it’s the holidays, and steve’s parents invited yours to stay at the harrington house for the week—your mom and dad tucked away in the guest room right next door, thin walls doing nothing to muffle the quiet of the sleeping house.
your cheek is smushed against steve’s bare chest, one of his arms slung heavy and possessive across your lower back, fingers lazily tracing the waistband of his sweats you stole.
you’re half-asleep, breathing slow, when you feel it: the subtle roll of his hips. just once. testing. then again. harder.
“stevie…?” you mumble, voice tiny, still syrupy with sleep.
“shhh. go back to sleep, baby.” his tone is so soft it almost sounds sweet. almost. but his hand has already slipped under the elastic, palm flattening over your ass, kneading slow and deliberate. “just getting comfy.”
you squirm a little—instinct more than protest—and he chuckles low against your hair, the sound vibrating through his ribs into your cheek.
“you’re so fuckin’ cute when you’re all drowsy and stupid,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “makes me wanna ruin you twice as bad.”
you just feel the heat crawl up your neck while his fingers dip lower, finding you already embarrassingly slick between your thighs from nothing more than his body heat and the gravel in his voice.
“steve—”
“quiet.” he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t need to. the word lands like a hand around your throat. “you’re gonna wake the whole house whining like that.”
you bite your lip hard enough to taste copper.
he shifts you like you weigh nothing—rolls you onto your stomach, then drags your hips up so your cheek stays pressed to his pillow that smells like his shampoo and cigarette smoke he swears he quit. your knees slide apart automatically. you don’t even realize you’re doing it until he hums approvingly.
“good girl. look at you. brain’s not even on yet and your cunt’s already begging for it.”
he doesn’t pull your sweats all the way off—just yanks them down to mid-thigh, enough to trap your legs together. makes everything feel tighter, more obscene. you hear the wet sound of him spitting into his palm, then the slick noise of him stroking himself once, twice, before he notches against you.
“deep breath, honey,” he coos, voice dripping fake tenderness. “you always forget how big it is.”
he doesn’t wait for the breath.
he pushes in slow—so slow—until your fingers twist in his sheets and a pathetic little sob bubbles out of you. he groans like he’s in pain, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.
“fuck… there she is. that tight little thing still thinks it can keep me out.” he rocks forward another inch, stretching you open while you whimper into the pillow. “but we both know it can’t, right? we both know this pussy was made to take me.”
you’re shaking. not from pain—though it burns, god it burns—but from the humiliating way your body just… gives up. opens for him like it’s been trained. you feel so small under him, so stupidly full already and he’s not even halfway in.
he pulls back just to watch the way you clench around nothing, then sinks in deeper on the next thrust, bottoming out with a grunt.
“there we go,” he breathes against the nape of your neck. “all the way in that innocent little belly. feel that?”
you nod frantically, tears pricking your lashes. you do feel it. you feel everything. the way the head of him kisses your cervix, the way your walls flutter uselessly trying to push him out even though you’re dripping down your thighs.
he starts fucking you slow—mean slow. long, deep drags that make wet, filthy sounds fill the quiet room. every time you try to muffle yourself he reaches around, two fingers hooking into your mouth like a gag.
“nuh-uh. let me hear it. let me hear how my sweet dumb baby sounds when she’s getting her cunt rearranged at three in the morning.”
you drool around his fingers. you can’t help it. he laughs and speeds up just enough to make the headboard tap the wall once, twice, before he catches it with his palm and holds it still.
“careful,” he whispers, lips against your ear. “wouldn’t want your parents to know their good girl’s getting bred like a needy little bitch in my childhood bedroom, would we?”
the words hit like a slap. your whole body locks up, clenching so hard around him he curses under his breath.
“yeah… yeah, there it is.” he’s panting now, losing the slow control. “you love it when i talk to you like this, huh? makes you so fuckin’ wet i can feel it dripping down my balls.”
he pulls his fingers from your mouth, smears the spit across your cheek, then grips your jaw, turning your face so he can see the tears and the flush and the way your eyes have gone glassy.
