#dark!john walker

As you mash your hands together, you hear John on the stairs. You turn to him as he wipes the sweat away from his forehead. He cracks his neck as he turns his sights on you.

"What'd I say?" He drawls as he steps up on the landing.

"I know--" you stop and wet your lips. You tug at the knot of the robe belt. You let it fall open and look down, staring at the railing that overlooks the entryway. "I listened. Just... Keeping an eye on our son."

He marches up to you and sighs. You wince as he scoops your tits up in his hands. He presses his thumbs into the buds of your nipples and purrs. He clucks.

"Why can't you look at me?" He slithers.

You flinch and push your shoulders up. The robe slips further and you catch it on your elbows. Your eyes sting and you make yourself look at him.

"I'm sorry, I..." Your hands flutter instinctively over your stretch marks. "I know I... don't look like other women--"

"You look like a mother. I'm not looking for other women." He snarls. "I'm looking at you." He kneads your tits and steps closer. "I'm looking and I like what I see."

You nod. Despite everything, the fear, the helplessness, it's nice to feel wanted. He would never call you beautiful but you think it's close enough. Or as much as you'll get.

"You don't believe me? Go on. Touch me."

"I-- I do. I'm not--"

"Put your fucking hand on my dick." He snaps.

You bat your lashes and obey. You press your hand to the front of his pants. He's hard. He groans as you touch him.

"Been like that for a damn while. Just at the thought..." His voice trails off and he lets go of your chest. He peers down his body as he watches your hand on his. "Take that off. Go. Get on your back."

He points sharply past you. You back up and slip the robe off completely. You turn and carry it into the open bedroom. The monitor is set up on the window ledge. The bed is the only thing ready. Of course.

You put the rob aside and approach the bed. You focus on his simple command. On your back.

"Up. Higher." He directs you.

You push yourself to the middle of the bed. He stands at the foot and strips off his tee shirt. He hums and clucks.

"Bend your legs. Open. I wanna see your pussy." He demands.

You hesitate. You lift your head and look at him again.

"John, it's..."

"I've seen one before, so do it." He snips.

You drop your head and close your eyes. You keep your legs together as you bend them. You take a deep breath. Slowly, you push your knees apart, dragging your feet across the blanket.

The cool air tickles up your cunt. He's been inside you but not from this angle. Not from where he can see... Everything.

He hums. "Play with yourself."

You gulp. You're ready for him but not for that. Your hand twitches and you shudder.

You reach down and feel around your pelvis. You fidget as your fingers delve between your lips. You dip down and drag them back up. You haven't tried that since before Tristan. You put on some cream to help heal but nothing like this.

"Keep going." He looms at the end of the bed. His presence drapes over you as you keep your eyes sealed shut.

You flick your fingers, then swirl them. It's like you're fingering it all out for the first time again. Your thighs quiver as you hit a special spot. You squeak.

"That's it, baby. You get ready for your man." He taunts.

You hear his jeans fall to the floor. Your breath catches and your fingers glide easier. It's working. A little.

The bed shifts with his weight. He growls as he gets closer. You tense.

He trails his fingertips up your calves and grips your knees. He moves closer, planting himself between your bent knees.

"Look at me." He repeats.

You do.

"My turn. Touch me." He orders.

You snatch your hand away from your cunt. You push yourself up on your elbow then reach down again. You curl your shoulders as you grab him. He grunts as you wrap your hand around his tip.

"Shit." He hisses. "Fuck. I like your hands. I like..." His eyes rove all of you. "You're pussy. Your tits." He hooks his arms under your knees and drags your closer. "I like all of you."

He slings your legs over his thighs. You pump your hand up and down his length. He touches your stomach, gripping the softness along your sides, and squeezes, working his thumbs into your flesh.

"Like this too." He rasps.

You stroke him base to tip. He groans.

"Put me in."

You swallow dryly as he bends over you. You angle him down as he moves and you guide him down your folds. His tip slides down to your entrance.

He snarls and snaps his hips before you can ease him in. You cry out and clasp onto his shoulder.

"Shhh, our son's sleeping." He thrusts and you stifle another squeal.

You fall flat beneath him. Your hand snakes down to grip his bicep as your other clutches just above his hip. He curls his arm around your head and ruts into you. The bed shakes as squeeze his arm and grind your teeth.

He hangs his head next to yours as he pounds you into the mattress. You whimper as his rhythm picks up and his pelvis snaps down harder and harder. You wrap your thighs around him, hoping to slow him.

He leans on his elbow and tilts his torso. He reaches down to your clit and flicks around. You buck beneath him and gasp. He does it again.

"That's it." He presses firmly and swirls, thrusting against his hand as he toys with you. "Cum for your captain."

You moan and trail your hand up his side. You brace his chest and push your head into the bed. Your toes curl as he plucks at your nerves.

"Ah, ah," you babble.

"You tell your captain when you cum." He growls.

"Yes... Captain."

"Good girl. You say when. Say it clear." He rams into your as you arch your back.

You nod as your tongue lolls out. You pant as you turn your head back and forth. You lifts your chest and dig your nails into his skin.

He bows down, curving his spine to nip at your tits. You hug his head and hook your legs above his ass.

"Cap-captain," you heave. "I-I-I-- I'm cum-minnngggggg."

He snaps his teeth around your nipple and his tongue teases the tip. He purrs and sucks until you feel a trickle. You drone out your orgasm until he smothers it with his hand blindly.

Your first patient with the treatment would be John, as he seemed to be the most volatile. But seeing as all of the patients were, you wanted to have the first person need it the most. John was certainly the one who needed it the most.

“How are you feeling today, John?” You asked, wearing the requested outfit. A white button up with three quarter sleeves, the buttons undone to show just the top curve of your breasts, the thigh high, tight pencil skirt that covered the black nylon stockings, and lastly, the black heels.

“Irritated,” John said with a sigh. “I feel pent up, ready to snap at anyone.”

“Do you want to talk about why you’re feeling that way?” You asked, looking at him.

“Not really,” he said. “Can the session just be over? I mean, I’d rather be in my room alone jerking off to some porn than share my feelings.”

“You know the rules, John. At least an hour session on your scheduled days, just like everyone else,” you said, scribbling a few things down on your notepad.

Agitated

Talks about porn

Hasn’t had sex in a long time

Possible candidate for prostate stimulation

“So we can do this the easy way and talk or we can do this the hard way and sit in silence while you continue to get annoyed that we’re quiet.” You glance up to see him glaring at you hard. “Talk to me John, what are we going to do with our time here?”

