⋆｡𖦹° are you lucid? ⭒˚｡⋆

You whimper, you whine, you writhe.

It feels like a private moment he shouldn’t witness.

It’d be best to leave, ignoring your inner desires unfurling before his eyes in your unconscious state.

… Yet, he stays, freezing out of curiosity with a spark igniting within him.

You mumble his name, moan for more, mindlessly fall apart as you’re deep in slumber, shrouded in sin.

“Steve…” you whine, hips rolling up into the empty air; all the blankets have been kicked aside by now, baring your nearly nude figure to him. All that’s covering you is your underwear and his cardigan.

He should wake you up—

“It hurts…” your face twists in distress and need, one hand on your breast, the other snaking down between your thighs. “Need to feel you, please.”

Even in your sleep, the way you ask so desperately for his touch, voice sickeningly saccharine, it’s dizzying to Steve. It reminds him of the way you began to unravel after he fed off of you, right before you fainted.

God… the things he wanted to do to satisfy your own hunger before you fell unconscious… they were downright devious.

Unbeknownst to you, your legs spread, fingers clumsily diving under your waistband as a dark, wet spot spreads on the fabric. Steve’s ready to fall to his knees and worship your figure with his mouth— if only you were awake.

Your beautiful, fragile body, that he wants to protect, claim, and ruin all at once.

He’d have no problem waking you up in such a sinful way, but not before you’ve established your feelings and boundaries. Yet that doesn’t stop him from licking his lips, hand palming himself through his pants as he watches you struggle to satisfy your own needs.

… Would it be so wrong to talk you through it?

Yes, that’s fucked up, he thinks. What the hell’s wrong with you?

Slick sounds of your fingers failing to pleasure yourself echo throughout the room, while you moan his name again, body trembling against his sheets.

Steve caves and drops to his knees, crawling to the edge of the bed. His hand rests gently on your arm, the one toying with your chest lazily, hoping it’d bring you back into reality. Your skin is burning, just as it did when you lost yourself in the euphoric sensation as you offered your blood to him.

“Honey, I- I can help,” he’s almost embarrassed by the way his voice quivers, but your labored breaths and breathy whines shove the shame away. “Need you to wake up, though. Can you do that, angel? Wake up for me?”

You turn your head towards the sound of his voice, even more wound up. He’s turned on, sure, but the look of agony on your face as you can’t quite reach your sweet spot, hips canting up in search of a satisfying angle— leading you away from the ache is his main desire.

Steve caresses your cheek, melting at the way your distress lessens ever so slightly. He can’t leave you like this, it’s just too cruel.

“Poor thing, you’re all pent up, never got that release you deserved,” he coos, hand resting on your forehead— Christ,you’re burning up more and more as the seconds pass. “Come back to me, angel, let me take your pain away.”

The cool touch of his palm against your overheated skin calms you, directs you out of your dream-like state and towards his voice. That, combined with the ever-growing ache you can’t put to rest, is enough to flutter your eyes open.

You hum, puzzled as your vision slowly comes into focus. Eyes sweeping over your form, you realize the promiscuous position you’re in. You freeze in embarrassment when you glance over to the edge of the bed, where Steve is watching you with concern.

“O- oh—“ your hand slips out of your underwear, slick glistening on your fingers. You pant wildly, broken out into a sweat. Shame floods in full force now; you’re shocked you can even look him in the eye. “Steve? I- I’m sorry…”

He only shakes his head, gently grabbing the wrist of your soaked hand, pulling it closer to him. For a moment, he waits for your permission; even through a clouded mind, you’re able to understand what he’s silently asking for. So, you nod.

There’s something irresistibly arousing about the way Steve licks your fingers, fangs grazing your skin every so often. This has to be on purpose; he’s absolutely doing this with intention to rile you up, and it’s working.

A moan shudders out of you when he softly sucks on one finger, pupils blown wide with lust as the color of his irises turns pure, deep red.

“Fuck, you’re delicious.” Steve crawls up onto the bed, hovering over you. The way he stares at you makes you feel like prey, but it’s not frightening. Nothing about this scares you. He looks at you like he wants to claim you, not hurt you.

Nudging his nose against yours, your breath hitches, closing in as his breath ghosts along your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

You hesitate to answer, not because you don’t want this, you’re just in awe this is actually happening.

“I’m all yours, Steve.”

For a moment longer, Steve searches your eyes once more for a hint of doubt, locking his lips with yours after he finds nothing but a strong sense of craving.

The dream you were lost in was incredible, but this is perfect. Leisurely, his lips softly flow against your own, like time is of no concern— and really, right now, fuck time when too much has been wasted dancing around feelings.

You break out of the daze, eventually following his lead in wet, open-mouthed kisses, making a noise of contentment when his tongue teases along your bottom lip. He slots his thigh between your legs, adding pressure to your sensitive core. You jolt upward, gasping into the kiss as his fangs scrape your tongue. It stings, but it also soothes some of the fiery ache.

Tasting your blood, Steve groans roughly, lapping at your tongue with his. It’s strange, at first, when he begins sucking on your tongue, but it feels so fucking good. The bleeding subsides as he heals the scrapes with his kiss.

You push him back, only enough to look him in the eye. Barely catching your breath, you pant, “Can you— will you—“ your eyes scrunch shut, feeling foolish for asking, but your lust is stronger. “Need you…” you glide a finger along your neck, where puncture wounds would lay had he not healed them. “Here. Please?”

“Angel… you’ve barely recovered—“

“This won’t go away ‘til you do something about it, will it?” Your eyes shine with tears, ready to tumble into distress at a moment’s notice. Cautiously, yet truthfully, he shakes his head. “Hurts so bad.” When you flex your hips up against his, he stutters a breath out, eyes rolling back at the brief and faint friction.

“I know, but I can’t have you fainting again.”

“I need you more than anything right now,” you pathetically admit, fingers curling into his shirt with a tight grip. “… Would it hurt like last time?”

He hesitates to answer, searching your gaze for any sign of blood lust compromising your free will. There’s always been a certain longing within you he could pick up, and it’s still clear as day to see in your eyes. Now that longing has accelerated into something more intense, a fiery passion that only burns brighter the longer this is dragged out.

The brighter it burns, the hotter it gets, and all that’ll cool you down into a calm state is Steve’s touch.

“… Not if we keep going. It hurt last time because we stopped. That was my fault.”

“S’okay.” You gulp down a whimper, nodding frantically. “Don’t stop this time.”

Steve slips an arm around and under your waist, while his free hand moves to gently cradle the back of your head, pulling you into him.

“Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he murmurs against your neck, tongue flitting out to the sensitive curve of your neck, sloping closer down to your shoulder. You nod breathlessly, but that’s not enough. “No, angel. I need to hear you say it if you mean it.”

The gentle command earns another whimper from you. “I- I promise, Steve.”

“Promise what?” He sucks softly along your collarbone, retracing back to your neck, lulling you into a heady daze. His fangs graze your skin, and you gasp sharply. “Hm?”

“Promise that… that I…” How the hell does he expect you to focus on words right now? Reminding yourself it can’t continue without your consent, you manage through slurred speech, “I promise I’ll t- tell you to stop f’it’s t’much.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises, fangs scraping along the surface of your neck, on the edge of fully plunging in. “My smart, brave, beautiful girl.”

The praise would go to your head if he didn’t sink his fangs in immediately after. Your body seizes up, and he pulls back, just enough to speak softly. “Relax, angel. Relax for me… I’ve got you.”

Steve dives back into your neck, and just like the first time, the pain subsides into pleasure. Only this round, the intensity of the heat flowing through your veins never fades, just turns into an… enjoyable ache. The sounds of his lips suctioned onto you, siphoning your blood slowly, it only arouses you further.

When your clit throbs, it’s intense enough that Steve can feel it against his leg, still between your thighs. Satisfied with the way you’re unraveling underneath him, he hums, vibrations soothing any lingering ache from the wound.

His touch travels down to your chest, grazing over your bra, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You arch into his hand as it cups your breast, breaths transforming into whines as they slip from your lips.

Your fingers run through his hair, pausing mid-way in a tangled mess to tug. Mouth still on your neck, the noise he makes is muffled, but it’s still such a gorgeous, groaning sound.

The longer Steve feeds, the deeper you sink into that indulgent bliss you’ve been lucky enough to feel once before. He sucks softly, slowly, pain non-existent by now. There’s no chance to ask for more as desire takes control; he’s already one step ahead of you, reaching around your back to unhook your bra. It’s a bit awkward, still on you since his sweater is still slung over your arms, but there’s enough room to touch you the way he wants, the way he needs.

Ice cold fingers slide under the fabric, softly circling your sensitive nub. Between this and the way he’s feeding, you’re convinced you could finish from this alone. His other arm is still wound around your waist, holding you in place as you begin to squirm.

Pulling back, Steve laps at the mess of blood around the wound, careful not to lick directly over them and heal them too soon. “How are you feeling, angel?”

“S’good,” you reply, dazed. He kisses up to your jaw, nipping playfully at your skin while leaving behind kiss prints in blood. It’s short-lived as he returns back to the fresh wound, not wanting to pause like last time and send you plummeting into pain.

When he sinks his fangs back into your neck, you moan loudly, rolling your hips up into him. “Need you, need you, need you,” you chant with desperation, feeling his smirk burn into your skin.

Again, he eases off of you, just enough to speak. “Yeah? How much?”

You gasp as he grinds down into you, bulge giving just a preview of how big he must be.

“S- so much, Steve.”

“And just where do you need me?”

“In me, need y- you in me,” you babble while his hand runs down your body, fingers lingering above your waistband. “Please, please, please, I’m- I can’t—“

“Shh, patience, angel.” He slips his fingers under the elastic, inching closer to your core. “I plan on taking my time with you. Every inch of you is mine, right?”

“Yours,” you whimper, flexing your hips up only to be pinned down with his legs, straddled on either side of you now. “I’m yours, all yours.” Pleas and lust-drunk demands continue to tumble from your lips, “Touch me, fuck me, do something—”

While Steve suckles your neck, blood drips down his chin and onto you, but you don’t seem to mind. One finger easily slides down your slick folds, brushing against your clit, earning one of your precious, sinful sounds. He gives one last intense pull of blood before releasing your neck from his fangs. As he lovingly licks over your wounds, your moans grow louder.

