#soft!dom

After that fateful night, Neteyam found you wandering through the forest all by yourself—your stomach growling, your body covered in bruises and scratches from the dangerous flora and fauna surrounding you. Neteyam assured himself that you simply could not take care of yourself, such a tiny human, so fragile and weak compared to his own strength. He told himself he was being kind by allowing you to trail behind him, hurriedly clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you alive—which he was. Without him, he was certain you wouldn’t last a single day in the forest.

From the very first moment he saw you, he could sense that you were different. Unlike the other aliens your scent did not repulse him; instead, it was pleasant—unbearably so—like that of an omega. The moment he laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you, that Eywa had crossed your paths so you could become the future olo’eyktan’s bride. He imagined you as the pretty thing seated on his lap, clinging to him as he gave orders to his people. As the son of Toruk Makto, he carried great responsibility, so it was only right that he have one thing—one thing he could selfishly claim as his own.

Now you stood trembling like a leaf as two Na’vi women dressed you accordingly. The scraps you had worn annoyed him immensely, hiding your figure when you should instead be adorned in beautiful beads and stones of his choosing. You looked at Neteyam with wide eyes; he was the only one you knew in this frightening place. Having lived your entire life in the RDA compound with your father, a scientist, you had always yearned for more—beyond the gray, sterile walls. Living such a monotonous life with no end in sight, you had decided to escape. Just once, you told yourself. You would sneak out, explore your surroundings, see the beauty of the outside world—just for a moment. Then you would return behind the gates and forget it ever happened.

What was meant to be a brief outing turned into hours as you immediately became lost in the vast jungle of Pandora. Every turn you took felt wrong, danger lurking at every step. Your skin was scratched by sharp thorns, your head dizzy with hunger, and your legs aching from hours of walking. Eventually, you sat beneath a tree to rest for a few minutes before resuming your search for the outpost.

The sound of rustling leaves woke you. Seeing a human so deep in the forest while on a hunt was unexpected for Neteyam. Since childhood, his mother had warned him of the danger of humans—how they had destroyed their planet, how they were monsters. He raised his bow, ready to shoot, until your scent reached him. It drove him nearly mad. No Na’vi woman had ever smelled like this before. Was it possible? Could you be an omega? It went against everything he had ever known—humans couldn’t be omegas. Yet the scent only drew him closer. Before he realized it, he was lowering his bow and walking toward you.

Your eyes snapped open, freezing in fear at the sight of the blue creature approaching. You had never seen a Na’vi in person, only heard of them through your father and his colleagues. You knew this was their planet, that this was not your home, but the sight was still shocking. Despite the differences in his appearance, you could tell he was beautiful—strong, lean, adorned with beaded braids and blue skin. You were mesmerized by the figure before you.

“Don’t run away, yawne,” he said in a thick accent. Neteyam hadn’t spoken English since childhood—the forgotten language of his father’s people. Your scent grew stronger as he approached, the alpha within him aching to bury his face in your neck and scent you. Resisting the urge was nearly impossible.

“Hey, yawne, come here, sweetheart.”

For reasons you couldn’t explain, you felt compelled to listen. Your body told you that you would be safe with him. Against your better judgment, you stepped toward him, freezing once more when he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder and inhaling deeply. The scent drove him mad. He was absolutely certain—you were his mate, chosen by Eywa to be his beloved. He couldn’t believe that such a tiny human was meant to be his. You were undeniably beautiful, with wide doe eyes staring up at him.

He needed you to be his.

Every detail was etched into his memory—the way your wide eyes stared up at him, the way your chest rose rapidly, the plump pout of your lips as you looked at him.

“What are you doing here, little human?” His voice was husky, full of restraint as he forced himself to stay still instead of acting on instinct there on the forest floor.

“I… I got lost. I can’t find my way back home.” You stared at him with those damn doe eyes, and for a moment, he almost felt bad for you.

Your words brought a smile to his face. By Eywa, you were adorable if you truly believed he would ever let you go back to those people—no, those monsters.

“Hm… it’s getting late, sevin. Why don’t you come back to my village, and in the morning I’ll take you back to your home myself.”

