haplesshairpile | [for maeve, early september]

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maeve

[for maeve, early september]

Steve knows that not telling Maeve that he's starting classes at the community college is a calculated risk, but he had his reasons, and he thinks that those reasons were worth it, even if she does end up being mad at him. Maybe she won't, maybe she'll understand. He thinks she will, but he also just assumes that he's gonna screw something up.

He hadn't wanted to overwhelm himself right off the bat, and he still has his job at Phoenix to consider, so he signed up for two classes. Now that he's gone to them both and hasn't decided that he's going to quit in shame, he decides that it's time to tell the girl that he's been keeping it from.

On the way to Maeve's place, he stops to get her favorite cookie from a bakery she likes, and then makes another stop to get her coffee. It's not unusual for Steve to bring her treats, which he usually does just because he wants to make her smile, but this time he definitely wants to butter her up a bit.

Thankfully she's home alone, which Steve knows because her roommate was sucking face on the couch with his roommate when he left. Sometimes he thinks that he should bring up the idea of Steve and Rue just switching, but now it feels a little too soon after the Baby Incident.

Once he's outside her door, he takes a deep breath and tilts his head back for a minute, staring at the ceiling like he's saying a silent prayer, and then rolls his shoulders before reaching out to knock on the door.

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"Hey, don't do that," she says, still looking at Steve with care, though her expression has gone lovingly concerned. "You're doing this because you want to, not because you think you have to, and you're bloody smart. You're going to do great."

As he tells her about how it's gone so far, she relaxes into another smile and leans back, head tipped against his shoulder.

"I think that's normal," she says. "College is so different from secondary school. There's nothing to be gained from the teachers being arseholes."

Steve isn't used to people believing in him when he doesn't have a ball in his hand. Maeve's words make him feel so shivery with emotion, and he actually spends a moment feeling guilty for ever thinking that this conversation was going to go any other way. Maeve always believes in him.

"Thank you," he tells her, but the words feel too small for what she gives him, so he wraps his arms around her to pull her into his lap, her back against his chest, ass resting on the insides of his thighs. "God, I love you."

He chuckles softly and ducks his head to press a kiss to the side of her neck, giving her a squeeze before suddenly blowing a raspberry just under her ear.

"Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?" she asks, squirming and laughing at the same time as he vibrates his lips against her skin. There's nothing at all wrong with him, nothing wrong with them, and she wraps her arms over Steve's where they're around her torso.

"I love you, too, even though you're a bloody weirdo," she says, sinking into his lap, leaning against his chest. She's comfortable here, with him, and that means so much to her. Maybe more than Steve knows.

"Oh, so many things," Steve drawls out, grinning and nosing under her ear as she laughs. Maybe he's biased, but he's pretty sure her laugh is the best sound in the world. "But you're stuck with me. No exchanges or refunds."

He's pretty sure that Maeve is it for him, the mythical One, but he isn't sure what to do about it. She said that she might be open to marriage, but it feels like they're too young for that and after all they've been through recently, he thinks that he'd be too raw from the Baby Talk to ask her, too afraid that she would turn him down.

It would be nice if they lived together, waking up together each morning, but he doesn't know if he should ask for that, either. Maybe he doesn't need to do anything at all. He can just love her as hard as he can, and everything else will work out.

"Not even for one of those muscley superhero types?" she asks, tilting her head back to get a better look at Steve. "I've seen that one with the metal arm around Darrow, he's quite handsome."

And so not her type. He's too big. Too broody. Maeve needs to be the one with the bad attitude in a relationship, she doesn't imagine two people who are perpetually grumpy would do anything but make each other worse off in the long run.

She doesn't want to be with anyone else, though, she's sure of that.

"Oh, please. You definitely prefer my hairy chest over all those muscles," Steve teases, looking down at her as he playfully digs his fingers into her sides, tickling her as he kisses the side of her head.