“say it,” he orders quietly. “say ‘thank you for fucking me, steve’.”
your voice cracks, barely audible. “th-thank you for fucking me, stevie…”
he groans like you’ve wounded him, slams in hard once—hard enough that your teeth click together—then goes back to that devastating slow grind.
“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your crying eye. “so polite even when i’m balls deep in your guts.”
he keeps you like that for what feels like forever—slow, nasty, whispering the filthiest things into your hair while his hand slips between your legs to rub messy circles over your clit until you’re trembling, sobbing, coming so hard you almost black out.
he doesn’t pull out when he finishes. just presses in as deep as humanly possible and stays there, pulsing, filling you up while he strokes your spine like you’re something precious.
“stay,” he mumbles when you try to shift. “keep me warm. you’re so good at it.”
you’re still sniffling, still shaking, still leaking him when he finally rolls you both onto your sides again, tucking you back against his chest like nothing happened. like he didn’t just spend forty minutes dismantling you.
summary: the summer starts off with a hit, and you and steve are better and as complicated as ever. you let loose with steve after he gets in his head about relationships - maybe a little too loose.
series masterlist:
authors note: hi season three!!! starting off with a big one!
prev:
late june, 1985
the year had gone by in a blur.
you hadn't expect it to - after everything that had happened in the fall, you had sort of expected your senior year to be the longest, most eventful one of your life.
but the remainder of '84 and first half of '85 was as normal as could be. well, mostly, at least.
after everything that had happened at the start of the year, you had revoked all your applications. it wasn't something you had ever expected to do - you know, step out of the mold - but it felt right with everything that had happened.
you weren't ready for college - weren't ready to leave hawkins yet.
it helped that steve was staying. while you were only taking a gap year, steve had decided to forgo college all together.
you at first tried to convince him to consider it, to just take a gap year like you and go to whatever university you ended up at, but he insisted he wouldn't be able to get into a good school like you, and didn't want to hold you back.
beside, he was done with school. after he had stopped trying around the time high school started, school had become useless to him.
his parents were furious, though, his dad especially - so much so they essentially cut him off. he was still living at home for now, but his parents, other than pure necessities, weren't spending a dime on their only son.
it made you livid.
he was doing fine for himself though. he had gotten a job at an ice cream store at the new mall that had opened up in the spring, and he liked it, you thought.
it certainly didn't hurt that you visited quite often due to your now excessive free time.
your parents, unlike steves, hadn't forced you to get a job straight out of the gate. they were hesitant about your decision at first, but once you assured them that your plan was to absolutely end up at school after the year is up, they welcomed it.
although they weren't forcing you to work, you had made the decision to get a job once the year started up. it certainly wouldn't hurt to get some work experience, and it was only june and you were already bored, so it would be nice to fill up the time.
anyways, you spent most of your days with steve, as you usually do during the summer. the only caveat being his new job, but you worked your way around it, visiting him throughout the days and hanging out after his shift is up.
it aslo helped that you really hit it off with his co-worker robin - much to his dismay.
the vibrant colors of the mall greeted you as you practically skipped through the entrance, taking the escalators down to scoops ahoy.
"-the following weekends' better for me, anyways."
"uh...no, im sorry, i cant."
you wince, a sharp sting washing over you - one that had dulled over time after all the different attempts from steve you had witnessed over the past eight or so months. you smile thinly at the two girls walking away from the counter, who had clearly rejected your best friends terrible advances.
he's about to call back out to them, lips opening and shutting like a fish, but he gives up, shaking his head dejectedly.
you almost giggle when you see him. the sailor costume was ridiculous. but also hilarious - for you, at least.
you sigh softly, scrunching your nose at him. "you'll get 'em next time, stevie," you hold yourself back from smiling, rounding over to sit on the counter between the supply room and the register.
robin appears behind you, sliding her white board next to you, a table with one side labeled you rule and the other you suck - the latter having five tallies, the former having zero. "and another one bites the dust. you are oh-for-six, popeye," she mocks, drawing another tally in the you suck section.
you bite your lip, holding back your laughter at her ridicule. steve crosses his arm, turning around to face the two of you, smiling sarcastically. "yeah, yeah i can count."
you raise you brows at him teasingly. "you know that means you suck, right?"
he tilts his head at you, tongue poking his lower lip. "yeah, i can read too, thank you princess."