You immediately nodded at his words. One more second in these woods would drive you insane. Your father would surely kill you for sneaking out of the outposts, but you’d rather be grounded for a month than eaten by one of the animals in this forest.

Neteyam smiled softly, as if he could hear your thoughts—the gears turning in your head.

“My name is Neteyam, yawne. Come here, pretty. Climb onto my back—we’re never going to make it to camp if we walk.”

You felt absolutely ridiculous in your new attire, your warm sweater and pants replaced by a loincloth and simple beads that barely covered your breasts. Neteyam had insisted that, even if it was only for one night, you absolutely had to wear his culture’s traditional clothing. Though doubtful, you hesitantly agreed. It was just for one night, and you were going to be sleeping the entire time anyway, so what was the harm?

Neteyam couldn’t believe his eyes. You looked utterly ethereal, like one of his own kind, as if you were meant to be there with him. He could already envision your future—riding his ikran together, swimming in the river. He had waited so long for his mate. He had convinced you to sleep in his tent, wanting to be sure he could protect you from any creatures or Na’vi who might wish to harm you. You believed him immediately, praising him for his brilliant idea as you tugged at the edges of his loincloth, urging him to take you to his tent and away from the unfamiliar world you faced.

You were certain you could trust Teyam. He had saved you—you probably wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for him. So what if he said he wanted to hold you while he slept, his face buried in the crook of your neck? Sleeping close to another was likely part of his culture. He wouldn’t have any other intentions… right?

After making sure you had fallen asleep, Neteyam softly began lapping his tongue at your neck. Dear Eywa, your skin was so soft, so supple—one wrong move and he could break you. Grasping your hand within his own, he groaned at their difference in their size. Could you even take all of him? You had to, for you were his mate, destined to bond with him. His hands began to roam your stomach, he wouldn't go far today, he told himself. Just a little more... His hands went higher, slipping beneath the beads covering your chest to graze your nipples, earning a startled gasp from your slumbering form.

Even in your light sleep, your body responded to his touches. He could feel his desire growing, his clothed cock hardening and rubbing against your back as his tongue lavished the spot where he would soon mark you as his own. His hands found your breasts, grasping and kneading the soft flesh as you began to stir from your light sleep at the feeling of Neteyam's caresses. "’Teyam? What... what are you doing?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes were blurry with sleep and your mind was foggy, not understanding the situation you were in. "Shhh, stay still Yawne," Neteyam breathed, his voice thick with lust. "Let me take care of you, okay? Don't worry, Sevin, I'll handle everything." His mind was clearly consumed by lust, rational thought clouded by his desire. One of his roaming hands left your chest to slip beneath your loincloth, palming your supple mound.

"Wait - ah... wait, Neteyam," you whimpered, but your protests fell on deaf ears. His fingers found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with a torturously slow rhythm. Soft, breathy moans escaped your lips as he stoked the fires of your own desire. "Shhh, it's okay, little human," he soothed, "I've got you. You won't ever need to be with the sky people again." Lost in a haze of sensation, your mind couldn't grasp the ominous implications in his words.

Neteyam's finger pushed forward, breaching your tight opening. He would need to train your tiny hole to accept him, he thought, if you could barely take a single digit. How was he supposed to fit inside you? Your body writhed with pleasure, back arching as he curled his finger. Your body squirmed and shuddered with ecstasy as Neteyam's finger curled inside you, stroking that sweet spot within you. "That's it, Yawne," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "You're doing so well, baby. You can another finger for me, okay?" He didn't wait for a response before adding a second digit, stretching you even further.

The initial pain was sharp but fleeting, quickly melting into pleasure as your body adjusted to the intrusion. It was as if your walls were made to be filled by him, molding to the shape of his fingers as if they belonged there. Neteyam could feel your body's eager response, your inner muscles clenching and fluttering around him, drawing him deeper. He knew you were close, your breath coming in ragged gasps and soft, keening cries. "Come on, baby," he urged, his thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts. “Let go for me sevin, i’m right here.,”

Your body responded to Neteyam's command as if possessed, obeying his will. A shattering climax overtook you, stars exploding behind your closed eyelids as waves of pure, bliss crashed over you. Your inner walls clamping down around his fingers. Neteyam took that moment to sink his teeth into your neck with a low, possessive growl. He marked you claiming you as his own. Your mind was too far gone in pleasure to question or protes. As you slowly drifted down from the heights of your orgasm, in the fogginess of your mind one thing stood clear. Neteyam wasn't taking you home in the morning.

