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He placed the papers down on the table, looking at you with the stern authoritarian expression you had grown to love. “What’s this about?” He ended his question with your name. You loved the way it sounded when he said your name.

“I mean…. we’re always very…. athletic…. in bed. And I love that. I do. I guess I just want to switch things up a bit.”

“Huh.” He stood, perching his ass on the side of the boardroom table. “And what’s it about, really?”

“Being overpowered by you.” You bit your lip.

“Got it. You want me to be a dominant?”

You frowned. “How do you know about that?”

“Loki and I have had some… interesting conversations over the years.” He smirked, recalling the delicious tales the Asgardian gifted him with over a beer of a Sunday morning.

“Now see that,” you gestured, pointedly, “is something I would love to hear more about.”

His throat scoffed out a laugh, looking away from you and smiling. “I’m sure you would.” He looked back, cocking his head towards himself, his tone soft and affectionate. “Come ‘ere.”

You walked to him, raising your shoulders meekly, your cheeks dimpling with a smile, causing him to blush. You walked around the table cautiously, dragging a fingertip along the wood. When you reached him, you stood in between wide open thighs. He placed a hand on your lower back to pull you closer. “Look, I’m…. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Even if it’s just pretend.” You pouted at his words. “But….” a finger raised, “I can meet you halfway.”

“Oh yeah?” You squinted at him in playful challenge. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“Well, err….” He scratched the back of his head and looked down, as though he were committing a sin for even thinking about it. “I could, umm…. I could, I suppose….” It felt wrong. So wrong. He was gifted his strength to use for good. And only for good. This wasn’t honourable. Maybe that’s why his jeans tightened at the thought. He raised his chin up confidently, exposing his muscular neck. “I could overpower you. Physically.”

Oh God…..

He noticed you swallow. He might be old-fashioned, but he could take a hint. He ran with this new persona. “I could use my strength. Pin you down so you…. so you couldn’t move.”

“Mmm hmm,” you mustered a noise. “And what else?”

“I c-could - ” He pause to find his poise. “I would give orders. And you would take my lead.”

“You would do that for me?”

He leaned down, brushing hair from your flushed skin, whispering. “You know I might even enjoy it.”

You glanced at the boardroom table.

“Not here, though.”

“Your bedroom, Captain?”

He blushed, biting his lip before looking up and regaining his authority. “My bedroom, Ma’am. 08:00 sharp.”

“You will obey my orders. You will address me as Captain, or Captain Rogers only. Is that clear?”

“Yes Captain.” You sat on the edge of his bed as instructed, your hands resting daintily in your lap.

“Good.” He walked around the bed, glancing at your back, testing the waters in this new play.

You had talked about it. He couldn’t use any force, no matter how much you craved it. He could hurt you. Really hurt you. So he would have to use his words.

You wanted to feel smaller than him. He had an idea of how he could achieve that. It was more psychological than physical. He thought it safer. He only prayed that he wasn’t crossing a line.

It was time to test how far he could push that boundary.

“And…. we’ll have none of that 2020’s women’s rights nonsense. Got it?”

God this feels so wrong yet so right…..

“Y-yes Captain.”

“Where’s a woman’s place?” He paced around you, slowly. As instructed, you didn’t look up.

“I-In the kitchen, Captain Rogers?” Your tone up-ticked at the end, posing a question.

“That’s right Ma’am.” He leaned down, hands on his knees, smirking. You felt a firm hand grab your chin, lifting your gaze up to his sightline. “And there’s nowhere else a pretty face like you should be. Just the kitchen, and the bedroom. You got it?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?” He cocked his head. The steely look in his eyes made you question if he was about to deliver a strong back hand. Steve Rogers would never. But imagining he could….

“Y-yes Captain.”

“Good girl.” He began to unbuckle the belt of his jeans, his back to you now, athletic ass giving you a show. “Lay down on the bed.”

“Yes Captain.” You shifted back over the top of the duvet, laying down flat on your back, hands on your stomach. You swallowed, hard.

“Take off your panties. Place them on the floor. Keep your dress on.”

“Yes Captain.”

He turned, cock in his hand, pleasuring himself to the sight of you. “You’re such a good fuckin’ girl.”

The bed dipped as he kneeled on it. In moments, he was on top of you, knees either side of your hips. “Hands up.”

You placed them up in surrender, almost wanting to giggle. He nearly broke character, his lips quirking at the corners. He folded his arms, hard cock bobbing beneath him. “Place your hands above your head, Ma’am.”

“Yes Captain….”

He leaned down, placing his hand around your wrists. He began to add pressure. Whispering, he asked, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you move?”

You tried. You couldn’t. You shook your head.

“Good. Is it enough, sweetie?”

“You can… you can squeeze a little harder if you like, Steve.”

He added a little pressure. “Like this?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay. Ready?” He cleared his throat and dropped back into the character of the wartime misogynist. He sat upright, towering above you. “You can’t move, beautiful. And you’re not gonna.” He took his cock in his hand and stroked himself, more vigorously this time. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say. And you know why that is?”

“B-because you’re in charge, Captain Rogers.”

His heart swelled. So did his cock. “You got that right, sweet cheeks.” Firm hands pressed into the mattress as he lowered himself down. He squeezed his knees around you. “You’re not gonna come. You’re not gonna move. You’re not gonna so much as speak, unless you’re spoken to. You got it?”

Miraculously, you squeaked out a response. “Y-yeah.”

“Good girl. My… my pretty, stupid little girl.”

Your Steve valued your intelligence. Your wit. Your strength. Your independence. But this Steve? This Steve treated you as though you were a brainless cock-drunk moron.