While she's distracted with squirming, Steve shifts out from under her and then gets on top of her, stretching out over her on the sofa. He laughs and tickles her again, leaning in to press kisses under her jaw.

"You want me to put on spandex? Is that it?" He grins and bites gently at her neck, laughing happily. "Or is it the cape that gets you going?"

"Definitely the spandex," she answers, smiling up at him, her lips pulled between her teeth. "It leaves nothing to the imagination. You can see every edge. Every... bulge."

She wrinkles her nose and laughs.

"The cape is just silly," she informs him. "It's going to get caught in things, you'll end up being pulled into an airplane engine if you're the sort who can fly. No capes."

"No capes, but yes to spandex," Steve says , humming as he drags Maeve's shirt up over her bra and casually faceplants into her cleavage, nuzzling between her tits just because he feels like it, biting at the edge of one cup before lifting his head again. "Maybe that'll be my Halloween costume, huh?"

He reaches back behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off, tossing it aside before leaning in to take her face in his hands and give her a lingering kiss. "The first one that comes to mind is Spider-Man, but he's actually here now, so that's probably out."

When he pulls off his shirt, Maeve drags her fingertips against his chest. Steve was right, she much prefers the hair on his chest to any of those muscle bound hairless superhero sorts. There's something sexy about a man with hair on his chest.

"Spider-Man is in Darrow?" she asks. "Have you met him in or out of his suit?"

And does the poor bloke even know he's from a comic book and a whole slew of movies she's never paid much attention to?

"In the suit. I told him that I knew who he was just because it felt weird not to." Steve admits, nose wrinkling as if he's confused by his trajectory of becoming a better person. "I mean, not how I know who he is, because that's a whole weird thing that you can't just dump on someone. He sounds like he's just a kid."

He's somewhat distracted from the conversation by Maeve's blunt nails gliding up and down his chest in a way that seems to be making all the blood in his body rush south, aided by the dizzying relief that they made it through another Hard Thing, even if it didn't turn out to be nearly as hard as Steve anticipated, so to speak.

Steve's gaze dips to her tits again, and the teasing hint of nipple that he can see through the dark lace. He lifts his hand to trace it with the tip of his finger, feeling it stiffen under his touch. "I feel like wearing spandex around you would just be asking for trouble."

"Maybe you should ask Spider-Man how he hides his inevitable erections in his suit," she teases, poking Steve's chest. "If he's a teenager, it probably happens every time he sees a pretty girl. Maybe there's a cup built into the spandex."

She doesn't imagine he'll actually ever do this, wear a superhero costume, but now if he does, even if just for Halloween, she'll have to do everything in her power to see exactly how one deals with an erection in a spandex suit. Just for fun.

"Or would that be an odd question to ask?" She tilts her head, as if she doesn't know.

“Probably. He seemed weirded out that I knew who he was and kind of peaced out on me,” Steve admits, feeling kind of bummed about it because it’s Spider-Man, and who wouldn’t want to be friends with Spider-Man?

He soothes himself by kissing along the edge of her lacy bra cup, and then makes a delighted sound when he notices that this one has a front clasp. He undoes it and sighs happily as her Maeve’s perfect tits spill free, leaning down to nuzzle between them.

“But who needs to be friends with Spider-Man when I have these spectacular tits to hang out with,” Steve declares, realizing what an odd thing that is to say, but he had such a stressful week and he just wants to play with his girlfriend’s boobs.

Steve smiles up at her and then leans down to press kisses along the swell of her breast, then pulls her nipple into his mouth with a soft hum, sucking at it while covering her other tit with his hand. There’s no urgency to it, no real endgame, just Steve exploring.

"Wouldn't you be a little uncomfortable if you had a secret identity and someone in your new home said they knew who you were because you're in comic books and the like?" she asks, even as Steve opens her bra.

This is nice in ways she'd never known before. They're not in any particular rush, it isn't like the times when they're both frantically horny, trying to get undressed. She'd never really understood how nice it can be to take their time, not until Steve.