♡

♡

🩷 date ──── Dec. 26, 2024

🩷 a/n ──── Gentle reminder that I know I have a lot of requests I need to take care of, and they are going to be dealt with, slowly but surely. Thank you for your patience 🙏🏻😁

SHE THINKS SHE should tell him, but she doesn’t know him well enough to be sure that Lando isn’t easily scared. Or worse, that he wouldn’t walk out on her the second her little secret gets out.

They’ve only been dating for two weeks, but somehow it feels longer than that. Obviously, they’ve talked about sex before, but only casually, the way new couples do when everything still feels exciting and full of possibilities. But she never told him outright that she’s a virgin. He never specifically asked, and she didn’t see a way to bring it up without making things awkward.

In the midst of her chaotic thoughts, two things are certain: 1) she doesn’t want to ruin the moment, and 2) there’s no doubt he likes her. She sees it in the way Lando looks at her, and she feels it in the way his hands touch her, sometimes by accident, other times with so much intent.

That’s why she doesn’t want to burden him with expectations or make him feel like he has to change to meet some unspoken standard. She wants him as he is: unfiltered, imperfect, and real.

It’s almost midnight, and the room is drenched in a quiet intimacy. Lando sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing against hers slowly. The soft golden glow of the bedside lamp illuminates his face, accentuating the way his lips curve into a smile that’s equal parts teasing and tender.

“You’ve been quiet,” he points out, his voice a smooth drawl that makes her stomach flip. His thumb strokes over her palm, coaxing her to meet his gaze. “That nervous?”

Her breath catches in her throat, feeling it closing in from the inside, but she nods, not trusting her voice.

“That’s okay, baby,” says Lando gently, leaning in. The warmth of his breath fans against her skin as his lips ghost over her jawline. “I want to take care of you. Can I do that?”

She nods again, her heart thudding against her rib. But the way Lando is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters, eases some of the tension coiling in her chest.

She really thinks that she should tell him.

But.

“Words, love,” he interrupts her thoughts, his tone soft yet firm. Lando’s hand tilts her chin up so she’s looking directly at him. “I need to hear you, so I know we’re on the same page.”

“Yes, Lando,” she replies back, his name dripping from her mouth like honey. “I want this with you.”

His smile widens, but there’s a flicker of desire tempered with a bit of restraint. “Sweet girl,” he says softly, the praise rolling off his tongue like a caress.

She closes her eyes, the words making her cheeks flush, but they also spark something inside her, a yearning she’s never felt so acutely before.

Suddenly, the air between them feels charged with so much expectancy. She knows where this is heading, can feel it in the way his eyes linger on hers, in the heat of his touch that seems to burn through her skin. The thought alone forces a wave of excitement rolling through her. At that, her body reacts before her mind catches up: her breaths quicken, her thighs press together instinctively, and a warm, insistent ache blooms low in her belly. She’s wet already, just from the anticipation, her thoughts spiraling into images of Lando gasping for air above her.

She shakes her head to push those thoughts away, just as he pulls her closer, his hands steady and confident as they frame her face. When he kisses her, his lips are so soft, moving against hers in a way that leaves no room for doubt. He’s in control, but he’s also completely attuned to her.

“If you need me to stop,” he says against her lips, “If anything feels wrong, just tell me, and we’ll talk about it. Gonna need your words for this, yeah?” he continues as she nods again, making Lando puff out a small giggle. “What did I say?”

Words. Right.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” she says, her voice tinged with nervousness.

Lando hums in approval, his hands sliding down to her waist. He moves her gently, guiding her to lie back on the bed as he leans over her. His movements are measured, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his hands skim beneath her shirt, she tenses for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, and Lando immediately freezes.

“Hey,” he says softly, his brow furrowing in concern. “Too much?”

“No,” she replies quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just. I’ve nev—”

He doesn’t let her finish. His thumb strokes soothing circles against her hip as he leans down to kiss her again, silencing her nervous stammer.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’ll go slow, alright? You and I. Just trust me.”