“I could give you a few options,” he snorted, shaking his head as his leg bounced.

“And what are they?” You asked, holding your pen ready to write.

“You could put those pretty red lips around my cock and suck me for an hour,” he smirked.

“We talked about this, John. If you keep saying inappropriate things-”

“Stop wearing those short skirts that let me see those red panties you got on then,” John cut you off as he leaned forward in his seat. “You’re just begging for it with the clothes you wear. I can see your fucking nipples right now, they’re so hard and just waiting to be smacked.”

“That’s enough John,” you snapped. “I think you should go back to your room for the day.”

“No, no, no,” he said, standing up to tower over you with a sneer on his face. “I’m not leaving now. You told me we had to have at least an hour on our scheduled days, so we’re gonna keep our hour.”

“John, back up now. Don’t make me tase you,” you said, trying to hold your ground as you went for the taser in question. It was always kept next to you in a holder for if any of the patients became erratic and dangerous.

“That’s funny,” he chuckled, his reflexes faster than yours. You reached for the weapon, but John was faster. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you up from your seat, ignoring your struggle against him. “This is my session and I want to spend it fucking that pussy of yours.”

“John, you can stop this right now,” you huffed, trying to push away from him. “If you stop, I won’t say anything and you won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh, I’m going to get in trouble and it’ll be worth it,” John said, licking his lips. Manhandling you, he dragged you to your desk. You tried to fight him as he shoved you against it hard, letting you go long enough to rip your shirt open as you gasped. Just as John had said, you had no bra on and your nipples were hard and pointed. “Look at those. I bet you haven’t had someone make them hard like that in a while.”

“John stop it or I’ll scream!” You cried, earning a slap from him. It wasn’t hard, but jarring.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he growled, reaching up to grip your throat and squeeze dangerously hard. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and let me wreck that pussy of yours or are we going to do this the hard way and I get to fuck each hole as I please?” You grabbed at his wrist, trying to get some relief as you choked out a ‘yes’ before he let you go. “Good girl, now get on your knees. I wanna see those lips get smeared in red.”

Nodding, you sunk to your knees as you looked up at him. His jeans were tenting already and you had to wonder how long he’d been hard. Your fingers quickly went to work, opening his pants to find he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Instead, his cock was threatening to spring out and slap you in the face. There was no way you could take all of that thing in any of your holes. It just wasn’t possible, but it didn’t stop you from salivating or feel that deep ache between your legs.

“Go on, don’t get shy on me now,” John said, swatting your face to get you out of your trance. With a whimper, you finish pulling him out and you’re positive he’s too big. Each ridge and vein is pronounced to an almost laughable effect, but it was real and it was twitching in your hand. Swallowing hard, you opened your mouth to take him in. “That’s it, take it all in,” he groaned as you made muffled noises while trying to get further than a few inches. John’s hands went right into your hair, forcing the bun it was in to loosen as he gripped it. “Keep going, don’t stop.”

You couldn’t even if you wanted to, his hands had you pinned in place to keep you from pulling back. As slow as you wanted to go, John was tired of waiting. When you were trying to breath, he pushed you down further as your hands gripped his jeans. All you could do was keep your mouth open as he began to rock his hips. You gagged and choked on him, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to breath despite the quickening pace of his hips.

John pulled out suddenly, letting you cough and gasp before giving you another slap. There were only a few seconds before he was back to skull fucking you. Tears ran down your face as you drooled down your chin and neck. You’d never had this intense interaction before, but it didn’t mean your body didn’t like it. Your pussy was hot and starting to throb as you kept taking John.

When he managed to get himself down your throat despite your protests, he held you down as you choked on him. At first you thought it would be just a moment, but then time kept going and he didn’t let you off till you were fighting him.

“Oh such a messy bitch,” he moaned, looking down as you fell back a bit. You looked up to such a terrifying, but still arousing image of him shirtless with his cock hanging out. When did John take his shirt off? There was no time for questions as he pulled you up to your feet. “Turn around,” John ordered, not giving you a chance to even do it before he was forcing you to turn. He bent you over the desk and pinned you there by the neck with one hand while the other jerked your shirt down from your shoulders. Twisting it and wrapping it around your wrists, John had your hands bound, making you even more helpless to him.

You shook under him as his hands ran down your back, letting you feel the rough calluses on each finger. John grunted as he groped your ass through your skirt. Not satisfied, he pulled it up to expose your stockings and panties that were embarrassingly wet.

“Would you look at that?” He said with a hum. “Someone likes this more than she says.” You choked out a whine as he pressed into the soaked fabric, teasing you with what might be. He kept pushing, getting just past your lips before pulling back. “Lick those fingers, taste how fucking horny you are for me,” John ordered, shoving his fingers into you mouth. Following orders, your tongue flicked and swirled around his finger tips, making it harder to focus. The sound of metal sliding near your head made you look to your right to see him pulling out a pair of scissors from your pen cup.

Those were not allowed out with the patients, but for this instance you were thankful they were. John pulled his fingers free to start cutting your stocking off to get to your panties. The sound of the material ripping made you gasp softly as the cold blades of the scissors ran over your ass and near your pussy when he cut off your panties next.

“That’s more like it,” he groaned. Your whole bottom was open to him, making your cheeks heat up. “So fucking wet and all for me. You even shaved, how sweet.” With nothing to stop his fingers this time, he slid one in easily before he quickly added a second.

“Fuck, John,” you whimpered as he curled them as he searched for that spot. When John hit it, you couldn’t help but push back as a strangled moan came from you.

“I knew you wanted it,” he chuckled. “Such a fucking slut for criminals, aren’t you? You act like you wanna fix us, but all you really want is for us to fuck this dirty pussy.” You keened as he kept stroking that spot, making you damn near wild with need. “Say it,” he growled, slapping your face again. “Say your dirty pussy wants my cock.”

“My dirty pussy wants your cock,” you whined as his fingers pulled out.

“Good girl,” he said, leaning over you. “But you’re entirely too loud right now and I don’t want our fun to end, do you?” He asked, grabbing your face to force you to look at him.

“No,” you whimpered, shaking your head.

“I know, you want this cock to split you in two,” John said as he began opening your desk drawers in search of something. You know what was in there, but acted surprised when he found it.

Along with a roll of tape, John pulled out a thick, pink dildo and lube. It wasn’t as big as he was, but it was above average.