“You’re— all of you’s’mine?” You slur out, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit with the finger still toying with you.

Steve chuckles against your neck, giving a few more flits of his tongue to close up the wound, sealing off the intense passion in your veins. There’s a new kind of pleasure burning within you, something so intense that you’ve never felt before. Something that makes you feel drunk off of lust and love.

Love? Oh, no. No, that can’t be right.

“I’m yours, angel,” he confirms, slipping his finger into you, groaning at your tight entrance. Leaning above you, droplets of your blood on his lips shimmer under the candlelight. “All yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

God, he’s so gorgeous.

Panting, you sit up and take him by surprise as you kiss some of the blood away, licking it up onto your tongue. You kiss him, blood mingling with saliva as he’s left to whimper into your mouth. This is gross; you’d never do something like this, but with Steve, you can’t seem to control yourself.

All the while, he’s slowly pumping his finger in and out of you, curling it in search of your sweet spot.

Steve pulls back, breathless. “No one’s ever done that before.” He checks your face for signs of weakness, afraid you’ve fallen ill. “You’re feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” you continue to pant, “needed to taste it. Wish I could taste you.”

Christ, you’re gone, and Steve is a fucking sucker for how compliant you are. He’s never been one to take advantage of someone in this state, but he’ll give into any desire you have if it means giving you the release you crave.

You writhe, grinding down onto his finger, gasping as he adds another.

He watches you in awe, admires the glow of need on your skin, the sheen of sweat shimmering in the light, the smudges of blood on your lips— your blood. You throw your head back, shuddering out another sinful moan.

“So tight, angel… dunno if I’ll be able to fit—“

“Th- then make yourself fit,” you cut him off, collapsing back against the pillows while you clench around his fingers. “Oh, god, I’m close…”

Steve’s pace quickens, fingers gliding with your slick, pumping harder with each thrust. You don’t get a chance to cry out before you’re reaching your high, gushing all over his hand.

“That’s it, come for me,” he guides you through with praise. “So good for me.”

You sit up, grabbing his face to kiss him roughly as another wave crashes over you. Barely through your first climax, a second one drives you to reach for Steve, use him as an anchor to reality. Your body jolts as he kisses you back, savoring your sweet, muffled cries.

“We didn’t even get to the good part yet,” he teases.

“I… I didn’t know that… I’m…” You shudder a moan out watching Steve slip his fingers out of you, and between his lips. He groans again, eyes rolling back while he savors your essence. You, on the other hand, feel empty now that his hand pulled away.

“It’s okay, angel. I’ve got you.” He curls around your side, leading you into his arms. Weariness settles into your being, floating down from the high so gracefully. The chill of his skin is welcoming to you this time, but you notice he’s not as cold. “Never came twice in a row like that before?”

“N- no,” you rasp against his shoulder, so content you don’t have to restrain yourself; the urges to stay close to him can finally be fulfilled without guilt. “S’that normal for the… all this?”

“It’s different for everyone,” he shrugs, kissing the top of your head. “One partner I had ages ago would have climaxes that’d last ten minutes, at least.”

You snap your head up to him. “They what?”

“Yeah… wasn’t very fun overall.”

There’s no focus on Steve’s words when it instead, latches onto the sight of your blood, still fresh on his lips.

He notices, “Angel… everything alright?”

The urge to clean his lips of your blood again returns, holding you hostage in a trance. It’s disgusting, you know it is, and if it were on anyone else’s lips, the thought to kiss it away would never cross your mind.

Lines aren’t blurred with Steve, rather tangled and crossed in knots impossible to loosen. Nothing about this— Steve, your relationship and devotion to one another, the spell of unbridled lust consuming you— is normal, or natural.

He opens his mouth, probably to ask again, but there’s no room for question when you crash your lips against his. The sigh he releases breathes energy back into you, giving you the push to take over. Pushing Steve onto his back, you roll on top of him, admiring the stunned expression he bears.

Passion burns scalding hot in your veins, begging your body for more. You're quick to finally ditch your bra and strip and his sweater off your form, allowing him to admire you on a level he could only dream of before this.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, gasping as you grip his wrists, pinning them above his head. Realistically, he has the strength to overpower you, it's practically child’s play to him, but he’s more than willing to let you play pretend.

It’s the switch in demeanor that matters most, and he’s instantly pliant underneath you, ready to be molded into whatever form of submission you desire. When you roll your hips, painfully slow, your core drags along his clothed bulge, soaking the fabric on contact.

“Not fair,” you huff, releasing his hands to toy with the buttons of his shirt. “Need this off.”

Steve rushes to undo the rest of the buttons, while you slip down his body to undo his pants. He’s eventually left in his underwear, allowing you to really drink in his figure.

Gorgeous.

“You’re so— wait…” whatever compliment you had falls away, distracted by the feel of his cool skin against your palms. You slide your hands up his stomach, onto his chest, noticing that chill fade away, little by little. “… Why aren’t you super cold?”

Blushing, Steve stammers, “Because I- you— it—“ your fingers drag through his chest hair, skin pebbling underneath from your feather-light touch. “Happens when I’m… when I…” his focus veers off, entranced with the view of you from above; the shape of you, the tiny smirk that holds a flicker of wickedness, something he only hoped to see the moment he sensed it was buried deep within you.

Leaning down, you settle yourself on top of him, grinding only once to rile him up.  Your voice gently coaxes him, “C’mon, sweetheart, you can tell me.”

Sweetheart.

Since when do you call anyone that?

The passion that’s running rampant within you can’t be quelled, not until you’re fully satisfied. It’s taken full control; not that this feeling isn’t yours, it’s just boldly coming to life in a way you least expected it. Steve knows this, yet can’t believe the reality before him isn’t his imagination conjuring up some sort of immersive wet dream.

Steve moans, voice shattering into desperation when one hand of yours slides between the two of you, palming him through the only barrier of fabric left. On contact, he bucks against your hand, whining while you trail kisses down his jaw and neck.

“It’s a—“ he gasps sharply when you stroke him lazily, giving a gentle, loving squeeze every so often. “Christ, I’m going to—“

You nip at his neck, nowhere near as intense as how he bites you, void of any threat, but it’s enough to hear and feel the throaty groan find its way to the surface.

Shivering when your lips latch down, sucking on a sensitive spot, he attempts to answer again, “It- it’s a vampire thing.”

Breaking the moment, you snort into his shoulder. “No shit, Steve.” Sitting up, you pull your hands back with you, grinning devilishly down at him. He pants, whines, running a hand through his hair with a pained expression.

“Fine, fine—“ Steve drags his hands over his face, covering the embarrassment building underneath. “Vampires can… run hot… when we’re, you know, aroused.”

Your smirk only grows, watching as his cheeks redden— there's something strange watching his pale skin gain some color before your eyes.

“So, you’re saying that being horny makes you literally hot.”

“The mouth on you sometimes…” he shakes his head, laughing as his hands fall away, fangs bared in all their glory.  Noticing how you fixate on his mouth, he gives a quick, puzzled laugh. “What?”

“I’m glad you don’t hide your smile around me anymore,” you answer honestly, relishing in the blush that lingers along his face. “It’s pretty.”

A laugh echoes out again, and it’s a little less graceful than those prior, but something about the imperfection, the way he squints and snorts a little, it’s endearing. It’s like he’s still human underneath the layers of complexities, lore, and changed body chemistry.

Playfully, he scoffs, “Pretty?”

You give an affirmative hum. “Everything about you is.”

Steve’s smile settles down, more into something of disbelief. “I truly don’t frighten you? I thought that was one of the reasons why you left to begin with.”

“God, no. I’m so sorry.” You kiss his lips, and it’s sweet, chaste. “Told you,” your hand slides up his chest, fingers splaying out as you gently push him back against the pillows. “It’s not you I’m afraid of, Steve.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“Love.”

It slips before you can catch it, keep the secret and take it to your grave, but it’s painfully easy to be honest around Steve. Naturally, the answer surfaced without struggle.

Ignoring the playful switch exchange, Steve sits up, holding you in his lap to keep steady. "What did you just say?"

Fear of rejection begins to sink into your bones, already rooted deep in your heart all your life, ready to bloom at your most exposed moments. Your heart pounds, wishing you could take it back.

All you can do is stutter, "I- I—" 

Steve rests his hand on your chest over your heart, eyes locking with yours. The panicked thumping etches worry lines into his porcelain smooth skin. "You weren't joking." 

You can only shake your head, choking back tears, afraid to speak and give your feelings away. Really, what could you say? 

Hey, sorry for that totally uncalled for confession, that was really dumb of me to say. We've only known each other a few months now, so I'm probably just talking out of my—

"Hey, breathe, breathe…" His soothing tone brings you back down to earth. Gingerly, he holds your face in both large hands, grounding you. There's still a contrast in temperature, though not as drastic, the chill is still welcomed against your overheated skin. "Angel, look at me, please."

You knew once you'd open your eyes, tears would slip out; shaking your head against his grip, your eyes stay scrunched shut.

"Love scares me too," he admits. "But falling for you has been easy."

Did I hear him correctly?

"Wh… what?" Though still guarded, cautious, you slowly open your eyes, adrenaline disintegrating in your veins. "You? Scared?"

There's nothing but adoration written all over Steve's face. For you.

"The night I told you the truth, you asked why I was scared." The pads of his thumbs sweep along your cheek bones, catching stray tears as they slip down your face.

His eyes are aren't the usual patchwork of greens and golden browns and coppery red, but they're not the shade of deep crimson they were earlier, either. The irises are dripping with a serene rust shade, with flecks of gold throughout.

Focus. Quit letting your mind wander. 

"You mean right before Eddie barged in?" 

Steve barks out a laugh, head lolling back while shaking against you. It curls your own smile to life. "Yes. He's good at that, you know. Bad timing, and whatnot."

You're paying attention, really, truly, you are… but you lean into the palm of his hand; something about his touch offers so much security and heart.

"I started to say I was afraid, because you're special to me, and I didn't want to fuck this all up," he admits, shoulders sagging. "Then I did, and—"

You clasp your hand over his mouth, shaking your head; it's so reminiscent of the night he opened up about his past, feeling like deja-vu.

"You did not. That was all me. Everything happened so fast that night, I freaked out. I- I kept thinking you'd be so disappointed if you really got to know me, beyond just being coworkers and friends."

