Everybody Scream!!

You roll your eyes. “You are so dramatic.”

The cart wheels squeak along the carpet as you busy yourself with grabbing another stack of returns. Steve follows you, clearly bothered by your lack of enthusiasm for this particular conversation. But instead of helping you stock the shelves, he just leans against one, facing you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“So, you’re telling me, that if someone said you were a bad kisser, you wouldn’t be upset?” 

You shrug. “Maybe. But everybody’s different. I mean, maybe she just wasn’t a fan of—” you gesture at him unhelpfully. The overhead light buzzes above you, and he rakes his hand through his hair again, eyes catching on yours. 

“—whatever is is you do when you kiss. I don’t know. Maybe she prefers less tongue. Or more…” 

You’re rambling now and your face feels hot, so you snap your mouth shut. 

A crease builds between Steve’s eyebrows. You try to turn away, but his hand shoots out and grabs your waist. 

“Oh, c’mon. Here, just—”

“What are you doing?” You gasp, reaching up to shove at his chest, but he’s so warm under your hands that you can’t quite do it. 

“Just kiss me,” he murmurs. “Just for a second.”

 “Are you kidding me?” You hiss. “She hurt your ego that bad, huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes but he doesn’t let you go. “Please? Just one.” He hesitates, then adds. “Maybe two. I don’t know, I need a second opinion here.”

“Steve—we’re working!” You try to protest, but your voice breaks as Steve’s nose bumps yours, stomach swooping. Pressed this close to him, you can smell the hairspray in his hair, and the faint hint of cologne. 

“It’s just one kiss! Besides, no one ever comes in after eight p.m. anyway, and you know it.”

“Fine. Just one—”

You barely utter your permission before his lips brush across yours, locking together just right. You stay perfectly still as he focuses first on your top lip, then your bottom. His mouth is warm, and soft, and he kisses you so gently, so tentatively, you almost forget to breathe. 

A slow syrupy warmth settles in your stomach, and you begin to kiss him back. But before you can really do it properly, his lips leave yours with a soft exhale, and he leans back, watching your face. 

“Well?” 

You swallow hard. “Um. I mean, that was good, but…”

“But what?” he asks eagerly. 

“Well, it’s just…a little tame, but that’s fine. Did you just kiss her like that? Or—”

He leans in again before you can continue, and this time, there’s a heat to it that wasn’t there before. Your lips part on instinct, and he groans softly into your mouth when your tongue brushes against his. A tiny gasp slips out as his fingers find the warm skin under your shirt, hauling you closer. 

The kiss doesn’t feel performative, but rather…real. It feels real. Like he forgot all about his date, and it’s just…you and him…right here on a quiet Friday night shift.

His hand finds the nape of your neck, coaxing your chin back further, and you whimper softly at the new angle. As your mouths meet and part in the silence of the store, every part of you feels alive. 

Your breath comes in soft little pants, and he pulls your body flush against his, his back pressing into the shelves. 

Your nails scratch against his vest as you claw at him for purchase and he murmurs a wordless encouragement, like that sound alone is doing something for him. A stray lock of his hair tickles your forehead and you brush it back without thinking, threading your fingers through his hair. 

He moans into your mouth, but when you break the kiss, he exhales sharply, ducking his head again and chasing your lips.

“‘M not done,” he whispers before kissing you again. Your brows draw together when his teeth graze your bottom lip. 

God, it’s incredible. 

His fingers splay possessively around your hip, sliding into the small of your back, pressing you closer as he kisses you hungrily. 

When he pulls back, your eyes stay closed for several seconds, lashes fluttering. Your body aches, but in a good way. Like you need more, but somehow, it won’t ever be enough. 

“God, Steve—” you whimper helplessly. 

He laughs softly. “Okay. So...what if I said I’ve been thinking about doing that for a really long time. Would that ruin the review?”

Even through the confidence in his tone, there’s a quiet vulnerability threaded through his words. 

You pretend to think hard about it. “I don’t know, it might skew the results slightly. You picked a bit of a biased partner, here.”

He laughs, and his fingers caress your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “Be honest. It was good, right?”

