearly. Your eyes dilate when I’m near. The hitch in your breath when I stand too close gives you away.” The hum of metal goes through the air as he uses his powers to pull on your belt, drawing you closer.

“Hate fuck? I’m sure that is not what Charles had in mind, Erik.” You can’t believe the audacity of this man. A grin spreads on his devilishly handsome face. “I told you, my name is Magneto.” He places a large hand on your back. “And, that’s where you’re wrong, my sweet. Charles can read minds. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and yet, he didn’t object to the idea.” You were sure Charles didn’t think about Erik proposing this. Erik had a point though, Charles didn’t say no, but still this is Magneto. Sensing your hesitation, he brushes a stray hair from your face. “Just this once, darling. It will help, I promise. I’ll make it good for you.”

What little resolve you have shatters. His ripped suit and dirty appearance was undoubtedly sexy. You had no doubt that he would make it good for you. “Fine, but if you tell anyone, I’ll make you regret it.” You warn him, but he’s unbothered. Using his powers to move you with your belt buckle, he flings you effortlessly onto your bed. “I don’t kiss and tell, love.” He smirks as he climbs on top of you. His hands move to his helmet. He begins to take it off when you grab his arms. “The helmet stays on.”

His light eyes darken at your words. Erik leans down, lips crashing into yours. It’s not soft or sweet, not like the kisses you were used to. He did say this was hate fucking after all. You grab at his suit, trying to take it off. He breaks the kiss to pepper more along your jaw and down your neck. You gasp when he bites near your collarbone. You weren’t used to this. You had a few boyfriends who made love to you, but they weren’t this rough. Erik was just taking what he wanted. “Ah, ah, ah.” He scolds you. “If the helmet stays on, so does the suit.”

Erik holds a hand out, his powers searching for something when the pocket knife you left on your night stand flies over to him. His mouth returns to your neck, both hands holding your hips to keep you from wiggling too much. The pocket knife moves to the top of your super suit under the control of his powers. It slices through the black spandex, cutting right down the middle. Once you’re just in your bra and panties, Erik throws your tattered suit to the floor.

The knife presses against your chest. The cold metal blade is a stark contrast to your heated skin. You jump at the contact. Erik holds you down harder. “Stay still, love. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt, would we?” He teases you as the knife slices your bra. Erik throws it to the side. He takes you in: your exposed breasts, your chest heaving, your wide eyes. He growls as he lowers his face to your breast, taking a peaked nipple between his lips. His other hand rolls your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger while his powers move the knife over your torso. The jagged blade travels down your stomach making your breath hitch.

You try to be still, but it’s all so sensual. Him on top of you, the knife, the thrill of it, the fact that he’s your enemy. He stops for a second, glaring at you. “I said to hold still.” He snaps. He looks around your room, a wicked smile on his lips. He manipulates your iron headboard, the sides coming down to wrap around your wrists. You gasp as your arms are brought above your head. You could use your powers to remove it if you wanted. You both knew that, but you wouldn’t.

Your footboard captures your ankles at his command, spreading your legs. The sharp edge of the knife glides against your skin, pressing just hard enough to remind you that he could hurt you if he wanted. His teeth graze your nipple as the knife slices your panties, leaving you bare in front of him. He grins against your breast before sitting up to get a good look at you. He loves how you look under him. Your eyes are dark with lust. Your hands above your head, confined with your own headboard. You really are beautiful. He hates to admit it, even if only in his thoughts. You were always running your mouth, fighting with him over any little grievance. But now, he has all the control. The hum of his powers fill the room.

Erik grabs your ripped panties out from under you. He notices your other discarded clothing, but instead of tossing the panties on top of the pile, he gets an idea. “Open.” He commands, one hand on your face, squeezing your cheeks. His thumb and forefinger on either side of your mouth pressing your cheeks against your teeth. You do as you’re told without thinking about it. You should be ashamed, letting him boss you around like this. The man had been kept in a high security prison under The Pentagon for almost ten years for crying out loud. But shame is the last thing on your mind when you look into his light eyes. You open your mouth and he stuffs your panties inside. “Good girl.” He smiles, clearly pleased with himself, now that he had you restrained and quiet for what he assumed was the first time in your life.

Erik leans down biting your inner thigh, the knife now set aside. His cold helmet touches the top of your thigh causing you to shiver. He moves his hand, making the footboard spread you obscenely wide for him. You whimper, but it’s muffled by your panties. “What was that, darling?” He asks, and you can feel the satisfied smirk against your leg. His mouth seals over you, licking through your heat, plump lips sealing over your clit. You ache to clamp your legs around his helmet covered head to keep him there, but your makeshift restraints keep your legs apart.

He fucks you with his tongue, drinking you down while his nose glides against your clit. You hate how he already knows how to make you writhe under him. Your legs shake as buries his face against you. He moans as he grips your thighs, tongue swirling in intricate patterns the devil himself designed. He lifts his head, his dirty, ruggedly handsome face glistens, covered in you. He reaches up to take your panties out of your mouth, throwing them to the floor without care. “I want to hear what you sound like when you come for me.” He goes back to his meal. His lips tug on your clit. With a flick of his wrist, your footboard contorts back to its normal shape, freeing you. You rest your legs on his shoulders immediately, crossing your legs and pulling him closer with your heels.

He groans as he drags his tongue over you slowly, teasing you. “Erik please?” You beg him, hating yourself for it as soon as the words leave your mouth. You know he will throw this in your face the next argument you have. Erik pauses, “You know that’s not my name, love.” He says against you, his words vibrating along your core. This asshole! The absolute nerve he had to make you call him Magneto. Of course you knew he preferred to be called that. But nothing made you happier than pissing him off, so you called him Erik. The only time you even thought the name was in the middle of the night with images of him putting you through the mattress in your head and your hand between your thighs. He was going to make you say it or he wouldn’t let you come. You knew it, knew him well enough by now.

He swirls his wicked tongue expertly on your clit working you up higher and higher. “Erik!” You gasp, jerking against your headboard’s iron hold on your wrists. He flips you to your side, arms pulling against your headboard handcuffs. You squeak as you’re rolled over, his mouth never leaving you. You’re right there, so close it’s palpable. Then the insufferable jackass stops, his hands and mouth leaving you feeling cold and wanting. “I told you that’s not my name, love.” He lays his head on your inner thigh, pressing a soft kiss to your satiny skin. You groan, “I hate you so much!” He scoffs against your thigh, “I told you, you’re a terrible liar, darling. You love when I put my hands on you. You were just begging me when I had my mouth on the sweetest thing my villainous mouth will ever have the pleasure to taste. And you will be screaming my name when you come on my cock. Magneto.” He growls, his little outburst setting your skin on fire. He moves you so your back is against the mattress. He fixes his gaze on you, “Say it.” He commands.

Damn him. He looks incredible like this. His light eyes blazing with intensity, wild, unhinged, a little deranged. You shiver, you have only seen him look like this once. You were fighting, giving it everything you had. He pressed you up against an abandoned building away from the fight. He looked just like this. His nose had brushed against yours. Your breaths mingling and hearts beating rapidly. You had been so sure he was going to kiss you. Worst of all, you had wanted him to. He put his hand on your face angling you how he wanted. Just when he barely brushed his bottom lip against yours, Logan came flying through the building, sending bricks and debris soaring. The Blob had thrown him over here. Just your luck. Neither of you ever mentioned that moment, pretending it never happened.

He was looking at you with the same raw intensity now. “Beg me to give you my cock. Use my name.” That smug bastard. You’d rather makeout with Toad than to beg him again. But you were aching for him. You’d take it to your grave, but you needed him. You swallow thickly, your pride and the lump in your throat leaving. “Please give me your cock, Magneto?” He smiles triumphantly. “Again.” You keep his gaze as he unbuttons his pants, “Please can I have your cock, Magneto?” His name is barely past your lips when he slams into you. Your back arches up into him, your restraints keeping your hands above your head. You take a deep breath, trying to adjust to the thick length of him. He lifts your leg higher, setting it on his shoulder. He’s even deeper at this angle. He was hitting spots that made your head swim. His brutal thrusts push you up the bed. What’s left of your bed post bangs against the wall with force.

Erik brings his hand down between you, calloused thumb rubbing circles against your clit. You clench around him, your orgasm surging through you like lightning. “Magneto!” You cry out as he drives into you, his thrusts just as vicious as he is. Your body tightens around him, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he fucks you on himself. “So tight. So perfect.” He praises, burying his head into the side of your neck, his helmet cooling your skin. “Fuck.” He moans as he spills himself inside you. He presses a gentle kiss to your neck, trying to catch his breath. You use your powers to manipulate your headboard into its normal shape. You wiggle your arms, Erik sits up capturing your wrists. He looks them over, turning them to see if you were hurt. He kisses each wrist. This tender side of him a stark contrast to the rough way he just fucked you. He grabs your face, thumb caressing your cheek. “If you argue with me tomorrow, I’ll bend you over the table in the War Room in front of both our teams, consequences be damned.” He growls, the unhinged look in his eyes, tells you he means it. “What happened to this being a one time thing?” You tease him. “Darling, we both know this was never going to be a one time thing” He nips your ear playfully. You smile, thinking of all the ways you’re going to provoke him tomorrow.

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(Banner and dividers are made by me)

You were fine. At least you thought so. Dazed, sure. But otherwise unscathed. One minute you were scanning a warehouse for intel, the next rubble was falling all around you, and now you were pressed against Steve Rogers who was treating you like the walking wounded. You glanced around the confined space. Your bodies had created a cocoon of concrete at your backs. Steve’s shield caused the rock to form a makeshift roof. You were in a cave of your own creation. Your protector continued to check you for injuries, his breathing rate slowing down when he found none. You regained your faculties when a strong hand rested gently on the side of your face.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper now. Softer.

“I’m okay, Steve. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah...” You observed your surroundings and suddenly became aware of your palm pressed against his chest, your small, delicate hands a contrast to the dusty Kevlar fabric of his uniform. “Oh... sorry.” You jerked your hand away from him as though his stealth suit were a hot pan.

“S’okay.... not exactly much room in here.”

“Cap this is Sam.... come in, do you read me?” The crackle of the CommsLink stirred you both. Steve responded, updating the Falcon on your status. It was a rogue missile, Sam informed you both. But he knew exactly where you were. Rescue was coming.

“How long?” Steve asked, noticing the grimace on your face.

“Thirty minutes at least. An hour, tops.”

Steve nodded and verbally affirmed he understood. But he remained frowning, his eyes on your contorted face.

“It’s gonna be okay, English.”

“I know, I just.... confined spaces and all that.”

“I know. I know....”

The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was his sympathetic expression. Behind your eyelids your mind conjured images of training. Tactical drills, physical challenges, gathering intel, resistance to interrogation, you name it, you had nailed it all. Crawling through pipes and claustrophobic concrete was the only chink in your armour. Steve remembered it as well as you did.

All you could do was wait and try to stay calm. If you didn’t, Steve’s sage words of wisdom would cut through the air, vague reassurances with obvious yet essential commands. “We gotta stay calm. Just breathe. You’re doing great.”

You wanted to avoid that if possible. Only a year out of training and a solid reputation behind you with the UK’s Ministry of Defence. You weren’t about to throw it all away for a panic attack in a cave.

You allowed your mind to wander to pass the time. It started with your senses, touch being the most obvious one. Your body was pressed up hard against Cap. There were women with less integrity than you who would kill to be in your position. Not that there was an ugly member of the Avengers. Being hot was an extra superpower, it seemed. Dazzle the enemy with your gorgeousity before striking them with lightning. But as far as handsome goes, the man pressed against you had clearly fell out of the genetic jackpot tree and hit every branch on the way down. The serum was obviously sorcery.

You clocked him immediately on your first day of training, muscular forearms crossed over a white t-shirt causing huge biceps to bulge. He was impossibly gorgeous. One of those men who looked almost cheesy in photographs, easy to mock and laugh about with your friends, but in person he knocked the air from your lungs. Angled jaw, perfect blond hair, broad shoulders set above a strong chest and a seriously slim waist. And he was tall. So tall. He also smelled great literally all the time, which didn’t help things. A simple, strong, expensive yet inoffensive cologne was incredibly on-brand and maddeningly distracting.

You hated how he affected you and you worked harder than everyone else to prove you weren’t just another airhead wanting a place on the team and a place next to the gorgeous living legend. That wasn’t you. But, you had eyes.

Bloodied hands, sweaty stealth suits and many nights crying over the stress of it all, and eventually it paid off. You were on the team. Barely a fortnight went by before a realisation hit you in the face – Steve Rogers was as good on the inside as he was on the outside. Sure, he was patient during training, encouraging yet fair, and he was driven by duty and purpose. That was obvious. It was the smaller moments you noticed most. Dropping to one knee and tying Natasha’s runners for her when she pulled her calf muscle and had to leave training early. Hugging Thor when he missed his brother. Brewing coffee for the team on a Sunday – cooking wasn’t his thing, he admitted, so it was the least he could do.

And the night he came back in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin from a run, verbal jabs already flying from you all as he squelched through the common area with jogging bottoms and a t-shirt that looked as though it had been painted onto his muscular body. Until you all noticed he was holding something in his arms. A black labrador puppy, just as wet as he was, Steve’s large arm having attempted and failed at shielding the stray from the rain.

“He was shaking by the dumpster out back, poor little guy!” His trademark compassion married with a boyish giddiness at finding a tiny new friend. He flinched slightly when he looked up and noticed your presence. You were new. You weren’t a trusted colleague yet. He felt as though you had just seen him naked.

You jumped up and fetched a towel to dry him and a blanket to lay on. The dog, that is, not the super soldier. Clint jogged to the fridge and fished out some fresh roasted chicken. And Thor slowly approached the little dog, the God’s eyes teary, as he declared, “We shall call him Loki.” It took the blond a week or two to accept the pup was in fact a dog and not his brother in animal form.

Yeah. Steve Rogers was an angel. And the more you saw the soft heart underneath his red, white and blue suit, the more lightheaded you felt in his presence. Gorgeous, compassionate and genuine with ironclad integrity. How were you supposed to resist that?

Allowing your mind to bathe in blissful memories killed a little time, though you were catapulted into the present by a sensation you simply could not ignore. It pressed into your hipbone. You cleared your throat.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re, erm... you’re hard.”

“I know.” He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, paused for four seconds, then let out a breath through taught lips. Box breathing. You learned it from him in training. After two minutes of breathing exercises, he regained his physical composure. Your hipbone wouldn’t bruise, it seemed.

