haplesshairpile | (no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.