“You’re a kinky bitch,” he laughed as he set the toy down next to your face. Your face was hot and you wanted to hide your shame, but John wasn’t having it. “You fuck yourself with that between patients? Huh?”

“Yes,” you answered, squirming under him.

“Where do you put it? Your mouth? Your pussy? Oh fuck, please tell me you put it in that ass of yours,” he groaned. You stayed quiet, trying not to push back on him as his cock began to slide over your folds. “Come on, tell me where you put it, dirty whore.” he groaned.

“My ass,” you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “That’s where it’s gonna go then.”

“No, John, please,” you begged as he grabbed the toy and lube. “I won’t be able to take you and that!”

“I’d shut up if I were you,” John growled, slapping your face again. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. I’m calling the shots now.”

“John-” You whined before he cut you off by grabbing your face.

“I said shut up,” he snarled. “You just can’t learn, can you?” Forcing your mouth open by squeezing on your jaw, he spit into your mouth before smacking you again. John grabbed the cut panties to shove them into your mouth roughly. “At least I got to fuck that hole first,” he chuckled as he ripped off a piece of tape from the roll to press it over your lips to keep you gagged. “There, that’s better.”

You cried out behind the gag, squirming more as he easily moved you how he wanted. He took your shirt off completely, allowing a few moments of fight as he moved your wrists to tape them to your ankles. On your back on your desk, you were spread open for him to do as he pleased despite your muffled protests.

“Now, let’s fill that ass up, huh?” John said with a smirk. He grabbed the lube as you squirmed, trying to close your legs, but that was an impossible feat as he stayed between them. Slick fingers began to poke and prod at the tight ring of muscles, making you shiver as he pushed one finger in. “Shit. If I didn’t want that pussy so bad, I’d be fucking your ass.”

You couldn’t help the flutter of muscles as he began to slowly finger fuck your ass. Your clit was throbbing almost painfully as he took his time in stretching you open. One finger felt huge, but he was already putting in a second, scissoring them. When you thought that it was already too much, you saw John kneel as he kept fingering you to give your wet pussy a long, slow lick. It only made it harder to stay still, screaming behind the gag as you shook. It didn’t really matter that you were gagged as you’d be unable to form words coherently.

Sobbing, you could only watch as John pushed his tongue into your folds as a third finger was added to your ass. The dirty, wet noises shouldn’t have made you want more, but all you could do was picture yourself riding John’s face. The man was skilled with his tongue, you would give him that. Something that could be worked with later as well.

You felt yourself on the edge, crying out and sobbing as your legs quivered. Then suddenly John pulled back completely and left you hanging. Screaming behind the gag, you left in an almost painful lurch as he looked down at you and chuckled.

“Such a needy slut. I knew you wanted it the first day we met,” he said, licking his lips. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna fuck you good and hard.” Grabbing the dildo, he slicked it up with the lube before pressing the tip to your tight hole. “Now let ol’ Cap fill that ass of yours.”

A long, low groan forced itself out of you as John pushed the toy into you. It wasn’t too big, but it was long. Most of the time you could take the whole thing in your pussy and hit your cervix just right to make you cum from just riding it. He kept pushing it in till it was flush, making you feel so fucking full already.

Choking out whines, you could only watch as John ripped pieces of tape from the roll to tape the toy down. Smoothing the material down, John gave your ass a playful spank that made you jump. “That’s not going anywhere,” he hummed, watching your face as it had gone from completely aware to almost a drunk state. “Look at you. You were complaining and fighting me earlier, but now you’re just a little fuck toy and happy about it, aren’t you?”

You nodded, whining as his fingers toyed with your wet pussy. It was maddening and he knew exactly what he was doing. John was fucking dangerous with those fingers and you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted with them.

“Now, let’s get to the main event,” he said, grabbing his cock to run the tip up and down your slit. Shaking, you keened when he pressed the head to your clit. That was the only warning you received before he pushed into you hard and fast. It was a painful stretch and you were sure that you were going to bleed, but he was buried to the hilt so soon. “Look at my stuffed toy. Every hole filled up and you’re still needy. I know I said this is what would happen if you didn’t behave, but I was lying. This was always going to happen.”

His hips drew back to snap forward again, plunging into you as your body’s nerves were on fire. Everything felt that much more intense and as the pain subsided, that much more pleasurable. Soon, John was leaning over you, grunting into your neck as he fucked you. Each thrust pushed the toy into your ass, making it feel like there were two people fucking you at once. His lips and teeth were on your neck, kissing and nipping as his stubble rubbed your skin.

It felt like it was almost too much, that he’d taken over you and there was no going back. This was who you would be, John’s little fuck toy. You could only imagine how long it would go on, he was a super soldier after all. How long would he have you trapped and use you? Sooner or later someone had to come check on you. That someone would have to be Bucky because he was the only one with access to your office when he wanted to.

“Gonna fill you up,” John grunted into your ear. “Make you leak my cum for days.”

The idea of him being inside you for days was enough to have you on edge again, a mewling mess under him as his cock fucked your sensitive pussy. It was driving you wild, but you just had to take it.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he hissed. Wait, he was going to let you cum, right? After everything to not let you would be horrible. “Clench that pussy around me. Wanna feel you milk it.”

It was the only thing you could do, holding your breath without realizing it as you clenched as tight as you could.

“That’s it, grip that cock,” John said before placing a hand over your nose, pinching it shut. “You’re not breathing till I cum.”

Grunting, you felt your orgasm start as you tried to wrench your face free, but his grip was too strong. Strangled noises of choked moans were muffled by his hand as you clenched John hard, cumming without prompt. Your body jerked and balked under John’s as you tried to breathe. A few more thrusts and John was cumming deep inside you. His hand moved away, letting you suck in precious air as he snarled and ground against you.

“Shit,” he said, panting. “Good girl. Such a fucking good girl.” Soft twittering noises were all you could do as you laid back, spent and sensitive as he pulled out. You couldn’t stop the whimper at the loss of his cock, already feeling him leak down your folds. “I should take a picture of that. Keep it for later,” he laughed as he pushed his cum back into you with his fingers. “Should block that up.”

Grabbing the tape again, John ripped off a few pieces to place over you to keep your folds shut. Thank god you had shaved or you would have been PISSED.

“There we go. Now whoever else wants a turn just has to open you up again. I bet the other guys would love to have a turn and make you gush cum,” he said. Tucking himself away, John adjusted his clothes as you laid on the desk waiting patiently for him to untie you. When he didn’t, actually moving towards the door, you cried out and tried to get his attention. “Oh, you really thought I wasn’t going to leave you like this?” He said with a smirk.