You smirk up at him. “Yeah, uh…no notes.”

“Thank you!” He smiles. “See, that’s what I’m saying. That’s a five-star kiss. Easy.”

“I don’t know. Five stars are hard to come by, Harrington.” The fabric of his shirt bunches in your hand as you pull him back down. “But you could try again.”

a/n: It's my canon that his date was just hung up on her ex, and Steve was the unlucky rebound that night. Plus, Steve wasn't that into it. Because he was thinking about you, obviously. Also, here is the smutty sister fic if you care lol

Yes he got invited in, and yes there was kissing involved. But it didn’t go beyond that. And somehow Steve wasn’t disappointed. 

Steve’s lips crashed against yours like water against a bridge. Other times they molded onto your skin like when waves flow against the beach. 

And now you’ve got him all sappy thinking about your kisses in stupid beach metaphors. Next he’s going to go onto your touch and then your voice. Maybe about how you even looked at him like the sunset. 

Steve genuinely can’t stop thinking about you. Or the date. Or when he gets to take you out again. Hopefully tonight because anything beyond that sounds too painful. 

“Hey dingus! You still with me?” 

Robin waves a hand in-front of Steve’s face, he’s been staring out the windows of the video store for too long, lost in his own head. 

Steve doesn’t want to be here right now. He wants to be at home maybe getting you roses or thinking about how he could draft a poem about your laugh. Oh gosh that sounded too whipped. 

“Yeah… yeah I’m here.” 

Steve straightens his back with a sigh, putting the dvds on top of each other. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Robin crosses her arms; she doesn’t like being ignored when they’re the only two people in the store.

“Nobody, I mean-- nothing.” 

Steve sighs again already watching robins eyebrows raise in question. 

“Oh yeah? So it has nothing to do with that?” 

She points down. Steve was so much in his own lover boy head that he didn’t even realize he was straining against his jeans. Dick hard and pushed up against the zipper. 

“Robin what the fuck.”

His hand comes down to palm himself and he scoots the chair more under the counter for less peering eyes. 

“Don’t what the fuck me. Did you have a good time last night?” 

He had the greatest time. Turns out you liked all of Steve’s lame ass jokes and hesitant touches. You paired so well together and Steve could say something about how you were practically made to fit into his hands and mold against him but that sounds corny. 

It’s also not what Robin is insinuating. 

“No i—“ Steve’s dick twitches as he tries to make it go down. He has to start thinking about something else. “I don’t know why this is happening.” 

Robin stays silent so Steve looks up. She already has both her eyebrows raised like she’s unimpressed he’s lying to her. 

“I don’t!” 

Steve hisses and rubs at his forehead. His mind didn’t even wonder to anything that sexual, just your sweet kisses. And how maybe someday he will buy a house with the intent to make a family with you in it. He’s already decided that if you want a dog then he’ll get a dog. There could be flowers— or a heated pool in the back yard. Is it too soon to say he wants kids with you? What the hell, that is way too fast. And also his hard dick is not backing down.

“Uh huh. Look just don’t get a Bonner around me. It’s fucking weird.” 

He scoffs, as if it’s just that easy.

“You’re just jealous I have a pretty girl to think about and you don’t.” 

“Ooo… You’re just jealous that you don’t have a pretty girl— shut up.” 

Robin does a bad mimicking of his voice and it’s hard not to crack a smile. Amongst other hard things, the smile was actually easy to hide. 

“Look— can you just, run the shop for a while?” 

“So you can go jerk off? No.” 

“I’m not going to—“ Steve sighs and runs another hand down his face. He’s already picking up the phone. 

“I need to make a call.” 

Another date reservation. With you. 

But he’d seen you fold your arms around Will and Lucas at the same time and promise them pizza next weekend and all Steve could see was the future mother of his children. 

And so much had been taken from the two of you already; innocence, peace, time. He didn’t want to waste another second.

So he’d picked up the ring from the sienna colored carpet and got down on one knee and spilled his guts in front of everyone. 

And when you’d said yes, it had felt like a breath of fresh air. Felt like reclaiming what had been stolen.