"Disappointed?" Steve's perplexed. "By being yourself?"

Your gaze wanders away, having said too much, but Steve's hand slips under your chin, gently bringing you back to face him. 

"You could never disappoint me, certainly not by being true to yourself." 

A weight begs to lift from your chest, yet you grasp onto it for security's sake; can't get hurt if you don't let your guard down.

"Someone's thinking too loudly." The proclamation startles you out of the fog of self depreciation. 

"Hang on," you lean back, palms on his shoulders to extend the space between you, offering skepticism in your expression. "Can you read minds, too?"

"No, you're just incredibly easy to read," Steve chuckles, eyes crinkling closed with amusement. "Even if I were still human, it'd be easy to tell what's on your mind."

"Wh— I am not easy to read!"

"No?" His tone carries a taunting weight, moving your hands aside to bring you close again. "You mean to tell me you weren't just panicking about allowing your guard to fall?"

Playfully, you sneer, "Get out of my head. What the fuck?"

"Not until you let me quiet those thoughts first, angel." Steve kisses your cheek, trailing to your neck while his hands run up your thighs. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you to drag your clothed heat against his. "Would you still like to know what happened that night? When I fed off of you?"

A gasp cuts in front of your response, only managing to nod frantically. His tongue drags along your skin, teeth nipping at your ear as he chuckles gravelly, satiated with the way you squirm in his grip.

"Would you let me show you what would've happened if we kept going?" 

Arousal slicks between your legs, adding to the stickiness of friction between your bodies. One hand splays along your spine, sliding up to hold you close, your chest against his. The other finds its way to your chest, caressing the curve before kneading your breast tenderly. 

Each gasp, each tiny sound you make as you try holding back how easily you're falling apart from his touch alone, tug at the corners of his smirk as he works you like putty.

"Would that finally prove I'm truly falling for you?" Your eyes flutter open as you feel his whispers against your lips. "Would that be enough?"

"You—" he pinches and tweaks lazily at your nipple, throwing you off focus. "Y- you're already enough, Steve."

"Enough for you?"

"More than enough."

"Then let me take over for now, and you don't have to worry about a damn thing, angel."

It's something sinful, the way he caresses your form while guiding you to grind on him. Back and forth in a languid pace, stretching out tension until it's thin enough to finally snap.

You pick up the rhythm, hold it steady as he praises so sweetly in your ear, "That's it… just like that." He leans in to kiss you, eager to coax your lips open with a tease of his tongue, swallowing your whimpers. You lick a little too far, scraping the tip of your tongue on a fang; the gasp that spills out is immediately muffled, and the pain subsides in a second.

Steve pulls back, chuckling against your lips, "Careful, angel, don't want to get hurt."

"What if I want it to hurt?"

Goddammit. Can't keep my fucking mouth shut.

His breath hitches in a strangled gasp and halts your hips in his grasp, resting his forehead against yours as he regains composure.

"Not for our first time, alright?" He kisses your cheek delicately. "But I'll… I'll remember that for another time, hm?"

You wriggle your hips against his palms, whining until he grabs your face, fingers squishing into your cheeks. It's not hard, just firm enough to regain your attention.

"Okay, okay," you huff, growing needier by the second. "Not for our first time."

Steve leans down to your ear, assisting your hips to roll against his again, praising silkily, "That's my girl." His whispers tingle along the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. Kissing down your neck, he pauses at the spot you seem to favor for him to feed. He asks between kisses, "How do you feel right now?" 

Running a hand through his hair, you gently pull him off of you, earning a throaty groan. It was only to get him to pause, you swear.

Except that reaction caught you off guard. "Oh… you like that?" A smirk begins drawing up on your face, and he narrows his stare at you. 

"Angel, play nice."

The warning tempts you to do the opposite, coil tightening low in your tummy. You don't want to push it though, not in such a sacred first moment together.

Releasing his hair, you murmur, "Sorry."

Steve's over-affectionate with the gentle, chaste kisses, but with him, you don't mind. He adds to the countless, ever-growing number of kisses, lips lingering on your cheek.

"Nothing to be sor—" He leans back and pauses with a furrowed brow, searching your stare. "You apologize far too often."

"Bad habit, I guess," you mutter, shrugging. You can unpack that another time. Before he can get too sappy, you ask outright, "Are you gonna bite me again?"

Chuckling, Steve nudges his nose against yours, "Only if you're okay with that. Don't wanna push you too much in one night."

Surging forward with hunger, you lock your lips with his. There's no chance for it to become to heated when you break apart, murmuring against his lips, "I'll be good, I swear."

His head lolls back with a groan rumbling out, exhaling shakily, "Oh fuck." He didn't even ask. Steve didn't ask— but here you are, pliant and needy and willing; he'd be a fool to deny any of your desires right now.

Maybe underneath it all, Steve's really the submissive one, not you.

… He can worry about that later.

Sliding a hand down between your bodies, his fingers slip over the fabric of your panties, sliding them aside to tease your clit. You jolt and squirm, but Steve's hold on you is strong.

"If you need me to stop and can't say it," he kisses up your neck, fingers painting your slick up and down your core. "You'll tap me, anywhere, just once. I'll stop immediately."

"O- okay." Your hips buck against his touch, stilled just at the edge of your entrance. He kisses up to the spot that ruins you, the one you seem to— so far— like being fed from the most.

Fangs sinking into your soft skin, he plunges two fingers into you, earning a cry he'd never expect to hear from you. It's not pained, not in the physical sense, but you are aching for more.

As if getting blood sucked out of you while being finger fucked isn't enough.

"Steve, Jesus Christ…" Your whimper makes him hum smugly against your neck. He becomes wrapped up in your taste, fingers slowing to a pace much too tame for the passion you're lost in. 

Drawing back, he laps up the blood dripping from your neck. "So good, such a good girl," he praises in a silky, low tone. "Taste so sweet, too."

You begin fucking yourself against his fingers, desperate for him to reach that spot that causes you to see stars. Strength in his grasp digs into your hip, pressing hard enough, you're certain you'll feel it tomorrow.

"Don't ruin it for yourself, angel." He curls his fingers, toying with that spot each time he pumps into you. The heel of his palm presses firmly against your clit while he sinks his fangs into your neck again. "You'll take what I give you. Understand?"

Panting, you still your hips, twitching as you struggle with self control. "Ye- yeah, mhm, I—" A lewd, raw moan cuts you off, one of your own. 

This is still too slow, far too slow; he knows what he's doing, fully aware of how dizzying and intoxicating it is offer your blood to a creature like himself.

After all, Steve was human once, too.

There's not much of his mortal life he's able to recall, or who exactly turned him under what circumstances, but giving yourself up to a being that could break you instantly is a thrill all in its own.

He kisses your wounds, tongue flitting out to soothe over the broken skin, healing them on the spot once more. When you whine, he assures you, "Shhh… I want to try something else. Do you trust me?"

There's no chance to answer before he swiftly withdraws his touch; the bliss begins to fade, leaving you in a fucked out, unfinished state.

"What… why'd you do that?" You pant as he lays back with a smirk. Locking eyes with you, he wraps his lips around the finger once inside you, sucking the slick right off. He groans, hips bucking up underneath you, clothed cock rubbing against your core. It breaks you, with some sort of desperate, needy noise tumbling from your lips.

Steve uses his free hand to beckon you closer, curling his index finger towards himself. The finger on the other hand slips out, reaching out for you.

You're still lost in an unsatisfied daze. "Huh?"

"Come closer," he orders so sweetly, there's no way you could say no— not like you even want to say no anyway.

You inch closer over his chest, legs straddling either side, but self doubt refuses to let yourself sit completely.

Steve shakes his head, licking his lips. "Closer."

The daze breaks, and it clicks. "You… oh. Are you… are you sure?"

"Wouldn't be asking if I was unsure," his hands find purchase on your hips again, tugging you closer to his face. 

Hesitant, you bite your lip, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and inching toward him.

Riding a partner's face wasn't necessarily new to you, it's just never been… enjoyable. Always an "in theory, not in practice" sort of act. Yet, with Steve, though nervous, your panties stick to your slick, sticky heat.

Straddling his face, he murmurs into your thigh before kissing it, "Good girl."

You grip onto the headboard of the bed, glancing down as you hold yourself up above his face, still worried to allow yourself onto him. He continues planting kisses up your thigh, fingers hooking underneath your waistband, snapping it with ease. The elastic breaks, and he tosses the fabric aside, leaving your core exposed. His breath fans out over your slit, dripping with arousal.

"Steve!" You gasp. "I liked that pair!"

"I'll buy you more," he rasps out, pressing a delicate kiss to your heat. "Promise." 

There's no time to retort when he hooks his arms around your legs, forcing you to sit against his smug expression. 

"Oh, fuck…" you pant out, forming into an incoherent whine as his tongue delves between your folds. Thighs clenching around his head, you gasp when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

One hand presses flat against your back, holding you steady as the trembling already begins. The other kneads at the soft curve of your hip, guiding you to grind on his tongue. You find a leg-trembling pace, one that has his deep red eyes rolling back underneath you.

Steve skillfully laps and flits at your clit with an intensity you've never experienced before. Not even from your own vibrator. No, this has to be from his heightened… abilities. You're sure of it. No human has ever brought you this close to the edge this quickly.

Fingers carding through his hair, you give a healthy tug, causing him to grunt and accidentally scrape a fang along the outer edge of your folds. You yelp at the sting, melting instantly as his tongue rolls over the laceration, healing it within seconds.

"Sorry," he rasps out, pulling away while glancing up in daze. A blush creeps up his face, just on the little bit you can see, as he presses a kiss to your core, soft and gentle. You shiver, feeling your clit pulsate. "You okay?"

"Ye- yeah, m'okay," you rush out, head bobbling ardently. "Don't stop, don't—"

A long, torturous drag of his tongue up your slit steals your plea, replaced with a frantic chant of his name, thighs tensing up around his face.

The arm around your leg returns, finding your core to slide a finger in while laving at your clit. It throbs against his tongue, and he moans. Like, fully, deeply moans, vibrating against your sensitive nub.

Your head falls back with a cry of pleasure, rolling onto one shoulder. Something in the corner of your eye catches your attention; even through your stare weighed down by lust, it's still obvious how hard he is.

Steve's so turned on, he's fucking the thin, empty air surrounding him. In the midst of this sinful whirlwind, he must’ve pulled himself free from the last of his clothing, and… jesus fucking christ— You can't just leave him neglected like this.