“You know, it’s really okay... for what it’s worth, I felt a little worked up too. Any woman would be, pressed up against you.” You hoped your awkward chuckle and statement of truth would generalise your arousal. You were right – any woman would feel a certain way.

His pause was longer this time. “I know, English.”

A weight seemed to drop out of your stomach. You summoned all your courage and looked up at him. “What do you mean, you know?”

“Well, my err.....” he gestured vaguely to his mouth and nose. “My senses are dialled up to a hundred. You know, after the serum.” He looked down and met your eyes. “So I, err.... I can tell.”

“You can.... tell?”

“Yeah. I can, err...” He looked down, a light blush dusting his cheekbones. “I can, you know, smell you.”

Smell me??

Mercifully it was dark enough in that cave to disguise your own blushing. You feared the entire cavern would light up with the red beacon on your face. You swallowed. “You mean, because we’re so close right now. Right?”

Steve’s dramatic pauses persisted. “Not exactly.”

Oh God.

He knew, didn’t he. Every time. Every damn time you had been turned on by his mere presence, thinking you were embodying nonchalance and a stellar work ethic, he fucking knew. Your mind flashed like a slideshow with memories of thirsting over Steve, from initial training to nights in the tower to missions together. You couldn't stop yourself from making a sound of mortification. The groan didn’t stand a chance.

The cave fell silent. Then the chuckling started.

“Are you fucking laughing at me, Rogers??”

“No, no...” He covered his mouth and grinned, still chortling to himself.

“Oh, my God, you’re an asshole.....” You elbowed him, then mustered a Russian accent to quote your favourite hockey show. “Everyone must know this. Everybody, Steve Rogers is an asshole!”

“You and that goddamn show!”

“What? It’s hot!”

Steve shook his head, recalling the nights you and Natasha watched Heated Rivalry together. “No it isn’t. You’re hot.”

“What, no it’s - ” You stopped defending your show and looked him dead in the eyes. “Hang on, what did you say?”

His eyes roamed to your lips and back up again. “You heard me, English.” You weren’t imagining it, his voice had dropped a level. You swallowed hard.

Your hand found its way back to his chest. Your breathing quickened and you felt the seat of your underwear dampen. His lips parted. Your gazes were held together by invisible strings of honey, never leaving each other. Slowly, he tilted his head to one side, assessing the situation like a military operation, with one distinct difference. You felt his cock press into your hip once more.

“Steve....”

“We can’t.” He shook his head sadly, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, we’re colleagues. I get it, I – ”

“No, we physically can’t - there isn’t enough room to swing a cat in here!”

You laughed and as your chuckles subsided he took your hand, which had been resting on his chest and he slid it up behind his neck, massaging at the tense muscles.

“So you’re saying it’s a challenge then.” You cocked your head and smirked. “What, you think I’m not up to it?”

He looked down at you, nostrils flared, and it was the last thing you saw before he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you, hard and desperate. His body pressed into yours and he groaned into your mouth as he snaked a hand around your lower back to pull you even tighter against him. His body was firm and strong, that damn cologne invading your senses as he kissed the last scraps of sense from you.

Without warning Steve jerked his mouth from you and pressed his back into the wall. Satisfied, he pushed the wall behind you with his palms. “It won’t budge. We’re good.” As he talked, he reached his hand behind your ear and switched your CommsLink to ‘receive only’ mode. He clicked his own earpiece a milisecond later.

It was as close to an invitation as he would give, and it was enough to prompt you to scramble up the tangles of toppled concrete and find a foothold. You rested a hand on his shoulder and another on the rock as you got into position, bringing your hips level with his. He assisted by grabbing your ass and holding you in place. “You’re so fuckin’ good, baby.” He was horny and impressed by your ingenuity. Didn't get much better than that.

“Can you unzip your suit from here?”

You pressed both hands into his shoulders, needing to steady yourself. You look down at your black suit, covered in grey dust. “I dunno, I.... I need help...”

“Got it.” His fingers found your zipper and before he pulled down, he waited and whispered to you. “You sure this is okay?”

“I’m sure that if we don’t do this I’ll be salty about it forever.”

“Alright.... alright....”

His voice trailed off and his eyes smouldered, any scrap of the dutiful soldier gone. In its place, a man driven by pure need. He maintained eye contact as he unzipped your black tactical suit and slid it from your shoulders, leaving you exposed in your black underwear. He pulled the zip all the way down past your pubis. The backs of his hands brushed past the damp seat of your underwear. He felt shivers of pleasure roll over his shoulders and down his back.

You bit your lip as you eyed him hungrily. He was covered in dust and concrete, face filthy with evidence of his heroics. You scraped dramatically at the chest of his stealth suit, desperate for access to his skin. He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry baby. It won’t come off easy. I can unzip, though.” He stroked your cheek with a softness unfitting of fucking you senseless in a dusty cave. “Would that be okay? Hmm?” Your last braincell left your skull as he inserted a grimy thumb into your mouth and you sucked on it. “Ohh, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You began fumbling with his leather tactical belt, muttering, “I can’t wait, Steve. I’m sorry, I can’t.” The hardening of his cock told you he didn’t object to his tactical belt hastily falling to the ground. As you unbuttoned his tactical pants and moved the stiff fabric to one side to access his zipper, he hoisted you up, both hands under your ass cheeks. You groaned as curtains of kevlar fabric parted to reveal a hard dick encased in tight black Calvins. “Ffffuck, Steve.....” You palmed his cock through the cotton.

“Move ‘em down.” When you tried and failed over the course of the next two seconds, he tore at the fabric to give you better access. You pulled the flap of cotton to one side and placed your hand around his perfect, long hard cock, stroking him from the base to the head. He squirmed under your touch as you teased the head with your thumb.

His eyes were blown wide, already out of it. He rested the weight of you on one palm and his bicep bulged under the pressure, as one strong hand moved your panties to the side. “This okay?” he asked breathlessly as he returned his hand underneath your arse and positioned you above his cock. Crumbled concrete crunched under your knees as you pushed them into the rock to steady yourself. You reached up and cupped the back of his head, his hair gritty with dust. “Please Steve, I need you....”

“I know, baby. I know....” He whispered so gently as he carefully lowered you down onto his hard shaft, coaxing a gasp from your throat. He cursed. It was too much, the combination of feeling your warmth around him and the sight of your mouth wide open, veins pulsing in your neck as you tilted your head back. His first thrust faltered as he felt you become even more wet. Two leather straps in front of your sightline stared at you and you grabbed them, using his shield holster as handles. The feeling of you tugging at him made him curse again. He took control, moving you up and down, hands under your ass, guiding you, thrusting you up and down as you held onto his leather straps, face buried into dusty navy blue.

He was big. Not offensively so. But he filled you so perfectly with each deliberate, firm, careful lower onto his shaft. You hung onto those two straps of leather as he controlled your movements.

“Steve, can you hear me? It’s Sam.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ shitting me.” Steve’s voice was gruff, genuinely irritated by the interruption. You laughed and told him to ignore it. Instead he instructed you to be quiet and, when you struggled, advised you to clamp your mouth around his leather shield straps. You shot him an incredulous look as a dusty leather glove elevated to his ear. Click.

“Sam. I’m here.”

“We’re twenty minutes out from your location. Hang in there.”

“Got it.”

“Any injuries?”

“No. No, we’re err... we’re fine. Both of us.”

There was a pause from Sam. “...You sure?”

Steve faltered. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

His bicep began to twitch. Holding you up with one hand wasn’t easy, even with his enhanced strength. You helped him by getting a foothold near his hip, changing your position so you had one knee and one boot steading your slutty form straddled either side him. The new angle caused you to move further up his dick and slide past the head, making him hiss.

“Your breathing, Cap. The air....” Sam shouted instructions at Romanoff to ‘step on it.’ “Be there in 15. Hang in there. Over.”

“Received. Over.” Steve clicked his earpiece back to receive only. You removed your face from his chest, teeth long since parted with his holster, and cocked your head.

“Great, now they think we’re dying from lack of oxygen.”

He quirked his lips. “I’m dyin’ of somethin’.”

You spurted a laugh. “Come on, we only have 15 minutes.”

“Thanks for thinkin’ there’s a chance I’ll last that long....” He kissed you urgently, grabbing you by the arse again and sliding you back onto his dick. It forced a moan from you and he chuckled, but it felt every bit as divine to him too.

You maintained your position, your foothold giving you leverage and control as you grabbed his holster straps again and swung off them, grateful his suit came with a built-in sex swing. He growled, the sensation overwhelming him. You were climbing him like a tree in the limited space you had. And you were so tight around him, so hot, so wet....

“I always fuckin’ knew you’d feel this good honey, fuck....”

Your mouth covered his neck in wet kisses lacking finesse as the reality of the situation hit you. You were getting railed by Steve Rogers in a cave in a life-or-death situation which straddled your deepest phobia. He was covered in dust and grime and wearing his stealth suit, open just enough to give his cock enough room to fuck you. He smelled of sex, sweat and that damn collogne. Heat rose through your body and your climax raced through you, coming with a loud moan as you tilted your head back in ecstasy.

“Fffffffuck, Steve....”

“Yeah, yeah honey... oh fuckkkkkkk.....”

He spurted his release inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he came with an animalistic groan, his climax lasting longer than you expected, longer than was typical or normal. Of course. Even his orgasms were stronger than the average man.

His head flopped back against the wall, eyes closed, forehead sticky with sweat. You rested against his chest and he held you against him as your heartrates settled back into rhythm. Once he was sure you were okay – after asking several times and checking you over, he helped lower you back to the ground and zip you back up. He glanced down at his own state of undress and found a shred of fabric where his underwear used to be. His sigh melted into a light laugh and he ripped the remainder of the garment off and put the scraps of material in a pocket in his tactical pants. You found this hilarious. “Honey, just don’t,” he warned, though he smiled and his tone held no malice.

When he had zipped his dick up behind its Kevlar prison, he smoothed down your hair, thick with grit, and offered a soft smile. “You know, we should get trapped in a collapsed building more often.”

“It was hot, I’m not gonna lie.”

“It was so fuckin’ hot.” He kissed your forehead. You turned and noticed leather on the dusty ground. Neither of you could reach it.

“We might have to explain why your tactical belt is on the floor.”

“It got blown off during the blast.” His tone, suddenly serious and professional, made you laugh.

“Course it did.” You sighed. “And hey. At least I haven’t had a panic attack.” It was too late to take the words back. But the two of you were way past formalities.

You were fine. At least you thought so. Dazed, sure. But otherwise unscathed. One minute you were scanning a warehouse for intel, the next rubble was falling all around you, and now you were pressed against Steve Rogers who was treating you like the walking wounded. You glanced around the confined space. Your bodies had created a cocoon of concrete at your backs. Steve’s shield caused the rock to form a makeshift roof. You were in a cave of your own creation. Your protector continued to check you for injuries, his breathing rate slowing down when he found none. You regained your faculties when a strong hand rested gently on the side of your face.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper now. Softer.

“I’m okay, Steve. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah...” You observed your surroundings and suddenly became aware of your palm pressed against his chest, your small, delicate hands a contrast to the dusty Kevlar fabric of his uniform. “Oh... sorry.” You jerked your hand away from him as though his stealth suit were a hot pan.

“S’okay.... not exactly much room in here.”

“Cap this is Sam.... come in, do you read me?” The crackle of the CommsLink stirred you both. Steve responded, updating the Falcon on your status. It was a rogue missile, Sam informed you both. But he knew exactly where you were. Rescue was coming.

“How long?” Steve asked, noticing the grimace on your face.

“Thirty minutes at least. An hour, tops.”

Steve nodded and verbally affirmed he understood. But he remained frowning, his eyes on your contorted face.

“It’s gonna be okay, English.”

“I know, I just.... confined spaces and all that.”

“I know. I know....”

The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was his sympathetic expression. Behind your eyelids your mind conjured images of training. Tactical drills, physical challenges, gathering intel, resistance to interrogation, you name it, you had nailed it all. Crawling through pipes and claustrophobic concrete was the only chink in your armour. Steve remembered it as well as you did.

All you could do was wait and try to stay calm. If you didn’t, Steve’s sage words of wisdom would cut through the air, vague reassurances with obvious yet essential commands. “We gotta stay calm. Just breathe. You’re doing great.”

You wanted to avoid that if possible. Only a year out of training and a solid reputation behind you with the UK’s Ministry of Defence. You weren’t about to throw it all away for a panic attack in a cave.

You allowed your mind to wander to pass the time. It started with your senses, touch being the most obvious one. Your body was pressed up hard against Cap. There were women with less integrity than you who would kill to be in your position. Not that there was an ugly member of the Avengers. Being hot was an extra superpower, it seemed. Dazzle the enemy with your gorgeousity before striking them with lightning. But as far as handsome goes, the man pressed against you had clearly fell out of the genetic jackpot tree and hit every branch on the way down. The serum was obviously sorcery.

You clocked him immediately on your first day of training, muscular forearms crossed over a white t-shirt causing huge biceps to bulge. He was impossibly gorgeous. One of those men who looked almost cheesy in photographs, easy to mock and laugh about with your friends, but in person he knocked the air from your lungs. Angled jaw, perfect blond hair, broad shoulders set above a strong chest and a seriously slim waist. And he was tall. So tall. He also smelled great literally all the time, which didn’t help things. A simple, strong, expensive yet inoffensive cologne was incredibly on-brand and maddeningly distracting.

You hated how he affected you and you worked harder than everyone else to prove you weren’t just another airhead wanting a place on the team and a place next to the gorgeous living legend. That wasn’t you. But, you had eyes.

Bloodied hands, sweaty stealth suits and many nights crying over the stress of it all, and eventually it paid off. You were on the team. Barely a fortnight went by before a realisation hit you in the face – Steve Rogers was as good on the inside as he was on the outside. Sure, he was patient during training, encouraging yet fair, and he was driven by duty and purpose. That was obvious. It was the smaller moments you noticed most. Dropping to one knee and tying Natasha’s runners for her when she pulled her calf muscle and had to leave training early. Hugging Thor when he missed his brother. Brewing coffee for the team on a Sunday – cooking wasn’t his thing, he admitted, so it was the least he could do.

And the night he came back in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin from a run, verbal jabs already flying from you all as he squelched through the common area with jogging bottoms and a t-shirt that looked as though it had been painted onto his muscular body. Until you all noticed he was holding something in his arms. A black labrador puppy, just as wet as he was, Steve’s large arm having attempted and failed at shielding the stray from the rain.

“He was shaking by the dumpster out back, poor little guy!” His trademark compassion married with a boyish giddiness at finding a tiny new friend. He flinched slightly when he looked up and noticed your presence. You were new. You weren’t a trusted colleague yet. He felt as though you had just seen him naked.