Dustin had screeched in excitement like a wild animal and Max and El started jumping on the couch and started planning the party before the tears had even dried from the corners of your eyes.

There’s a lot of things that went wrong from then until now. The caterer had bailed at the last minute and Mrs. Wheeler had borrowed every roaster on the block to make enough roasted chicken to feed everyone.

Steve couldn’t do his hair like he wanted that morning, could never do it quite the way you could, so he’d sat with his eyes closed tightly while you used that Farrah Fawcett hairspray and styled his hair in your wedding dress.

He hadn’t peeked, though he wanted to. But Steve had felt the brush of both silk and lace and knew the smell of your perfume from memory. 

The strap of your heel broke, so Joyce had glued it to the side of your ankle with liquid bandage and after the church ceremony, you’d spent the rest of your time in those beat up sneakers you always wore. 

And on top of everything else, there was still the looming question about Vecna’s unconfirmed death that hung like a dark cloud in your mind.

But still. Even with all that had gone wrong, the Harrington wedding had turned out perfectly. 

There isn’t a single thing about it that Steve would change. 

Not when everything leads him here. Standing off to the side of the dance floor, finding a moment of quiet to himself for the first time all day.

There’s a glass bottle of beer in his hand and he clinks his ring finger against the side of it, hearing the ting it makes and reveling in it.

He watches you and sees the rest of his life.

You’re in the middle of the dance floor. The glittering pins in your hair sit a little askew now, and the bottom seam of your white dress has grown dusty. But Steve thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do at this precise moment. 

You’re dancing with Max and El. Swaying your hips and twirling them in circles. They’re smiling hard with exertion-reddened cheeks and giggling so loud that Steve can hear them over the steady thrum of music. 

A widespread grin stretches across your pretty mouth. Finding just as much joy in the moment as the two girls who idolize you. 

There’s this light behind your eyes when you look at them. A soft adoration, a maternal instinct deeply ingrained.

It only serves to reassure Steve impossibly more that you’re perfect for him.

He feels giddy with excitement, thinking of what’s to come. Thinking about how ten years from now he’ll be coming home from a long day at work to see you dancing just like this, except you won’t be on a dance floor. 

Instead, you’ll be in the middle of the kitchen in the home you share with him. There will be soft music on the radio and food on the stove and you’ll be spinning two little toddlers that hopefully have your eyes and your nose and your smile.

He wants to fill the house with your children, truthfully. Wants to lay awake at night hearing giggles from boys who are up well past their bedtime and trip over princess dresses in the hallway and spend Saturday afternoons at the ice cream parlor. He wants to argue about bath time and eating peas with dinner and why the pink cup is no better than the green one. 

Steve wants it all. And he wants it with you—his beautiful, sweet girl.

His wife.

Something shifts inside him. Something equal parts desire and devotion.

He sets the bottle in his hands on the nearest table, and makes his way to you. His suit jacket is long gone, and he’s got the sleeves of his dress shirt pushed up to his elbows. 

You have your back turned to him as you and Max try to demonstrate a terrible example of salsa dancing to El. But as he nears, you smile at him over your shoulder. As if you’d known he was coming, as if you could feel him like a secondary part of yourself. 

Steve holds his hand out to you, palm up and open. “You guys mind if I steal my bride back for a little bit?”

Both Max and El make sounds of irritation. “But we just got her!”

He laughs, unable to control his mirth. “I know, I know. She’s a wanted woman, what can I say? I’ll bring her back, alright? I promise.”

Max places your hand into Steve’s with a glare on her face. “Don’t hog her, Harrington. You got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he says, pulling you away from the dance floor. Steve conveniently waits until Max is out of earshot before he grumbles, “Monopolizing my own wife. God. Ridiculous. And did you hear that? Her tone?”

Your giggles are music to his ears. “She was just having fun, that’s all.”

Steve pauses. Slides one hand around your waist and uses the other to gently cradle your cheek. He smiles softly when you lean into his touch, the bustling crowd around you fading into nothing but background noise. “She loves you,” Steve says. “Believe me, I get it. I know exactly how she feels. And you wanna know what else I know?”

