Your eyes fluttered opened when a pair of warm lips brushed your forehead.

“Good morning.” Steve was standing over you, hair damp with sweat, his tight white t-shirt clinging to his body in all the right places. It was a good look on him. You could get used to waking up to that. You'd normally left for the day by the time he got back from his weekday morning workout, and he rarely did more than a light run on the weekends, if you didn't give him a workout yourself upon waking.

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, reaching up to slip a hand underneath his shirt and spread your fingers over his flat stomach.

“I'm sweaty.” He didn't pull your hand away, though, instead covering it with his own over the fabric.

“And?” you asked with a grin.

He crinkled his nose, but was smiling. “Let me shower first.”

“I could use a shower, too. We should take one together and conserve water, save the world. You like to save the world on a regular basis.” You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes with your free hand.

“Except when you join me in the shower, it's usually longer than two individual showers combined.” He chuckled.

“Maybe,” you conceded. “Doesn’t make it any less of an awesome way to wake up, though.”

“Come on.” He helped you to your feet and ushered you into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stripped with military efficiency, as always. As much as you would have liked it, you doubted he could ever master a striptease, even with the self-consciousness factor that came from all the years before the serum aside. You would have enjoyed a striptease from him before the serum, too, though. The outward appearance of the package didn't matter to you. It was what was inside that counted. As many good people in the world there were, you didn't think anyone else could really measure up to Steve.

You felt lucky to be so close to such a good man. Tony's words echoed in your mind, how Steve deserved better than you, and a frown forced its way onto your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, a concerned look that seemed to be reserved for you on his face.

“Just thinking too much. Don’t worry about it.” You tried to smile.

“Is this about last night? I told you to ignore what Tony said because-” He started.

“Just answer me one thing?” you interrupted.

“Anything,” he replied.

“Are you happy?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer, but it was going to bother you until you knew.

“Of course I’m happy. Why would you think that I wasn’t?” he answered, with the sincerity and honesty that seemed to come with being Steve Rogers.

He occasionally lied for the greater good, like when he told you he’d lied to recruiters to get into the Army during the war, but you were certain he’d never lied to you. Not even little white lies, like when you’d asked him if a new dress made you look fat like a former acquaintance had told you. He’d simply responded that you’d always looked beautiful to him in anything and nothing. Afterward, he spent a couple hours covering you in kisses, from your lips all the way down to your toes, and mumbled against your skin how gorgeous and perfect you were. What was supposed to be dinner out at your favorite restaurant turned into Chinese delivery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not after being practically worshiped for just being yourself.

Your smile turned genuine at the memory, and at Steve’s reassurances that he was happy. You told yourself it was because he was your best friend, probably the best friend you’d ever had, and of course your best friend’s happiness was important. “I was just making sure.”

He returned your smile, not pressing for further explanation, and took your hand to lead you into the shower. The water was the perfect temperature, which never happened in your apartment. You supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise considering Tony owned and maintained the tower. It was hard to imagine him putting up with too hot or too cold showers.

You shut your eyes and enjoyed the feel of the spray against your skin for a few moments, until Steve pulled you to him by the small of your back and tilted your chin up to kiss him. It was thorough and unhurried, none of the passionate desperation that you sometimes shared. His hand didn’t stray from your back. You couldn’t help but notice his growing erection sandwiched between the two of you, though, and responded to its presence by standing on your tiptoes, sliding wet skin against wet skin.

His moan was muffled by your mouth. You moved against him again, waiting less than patiently for his reaction. Kissing Steve was perfect, his kisses so earnest, heartfelt, almost reverent against your lips. No one had kissed you like that before him, not even close. You weren’t sure you wanted anyone else to kiss you like that. It would feel wrong somehow. It made your heart jump up into your throat at the thought of the loss of those kisses, but you chose not to linger on that line of thought.

There were more pressing matters at hand after all, like your favorite ten inch hero (Steve couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it when you brought out the ruler on a lazy Sunday afternoon, but he’d indulged your curiosity nonetheless) standing proud and ready for action, literally pressing against you.

