#jbb 2026

Because Steve Rogers always came back different.

That slight delay was the first thing.

Then came the other things.

The way his hand would instinctively seek yours when you were silent. How, even in his sleep, he’d shift ever so slightly toward your side of the bed, as if he needed to confirm your presence without fully waking up. The way his breathing would change when you strayed too far, even if it was just to another room.

It wasn’t obvious.

But it was there.

And you could feel it.

At first you thought it was just a habit. That after everything he’d been through, everything he’d lost, it was normal for him to seek an anchor in something real, something that wouldn’t change.

But it wasn’t just that.

You understood it completely that night when you woke up for no apparent reason. The room was dark and quiet, with that kind of silence that doesn’t weigh on you and that simply exists. You shifted slightly, looking for a more comfortable position, and then you noticed he wasn’t there.

Not in bed.

Not in the room.

You got up quietly, walking barefoot down the hallway, and found him in the living room, standing by the window, looking out as if he were waiting to see something that never quite appeared.

You approached slowly.

“Steve,” you said softly.

He reacted immediately.

He did not startle but instead responded with an alertness that seemed to be a constant part of him. He turned toward you, and for a second—just a second—his expression wasn’t that of Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You gently shook your head.

You moved a little closer.

“Can’t you sleep?”

He hesitated.

“When I close my eyes,” he continued, even more quietly, “…there are moments when I feel that if I stop thinking about where I am… I’m going to open them somewhere else.”

One afternoon, you decided not to tell him exactly when you’d be back.

Not as a test.

Not as a game.

It just… happened.

You were later than planned: traffic, a couple of phone calls, and little things that pile up. When you finally walked into the apartment, the first thing you noticed was the silence.

Too much silence.

You found him in the living room.

Sitting.

Motionless.

His hands were clasped, resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on a spot that didn’t really seem to be there.

He didn’t react right away when you walked in.

And that was what worried you.

“Steve,” you called.

He looked up.

And for a moment…

He stood up quickly.

Too quickly.

And in two steps, he was already standing in front of you.

He didn’t hug you right away.

He stopped just inches away.

As if he needed to confirm that you were real.

That you were there.

That you weren’t a memory.

Then he did.

He hugged you.

Tightly.

Tighter than usual.

His hands on your back, holding you as if letting go were a dangerous option.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t push him away.

You just stood there.

Letting that moment exist.

“I thought…” he began, but didn’t finish the sentence.

There was no need.

You rested your cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.

“I’m here,” you repeated.

This time, he didn’t answer.

But his grip didn’t loosen.

That night, when they went to bed, it was different.

Not because of what they did.

But because of how.

He didn’t move a single inch away from you.

His arm around you, his breath near your neck, as if every part of his body were making sure you were there.

You noticed it, too.

Your pace slowed as you made your way down the narrow hallway of the ruined building. The walls were covered in dark stains—some fresh, others already dry—forming layers.

“This wasn’t in the reports,” you murmured.

Steve shook his head slightly, without taking his eyes off the path ahead.

“No.”

They moved a few more meters until they reached a partially open room. The door was broken, hanging by a single hinge, as if someone had desperately tried to get out… or to keep something from getting in.

Steve pushed the door open with his shield.

The sound of metal against wood echoed more than it should have.

Inside, everything was still.

Overturned tables.

Scattered papers.

Medical equipment strewn about haphazardly.

And in the center… the body.

Or what was left of it.

You took a deep breath, trying not to react instinctively.

The skin wasn’t simply damaged. There were areas where it looked as if it had been… consumed from the inside. As if something had grown beneath it, forcing its way out. The marks weren’t from teeth. They weren’t from a knife.

They were irregular.

Organic.

Steve approached cautiously, observing without touching.

“This isn’t a normal attack,” he said.

You nodded, though your attention was already elsewhere.

The movement.

It was minimal.

Almost imperceptible.

But you saw it.

Something beneath the skin of the body’s arm… moved.

As if responding to your presence.

“Steve,” you whispered.

He saw it, too.

The silence was broken in that instant.

The body shook violently.

It was not like someone waking up.

Like something trying to get out.