And you didn’t hate it.

Your two active brain cells were jolted together by the sensation of Steve entering you, firmly thrusting into you without warning. He wasn’t harsh. But he wasn’t gentle, either. His brows knitted together, lips mouthing You okay? You nodded.

He thrust in and out of you, the punishing grip of his knees on the sides of your thighs never relenting, pinning you in place. You anticipated nothing but groans and ragged gasps. But Steve had another treat in store. As his hips bucked back and forth, cock entering you like a piston, jeans slung low over his hips, he asked you a series of questions.

“Who’s the leader of the Avengers?” His head tilted back, creases forming around his eyes as he squeezed his lids tight shut.

“You are, Captain.”

“Who’s in ch-charge?” He grunted after the last word.

“Y-you are, Captain.”

“Who’s gonna…. oh god…..” He eyelids flashed open for a second, eyes rolled back, out of it. “And who’s gonna rail you like you’ve never been r-railed?”

“You are, Captain.”

“You’re damn right.” He leaned down over you, one hand releasing your wrists to adjust the roll of his shirt sleeves. His forearms flexed in the process, before returning his grip around your delicate slim wrists.

Despite your best efforts to obey, you reached up and grabbed a handful of his shoulder, the muscle moving underneath your touch as he rocked back and forth into you, his arm trembling with the force of holding up his own body weight. Underneath his dress shirt, his abs flexed.

Not that you could see them.

You whined in frustration.

“So dumb you can’t even follow orders, huh? Even a slutty army secretary can do that.”

You bit your lip. Being verbally degraded by Steve Rogers was everything.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, snaking its way through your body and having no escape other than through your lips. You moaned again. “Pl-please. Please, Steve.”

“Please… what?” He squeezed your wrist to punctuate his point.

“Please, Captain.”

“Captain who?”

“Captain Rogers. Please.”

“No. Wait for my word. Got it?” His tone remained authoritative, yet hopeful. He wasn’t going to drag this out. You were grateful. But it wasn’t mercy. He craved his release as much as you. His thighs trembled with the force of holding back the torrent of release he had inside for you.

“G-god….” He groaned, chest heaving, continuing the rhythmic movement of his hips.

“Pl-please…. I can’t…. I can’t….”

And you really couldn’t. You bit down on your lip, harder this time. Mercifully, he gave his command.

“I need you to come. That’s an order.”

You obeyed, relaxing fully and feeling the warmth of climax rush through your veins, pleasure exploding in every cell of your being. The Captain’s breath came in sharp through his lips, exhaling just as abruptly, as he began to come inside of you. He groaned. Long, needy, desperate. You watched as he came undone, feeling as though your stomach had dropped right out of your body.

As his form became weak from release, he lowered himself to his elbows, your wrists long since surrendered from his unrelenting grip. His head remained bowed. In prayer, or in surrender, you weren’t sure. You stroked his back, obscenely strong back muscles rippling under your loving touch. You didn’t realise until he spoke, but he maintained his charade as the dominant army general.

“Is there anything I can get you, baby?” You asked sweetly.

“Yeah.” He had one last demand before he pulled out of you. “Make me a sandwich.”

“I went too far didn’t I? With the 1940’s thing?” A half hour later, you cuddled with him on the sofa, roles returning to reality, all masks long-since dropped.

“The feminism left my body for a second there, not gonna lie.”

“God, I knew I went too far.” He shook his head, berating himself, hand pressed firm over his mouth as though he were preventing any insulting words from spilling out.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna kick your ass at training tomorrow, that’s all.”

“That’s fair.” He chewed on his lip. “You know, I had no idea I could be such an asshole.”

“It was probably very therapeutic for you.” You looked over your shoulder at him. He looked down, lovingly, drawing circles over your thighs. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“Yeah. But it doesn’t make it right.”

“Oh well. As long as you know your place, Captain.”

He blushed.

“Where is your place, Captain?” you challenged.

“Underneath you.” You yelped as he lay back and pulled you on top of him.

“No! I gotta go….” Palms pressed flat on his chest as you pushed yourself up.

“Hang on. Where you going?” He sat up on his elbows, a forlorn expression etched into his handsome features.

You glanced over your shoulder with all the confidence of a woman who had been deliciously fucked and verbally degraded by a living legend. “You’ll see.”

You disappeared around the corner into the galley of the kitchen. Steve had his suspicions. He hoped he was wrong. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as his sat in the large sectional sofa in the middle of the open-plan kitchen space, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other lifted, propping up his chin on his fist. The backs of his knuckles grazed his lips roughly. You emerged five minutes later, presenting a plate to him before walking around the sofa behind him, reaching down to touch him literally anywhere.

You whispered in his ear, hands placed on his shoulders, coquettishly running your palms down his pecs. “Prosciutto and English mustard on rye. Just how you like it.”

He held the plate aloft as though it didn’t belong to him. “Honey I really didn’t mean…”

“I know you didn’t. But that’s why I made it. Call it a little thank you for earlier.”

“Alright, alright. But there’s one condition.” Without so much as looking, he lifted his arms up, lowered them into a tricep press position, grabbed you firmly by the waist and flipped you over the back of the sofa and onto his lap. He held the plate firmly in his hands and handed you one half of his sandwich. “On the condition that we share.”

Your sweet, gorgeous, thoughtful Steve was back. You loved it.

And part of you missed the other guy.

“Aw but I made this for you.”

“You did. And we’re gonna share it.” He lowered his gaze seriously as he urged you to take half of the sandwich. His lips pulled up into a smirk before he winked. “Captain’s orders.”