#captain steve

And right now, you’re getting a lot of fucking spice as Captain Steve fucks you from behind, your ass glowing with his palm prints as your hands grasp the sheets. His tie is looped around your throat, the soft fabric acting like a collar as he pistons into you, yanking it like leash with every thrust as he hammers that sweet spot.

He has a thing about disobedience, and you like to be a bad, bad girl.

“Keep your head up sweetheart.” He barks, his hand striking you again. The sound reverberates through the room, sending a deviant thrill through your nervous system. “That hat needs to stay on if you want to come.”

He’s talking about your pilot’s hat, the one you were wearing when he swept into the apartment, sat on the edge of the bed, unfastened the cuffs of his shirt and told you to get on your hands and knees and crawl to him.

You keep your head up, the hat balanced as his hand reaches under you, his fingers trace circles over your clit as he picks up the pace, teeth grinding as he tries to stave off his own release. He winds the tie another notch around his fist and a strangled cry erupts from deep in your chest as the rapture hits you like a wildfire, chasing through your veins like a narcotic as you clench around his dick.

He comes with a guttural curse, his release bursting into the condom as you milk his cock for every last drop. His fingers seek out the knot of the tie, tugging it free from your neck before he tosses it from the bed. There’s a fleeting red mark that’ll be gone by the morning and so will he on his flight back to Canada.

“You got another in you?” He murmurs as he pulls out. He removes the condom, tying it in a knot before he lobs it into the trashcan alongside your dressing table.

This is the other thing about Captain Steve; he can go all night if you let him. You reach into the nightstand for another condom, and he smirks as he drapes himself over you, grasping the expensive lube he brought with him a few weeks ago.

“Oh honey.” He drawls, kissing a heated trail down along the length of your spine. “I’m gonna be coming in your ass this time.”

She’d been wrong, thankfully. In the five months since she joined their crew, the chaotic and noisy ship has become her home. She knows the hiss of the kettle in the morning, the best seat at the dining table, every inch of the shuttle that is now her’s. She appreciates that Steve offered it to her, instead of one of the crew bunks. It offers her a bit of space and quiet from everyone else when she needs it. She’s new to the ship and the rest of the crew have such a tight bond that occasionally she feels a little like she’s intruding. Nancy and Jonathan are a couple, and Steve and Robin have been best friends since forever. They even all come from the same planet and her limited time aboard just doesn't feel like they can compare.

“We’re reasonably priced,” she says, because she’s already seen the fraying of his clothes, the angles of his cheekbones. “And my captain might be amenable if you can offer other payment. We had someone fix our microwave for us once so he could get to Crow.”

“I’m good at wiring and stuff,” the man says, looking hopeful. “If that helps.”

Chrissy thinks wryly to the flickering lights in the galley, the hissing of the radio and that their video occasionally flickers green. Somehow she thinks that Steve won’t mind. Robin spends so long making sure that the engine keeps running that she doesn’t have time for the smaller issues.

“It helps,” she says, and watches the dimples appear in his cheeks.

Oh. That also helps.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, offering her a hand. “I need to get to Sierra and I’m kind of broke.”

“We’re so broke that we take payment in baked bread and menial labor,” Chrissy says frankly. Their life aboard Starcourt is far from plush. They eat cheap noodles more often than not, and take illegal jobs because they pay. Some times are better than others, and all the crew do get paid, but the past few months have been tough. Too many parts that needed fixing in one go and if they get grounded, they’re done for. So the parts had to be fixed and they all just made do. “I’m Chrissy. I’m the medic here.” To her interest, he doesn’t do that usual thing people do when they find out that she’s the medic – which is flick their eyes doubtfully up and down her tiny frame. But she was trained at the best school on Obsidian, under Dr Kelly herself and she’s more than capable.

She could have had a glittering career on Obsidian. Everyone said so.