The skin tightened.

It split open.

And from it emerged a dark, wet, pulsating mass that spread rapidly across the floor, emitting a sound that was neither a growl nor a screech, but something in between—something that didn’t belong to any known creature.

Steve reacted first.

He pushed the body away with his shield while grabbing your arm to pull you back.

“Back up,” he ordered.

But there wasn’t just one.

The sound began to echo.

From the hallway.

From other rooms.

From the walls themselves.

As if the entire building were alive.

Or infected.

They ran.

There was no strategy.

There was no time.

Only instinct.

The creatures weren’t quick in the conventional sense, but they were persistent. They slithered, crawled, and clung to surfaces, seeking heat, movement, and life.

One of them leaped from a corner.

Steve blocked it with his shield, smashing it against the wall. The mass writhed, emitting that wet sound, trying to wrap itself around the metal.

“Don’t touch it,” you said urgently.

But it was too late.

A piece broke off.

Small.

Fast.

It slithered up his arm.

Steve swatted it away immediately, smashing it against the floor.

It looked dead.

But the damage was already done.

They made their way out of the building as best they could, blocking the entrance behind them, though they both knew that wouldn’t stop anything.

The air outside wasn’t much better.

But at least you could breathe.

You turned to him right away.

“Let me see.”

Steve hesitated for a second.

Then he held out his arm.

The wound was minor.

Just a superficial cut.

Nothing that would normally worry him.

But the skin around it… was moving.

Not visibly to the naked eye.

But enough for someone paying close attention to notice.

“No,” you murmured.

The change wasn’t immediate.

But it was fast.

Faster than it should have been.

First the heat.

Then came the tension in his muscles.

Then that sensation of something not fitting inside his body.

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to stay in control.

“I’m fine,” he said.

But he wasn’t.

You knew it.

“Are you ready, Captain?” Jenna whispered.

Steve nodded, feeling the blindfold press against his skin. The silence was broken when Jenna placed a handkerchief over his mouth, preventing him from speaking. Now he could hear every movement, every breath.

Jenna began with a gentle caress on his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles with the tips of her fingernails. Steve felt a shiver run down his spine as Jenna slowly moved downward, kissing every inch of his abdomen. “You like it when I have you this helpless, don’t you?” Jenna murmured against his skin.

Steve responded with a muffled moan, instinctively thrusting his hips toward the contact he craved. Jenna laughed softly, refusing to give him what he wanted so easily.

With deliberate movements, Jenna slid downward, forcefully spreading his legs apart. Steve felt the heat of her breath near his erection, gasping against the scarf. Jenna looked at him, relishing her power over the most powerful man in the world.

“Let’s play a game, Captain,” Jenna said as her fingers explored his insides. “If you can guess where I’m going to touch you next, I’ll give you a reward.”

Steve felt Jenna withdraw her touch, leaving him in suspense. The seconds stretched into an eternity until he felt a gentle touch on his left knee. He tried to say “left,” but only a guttural sound came out.

“Wrong,” Jenna said with a smile. “The reward will have to wait.”

Jenna continued to alternate between gentle caresses and painful pinches. Steve was losing control; every time Jenna got close to his erection, she pulled back just before the crucial moment.

“Please,” he managed to whisper, barely audible.

Jenna seemed to consider his request, finally deciding to grant him some relief. With slow, deliberate movements, she began to massage him, watching as his body responded with spasms of pleasure.

“That’s how you like it, isn’t it, Captain?” Jenna whispered, picking up the pace.

Steve nodded frantically, feeling the orgasm approaching. But just as he was about to reach it, Jenna stopped completely.

“Not so fast,” she said with a giggle. “You haven’t earned your reward yet.”

Jenna moved to position herself on top of him, lowering herself slowly. Steve felt her begin to move at a pace that drove him wild, her hips finding a perfect rhythm.

“You were gone a long time,” Jenna murmured, stepping closer to greet him. Steve let out a deep sigh, dropping his suitcase to the floor.

“Yeah, it was tougher than expected.”

Jenna cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs caressing his stubbly jaw.

“You need to relax, Steve. Let me help you.”