Panting heavily, you lick your lips, attempting to twist just enough to the left, reaching behind you. His cock is stiff, leaking at the ruddy tip, swollen with need. Your fingers stretch out, just within reach of touching him, when he grabs your arm, pinning it behind your back. 

The noise of displeasure you make is overcast by a betraying moan; he continues lapping between your folds, grip strong on your restrained wrist.

You twist yourself to the right, attempting to stretch again with your free hand; Steve moves swiftly, leaving you empty as his other hand grabs and pins your right arm behind you. Some slick from your arousal brushes off his finger, spreading against your skin.

"Ugh—" You struggle against his hold, but he, effortlessly with strength as always, keeps a steady grip. "Why can't I touch you?"

Steve doesn't answer— not with words, at least. He spells it out with his tongue, coaxing you to the edge while flitting it against your clit, practically making out with your heat. The growl he emits vibrates into you, sending shivers up your spine and urging you to grind down to finish off strong.

Your back arches as your head falls back, chest heaving as something starts to crack within you, giving way to something sinfully delicious.

"F- fuck, Steve," you breathe, eyes rolling back. Frantically, your fingers search for his grip as he still restrains you. He hooks one of his digits within yours; a little sign of intimate connection that only strengthens the closer you gravitate to one another.

And, fuck, you're not sure if there's anything closer than this, but your body sure craves it.

Trembling, your hips jerk as you fully break, crying out while your walls constrict around nothing, aching to flutter around him. You soak his face with a weak sob, thighs clenching around his head, something he groans lowly about in satisfaction.

Steve doesn't relent, not until you're slumping forward, face inches from hitting the headboard. He releases your arms, moving in record time to plant his palms on your torso, pushing you upright.

If you weren't so winded and dazed from the post-orgasm bliss, you'd still blink and miss how exactly he catches you, cautious in guiding you off to the side while he leans over you, checking in.

"Felt s'good," you slur, hands weakly reaching out for him, trying to pull him closer. "Need you."

His lips curl upward while he cups your cheek, whispering, "I'm right here, angel."

You shake your head, pouting. "Need you in me." 

It's visible how restraining himself physically pains Steve, how difficult it is to respond with caution. "I… I think you need to rest."

When you shake your head, he laughs softly, palm uncharacteristically warm on your skin, his own desires keeping a flame lit within. It's starting to sting, flames licking up the walls of his heart, pumping his blood into temperatures he hasn't felt in…. in years.

The last time he felt this alive was when he was still human. 

That lively fire… it's because of you, and god, does he yearn to be even a sliver akin to something mundane again. This would be so much easier, for you both.

But as you stare up at him, silently begging to intertwine into one another, he knows now you've accepted him, down to even the darkest truths. You weren't running from him, you were running from yourself, from your own feelings, afraid to trust your heart with someone you admire despite such an unholy difference between your lives.

Steve wants nothing more than to say it, because that's what he feels most for you, encompassing every minuscule thought and feeling surrounding you, this relationship, everything so far this summer— he feels it, feels it run so deeply through his cold veins.

He hasn't felt sunshine on his skin in quite some time, the joy of that warmth burrowing past the surface into his bones, but your presence certainly comes close. Your smile, your little mundane quirks he's lost to transformation and time, the fragility your life carries— every inch of your human self he only wants to protect, adore, and worship.

Perhaps confirming those feelings aloud were too risky, plunging him into a vulnerability he's not quite ready to navigate yet.

That doesn't mean he can't spell it out through his actions. After all, falling for you truly has been easy to him. Terrifying, but effortless.

Climbing on top of you, Steve tenderly parts your thighs, smirking as you whimper. "Are you sure?"

Though spent, you eagerly nod, pushing your legs apart a little further. One hand toys with your breast lazily, the other trailing down to your core. Steve grabs each hand, pinning them down to the mattress beside your head. 

"I'll take good care of you," he leans close, whispers against your lips. "Promise."

Releasing your hands, he sits up, stroking himself with breathy groans as he greedily takes the sight of you in. He guides the tip against your clit, dragging it down to your entrance when you sit up suddenly. 

Palm flat on his chest, you rush out, "Wait!"

Concern weaves its way back onto Steve's expression again. "What? What happened? Are you—"

"Condoms are in my bag," you point to the far side of his room, where some of your belongings lay in a heap. 

He breaks into a grin, amusedly assuring, "We don't need—"

"Oh, yes, we do," you chuckle, though firm in your serious stance. You cross your arms, narrowing your stare at him. "I don't need to get pregnant and die having some kind of vampire-human hybrid baby."

Steve's lips press together, trying to restrain a taunting laugh. "You… you mean a dhampir?"

You snap your fingers and point at him, thrilled he filled in the blank for you. "Yeah! Yeah, that. No fucking thanks." Then you add sheepishly, "No offense."

"Angel, I wouldn't ever—" His demeanor begins to slip into something serious, but rebounds at the realization, "How do you know about dhampirs?"

Puffing your cheeks out, embarrassment creeps hotly under your skin as you exhale. "Uh… research? … Y'know, after you told me your secret… found out way more than I bargained for, that's for sure."

Expression falling flat, Steve reaches his arm out toward your bag, refusing to break eye contact as it flies swiftly into his hand. He grips it instantly, smirking again when your jaw drops.

"Are you serious?" He forfeits the bag. You rummage through it, finding the foil packet and chucking your bag back to the floor. "You can do cool shit like that, too?!"

Steve's trying, really, he's trying so hard to hold himself together, to not burst into lighthearted chuckles over your awestruck state. "That, and a bit more." He plucks the packet from your fingers, tearing it open with ease on one fang. Your eyes are wide with wonder, and the laughter tumbles out of him. "You are far too easy to impress."

Scoffing, you swipe the condom out of his grasp, rolling it over his length. A breathy whine falls away from his parted lips, earning your satisfied smirk. "Yeah, well…" leaning back, you cant your hips just right for easy access. Steve takes the hint, rutting his cock between your folds teasingly. "N- never had a vampire boyfriend before, so…"

The head of his cock is caught at your entrance while he pauses, breath hitching. "Boyfriend?"

You nod, "Mhm—" Steve begins to sink himself into you. Gasping, you take the stretch of every inch. "— oh, fuck."

He's got one hand sliding up your thigh, caressing on it's way to your hip. Your legs lift and bend a bit, allowing him in a little more. 

"You really want— ah!" He bottoms out in you, completely buried to the hilt. You cry out, grasping his forearms. Panting, he leans over you, hands planted on either side. "You'd really w- want that?" He sucks in a sharp breath, "Fuck, you're tight."

"More than anything." You shudder out a sigh, clenching around him while he patiently, yet painfully, waits for you to adjust. "Steve, move, please—"

"Doesn't hurt, does it?" He asks as you tense up. Cupping your face, he orders, "Angel, look at me."

Through bleary eyes, you do. "Ju- just s'full."

Steve kisses your neck with a breathy laugh. "I know, sweetheart. A lot to take, hm?" His kisses trail down to the swell of your breast, fangs grazing along your soft skin. "Want to taste you again… please?"

"Yeah, ye- yes," you sigh, one arm slinking around his back. Your free hand cards through his hair, softly pushing him closer by the back of his head. 

His thumb flicks lazily over your nipple, hand cupping your breast, massaging it softly. His lips wrap around the pebbled skin closest to him, giving soft, open-mouth kisses, teeth tickling your supple flesh.

Steve only sucks, tongue flicking at your nipple, waiting for your permission. All the while, he's dragging himself in and out of you, in no hurry to reach his peak. 

"Need you, Steve," you gasp, pushing his face into you again. A muffled groan rumbles against your chest. His fangs catch, slowly sinking into your breast. "A- ah… oh my god…"

Blood flowing freely, he feeds greedily, sucking down every drop. The arm on that same side winds around your hips, holding you steadily as you squirm. His other hand abandons your breast to care for your neglected clit, but the sensation remains; pinching, squeezing, flicking, caressing— it all continues as a ghost of his touch.

Vampires are full of surprises.

It doesn't take much, incredibly sensitive from multiple highs and his feeding, bringing you seconds away to a trembling crescendo. Clenching and fluttering around him, your legs tighten around his waist, tugging your bare selves flush against one another. 

"M'gonna… I'm— fuck!" You babble his name in a desperate plea for more. Of what, you're unsure, but you need more of him. You're infatuated, obsessed, and can't think straight.

"Right here, angel, m'right here," he mumbles against your breast, pace on your clit never letting up. He continues to feed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth when he affirms, "I've got you. Let go."

Let go, you do, but not without allowing your feral side to thrive.

Roughly, you grab Steve by his hair, dragging him off your skin to kiss him with reckless abandon. Moaning into him, you realize he still has a mouthful of your blood, and god, this shouldn't turn you on. At. All. But sharing what keeps you both alive is morbidly romantic, erotic for all the wrong reasons— and you love it.

Steve's tongue flicks against yours, massaging the metallic tang of your blood against your taste buds. You feel dizzy, you feel alert, you feel wild. The two of you are insane. Absolutely fucking insane.

Love makes you do crazy, stupid shit, but you didn't think it could turn into something like this.

Sucking softly on your tongue, Steve manages to feed off the remainder of blood. He breaks the kiss, murmuring huskily, "Don't swallow that. You'll get ill."

You laugh while flashing your dull, human teeth up at him with a red tint, matching the messy swipes and smearing of it across your lips. 

"S'my blood, I'll be fine." You know that's not how that works. He knows you know. You're not here to play it safe.

Unless, it revolves around getting pregnant by a vampire, in which case, yeah, you'll stay safe on that without complaint.

"Spit," you whimper, tongue lolling out beneath him. 

Steve should think twice, doesn't think at all, only listens. When the crimson tinged saliva hits your eager tongue, you release such a filthy, pornographic moan, it causes him to climax immediately.

He whimpers your name, strong arms winding around your frame to cradle you close. Your lips are back on his, moving with urgency to add to his peak of pleasure. Hips stuttering wildly, he pulsates and throbs inside you, wishing he could fill you to the brim, completely claim you, forever.

For now, it'll do. Something like forever is ultimately for you to decide, though, and he respects that. He's just grateful you have one another in the here and now.