“Hm?”

“I know that you’re the most beautiful woman on Earth.”

You scoff and roll your eyes playfully, but Steve just pulls you closer. 

“What? It’s true. And I mean, like—every version of it. In every alternate dimension that exists, you're just as perfect as you are right here and now.” Steve’s voice lowers. Just a fraction, almost undetectable. “My perfect, beautiful girl.”

The flush that crawls up your cheeks is nothing short of breathtaking. He loves seeing you like this. All soft and bashful because of him. “God—Steve. There are people around, you know.”

Your words make him laugh. “Sweetheart, they just watched us get married. Like, literally—all of them. I don’t think anyone will be very surprised if they overhear me calling my wife beautiful, Mrs. Harrington.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re talking like…you know…”

“Like what? Am I–I’m talking weird?”

“No, not weird. Just…” Your face flames as you lean in close, voice lowered. “Kinda like you do when we’re alone. Like we’re about to…”

You don’t have to finish for Steve to hear your unsaid words. “Oh, I see,” he said, feigning innocence. “You mean the bedroom voice?”

With a turn of your head, you sweep your eyes across the space around you. But no one’s listening, all too caught up in their own joy. “Yeah. That.”

Steve just laughs and wraps his arms around you fully now, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. There’s a teasing tone to his voice as he says, “Aw, babe. I’m sorry. C’mere.”

He’s certain you can feel the stiffness between his legs, even through all those layers of tulle and silk. Your eyes widen just a fraction as you look up at him with your lips parted, likely to chastise him in that spirited way he loves. 

But Steve doesn’t give you the chance. He just leans down, presses his mouth to your ear, and whispers an admission. “Seeing you with the girls just…” Steve sighs all dreamily and shakes his head. “I dunno—it’s just got me thinking about the future, you know? About our kids. About how great a mom you’ll be. How pretty you’ll look with my baby in your belly.” 

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, but Steve can feel the wide grin that stretches across your face. 

“And I was also thinking about how I…I don’t wanna wait anymore,” he confesses. 

When you tilt your head back to look at him, you’re still smiling but there’s something else in your eyes now, too. Hesitation, almost. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the point? Tomorrow isn’t promised, we both know that. And I know we’re not really prepared but we could be by the time it’s…you know—time. And who’s ever really ready to become parents, anyway?”

“Steve,” you say, voice quiet.

“I just can’t stop seeing it in my head, you know? I even dream about it. They’re the only good dreams I have anymore. And I just…I don’t know. I want that. I want it with you. And I don’t want to wait for a day to come that isn’t promised.”

Your stare is heavy, really listening to his words even though he’s stumbling over them. It makes him feel seen in a way that only you have ever given him. Makes him feel understood. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready. I mean…if–if you are, too.”

He pauses. The words are out now and there’s no taking them back. And Steve tries to tell himself that he’ll be happy with any answer you give him. Whether you want to start now or a year from now or five—as long as it’s with you, he’ll be happy. 

But he can’t deny the relief that floods through his veins when you giggle and nod your head and say, “Okay. I’m ready, too.”

Steve smiles so hard the apples of his cheeks tinge pink. “Yeah?” He holds your face delicately in his hands and presses his forehead to yours. 

“Mmhm. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, don’t we? Might as well start now, right?”

Desire swirls low in his abdomen at the idea alone. Steve thinks you're right—you should start now. “C’mon,” he says, lacing his fingers through yours and tugging you through the crowd of people. 

He heads for the room at the back of the venue where you’d been tucked away to get ready for the ceremony. You pass the boys all laughing together at some solo cup-stacking competition they’re having, making a big mess and being rowdy as usual. 

Steve claps Dustin on the shoulder as he walks by and says, “You better clean that up when you’re done, Henderson,” he says. And then he points his index finger at him and says, “You hear me?”

Dustin just nods through his laughter, too wound up for a proper response as Will’s tower clatters to the floor.

The moment he pulls you down the back hallway, everything becomes much quieter. The sounds of the reception can still be heard but it’s muffled, especially once he ushers you into the small room and closes the door behind you.