Right up until they didn’t. When the possibility of passage off the planet - and a paying job - presented itself, she’d taken it. And Steve had merely offered her a shuttle to have as her own space, and a fairly well stocked med-bay, and asked no questions about her former life. She’s so grateful for that, and she’ll patch up the crew until the time that someone asks her to leave.

“Nice to meet you, Chrissy,” he says, and his fingers linger a little on hers. “How is a medic required on a transport ship?”

“You’d be surprised,” Robin interrupts, and Chrissy looks past Eddie’s shoulder to see the small group of people standing behind their engineer.

Robin never looks like an engineer, not with her freckled face and wavy brown hair. But Chrissy learned very quickly that Robin does three things very well - talk very fast, make the best stew out of not many ingredients, and fix any spaceship you could mention.

“We have more guests,” Robin says, catching the direction of Chrissy’s eyes. If she thinks that Chrissy found an odd outsider, then Robin’s group is full of the strangest individuals she’s ever seen. There’s two guys about Chrissy’s age: one with brown hair and a smirk that she doesn’t like. The other one with long dark hair is wearing a strange green jacket and a baseball cap. Next to him is an older gentleman, with glasses and a curious expression as he stares up at the very top of Starcourt. He has curls and a friendly face, a backpack dangling from one wrist.

Behind them is another man her own age with a black leather jacket and the most piercing blue eyes that Chrissy’s ever seen. There are two girls standing with him, one with red pigtails and a furious expression and a dark-haired girl with wide, dark eyes.

“Right,” Chrissy says, thrown. “That’s a lot. How did you manage that?”

“I can talk to people,” Robin says, which is true so long as they’re not cute girls. It certainly explains how they ended up with these random guys and two kids. “People can be persuaded if they’re looking for cheap passage.”

“Can they be persuaded to not murder us in our beds?” Chrissy asks, because she has doubts about that. The blonde definitely looks like he might rob you without any issues, and even the two girls look like they might be capable of stabbing someone, given the right circumstances.

There’s a distant familiar rumble and the bright yellow buggy they use for short journeys appears, weaving its way through the crowds of people. Jonathan sits at the front, Steve and Nancy perched behind.

“Thank God,” Robin sighs, raising an arm to wave at them. “I hate doing the welcome speech.”

When the buggy pulls to a halt, Chrissy can see Steve’s eyes flick over their strange assortment of potential customers. None of them look like much but Steve is usually flexible so long as they can pay. And they obey his strict rules. Starcourt is his ship and he doesn’t make exceptions.

“Morning,” Steve says easily, climbing down from the buggy. He looks impressive, in his waistcoat and dramatic coat, hair swept back from his face by the wind. Chrissy sees both of the teen girls look a little stunned, because Steve has that effect on people. No one carries off ‘daring ship captain’ like Steve Harrington.

She doesn’t know much about their illustrious leader, only what she’s been told or can infer. He comes from money - fact. A lot of money - also fact. He has a bad relationship with his parents - hinted at by the stiff way he mentions his home world and upbringing. He’s been a playboy and used to bed a lot of people - she’s been told this by just about everyone.

What she doesn’t know is what causes the only son and heir of one of the richest families in the whole ‘verse to buy a hunk of junk like Starcourt, hire a crew, and disappear into the stars.

Given her own secrets, she’s not about to ask.

“I’m the captain and I have a few rules if you wish to use my ship to get where you need to go,” Steve says frankly to the group. “You obey the crew if they tell you something, you do not wander around the ship, you stay in the communal areas unless told otherwise and I do not accept anything illegal, explosive, or generally hallucinogenic aboard. Understood?”

There’s a general mumbling but the guy with the long hair looks a little sheepish. He raises a hand and Steve sighs.

“Nancy will check anything you may have, just in case,” he says, waving a hand and Nancy hops off the back of the buggy. Jonathan shoots off, hitting the ramp and climbing back onto Starcourt. Chrissy doesn’t miss the fact that there are new boxes on the back. They must have gotten another job while they were out.