You jumped up and fetched a towel to dry him and a blanket to lay on. The dog, that is, not the super soldier. Clint jogged to the fridge and fished out some fresh roasted chicken. And Thor slowly approached the little dog, the God’s eyes teary, as he declared, “We shall call him Loki.” It took the blond a week or two to accept the pup was in fact a dog and not his brother in animal form.

Yeah. Steve Rogers was an angel. And the more you saw the soft heart underneath his red, white and blue suit, the more lightheaded you felt in his presence. Gorgeous, compassionate and genuine with ironclad integrity. How were you supposed to resist that?

Allowing your mind to bathe in blissful memories killed a little time, though you were catapulted into the present by a sensation you simply could not ignore. It pressed into your hipbone. You cleared your throat.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re, erm... you’re hard.”

“I know.” He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, paused for four seconds, then let out a breath through taught lips. Box breathing. You learned it from him in training. After two minutes of breathing exercises, he regained his physical composure. Your hipbone wouldn’t bruise, it seemed.

“You know, it’s really okay... for what it’s worth, I felt a little worked up too. Any woman would be, pressed up against you.” You hoped your awkward chuckle and statement of truth would generalise your arousal. You were right – any woman would feel a certain way.

His pause was longer this time. “I know, English.”

A weight seemed to drop out of your stomach. You summoned all your courage and looked up at him. “What do you mean, you know?”

“Well, my err.....” he gestured vaguely to his mouth and nose. “My senses are dialled up to a hundred. You know, after the serum.” He looked down and met your eyes. “So I, err.... I can tell.”

“You can.... tell?”

“Yeah. I can, err...” He looked down, a light blush dusting his cheekbones. “I can, you know, smell you.”

Smell me??

Mercifully it was dark enough in that cave to disguise your own blushing. You feared the entire cavern would light up with the red beacon on your face. You swallowed. “You mean, because we’re so close right now. Right?”

Steve’s dramatic pauses persisted. “Not exactly.”

Oh God.

He knew, didn’t he. Every time. Every damn time you had been turned on by his mere presence, thinking you were embodying nonchalance and a stellar work ethic, he fucking knew. Your mind flashed like a slideshow with memories of thirsting over Steve, from initial training to nights in the tower to missions together. You couldn't stop yourself from making a sound of mortification. The groan didn’t stand a chance.

The cave fell silent. Then the chuckling started.

“Are you fucking laughing at me, Rogers??”

“No, no...” He covered his mouth and grinned, still chortling to himself.

“Oh, my God, you’re an asshole.....” You elbowed him, then mustered a Russian accent to quote your favourite hockey show. “Everyone must know this. Everybody, Steve Rogers is an asshole!”

“You and that goddamn show!”

“What? It’s hot!”

Steve shook his head, recalling the nights you and Natasha watched Heated Rivalry together. “No it isn’t. You’re hot.”

“What, no it’s - ” You stopped defending your show and looked him dead in the eyes. “Hang on, what did you say?”

His eyes roamed to your lips and back up again. “You heard me, English.” You weren’t imagining it, his voice had dropped a level. You swallowed hard.

Your hand found its way back to his chest. Your breathing quickened and you felt the seat of your underwear dampen. His lips parted. Your gazes were held together by invisible strings of honey, never leaving each other. Slowly, he tilted his head to one side, assessing the situation like a military operation, with one distinct difference. You felt his cock press into your hip once more.

“Steve....”

“We can’t.” He shook his head sadly, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, we’re colleagues. I get it, I – ”

“No, we physically can’t - there isn’t enough room to swing a cat in here!”

You laughed and as your chuckles subsided he took your hand, which had been resting on his chest and he slid it up behind his neck, massaging at the tense muscles.

“So you’re saying it’s a challenge then.” You cocked your head and smirked. “What, you think I’m not up to it?”

He looked down at you, nostrils flared, and it was the last thing you saw before he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you, hard and desperate. His body pressed into yours and he groaned into your mouth as he snaked a hand around your lower back to pull you even tighter against him. His body was firm and strong, that damn cologne invading your senses as he kissed the last scraps of sense from you.

Without warning Steve jerked his mouth from you and pressed his back into the wall. Satisfied, he pushed the wall behind you with his palms. “It won’t budge. We’re good.” As he talked, he reached his hand behind your ear and switched your CommsLink to ‘receive only’ mode. He clicked his own earpiece a milisecond later.

It was as close to an invitation as he would give, and it was enough to prompt you to scramble up the tangles of toppled concrete and find a foothold. You rested a hand on his shoulder and another on the rock as you got into position, bringing your hips level with his. He assisted by grabbing your ass and holding you in place. “You’re so fuckin’ good, baby.” He was horny and impressed by your ingenuity. Didn't get much better than that.

“Can you unzip your suit from here?”

You pressed both hands into his shoulders, needing to steady yourself. You look down at your black suit, covered in grey dust. “I dunno, I.... I need help...”

“Got it.” His fingers found your zipper and before he pulled down, he waited and whispered to you. “You sure this is okay?”

“I’m sure that if we don’t do this I’ll be salty about it forever.”

“Alright.... alright....”

His voice trailed off and his eyes smouldered, any scrap of the dutiful soldier gone. In its place, a man driven by pure need. He maintained eye contact as he unzipped your black tactical suit and slid it from your shoulders, leaving you exposed in your black underwear. He pulled the zip all the way down past your pubis. The backs of his hands brushed past the damp seat of your underwear. He felt shivers of pleasure roll over his shoulders and down his back.

You bit your lip as you eyed him hungrily. He was covered in dust and concrete, face filthy with evidence of his heroics. You scraped dramatically at the chest of his stealth suit, desperate for access to his skin. He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry baby. It won’t come off easy. I can unzip, though.” He stroked your cheek with a softness unfitting of fucking you senseless in a dusty cave. “Would that be okay? Hmm?” Your last braincell left your skull as he inserted a grimy thumb into your mouth and you sucked on it. “Ohh, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You began fumbling with his leather tactical belt, muttering, “I can’t wait, Steve. I’m sorry, I can’t.” The hardening of his cock told you he didn’t object to his tactical belt hastily falling to the ground. As you unbuttoned his tactical pants and moved the stiff fabric to one side to access his zipper, he hoisted you up, both hands under your ass cheeks. You groaned as curtains of kevlar fabric parted to reveal a hard dick encased in tight black Calvins. “Ffffuck, Steve.....” You palmed his cock through the cotton.

“Move ‘em down.” When you tried and failed over the course of the next two seconds, he tore at the fabric to give you better access. You pulled the flap of cotton to one side and placed your hand around his perfect, long hard cock, stroking him from the base to the head. He squirmed under your touch as you teased the head with your thumb.

His eyes were blown wide, already out of it. He rested the weight of you on one palm and his bicep bulged under the pressure, as one strong hand moved your panties to the side. “This okay?” he asked breathlessly as he returned his hand underneath your arse and positioned you above his cock. Crumbled concrete crunched under your knees as you pushed them into the rock to steady yourself. You reached up and cupped the back of his head, his hair gritty with dust. “Please Steve, I need you....”

“I know, baby. I know....” He whispered so gently as he carefully lowered you down onto his hard shaft, coaxing a gasp from your throat. He cursed. It was too much, the combination of feeling your warmth around him and the sight of your mouth wide open, veins pulsing in your neck as you tilted your head back. His first thrust faltered as he felt you become even more wet. Two leather straps in front of your sightline stared at you and you grabbed them, using his shield holster as handles. The feeling of you tugging at him made him curse again. He took control, moving you up and down, hands under your ass, guiding you, thrusting you up and down as you held onto his leather straps, face buried into dusty navy blue.

He was big. Not offensively so. But he filled you so perfectly with each deliberate, firm, careful lower onto his shaft. You hung onto those two straps of leather as he controlled your movements.

“Steve, can you hear me? It’s Sam.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ shitting me.” Steve’s voice was gruff, genuinely irritated by the interruption. You laughed and told him to ignore it. Instead he instructed you to be quiet and, when you struggled, advised you to clamp your mouth around his leather shield straps. You shot him an incredulous look as a dusty leather glove elevated to his ear. Click.

“Sam. I’m here.”

“We’re twenty minutes out from your location. Hang in there.”

“Got it.”

“Any injuries?”

“No. No, we’re err... we’re fine. Both of us.”

There was a pause from Sam. “...You sure?”

Steve faltered. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

His bicep began to twitch. Holding you up with one hand wasn’t easy, even with his enhanced strength. You helped him by getting a foothold near his hip, changing your position so you had one knee and one boot steading your slutty form straddled either side him. The new angle caused you to move further up his dick and slide past the head, making him hiss.

“Your breathing, Cap. The air....” Sam shouted instructions at Romanoff to ‘step on it.’ “Be there in 15. Hang in there. Over.”

“Received. Over.” Steve clicked his earpiece back to receive only. You removed your face from his chest, teeth long since parted with his holster, and cocked your head.

“Great, now they think we’re dying from lack of oxygen.”

He quirked his lips. “I’m dyin’ of somethin’.”

You spurted a laugh. “Come on, we only have 15 minutes.”

“Thanks for thinkin’ there’s a chance I’ll last that long....” He kissed you urgently, grabbing you by the arse again and sliding you back onto his dick. It forced a moan from you and he chuckled, but it felt every bit as divine to him too.

You maintained your position, your foothold giving you leverage and control as you grabbed his holster straps again and swung off them, grateful his suit came with a built-in sex swing. He growled, the sensation overwhelming him. You were climbing him like a tree in the limited space you had. And you were so tight around him, so hot, so wet....

“I always fuckin’ knew you’d feel this good honey, fuck....”

Your mouth covered his neck in wet kisses lacking finesse as the reality of the situation hit you. You were getting railed by Steve Rogers in a cave in a life-or-death situation which straddled your deepest phobia. He was covered in dust and grime and wearing his stealth suit, open just enough to give his cock enough room to fuck you. He smelled of sex, sweat and that damn collogne. Heat rose through your body and your climax raced through you, coming with a loud moan as you tilted your head back in ecstasy.

“Fffffffuck, Steve....”

“Yeah, yeah honey... oh fuckkkkkkk.....”

He spurted his release inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he came with an animalistic groan, his climax lasting longer than you expected, longer than was typical or normal. Of course. Even his orgasms were stronger than the average man.

His head flopped back against the wall, eyes closed, forehead sticky with sweat. You rested against his chest and he held you against him as your heartrates settled back into rhythm. Once he was sure you were okay – after asking several times and checking you over, he helped lower you back to the ground and zip you back up. He glanced down at his own state of undress and found a shred of fabric where his underwear used to be. His sigh melted into a light laugh and he ripped the remainder of the garment off and put the scraps of material in a pocket in his tactical pants. You found this hilarious. “Honey, just don’t,” he warned, though he smiled and his tone held no malice.

When he had zipped his dick up behind its Kevlar prison, he smoothed down your hair, thick with grit, and offered a soft smile. “You know, we should get trapped in a collapsed building more often.”

“It was hot, I’m not gonna lie.”

“It was so fuckin’ hot.” He kissed your forehead. You turned and noticed leather on the dusty ground. Neither of you could reach it.

“We might have to explain why your tactical belt is on the floor.”

“It got blown off during the blast.” His tone, suddenly serious and professional, made you laugh.

“Course it did.” You sighed. “And hey. At least I haven’t had a panic attack.” It was too late to take the words back. But the two of you were way past formalities.

Thankfully the patient is coherent enough to answer all your questions about allergies and medical history. You and Jack quickly diagnose him with a concussion, broken ribs, and a few deep cuts. “You were extremely lucky, Mr. Bradshaw.” You inform him as you clean the cut on his arm diligently. You finish the last stitch smiling at Jack in a “See, I’m not a complete screw up” kind of way when the patient’s monitors started going off. The man is now lying there unresponsive. “Mr. Bradshaw! Mr. Bradshaw!” You shake him trying to get a reaction.

You and Jack quickly get to work to revive him. You push the medicine into his IV. But now instead of curing him, he is shaking so hard you’re afraid he will accidentally throw himself into the floor. Jack glares at you, “What the fuck did you give him?” He demands, his gaze on you, muscular biceps on display crossed against his chest. You look at the vial again to make sure before answering when your heart drops into your ass. You accidentally administered the wrong medicine. You meant to give him something to make him better, but instead you gave him the medication he was allergic to.

The two medicines were so similar in spelling and you were so exhausted that you grabbed the wrong one. You hold your head down, refusing to look Jack in the eye as you answer. His jaw clenches, “What?” He growls, running a hand through his silver and gray curls. He rushes over, scooting you out of the way. “What do you need me to do?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t even look at you, “Stay out of my way.” He answers while giving Mr. Bradshaw something to counteract what you gave him. Your hands get clammy. You have never been more ashamed in your life.

You never made careless mistakes like this. You think of all the ways you should have done it differently. You knew you were exhausted, you should have checked at least ten times to make sure it was the correct medicine. The two names look nearly identical with just minor differences. You should have made sure. Now if Mr. Bradshaw dies, it’s completely your fault. You hold your breath watching as Jack does everything he can to save Mr. Bradshaw. Finally, after the longest three minutes of your life, Mr. Bradshaw’s monitors even out, going back to normal. You sigh in relief.

“I need a word with you. Now.” Jack commands, pulling off his gloves by the door. You do the same as you follow him out. You’re dreading this conversation. You had made so many errors tonight. This was not the level expected of a third year resident. Jack leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. When the lock clicks, you shiver, something about him being this angry made him even sexier.

Jack is a silver fox. He is hot, confident, intelligent, rugged. You know it’s wrong to think about him like that. He’s your superior. Not only that, but the age difference is significant. He made it impossible. It wasn’t just his looks you are attracted to, it’s his personality too. Now the man you fantasize about looks like he is going to fire you. He points a finger at you, Backing you up against the wall as he gets in your face. “You have two seconds to start telling me what is wrong with you today.” You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise. You’ve worked with him for three years and he had never lost control like this.

“I only got four hours of sleep. My mom called and it woke me up. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Now I’m exhausted and messing everything up. I am so sorry for what happened back there. It was completely my fault, and I know better.” You explain, knowing it’s no excuse. “You couldn’t tell me that at the start of the shift?! You should have given me a heads up, so I’d know to put you on light duty and keep an eye on you. I am so disappointed in you right now. What the hell were you thinking? You didn’t even ask me about the medicine before pushing it. I know I’ve been laidback with you and let you get away with more than I should. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault too. You are the most intelligent resident we have had since me! I trusted you enough to let you call some of the shots, and now you’ve just proven that I can no longer let that happen. You aren’t yourself tonight. My girl would never do anything as reckless as this.” He rips into you with angry words. He’s standing so close to you that his breath fans across your face.