Steve's strong embrace keeps you flush against him, even after he comes down from his high. The two of you are left panting, traces of blood on your faces. You shower one another in tender kisses and sweet whispers of praise, and eventually, his skin cools down while he softens inside you. 

Breathless, your head collapses back onto the down pillows, sinking slowly. Steve gives you a bit of breathing room, but certainly doesn't go far. He's propped up on his elbow, leaning over you with that fond, gentle smile you love so dearly. He caresses your face, lightly panting along with you.

"You woulda' done all of that because I gave you my blood?" There's curiosity that lies behind your teasing.

Steve's face falls, but not into anything dismal or of concern. No, this held something deeper, sincere. His hand stills, holding your face so gingerly, red eyes fading into something calmer, but refusing to leave your stare.

Your heart's ablaze with admiration. If only you knew months ago how this once unattainable, forbidden crush would blossom into such deep, delicate feelings for him.

And as if he hasn’t won your heart over already, he answers earnestly: "Angel, I would give you the whole world if you'd let me."

The first month together with Steve is nothing short of blissful— in a creepy, bizarre sort of way, of course. But it works. 

Finding someone who understands you on that level, who you work with so well— literally and romantically— it's what you've always desired in a partner. You were just never lucky enough to find someone willing to sink their teeth deeper than the surface of a relationship.

Most nights, you find yourself staying over after working so late. When there's downtime in between decedents, he's so persistent about helping you with your notes, reviewing with little corrections as he praises the growth you've shown in your hard work.

Never before have you had a partner that was so adamant about working hard toward your goals, while finding balance to put your needs first, too. Steve's not pushy, doesn't nag (though sometimes you tease him for how serious he gets), doting but never overbearing, and only wants the best for you in whatever your dreams are. 

Never before have you ever had a partner who was also undead, fangs and all, but you know what they say; there's a first time for everything.

Despite Steve being such a generous partner in nearly every aspect of your relationship, he's finally begun to let his guard down, allow you to care for him, too. 

From little things, like checking in when he's working long hours, if he needs to feed— be it from his usual supply or you. The latter is never the choice if he's still working; last thing he needs is distraction, and feeding from you simply shuts out the world around him. Then you're left a whining mess, drunk off his blood lust and your blood loss, and he's always got to do something about it— not like he's ever one to complain, of course.

Today felt never-ending, leaving behind exhaustion so heavy you were ready for bed the moment you and Steve called it a day. Too tired even for the sickeningly sweet and domesticated routine you've fallen into while staying the night; a cup of tea for you, a glass of blood for Steve, all cozy and cuddled up to one another while winding down the day together.

Steve knew you could stretch your energy thin, but he's never seen you so drained before.

Well, other than when he quite literally drained blood from you the very first time. You've grown accustomed enough to his feedings that you rarely pass out now.

You're about to flop down on his couch, too winded for another flight of ridiculously ornate Victorian-styled stairs, but his ever so speedy reflexes catch you in time. 

"Steeeeeve, why?" You groan dramatically, drawing a chuckle out of him. He's amused at first, about to pull you upright when he realizes just how tired you are.

"Sorry, angel. You need proper sleep in a proper bed." Slipping an arm under your legs, he sweeps you off your feet as he cradles your back, carrying you bridal style. He loves doing this a little too much, but you've stopped complaining. If he wants to use that vampire strength to carry you, he can have at it.

Arms hooking around his neck, you tuck your head in too. "M'sorry, just so sleepy."

"Shouldn't apologize for that when you normally have a hard time sleeping, hm?" He carries you up a few steps before you hiss, feeling a dull ache in your lower half. He pauses mid-step. "Are you alright?"

"I think it's just from being on my feet all day. M'fine, promise." You swallow down the ache, fatigue keeping you from caring much more.

He carries you into the bedroom, helps you get ready for bed alongside him, and you're out like a light the moment your head hits the plush, silky pillow.

Something rouses Steve from his slumber in the dead of night, internal alarm bells going off, driving him into panic.

A distinct, familiar scent hits him, hits him hard; he smells blood, and it's certainly not his.

The faintest whimper draws his attention to you, curled up in his king sized bed next to him. You're not sprawled out in the usual way, the one he finds endearingly human. Instead, you're tucked up into a fetal position, arms wound around your own belly, face contorted in misery.

Steve scans over your figure with concern, checks over your skin for any lacerations. His eyes flit up to your face- your poor, pained features- and there's no blood dripping from your nose. No crimson peeking out between your lips. He's almost relieved, but the sharp, metallic scent won't fade away.

It's one he normally welcomes, one he craves, but something's not right, and clearly you're in pain.

"Angel," he whispers, large hand cupping your face, cradling it softly and feeling how clammy you are.

It's reminiscent of the time he found you lost in pained pleasure, desperate for his touch, for relief. Except now, there seems to be no pleasure in sight, only suffering.

"C'mon, wake up for me," he softly demands, drawing back to flip a lamp on, sat atop a nightstand off his side of the bed. He rolls back to you, fingers combing through your hair, and you start to stir. "That's it, it's okay, I'm here."

You mumble something incoherent, brows tugging together the more you awaken. 

"What was that?" He leans closer, kissing your forehead. 

"Hurts," you whine, rolling yourself closer to him, clutching your torso tighter. 

"Can I look? Make sure everything's alright?" You nod curtly, arms reluctantly retreating away; he gently pulls your loose sleep shirt up to expose your tummy. 

There's no blood, so that's good. Kind of. Because the source isn't here, so where the hell are you bleeding from?

Steve pulls back the covers, glancing back at you while your eyes are scrunched shut. It takes a moment, blending in with the silky red sheets on his bed, but he notices a darker spot, just on the fabric underneath you. It leads up to your shorts that aren't normally red, and— Oh.

Oh. 

Periods. Right. That's a thing for humans, and that's why you're bleeding.

He feels like an idiot for even forgetting that was a thing, adding up all the symptoms you've experienced all day, and the pain now. 

To be fair, you weren't nearly spending as much time together until a month prior, so he's never seen you in this state— or you just hid it well.

… Sure explains his senses spiraling out of control once a month since you began working with him; he could never seethe blood, only trace the scent easily. Before you knew his truth, it was a challenge to hide his bloodlust from no immediate, visible source.

You lean up on your elbows, wincing as you glance down, bleary eyed. "Wha's'wrong?"

"Hang on," Steve slips out of bed, returning in record time with towels. 

That's when it catches up to you, embarrassment pricking tears in the corner of your eyes.

"Oh my god, fuck, Steve, m'so sorry, I- I- I didn't— fuck, what's today?" You're normally so good about tracking your cycles, how on earth did you let this slip up, and now of all fucking times?

He gently cleans the blood between your legs, ignoring the urge to lick your thighs clean. His lip twitches before he focuses again. "Hey, there's nothing to apologize for."

"Except ruining your fancy sheets— god, I am not sophisticated enough to be a vampire's girlfriend." You're not sure whether to nervously ramble, cry, allow the embarrassment to eat you alive, or all three. "You probably got these in like, fucking, I don't know, Romania, or some shit."

Steve can't catch the laugh that slips away in time. "Romania?"

"Yeah!" You glare at him incredulously, like he doesn't know his own lore. "Isn't that like, the vampire capital of the world?"

Now he can't stop laughing, shaking his head as he pauses to look up at you. "Where are you getting any of this nonsense?"

"I- I don't know, the movies?"

"You need to stop watching those vampire films," he teases, licking his lips as he notices just how soaked with blood your panties are. Again, he ignores his cravings. "Those just fill your head with nonsense. Got you believing I'm out here buying bedsheets halfway across the world."

"Well, I don't know shit, and these sheets are really nice! And I ruined them!"

"Blood is easy to remove from fabric, I'm kind of good at that by now." He smirks lazily, fangs peeking out, tempting you to beg for their sharp affection. "And I got these at the mall, not fucking… Romania, Jesus Christ."

"Oh," is all you respond with, tumbling into laughter at how fucking outlandish you must sound to him. Then the thought of Steve at the mall is suddenly hilarious to you, and your amusement only builds, a welcomed distraction from the pain. "What the fuck do you go to the mall for?"

"What the fuck do I—" he begins repeating you, scoffing. "I needed new shoes, too. Where the fuck do I get those? Italy?"

Barking out a laugh, you clap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide, apologizing from behind your palm. He only rolls his eyes, but the smirk never falters.

"I think you still have some other clothes here, should probably get you into something more comfortable, hm?" The two of you settle down, though he can't help but joke once more. "Unless you need me to fly to Europe for—"

You sit up, playfully shoving your palm against his mouth to shut him up. The sudden movement makes you wince, cramps spreading from your pelvis into the tops of your thighs.

Steve removes your hand as any humor is abandoned, leaning in to kiss you softly. It's quick. It's not meant to be suggestive, not meant to lead to anything beyond comfort and care, nor does it climb past that.

"You rest, angel, I'll take care of you." He leans you back carefully against the pillows again, sucking in a sharp breath when the scent of your blood rushes through him.

He hovers over your hips, and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging down gingerly. It's not meant to be sexual. Really. Truly. It's not. Neither is the kiss innocently pressed against your hip, meant to be more soothing than anything. He kisses down to your thigh while pulling the ruined fabric away, only out of comforting you, he swears.

Yet traces of blood tinge his lips where they last lingered, and out of mindless habit, his tongue darts out to lick them clean.

What a mistake that is.

Steve tenses up, pupils blowing wide with instant bloodlust, bleeding into the depths of crimson in his irises. 

You gulp, "Steve?"

He kisses your thigh again, lips dragging against your skin with his tongue trailing, licking up the blood that had dried. It's soothing, it's weird. He knows this is weird, right?

"Steve…" Your warning tone wavers, swallowing down a sigh over how soothing his tongue feels against your skin.

At first, you're mesmerized by how whipped he's become over your scent, not even tasting from the source. He gets too close to your core, fangs grazing the top of your thigh, hands pushing your legs apart. You run a hand through his hair, giving a warning tug, yanking him back from your body.

A throaty groan rumbles out of him while the grip on your legs tightens. He's wrecked just from that preview alone, ripped out of the spell your blood has him under. He could usually be more dominant over you, but he'll always be submissive for the blood that runs through your veins.

Steve whimpers out, "Please?"

Denying him anything feels like a sin in itself, but this is a step too far.