"since when?" robin quickly quips, causing you to snicker as you throw each other amused looks.
he steps towards the two of you, impassioned. "its this stupid hat, i'm telling you, it's totally blowing my best feature."
you squint. "you really think your hair is your best feature?"
he looks at you, confused. "yeah, what else would it be?"
you let out a small laugh. "how about your personality?"
he shrugs. "whatever, you know what i mean."
robin leans forward, blowing out a breath. "you know, its a crazy idea, but have you considered...telling the truth?"
"oh, you mean, that i couldn't even get into tech and my douchebag dads trying to teach me a lesson, i make three bucks an hour, and i have no future? that truth?"
you sigh softly, placing an arm on his shoulder. "we're mostly joking, steve."
robin shrugs. "im not."
you throw her a brief look before returning your attention to him, eyes sincere. "i'm mostly joking. you're a catch, steve, you'll find the right girl eventually."
his lips tilt up, eyes filled with gratitude. he places his hand on your lower thigh, giving it an appreciative squeeze before the moment is interrupted by robin whose eyes were trained ahead of you two.
"hey, twelve o'clock."
both of you turn to look, seeing a group of pretty girls walk in. you swallow, deflating.
steves hands absentmindedly slips from your thigh as he looks down, features concentrated.
"oh shit, oh shit. ok...uh...i'm going in," he nods to himself, speaking lowly. he turns to you, eyes wide. "you'll stick around until my shift is done?"
you nod, smile strained. "yeah, yeah of course."
he nods, turning his attention back to robin. "screw company policy," he states, tossing off his hat.
"oh my god, you're a whole new man," she sarcastically exclaims, turning to you expecting a laugh, but you didn't have it in you to give more than a weakly amused smile.
you thought that maybe you should've been jealous over steve and robins dynamic - him spending so much time with another girl or whatever. but you felt surprisingly chill about it.
maybe it was because you were still sorting out your feelings for him, and you didn't have room to even think about another thing. maybe it was just that clear that the dynamic between them was platonic - regardless, you weren't fussed.
steves relentless flirting attempts, however, had you bothered.
never outwardly, of course, but inside, you were seething. if you thought you didn't like seeing him with nancy, now it was even worse. this was the worst.
your flip your legs around, sliding off the counter on robins side, sitting at the table, getting as far away from steves flirting as you could. you kick your feet up, turning to robin, seeing her eyeing you curiously.
you narrow your eyes. "what?"
she considers you for a moment, but dissmisses whatever she was thinking of with a hum and a wave of a hand, walking over to sit across from you. "nothing, i guess."
★
"ew, steve," you say, nose scrunching as you watch him take a large sip straight from a grey goose bottle you two had found in his dads secret stash in the garage.
he pulls it away from his lips, flopping onto the his bed. it was later that day, and after work you guys had driven to steves empty house, due to his parents being out of town.
he sighs, head lolling against the headboard. "i'm never going to get a date."
you sigh, grabbing the bottle from his hands, sitting down next to him. you take a long sip before replying. "thats not true, steve."
he groans. "it so is. i think i just have to accept that i've lost it."
"lost what?"
he shrugs. "my charm."
you shake your head, turning it to look at him. "you haven't lost your charm, steve. you're just...maybe you're just not the same person you were in high school - you know, like, king steve, or whatever" you shrug. "maybe thats not the worst thing."
he sighs. "yeah, sure, but then how do i get a girlfriend?"
you groan, letting out a small laugh. "steve, you know i love you, but if we keep talking about this i'm going to rip my own hair out."
he lets out a breathy laugh. "shit, your right, i'm sorry. its not the end of the world," he sits up a bit, grabbing the bottle from your hands. "its just..."
you look up at him, still leaned against the wall. his hair was messier than intended, cheeks flushed as a tell-tale sign the alcohol is doing its job.