“You need to relax, Steve. Let me help you.”

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, filled with the pent-up tension of weeks apart. Jenna led him toward the bedroom, her hands unbuttoning Steve’s uniform with an urgency that mirrored her own. “I’ve missed you,” Steve whispered against Jenna’s neck, his hands exploring every curve of her body.

“Me too,” she replied, arching against his touch. “So much.”

Steve took control, his pent-up strength unleashing itself with every movement. Jenna met him with equal fervor, her moans filling the room as Steve brought her to the brink of ecstasy again and again.

After they both reached their climax, they remained entwined, their breaths ragged. Jenna played with Steve’s blond hair, her mind wandering toward darker thoughts.

“You trust me, don’t you, Captain?” Jenna asked.

Jenna approached the bed and, with slow, deliberate movements, tied Steve’s wrists to the headboard rails. The silk ribbons were fastened securely—not to cause pain, but to immobilize him, to leave him completely at her mercy. Steve tested the restraints, an almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.

“Perfect,” Jenna whispered, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “Now, let’s play my way.”

She knelt on the bed, strategically positioned above him, but without making the contact he craved. Her hands began an exploratory journey, from his shoulders down to his chest, pausing to play with his nipples until they hardened beneath her touch. Steve let out a low growl.

“Shhh, be patient,” Jenna murmured, though her own breathing was quickening. “Tonight, I decide when and how.”

She lowered her torso, her lips following the path her hands had traced. Each kiss was a small promise; each lick a foretaste of what was to come. When she reached his abdomen—already erect and throbbing—she paused, staring at him with an intensity that almost made him ejaculate right then and there.

“Look what I do to you, soldier. So hard, so eager. Do you want me to relieve you?”

Steve could only nod, his words caught in his throat. Jenna smiled, satisfied. With agonizing slowness, she took his erection in her hand.

“Jenna, please,” he pleaded, his hips arching toward her hand.

“Not yet.”

Jenna smiled triumphantly. Finally, she lowered her head, her warm lips enveloping him. Steve let out a moan as she began to move, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony that left him breathless.

When she sensed Steve was about to come, Jenna picked up the pace, driving him to ecstasy. Just as he climaxed, she pulled back slightly, letting Steve’s heat splash across her face and lips. With her eyes closed, she stuck out her tongue to taste him.

“Mine,” Jenna whispered, opening her eyes to look at him. “All mine.”

After a moment to catch her breath, Jenna untied Steve’s wrists. Immediately, he took her in his arms, reversing their positions. Now it was he who had her pinned beneath his weight, his eyes shining with a new determination.

“My turn,” Steve said. He trailed down her body, kissing every inch of skin until he reached between her legs. Jenna was already wet, her hips instinctively moving toward his mouth. Steve began to pleasure her with a skill that only he possessed, knowing every sensitive spot, every rhythm that would drive her wild.

Jenna’s moans filled the room as Steve brought her to the brink again and again. Just as she was about to climax, he stopped, looking at her with a mischievous smile.

“Steve, don’t stop,” she pleaded, frustrated.

“Not until you ask me for what I want,” he replied. “I want you to swallow every last drop I give you. Without spilling a single drop. Will you do that for me?”

Jenna looked at him and nodded, unable to form the words.

“Say it,” Steve insisted. “Tell me you’ll do it.”

“Yes, I will.”

—Estuviste fuera mucho tiempo —murmuró Jenna, acercándose para recibirlo. Steve soltó un suspiro profundo, dejando caer su maleta al suelo.

—Sí, fue más complicado de lo esperado.

Jenna tomó su cara entre sus manos, sus pulgares acariciando su mandíbula rasposa.

—Necesitas relajarte, Steve. Déjame ayudarte.

Sus labios se encontraron en un beso apasionado, lleno de la tensión acumulada de semanas separados. Jenna lo guió hacia el dormitorio, sus manos desabrochando el uniforme de Steve con una urgencia que reflejaba la suya propia. —Te he extrañado —susurró Steve contra el cuello de Jenna, mientras sus manos exploraban cada curva de su cuerpo.