That wasn’t the deal! John needed to let his aggressive side out, so you both laid down rules as to what could and couldn’t happen. Part of that was to make sure you weren’t left like that for someone else.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get Bucky right now. I bet he’d love to see this,” John said, laughing as he left the office.

You sit up and rub your eyes. The nape of your neck prickles as the noise comes from the kitchen, not right beside you. A cupboard slams and another swings open, hitting the one beside it.

You’re fully awake now. Your lip trembles as your mind races. What do you do? Your phone…

You close your eyes and shiver. It’s not under your pillow. Not on the night side table. The last time you remember having it, you were in the front room. You won’t be able to get to it.

You look at the window. Even if you can get down safely, you don’t know that you can open it without giving yourself away. You grab the glass bottle from your nightside table and stand up. It’s heavy enough, you could throw it and get to the broom. Even if you can just scare the intruder away.

Your chest is full and heavy as you wade through the dim. Your back is sore. Your flesh is over sensitive and worn. Your ears ring, even in the silence.

Another cupboard snaps shut. You look around the door frame. The figure in your kitchen tears something apart. The crinkling wrappers put you on edge.

You lift your arm and angle it. You glance at the door. You could run. No, you can’t.

“I’m not going to hurt you so whatever’s got your heart going,” the man turns and faces you, his eyes zeroing in on the door. “Don’t.” He shakes the small box of band-aids. “You got any gauze?”

You lower the bottle and reach over to set it on the dresser behind the wall. You step out as your eyes cling to the red and white stripes across his chest. His cowl pushes his ears out as the strap dangles loosely.

“You’re… Captain America.” You croak hoarsely.

He scoffs. “Not anymore.”

He tosses the box into the sink. You keep your distance, hovering close to the bedroom door. You cross your arms over your chest and shift your weight on your feet.

He pulls out the single chair at the dining table and drops into it heavily. He rips off his cowl. He looks different. He has a beard and his blond hair is nearly to his chin. It’s sweaty and wild.

“I… I’m sorry. I can get you a towel.” You offer.

“Fuck it,” he leans back as he touches the stomach of his uniform. You can’t see it past the table. “I’ll be fine.”

You stand awkwardly, too afraid to ask the obvious; what is he doing there?

“I’m fucking starving.” He growls.

You swallow and chew your lip. There’s a trickle of blood from his hairline. You resist the urge to peek over your shoulder.

You cross to the sink and pull out a drawer. It’s another unfortunate happenstance. You take out a dish towel and lay it in front of him. His blue eyes meet your grimly. His expression is irritable at best.

You turn and try to hide your discomfort.

“I could… make you some grilled cheese,” you offer. You can go without toast for breakfast. Half the time, you’re too distracted to eat it warm. “Or… I have some canned soups.”

You go to the fridge and open it, blocking it with your body. There’s isn’t much inside. Not enough for two.

“Fuck it.” He groans. 

You turn as a buckle clinks and he drops his tactical belt on the table. He stands and undoes the diagonally set buttons on his jacket. He strips it off and slings it haphazardly over the back of the chair.

“I just need some sleep. I’ll find something when I wake up.”

He heads for the bedroom. You move without thinking. You move so fast, your chest swings and tugs painfully. You hiss as you barely get in front of him.

“You can’t–”

He stops and grips the door frame. He looms over you as you block him meekly. You gulp down your protest.

“I can’t? Someone else here?” He leans down menacingly.

You bat your lashes. You stare up at him. You just want to be left alone.

Before you can explain, a babble rises through the dim. You hear your son fussing in the bassinet. You back up and turn to hurry over to Tristan before he can panic. You know that little mewl. He’s hungry.

You bend over the bassinet, set right against your bed, and you carefully scoop him out. You bring him up as you put your back to the man in the doorway. You unbutton the front of your night gown and pull your swollen breast through.

You nearly sigh as the baby latches. You’re starting to hurt and you don’t have a pump. The man coughs.

“You could’ve said.”

“He was sleeping.” You turn and sit on the edge of the bed as Tristan suckles. “I didn’t…”

He sniffs. “Where’s dad?”

You wince and focus on your baby. “Just me.”

He’s quiet. You adjust Tristan as he drinks. Sometimes you could just fall asleep with him like this. Most of the time, you’re fighting the urge to just pass out.

The man nears and you look up. You’re slightly dazed as the adrenaline recedes. He’s staring at the baby. Or maybe not.

You reach to grab the thin nursing blanket hanging over the side of the bassinet and drape it over Tristan and your chest. Sometimes you forget you’re a person. It just feels like you’re there to rock and feed and change diapers.

“The bed’s not very big. I’ll take him into the living room.” You stand as the intruder blocks you with his body. You think you remember his name. “John?”

You look up at him and his cheek ticks. His eyes cling to you. You can’t make out his thoughts but you’re unsettled by his gaze.

“Wouldn’t bother me if you stayed.” He grits.

You shake your head. “He’s hungry. He’ll be up a while.” You sway nervously. He doesn’t move. “Can I…” You nod past him.

He inhales deeply and tilts his head. Slowly he turns to stand against the bed. You sidle around him.

You go to the door and stop. You turn back. He’s watching you. You’re all too aware of your exposed thighs and all their dimples.

“You can turn the night light off if you need…” your voice trails off and you turn away. “Um…” You hug Tristan, “come on, baby boy.”

"Tris," you cool and put down the spatula to pull up the bottom of your tea shirt. It bunches against his head as you get him latched. "That's it, sweetie."

"Hm, sweetie, I like that." John startles you as he struts in. He wears only his boxers. You don't correct him that you were'nt speaking to him.

"Bacon and eggs." You announce. "Coffee, too?"

He sits at the table and smirks. "Sounds perfect, honey..." His eyes skim down to Tristan as he slurps loudly and you grunt at the tug in your chest. "Maybe some of what he's having." He winks.

You hide your discomfort. You're still not used to him or this place. Even with it all unpacked, it's still not welcoming.

"Why don't you wear that dress I got you?" He asks. "It'd look hot."

You focus on your son. "I don't want to get food all over it. It's too nice to wear just at home."

"Huh." He scoffs. "Are you asking for something?"

"What? No. I just... Wouldn't want to ruin it." You wipe a dribble down Tristan's cheek.

"Fucking look at me and ask then." He snaps.

You wince and lift your head. "Ask? Sir."