"just what?" you ask quietly.
his jaw clenches, and he looks down at the bottle, lazily swinging back and forth between he brings it up to his lips. you're silent as he drinks.
"its just...y'know, when i was with nancy, i thought that...that it was how relationships were supposed to feel. like...like steady, and easy, and...and simple. and maybe they are, who am i to say," he shakes his head, still looking down. "its just that i thought i was, like, totally in love with her, but..."
your breath hitches, body stilling. "but...?"
his lips twitch, his eyes darting to different things around the room, never to you. "...but i don't think thats what love feels like. i don't think that we...that we were in love."
you nod contemplatively, humming softly. "what makes you think that?"
he swallows. "i dunno, i guess...i guess something she said, when we had that fight on halloween," he shakes his head, finally looking at you. "its not important."
you want to ask further, but you don't want to push when he clearly was finished talking about it. you nod, eyes darting across his features before you abruptly stand up in front of him.
he looks up at you, confused. you tipsily smile down at him, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "do you want to keep moping all night or do something fun?"
his lips tilt up, but his brows are still pinched in confusion. "what do you have in mind?"
you walk over to his desk, ruffling through his drawers before your hands find a particular tape. you turn to grin over at him before putting the tape into his player.
i melt with you begins to pour from the speaker, and steve smiles, shaking his head as you walk towards him, hips swaying to the beat, pulling him up to stand. he groans as if he's annoyed, but the pure smile on his face proved otherwise.
the two of you jump around his room, vodka running through your blood, making your heads feel dizzy in the best possible way. you sing the lyrics to each other, syncing dramatically like your in one of those mtv music videos you see on the tv.
your hands are on his shoulders, his arms, in the air, and his are pretty much everywhere - cupping your face as he sings to you, on your waist and hips, picking you up and spinning you around as you laugh wildly.
moments like these with steve felt like heaven - you felt so comfortable around him, so free to just let go and look stupid without fear of judgement.
the alcohol was a shield, an excuse to touch each other in ways you probably shouldn't, ways that probably didn't fit in the platonic mold. it let you pour just a little bit of your heart out, without it being too real.
its not long after and your sitting on the floor, your back against the wall and his against the bed, the song drive by the cars now playing - apparently what you had put into his cassette player was a mixtape. you're passing back and forth the near-empty bottle, taking turns drinking from it.
you have a lazy smile on your face as you gaze at him, probably for too long. he catches on, brows pinching just a bit. "what?" he asks, lips tilted in an almost smile, eyes hazy as he looks back at you.
you don't respond, your intoxicated smile never leaving. he shakes his head after a moment. "you're so weird," he comments, fondness tainting his words.
he stumbles as he stands up, laughing to himself and uttering a quiet, "woah," holding his hand up to help you up. you grab onto it, slowly standing up, abandoning the practically finished bottle on the floor. steve takes a seat on his bed, flopping onto his back, and you follow, laying on your side, facing him.
you tilt your head, looking at him. he looked really good. you get an idea, sloppily sitting up and grabbing his polaroid from his side table. you flop back down, causing steve to look over at you, a subtle furrow in his brows as you hold the camera up to you face, aiming it at him.
the corners of his lips lift up. "what're you doing'?" he murmurs, words a slight slur, cut off halfway through by the flash. you take the strip of paper out, drunkly shaking it around, leaning over to place it on the floor - which in hindsight, didn't make much sense, but it was the nearest flat surface.
he shakes his head, grabbing the camera from you and de-tangling it from your hands, putting it back on the side table. "weirdo," he laughs, grabbing your waist and helping you sit up.
his thumb wiped under your eye. "y'got a little..." he informs, voice low, probably referring to smudged mascara you really didn't care much about, but the smooth warmth of his thumb felt nice.
your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting to let out a content breath of air. he repeats the action on the other side, both hands cupping your cheeks now.