Your heart rate speeds up from the proximity. He has you trapped against the wall with his body. His legs and hips pin you while he finishes his tirade. Your head spins from being so tired and something else entirely. Wait, did he just call you his girl? HIS GIRL?! As in HIS? He grips your chin with his calloused fingers, tilting your face upwards as his lips meet yours. The kiss is like how you imagined he felt right now. Furious. It was all teeth and bites, no gentle, sweet, hesitant pecks. He slides his tongue over yours and your legs feel like they might buckle. You whimper as he chuckles darkly, breaking the kiss. “What’s the matter, honey?” He teases as he nips your neck. You move your head to the side for him. His work phone rings, he answers with a gruff “Yeah?” He frowns, eyes flickering to you before hanging up. “City bus hit a man on the sidewalk. He’ll be here in ten.”

Jack grabs the sides of your scrubs, yanking your pants down your legs. “Guess that means we’ll have to be quick.” He kisses your neck, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. You arch into him as he pulls your panties to your ankles where your scrub pants are bunched up just above your shoes. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, honey. Bet you’ll look so pretty when I wreck you.” He snakes his hand up your scrub top, pulling your bra cup down. Rough fingers pinch your nipple “Let’s take a step back. I’m getting ahead of myself. Gotta get you nice and wet for me before I ruin you. Where do you wanna come first, pretty girl? On my fingers or on my tongue?”

Before you can answer, his large hand caresses your upper thigh just long enough to make you squirm when he dips two thick fingers inside of you. His calloused thumb draws short circles on your clit. He twists his fingers in time with a hard pinch to your nipple. Your orgasm slams into you embarrassingly fast, your hands finding solace on his thick biceps. You bury your face into his chest, trying to stifle the sounds he is drawing from you. His experienced fingers work their magic as he lets you ride out your pleasure. When he’s sure you’ve finished, he grabs your face to check on you.

“You good?” He asks, his voice much gentler than before. “You shake your head yes as Jack presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, a huge contrast to the rough way he pulled the orgasm from you. Maybe this shift wasn’t the worst one you’d ever worked after all. You look at Jack, not sure how to react after that. You were always comfortable around him and you sure as shit were not gonna mess that up. You search your foggy brain for something cheeky to say finally landing on “I was gonna choose your tongue.” You smile as your eyes sparkle with mischief.

Jack smirks, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. He struts over to the hospital bed and sits, your body still slung over him. He lowers the bed, laying back. “Let’s fix that.” He lifts you, positioning you just over his mouth. He grips your hips and pulls you down, chapped lips tugging on your clit. “Jack!” You squeal in surprise, still shook by how this night was turning out. You place a hand over your mouth, praying no one would hear you as you try to stifle a moan.

He sucks with pressure so perfect, your vision goes blurry. Your thighs lock around his head as he swipes your clit with quick flicks. You can’t believe this is happening. You look down at him between your legs to make sure you aren’t dreaming. You hope you never wake up if you are just imagining this. His eyes are closed as he moves his head, his tongue swirling against you. You definitely weren’t dreaming. Your legs tremble as he dips his tongue inside you, curling against that spot that makes you see stars. His nose brushes your clit as he fucks you with his tongue. You move with him, helping him reach all the right spots. Jack growls against you, loving how you’re reacting to him. He eats you with hungry laps, the unforgiving patterns he is licking against you make you so weak, you have to hold onto the bedside railing to stay upright.

His silver stubble scratches your inner thighs as you ride his face with abandon. You bring your free hand down to tangle in his gray curls. You can feel him whimper against you, the vibrations and knowing he was enjoying this too send white hot heat through you. You come apart as you move your hips, taking all the pleasure you can. He grips your thighs and holds you still as he licks you through your orgasm. He leans his head against your thighs, mouth and chin glistening with you. His eyes gleam with the same look he gives you when he is up to no good. Before you can even wonder what he has planned, he moves underneath you.

One second you’re above him, coming from the best head of your life. The next, you’re flipped on your back on the end of the bed. Jack crawls in between your legs, lifting your legs to accommodate him. Since your pants were still around your ankles, you couldn’t open your legs as far as you would like. Jack pulls his pants down over his hips. You look between you, eyes going wide. He’s huge. “It won’t fit.” You protest. There was no way. Jack leans down, biting your neck as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. “I’ll make it.” He growls. You cry out, no keeping that in. He’s destroying you in the best way. You take what he gives you, eyes rolled back every time he hits that perfect spot.

It’s never been like this with anyone. The bed is shaking, wheels scuffing the floor as they struggle to stay anchored in place. The way he is stretching you is unreal. He’s hitting places you never dreamed existed. You claw at his back as he fucks you into the small mattress. “How do I feel?” He presses his hard body down against you. “Perfect.” You answer, delirious with bliss. Jack reaches between you, rolling his skillful fingers over your clit. “I’m so close.” You confess, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Look at me while I take what’s mine.” He commands, as you obey instantly. Your eyes locked on his face. Jack drives into you like he’s hellbent on ruining you for anyone else. Knowing him, that was probably what he is going for. His hips snap forward nearly pushing you off the bed. You clench around him as he sends you into your third orgasm of the night. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose nuzzling your neck as he shudders through his release.

His work phone rings again, cutting through the pleasure fog and bringing you back to reality. “I’ll be right there” He growls into the phone. He untangles himself from you while he relays the message. “The patient just got to the ambulance bay. We need to go meet them.” He stands first, pulling his pants back up. You lay there, head still swimming from everything. “Are you okay?” You ask, tilting your head toward his leg, a worried expression on your face. You almost forgot he wears a prosthetic, and he just put you through the mattress. He smirks, adjusting his scrubs as he answers “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. You’re the one that’s going to be walking funny for the rest of the shift.” He laughs at his own quip as he walks out, leaving you alone as you try to stand on shaky legs.

You were fine. At least you thought so. Dazed, sure. But otherwise unscathed. One minute you were scanning a warehouse for intel, the next rubble was falling all around you, and now you were pressed against Steve Rogers who was treating you like the walking wounded. You glanced around the confined space. Your bodies had created a cocoon of concrete at your backs. Steve’s shield caused the rock to form a makeshift roof. You were in a cave of your own creation. Your protector continued to check you for injuries, his breathing rate slowing down when he found none. You regained your faculties when a strong hand rested gently on the side of your face.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper now. Softer.

“I’m okay, Steve. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah...” You observed your surroundings and suddenly became aware of your palm pressed against his chest, your small, delicate hands a contrast to the dusty Kevlar fabric of his uniform. “Oh... sorry.” You jerked your hand away from him as though his stealth suit were a hot pan.

“S’okay.... not exactly much room in here.”

“Cap this is Sam.... come in, do you read me?” The crackle of the CommsLink stirred you both. Steve responded, updating the Falcon on your status. It was a rogue missile, Sam informed you both. But he knew exactly where you were. Rescue was coming.

“How long?” Steve asked, noticing the grimace on your face.

“Thirty minutes at least. An hour, tops.”

Steve nodded and verbally affirmed he understood. But he remained frowning, his eyes on your contorted face.

“It’s gonna be okay, English.”

“I know, I just.... confined spaces and all that.”

“I know. I know....”

The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was his sympathetic expression. Behind your eyelids your mind conjured images of training. Tactical drills, physical challenges, gathering intel, resistance to interrogation, you name it, you had nailed it all. Crawling through pipes and claustrophobic concrete was the only chink in your armour. Steve remembered it as well as you did.

All you could do was wait and try to stay calm. If you didn’t, Steve’s sage words of wisdom would cut through the air, vague reassurances with obvious yet essential commands. “We gotta stay calm. Just breathe. You’re doing great.”

You wanted to avoid that if possible. Only a year out of training and a solid reputation behind you with the UK’s Ministry of Defence. You weren’t about to throw it all away for a panic attack in a cave.

You allowed your mind to wander to pass the time. It started with your senses, touch being the most obvious one. Your body was pressed up hard against Cap. There were women with less integrity than you who would kill to be in your position. Not that there was an ugly member of the Avengers. Being hot was an extra superpower, it seemed. Dazzle the enemy with your gorgeousity before striking them with lightning. But as far as handsome goes, the man pressed against you had clearly fell out of the genetic jackpot tree and hit every branch on the way down. The serum was obviously sorcery.

You clocked him immediately on your first day of training, muscular forearms crossed over a white t-shirt causing huge biceps to bulge. He was impossibly gorgeous. One of those men who looked almost cheesy in photographs, easy to mock and laugh about with your friends, but in person he knocked the air from your lungs. Angled jaw, perfect blond hair, broad shoulders set above a strong chest and a seriously slim waist. And he was tall. So tall. He also smelled great literally all the time, which didn’t help things. A simple, strong, expensive yet inoffensive cologne was incredibly on-brand and maddeningly distracting.

You hated how he affected you and you worked harder than everyone else to prove you weren’t just another airhead wanting a place on the team and a place next to the gorgeous living legend. That wasn’t you. But, you had eyes.

Bloodied hands, sweaty stealth suits and many nights crying over the stress of it all, and eventually it paid off. You were on the team. Barely a fortnight went by before a realisation hit you in the face – Steve Rogers was as good on the inside as he was on the outside. Sure, he was patient during training, encouraging yet fair, and he was driven by duty and purpose. That was obvious. It was the smaller moments you noticed most. Dropping to one knee and tying Natasha’s runners for her when she pulled her calf muscle and had to leave training early. Hugging Thor when he missed his brother. Brewing coffee for the team on a Sunday – cooking wasn’t his thing, he admitted, so it was the least he could do.

And the night he came back in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin from a run, verbal jabs already flying from you all as he squelched through the common area with jogging bottoms and a t-shirt that looked as though it had been painted onto his muscular body. Until you all noticed he was holding something in his arms. A black labrador puppy, just as wet as he was, Steve’s large arm having attempted and failed at shielding the stray from the rain.

“He was shaking by the dumpster out back, poor little guy!” His trademark compassion married with a boyish giddiness at finding a tiny new friend. He flinched slightly when he looked up and noticed your presence. You were new. You weren’t a trusted colleague yet. He felt as though you had just seen him naked.

You jumped up and fetched a towel to dry him and a blanket to lay on. The dog, that is, not the super soldier. Clint jogged to the fridge and fished out some fresh roasted chicken. And Thor slowly approached the little dog, the God’s eyes teary, as he declared, “We shall call him Loki.” It took the blond a week or two to accept the pup was in fact a dog and not his brother in animal form.

Yeah. Steve Rogers was an angel. And the more you saw the soft heart underneath his red, white and blue suit, the more lightheaded you felt in his presence. Gorgeous, compassionate and genuine with ironclad integrity. How were you supposed to resist that?

Allowing your mind to bathe in blissful memories killed a little time, though you were catapulted into the present by a sensation you simply could not ignore. It pressed into your hipbone. You cleared your throat.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re, erm... you’re hard.”

“I know.” He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, paused for four seconds, then let out a breath through taught lips. Box breathing. You learned it from him in training. After two minutes of breathing exercises, he regained his physical composure. Your hipbone wouldn’t bruise, it seemed.

“You know, it’s really okay... for what it’s worth, I felt a little worked up too. Any woman would be, pressed up against you.” You hoped your awkward chuckle and statement of truth would generalise your arousal. You were right – any woman would feel a certain way.

His pause was longer this time. “I know, English.”

A weight seemed to drop out of your stomach. You summoned all your courage and looked up at him. “What do you mean, you know?”

“Well, my err.....” he gestured vaguely to his mouth and nose. “My senses are dialled up to a hundred. You know, after the serum.” He looked down and met your eyes. “So I, err.... I can tell.”

“You can.... tell?”

“Yeah. I can, err...” He looked down, a light blush dusting his cheekbones. “I can, you know, smell you.”

Smell me??

Mercifully it was dark enough in that cave to disguise your own blushing. You feared the entire cavern would light up with the red beacon on your face. You swallowed. “You mean, because we’re so close right now. Right?”

Steve’s dramatic pauses persisted. “Not exactly.”

Oh God.

He knew, didn’t he. Every time. Every damn time you had been turned on by his mere presence, thinking you were embodying nonchalance and a stellar work ethic, he fucking knew. Your mind flashed like a slideshow with memories of thirsting over Steve, from initial training to nights in the tower to missions together. You couldn't stop yourself from making a sound of mortification. The groan didn’t stand a chance.

The cave fell silent. Then the chuckling started.

“Are you fucking laughing at me, Rogers??”

“No, no...” He covered his mouth and grinned, still chortling to himself.

“Oh, my God, you’re an asshole.....” You elbowed him, then mustered a Russian accent to quote your favourite hockey show. “Everyone must know this. Everybody, Steve Rogers is an asshole!”

“You and that goddamn show!”

“What? It’s hot!”

Steve shook his head, recalling the nights you and Natasha watched Heated Rivalry together. “No it isn’t. You’re hot.”

“What, no it’s - ” You stopped defending your show and looked him dead in the eyes. “Hang on, what did you say?”

His eyes roamed to your lips and back up again. “You heard me, English.” You weren’t imagining it, his voice had dropped a level. You swallowed hard.

Your hand found its way back to his chest. Your breathing quickened and you felt the seat of your underwear dampen. His lips parted. Your gazes were held together by invisible strings of honey, never leaving each other. Slowly, he tilted his head to one side, assessing the situation like a military operation, with one distinct difference. You felt his cock press into your hip once more.

“Steve....”

“We can’t.” He shook his head sadly, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, we’re colleagues. I get it, I – ”

“No, we physically can’t - there isn’t enough room to swing a cat in here!”

You laughed and as your chuckles subsided he took your hand, which had been resting on his chest and he slid it up behind his neck, massaging at the tense muscles.

“So you’re saying it’s a challenge then.” You cocked your head and smirked. “What, you think I’m not up to it?”

He looked down at you, nostrils flared, and it was the last thing you saw before he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you, hard and desperate. His body pressed into yours and he groaned into your mouth as he snaked a hand around your lower back to pull you even tighter against him. His body was firm and strong, that damn cologne invading your senses as he kissed the last scraps of sense from you.

Without warning Steve jerked his mouth from you and pressed his back into the wall. Satisfied, he pushed the wall behind you with his palms. “It won’t budge. We’re good.” As he talked, he reached his hand behind your ear and switched your CommsLink to ‘receive only’ mode. He clicked his own earpiece a milisecond later.