"You do not want that kind of blood," you try reasoning, shaking your head. "It's not the same."

"S'all the same to me," he hopelessly slurs. "You could use the relief, too."

"Don't tell me you actually believe that shit," you roll your eyes. "Sex doesn't help with periods."

"Maybe you haven't had the right partner try yet." Steve's smug, but it's cute, never annoying or arrogant; usually— and you hate to admit it— he's right, and that smirk and quirked brow are justified. 

It feels like embers are smoldering under your skin, face running hot. "Well, you- you're just saying that to get your way."

He drops the smirk, crawling over you, careful not to let his body rest against yours; you're too sensitive for anything like that right now.

"As much as I'm craving this, your comfort comes first." While holding himself up with one arm, the other reaches for your face, softly curving to the shape of your cheek. You lean into the refreshing, cool touch, eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. "Thought I'd offer, but the last thing I want is for you to ever feel pressured into intimacy."

Even with the way your insides feel like they're twisting and tangling, your clit still throbs. The concept is so gross, but the more you think about him going down on you right now, the more you crave him.

Biting your lip, you try talking yourself out of it, but it only becomes more of a desire as you imagine it.

"If it hurts, we can stop, right?"

"Always. Always."

"Okay… alright, fine, but—!" You sit up a bit, wiping what little blood is left away from his lips. "Can I kiss you first?"

"What, you'd rather not kiss me after?" His teasing earns a glare from you. 

"Don't push it," you murmur, crashing your lips against his. You can still taste traces of a metallic tang, but you're instantly intoxicated by his slow, intentional kisses, swipes of his tongue caressing against your own. Your lips break away for a moment, whimpering into his mouth, "Oh, fuck."

"That's what I like to hear," he praises, trailing kisses down your neck and to your chest, hand gently pushing against your breastbone to lay back down. He caresses your breasts with a feather-light touch, cautious because they're so sore. "Gonna make you feel so good angel."

"Y'always do," you gasp while his lips close around your nipple, rolling the other softly between his fingers. No pinching, no biting, nothing like his usual teasing, just pure sweetness. 

He rolls his tongue over the sensitive peak, moaning while sucking at it, taking extra care not to scrape his fangs against it.

"Steve…"

"Shhh, I got you," he promises, switching his hand and mouth to opposite sides. You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he hums with satisfaction around the nub. It makes you squirm. He pulls off with a wet pop! "Poor thing, so sensitive and needy."

Each kiss he leaves behind doesn't just turn you on, it feels good— genuinely soothes any ache he lays his lips on, or laps his tongue along. And he takes his time kissing gently all over your torso; he always treats you like you're precious, because truly, to him, you are, but the particular care he takes with you now makes you emotional.

No one's ever been so soft with you before. No one's ever cared this much to try and ease the aches and pains and agony you feel month after month.

Of course, no former partner ever had weird vampire healing properties, but your point still stands, emotions still valid.

You're so lost in the dreamy haze he relaxes you into, he has to use your name to catch your attention.

Like being pulled out of a daydream, you're slow to respond. "… Hm?"

Steve's face is dangerously close to your core, eyes politely on you rather than the feast of blood between your thighs. "I asked if you're still comfortable with this. You doing alright?"

"Ye-yeah," you nod fervently. "Sorry, it feels really good. Kinda started forgetting about the pain."

"That's what we want, right?"

"Uh-huh," you breathe shakily. 

"You know what to do if it hurts?"

"Tell you to stop," you whisper, feeling shy while he's so close to something so personal, in a different light. 

"I should have the self control, but if you need to stop, and I don't obey, you can pull my hair again, as hard as you need to. Understand?"

The word obey rattles through your brain, completely devoid of anything else other than how hot it just sounded coming from him. 

He's gonna be the death of me. 

"Angel, need you to speak up."

"Uh-h- huh, I understand."

"Good girl," he leaves a kiss at the top of your mound, sending shivers up your spine. Arms sliding under your thighs, he brings you closer, glancing up one more time to check on you. You're tense, anticipating something to hurt. He coos, "Relax for me, angel."

You're about to, until you feel a chaste peck on your slit, instantly flooded with desire while a voice in the back of your head is shaming you for how wrong this is.

… Really, you could be doing worse things than allowing your vampire boyfriend to go down on you during your period.

Steve kisses again, slower this time, eyes flitting up to you, smirking against your skin when you let out a blissfully, airy sigh. He leans down with an open mouthed kiss, savoring your taste, pacing himself within each kiss that follows. 

He'd honestly devour you if it wouldn't hurt so much, so with all his strength, he keeps his patience and restrains himself, tentatively parting your folds with his tongue. 

Your flow is heavy and messy— it always is on the first day, and for once, it seems like a positive. Steve's tongue takes its time, lapping up the crimson surrounding your clit, groaning deeply while his eyes roll back, like the very first time he tasted your blood.

It's an odd balance to find between the filthy nature of it all, and holding some sort of composure that is sensitive to your needs, but somehow, he finds it.

He swirls his tongue around your clit, dragging it back down your folds to trace the tip along the edge of your entrance. Arms hooked all the way around your legs, he reaches around your thighs and down to spread your lips apart, allowing him to delve deeper.

When Steve's inside you, savoring every drop of blood he can lave, you gasp sharply, hips arching up while shoving your core against him. The sounds he makes are polite, at best, just sensual, nothing insane. Yet the longer he continues tasting you, the more primal he sounds.

No one has ever worshiped your body with their mouth the way Steve has, and it always sends your mind spiraling, heart racing, toes curling while your back arches in ecstasy. 

This time is different. It's raw, intensified, sparking a fuse deep down you didn't even realize was within you. You don't realize you're rolling your hips at first, gently, testing the waters as you're lost in bliss no god would ever forgive you for.

It's when Steve groans, tongue flat against your clit, fangs faintly teasing along your folds, that you look down, embarrassed you can't stop grinding against his face.

On the other hand, he's not upset. Not one bit.

"C'mon, angel," his voice rumbles against your skin, blood coating his lips. When he pulls back to spit onto your cunt, spreading you apart, it's clear his entire chin is covered in your blood. "Give it to me."

The sight shouldn't turn you on, his filthy praise shouldn't make you weak, and the feeling… well, it's just too damn good to be anything but sinful.

Fingers carding through his hair, you pull lightly, earning sinful noises out of Steve. Your hips roll forward, gaining a pace of desperation as you grind onto his face. He continues to hold his tongue broad and flat against your clit, groaning lowly. Partly, because he's enjoying this way too much, but you're so sensitive, he knows any delicious friction or vibration could set you off.

"Please, please, please—" You buck against Steve's mouth, fangs catching on your delicate skin, leaving nothing more than a scrape behind. Yet it's more fresh blood for Steve, and that pleasure intertwined with pain giving a similar head rush. You plead, "More— fuck, Steve…."

He delicately circles your entrance with his finger, cautious not to trigger more pain. You plead again, nodding for extra reassurance. When you brace yourself for an ache, any sort of discomfort, all you get is more pleasure, more relief, eyes rolling back when his finger slips inside of you.

The synchronization of his tongue, finger, and lips guide you closer to pure bliss. He's only able to pump his finger a few times before you succumb to pleasure. 

Your high crests and crashes while you sob through it, while Steve pins your hips down effortlessly with one hand, seeing you to the very end. You begin to relax, hands falling away from him as you come down; he slows with you, but doesn't let up completely.

Intoxicated off your taste, he's in no hurry to back off; the kisses he leaves on your core are sloppy, yet tender. Lips parted against yours, puffy and swollen from being loved so intensely, his tongue swipes up every last drop of red he can. He moans loudly, stifled with his face buried between your thighs.

"Steve," you pant, grabbing the sheets in fistfuls again. "I can't…"

At first you think he doesn't hear you, but the more your whimpers build into something certain, his ministrations grow more certain. Hips twitching as he pins them harder to the bed, you softly sob. It doesn't hurt, it feels good— too good, overwhelming in a way you can't handle, not right now.

"Wait, I- I—"

Tongue flicking against your clit lazily, you buck against his mouth and cry out. Your legs tremble and he growls into you, beginning to lose composure.

You have no choice but to act; both hands wind your fingers through his hair, tugging forcefully as another cry slips out.

Steve breaks from the trance your blood held him in, dazed at first. He snaps out of it completely when he notices how distressed you appear.

Crudely wiping blood off his face with his arm, he crawls over you, cradling your face gently. His cool touch soothes your sensitive, overheated skin.

"Are you alright?" He panics, eyes darting up and down your figure for signs of injury. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry, angel, I'm so sorry."

You shake your head weakly with a faint smile forming. "Just too much, tha's'all," you slur as your own palm finds his jawline, shapes against it gently. "Felt s'good though."

"You sure you're alright?"

He watches you fight sleep, eyes fluttering shut while you nod weakly. "M'great," you mumble, tugging on his arm, hinting you want to cuddle. "Pain's mostly gone."

Steve sighs in relief that he not only helped with your pain, but didn't worsen it, either. Carefully, he peels your grip off of him. You pout, earning an airy chuckle, still catching his own breath.

"I just want to grab some things to clean up with, I'll be quick, I promise." He has to catch himself before kissing your forehead, a cute habit he's grown into every time he gets up before you do. "Should rinse my mouth too," he chuckles, cringing at himself.

Before he leaves, you catch a glimpse of him— and the dark spot on his sweatpants.

"Did you…"

When you trail off, his brow quirks. "Did I… what?" He follows your gaze curiously, down to his pants. You poorly stifle a giggle, and immediately he sighs. "In my defense—"

"Did you really come in your pants?" You tease, grin curling upward. Hand stretching out for his, you pull him closer back to the bed. Steve blushes. "All 'cause you—"

"Ate you out on your period, yeah, yes, don't make fun of me," he pouts, cock half-hard and twitching under the damp fabric. 

"M'not making fun of you!" Your giggles prove otherwise, but it's oddly endearing; how silly this situation is, how much you adore one another. "Just never thought I'd see the day I'd be the reason a vampire comes in his pants like a damn virgin."

His tone turns to one of light warning, "Angel—"

"Hey, it's cute how flustered you get, okay?" You sit up enough to kiss the spot teasingly, feel his bulge throb beyond the fabric barrier against your lips. The blush on his face spills down his neck and to his chest, blotchy and telling.