"Maybe he just needs time to adjust," she says, smoothing Steve's hair back from his forehead as he kisses her breast.

"I didn't tell him how I knew who he was," Steve assures her, because even he's not that dumb. "He probably thinks that I saw it on the news or something."

It's a dumb conversation to have when Maeve's tits are out, but she does make him feel a little reassured. She's really good at that, or maybe it's just that he can't ever feel that bad when Maeve is around. Even if her tits aren't out.

"Yeah, maybe." He smiles up at her and kisses the point of her chin, her mouth, her jaw, covering one breast with his hand and squeezing lazily as he kisses the side of her neck. "Can we stop talking about Spider-Man now?"

"You started it," she points out, even if she's no longer sure whether or not that's the truth. Honestly, it doesn't matter. One of them started it and now Steve is asking to stop it, so she drags one hand up over his back until she can thread her fingers in his hair.

"But we can talk about whatever you'd like," she promises, then bites her lower lip. "Or not talk at all."

She has a fair idea she knows exactly what Steve will choose.

"Oh, yeah?" Steve asks in a low, interested voice, caging her in between his elbows as he stretches out on top of her, propping his chin up on his palm. She bites her lip all cute and coy and Steve stares up at her, blinking slowly like a cat in love and practically purring at how good it feels to have her nails dragging lightly through his hair.

Right now, he'd do whatever Maeve wanted to do. If she closed her bra and said she wanted to go to the damn farmer's market, he'd carry all her bags. He'd happily just sit here and talk, but of course he's happy to not talk, too.

"We could talk a little," he says with a flirty smirk, rocking over to her side to put all his weight on one elbow, leaning against the back of the sofa as he slides his hand down her stomach. He tugs open the button of her pants and chuckles softly as he tugs playfully at the waistband of her tights. "You always have to make it hard for me, don't you?"

“I like knowing you’ll work for it,” she answers, grinning. That’s not the real reason she wears tights, she just likes the look of them, they fit her whole style.

But it’s fun to tease Steve, too.

“It must mean you really like me,” she says, lifting her hips a little at the mere touch. She loves how Steve’s hands feel on her and a shiver slides down her spine.

"I'm gonna go broke replacing these things," he teases, because he's definitely ripped a few pairs in his impatience to get underneath them, but he isn't quite so frenzied right now. He's busy watching Maeve, awed and deeply turned on by the way her hips lift toward his hand. It's almost enough to make him smug, but he's just too happy to be here with her, having her stare up at him like she is, like she adores him.

"Hmm, is that what this means, too?" Steve asks as he slides his hand under tights, pressing his fingers to the front of her cotton panties and finding that there's already a wet spot there. Instead of reaching under them or tugging the scrap of fabric to the side, he just looks down at her and drags the pads of two fingers slowly up and down her slit through her underwear, biting his lip as he feels the cotton getting wet enough to cling to her skin. "That you really like me?"

"You know you don't have to tear them," she points out, as ever, pleased by the fact that she can still speak eloquently even while Steve is touching her like this. It gives her a little sense of power, even if she knows she's being undone by his fingers against her through the fabric of her underwear.

"Hmm, really like you might be a stretch," she teases, biting her lower lip. "Love you? Certainly."

Her hand slips into his hair, tugging gently, tilting his head to one side so she can push up on her other elbow and press her lips to the skin of his throat.

“Oh, but it’s so hot when I tear them,” Steve teases, hooking a finger through the wet front of her underwear and tugging the fabric up a little, dragging it up and putting pressure on her cunt, her clit, before pulling the wet strip aside. His hand stays trapped under the confines of her tights where it’s warm and damp, and Steve tips his head back for her kisses as he gently pinches her clit between two fingers.

He genuinely loves fingering Maeve. He likes the way she squirms when all the attention is on her, and the little sounds she makes, the way she arches her back and gets all needy. He could do this for hours.