It was as close to an invitation as he would give, and it was enough to prompt you to scramble up the tangles of toppled concrete and find a foothold. You rested a hand on his shoulder and another on the rock as you got into position, bringing your hips level with his. He assisted by grabbing your ass and holding you in place. “You’re so fuckin’ good, baby.” He was horny and impressed by your ingenuity. Didn't get much better than that.

“Can you unzip your suit from here?”

You pressed both hands into his shoulders, needing to steady yourself. You look down at your black suit, covered in grey dust. “I dunno, I.... I need help...”

“Got it.” His fingers found your zipper and before he pulled down, he waited and whispered to you. “You sure this is okay?”

“I’m sure that if we don’t do this I’ll be salty about it forever.”

“Alright.... alright....”

His voice trailed off and his eyes smouldered, any scrap of the dutiful soldier gone. In its place, a man driven by pure need. He maintained eye contact as he unzipped your black tactical suit and slid it from your shoulders, leaving you exposed in your black underwear. He pulled the zip all the way down past your pubis. The backs of his hands brushed past the damp seat of your underwear. He felt shivers of pleasure roll over his shoulders and down his back.

You bit your lip as you eyed him hungrily. He was covered in dust and concrete, face filthy with evidence of his heroics. You scraped dramatically at the chest of his stealth suit, desperate for access to his skin. He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry baby. It won’t come off easy. I can unzip, though.” He stroked your cheek with a softness unfitting of fucking you senseless in a dusty cave. “Would that be okay? Hmm?” Your last braincell left your skull as he inserted a grimy thumb into your mouth and you sucked on it. “Ohh, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You began fumbling with his leather tactical belt, muttering, “I can’t wait, Steve. I’m sorry, I can’t.” The hardening of his cock told you he didn’t object to his tactical belt hastily falling to the ground. As you unbuttoned his tactical pants and moved the stiff fabric to one side to access his zipper, he hoisted you up, both hands under your ass cheeks. You groaned as curtains of kevlar fabric parted to reveal a hard dick encased in tight black Calvins. “Ffffuck, Steve.....” You palmed his cock through the cotton.

“Move ‘em down.” When you tried and failed over the course of the next two seconds, he tore at the fabric to give you better access. You pulled the flap of cotton to one side and placed your hand around his perfect, long hard cock, stroking him from the base to the head. He squirmed under your touch as you teased the head with your thumb.

His eyes were blown wide, already out of it. He rested the weight of you on one palm and his bicep bulged under the pressure, as one strong hand moved your panties to the side. “This okay?” he asked breathlessly as he returned his hand underneath your arse and positioned you above his cock. Crumbled concrete crunched under your knees as you pushed them into the rock to steady yourself. You reached up and cupped the back of his head, his hair gritty with dust. “Please Steve, I need you....”

“I know, baby. I know....” He whispered so gently as he carefully lowered you down onto his hard shaft, coaxing a gasp from your throat. He cursed. It was too much, the combination of feeling your warmth around him and the sight of your mouth wide open, veins pulsing in your neck as you tilted your head back. His first thrust faltered as he felt you become even more wet. Two leather straps in front of your sightline stared at you and you grabbed them, using his shield holster as handles. The feeling of you tugging at him made him curse again. He took control, moving you up and down, hands under your ass, guiding you, thrusting you up and down as you held onto his leather straps, face buried into dusty navy blue.

He was big. Not offensively so. But he filled you so perfectly with each deliberate, firm, careful lower onto his shaft. You hung onto those two straps of leather as he controlled your movements.

“Steve, can you hear me? It’s Sam.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ shitting me.” Steve’s voice was gruff, genuinely irritated by the interruption. You laughed and told him to ignore it. Instead he instructed you to be quiet and, when you struggled, advised you to clamp your mouth around his leather shield straps. You shot him an incredulous look as a dusty leather glove elevated to his ear. Click.

“Sam. I’m here.”

“We’re twenty minutes out from your location. Hang in there.”

“Got it.”

“Any injuries?”

“No. No, we’re err... we’re fine. Both of us.”

There was a pause from Sam. “...You sure?”

Steve faltered. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

His bicep began to twitch. Holding you up with one hand wasn’t easy, even with his enhanced strength. You helped him by getting a foothold near his hip, changing your position so you had one knee and one boot steading your slutty form straddled either side him. The new angle caused you to move further up his dick and slide past the head, making him hiss.

“Your breathing, Cap. The air....” Sam shouted instructions at Romanoff to ‘step on it.’ “Be there in 15. Hang in there. Over.”

“Received. Over.” Steve clicked his earpiece back to receive only. You removed your face from his chest, teeth long since parted with his holster, and cocked your head.

“Great, now they think we’re dying from lack of oxygen.”

He quirked his lips. “I’m dyin’ of somethin’.”

You spurted a laugh. “Come on, we only have 15 minutes.”

“Thanks for thinkin’ there’s a chance I’ll last that long....” He kissed you urgently, grabbing you by the arse again and sliding you back onto his dick. It forced a moan from you and he chuckled, but it felt every bit as divine to him too.

You maintained your position, your foothold giving you leverage and control as you grabbed his holster straps again and swung off them, grateful his suit came with a built-in sex swing. He growled, the sensation overwhelming him. You were climbing him like a tree in the limited space you had. And you were so tight around him, so hot, so wet....

“I always fuckin’ knew you’d feel this good honey, fuck....”

Your mouth covered his neck in wet kisses lacking finesse as the reality of the situation hit you. You were getting railed by Steve Rogers in a cave in a life-or-death situation which straddled your deepest phobia. He was covered in dust and grime and wearing his stealth suit, open just enough to give his cock enough room to fuck you. He smelled of sex, sweat and that damn collogne. Heat rose through your body and your climax raced through you, coming with a loud moan as you tilted your head back in ecstasy.

“Fffffffuck, Steve....”

“Yeah, yeah honey... oh fuckkkkkkk.....”

He spurted his release inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he came with an animalistic groan, his climax lasting longer than you expected, longer than was typical or normal. Of course. Even his orgasms were stronger than the average man.

His head flopped back against the wall, eyes closed, forehead sticky with sweat. You rested against his chest and he held you against him as your heartrates settled back into rhythm. Once he was sure you were okay – after asking several times and checking you over, he helped lower you back to the ground and zip you back up. He glanced down at his own state of undress and found a shred of fabric where his underwear used to be. His sigh melted into a light laugh and he ripped the remainder of the garment off and put the scraps of material in a pocket in his tactical pants. You found this hilarious. “Honey, just don’t,” he warned, though he smiled and his tone held no malice.

When he had zipped his dick up behind its Kevlar prison, he smoothed down your hair, thick with grit, and offered a soft smile. “You know, we should get trapped in a collapsed building more often.”

“It was hot, I’m not gonna lie.”

“It was so fuckin’ hot.” He kissed your forehead. You turned and noticed leather on the dusty ground. Neither of you could reach it.

“We might have to explain why your tactical belt is on the floor.”

“It got blown off during the blast.” His tone, suddenly serious and professional, made you laugh.

“Course it did.” You sighed. “And hey. At least I haven’t had a panic attack.” It was too late to take the words back. But the two of you were way past formalities.

He had been subscribed and a loyal follower from your early days. Now your account, bbygrl007 had more followers, but he was still there. You noticed. Of course, you didn’t know his real identity. You knew him as hotdr69, but you paid attention. He always interacted when you posted. He tipped extremely well. He paid for private, personalized content. You were always happy to accept his requests. Jack saw the green light beside your account name, indicating that you were online now. He types out a message before he can talk himself out of it.

Hotdr69: Would you be willing to do a video call?

He sends the message, biting his bottom lip as he watches the screen anxiously. When the status changes from delivered to seen, his heart rate picks up. He knows it’s ridiculous to be nervous. He doesn’t even know you in real life. But he hadn’t been with anyone since his wife passed. He had become attached to you, or the idea of you really. Typing bubbles appear at the bottom of the screen. He runs his hand through his gray curls.

Bbygrl007: What did you have in mind?

Jack thinks it over. What did he want?

Hotdr69: Will you put on a show for me?

He takes a deep breath, waiting for your reply.

Bbygrl007: Of course! Send me the money, then we can discuss your availability.

Your phone pings with a notification. Hotdr69 sent you $1,000. Your eyes widen in surprise. That was way more than you asked for. Then again, he had always been your biggest supporter, sending generous tips, interacting with all your posts. You message him again.

Bbygrl007: Thank you. You didn’t have to send that much. I appreciate it. When are you available?

Barely a minute passes before he replies.

Hotdr69: Now?

You check your phone, it was 7:15 AM. You pulled an all nighter and hadn’t been to sleep yet. An orgasm would help you sleep after the session was over.

Bbygrl007: Sure. Give me just a minute.

You change into a lacy purple bra and panty set, fluff your hair, and use the app to video chat. Jack picks up immediately. You hadn’t communicated this way before. It was always over messages on the app. All you see is a tight white t-shirt on a broad torso. Big, tan, freckled biceps are folded over his chest. You could tell by his skin that he was older. His face is hidden from the camera.

You’re lying on your stomach, legs crossed in the air behind you. Your ass on display in the purple thong, your hands folded under your chin. He has an incredible view of your lace covered breasts. You smile as you speak, “How do you wanna do this? You wanna talk a little or just get down to business?”

Most of the time, these men were just lonely. They wanted someone to listen to them when they felt like they weren’t being heard on top of the sexy stuff. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” He confesses. You sit up, looking into the camera as you speak, “That’s okay. We can take it slow.” You assure him. “No. Uh.. I mean, I want this. I just don’t know what to expect.” He fidgets in his seat, the white t-shirt straining against his chest.

“Do you want me to just do what feels good for me or do you want to tell me what to do?” You give him a minute to think it over. His voice is gruff when he answers. “I’ll tell you what to do.” Your eyes light up. He has a sexy voice, you’re already wet just thinking about him giving you orders. He must have seen how eager you look because his whole demeanor changes. Now he sits straighter, more confidently. “Pull your tits out, but don’t take off your bra.” His first command has you slowly sliding the flimsy bra cups under your breasts. It pushes them up, the cool air of your room pebbling your nipples instantly.

Jack exhales. Those perfect tits that he touched himself to more times than he would like to admit were right there on the screen just for him. “Good girl.” He rasps. He could feel himself getting hard in his scrub pants. Just last evening before his shift, he had taken care of himself imagining what it would be like to feel his rough fingers on your soft skin, playing with your nipples. The sounds you would make as he would take a hardened peak between his lips. How your back would arch under him as he licked and sucked until you couldn’t take it anymore. Would you come just from that? The thought alone excited him.

“Pinch your nipples for me, sweetheart.” He orders as you throw your head back while you tweak them for him to see. “That’s it. Good girl.” You couldn’t believe how wet you were getting. Your typical sessions had you imagining your recent celebrity crush so you could get off. This was different. You found yourself imagining what he looked like. What it would be like if you were in the same room. You rub your thighs together unconsciously.

“Is Daddy’s good girl getting all worked up?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. You continue to pinch your nipples for him. “Yes, Daddy. I’m so wet for you.” You confess as a groan escapes him. He tilts his camera down, giving you a good view of his bottom half. He slides his chair back, taking off his underwear and pants. Jack wraps his hand around his thick cock. “See what you do to me, baby? God, you’re so beautiful. Go ahead and take those panties off. Let Daddy see that pretty pussy.”

You move your hands down your stomach, thumbs hooking into the sides of your purple lace thong. You bring it down your legs and toss it behind you on your bed. You lay down and open your legs, giving him a front row seat to his favorite show. “That’s it, baby. Now, show Daddy how you like to be touched.” You bring a hand down between your legs, fingers swiping through your slick heat. You gather the wetness there, your thumb circling your clit in slow circles.

You notice his arm moving, veins straining against his biceps as he works his cock. You moan at the sight, dipping two fingers into yourself pretending they are his thick fingers instead. You scissor them inside yourself, thumb rolling over your clit as you watch him touch himself. “Do you have any toys, sweetheart?” He asks, his thumb rubbing his precum over the head of him and back down again. You reach into your bedside table drawer and pull out a wand vibrator and a dildo, holding them up so he could see. “Is that one that suctions to things?” He asks, referring to the silicone cock.

You turn it around showing him that it is. He instructs you to place it on the chair in the corner of your room. You stand and bring the chair in front of the camera, securing it to the seat. You look at him expectantly, waiting for his next demand. “Good girl. Now ride that and pretend it’s me.” You don’t have to be told twice. Your sticky arousal is dripping down your thighs at this point. You straddle the chair and lower yourself onto it. You gasp as it fills you completely. He works himself faster as you start moving yourself on the toy. “I’m so full, Daddy. You’re so big.” You praise him, eyes on his perfect cock in his hand on the screen.

“Fuck.” He groans. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined myself between those pretty thighs, watching you arch into my touch while I wreck you, baby.” You rock back and forth on the toy cock, clenching around it as it touches your G-spot. “Can you reach your vibrator, sweetheart?” He asks, pumping himself. You look behind you on your bed where you left it, and grab it behind you.

You show it to the camera, eyes on him as he tilts his hips up to meet his hand as it comes back down against him. “Good, now use it on your clit. I wanna see you come for me. Can you do that for me, baby?” You turn it on, the hum of it mixing with both of your heavy breaths and desperate moans.

Your thighs tremble as you ride the silicone cock, the strong waves of the vibrator against your clit making your eyes roll back. “I’m so close.” You admit, your body slamming down as you fuck yourself, trying to chase the high that’s building low in your belly. “Good girl. That’s it. Come for Daddy. Let me see you fall apart for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the desperation you hear in his voice, the veins popping on his arm as he strokes himself while talking dirty to you, the fact that you upped the setting on your vibrator, or maybe a combo of all three but you soar over the edge. Tears prickle your eyes. Your vision blurs for a second. You cry out “Daddy” as you fall apart for him. “Fuck.” He grunts as spurts of his release paint his tight t-shirt making it cling deliciously to the skin underneath.

You slump back against the chair, breathing heavily as you watch the erotic scene on the screen. “Holy shit. That was hot.” You say, finally floating back down from the clouds. “Can I know your name?” You ask him hesitantly. It was something you never did. Some men gave their real names willingly, but this mysterious man kept his face hidden the entire time he rocked your world without even touching you.

You’re curious about him. “Jack” He answers. “Well Jack, maybe we could do that in person sometime?” You throw all your cards on the table. Fuck it. This man is worth meeting. “I’d love that.” He says, lifting his camera revealing the stupidly handsome, smirking silver fox who just gave you the best orgasm of your life through a computer screen.