"tired?" he asks softly. you shake your head. "no, m'good," you reply, eyes opening and landing on him.
you both decide that though you aren't tired yet, you should get ready for bed. your hands reach down to his shirt, lifting it over his head. you do the same to yours, leaving you only in your denim shorts and bra.
you usually didn't really care about getting changed when steve was in the room, but you normally both looked away. in your intoxicated state, though, that didn't cross either of your minds.
it wasn't long before you were both in your underwear, the two of you giggling over nothing as you changed. at one point steve had gotten up, switching off the lights and throwing both of your clothes somewhere in the room.
steve helps you tug his discarded shirt over your head, laughing when your head pokes through. you, in your drunken mind, shamelessly ogled him - the way his arms flexed, how defined his abs had gotten over time. you couldn't help it. and besides, you wanted to take advantage of your state, an excuse to take him in.
he groans softly, wrapping his arms around you and flopping you both onto the bed. you let out a surprised gasp at the action, and he begins to place slobbery pecks all over your face. you giggle as he does so, squinting, hands placed firmly on his chest, squirming.
"steve," you complain between laughter, hands squeezing his bare waist. his lips move down to your neck, his elbows propped up by your head softening, his body relaxing into your side.
his lips slow, pressing softer and long kisses against your skin. even in your influenced condition, your heart started beating faster, your whole body feeling hot.
your hands were still on his waist, but your fingers softened their grip, nails softly scratching his skin, rounding to his back. he let out a soft hum against you, causing you to subconsciously shift closer.
"you're so warm," he mutters, lips pulling away. you hum, switching to have your face nestle into his neck.
you couldn't really remember what happened next, all you knew was you ended up under his covers, body intertwined, hardly caring you would wake up with a splitting headache, because you had steve right next to you, and for once when you were around him, your mind was blissfully blank.
steve harrington x reader
ever since the Upside Down collapsed, Steve's been dealing with a performance problem. his overactive sex drive begs the question- will you be the one to help him out of this maddening dry spell?
foreword: this Steve is post-ST5 battle but pre-epilogue/career, and as such there may be minor plot spoilers. I’ve done research into PTSD-related erectile dysfunction for writing this fic, but in no way claim to be an expert or to have written the experience perfectly! thanks so much to my cheerleader @rebelfell for plotting via dms with me on this one <3
cw: shifting POVs, Steve has trauma-induced erectile dysfunction, slight angst, sexual shame, former sexual dysfunction (R), wet dream, mentions of PTSD + migraines, Reader has breasts + a vagina, Reader has hair (no other description), allusions to former hookups, oral (both receiving), Big Dick Harrington, deepthroating, the healing power of blowjobs, mdni
wc: 4.4k
steve harrington mlist
Steve’s got a problem.
Of the performance variety.
Ever since the world almost ended two months ago, Steve and his dick have been at odds.
There’s been a general lack of stiffness, for the first time since his pre-pubescent years, and Steve’s starting to go a little insane. He hasn’t had a dry spell this long since he had to don that stupid nylon Scoops uniform, for fuck’s sake- and even then, at least Steve had a right hand and a Playboy to see him through the lonely nights.
Not even Baywatch gets him hard anymore. And that’s a national shame Steve’s taking on himself.
The self-doubt is probably not helping the whole situation, either, but Steve kind of can’t help it. It’s too embarrassing to talk about with his buddies so he’s just sort of stewing in the emotion by himself.
And he’s tried it all- switching up his spank bank material, different music, different positions, more lube, less, a meditation tape for christ’s sake-
Steve’s rope is starting to fray at the edges. It’s maddening. He feels wound tight, jumpy, hot under the collar at the drop of a hat but unable to do anything about it.
And then, you come into his life.
Steve finds his purpose pretty quickly.
The first time he comes over to your place, he doesn’t overthink it at all when you plop yourself into his lap halfway through a Cheers rerun- he lets his mind quiet and his body do what comes naturally.