"Captain ..." He grits.

"Captain," you quaver and Tristan starts to fuss. "I don't..."

"You want me to take you out? For dinner? Some kinda date?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded. You never even thought of it. Tristan unlatches and you move him onto your shoulder to burp him.

"You don't have to--"

"Just ask, goddamn it." He slaps the table.

You gasp and gulp. Your lashes flutter in fear. "Okay. C-Captain, please, will you, uh, take me out?" Your lip trembles. "Please?"

His lips slant. "Are you gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you answer as you repress the wave of shame and disgust. You're as repulsed by yourself as him.

"Well, not like I haven't given you everything else. I guess dinner isn't too much." He sneers.

"Thank you, Captain." You say it because it's what he wants to hear, not what you feel.

You think you've fully accepted now that it's not about you. Whatever he wants, whatever Tristan needs, that's what you're good for now. If you were ever good for anything.

🍼

"This is Fran." John says as an older woman waves from beside him. "She's gonna watch Tristan."

"Fran?" You say.

"Babysitter. Highly recommended. Not cheap, either, so let's go, honey." He says.

"Um, yes, sure." You look into the basinette and touch your son's cheek. You draw away reluctantly. "I... I pumped. The bottles are labelled in the fridge. He should sleep a while. And the diapers are just under the cabinet." You explain.

"She's done this before. Shell'l figure it out." John clucks.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just... I've never really... Left him." You look back but not for long before John grabs your arm.

"New moms. You know how they get." He chortles curtly. "Now, honey, you need some time for yourself. You been doing too much."

"Aw, dear, it'll be okay," Fran coaxes. "I've taken care of collicy twins and feverish toddlers. This one seems rather peaceful."

"But... He'll wake up without me." You chew your lip.

"Honey," John drones and slides his hand down to yours, gripping right. "Come on. You need this."

You get it. His strength says more than his words. Even Fran won't stop him.

"That's a good one,“ the elder babysitter chirps. "Let him take ya out."

You relent and let John drag you out. You stop at the door to get your shoes on. You're still in jeans and a tee.

"Where..." You begin.

"Well, babe, if we're going to have a date, you need something sexy to show off when we get home..." He pulls you forward and let's go, only to wrap his arm around your waist. "Something spicy I can't take off with my teeth. Or grab onto when I'm..." He stops himself and snarls.

You nod. You can't speak. It's almost flattering, if entirely degrading.

He ushers you out the door. You glance back one last time. You feel empty, alone, without your son near. Your fingers twitch and your stomach swims. Sometimes all you wanted was a break but not really. Not like this.

You get in the car and watch out the window. You feel like you haven't been anywhere in ages. Like you've been locked up in a cage. Haven't you?

He pulls into a boutique. You stare dumbly as your cheeks burn hotly. You remember wearing a lacy pink bra like that one on the mannequin under your uniform, giddily showing Pete in the back office... Ugh, just a stupid girl.

John gets out and goes around to open your door. He as good as hauls you out as your body and mind lock up. He herds you towards the lingerie store as you prey to disappear into nothing.

Inside, it smells like vanilla body spray and the top 20 plays over the speakers. Blues, lilacs, and black decorate the space, laces, satins, and sheer mesh hanging from racks. John puts his hand on the small of your back and urges you further in.

"Hello, you doing okay today?" The associate greets from behind the counter as they put clearance sticks on body glitter.

"All good. Just looking for a thong or two," John throws back dryly.

His hand brushes over and he curls his fingers around your love handle, further emphasizing the extra cushion that makes you chafe among the slender mannequins and posters of beautiful women. You sigh softly as you search for anything to cover both cheeks or that can contain your swollen chest. John leans against you as he reaches for a one piece which isn't much more than a cross cross of strings.

"You'd look hot in this." He growls. "I could get all tangled up."

You shift. "John. I... How about that?" You point to a teddy that might just hide your stomach.

"Why? I seen all of you. You shouldn't be tryna cover up." He lets go of the stringy piece.

"I'm not trying too... I'll... I'll wear whatever you like." You say.

"Uh huh. Damn right you will." He drags his hand across your ass as he pulls away. He picks up a leather dress with no chest. "And what do you say?"

"Thank you, Captain." You murmur

"No, no," he holds up the dress and measures it against you. "What you called me earlier. Sweetie."

“It doesn’t matter.” You insist and touch the side of your neck as you face him. “It’s us. Me and him. That’s all.”

“No. not anymore,” he drawls. You stare at him, uncertain. He clucks and puts a hand on his hip. “You know, I’m helping you. A lot. So, don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not…” you shake your head and shrug. You cross an arm over your chest. You’re still in your loose button up pajama top and bottoms. “It’s… unexpected, I guess. Why–”

“You’re going to ask me why? Kinda ungrateful if you ask me.” He sneers. “I’m a hero. That’s what I do. Help.”

You nod and wet your lip with your tongue nervously. “Yes, I… know. I saw you on TV.”

“So why all the questions?” He retorts.

“I’m sorry–”

“Not many men who would clean up another’s leftovers.” He says.

You wince. “I know.”

He sighs. “Look. I have– had a family. I lost them. I’m… I’m trying to help you keep yours.”

You pinch a fold in your sleeve. He moves closer. You fight not to shy away. He rubs your shoulder.

“I know better than anyone, if you want to take care of that baby boy, you gotta take care of yourself.” He squeezes and kneads as he looms over you. “I got you cottage cheese and some fruit. You should eat that. It’s good for your milk supply.”

You look down subconsciously. He chuckles and drops his hand to tug on your shirt. There’s a wet spot by your left nipple. You try to hide it.

“Doesn’t seem like you need much help.” He purrs and drags his touch up the fabric. He grazes your nipple and you whimper. You stand frozen. What do you do?

He opens his hand and palms your tit. He steps even closer and squeezes. You whine as you feel yourself leak through the shirt. He pushes your arm down completely and grabs your other breast.

“You need to pump. Must hurt.”

You shudder and stare at his shirt. It’s humiliating. Why is he doing this?

“I could help you out. Just a little.” He brushes his hands across your chest and pinches the buttons. You grab his wrists. He goes rigid and growls.

“Not in here. Don’t want to wake the baby,” you whisper.

His eyes meet yours. He licks his lips. He clutches the front of your shirt and pulls you with him. He walks backward and turns you into the kitchen. He marches you to the table. 

You gasp as he lets go of your shirt and frames your hips. He lifts you as if you weigh nothing. You slap your palms down to steady yourself.