He had been subscribed and a loyal follower from your early days. Now your account, bbygrl007 had more followers, but he was still there. You noticed. Of course, you didn’t know his real identity. You knew him as hotdr69, but you paid attention. He always interacted when you posted. He tipped extremely well. He paid for private, personalized content. You were always happy to accept his requests. Jack saw the green light beside your account name, indicating that you were online now. He types out a message before he can talk himself out of it.

Hotdr69: Would you be willing to do a video call?

He sends the message, biting his bottom lip as he watches the screen anxiously. When the status changes from delivered to seen, his heart rate picks up. He knows it’s ridiculous to be nervous. He doesn’t even know you in real life. But he hadn’t been with anyone since his wife passed. He had become attached to you, or the idea of you really. Typing bubbles appear at the bottom of the screen. He runs his hand through his gray curls.

Bbygrl007: What did you have in mind?

Jack thinks it over. What did he want?

Hotdr69: Will you put on a show for me?

He takes a deep breath, waiting for your reply.

Bbygrl007: Of course! Send me the money, then we can discuss your availability.

Your phone pings with a notification. Hotdr69 sent you $1,000. Your eyes widen in surprise. That was way more than you asked for. Then again, he had always been your biggest supporter, sending generous tips, interacting with all your posts. You message him again.

Bbygrl007: Thank you. You didn’t have to send that much. I appreciate it. When are you available?

Barely a minute passes before he replies.

Hotdr69: Now?

You check your phone, it was 7:15 AM. You pulled an all nighter and hadn’t been to sleep yet. An orgasm would help you sleep after the session was over.

Bbygrl007: Sure. Give me just a minute.

You change into a lacy purple bra and panty set, fluff your hair, and use the app to video chat. Jack picks up immediately. You hadn’t communicated this way before. It was always over messages on the app. All you see is a tight white t-shirt on a broad torso. Big, tan, freckled biceps are folded over his chest. You could tell by his skin that he was older. His face is hidden from the camera.

You’re lying on your stomach, legs crossed in the air behind you. Your ass on display in the purple thong, your hands folded under your chin. He has an incredible view of your lace covered breasts. You smile as you speak, “How do you wanna do this? You wanna talk a little or just get down to business?”

Most of the time, these men were just lonely. They wanted someone to listen to them when they felt like they weren’t being heard on top of the sexy stuff. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” He confesses. You sit up, looking into the camera as you speak, “That’s okay. We can take it slow.” You assure him. “No. Uh.. I mean, I want this. I just don’t know what to expect.” He fidgets in his seat, the white t-shirt straining against his chest.

“Do you want me to just do what feels good for me or do you want to tell me what to do?” You give him a minute to think it over. His voice is gruff when he answers. “I’ll tell you what to do.” Your eyes light up. He has a sexy voice, you’re already wet just thinking about him giving you orders. He must have seen how eager you look because his whole demeanor changes. Now he sits straighter, more confidently. “Pull your tits out, but don’t take off your bra.” His first command has you slowly sliding the flimsy bra cups under your breasts. It pushes them up, the cool air of your room pebbling your nipples instantly.

Jack exhales. Those perfect tits that he touched himself to more times than he would like to admit were right there on the screen just for him. “Good girl.” He rasps. He could feel himself getting hard in his scrub pants. Just last evening before his shift, he had taken care of himself imagining what it would be like to feel his rough fingers on your soft skin, playing with your nipples. The sounds you would make as he would take a hardened peak between his lips. How your back would arch under him as he licked and sucked until you couldn’t take it anymore. Would you come just from that? The thought alone excited him.

“Pinch your nipples for me, sweetheart.” He orders as you throw your head back while you tweak them for him to see. “That’s it. Good girl.” You couldn’t believe how wet you were getting. Your typical sessions had you imagining your recent celebrity crush so you could get off. This was different. You found yourself imagining what he looked like. What it would be like if you were in the same room. You rub your thighs together unconsciously.

“Is Daddy’s good girl getting all worked up?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. You continue to pinch your nipples for him. “Yes, Daddy. I’m so wet for you.” You confess as a groan escapes him. He tilts his camera down, giving you a good view of his bottom half. He slides his chair back, taking off his underwear and pants. Jack wraps his hand around his thick cock. “See what you do to me, baby? God, you’re so beautiful. Go ahead and take those panties off. Let Daddy see that pretty pussy.”

You move your hands down your stomach, thumbs hooking into the sides of your purple lace thong. You bring it down your legs and toss it behind you on your bed. You lay down and open your legs, giving him a front row seat to his favorite show. “That’s it, baby. Now, show Daddy how you like to be touched.” You bring a hand down between your legs, fingers swiping through your slick heat. You gather the wetness there, your thumb circling your clit in slow circles.

You notice his arm moving, veins straining against his biceps as he works his cock. You moan at the sight, dipping two fingers into yourself pretending they are his thick fingers instead. You scissor them inside yourself, thumb rolling over your clit as you watch him touch himself. “Do you have any toys, sweetheart?” He asks, his thumb rubbing his precum over the head of him and back down again. You reach into your bedside table drawer and pull out a wand vibrator and a dildo, holding them up so he could see. “Is that one that suctions to things?” He asks, referring to the silicone cock.

You turn it around showing him that it is. He instructs you to place it on the chair in the corner of your room. You stand and bring the chair in front of the camera, securing it to the seat. You look at him expectantly, waiting for his next demand. “Good girl. Now ride that and pretend it’s me.” You don’t have to be told twice. Your sticky arousal is dripping down your thighs at this point. You straddle the chair and lower yourself onto it. You gasp as it fills you completely. He works himself faster as you start moving yourself on the toy. “I’m so full, Daddy. You’re so big.” You praise him, eyes on his perfect cock in his hand on the screen.

“Fuck.” He groans. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined myself between those pretty thighs, watching you arch into my touch while I wreck you, baby.” You rock back and forth on the toy cock, clenching around it as it touches your G-spot. “Can you reach your vibrator, sweetheart?” He asks, pumping himself. You look behind you on your bed where you left it, and grab it behind you.

You show it to the camera, eyes on him as he tilts his hips up to meet his hand as it comes back down against him. “Good, now use it on your clit. I wanna see you come for me. Can you do that for me, baby?” You turn it on, the hum of it mixing with both of your heavy breaths and desperate moans.

Your thighs tremble as you ride the silicone cock, the strong waves of the vibrator against your clit making your eyes roll back. “I’m so close.” You admit, your body slamming down as you fuck yourself, trying to chase the high that’s building low in your belly. “Good girl. That’s it. Come for Daddy. Let me see you fall apart for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the desperation you hear in his voice, the veins popping on his arm as he strokes himself while talking dirty to you, the fact that you upped the setting on your vibrator, or maybe a combo of all three but you soar over the edge. Tears prickle your eyes. Your vision blurs for a second. You cry out “Daddy” as you fall apart for him. “Fuck.” He grunts as spurts of his release paint his tight t-shirt making it cling deliciously to the skin underneath.

You slump back against the chair, breathing heavily as you watch the erotic scene on the screen. “Holy shit. That was hot.” You say, finally floating back down from the clouds. “Can I know your name?” You ask him hesitantly. It was something you never did. Some men gave their real names willingly, but this mysterious man kept his face hidden the entire time he rocked your world without even touching you.

You’re curious about him. “Jack” He answers. “Well Jack, maybe we could do that in person sometime?” You throw all your cards on the table. Fuck it. This man is worth meeting. “I’d love that.” He says, lifting his camera revealing the stupidly handsome, smirking silver fox who just gave you the best orgasm of your life through a computer screen.

Thankfully the patient is coherent enough to answer all your questions about allergies and medical history. You and Jack quickly diagnose him with a concussion, broken ribs, and a few deep cuts. “You were extremely lucky, Mr. Bradshaw.” You inform him as you clean the cut on his arm diligently. You finish the last stitch smiling at Jack in a “See, I’m not a complete screw up” kind of way when the patient’s monitors started going off. The man is now lying there unresponsive. “Mr. Bradshaw! Mr. Bradshaw!” You shake him trying to get a reaction.

You and Jack quickly get to work to revive him. You push the medicine into his IV. But now instead of curing him, he is shaking so hard you’re afraid he will accidentally throw himself into the floor. Jack glares at you, “What the fuck did you give him?” He demands, his gaze on you, muscular biceps on display crossed against his chest. You look at the vial again to make sure before answering when your heart drops into your ass. You accidentally administered the wrong medicine. You meant to give him something to make him better, but instead you gave him the medication he was allergic to.

The two medicines were so similar in spelling and you were so exhausted that you grabbed the wrong one. You hold your head down, refusing to look Jack in the eye as you answer. His jaw clenches, “What?” He growls, running a hand through his silver and gray curls. He rushes over, scooting you out of the way. “What do you need me to do?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t even look at you, “Stay out of my way.” He answers while giving Mr. Bradshaw something to counteract what you gave him. Your hands get clammy. You have never been more ashamed in your life.

You never made careless mistakes like this. You think of all the ways you should have done it differently. You knew you were exhausted, you should have checked at least ten times to make sure it was the correct medicine. The two names look nearly identical with just minor differences. You should have made sure. Now if Mr. Bradshaw dies, it’s completely your fault. You hold your breath watching as Jack does everything he can to save Mr. Bradshaw. Finally, after the longest three minutes of your life, Mr. Bradshaw’s monitors even out, going back to normal. You sigh in relief.

“I need a word with you. Now.” Jack commands, pulling off his gloves by the door. You do the same as you follow him out. You’re dreading this conversation. You had made so many errors tonight. This was not the level expected of a third year resident. Jack leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. When the lock clicks, you shiver, something about him being this angry made him even sexier.

Jack is a silver fox. He is hot, confident, intelligent, rugged. You know it’s wrong to think about him like that. He’s your superior. Not only that, but the age difference is significant. He made it impossible. It wasn’t just his looks you are attracted to, it’s his personality too. Now the man you fantasize about looks like he is going to fire you. He points a finger at you, Backing you up against the wall as he gets in your face. “You have two seconds to start telling me what is wrong with you today.” You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise. You’ve worked with him for three years and he had never lost control like this.

“I only got four hours of sleep. My mom called and it woke me up. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Now I’m exhausted and messing everything up. I am so sorry for what happened back there. It was completely my fault, and I know better.” You explain, knowing it’s no excuse. “You couldn’t tell me that at the start of the shift?! You should have given me a heads up, so I’d know to put you on light duty and keep an eye on you. I am so disappointed in you right now. What the hell were you thinking? You didn’t even ask me about the medicine before pushing it. I know I’ve been laidback with you and let you get away with more than I should. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault too. You are the most intelligent resident we have had since me! I trusted you enough to let you call some of the shots, and now you’ve just proven that I can no longer let that happen. You aren’t yourself tonight. My girl would never do anything as reckless as this.” He rips into you with angry words. He’s standing so close to you that his breath fans across your face.

Your heart rate speeds up from the proximity. He has you trapped against the wall with his body. His legs and hips pin you while he finishes his tirade. Your head spins from being so tired and something else entirely. Wait, did he just call you his girl? HIS GIRL?! As in HIS? He grips your chin with his calloused fingers, tilting your face upwards as his lips meet yours. The kiss is like how you imagined he felt right now. Furious. It was all teeth and bites, no gentle, sweet, hesitant pecks. He slides his tongue over yours and your legs feel like they might buckle. You whimper as he chuckles darkly, breaking the kiss. “What’s the matter, honey?” He teases as he nips your neck. You move your head to the side for him. His work phone rings, he answers with a gruff “Yeah?” He frowns, eyes flickering to you before hanging up. “City bus hit a man on the sidewalk. He’ll be here in ten.”

Jack grabs the sides of your scrubs, yanking your pants down your legs. “Guess that means we’ll have to be quick.” He kisses your neck, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. You arch into him as he pulls your panties to your ankles where your scrub pants are bunched up just above your shoes. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, honey. Bet you’ll look so pretty when I wreck you.” He snakes his hand up your scrub top, pulling your bra cup down. Rough fingers pinch your nipple “Let’s take a step back. I’m getting ahead of myself. Gotta get you nice and wet for me before I ruin you. Where do you wanna come first, pretty girl? On my fingers or on my tongue?”

Before you can answer, his large hand caresses your upper thigh just long enough to make you squirm when he dips two thick fingers inside of you. His calloused thumb draws short circles on your clit. He twists his fingers in time with a hard pinch to your nipple. Your orgasm slams into you embarrassingly fast, your hands finding solace on his thick biceps. You bury your face into his chest, trying to stifle the sounds he is drawing from you. His experienced fingers work their magic as he lets you ride out your pleasure. When he’s sure you’ve finished, he grabs your face to check on you.

“You good?” He asks, his voice much gentler than before. “You shake your head yes as Jack presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, a huge contrast to the rough way he pulled the orgasm from you. Maybe this shift wasn’t the worst one you’d ever worked after all. You look at Jack, not sure how to react after that. You were always comfortable around him and you sure as shit were not gonna mess that up. You search your foggy brain for something cheeky to say finally landing on “I was gonna choose your tongue.” You smile as your eyes sparkle with mischief.

Jack smirks, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. He struts over to the hospital bed and sits, your body still slung over him. He lowers the bed, laying back. “Let’s fix that.” He lifts you, positioning you just over his mouth. He grips your hips and pulls you down, chapped lips tugging on your clit. “Jack!” You squeal in surprise, still shook by how this night was turning out. You place a hand over your mouth, praying no one would hear you as you try to stifle a moan.

He sucks with pressure so perfect, your vision goes blurry. Your thighs lock around his head as he swipes your clit with quick flicks. You can’t believe this is happening. You look down at him between your legs to make sure you aren’t dreaming. You hope you never wake up if you are just imagining this. His eyes are closed as he moves his head, his tongue swirling against you. You definitely weren’t dreaming. Your legs tremble as he dips his tongue inside you, curling against that spot that makes you see stars. His nose brushes your clit as he fucks you with his tongue. You move with him, helping him reach all the right spots. Jack growls against you, loving how you’re reacting to him. He eats you with hungry laps, the unforgiving patterns he is licking against you make you so weak, you have to hold onto the bedside railing to stay upright.

His silver stubble scratches your inner thighs as you ride his face with abandon. You bring your free hand down to tangle in his gray curls. You can feel him whimper against you, the vibrations and knowing he was enjoying this too send white hot heat through you. You come apart as you move your hips, taking all the pleasure you can. He grips your thighs and holds you still as he licks you through your orgasm. He leans his head against your thighs, mouth and chin glistening with you. His eyes gleam with the same look he gives you when he is up to no good. Before you can even wonder what he has planned, he moves underneath you.