Kissing you breathless, sucking bites into your neck, following you down onto the couch. It all flows so smoothly, muscle memory engaged as Steve helps you out of your shirt and dips to take your breast in his mouth and you moan so sweetly he feels his cheeks heat.
Though there’s a dull connection with anything south of his belt, Steve really enjoys himself with you. Takes his time with it. Gets to know your pussy. He’s always loved this part of sex, making his partner feel good with just his mouth and fingers, getting to see and feel and taste close up the evidence of their arousal.
Steve eats you out like he’s been starved for your cunt alone. Grinding his hips into the cushion mindlessly as your own hips jerk towards his mouth; his tongue does all the talking. Buried all the way inside of you, nose brushing your clit, he shakes his head gently back and forth.
Your thighs tremble something fierce around his ears, and Steve is sort of obsessed with how responsive you are. Some girls he’s been with were real shy about getting eaten out, but here you are, fingers buried in his hair and no sign of letting up.
Steve’s focused solely on your pleasure so he only distantly registers the tingling feeling of bloodflow, warm behind his zipper; when you come with the next pass of his wet thumb over your clit, he moans into the spasm of your walls and realizes this has him half-hard.
For the first time in two months, Steve Harrington has a beautiful person in his lap and a cock at half mast, but there’s still something that lingers like a shadow over his self-confidence.
Your hand trails down his chest, a smile coy and wanting to match.
Steve’s heart deflates, along with his partially formed erection, balking at the idea of having to maintain it in front of you.
He keeps his groan of frustration inward and instead plays it off, giving you one of his most winning, charming grins- “Don’t worry about me, honey, already came. Y’tasted so good.”
Then he’s back to kissing you, the lie sitting bitter at the back of his throat.
It’s not like he hasn’t blown a load in his jeans from eating someone out before. A totally plausible explanation. One that Steve is desperate for you to take at face-value- if there’s even the slightest bit of pushback, he’s sure he’ll cave.
You’re too pretty to keep secrets from. He’s barely hanging on as is.
Lucky for him you’d just laughed against his lips, and said, “Well I suppose I’m not one to talk. You had me going in less than three minutes, that’s a new personal best.”
Steve had flushed with pride under your praise. He spends the rest of the night cuddling you to the drone of the TV, and goes home with the taste of you still hidden in the soft contours of his cheeks.
When Steve wakes in the same twin mattress of his parent’s empty house, he feels a little off. More breathy than usual, too warm-
and then he feels the tacky dampness in his briefs. Evidence of a wet dream that he wasn’t even conscious for, the phantom ghost of your lips around his cock wavering in and out of the recesses of his sleepy vision.
Steve sighs, more whiny than he’s used to. He snakes a hand underneath the band of his underwear and strokes a palm over his softened length, giving a couple tugs with the added lubrication.
There’s no response, like a sex wire has been snipped somewhere deep in his psyche.
Well. At least he knows now that he’s not totally broken. Just in need of a mysterious tune up.
___
You’re pretty sure Steve’s not attracted to you.
Sure, the guy goes down on you like a world class champion of pussy eating, and his head game is far superior to any other hookup you’ve had in recent memory.
But that’s all he’s willing to do with you.
Three times, now, he’s brushed you off afterwards with a weak excuse for why he isn’t aroused (if he’s going for the came too soon angle there would really be more evidence of that).
It’s really too bad. You’d love to keep his mouth around, but don’t quite feel it’s fair to Steve if you continue seeing him, as the guy just seems too sweet to say aloud the awkward truth of the matter.
So the next time you’re over at his place, and he leans across the couch cushions to kiss you, your hand plants itself against the front of his polo and you let him down. Easy.
“Listen- it’s okay if you’re not into this.”
Steve looks bewildered, doe eyes flicking between yours like he’s trying to read your mind. “Not… into this?”
“Not into me, I mean.” You shrug, even though the words sting a bit. Better to get it all out into the open. “I just- I’d prefer to cut you loose now, rather than later down the line when feelings might tangle us up.”