He tugs at the buttons again. This time you don’t stop him. You turn your head away as he uncovers your chest. You shiver as your nipples harden.

“You’re all swollen. You need to get some of that out,” he covers your tits with his large hands and massages. You groan and grip the edge of the table. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

You stare at the wall. He clears his throat and tickles down your side. He exhales heavily and turns. He drags the chair around and sits in front of you, pulling it under him as he does.

“I’m just helping,” He fondles your left tit and his breath grazes your skin.

You close your eyes. His nose brushes along your skin and circles your nipple. He flicks his tongue out and swirls it around the ridged bud. You quiver and whine again.

He closes his lips around your nipple. You swallow down a gasp. He sucks and you feel yourself… pouring into him. He kneads your breast as his tongue teases your bud and he gulps loudly. Your stomach churns grossly.

He hums as he pops his lips off. You moan as it pangs. You cover your nipple with your hand and look at him. He leans back in the chair.

“I read somewhere, vanilla will make it sweeter. I got you vanilla yogurt too.” He winks.

You try to pull your shirt closed. He tuts. You stop.

“Just take it off. You got milk all over.” He demands.

Your lip quivers but you obey. You strip off your shirt and sit before him. You cover yourself without thinking. The stretch marks aren’t pretty.

“Stop that.” He plants his feet and pushes the chair back. It scrapes loudly on the floor. “Get down. Right here.”

He pushes his legs apart and points between his knees. You shakily slide off the table. You teeter but keep your balance.

He unbuttons his fly and pulls down his zipper. You lower yourself to your knees and look at the floor. He takes his dick out and strokes it.

“Grab your tits and push em together,” he commands.

You hesitate. The tension boils around you. You bring your hands up and whimper as you push your tits together. He moves to the edge of the chair and angles himself down. He pushes his tip between your cleavage.

He growls and snaps his hips, hitting you in the chin. You flinch but stay frozen as you are. You’re still stuck in your disbelief. Everything just keeps happening.

“These tits are gorgeous,” he puffs as he thrusts between them, covering your hands with his as he squeezes your tits snugger around him. “Fuck, you got enough to feed the starving.”

Your eyes sting and you close them. His breath storms over you as his pace quickens. His fingers curl and dip between yours, poking into your tender flesh.

“Whoever left you alone, he didn’t know what he had, did he?” He snarls. “You’re going to milk me dry, huh?”

You quake as he grunts and the chair shifts under him. A sudden warmth spurts and spreads over your cleavage and next, a few strands string up your chin and cheek. You seal your lip and lower your face.

“Goddamn.” He huffs. “It’s been a while, baby.”

He bounces your tits then lets you go. You move your hands to cover yourself and sit back on your heels. You feel along the slimy mess across your flesh.

“How old’s the kid?” He breathes.

“Three months,” you eke out.

“Ah… so it’s been long enough.”

You look up at him in horror. You know exactly what he means. Your insides knot.

“I’ll be ready in a few seconds.” He says. “Come on–” 

A knock interrupts him. You per over at the door. He mutters.

“Dear, it’s Darcy. Everything okay? I thought you were coming at noon.” Your downstairs neighbour calls through.

You cringe. John stands up.

You have to gather up the dirty burp clothes and nursing blankets. Those will need to go in the laundry. You need to count out some change for the machine.

You stare at that man's jacket as you stand in the kitchen. You should move it but there's really no other place for it. You're phone is chiming. You run to it to keep from waking the baby.

"Darcy?" You hiss into the speaker. "Hi."

This is the call you've been waiting for. She's your downstairs neighbour. She has a few kids herself and she babysits others in the building. She gave you some sleepers for Tristan.

"I can get your boy in," she says. But not a full day. Half." She says.

"Oh, uh... So can make that work." You appease her. Your mat leave is all out and you're living on reserves you don't really have. "Thank you."

"There's a deposit for the first month."

"A deposit?" You say. "How much?"

"Five hundred. I gotta be sure. You're not the only mom on the block," she counters.

You hum. "I can find it."

"Good. Monday, right?"

"Monday," you confirm.

"See ya then. Oh and bring the cutie by tonight. I wanna see those cheeks." She trills.

"Thanks again." You drone and hang up. You suppress a sigh.

"Bit young to be leaving him with strangers." John startles you.

You look over at him as he emerges from the bedroom. Shirtless, hair mussed, rubbing his eyes. You take a step back and clasp your phone behind your back.

"Well... Uh, I gotta." You shrug.

His eyes dip. You try not to show you notice. Tristan fed before he dozed off but you're still feeling full.

"Lotta work." He says as he struts across the kitchen, not that it takes him more than a few steps. He opens the fridge. You frown. "Gonna have to pump if you're headed back to work."

You hug your chest, self-consciously.

"I'll figure it out." You sniff.

You don't have one. You were trying to find something you could afford yet formula seems like it will be just as expensive. You sway and turn away. You go to check on your son as he sleep cradled in your lap pillow on the seat of the chair.

"Not child safe, is it?" He comments.

You pick up Tristan. You know it isn't the best idea but the ring pillow keeps him in place. You were too scared to sneak in and roll out the bassinet.

"I know. I... I have things to do. To take care of him."

"Right." He utters. You wince.

"Sorry, I don't have much to offer. Hope you got some good sleep." You say awkwardly, focusing on your baby.

"Clearly," he scoffs.

You keep your head down and admire Tristan instead. Maybe you don't have much, but you have him. Everyone thinks it's a mistake but no one offered any better options.

You don't know what to say or do. You keep Tristan snug in your arms and face John.

"Are you okay? Whatever happened to you?" You ask.

He considers you. His expression is cryptic. You can't tell if he's mad or just disinterested.

"Had worse." He says. "Definitely could be a lot worse." He looks around derisively. You shrink back.

"Oh, well... I'm sorry."

"For what?" He challenges.

"I don't know. I guess I just am," you retreat with Tristan.

You go back to the armchair and sit down. It's weird. He broke into your place yet you feel like the one who doesn't belong. You glance over to find him watching you. You don't ask for trouble but boy does it seem to find you.

🍼

John leaves but you don't feel much relief. Even without the strange encounter, more so, intrusion, you're uneasy. Bills, work, Tristan. It's all piling up.

Returning to work fills you with dread. You've sent out resumes a dozen times over. Nothing. You have to go back.

As if your son isn't enough of a reminder. You love him. He's sweet and warm and he's all you have. It just wasn't easy to keep him.