His words are like a balm, and she finds herself relaxing under his touch as she swallows her words once again. He takes his time removing her shirt, his eyes never leaving hers as if to reassure her with every move.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he says in awe.

Her hands shake as she reaches for him, and he lets her take the lead for a moment, watching her with a quiet intensity as she unbuttons his shirt. She fumbles slightly, and he chuckles, the sound soft and warm.

“Relax, love. It’s just me,” he says, leaning down to kiss her temple; a small act of tenderness that somehow steadies her racing heart.

The warmth of his lips lingers, anchoring her in the moment as her nerves begin to settle. When there’s no barrier left between them, Lando’s hands explore her body patiently, every touch giving her goosebumps. Then, his fingers travel lower, slipping between her legs, and he freezes in place, his breath hitching.

“Shit,” he mumbles mostly to himself, amazed when he realizes how much of a mess she is already. “So eager, you’re soaked. I could just slip right in, baby, you know that?”

His question sends a bolt of heat through her, a mix of embarrassment and excitement trying her, but they also give her enough courage to take action. Summoning all her nerve, she reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his cock with a tentative but determined grip.

She guides him to her entrance, her voice quiet but impatient as she whispers, “Then do it.”

Suddenly, that’s more than enough for Lando to let his instincts take over.

He exhales sharply as he pushes forward, the heat of her drawing him in inch by inch. The sensation of her wrapped around his length nearly undoes him: soft, tight, and impossibly warm. His jaw clenches as he stills for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He presses his forehead to hers, his voice strained but tender.

“So damn tight,” he gasps softly, his hand coming to rest on her hip. “How’s it on your end? Can I move?”

She nods quickly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she adjusts to the sweet stretch. “It’s—”

Good. Perfect. Heaven.

“Didn’t feel as big in my hand,” she ends up saying, making Lando laugh in a high-pitched voice.

“Not sure weather it’s a compliment or an insult,” he admits, amused.

“Just give me a sec,” she whispers, though there’s a slight trace of uncertainty in her tone.

His thumb begins to stroke soothing circles on her hip, and he kisses the corner of her mouth. “Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her.

She lets out a shaky breath, her body gradually relaxing around him. With one hand, she traces the contours of Lando’s face, studying every micro expression, every mole, and the way his breath hitches as she welcomes him in.

“You’re perfect,” she says in a small voice, her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Can you fuck me now?”

Lando whines, pulling back halfway before easing forward again, setting a slow, careful rhythm. The friction is intense, almost overwhelming, and he groans quietly, his grip on her hips tightening just a fraction.

Her lips part as a soft moan escapes her, and she tilts her head back, instinctively pushing her hips to meet his movements. “Lando,” she breathes, her voice a mix of need and disbelief.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, his tone laced with affection. “Tell me what you like, what feels good. Let me hear you, baby.”

“You,” she manages, her fingers threading through his hair. “It feels… you feel so good. All of it, please.”

The corners of his mouth raise into a small, breathless smile. “Such a good girl, aren’t you?” he praises, leaning down to kiss her neck as he resumes his thrusts. “Doing so well for me.”

Her nails dig lightly into his back, her confidence growing with each movement.

“Faster,” she whispers, her voice trembling with a foreign desire.

His brows raise slightly as he slows down, just to tease her. “You sure about that?” he asks, his voice taking on a playful edge.

“Lando,” she repeats his name, louder this time, her hips rolling against his.

“You want it that bad?” he says in slight disbelief, his movements speeding up just enough to draw a louder moan from her. Lando studies her closely, his gaze softening even as his control threatens to slip. “Look at you, fuck. Let me take care of you. Let me—”

He swallows his words as his starts thrusting into her, firmly but never rough, his touch always calibrated to her responses.

“God, you’re squeezing me so good,” he says, his lips brushing against her ear. “So hot and tight around me. Feels right, hm?”

Her breathing quickens at his words, her body responding in ways she doesn’t fully understand but craves nonetheless. His hands trail lower, and she arches into him instinctively, another whimper escaping her lips.

“I know, baby,” he says, “Keep me inside.”