—Yo también —respondió ella, arqueándose contra su toque—. Demasiado.

Steve está tomando el control, su fuerza contenida liberándose en cada movimiento. Jenna lo recibió con igual fervor, sus gemidos llenando la habitación mientras Steve la llevaba al borde del éxtasis una y otra vez.

Después de que ambos alcanzaron su clímax, permanecieron abrazados, sus respiraciones entrecortadas. Jenna jugó con el cabello rubio de Steve, su mente divagando hacia pensamientos más oscuros.

—Confías en mí, ¿verdad, Capitán? —preguntó Jenna.

Jenna se acercó a la cama y, con movimientos lentos y deliberados, ató las muñecas de Steve a las barras de la cabecera. Las telas de seda se afirmaron firmemente, no para causar dolor, sino para inmovilizarlo, para dejarlo completamente a su merced. Steve probó las ataduras, una sonrisa casi imperceptible en sus labios.

—Perfecto —susurró Jenna, recorriendo con la yema de los dedos la línea de su mandíbula. —Ahora, vamos a jugar a mi manera.

Se arrodilló en la cama, estratégicamente posicionada sobre él, pero sin hacer el contacto que él ansiaba. Sus manos comenzaron un viaje exploratorio, desde sus hombros hasta el pecho, deteniéndose para jugar con sus pezones hasta que se endurecieron bajo su toque. Steve emitió un gruñido bajo.

—Shhh, paciencia —murmuró Jenna, aunque su propia respiración se aceleraba—. Esta noche, yo decido cuándo y cómo.

Bajó su torso, sus labios siguiendo el camino que sus manos habían trazado. Cada beso era una pequeña promesa, cada lametazo un anticipo de lo que estaba por venir. Cuando llegó a su abdomen, ya erecto y pulsante, se detuvo, mirándolo con una intensidad que casi lo hizo eyacular en ese momento.

—Mira lo que hago contigo, soldado. Tan duro, tan deseoso. ¿Quieres que te lo alivie?

Steve solo pudo asentir, sus palabras atrapadas en su garganta. Jenna sonrió, satisfecha. Con una lentitud tortuosa, tomó su erección en su mano.

—Jenna, por favor —rogó él, sus caderas arqueándose hacia su mano.

—No todavía.

Jenna sonrió triunfante. Finalmente, bajó su cabeza, sus labios calientes rodeándolo. Steve soltó un gemido cuando comenzó a moverse, su lengua y labios trabajando en una armonía perfecta que lo dejó sin aliento.

Cuando sintió que Steve estaba a punto de culminar, Jenna aumentó el ritmo, llevándolo al éxtasis. Justo en el momento del clímax, se apartó ligeramente, permitiendo que el calor de Steve salpicara su rostro y sus labios. Con los ojos cerrados, extendió la lengua para probarlo.

—Mío —susurró Jenna, abriendo los ojos para mirarlo. —Todo mío.

Después de un momento para recuperarse, Jenna desató las muñecas de Steve. Inmediatamente, él la tomó en sus brazos, invirtiendo sus posiciones. Ahora era él quien la tenía inmovilizada bajo su peso, sus ojos brillando con una nueva determinación.

—Mi turno —dijo Steve. Bajó por su cuerpo, besando cada centímetro de piel hasta llegar entre sus piernas. Jenna ya estaba húmeda, sus caderas moviéndose instintivamente hacia su boca. Steve comenzó a complacerla con una habilidad que solo él poseía, conociendo cada punto sensible, cada ritmo que la llevaría a la locura.

Los gemidos de Jenna llenaron la habitación mientras Steve la llevaba al borde una y otra vez. Justo cuando estaba a punto de alcanzar el clímax, se detuvo, mirándola con una sonrisa pícara.

—Steve, no te detengas —rogó ella, frustrada.

—No, hasta que me pidas lo que quiero —respondió él—. Quiero que te tragues todo lo que te dé. Sin derramar ni una gota. ¿Lo harás por mí?

Jenna lo miró, asintió, incapaz de formar palabras.

—Dímelo —insistió Steve. —Dime que lo harás.

—Sí, lo haré.