One second you’re above him, coming from the best head of your life. The next, you’re flipped on your back on the end of the bed. Jack crawls in between your legs, lifting your legs to accommodate him. Since your pants were still around your ankles, you couldn’t open your legs as far as you would like. Jack pulls his pants down over his hips. You look between you, eyes going wide. He’s huge. “It won’t fit.” You protest. There was no way. Jack leans down, biting your neck as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. “I’ll make it.” He growls. You cry out, no keeping that in. He’s destroying you in the best way. You take what he gives you, eyes rolled back every time he hits that perfect spot.

It’s never been like this with anyone. The bed is shaking, wheels scuffing the floor as they struggle to stay anchored in place. The way he is stretching you is unreal. He’s hitting places you never dreamed existed. You claw at his back as he fucks you into the small mattress. “How do I feel?” He presses his hard body down against you. “Perfect.” You answer, delirious with bliss. Jack reaches between you, rolling his skillful fingers over your clit. “I’m so close.” You confess, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Look at me while I take what’s mine.” He commands, as you obey instantly. Your eyes locked on his face. Jack drives into you like he’s hellbent on ruining you for anyone else. Knowing him, that was probably what he is going for. His hips snap forward nearly pushing you off the bed. You clench around him as he sends you into your third orgasm of the night. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose nuzzling your neck as he shudders through his release.

His work phone rings again, cutting through the pleasure fog and bringing you back to reality. “I’ll be right there” He growls into the phone. He untangles himself from you while he relays the message. “The patient just got to the ambulance bay. We need to go meet them.” He stands first, pulling his pants back up. You lay there, head still swimming from everything. “Are you okay?” You ask, tilting your head toward his leg, a worried expression on your face. You almost forgot he wears a prosthetic, and he just put you through the mattress. He smirks, adjusting his scrubs as he answers “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. You’re the one that’s going to be walking funny for the rest of the shift.” He laughs at his own quip as he walks out, leaving you alone as you try to stand on shaky legs.

Thankfully the patient is coherent enough to answer all your questions about allergies and medical history. You and Jack quickly diagnose him with a concussion, broken ribs, and a few deep cuts. “You were extremely lucky, Mr. Bradshaw.” You inform him as you clean the cut on his arm diligently. You finish the last stitch smiling at Jack in a “See, I’m not a complete screw up” kind of way when the patient’s monitors started going off. The man is now lying there unresponsive. “Mr. Bradshaw! Mr. Bradshaw!” You shake him trying to get a reaction.

You and Jack quickly get to work to revive him. You push the medicine into his IV. But now instead of curing him, he is shaking so hard you’re afraid he will accidentally throw himself into the floor. Jack glares at you, “What the fuck did you give him?” He demands, his gaze on you, muscular biceps on display crossed against his chest. You look at the vial again to make sure before answering when your heart drops into your ass. You accidentally administered the wrong medicine. You meant to give him something to make him better, but instead you gave him the medication he was allergic to.

The two medicines were so similar in spelling and you were so exhausted that you grabbed the wrong one. You hold your head down, refusing to look Jack in the eye as you answer. His jaw clenches, “What?” He growls, running a hand through his silver and gray curls. He rushes over, scooting you out of the way. “What do you need me to do?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t even look at you, “Stay out of my way.” He answers while giving Mr. Bradshaw something to counteract what you gave him. Your hands get clammy. You have never been more ashamed in your life.

You never made careless mistakes like this. You think of all the ways you should have done it differently. You knew you were exhausted, you should have checked at least ten times to make sure it was the correct medicine. The two names look nearly identical with just minor differences. You should have made sure. Now if Mr. Bradshaw dies, it’s completely your fault. You hold your breath watching as Jack does everything he can to save Mr. Bradshaw. Finally, after the longest three minutes of your life, Mr. Bradshaw’s monitors even out, going back to normal. You sigh in relief.

“I need a word with you. Now.” Jack commands, pulling off his gloves by the door. You do the same as you follow him out. You’re dreading this conversation. You had made so many errors tonight. This was not the level expected of a third year resident. Jack leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. When the lock clicks, you shiver, something about him being this angry made him even sexier.

Jack is a silver fox. He is hot, confident, intelligent, rugged. You know it’s wrong to think about him like that. He’s your superior. Not only that, but the age difference is significant. He made it impossible. It wasn’t just his looks you are attracted to, it’s his personality too. Now the man you fantasize about looks like he is going to fire you. He points a finger at you, Backing you up against the wall as he gets in your face. “You have two seconds to start telling me what is wrong with you today.” You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise. You’ve worked with him for three years and he had never lost control like this.

“I only got four hours of sleep. My mom called and it woke me up. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Now I’m exhausted and messing everything up. I am so sorry for what happened back there. It was completely my fault, and I know better.” You explain, knowing it’s no excuse. “You couldn’t tell me that at the start of the shift?! You should have given me a heads up, so I’d know to put you on light duty and keep an eye on you. I am so disappointed in you right now. What the hell were you thinking? You didn’t even ask me about the medicine before pushing it. I know I’ve been laidback with you and let you get away with more than I should. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault too. You are the most intelligent resident we have had since me! I trusted you enough to let you call some of the shots, and now you’ve just proven that I can no longer let that happen. You aren’t yourself tonight. My girl would never do anything as reckless as this.” He rips into you with angry words. He’s standing so close to you that his breath fans across your face.

Your heart rate speeds up from the proximity. He has you trapped against the wall with his body. His legs and hips pin you while he finishes his tirade. Your head spins from being so tired and something else entirely. Wait, did he just call you his girl? HIS GIRL?! As in HIS? He grips your chin with his calloused fingers, tilting your face upwards as his lips meet yours. The kiss is like how you imagined he felt right now. Furious. It was all teeth and bites, no gentle, sweet, hesitant pecks. He slides his tongue over yours and your legs feel like they might buckle. You whimper as he chuckles darkly, breaking the kiss. “What’s the matter, honey?” He teases as he nips your neck. You move your head to the side for him. His work phone rings, he answers with a gruff “Yeah?” He frowns, eyes flickering to you before hanging up. “City bus hit a man on the sidewalk. He’ll be here in ten.”

Jack grabs the sides of your scrubs, yanking your pants down your legs. “Guess that means we’ll have to be quick.” He kisses your neck, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. You arch into him as he pulls your panties to your ankles where your scrub pants are bunched up just above your shoes. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, honey. Bet you’ll look so pretty when I wreck you.” He snakes his hand up your scrub top, pulling your bra cup down. Rough fingers pinch your nipple “Let’s take a step back. I’m getting ahead of myself. Gotta get you nice and wet for me before I ruin you. Where do you wanna come first, pretty girl? On my fingers or on my tongue?”

Before you can answer, his large hand caresses your upper thigh just long enough to make you squirm when he dips two thick fingers inside of you. His calloused thumb draws short circles on your clit. He twists his fingers in time with a hard pinch to your nipple. Your orgasm slams into you embarrassingly fast, your hands finding solace on his thick biceps. You bury your face into his chest, trying to stifle the sounds he is drawing from you. His experienced fingers work their magic as he lets you ride out your pleasure. When he’s sure you’ve finished, he grabs your face to check on you.

“You good?” He asks, his voice much gentler than before. “You shake your head yes as Jack presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, a huge contrast to the rough way he pulled the orgasm from you. Maybe this shift wasn’t the worst one you’d ever worked after all. You look at Jack, not sure how to react after that. You were always comfortable around him and you sure as shit were not gonna mess that up. You search your foggy brain for something cheeky to say finally landing on “I was gonna choose your tongue.” You smile as your eyes sparkle with mischief.

Jack smirks, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. He struts over to the hospital bed and sits, your body still slung over him. He lowers the bed, laying back. “Let’s fix that.” He lifts you, positioning you just over his mouth. He grips your hips and pulls you down, chapped lips tugging on your clit. “Jack!” You squeal in surprise, still shook by how this night was turning out. You place a hand over your mouth, praying no one would hear you as you try to stifle a moan.

He sucks with pressure so perfect, your vision goes blurry. Your thighs lock around his head as he swipes your clit with quick flicks. You can’t believe this is happening. You look down at him between your legs to make sure you aren’t dreaming. You hope you never wake up if you are just imagining this. His eyes are closed as he moves his head, his tongue swirling against you. You definitely weren’t dreaming. Your legs tremble as he dips his tongue inside you, curling against that spot that makes you see stars. His nose brushes your clit as he fucks you with his tongue. You move with him, helping him reach all the right spots. Jack growls against you, loving how you’re reacting to him. He eats you with hungry laps, the unforgiving patterns he is licking against you make you so weak, you have to hold onto the bedside railing to stay upright.

His silver stubble scratches your inner thighs as you ride his face with abandon. You bring your free hand down to tangle in his gray curls. You can feel him whimper against you, the vibrations and knowing he was enjoying this too send white hot heat through you. You come apart as you move your hips, taking all the pleasure you can. He grips your thighs and holds you still as he licks you through your orgasm. He leans his head against your thighs, mouth and chin glistening with you. His eyes gleam with the same look he gives you when he is up to no good. Before you can even wonder what he has planned, he moves underneath you.

One second you’re above him, coming from the best head of your life. The next, you’re flipped on your back on the end of the bed. Jack crawls in between your legs, lifting your legs to accommodate him. Since your pants were still around your ankles, you couldn’t open your legs as far as you would like. Jack pulls his pants down over his hips. You look between you, eyes going wide. He’s huge. “It won’t fit.” You protest. There was no way. Jack leans down, biting your neck as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. “I’ll make it.” He growls. You cry out, no keeping that in. He’s destroying you in the best way. You take what he gives you, eyes rolled back every time he hits that perfect spot.

It’s never been like this with anyone. The bed is shaking, wheels scuffing the floor as they struggle to stay anchored in place. The way he is stretching you is unreal. He’s hitting places you never dreamed existed. You claw at his back as he fucks you into the small mattress. “How do I feel?” He presses his hard body down against you. “Perfect.” You answer, delirious with bliss. Jack reaches between you, rolling his skillful fingers over your clit. “I’m so close.” You confess, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Look at me while I take what’s mine.” He commands, as you obey instantly. Your eyes locked on his face. Jack drives into you like he’s hellbent on ruining you for anyone else. Knowing him, that was probably what he is going for. His hips snap forward nearly pushing you off the bed. You clench around him as he sends you into your third orgasm of the night. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose nuzzling your neck as he shudders through his release.

His work phone rings again, cutting through the pleasure fog and bringing you back to reality. “I’ll be right there” He growls into the phone. He untangles himself from you while he relays the message. “The patient just got to the ambulance bay. We need to go meet them.” He stands first, pulling his pants back up. You lay there, head still swimming from everything. “Are you okay?” You ask, tilting your head toward his leg, a worried expression on your face. You almost forgot he wears a prosthetic, and he just put you through the mattress. He smirks, adjusting his scrubs as he answers “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. You’re the one that’s going to be walking funny for the rest of the shift.” He laughs at his own quip as he walks out, leaving you alone as you try to stand on shaky legs.

Thankfully the patient is coherent enough to answer all your questions about allergies and medical history. You and Jack quickly diagnose him with a concussion, broken ribs, and a few deep cuts. “You were extremely lucky, Mr. Bradshaw.” You inform him as you clean the cut on his arm diligently. You finish the last stitch smiling at Jack in a “See, I’m not a complete screw up” kind of way when the patient’s monitors started going off. The man is now lying there unresponsive. “Mr. Bradshaw! Mr. Bradshaw!” You shake him trying to get a reaction.

You and Jack quickly get to work to revive him. You push the medicine into his IV. But now instead of curing him, he is shaking so hard you’re afraid he will accidentally throw himself into the floor. Jack glares at you, “What the fuck did you give him?” He demands, his gaze on you, muscular biceps on display crossed against his chest. You look at the vial again to make sure before answering when your heart drops into your ass. You accidentally administered the wrong medicine. You meant to give him something to make him better, but instead you gave him the medication he was allergic to.

The two medicines were so similar in spelling and you were so exhausted that you grabbed the wrong one. You hold your head down, refusing to look Jack in the eye as you answer. His jaw clenches, “What?” He growls, running a hand through his silver and gray curls. He rushes over, scooting you out of the way. “What do you need me to do?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t even look at you, “Stay out of my way.” He answers while giving Mr. Bradshaw something to counteract what you gave him. Your hands get clammy. You have never been more ashamed in your life.

You never made careless mistakes like this. You think of all the ways you should have done it differently. You knew you were exhausted, you should have checked at least ten times to make sure it was the correct medicine. The two names look nearly identical with just minor differences. You should have made sure. Now if Mr. Bradshaw dies, it’s completely your fault. You hold your breath watching as Jack does everything he can to save Mr. Bradshaw. Finally, after the longest three minutes of your life, Mr. Bradshaw’s monitors even out, going back to normal. You sigh in relief.

“I need a word with you. Now.” Jack commands, pulling off his gloves by the door. You do the same as you follow him out. You’re dreading this conversation. You had made so many errors tonight. This was not the level expected of a third year resident. Jack leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. When the lock clicks, you shiver, something about him being this angry made him even sexier.

Jack is a silver fox. He is hot, confident, intelligent, rugged. You know it’s wrong to think about him like that. He’s your superior. Not only that, but the age difference is significant. He made it impossible. It wasn’t just his looks you are attracted to, it’s his personality too. Now the man you fantasize about looks like he is going to fire you. He points a finger at you, Backing you up against the wall as he gets in your face. “You have two seconds to start telling me what is wrong with you today.” You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise. You’ve worked with him for three years and he had never lost control like this.

“I only got four hours of sleep. My mom called and it woke me up. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Now I’m exhausted and messing everything up. I am so sorry for what happened back there. It was completely my fault, and I know better.” You explain, knowing it’s no excuse. “You couldn’t tell me that at the start of the shift?! You should have given me a heads up, so I’d know to put you on light duty and keep an eye on you. I am so disappointed in you right now. What the hell were you thinking? You didn’t even ask me about the medicine before pushing it. I know I’ve been laidback with you and let you get away with more than I should. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault too. You are the most intelligent resident we have had since me! I trusted you enough to let you call some of the shots, and now you’ve just proven that I can no longer let that happen. You aren’t yourself tonight. My girl would never do anything as reckless as this.” He rips into you with angry words. He’s standing so close to you that his breath fans across your face.