There’s makeup products and hair brushes and your casual clothes from this morning strewn across every viable surface. Opened duffel bags and unzipped backpacks sit propped up against the vanity in the corner, and the sofa in the center of the room is made from crushed velvet.

Steve’s shoulders drop and he smiles wide the moment he looks at you.

“They’re going to notice we’re gone, you know,” you say, the sound of your voice much clearer now that you’re alone. “What’re we doing all the way back here?”

He smiles wide and crowds you against the door, using one hand to lift your chin. His mouth is less than an inch from yours, his eyes all starry when he looks at you. When he speaks, you can taste the heat of his breath. “I want you,” he explains. And then even clearer, voice low, “Want you to make me a daddy.”

Your lips part, and Steve reaches behind you and clicks the lock on the door into place. “Now?”

“Why not? You said it yourself. Got a lot of work ahead of us.”

“I hadn’t meant it literally,” you say lightheartedly. “People will come looking for us.”

“Let them,” he says, and means it. He only cares about you and him and this exact moment.

Steve waits for you to respond. Tries to find hesitance in your eyes or apprehension in your body language. But he comes up empty, and when you sink your teeth gently into your bottom lip, he knows you want him just as badly. 

And then you lean forward, pressing your mouth to his hungrily. You taste like mint and ambrosia and home. Steve slides his tongue into your mouth and drinks you in, his cock already painfully hard in his dress pants. 

He slides one hand to the nape of your neck and the other to the small of your back, hauling you impossibly closer.

Your hands are faster than his, tugging his dress shirt out of his slacks and working at the buttons. You whimper into his mouth and Steve sighs at the beautiful sound.

He pulls away only long enough for you to push his shirt off his shoulders, and you use the opportunity to say, “You’re going to be such a good daddy, Steve.”

And Christ, he’s fucking done for. Just like that. His cock throbs painfully, his pupils dilate, and suddenly the urge to be inside of you is absolutely unbearable. His voice trembles, but he’s smiling wide as he asks, “Oh, yeah?”

Steve drops to his knees before you and slips his greedy hands beneath your fluffy white dress, wrapping desperate fingers around each of your ankles. 

“Mhm.” You grant him some reprieve by gathering the fabric in your hands and pulling it up. 

He climbs beneath your dress and lets out a slow, shaky breath when he sees the pretty lace you’ve chosen to wear all for him. White, matching your dress and the garter around your thigh. Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to your pubic bone, an affectionate caress that’s more appreciation than lust.

“I know you will be,” you continue. “Can see it in the way you treat the kids in our lives now. Can even see it in the way you treat me. Always taking such good care of everyone around you. Always一”

You inhale sharply as he parts your thighs and runs his flattened tongue against your seam, over the lace that still covers you. Steve licks you again, relishing in the faintest hint of your taste, breathing in deep. “Keep going, baby,” he mutters.

“Always…God, Steve.” Your hips tilt, giving him more access, asking for more without asking. But it’s okay, because you’re right. Steve knows just what you need, and he’ll always take care of you. 

He hooks his fingers at the edge of your panties and carefully pulls them down your legs and over your sneakers, slipping the soft fabric right into the pocket of his dress pants.

“You’re such a hard worker,” you say. “And I know you’ll always make sure our little family will never want for anything. I think about一”

Steve spreads your knees wide and places a wet, open mouthed kiss on your clit, groaning low in his chest at the taste of you. You’re so warm and wet already. “What do you think about, pretty girl?”

You hike your dress further up so you can grasp his shoulder for support, eyes fluttering closed. “About you taking care of scraped knees and signing homework assignments and—”

He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue. It pulls a moan from deep in your chest and has your head thudding back against the door. 

Steve reaches between your thighs and gently strokes his fingers over your entrance. Once, twice—teasing in the way he always is, before finally pushing them inside. 

“Steve—”

He hums against your cunt, the vibration rocking inside you, reverberating all the way down to your curled toes. He releases your clit from his mouth only long enough to say, “Don’t stop, baby. M’takin’ mental notes. Keep talking.”

