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maeve

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Steve has been moping. Like, pretty hardcore moping. It's kind of pathetic, honestly, but he can't seem to shake himself out of it. He hasn't seen Maeve since their fight, or whatever it was. When he stuck in his foot in his mouth like a dumbass and hurt her unintentionally. He hasn't seen her since he fucked up.

They've texted a little, and had a very brief phone call where Steve attempted to apologize and was probably very bad at it, but that's it. He should probably go see her, but he's too afraid of what will happen if he does.

He's shoved himself into the corner of the couch, wearing a pair of dark blue lounge pants and a white tee, watching some stupid nature documentary when Robin's phone chimes. She very awkwardly gets up and declares that she's suddenly leaving the apartment for no reason, and Steve stares glumly at her while she moves around and grabs her things and pats his head before leaving him alone in their home. Very deliberately.

When the knock at the door comes ten minutes later, Steve isn't exactly surprised. His stomach does seem to bottom out though, sitting there like lead, and he wrinkles his nose and scrubs his hand over his face before getting to his feet.

He's about to get dumped. Somehow he's just sure of it. He made things hard, acted like an idiot, and that means she's going to end things. That's how it goes, and Steve realizes that his lower lip is trembling as he goes over to answer the door. He stops and blows out a breath, swallowing hard and pulling himself together before opening the door.

As expected, Maeve is on the other side. Steve can't help the way that his entire being seems to perk up at the sight of her, only to wither again at the certain fear that he's about to lose her.

"Hey. Come in," he says with a wry smile, stepping aside to make room for her.

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"Just you," she says, smiling gently, her eyes moving over him. His face first, his warm eyes, the curve of his lips, his shoulder, his neck, his arm braced on the mattress beside her.

"I'm just... I'm happy to be here with you," she continues. Statements of big feelings are usually difficult for Maeve, even now, after all this time with Steve. She wants to be honest with him and she tries so hard for him, she's trying right now. She just wants to be with him, have the reminder of him, his weight on her, his body inside her.

"Oh, babe," he says in a low, fond voice, lightly trailing the pads of his fingers down the side of her face as he smiles at her. "You have me. I'm all yours."

Neither of them are possessive of each other, not really all that jealous, but a part of him does belong to her. That's just fact. He loves her, so he's hers.

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He knows that a lot of people have let Maeve down, abandoned her or hurt her or both, and Steve never wants to be one of these people. He wants her to feel safe and secure in that knowledge. "I love you and I am going to keep on doing it for as long as you let me."

It's difficult for Maeve to believe anyone will really be there for her in the long term, only because those who have come before have fucked it up for her so completely. But with Steve, she wants to believe and that allows a little glimmer of hope, the romantic core of her she tried for so long to deny, and she smiles up at him, nodding.

"I know," she says, then grins as she leans up to kiss him, her arms slipping around his body to hold him against her. He's warm and his muscles are hard and she breaks the kiss to drag her lips along his jaw, brushing over stubble, then she bites his chin, grinning against his skin.

She bites him and he hisses playfully, laughing and sliding his hand along her chest, pinching at her nipple and giving it a tug. He reaches over to grab another condom, and he wishes that they could have nothing between them, especially after her request, but that’s out of the question now.

Before their talk, he was willing to take risks because he hadn’t really thought about it. Even though he hadn’t wanted children when he was young, it didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. He had assumed they would have some someday, but now he knows differently, and accidents can’t happen.

He looks at the condom and then sits up a little, ripping it open with his teeth and reaching down between them to roll it onto his cock. After letting go, he twists his hand to rub at Maeve’s cunt, fingers sliding between her lips and up over her clit as he watches her face.

“You’re so wet,” he says with obvious awe, pushing two fingers noisily into her cunt as he ducks his head to press a kiss to her mouth.

"I must really like you," she answers and the teasing nature of her voice is lost a little in a breathless moan when Steve's fingers press inside of her. There's something so satisfying about it, especially with him, that sensation of being full, of having him on top of her, his mouth on her, and inside of her, too. Like he's everywhere.

And she wants him to be everywhere.

She moans into his mouth, her thighs falling open wider, inviting him in. She drags her fingers down his spine, her blunt nails catching his skin lightly as she hooks one leg around his.

"I must really like you, too," Steve says as he pulls his fingers free and grabs his rock hard cock instead, positioning the head of it against her cunt, rubbing it across her clit a few times. Finally, he sinks into her with a groan, pressing his elbows into the bed above her shoulders.

"You can feel how much I like you, right?" He asks in a low voice, just as he pulls nearly all the way out of her and sinks in again, but he doesn't just mean how hard his cock is. He wants her to feel it in the way his breath shakes and his heart pounds and his fingertips tremble when they touch her. He wants her to feel how much that love his a part of him, how it's seeped into every bit.

“I can,” she promises, her hand sliding down his back as he sinks into her. She gasps softly, because even after multiple orgasms, she feels tight around him and she loves how it feels, that stretch that comes with being filled. Specifically, she loves how it feels with him. It’s different with Steve and she knows she doesn’t have much to compare it to, but she still knows it’s different. Better.