“What is it now?” Chrissy asks quietly, once Nancy has commanded the attention of the passengers, fully intent on peering into their bags. Steve follows the line of her eyes to the vanishing buggy as it disappears into the depths of Starcourt.

“Oh,” he says flatly, running a hand through his hair. He looks stressed more and more these days, trying to keep them all afloat. Times are hard and sometimes Chrissy worries how long they can keep flying. She’s not sure what she’ll do if they get stranded on some planet and have to go their separate ways.

“Potato vodka,” Steve explains. “From Murray. We don’t get paid much to deliver it but I figure it helps.”

“Are we in trouble again?” Chrissy asks, because she thought maybe they were through the worst. With Starcourt having had a flurry of emergency fixes, they’d all hoped that they’d finally be able to stop spending every spare coin they had on keeping them going.

“Robin said we need a new…I don’t know, some doodad or we’ll break down in the middle of space,” Steve continues, a worried line appearing in his brow. No one ever doubts Robin when it comes to the workings of Starcourt. “Which I don’t really want and the only way to afford it is to take on passengers.”

“Which you hate doing,” Nancy chimes in as she passes by, intent on following her boyfriend back to the ship. Steve’s first mate, and his oldest friend, doesn’t look like much but Chrissy has learned that appearances are deceptive. She can take down men twice her size, wield just about any gun and hides more knives on her person than you’d expect of someone who’s five foot six.

“Which I hate doing because it involves babysitting a bunch of strangers aboard my ship,” Steve says in frustration. “Is that everything?”

Chrissy spins around to find that the boxes and all of their new guests have disappeared. Robin is folding up the umbrella and deckchair she uses when they’re docked, and just Chrissy and Steve remain on the dusty floor of Hess market.

“That’s it,” she sighs and slides her arm through Steve’s so they can wander up the ramp together.

“That’s a strange bunch you managed to find,” Steve comments, as Robin bounds ahead of them. They step over the threshold to find a flurry of activity, Jonathan and Nancy loading up the storage unit, their guests piling their belongings in the designated lockers. Robin skips between all of them, nearly whacking the blonde guy on the head with her umbrella. He glares at her, having only just missed the collision with his head, and goes back to putting his stuff away. She wonders if the two girls with him are his sisters, even though she’s not sure of any resemblance between the three. Unlike the others, their little group keeps to themselves, nervously eyeing the people around them.

Chrissy spots Eddie across the room, piling just about everything into another locker except for his guitar. He starts to smile at her when he sees her but it freezes on his face when he sees how she’s linked with Steve.

“Something wrong?” Steve asks, as he hits the button that will close up the ship. Chrissy watches Eddie turn away, a flicker of disappointment in her gut. No matter. They have five days until they reach Eddie’s desired port and that’s plenty of time for him to know that it’s just a misunderstanding.

“Just that there’s a lot of interesting people this time around,” Chrissy says instead. Because this does worry her - she’s not sure that they’ve ever had such a strange collection of passengers. Anything could happen with the ship this full. After all, it’s hard to have secrets when you live so close together. And Chrissy would know.

“You came home late last night,” Bucky said, his voice sounding like it was on megaphone. You covered yours ears and groaned softly. He only chuckled and shook his head.

“So. What did you do last night after I left?” He questioned, sitting in front of you at the table. His own cup of coffee steaming. You sighed softly, looking up through your lashes, eyes tired and drained.

What you do remember? Was vague. But clear at the same time. You sighed heavily and shrugged your shoulders.

“All I remember was… I drank, ended up in someone’s room, and went to mine. And I drank some more. I don’t know… anything else,” you muttered, head still a little fuzzy.

“But I lost my phone. And I don’t know if it fell out of my purse when I was with the guy… but Nat is gonna fucking kill me. I missed a session with her,” you sighed again, finishing your food and swallowing your tea. Standing up, you walked to the sink and washed your dishes.