Lando’s rhythm falters, then slows to an almost torturous pace. Before she can question it, he drags his cock out of her entirely, leaving her pussy clenching around nothing. A cry slips from her lips, desperate and aching, but he doesn’t give her time to protest. His length glides up between her slick, puffy folds, spreading the wetness everywhere, his movements calculated and teasing.

Not to mention evil.

“Lan...” she whines, her nails digging into his back as frustration and need overwhelm her. She isn’t gentle, her fingers pressing hard enough to sting, and he lets out a low hiss.

At the sudden pain, Lando stops entirely, his eyes snapping to hers. “Careful, baby,” he warns, his tone soft but laced with authority.

Sitting up slightly, he reaches for a pillow, lifting her hips with ease and sliding it beneath her lower back. When he thrusts back into her, it’s maddeningly slow, as if he wants her to feel everything. His hand moves to her stomach, pressing down lightly as he fucks his cock inside her. The sensation sends shockwaves through her body, and she cries out, her voice high and pleading as the pressure amplifies the pleasure.

“Feel that?” he asks, his voice rough with arousal. “Feel how deep I am?”

She can only nod, tightening her legs around him, her body trembling as she grips the sheets for support. But curiosity and the overwhelming sensations push her to rise onto her elbows, needing to see what he’s doing to her. Her gaze drops to where their bodies meet, and that’s when she sees the way her lower abdomen rises and falls slightly with each of his deep thrusts.

Her breath catches, her eyes widening in awe. “Oh my God,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Is that…?”

Lando notices her reaction immediately, his own gaze following hers. The corner of his mouth curves into a smirk, but his eyes burn with something primal. “Fucking hell,” he murmurs, tightening his hands around her waist, holding her steady. “Yeah, that’s me inside you.”

The realization sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her, and Lando seems to sense it. His grip on her waist tightens further, and he begins to move harder, his hips snapping against hers with a rhythm that’s still controlled but far more intense.

The room fills with the slik sound of her pussy as Lando thrusts in and out relentlessly, and her moans grow louder, her body arching into him.

“Let me feel you,” he almost begs. “Let go, baby. Let me feel you,” he repeats, over and over again.

She wraps her arms around Lando, pulling him closer to have something to support her. The way her pussy sucks at his cock, desperate and insistent, sends him careening over the edge before he can even process it.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, his voice breaking as his hips stutter, spilling into her with a throaty moan. He can get drunk on the way she grips him, her heat and hunger, every part of her pulling him into pure bliss.

His forehead drops to hers, their shared breaths mingling as they pant and moan together, riding out every wave of pleasure as they hit.

Her nails are still buried in his back, the sharp sting blending with the pleasure coursing through him. He winces but doesn’t stop, his body shuddering as her walls flutter around his cock, milking every last bit of him. They’re locked together, shaking, until the pleasure ebbs into a warm, lingering buzz.

After that, Lando finally stills inside her, his body softening, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he rests his weight against her. Only then does the sharp sting on his back pull his attention, and he lets out a chuckle.

“You really dug in, didn’t you?” he teases, his tone affectionate as he lifts his head to look at her. The corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk despite the ache in his muscles.

Her face flushes with embarrassment, her hands slipping away from his back, burying into his hair instead. “Sorry,” she whispers, avoiding to look at him.

“Don’t be,” he replies, his gaze soft and adoring. “It was worth it.”

Before she can add something else, Lando leans down, his lips finding hers in a kiss that’s the opposite of tender. It’s a stark contrast to the raw intensity they just shared, and a quiet reassurance that he’s still fully present with her. His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing against her flushed skin as he deepens the kiss, savoring her.

When they finally break apart, their foreheads rest together again, their breathing still uneven but calming. “You okay?” he asks softly, his eyes searching hers.

She nods, a small, blissful smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey, don’t go non-verbal on me again,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Lan?” she says softly.

“Hm?”

She swallows, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t look away this time. “You are… I mean, it was my first time.”

For a moment, her words don’t fully register. He blinks, his brows knitting together as if he’s processing what she just said. “What do you mean first time? First time?” he repeats, his tone almost disbelieving.