The way he’s lying on top of her brings their faces close together, close enough that she can feel his breath on her cheek and she touches his face with one hand, then pushes back the thick fall of his hair.

“I really love you,” she murmurs as she tilts her hips to let him sink deeper into her.

"I know you do," Steve murmurs, and he really means it. He spent almost his entire life worried about what people thought of him, always so concerned that no one would love him, especially after everything with Nancy. But he knows that Maeve does. He was never entirely sure of how someone felt about him until her.

"You're not alone in it. I'm right here with you," he assures her, grunting softly as he rolls his hips, pulling nearly all the way out of her before plunging back in slowly, thighs trembling with exertion. "It's me and you, sweetheart. You're my family."

Those words are like a knife in her heart in a way that somehow feels good and Maeve gasps as Steve pushes into her again. Her actual family, it's not great. More than just not great, honestly, kind of the worst. But she has a different family here now.

She has Steve.

"Yes," she breathes, tilting her hips up further, inviting him in deeper. She wraps her leg around him, foot pressing into the back of his thigh. "I am."

Maeve rocks her hips and Steve lets out a groan, sliding his hand up between her shoulders to lift her as he shifts back onto his haunches, pulling her down onto him. He reaches out to grip the headboard with one hand while he holds onto her with the other, rocking up into her as he presses his face into her neck.

He wants to tell her how much she means to him, come up with dramatic prose like something out of one of the old books she likes, but he isn't good at that sort of thing at the best of times. Now, he can't seem to form words at all, so he fucks her desperately, hoping that she'll feel it in his body, and the way he kisses her.

It's easy to let Steve guide her, move her where he wants, and it's easy to go. She shifts forward, sinking onto him, a gasp spilling out of her as she wraps her arms around him and holds tight. After a moment, her embrace relaxes a little and she leans back, giving them both leverage to move.

"I love you," she whispers again, speaking into his mouth as they kiss. They're sharing breath and she can feel Steve every time his chest heaves, every time he gasps, every time she does. Her thighs tighten as she rocks into his lap, holding onto his shoulders, one hand sliding into his hair to grip tight.

She doesn't want to let him go. Not for anything.

"I love you," he echoes, kissing her again as he wraps his arm more securely around her waist so that he can fuck up into her a little harder. He feels a white-hot pressure in his groin that tells him that he's close, but he wants her there with him. In this position, he can't really get his arm between them without tipping them backward, so he pulls back enough to press their foreheads together.

"Can you touch yourself for me?" He pants out, angling his hips until he's sure by the sounds that she makes that he's striking her g-spot each time, over and over again. "I want to feel you come."

It used to be so difficult for her to say. The words felt stuck in her mouth, her tongue dry like sandpaper, her throat lined with barbed wire whenever she tried to tell someone she cared. With Steve, they just come out. They sound natural. What she still doesn't know how to say is how much that means to her, so she just holds him tighter.

At his request, she shifts, gasping at the thrust of his hips, the way his cock hits inside of her. Then she gets her hand between their bodies, her fingers moving toward her clit, rubbing just how she likes it.

It doesn't take long at all. She's overwhelmed with emotion, with pleasure, and it's a few seconds, not much more, then she's coming, her muscles clenching tight around Steve as she gasps.

Sometimes Maeve comes with these little whimpers, like she’s overwhelmed by it, so Steve just holds onto her, one hand at the back of her head as he shushes her gently, lips pressed to her ear. She’s shaking, trembling against him as her cunt spasms around him, and Steve shuts his eyes tight, taking a moment to revel in the sensation because it’s perfect, so fucking perfect.

He tips forward, planting one hand against the wall and holding Maeve up with the other, thrusting up hard to bury himself inside of her as he comes with a shout, spilling into the condom. It seems to go on and on, leaving him shaking right along with her, and he lowers her down carefully to the bed, wincing a little as his cock slips out of her.

He takes care of the condom in a daze, removing it and tying it off before it can leak, and tossed it in the vicinity of the trash can before settling down at her side, breathing hard against her chest where he rests his head.

Even as Steve settles, she's still breathing hard. Her skin is damp, beads of sweat at her hairline, between her breasts, and when Steve lies down against her, she runs her fingers through his hair and finds it damp, too. She loves these moments for the first time with him. Before, she'd found them uncomfortable, difficult, she'd wanted to get up and leave.

Moments like this were too vulnerable. She had felt exposed. She still does, but it doesn't scare her as much anymore.

"Hey," she says, her voice soft as she combs her fingers through his hair slowly, nails lightly rubbing against his scalp.

For a long moment, Steve just lays there and listens to her breathing, feels the rise and fall of her chest under his cheek, her fingers in his hair, eyes closed. It's peaceful and nice, and Steve lifts his head when Maeve breaks the comfortable silence.

"Hey, beautiful," he replies with a soft smile, lifting his head to give her a soft kiss on the mouth, cupping her cheek with one hand. "I really love you, y'know."

"I know," she says.

And she does. It isn't something she's always been able to trust, what someone claims they feel for her. Too often, they haven't been able to behave in a way that reflected their words, but Steve does. Steve doesn't just say he loves her, he acts like it, too.

That means more to her than just the words do.

"I love you, too," she murmurs with a small smile.

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