Steve gently pushes you back against the bed, "You shouldn't start anything you can't finish right now." When you open your mouth to protest, he grips your jaw in between his fingers. "Rest."

That's his favorite word for you at this point, and as always, reluctantly, you give in, pulling the covers over yourself.

"That's my girl," he praises with some sarcasm. His face softens, sincerely adding, "I mean it, get some sleep."

You'd protest, but you're too exhausted, passed out before he even returns.

In and out of sleep, you feel Steve care for you, cleaning with a warm cloth, helping your barely awake self change into fresh clothes, gulping down water he hands to you before collapsing back into the pillows.

You're completely knocked out when he changes the sheets, working around you like you're a damn, stubborn cat, refusing to leave the bed.

He wouldn't move you, anyway. Doesn't have the heart to disturb you after you've found enough peace to sleep.

That peace, unfortunately, is short lived.

Steve's awakened by your groans of pain, barely hidden, despite your efforts to stay silent.

Curled up tight in a ball, your back is to him as he loosely spooned you. Pillow pressed against your face, you attempt crying into it, hoping not to bother Steve, forgetting he's close enough to see and feel your shoulders shake with each sob.

"Sweetheart," he groggily murmurs, leaning over you with a hand resting on your hip. "What hurts?"

There's no use hiding it, he's already awake. You rasp out, "Everything." Turning onto your back, you grimace from the ache, gritting out, "Need you."

"I'm here, just tell me what you need."

"You."

"I heard you, but what exactly—" Steve sucks in a sharp gasp as you grab his bulge, hardening in his pants from the moment your hand is on him. You give a quick squeeze, and he groans. "Okay— okay, fuck. Jesus Christ."

Your free hand grabs at the back of his neck, reeling him in clumsily, smashing your lips against his. He grunts in surprise, yet his lips part the moment you swipe your tongue along them. 

The two of you are an absolute wreck, both separate and together. You're quick to undress one another, though Steve takes extra care in his movements, thoughtful with the discomfort you're in.

Foreplay is thrown out the window; earlier was enough, and the two of you are desperate. You both just want to soothe one another, and be soothed. 

It's when Steve is between your thighs, length in hand as he licks his lips, longingly gazing at your core, glistening in red, he finds the self control to pause.

"Angel…" He's having second thoughts, worried for your comfort. "I don't want to hurt you." Steve's cock lays heavy in his hand, tip resting on your clit, pressure generously torturing you. 

"Ju- just a little bit, then." You pout up at him, desperate for further relief from both your body at war with itself, and your relentless desire. "Please?"

His head lolls back with a throaty groan, tapping the ruddy head of his cock against your clit a few times. You jolt with a gasp, pleading under your breath pathetically.

"You'll tell me if it—"

"Yeah, yeah, if it hurts I'll say something, promise," you interrupt him, hips rolling toward him.

"Angel." He leans close to grab your face, allowing it to trail down to your neck, resting at the base. Just the sheer feeling of his hand there is enough to drive you wild. You restrain yourself, holding still. "What do I always have to remind you?"

You huff, but know better to respond. "I'll take what you give me."

Steve pushes the tip inside you, stretching you out just enough to feel something, but not completely filling you like you'd want. Your jaw drops as the stretch, like always, takes your breath away.

"And I always give you what you need, don't I?"

His thumb circles your clit, teasing by pushing an inch further into you, then pulling out. His thick tip nudges at your entrance again while he studies your expression, combing through the emotions he can always easily sense from you. You barely focus on your own pain as he slides in, a little deeper this time.

Shakily, you answer, "Uh-huh." Any hurt begins to ebb away, but your patience grows thin as Steve takes too much time and caution filling you up. Craving more relief and pleasure than he's already given, your legs hook around him, heels digging into his back to bring him closer.

Steve's hand plants flat on the bed next to you, holding himself up with ease, fighting your weak strength compared to the intensity of his. You whine, pouting.

"Patience, angel." He sinks into you at a pace so torturous, you're ready to cry. The stretch feels so good, but the way he drags this out brings your thoughts to a halt. It must be apparent on your face, because he chuckles. "Already cock-drunk?"

"Don't be mean— fuck!"

You gasp as he bottoms out, chest flush to your own. Every so often he picks up a filthy term you'd least expect out of his mouth, and it shocks you all the same, each time, every time.

Breathless from the stretch, you grab his face to kiss him with fervor. His hips drag away, sliding out of you, pumping back in when he swallows down your attempt of a whine.

Steve's careful not to push the pace, fucking deep into you while he takes his time, stays attentive to the noises you make. You're not making it easy, though, not with the way you slot your lips against his, or how your tongue glides against his, driven by neediness. When he breaks the kiss, you whimper so pathetically.

"Shh, shh, shh…"

He's lifting your legs, arms hooked underneath while staring down where your bodies meet and become one. The blood soaking his cock allows him to fall into a daze, an elevated tier of lust gripping his desire, driving what he craves.

"Oh…" A deep, throaty groan rumbles out of his chest, licking his lips while fixating on the crimson mess between yourselves. "You feel… divine."

Hips arching up to meet his thrusts, he picks up the pace, reveling in the little uh uh uh's you make.

There is no pain, your body no longer inflicting torment on itself from the inside out, only bliss. You've reached this height of pleasure before, but never in such a way where the euphoria is enough to soothe away the hurt.

Your warm, tight heat is already heaven to a creature of sin like Steve, but his climax rushes closer in reach each time he looks down between your figures. 

"I can't— I-" He pants, eyes twisting shut to hold out a little longer; if he looks at the blood one more damn time, he's going to finish way faster than he hopes. 

You flutter around him, grabbing one hand away from your leg, gasping, "S'okay, m'close too." 

Placing his pointer and middle fingers to your lips, you take them in, sucking softly while staring up at Steve with the dreamiest, far-away look, like you're in total heaven, practically lost in it.

Steve grunts, hips stuttering as he finds himself on the edge of release. You pluck his fingers from your lips, dragging his hand down to your neck, a trail of spit glistening in its wake. He takes the hint, resting his hand at the base of your throat again.

With a nod as silent approval, he tightens his grasp, just enough to feel the lightest amount of pressure on your blood flow, and it's game over for you.

Gasping, your eyes flutter shut while stars explode behind your lids. You twitch and jerk and shudder as you tighten around Steve, while that little, dizzying, gentle grip he holds on your neck does you in. He releases your other leg, thumb circling your clit to help you finish.

You cry out as he follows not too far behind, your name tumbling from his lips in praise of how good you feel, how good you are, shutting himself up by kissing you before he says far too much.

It's quiet when the two of you float back down to reality, panting as your hearts beat wildly in time with one another. The two of you are a sweaty, sticky mess, and the blood certainly does nothing to help that. His skin is hot to the touch— something you're still getting used to whenever he's aroused, but he'll be back to his unnatural body temperature soon enough.

You're breathless as Steve rolls off of you, body limp against the mattress like a rag doll. He's even a bit winded, and that's saying quite a bit for his inhuman stamina. Still, he smirks down at you, submerged in an exhausted afterglow.

"So… how'd that feel?" He asks, snuggling closer while he hooks you closer in his embrace. You stare wordlessly at the ceiling, and he frowns. "Angel?"

You rasp out, "… I'm throwing out every painkiller to my name. And my heating pad."

A loud, genuine laugh bursts out of Steve. One that shows his fangs, gleaming in the low light. The kind of laugh you adore dearly, because it displays the level of comfort he feels to be truly himself around you.

Then again, you're pretty confident he feels comfortable enough with you if he's willingly eating you out on your period.

"Thank you." Your voice cracks, worn down from your loud sounds. 

Steve's tempted to say it, the big thing you both once feared, maybe still do, but he replaces it with, "I care about you. So much."

It makes you smile anyway. "Care 'bout y'too," you mutter, ready to doze off.

He cuddles with you for a little while, hand cupping the side of your face as you relax against him. When your eyes flutter shut, he releases you before slipping out of bed. Circling to your side, he picks you up with ease, carrying you down the hall to the bathroom.

You're tempted to protest, but you don't get the chance to voice how the loss of his bed feels before he speaks. 

"We can rest after a bath, alright?"

"M'gonna fall asleep in the tub and drown," you snort as he sets you against the ornate sink counter. The marble is a welcomed chill to your hot skin, meeting your back and holding you upright.

"He turns on the faucet, allowing the tub to fill up. "I won't let you drown," Steve chuckles. Turning back to you, he gently nudges you against the sink, hand kneading at your hip softly. "Up."

When you whine at the thought of moving, he makes another noise of amusement, helping you sit on the counter's surface. You gasp as the chill penetrates your skin even further.

While soaking a fresh cloth in warm water, you groan, "Ugh, Steve, don't make me sit up here, I'm gonna bleed all over the damn place."

He only shrugs, with the tiniest smirk, before spreading your legs. Standing between them, he begins cleaning the blood with a feathered touch. You jolt from the contact, still sensitive.

"Do you think I care about that? After what we just did?"

Mumbling something incoherent, he chuckles while he finishes cleaning you off. Instantly, you relax against him, embrace hanging loosely around his waist.

You must fall asleep at some point, head resting on his chest, because he's picking you up again. He laughs softly and sets you into the water with caution. "You might sleep too well tonight. I'll have to check in to make sure you're still breathing every few hours."

"Just don't accidentally embalm me," you mumble, head lolling forward. Steve catches you, holding you upright while entering the bath behind you. "That'd kinda suck."

Easily amused by your tired nonsense, he brings you back to rest against his chest. "I… don't think that's how that works."

"Well, I dunno, you were alive when undertakers held mirrors under people's noses to check if they were really dead or not. Not me."

His head falls onto yours as his shoulders shake in a silent laugh. "You really love to remind me I'm ancient compared to you, hm?"

"Not ancient, but you're old, man." You snort, slumping against Steve. You pull at his arms, tightening them around you. "My favorite old guy."

"Mhm," he hums playfully, murmuring, "I'll let that slide, because I love you."

Your breath hitches. Neither of you had said it yet, but you've felt it, acknowledged you were falling, and Steve did, too. It's been an unspoken understanding, showing, rather than telling.

Until now.

He realizes the slip up, stiffening with apprehension. "I- I'm sorry, that wasn't— I should've waited—"

"Steve," you cautiously turn to him, legs settling on either side. Arms draping over his shoulders, you rest your forehead on his. "I love you."