You feed Tristan once your alone. It hurts as you were too shy to do it with John there. Usually, it doesn't bother you that much.

You take the infant down to see Darcy. She's happy to hold him. Her youngest is only a few months older. She says it will be her last.

"My, you look tired," she comments on your sixth yawn.

You laugh weakly. "He keeps me busy."

"They do that. What about dad? He doesn't take a turn?"

She doesn't know any better. You never told her it's just you. Not explicitly. It's embarrassing to say it.

"Works too much," you lie and yet it's not too far off the truth.

"Men. They'll help you make em, not to found of changing and feeding em though."

You leave her as your breasts fill up again. Tristan isn't hungry though. You rub your chest until it leaks. It feels better but not much.

Another shirt soaked. Your hamper is piling up. You wait until it's full to drag it to the laundromat. The machines in the building are too pricey.

The days pass on a haze. The minutes are long yet they fly by. Monday tiptoes closer and closer.

As you get up to feed Tristan at midnight, you aren't alone. The kitchen light is on as a shadow moves around. You peek out, knowing by the silhouette who it is.

"Little man is hungry," he says as he keeps his back to you.

You back up to grab a blanket. You hide your son and chest under it before you emerge. "Got you this."

He turns and claps his hand on the box. You blink. It's one of those pumps you coveted in the nursing group online. Not manual, but one of the ones with five star review.

"Oh." You stare.

He watches out. "Uh, thanks?" He goads.

"Thanks, but uh, you didn't have to. I didn't ask--"

"You got no one to asks, do you?" He says your name and you flinch. The noise of Tristan suckling draws his gaze downward. " Filled up the fridge too."

"John, uh, Captain?" You peek at the fridge. "Erm..."

"Not much the little guy's gonna get off ya if you're not fed," he shrugs.

"It's really generous but... I'm a fry cook at the drive thru. I can't pay you back." You shift Tristan as he unlatched and move the blanket. You bounce him as you try to pat the gas from him.

"Didn't ask. Boy needs a good influence." John insists. You chew your lip. His kindness seems more like boasting.

"Well, I appreciate it all but I don't think I feel right accepting all this."

"It's really strange that you think you can say no," he says.

You blink then blanch. His tone sinks like a stone on the silence. You stare at him.

"What?" You breathe.

"You're not a fry cook. Not anymore. You're a mother so you're going to raise that boy right." He crosses his arms. "Make sure he's fed and happy. Like a good woman."

You gape at him in disbelief. The way he says it makes your skin crawl. You rub Tristan's back.

You reach over to the bassinet. “Tristan,” you murmur.

“He’s sleeping. Leave him.”

John squeezes until you whine. You push on his head. “Please. Not… not in here,” you beg.

“Just go back to sleep,” he huffs and tweaks your nipple.

You yowl and sit up, your chest bouncing against his face. He snarls as he pulls away. Your son breaks out into a babble. He’s awake now.

“Goddammit,” John sneers. “This place is too small. Bed’s too small.”

“I know,” you turn your legs over the edge and stand. You pick up Tristan coo at him.

“You know but you do nothing about it,” he pushes himself to the foot of the bed. The springs squeak as he gets up and stomps out.

You rock Tristan and hush him, but he isn’t crying. You’re comforting yourself. You still can’t understand what’s happening. Or what’s happened.

Tristan isn’t hungry. He falls back asleep easily. You put him down and peer down at him. He’s so sweet. He deserves better than you.

“Get out here,” John calls from the next room.

You leave Tristan and shut the door so there’s only a few inches between the frame and edge. John sits at the table. He’s hard and naked. You rub your cheek and cross and arm over your chest.

“Come on, just get on me,” he demands. “Got me out of bed. Better be worth it.”

You drop your arms. You go to him and he catches your hip. He turns you around. You lift your night shirt as he guides you back onto his lap. You groan.

“The other guy probably wasn’t much, huh?” He taunts as he pulls your knee back over his, then the other. He has your legs open wide as he pushes you onto his lap. You grip his thighs as you try to ease the stretch. “Mmm. You know, I’m a good dad. Gonna make sure the boy has a role model.”

“Yes, Captain,” you hang your head and let him guide you up and down. You bite your lip and shudder.

“Fuck, yeah,” he rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around to cradle your tits. He fondles them roughly. “I take care of you too, don’t I?”

You whimper and hum. You can’t lie to him but if you speak, it won’t be very convincing.

He slides a hand down your stomach. You flinch as he squeezes the extra padding there. You touch his hand and he swats you away.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he warns.

He slips his hand further, spreading it wide across your pelvis. He spreads your folds with two fingers and uses the middle one to flick around your clit. You hiss in surprise. You walls twitch.

He purrs. “That’s it, baby.”

You clasp his hip and the table as he slides you up and down his dick. You let your breath out between your teeth and close your eyes. He rolls his fingertips until you spasm.

“You gonna cum? I didn’t say you could.” He snarls and bites your shoulder.

You whimper. “No, Captain, sorry…”

“Ask.” He commands as he turns his face into your neck.

“Sorry…”

“Ask,” he nips your skin.

“Captain,” your voice shakes. “Can I… cum?”

“Mmmmm,” he hums and nuzzles you. “Yes, baby,” he swirls his finger around. “Go ahead and cum for your captain.”

“Yes, Captain,” you wisp.

“Tell me when,” he snarls.

You moan and shake as he tilts his hips from below. His finger flicks faster and faster. Your thighs quake and your stomach knots. You can’t help but let the sensations overwhelm you.

“N-now, Cap–tain, I’m…” you push your head back and drone, “I’m…cummmphhhh….”

He growls and lifts you with him as he stands. He pushes you against the table, bending you over as he hammers into you from behind. His skin claps off of yours as he pins you by the back of your neck. A bottle teeters on the table as he does.

“This is what you like, huh? You want me to cum in you? Just like that greasy fucking manager?” He taunts. “No, not like him. Bigger. Better.”

He puts his other hand on your lower back and pounds against your ass. Your toes graze the floor as you cling to the table helplessly. The bottle tips and rolls off.

“I’m ready to blow, baby. Ready…” his voice trails off and he latches onto your hips. He bucks into you wildly as he roasts. You feel him coat your walls as he fucks his cum into you.

He stops, deep inside you, panting as he slaps the sides of your ass. He jiggles your flesh between his hands and snickers. He wiggles his hips.

You shift on your toes. He clucks and smacks you again.