“Steve, I want...” you started, sentence left hanging as you rubbed your body against his.

"Patience,” he whispered against your ear, lightly nipping your earlobe and sloppily kissing the spot on your neck behind your ear that he knew always drove you crazy.

"Please?” Patience was a virtue that you just didn’t have when Steve was naked and hard against you. You doubted any woman in your position could keep herself under control.

You tugged his hand toward the juncture between your legs, hoping he’d have mercy on your uncomfortably aroused soul. He chuckled and slid it up your side to cup your breast instead, gently tweaking your already hardened nipple.

A frustrated groan escaped your lips at the teasing. “I want you to make me come.”

“And I want to be inside you when it happens.” He dropped down to nuzzle your breast, replacing fingers with tongue and teeth.

It was the perfect combination of alternating gentle and rough. The sensations shot directly down to your core and left you aching with need. You reached down to take the edge off yourself, but he immediately batted your hand away. When you tried again, he took both of your wrists in one of his large hands and held them against your mound, teasingly close to your goal.

"You're an evil man, Steve Rogers," you said breathlessly, feigning annoyance.

He chuckled against your skin. "I'm a tactician. This is all part of my plan."

"You're a star-spangled man with a plan?" You knew it bugged him, but he was frustrating the hell out of you.

He responded with a sharp nip to your nipple, but you could see the edges of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

You decided to try a different approach. "I'm so wet for you. I know how much you love it when you've got me practically dripping over you, just thinking about your fingers and mouth and cock working me until I don't even know my name anymore. I bet I could come on your cock alone right now. You'd just have to pin me up against the wall and use some of that super strength to fuck me, deep and hard and fast. You'd like that, wouldn't you, fucking an orgasm out of me and-"

Before you fully registered what was happening, Steve lifted you and pushed you against the wall with a growl. His mouth pressed against yours in a kiss like a conquest, biting your lips until they parted instinctually and forcefully shoving his tongue into your mouth while you were still unresponsive from your surprise. It was rare that Steve, a polite and considerate lover, really lost control with you.

You savored every thrilling and potentially risky second of it. Any bruises or other injuries would just serve as reminders that you got to ride the 6'2 wall of muscle and super soldier strength that's Captain fucking America, the sexiest bucking bronco that ever existed.

Steve's hand moved roughly between your legs. He bypassed your throbbing clit completely to shove three thick fingers into you without warning. You wouldn't admit to it, but the sound it dragged out of you might have passed as a squeak.

"You weren't lying. I'm really going to give it to you," he whispered dangerously, long fingers pressing hard into you until they were buried to the last knuckle to emphasize his point. "You don't know what you do to me sometimes."

This was new and different than it had been before. You'd fallen into these roles a few times before, but this time he was in full on Captain America mode, formidable, dominating, determined, although you weren't sure how this would play out. Even though you trusted him with your life without a moment's consideration, the uncertainty lit a nervous fire in your lower belly. The flame seemed to radiate from your sensitive inner walls, wrapped tightly around Steve's probing fingers.

"Please..." you begged, honestly unsure of what you were specifically begging for.

He pulled his fingers out suddenly and pushed them through your open lips mid-sentence. "Don't. Lick them clean."

You obeyed without overthinking it, tasting yourself on him, sucking and swirling your tongue around the pads more than was really necessary.

His eyes fluttered shut in obvious arousal, fingers lingering in your mouth for several seconds before he withdrew them and started a slow exploration of your inner thigh. He occasionally brushed against your sex for a moment, an entirely too brief moment.

You spread your legs wider and started grinding against his hand in desperation, wondering if he'd let you do it just long enough, because you were already so close.

He jerked his hand away. "I told you not to. You don't get to come until I say you can."

“What are you going to do if I do it anyway?” you asked, but stopped seeking out his hand with your hips anyway.