Your heart rate speeds up from the proximity. He has you trapped against the wall with his body. His legs and hips pin you while he finishes his tirade. Your head spins from being so tired and something else entirely. Wait, did he just call you his girl? HIS GIRL?! As in HIS? He grips your chin with his calloused fingers, tilting your face upwards as his lips meet yours. The kiss is like how you imagined he felt right now. Furious. It was all teeth and bites, no gentle, sweet, hesitant pecks. He slides his tongue over yours and your legs feel like they might buckle. You whimper as he chuckles darkly, breaking the kiss. “What’s the matter, honey?” He teases as he nips your neck. You move your head to the side for him. His work phone rings, he answers with a gruff “Yeah?” He frowns, eyes flickering to you before hanging up. “City bus hit a man on the sidewalk. He’ll be here in ten.”

Jack grabs the sides of your scrubs, yanking your pants down your legs. “Guess that means we’ll have to be quick.” He kisses your neck, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. You arch into him as he pulls your panties to your ankles where your scrub pants are bunched up just above your shoes. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, honey. Bet you’ll look so pretty when I wreck you.” He snakes his hand up your scrub top, pulling your bra cup down. Rough fingers pinch your nipple “Let’s take a step back. I’m getting ahead of myself. Gotta get you nice and wet for me before I ruin you. Where do you wanna come first, pretty girl? On my fingers or on my tongue?”

Before you can answer, his large hand caresses your upper thigh just long enough to make you squirm when he dips two thick fingers inside of you. His calloused thumb draws short circles on your clit. He twists his fingers in time with a hard pinch to your nipple. Your orgasm slams into you embarrassingly fast, your hands finding solace on his thick biceps. You bury your face into his chest, trying to stifle the sounds he is drawing from you. His experienced fingers work their magic as he lets you ride out your pleasure. When he’s sure you’ve finished, he grabs your face to check on you.

“You good?” He asks, his voice much gentler than before. “You shake your head yes as Jack presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, a huge contrast to the rough way he pulled the orgasm from you. Maybe this shift wasn’t the worst one you’d ever worked after all. You look at Jack, not sure how to react after that. You were always comfortable around him and you sure as shit were not gonna mess that up. You search your foggy brain for something cheeky to say finally landing on “I was gonna choose your tongue.” You smile as your eyes sparkle with mischief.

Jack smirks, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. He struts over to the hospital bed and sits, your body still slung over him. He lowers the bed, laying back. “Let’s fix that.” He lifts you, positioning you just over his mouth. He grips your hips and pulls you down, chapped lips tugging on your clit. “Jack!” You squeal in surprise, still shook by how this night was turning out. You place a hand over your mouth, praying no one would hear you as you try to stifle a moan.

He sucks with pressure so perfect, your vision goes blurry. Your thighs lock around his head as he swipes your clit with quick flicks. You can’t believe this is happening. You look down at him between your legs to make sure you aren’t dreaming. You hope you never wake up if you are just imagining this. His eyes are closed as he moves his head, his tongue swirling against you. You definitely weren’t dreaming. Your legs tremble as he dips his tongue inside you, curling against that spot that makes you see stars. His nose brushes your clit as he fucks you with his tongue. You move with him, helping him reach all the right spots. Jack growls against you, loving how you’re reacting to him. He eats you with hungry laps, the unforgiving patterns he is licking against you make you so weak, you have to hold onto the bedside railing to stay upright.

His silver stubble scratches your inner thighs as you ride his face with abandon. You bring your free hand down to tangle in his gray curls. You can feel him whimper against you, the vibrations and knowing he was enjoying this too send white hot heat through you. You come apart as you move your hips, taking all the pleasure you can. He grips your thighs and holds you still as he licks you through your orgasm. He leans his head against your thighs, mouth and chin glistening with you. His eyes gleam with the same look he gives you when he is up to no good. Before you can even wonder what he has planned, he moves underneath you.

One second you’re above him, coming from the best head of your life. The next, you’re flipped on your back on the end of the bed. Jack crawls in between your legs, lifting your legs to accommodate him. Since your pants were still around your ankles, you couldn’t open your legs as far as you would like. Jack pulls his pants down over his hips. You look between you, eyes going wide. He’s huge. “It won’t fit.” You protest. There was no way. Jack leans down, biting your neck as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. “I’ll make it.” He growls. You cry out, no keeping that in. He’s destroying you in the best way. You take what he gives you, eyes rolled back every time he hits that perfect spot.

It’s never been like this with anyone. The bed is shaking, wheels scuffing the floor as they struggle to stay anchored in place. The way he is stretching you is unreal. He’s hitting places you never dreamed existed. You claw at his back as he fucks you into the small mattress. “How do I feel?” He presses his hard body down against you. “Perfect.” You answer, delirious with bliss. Jack reaches between you, rolling his skillful fingers over your clit. “I’m so close.” You confess, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Look at me while I take what’s mine.” He commands, as you obey instantly. Your eyes locked on his face. Jack drives into you like he’s hellbent on ruining you for anyone else. Knowing him, that was probably what he is going for. His hips snap forward nearly pushing you off the bed. You clench around him as he sends you into your third orgasm of the night. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose nuzzling your neck as he shudders through his release.

His work phone rings again, cutting through the pleasure fog and bringing you back to reality. “I’ll be right there” He growls into the phone. He untangles himself from you while he relays the message. “The patient just got to the ambulance bay. We need to go meet them.” He stands first, pulling his pants back up. You lay there, head still swimming from everything. “Are you okay?” You ask, tilting your head toward his leg, a worried expression on your face. You almost forgot he wears a prosthetic, and he just put you through the mattress. He smirks, adjusting his scrubs as he answers “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. You’re the one that’s going to be walking funny for the rest of the shift.” He laughs at his own quip as he walks out, leaving you alone as you try to stand on shaky legs.

Thankfully the patient is coherent enough to answer all your questions about allergies and medical history. You and Jack quickly diagnose him with a concussion, broken ribs, and a few deep cuts. “You were extremely lucky, Mr. Bradshaw.” You inform him as you clean the cut on his arm diligently. You finish the last stitch smiling at Jack in a “See, I’m not a complete screw up” kind of way when the patient’s monitors started going off. The man is now lying there unresponsive. “Mr. Bradshaw! Mr. Bradshaw!” You shake him trying to get a reaction.

You and Jack quickly get to work to revive him. You push the medicine into his IV. But now instead of curing him, he is shaking so hard you’re afraid he will accidentally throw himself into the floor. Jack glares at you, “What the fuck did you give him?” He demands, his gaze on you, muscular biceps on display crossed against his chest. You look at the vial again to make sure before answering when your heart drops into your ass. You accidentally administered the wrong medicine. You meant to give him something to make him better, but instead you gave him the medication he was allergic to.

The two medicines were so similar in spelling and you were so exhausted that you grabbed the wrong one. You hold your head down, refusing to look Jack in the eye as you answer. His jaw clenches, “What?” He growls, running a hand through his silver and gray curls. He rushes over, scooting you out of the way. “What do you need me to do?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t even look at you, “Stay out of my way.” He answers while giving Mr. Bradshaw something to counteract what you gave him. Your hands get clammy. You have never been more ashamed in your life.

You never made careless mistakes like this. You think of all the ways you should have done it differently. You knew you were exhausted, you should have checked at least ten times to make sure it was the correct medicine. The two names look nearly identical with just minor differences. You should have made sure. Now if Mr. Bradshaw dies, it’s completely your fault. You hold your breath watching as Jack does everything he can to save Mr. Bradshaw. Finally, after the longest three minutes of your life, Mr. Bradshaw’s monitors even out, going back to normal. You sigh in relief.

“I need a word with you. Now.” Jack commands, pulling off his gloves by the door. You do the same as you follow him out. You’re dreading this conversation. You had made so many errors tonight. This was not the level expected of a third year resident. Jack leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. When the lock clicks, you shiver, something about him being this angry made him even sexier.

Jack is a silver fox. He is hot, confident, intelligent, rugged. You know it’s wrong to think about him like that. He’s your superior. Not only that, but the age difference is significant. He made it impossible. It wasn’t just his looks you are attracted to, it’s his personality too. Now the man you fantasize about looks like he is going to fire you. He points a finger at you, Backing you up against the wall as he gets in your face. “You have two seconds to start telling me what is wrong with you today.” You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise. You’ve worked with him for three years and he had never lost control like this.

“I only got four hours of sleep. My mom called and it woke me up. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Now I’m exhausted and messing everything up. I am so sorry for what happened back there. It was completely my fault, and I know better.” You explain, knowing it’s no excuse. “You couldn’t tell me that at the start of the shift?! You should have given me a heads up, so I’d know to put you on light duty and keep an eye on you. I am so disappointed in you right now. What the hell were you thinking? You didn’t even ask me about the medicine before pushing it. I know I’ve been laidback with you and let you get away with more than I should. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault too. You are the most intelligent resident we have had since me! I trusted you enough to let you call some of the shots, and now you’ve just proven that I can no longer let that happen. You aren’t yourself tonight. My girl would never do anything as reckless as this.” He rips into you with angry words. He’s standing so close to you that his breath fans across your face.

Your heart rate speeds up from the proximity. He has you trapped against the wall with his body. His legs and hips pin you while he finishes his tirade. Your head spins from being so tired and something else entirely. Wait, did he just call you his girl? HIS GIRL?! As in HIS? He grips your chin with his calloused fingers, tilting your face upwards as his lips meet yours. The kiss is like how you imagined he felt right now. Furious. It was all teeth and bites, no gentle, sweet, hesitant pecks. He slides his tongue over yours and your legs feel like they might buckle. You whimper as he chuckles darkly, breaking the kiss. “What’s the matter, honey?” He teases as he nips your neck. You move your head to the side for him. His work phone rings, he answers with a gruff “Yeah?” He frowns, eyes flickering to you before hanging up. “City bus hit a man on the sidewalk. He’ll be here in ten.”

Jack grabs the sides of your scrubs, yanking your pants down your legs. “Guess that means we’ll have to be quick.” He kisses your neck, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. You arch into him as he pulls your panties to your ankles where your scrub pants are bunched up just above your shoes. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, honey. Bet you’ll look so pretty when I wreck you.” He snakes his hand up your scrub top, pulling your bra cup down. Rough fingers pinch your nipple “Let’s take a step back. I’m getting ahead of myself. Gotta get you nice and wet for me before I ruin you. Where do you wanna come first, pretty girl? On my fingers or on my tongue?”

Before you can answer, his large hand caresses your upper thigh just long enough to make you squirm when he dips two thick fingers inside of you. His calloused thumb draws short circles on your clit. He twists his fingers in time with a hard pinch to your nipple. Your orgasm slams into you embarrassingly fast, your hands finding solace on his thick biceps. You bury your face into his chest, trying to stifle the sounds he is drawing from you. His experienced fingers work their magic as he lets you ride out your pleasure. When he’s sure you’ve finished, he grabs your face to check on you.

“You good?” He asks, his voice much gentler than before. “You shake your head yes as Jack presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, a huge contrast to the rough way he pulled the orgasm from you. Maybe this shift wasn’t the worst one you’d ever worked after all. You look at Jack, not sure how to react after that. You were always comfortable around him and you sure as shit were not gonna mess that up. You search your foggy brain for something cheeky to say finally landing on “I was gonna choose your tongue.” You smile as your eyes sparkle with mischief.

Jack smirks, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. He struts over to the hospital bed and sits, your body still slung over him. He lowers the bed, laying back. “Let’s fix that.” He lifts you, positioning you just over his mouth. He grips your hips and pulls you down, chapped lips tugging on your clit. “Jack!” You squeal in surprise, still shook by how this night was turning out. You place a hand over your mouth, praying no one would hear you as you try to stifle a moan.

He sucks with pressure so perfect, your vision goes blurry. Your thighs lock around his head as he swipes your clit with quick flicks. You can’t believe this is happening. You look down at him between your legs to make sure you aren’t dreaming. You hope you never wake up if you are just imagining this. His eyes are closed as he moves his head, his tongue swirling against you. You definitely weren’t dreaming. Your legs tremble as he dips his tongue inside you, curling against that spot that makes you see stars. His nose brushes your clit as he fucks you with his tongue. You move with him, helping him reach all the right spots. Jack growls against you, loving how you’re reacting to him. He eats you with hungry laps, the unforgiving patterns he is licking against you make you so weak, you have to hold onto the bedside railing to stay upright.

His silver stubble scratches your inner thighs as you ride his face with abandon. You bring your free hand down to tangle in his gray curls. You can feel him whimper against you, the vibrations and knowing he was enjoying this too send white hot heat through you. You come apart as you move your hips, taking all the pleasure you can. He grips your thighs and holds you still as he licks you through your orgasm. He leans his head against your thighs, mouth and chin glistening with you. His eyes gleam with the same look he gives you when he is up to no good. Before you can even wonder what he has planned, he moves underneath you.

One second you’re above him, coming from the best head of your life. The next, you’re flipped on your back on the end of the bed. Jack crawls in between your legs, lifting your legs to accommodate him. Since your pants were still around your ankles, you couldn’t open your legs as far as you would like. Jack pulls his pants down over his hips. You look between you, eyes going wide. He’s huge. “It won’t fit.” You protest. There was no way. Jack leans down, biting your neck as he slams into you with a powerful thrust. “I’ll make it.” He growls. You cry out, no keeping that in. He’s destroying you in the best way. You take what he gives you, eyes rolled back every time he hits that perfect spot.

It’s never been like this with anyone. The bed is shaking, wheels scuffing the floor as they struggle to stay anchored in place. The way he is stretching you is unreal. He’s hitting places you never dreamed existed. You claw at his back as he fucks you into the small mattress. “How do I feel?” He presses his hard body down against you. “Perfect.” You answer, delirious with bliss. Jack reaches between you, rolling his skillful fingers over your clit. “I’m so close.” You confess, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Look at me while I take what’s mine.” He commands, as you obey instantly. Your eyes locked on his face. Jack drives into you like he’s hellbent on ruining you for anyone else. Knowing him, that was probably what he is going for. His hips snap forward nearly pushing you off the bed. You clench around him as he sends you into your third orgasm of the night. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose nuzzling your neck as he shudders through his release.

His work phone rings again, cutting through the pleasure fog and bringing you back to reality. “I’ll be right there” He growls into the phone. He untangles himself from you while he relays the message. “The patient just got to the ambulance bay. We need to go meet them.” He stands first, pulling his pants back up. You lay there, head still swimming from everything. “Are you okay?” You ask, tilting your head toward his leg, a worried expression on your face. You almost forgot he wears a prosthetic, and he just put you through the mattress. He smirks, adjusting his scrubs as he answers “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. You’re the one that’s going to be walking funny for the rest of the shift.” He laughs at his own quip as he walks out, leaving you alone as you try to stand on shaky legs.