It takes a minute before you speak up again. Because once he hooks his fingers inside of you and kisses your clit all wet and sloppy, all sense of rational thought empties from your brain.

Still, you try. You try because it’s Steve and you want to make him happy. Want to make him proud. Want to be as good for him as he is for you. 

“Piggyback rides in—in the kitchen, and ice cream on the weekends and—fuck—that feels so good. You’re so good, I—”

He can feel you getting close. Can feel your velvety walls clamping down tight around his fingers, squeezing him desperately, all but begging for more. 

Steve resists. Lets you get close enough to taste the edge, and then he pulls back. Slides his slick-soaked fingers out of you and licks them clean. His breath is shallow and filled with need, but he goes back for just one more taste of you. Flattening his tongue and sliding it through your syrupy folds, savoring it. 

When he climbs out from under your dress and stands up to face you, there’s a flush on your cheeks and a big smile on your face. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen you look this happy. 

And he doesn’t need to ask why, because he feels it, too. 

In all the chaos, in all the uncertainty, you have become home to him. His lone place of solace. 

And now you’re his, undoubtedly, with his ring on your finger and his last name and a big smile, and Steve’s heart pinches tight.

It feels like something out of his wildest fantasies. Something he’s only conjured in a dream until today.

There’s only a single dream that would ever compare to this one. One he knows you want just as badly.

And Steve’s about to give it to you.

He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you softly, every movement filled with devotion. He takes your hand in his. “C’mere,” he says, leading you to the couch. 

Steve takes a seat right in the center and pulls you down onto his lap. The tulle of your dress makes the position a little awkward, fluffing up between you. You and Steve both laugh, but it’s manageable with only a little maneuvering. 

You press your hips against his and Steve groans low, feeling the heat of you even through his dress pants. He kisses you hard, drinking in the taste of you, his hand holding firm at your jaw. 

“All mine now,” he murmurs against your lips. “My sweet girl.” He reaches beneath your dress and finds the buckle of his leather belt. It clinks as he undoes it and shoves his slacks down just enough to pull his cock out, already so hard for you it throbs in his hand. “Tell me you want it,” he says.

Your answer comes quick and desperate. “I do. Please, Steve. I want it. Want you.”

He lines himself up at your entrance, but doesn’t push inside. When he speaks, it’s with that voice again. Low, intentional, dark. “Yeah? S’that right?”

“Yes一!”

“Then take it, baby.” 

You lower yourself onto his cock, rolling your hips in a way that has his breath stuttering on an exhale. A pained sound comes from someplace at the back of your throat, but Steve knows you’ll be okay. Knows it's big but knows, too, that you’ll work through it. “Oh, god.”

“I know. S’okay. Breathe, sweetheart.” Steve leans in close, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. “Yeah, there you go. Good job, baby. Doing so good for me.”

He kisses you softly this time, lips moving gently against yours. Encouraging you to take all of him. And when you do, Steve lets himself sink deep into the feel of you around him. Soft and warm and so fucking wet your arousal drips down onto the dark hair at the base of his cock. “Feels…”

“Does it feel good, baby? All full?”

You nod and a whimper leaves your mouth when he shifts beneath you, angling his hips so he’s just a little bit deeper. Touching parts of you that only he ever has, that only he ever will.

Steve reaches beneath your dress and splays his palms wide on the sides of your thighs. “Gonna look so fuckin’ pretty with a baby in your belly,” he mutters.

His words spur you on enough to roll your hips against his. Careful at first, testing the feeling. But it doesn’t take long for you to find a good rhythm. 

You feel like heaven around him. Perfect friction that has his toes curling inside his shoes. He fits so perfectly inside you he thinks he could fucking live here, just like this, with your pussy wrapped tight around his cock like it’s where it belongs. “Fuck, baby. Yeah. Just like that.”

You ride him with your hands braced against his broad shoulders, fingernails leaving crescent moon shaped indentations in his freckled skin. Your whimpers quickly turn to moans and the thought crosses Steve’s mind that someone could hear, but he doesn’t care. Not when you say, “You’re so big. Want you to fill me up ‘til一hmm一’til it sticks.”