Tension eases out of him, relaxing underneath you.

"You do?"

Resting your palm on his chest over his heart, you feel the rhythm of thumps, practically identical to a human heart. It beats rapidly, like the day you confessed how love scares you.

It never ceases to amaze you, the trade-offs and permanent fixtures of traits and quirks when a human becomes a vampire.

Love doesn't scare you anymore— not completely, at least. 

Despite falling for someone forbidden, who is meant to be dangerous, he's the farthest thing from that. 

Steve is gentle with a heart of gold; ironically, he's living proof that the undead aren't inherently evil. Underneath who he is now, he's still human at heart. He's still Steve.

Obviously, you didn't know him before he turned, long before you entered this world, but you're certain he was just as kindhearted and sweet as he is now. Even through whatever tragedies he's endured, losses that he could've allowed to turn him bitter, he's held onto the roots of what keeps his heart pumping.

Love doesn't have to be this terrible, nightmarish monster when you share it with Steve. With him, it's anything but.

"Yeah," your thumb sweeps along his skin, running over his chest hair, soft smile appearing as his heart beats faster under your hand. "I really do."

When Steve kisses you, his thoughts align with yours; love isn't anything to fear.

steve’s a good guy, and when you offered to help him relieve his stress even further by letting him use you however he wants, you really did mean it. the only stipulation he asked for was that it only happened if he was stoned, because that somehow made it less weird.

this time, steve’s had a bad week. which seems to be a little bit more like a bad month. keith has him working ridiculous hours, and robin keeps bailing on her shifts to hang out with vicky. his car battery won’t keep a charge despite it being changed three times, and he needs new tires.

and he’s lonely. very terribly lonely.

you hear it in his voice when he calls you a little bit past 8, beating around the bush for a minute before telling you that he’s planning on smoking and would you pretty please come over. and maybe wear something that provides easy access.

you wouldn’t dream of denying yourself — or him — of that.

and use you, he does. all of you.

kisses you until you’re gasping for air, biting at your lips and licking into your mouth like it’s made of candy.

grabs your hips and hauls you onto his lap, hardly getting you stretched open enough before bullying his way inside of you. he knows you love the burn, the way he keeps you steady and helps you take it. he fucks you on his cock like you’re a toy, something for him to play with. something truly his.

steve loves it when you ride him, though he’s typically the one making you bounce. his teeth latch onto his bottom lip while he moves you, up and down at a dizzying pace. when the taste of copper hits his tongue, he leans forward to suck and kiss your nipples. he’s prone to leaving a hickey or two or five on your breasts, just because he can. likes knowing you’re marked up by him and no one else.

and when your legs get too tired, he flips you onto your back, hooking your knees over his shoulders. he’s slow now, grinding in deep, holding your hands to his mattress while he coos down at you.

“you’re real good to me, yeah? lettin’ me use this pretty pussy?”

you leave with shaking legs after, your stomach in knots for the rest of the evening thinking about him and thinking about how he may like to use you again in the future. maybe you could cockwarm him — or perhaps a blowjob, guiding the tip past your gag reflex just to feel your throat tighten around him —

his next call comes not even twelve hours later, just as the sun is starting to rise.

“i’m sober. but i can’t stop thinking about you.”

Currently, you're most unsure of why you're still at the hockey house. They won their game tonight. Another easy accomplishment for the university's team, unsurprisingly led by Steve, their superstar player and shoo-in for captain next year. You've heard that he's already getting scouted by NHL teams, but his golden boy repute means that he'll finish his degree before heading off to a fruitful career as a professional hockey player.

You scoff at the thought. You try not to let the jealousy build in your body, but you can't help it — Steve's gotten everything he's wanted since the beginning of time. You don't need to know him to prove your point; he just radiates that very fact.

So, again. Why are you laying on a lounge chair in the backyard of the hockey house, fully knowing the party is dead and there's nothing left for you to do but go home?

You know you could go inside, make eye contact, and flirt with any one of the remaining players who are sober enough to make a conscious decision, and find enough warmth for the night to get by.

But you don't want to do that.

For some stupid, pathetic reason, you're holding out for him, and you have no idea why.

You sigh and pull the cigarette from behind your ear, then grab the lighter from your bra. You feel like you've made an idiot of yourself over the past few weeks. Ever since Steve initially propositioned you, you've slept with three of his teammates, for no reason other than wanting him to know what it feels like to want something. But each time you fucked them, it was boring, wearisome, and you thought about Steve the entire time.

You hate it.

You think you hate Steve, too, but you know that's not true, either.

You're taking a drag and staring at your shoes when the man who's been haunting your thoughts finally makes an appearance in the dark backyard. There's still a string of lights up, a pitiful attempt at college students making their outdoor space look presentable, not to mention the litter of empty, crushed beer cans and solo cups.

Steve furrows his eyebrows when he recognizes you, immediately worrying that you're passed out with a lit cigarette in your hand, or too drunk to get home. When he approaches you, you smirk lazily at him. He swallows.

"Harrington," you greet, your throat dry from its lack of use. You don't know how long ago you came out here, but you do know that at some point, you decided you'd had enough of the loud speakers and beer pong, and the guy on the basketball team who kept pawing at your short skirt was getting seriously old.

"Are you alright?" Steve asks, gesturing to your sluggish profile. You shrug your shoulders before taking another drag from your cigarette, then wordlessly offer it to Steve. He shakes his head.

"Fine," you murmur, sitting up so your back is against the length of the chair, "You?"

"Just doing a sweep before heading to bed. Making sure there's no one lingering from the party."

"Am I a lingerer?" you ask, tossing your cigarette in the grass and crushing it with your shoe.

Steve lifts a hand to run it through his messy hair. He's exhausted. You can see it in the bags beneath his eyes.

"You don't live here, so by definition, you're lingering, yeah."

You hum. You can take a hint. You know when you're not wanted somewhere.

"I'll get out of here, then." you say, preparing to stand. Steve reaches out and clasps a hand around your wrist — gently, like you could still pull yourself away if you wanted to.

"Why are you still here?"

Your tongue pokes out to lick your lips. Steve watches, unabashedly, and feels his pants tighten at the sight of it. You want to smirk, because he's one of the easier and more enjoyable men you've played with.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" you purr, leaning towards him, batting your eyelashes. "You were begging to fuck me just a few weeks ago."

Steve laughs, all breathy and without the humor. It's an immediate shot to your ego.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, and you shake your head too quickly. You're not; the shots you had when you got here had worn off hours ago. "Then why are you... I think I'm just a little... confused."

You snort. Try not to roll your eyes. Maybe the golden boy nickname isn't so far anyway.

"You're gonna turn down fucking me when you were all but ready to pay me for it, like, a month ago?"

"I'm not that desperate," Steve mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face, "You were so uninterested then, I don't understand what changed."

You shrug. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," Steve says stubbornly, "It does. It matters a lot, actually."

You sigh loudly, then shake your head.

"This is stupid," you mutter, standing up. He doesn't stop you this time. "Don't come to me for that shit ever again."

When you start to walk away, Steve's right behind you, and you wish you're strong enough to push him.

"C'mon, don't do this," you hear him say as you're approaching the sliding glass door. "It's late. Just stay here for the night."

You stop, then turn to look at him with a quirked brow.

He shakes his head. "We're not doing anything though. Not tonight, anyway."

"I don't understand what your problem is, Harrington."

He laughs, tilting his head back to expose his neck. You want to lean forward and mouth at his skin, pressing messy kisses to the length of it all the way down to his chest.

"I don't have a problem."

"Most guys would never shut me down," you say, crossing your arms. "I could go in there and ask any one of your teammates to pound me into their mattress and—"

Suddenly, Steve's hand is on your mouth, a warning look in his eyes. You grin. Even if he can't see it, you know he can feel it from behind his palm.

"Lower your voice," he mumbles. "Will you please just stay? You can take my bed, I'll sleep on the floor, I'll send you off with some breakfast in the morning and everyone will think that we fucked, and it'll be fine and dandy. Yeah? That good enough for you?"

You dart your tongue out to lick his hand. He flinches and instantly retreats, making you laugh.

"God, you're such a baby. Afraid you're gonna get cooties?"

"No."

"Take me upstairs," you say, and Steve's eyes brighten. He must really have some kind of white knight complex and it makes you sigh. "But you're not sleeping on the floor, because we're not 12 years old, and just for the record, I'm not doing this for some kind of reputation maintenance thing."

Steve hums as his hand politely finds the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs and to his bedroom.

"We can sleep in the same bed as long as you promise not to make a move." he murmurs. You stop in front of a wooden door in the middle of the long hallway, waiting as Steve pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks it.

"I would never do that," you whisper. "Seriously, do you think I'm a monster?"

Steve doesn't say anything to that, and instead just leads you into his room. He locks the door behind you and you glance at him. He's already moved on to emptying his pockets onto his desk, getting rid of his wallet and keys. There's not much to Steve's bedroom, just a bed, a dresser, and a desk, but it's clean enough for a college athlete. Your eyes glaze over the small collection of pictures tacked up on the wall over his desk, then some of the hockey paraphernalia throughout the room.

"You want something to wear to bed?"

You look to Steve and nod, and he tosses you a large, worn tee-shirt. You bite your lip as you start to strip your clothes off and you hear Steve curse to himself, making you smirk.

"You could've gone to the bathroom for that, you know," he borderline whines. You grin at him in your bra. He groans and turns around.

When you've shed the rest of your clothing and slipped his shirt on, you tell him he's in the clear. He rolls his eyes and quickly puts his own sweats on, then joins you in the bed.

It's not quite awkward, but you're not exactly going straight for cuddling, not that you had anticipated Steve to be the type. He clicks the light off and lays down next to you, both of you silent as the late hour finally catches up to you.

A few minutes later, Steve breaks the silence.

"Are you ever gonna tell me why you wanted to sleep with me tonight?" he whispers.

You blink your eyes open and think for a moment.

You don't have the courage to be honest with yourself, which means you most definitely don't have the courage to be honest with Steve.

You roll onto your side to face him. He does the same, and you lick your lips.

"No," you murmur, hands resting between your cheek and the pillow. "Are you ever gonna tell me why you wanted to sleep with me the night of that party?"

Steve closes his eyes and scooches closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You're a little surprised by the contact, but you tell yourself you let it happen because you're tired and it feels nice.