She struggles to hold his gaze, Lando’s eyes fix on hers. His first instinct is to check if she’s messing with him, but all he sees is her wrecked, post-sex state. Her hair is mussed and wild against the pillow, her skin flushed from her chest to her cheeks, her lips swollen and parted as she breathes unevenly. The faint sheen of sweat on her body catches the soft light, and her eyes are glassy, still hazy with satisfaction. She looks thoroughly undone and beautiful and suddenly glowing.

And he knows she’s not lying.

The realization hits him like a tsunami, leaving him momentarily speechless. His jaw tenses briefly, and instead of speaking, he leans down and captures her lips in a kiss. It’s not rushed or frantic but deep and meaningful, his lips moving against hers with a peaceful intensity. His hand cups her jaw, kissing her like he’s claiming every part of her, bit by bit. Because he is. The thought makes his head spin at the fact that she’s his completely.

“You should’ve told me,” says Lando. “I would’ve been more careful.”

“No, it was perfect,” she rushes to assure him. “Because it was with you.”

His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Are you even real?” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing her again; her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, trailing down her shoulders and neck, where he makes sure to leave marks behind. His hands roam her body with a newfound reverence, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Gonna spend the rest of the night showing you how much you mean to me,” he says, his lips brushing against her collarbone. “If you’ll let me.”

Her heart swells as she nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, his voice a small hum of satisfaction. “Because you deserve nothing less.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

he speeds up, pushing himself deeper inside of you—just slightly, enough for you to feel every inch of him. you hands claw at his back, head thrown back against the pillow. he’s everywhere—hands sliding up and down your body, face buried in your neck, mouth whispering filthy things against your ear.

“‘m close,” you breath, the familiar build up boiling low in your tummy. your legs shake against his waist, nails digging into his biceps as you tighten around him, clenching, pulsing, like your body needs him—like it doesn’t know how to let go.

jax groans. a sound from deep in his chest, like he’s unraveling too. “yeah?” he pants, lips ghosting your temple. “you gonna come for me, baby? make a mess all over my cock?”

you nod, tears slipping down your cheeks now—too far gone to be embarrassed, too full of him to care. he catches one with his thumb. presses a kiss to your wet cheek.

“that’s it,” he whispers. “i got you.”

his rhythm stutters. his jaw clenches.

“c’mon, baby. let me feel it. you know how good you are for me?”

you do. god, you do. you fall apart for him with a sob, hips jerking beneath his hands as he fucks you through it—soft, careful, deep—like he’s trying to fuck the love right into your bones.

you barely register it when he follows you—just the way his body tenses, the low groan in your ear, the warmth that fills you up inside.

then everything slows.

his weight settles on top of you, chest heaving.

you’re both breathless. quiet.

jax kisses your forehead. again. and again. and again.

“did so good, baby,” he murmurs, hand brushing your damp hair back. “i got you. let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

you nod into his chest, safe and small in his arms.

and he carries you to the shower like you weigh nothing.

an: thank you for requesting angel—i hope you enjoyed reading 💋💖

You had no passage of time. But knowing Steve, it had been at least an hour. Sixty minutes since your clothing fell to the floor and he began exploring every inch of you with his fingers, his lips, his sweet words.

He felt it. He felt everything. The scent of your perfume, the softness of your skin, the tiny creases in your forehead as his teeth grazed your shoulder. Every one of his senses was heightened. A side-effect of the serum and a sure-fire guarantee during alone time with you.

Increased sensitivity wasn’t torture during sex. For Steve, he savoured it. He enjoyed the feelings. He lived for the delayed gratification, the moment when finally, eventually, he felt he had worshipped you enough to deserve the feeling of your warmth around him.

He was hard. He had been for quite some time. You could feel his length pressing into your thigh. It was only when you whispered to him that he removed his boxers and tossed them to the floor.

“Steve. I need you. Please.”

“Okay honey.” His forearms were either side of you, his face above yours. “Keep your eyes on me.”

His blue eyes pulled you in, drawing you into a hypnotic calm. You watched his mouth subtly open and his eyelids flutter shut for a fleeting moment as the feeling of entering you washed over him. Within the beating of a butterfly’s wings, his eyes were back on yours. They remained there as he slowly thrusted, the intensity of his eye contact making your limbs go weak.

“Is it okay, honey? The pace?”