“I love you, too,” he says in a low voice, pinching her clit a little harder, for a little longer. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the tight nub and then lets it go once she rewards him with a sexy little whimper. His fingers slide down to hook inside of her, shallowly moving in and out at a lazy pace that he knows will drive her crazy.

“I love how wet you get,” he says against her ear, licking at the shell of it as he moves his fingers harder and faster in and out of her, humming at the slick sound of it. “Your body tells on you.”

"Don't make me lecture you on the inherent misogyny in assuming all people with vaginas can self-lubricate and that it indicates arousal while your fingers are inside of me," Maeve answers, though she's breathless already from what he's doing to her. It indicates arousal for her and she's really only teasing him, but Maeve has a lot of opinions on the matter.

Opinions for another time.

Her teeth graze the column of Steve's throat and she bites down softly at his shoulder as she drags her hand down the front of his chest. With a twist of her wrist, she slips her hand into his jeans without undoing them, as trapped as he is now.

Steve doesn’t ignore her rant, doesn’t roll his eyes, but it does bruise his ego a little to know that she’s still capable of such ire while Steve is working his magic. Maybe he’s not as good at this as he thought?

“Are you really threatening me with a lecture while I’m massaging your clit?” He asks with a soft laugh, sliding his hand out of her pants just as hers slips into his. “Was I talking about all vaginas? No, I was talking about your vagina. Your very wet vagina.”

He laughs again, but it’s not at her expense. It’s an amused sound, and he places his wet hand on her chest, squeezing gently at one of her tits. He plucks at her nipple, getting it wet and slick and watching it shine in the light.

“Does your self-lubricating vagina indicate arousal?” Steve asks, teasing her by keeping his hand on her tits instead of in her tights. “Because it’s really the only vagina that I care about.”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” she asks, grinning up at him, a rare unrestrained smile. Her fingers slip under the elastic of his boxers and she glided them down the length of his cock, enjoying that light touch, the heat of him under her skin. “I’m glad it’s the only one you care about, though.”

Maeve has never worried about Steve cheating on her. It isn’t that she thinks she’s such a catch he wouldn’t be able to find someone better, it’s just that she trusts him. It’s a good feeling, one she’s never really had before.

He’s a good guy, this one, and she’s lucky they’re here together.

“What about this?” she asks, twisting her wrist to get her hand around his cock. “Does this indicate anything?”

"No other vagina could ever possibly compare," Steve tells her, which is a ridiculous thing to say, but he means it. Sure, he can look at another woman and find her attractive, but that's the extent of it. He's never even been tempted to stray.

"What, you think just because my cock gets hard when you touch it, it indicates arousal?" He jokes, but his voice is low and strained because yeah, she's grabbing at his cock.

"You're being very cheeky," Steve tells her, borrowing a bit of her slang as he shifts to lean over her. He slides his hand back down into her underwear and grabs at her cunt, rubbing at her clit with his palm before sliding two fingers into her body. Now, he's determined to make her come and he fingers her just how she likes it, plunging the digits in deep and rubbing hard against that little spot deep inside her, the one that always makes her shake.

"Do you like the dirty talk?" Steve asks, and it's a sincere question even though his hand is working furiously between her legs. He thought she had, at least sometimes, but he wants to make sure that he isn't embarrassing himself.

"And you're being very British," she answers, a soft moan spilling out of her as his fingers press inside. They're both still mostly dressed, hands in each others pants, fumbling a little like teenagers, much younger than they are. She loves it. It makes everything feel new, every touch the first one, and her back arches a little as Steve's fingers curl inside of her.

"I like you," she answers. "You could probably wear a bloody clown costume and I'd still find you sexy."

She loves hearing anything he wants to say in moments like this. Dirty words, her name, moans and gasps. Everything he does only turns her on more and makes her want to make him happy. Her grip around his cock twists, stroking him slowly until she can rub her thumb around the head, collecting pooling beads of liquid.

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