Steve slides his hand further up your thigh, his thumb finding your swollen clit, still slick, coated in his saliva. “Kiss me, baby. Wanna taste you.”

You press your mouth to his and it’s like heaven to him. Steve can’t think or see or feel beyond his perfect, pretty wife and the way you beg so fucking prettily for him to give you his baby. To fill you up with his cum until it’s spilling out of you and sliding down your thighs.

He licks into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, unraveled by you completely. “So fucking beautiful,” he muses.

Your walls pulse around him, and Steve circles your clit with his thumb a little faster, ratcheting your pleasure higher and higher.

“Did some research a little while ago,” he says between kisses, lips red and spit-soaked. “Better chances if you cum first.” He’s breathing fast, his own release coiling tight at the base of his spine the longer he’s inside you. Steve knows he won’t last.

Not like this. Not with you in this fucking dress and with his last name. Christ.

“So you gotta cum for me, baby,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “Cum for me so I can make you a mama. Hm?”

Your hands on his shoulders tighten, and a wide grin spreads across his face as he feels you twitch around his cock, clit pulsing beneath his thumb. 

“Yeah, that’s it. There you go. S’fucking…so good for me, baby. Jesus fucking一squeezing me so tight. M'gonna be the best daddy, okay? I promise.”

He thinks he can hold off long enough for you. Thinks he can fight release until you’re all twitching and sensitive in his arms. Thinks he can do what the textbooks say to give you the best chances, thinks he can do this right.

But then you look him right in the eye and say, “Cum with me, cum with me. Please, Steve, please.”

And Christ, he’s weak for you. Putty in your hands. And you sound so pretty, begging for him like that. What on Earth is he supposed to do except exactly what you ask?

His release hits him hard, darkness clouding his vision, his skin tingling in every place he can feel your warmth. “Love you so much, baby.”

You slide your hands up the back of his neck and thread your fingers through his hair, kissing him in that way you do. The way that makes him feel like the most cherished man on the planet, leaving him aching to be impossibly closer.

His orgasm fizzles out, but Steve stays buried deep inside you until his cock softens. And even then, he lifts his hips a couple more times, thrusting up into you, making sure his seed reaches your cervix.

You take a second to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, wincing in the process.

Steve sort of feels bad…but there’s another part of him, too, that likes seeing it. Likes when you walk a little funny because of him, likes knowing you can feel him even when he’s gone. 

He helps you right your dress and tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. Steve buckles his belt and the two of you laugh as you try to help him with the buttons on his dress shirt.

The party still thrums loudly on the other side of the door. “Max is definitely going to kill you,” you say, reaching for the door.

Steve chuckles and lets you take his hand and lead him back towards the rowdy crowd in the front of the reception hall. “Oh, for sure,” he agrees. 

Just before you make it out of the shaded hallway, Steve pulls you back. Spinning you into his arms, delighting in the sweet sound of surprise you make. “Wait,” he says. “One more for the road.”

You smile and press your lips to his. Softer now, but no less heated. “I love you,” you tell him, and Steve wonders if that nervous, giddy feeling he gets hearing those words from you will ever go away.

“I love you, too, baby. Gonna love it even more when there’s two of you.”

Dustin calls his name from the other end of the room, louder even than the music, and there’s a massive pile of paper towels on the floor between him and Mike as they scramble to clean up some mystery green liquid. 

He turns his head to find Max behind the DJ booth now, playing some Madonna song and giving the actual DJ a hard time.

Steve shakes his head. “We were gone for ten minutes. Ten minutes!”

You laugh, and the sound brings him so much happiness of his own that he can’t help but smile even with his frustration. “I’ll see you on the way to the honeymoon, husband,” you say. 

The word sends a tingle down his spine. “Double the attempts mean double the luck,” Steve teases. “I’ll be seeing you later, wife.”

You both begin to back away in opposite directions. Steve towards Dustin while you move towards the soundbooth. But your fingers stay intertwined until the very last second. And only when your hands drop fully do either of you turn away.

Steve knows then, no matter what happens, that he’ll be okay.

As long as you linger with him for the rest of his life.

[find a honeymoon extra here!]