“I didn’t say you could fucking move.” He leans in until you’re squirming.

“Sorry… Captain,” you sniffle.

He huffs. He pulls out of you roughly and his cum leaks down your thigh. You stay like that, bent over the table, dripping. He stomps around the kitchen.

“Good girl, you stay just like that,” he nears and you don’t dare move.

You flinch as suddenly he pokes at your cunt. He pushes his fingers into you then scoops out his cum. He smears it around with his fingers and purrs. You quiver as he rubs it around your oversensitive clit.

He rips his hand away and struts around the table. He leans in and shoves his cellphone in your face. You blink at the lens in shock. He presses his fingers to your lips.

“Open up,” he orders.

Your lip trembles before you can react. You open your mouth and he shoves his slimy fingers inside. He pushes deep and pulls back out. He thrusts his fingers as if fucking you, aiming the camera at you as he does.

The noise that roused you repeats. You look up as John pops open another cupboard. He takes out a large tin and tuts. He slams it on the counter.

You look down at Tristan. His breaths rise softly in his tiny chest. Your own is exposed. You snap your nursing bra shut and pull your shirt up.

“What’s going on?” You rasp as you stand.

“You feed him this shit?” He snarls as he grabs the container of formula.

“Not really. I got it in case.” You cradle Tristan as he sleeps. “I got a coupon…”

“You don’t seem to have a problem getting the real stuff.” He scoffs.

“Um, yeah, I just…”

“I got you a fucking pump.” He snips.

“Thank you–”

“Ugh.” He rolls his eyes. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help?”

You stare at him. “Help?” You both answer and ask.

“Pack. I got us a place.”

You don’t question that. You can sense he’s at the end of his rope.

“Sure, let me put him down.”

“Ah, he blocks you with his arm. “Come here.”

You face him and move closer. He reaches past Tristan and squeezes your tit. You leak a little; enough to dribble through the layers.

“Mm, go put him down. I’m thirsty.”

You nod stiffly as he lets you go. Your chest hurts terribly. You go into the bedroom and set Tristan in the bassinet. He stirs but doesn’t wake.

You go back out. John is on a chair, waiting. He beckons you closer with two fingers. You go to him.

“Get on me. Fast.”

You know what he wants. You know better than to deny him. You reach down and open his fly. You pull him out of his jeans. He’s already hard.

He groans as you handle him. You shudder and grip him tight. You stroke him and he snarls.

“Hey, don’t play with me. Get the fuck in my lap,” he grits.

You let go and push down your pajamas. You grab his shoulders and climb up onto him, bending your legs over his thighs. Your hips hurt as you reach beneath you and find him.

You push his tip against your cunt and ease down. You bite your lip as he tugs at your shirt. He pulls the loose fabric under the nursing bra. He unsnaps the cup of the bra and gropes your tit.

“Mm,” he hums as you sink onto him. You squeak. “Act like you’ve never fucked before.” His other hand spreads across your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

He guides your motion as his fingers dig into your flesh. He bows his head and seals his lips around your nipple. You rock your hips over him as he suckles. The tug in your chest is both a relief and sickening. He hums as he kneads your breast, milking you as he drinks greedily.

He bites down and you cry out. You grab onto your hair. He growls and bites harder, leaning into your hand meanly. You pull your palm away and grab onto his shoulder again.

You tilt your hips, ignoring the pang, ignoring the shame, and chase the end of it. Not everything, just this.

He drags his hand around and slams you down, over and over. You moan and mewl as you close your eyes and tip your head back. You pant furiously as you let him use you, groping one side of your chest as he as good as gnaws on the other.

Your body isn't your own. It hasn't been in a long time. You let Pete use you, then it was pregnancy, and feeding Tristan, and now, it's his. You stare at his shield leaning against the counter as you keep your hips moving. John Walker isn't a man you just walk away from.

😈

“So, hell of a lot nicer than that shit hole with the bitch neighbour,” John scoffs as he walks ahead of you, taking it all in. The house is big and bright, large windows letting in the sunlight between creamy drapes.

"Uh huh, sure,” you hold Tristan against your chest as you stand by the door.

"Fully furnished,” he proclaims as he turns. His face drops. "What's up? You don't like it?"

“I didn't say–"

“That look on your face. Says enough." He challenges.

“No, it's not…" you take a breath. “It's a very nice house. Really. It's just a big adjustment."

“Uh huh. Well, you're gonna have to adjust, aren't you?" He sneers.

“John, I'm doing my best," you say. “Can you get the bassinet in and I'll help with the boxes–”

"You kidding me? You think it'll look good me letting a new mom carry in boxes?"

“What do you mean–"

“I am– was Captain America,” he says. "Now I'm doing whatever with his old war buddy and shit. People watch. Everyone's got a camera in their pocket." He huffs darkly. “You look after our son and let me do the work. That's how this is gonna be. And once I'm done with the heavy lifting, you can thank me."

He winks and his mouth slants up at one corner. It's the first time he's done anything close to smile. You nod and pet Tristan's head.

“Yes, Captain," you say.

“Hmm," he reaches to caress your chin. “Get him to sleep. Wait for me. Naked. I shouldn't be too long."

“Okay." You nod and slowly step past him.

“I'm really doing you a favour, you know that?" He grabs your arm and stops you. He brings his other hand up to put on Tristan's head. The size of his head makes the baby seem even smaller. “Single mom's don't win the lottery often. Sloppy seconds and all that."

You bat your lashes. “Thank you, Captain. For everything."

He stares at you. He slips his hand under your arm. Your heart lurches as you realise what he's doing.

“John," you warn. “Don't, I got him–"

“Don't tell me what to do." He slides both hands under Tristan and scoops him out of your grasp. “He's my son too."

You watch helplessly as he brings your son against his chest. Your lip trembles and your veins flow with ice. You're shaking violently.

“Please give him back," you squeak.

“Why? What are you scared of?" He asks as he stares down at Tristan. He rocks him. “He's so small. You'd think he'd be huge with all the food he gets…” he touches the baby's cheek. "Soft and… fragile."

“John," you murmur. “Can I please have him back?"

“What do you think I'm gonna do?" He asks. He keeps Tristan cradled in his arm as he spreads his hand over his small chest, making a very under his neck with his pointer and thumb.

“I think you're going to take care of us, John." You say carefully. “And that's why I want him back. So you can do that while I watch him."

He stares at you. His blue eyes shine. He steps closer and leans in to give you Tristan. The weight lifts of your chest as your son's settles against it.