Hearing your name being called, you cringed inwardly as you saw Nat turning the corner. You smiled innocently and placed the dishes in the drying rack.

“Where the hell were you? You could have at least texted me,” the red head said, sighing deeply as she poured herself another cup of coffee. Before you could explain the situation, Steve turned the corner and it made your stomach tie in knots. He smiled at you and handed your phone back.

“You dropped this,” he said, low enough for only you to hear. But of course, being him being a super soldier, you could see Bucky shift his head slightly and a smirk on his lips.

“Some guy, huh?” Bucky said out loud. Your face began to flush pink, and you took the phone from Steve.

“Shut up Barnes,” you said, your tone slightly threatening. Not wanting Nat to hear what was going on. Steve ducked low, smiling at you. Your turned slightly, having your back to Bucky and Nat at the table while Steve whispered.

“Last night was… amazing. Didn’t know you could do that with your mou-“ he started, but your hand covered his lips. Feeling them curl into a grin under your hand.

“Steven Grant…” you started, but he moved your hand and ducked low. Kissing your lips, shutting you up. That made Nat turn to look at you both, while Bucky watched from his seat. Your hand moved behind his neck to keep him in place as you kissed him back.

“About time,” Nat said, chuckling softly as she turned back around and drank her coffee. But Bucky’s eyes were trained on you both, and you could feel his eyes stuck on you. Steve’s eyes flicked to his old friend, then back down to you. It was as if something happened within those few minutes.

“Just some guy,” Bucky said again, standing up and walking out of the kitchen area. You sighed softly, looking up at Steve.

“He’ll be okay. It’ll be okay,” Steve said, cradling your face in his hands.

I walk in to see my 6 year old son playing with his Legos innocently. I crouch down to his level. He ignores me. That tells me something is wrong right there. He got it from his father. Ignoring me when there is something wrong he doesn't want me to know about. "Oliver." I call out. He sets his creation down and turns his body towards, but doesnt look at me. He apparently finds his hands super interesting now. "Oliver, look at me." I say, slightly sternly. His big green eyes pour into mine. A slight frown on his face. "Did you hide your sister's dolls?" I ask calmly. He looks back at the ground.

"Son, we've talked about picking on your sister and hiding her dolls." Steve's voice interferes. I nod. I could already see tears pooling into Olive's eyes.

"All my friends at school said it was fun to pick on their sister a lot." Oliver says. I look behind me to see steve with Lucy on his hip. Lucy had her face dug into his shoulder. Steve gave me his 'Captain America' look. I stood up and walked over to lucy, pulling her away from her father. She immediately stuffed her face into my shoulder. Steve walked to Oliver and kneeled down next to him.

"Show us where you hid her toys." Steve says. Oliver stand up and goes over to the crate full of puzzles. He lifted it up effortlessly and moved it aside. He got Steve's Super Strength. I saw him bend down and grabbed the three barbies from the same spot the crate was in. Oliver handed the to me. I set down Lucy and handed her the dolls.

"Go play with them in your room." I whispered to Lu. She grabbed them and nodded, rushing to her bedroom. I close the playroom door and go sit on the other side of Oliver, across from Steve on the floor. I gave Steve a look that said 'we have got to address this issue' He nodded, getting the message. "Sweetie, what did your friends say?" I ask quietly. Oliver continued to look at the floor.

"They said that they steal their sisters toy and hide them. They say its a game they play." He explains. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked up at Steve over Olive's back. He shook his head as to say 'I don't know'

"And do their sisters know about the game?"

"No."

"Why would you do that?" I ask. He hesitated answering.

"Because I just wanted them to like me." I'm so very glad he got Steve's honestly and not my silver tongue. I rubbed Olive's back.

"Oh honey, you don't need to do the same things they do to get people to like you. If you know its wrong then do it." I explain.