He shifted to dip a finger quickly into your entrance, trailing it back between your cheeks slowly and ghosted it over your hole, spreading your wetness without pressing in. It sent a shiver down your spine. If he hadn't been holding you up, your knees would have buckled.

“Oh.” You paused. It hadn’t been something you’d done before, or even talked about with him. It wasn’t that you were vehemently against the act in general, just Steve sometimes had 1940s sensibilities that were impossible to predict. More than that, though, it was that the super serum had blessed him with that long, thick, magnificent cock you were so fond of. You’d seen things on the internet that proved it would be possible for some people to take him, but it seemed more likely in your head that he would split you specifically in two. “You’ve never, I mean how do you know-”

“I know enough,” he interrupted. “You’re not the only one who looks up things on the internet.”

The thought of Steve researching sex filled your mind. Maybe the text wouldn’t be enough to envision what he read about in practice so he’d watch porn to completely grasp how it worked, purely for research purposes of course. He'd probably blush at seeing strangers naked, engaging in such wanton behavior, the obscenities and unrealistic cries of pleasure falling from their lips. His attention would be so focused on memorizing the positions, the way the actors moved, like the tactician that he prided himself in being watching battle footage. The erection straining against his pants would grow more insistent as he continued watching, until he palmed it subconsciously.

The flush in his cheeks would trail down below his shirt collar while he decided what to do about the problem that just literally popped up. Instead of the cold shower that was his usual go to in these situations, he would unzip his pants and release himself from the uncomfortable confines, still dressed so he could tuck himself away if someone knocked on the door. His hand would wrap around the shaft and stroke to the rhythm of the actor, thumb swiping over the head periodically to spread the precum along his length. It wouldn't provide enough lubricant, really, but he'd savor in the rough drag of his palm and curled fingers. After holding off as long as he could, he'd pull the last few hard tugs, and his release would coincide with the actor's. His thoughts would be clouded with images of spilling into you instead of across his shirt. The instinct to cry out would be strong, and he would use his fist to muffle the sounds drawn from deep within him.

Steve's grasp tightened on your hip. "Are you going to answer me?"

"What?" you asked, the pain pulling you out of your fantasy.

"Are you going to behave, or am I going to have to bend you over and really make you feel me for days?" he asked, the hint of a challenge in his tone.

"I..." You weren't sure how to answer, torn between something that was almost but not quite fear and arousal.

He looked at you thoughtfully before hoisting you up effortlessly and bringing you down hard on his length, taking you all the way to the hilt in a single smooth motion. "Clasp your hands together and hold them above your head."

You were more eager to follow his commands now. It was easy to tell he was close from the signals he always gave off, the tension in his body, his controlled breathing and blown pupils. It wouldn't be long, and you secretly enjoyed the feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that washed over you on the rare occasions you didn't have use of your hands.

His thrusts were quick, long, almost brutal. It all went straight to your poor, painfully ignored clit. After locking eyes with you, he adjusted the angle slightly and brought you over the edge. Your toes curled as you moaned, overwhelmed by an intense orgasm that just kept going and going. It barely registered that he had pressed his fingertip into your hole at the peak of your climax, not until after you came down, and he withdrew it, leaving a not entirely unpleasant ache in its wake.

It was an overload of emotions and sensations. The tears that started streaming down your face were involuntary. You noticed your hands were trembling when you dropped them to rest on Steve’s back.

His alarm was obvious when he saw your eyes. “Oh, baby, what have I done? Shhhh. I’m sorry, so sorry. I just thought-”

“No,” you forced out in the calmest voice you could muster. It probably wasn't calm enough. “I’m fine. It was just...a lot, and I need a minute. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve shut off the shower and toweled you off gently. When he was satisfied you were dry enough, he scooped you up and deposited you on the bed. His arms wrapped around you, warm and comforting, as he peppered your face and neck lightly with kisses, periodically wiping away the tears that streaked your cheeks.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and you let yourself get lost in the warmth and affection. You decided you'd just close your eyes for a second. The second turned into 89 slowly counted seconds before you calmly faded into unconsciousness.