Yesterday, he had thrown an adversary from a roof. Last week he left a hole in the wall when he turned a corner at pace, chasing down a rogue agent, thrusting his shield into concrete and making it crumble like drywall. Shattering glass as he jumped through windows was a regular occurrence. He was durable. Sturdy. You weren’t. He used all of his concentration to use only a fraction of his strength on you. None, if possible. You were a civilian. He had to be gentle.

Dumbly, you nodded your response. The languid pace was perfect.

He continued to slowly rail you. He broke eye contact only to lean down and kiss your lips. He closed his eyes, the softness of your lips coaxing a moan from his. Whispers and sweet words replaced soft kisses, his voice low and raspy in your ear.

You’re so beautiful.

I love you so much, honey.

You feel so good.

He cycled through rounds of kisses, whispers and intense eye contact, his thrusting gratuitously slow. Indulgent, even. The deepest kisses gave you shivers. The ones where his tongue did the talking, where it felt as though he was attempting to kiss your soul. The whispers following these deep ministrations were simple.

I’m lost for words, honey. God.

It wasn’t about climax for either of you. Steve figured the longer it took to fall over the edge into bliss, the better. He wanted to draw it out. Make it last as long as possible. It was the same reason he ate slowly. Why it took him weeks to finish a book he loved. He didn’t want the pleasure to end. His life hadn’t always been filled with so much tenderness. Maybe that’s why he savoured it.

He couldn’t be selfish. It wasn’t in his DNA. The very moment he saw a flicker of frustration, a sense he was taking too long, his fingers would cease their faithful trail over your skin and inch their way down to your inner thigh, writing love letters in their wake as he reached your most sensitive spot. His fingers applied gentle pressure, slow circles, picking up his thrusting slightly, bringing you towards climax safely. Less like a freight train hurtling past an abandoned Midwest station. More like a passenger carriage coming to a gentle, rolling stop. If he thought about it too much, even he had to admit it was incredibly on-brand.

The soft moans from your lips and the way your mouth opened, your neck arching back into the pillow, your hands gripping fistfuls of Egyptian cotton.... the mere sight of your pleasure was enough to tip him over the edge. He would climax slowly, the pleasure coursing through his arteries like the serum did all those years ago. Your eyes were on him, watching him press upright onto his palms, arching backwards, the hard lines of his face softening into pleasure.

He bathed in the ecstasy. But he never allowed himself to become lost to it. He remained in control enough to lower himself down gently. He couldn’t afford to lose it and collide his body into yours. He could hurt you.

His face would nuzzle into your neck post-coital, sweet kisses peppering your shoulder as your hands tangled in his hair. He was soon back on his forearms, intense in his gaze, brow creased as he checked you were alright. His expression softened, the tense muscles in his jaw relaxing when he realised you were safe. Of course you were. You were underneath him. It was the safest place to be.

“That was… wow.”

He chuckled, cheeks flushing just slightly. He said the same thing every time but it never got old. He was here, fully present and absolutely entranced by you and unable to connect words together. He was articulate. He gave commands. You rendered him dumb-struck.

Aftershocks of his pleasure varied. Sometimes he would offer his hand and pull you up, inviting you into the shower with him. Other times you would stay just like that, kissing and starting up another round. Often you would remain wrapped in each other and fall into a brief slumber, napping for half an hour before a particularly loud truck honked its horn on the streets below and jolted you awake. In these moments, Steve rarely slept. He would lay awake, his arm around you as you snoozed on his chest. His hands ran through your hair. He smiled, his gaze soft and focusing on nothing in particular.

Today, you simply put your clothes back on and talked about food.

Steve looked towards the window. “I don’t know about you but I could really go for a hot dog.”

At a leisurely pace, you picked up the street food, glancing up at Steve’s apartment five floors up and wondering just how much was audible at street level. You walked around the local park hand-in-hand, connecting with an elderly couple sat together eating ice cream. They gave you a nod before their gaze returned to each other.

Steve felt a warm sensation in his chest. Some days, he wasn’t sure if he trusted the gifts he had been given. In his cloudier frames of mind, he imagined losing it all again and facing the prospect of processing immeasurable grief. Thankfully, those days were becoming passing storm clouds in an otherwise sunny disposition.