“Hold on.” Steve is genuinely baffled, blinking fast, his heart rate under your palm quickening. “What makes you think I’m not into you? Am I not- was it not good? The- when I ate you out?”
“No,” you shake your head, a dry chuckle forming before you can stop it. “That’s definitely not the issue here. You’re great at oral. It’s just… you don’t seem like you- like you’re enjoying it. For yourself. Y’know?”
It’s a slightly clumsy way to bring up the topic but it seems to land with Steve, who withdraws, sinking into the couchback and scrubbing an open hand through his chestnut strands.
He looks so embarrassed and dismayed that it ripples through you like a physical ache. You scooch closer, aligning your thigh to the outside of his, letting your arm sling around his nearest shoulder and patting at his chest again in soothing rhythm.
“It’s really okay, Steve.” And you mean it. Steve is a great guy, and he’s made you feel so good- he deserves to be with someone who makes him feel the same. “No hard feelings on my end. I want you to-”
“Hang on.” Steve interrupts. There’s a flush of pink at his cheeks. “I need to tell you something. You gotta know, it’s not you.”
You wait for him to continue, patient and quiet. Hand still sweeping comfort at the inside of his shoulder.
Steve blows out a breath, sounding strained and uncomfortable. “After the attacks, all the- the Upside Down bullshit. I started having problems with my- with…” He gestures vaguely to his lap, like even the words might be too much to say. “I can’t keep it up. Which is, uh- very much a new problem for me.”
He chuckles dryly, a mirror of your own from earlier. He still won’t look at you as he admits- “And ‘cuz it was so new, and so stupid, I didn’t know how to tell you. Not without fucking things up, which. I guess I already have.”
Everything clicks into place regarding his strange behavior the past few weeks. Honestly, it’s a relief to know the real issue.
“Hey.” You squeeze his trapezius, molding the strung-tight muscle under your thumb. Steve leans into your touch as you say carefully, “Thank you for telling me. Really. I appreciate it. And also, it’s so not stupid.”
Steve’s eyes flick to yours. Questioning and hopeful. “...yeah?”
“Yeah. I had similar- ah- finishing issues. After the earthquakes, especially. It was like my mind and my body were living in two separate spaces.”
Steve can’t seem to look anywhere but at you now, as he drinks this information in. His wide, warm palm smooths over the thigh of your jeans. “Shit. No kidding. How’d you… fix it?”
Even though there’s a shared thread of post-trauma intimacy between the two of you, it feels a bit sticky to talk about, still. You steel your nerves, staring at the perfect cluster of moles on the side of Steve’s neck instead of his face.
“I’m not sure it is totally fixed. But, I just- I took my time. Learned to be kind to myself through the dry season. And then-”
Here, you lift your eyes to meet Steve’s intense gaze. “-I met a guy who should get a gold medal in pussy easting. And that kind of lifted the spell for me.”
You have the pleasure of watching Steve's face break open in a grin so wide, it might as well be a sunbeam. He lifts your hand from his shoulder to kiss over your knuckles, one by one. “Wow. No kiddin’.”
And then Steve’s kissing you again, and fuck is he ever so good at it.
Tongue twining with yours, exploring along the roof of your mouth, lips slotted and reforming into new shapes that pull you closer in. Steve always kisses you like it’s his last chance, like it’s a Hail Mary before the end.
Maybe that’s part of the problem.
You allow him to lead as usual, but take it slower than you normally would- letting your touches trail everywhere, across the width of his shoulders, down his back, under his shirt. Steve’s panting by the time you pull the fabric over his head, as you stare unabashed at his torso.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you murmur, sliding your fingers through the thatch of hair at his chest, watching with fascination when his abs clench in response to your fingertips.
He exhales into the side of your neck. Plants another kiss there and lets himself be touched. “Says you.”
There’s a tantalizing treasure trail disappearing behind the button of his jeans that you’d love nothing more than to follow but for now you swing yourself into Steve’s lap, grinding your hips down and forward with a slow rock.
“This okay?” You ask, and giggle when Steve nods so quickly you hear his neck creak.
His hands roam the length of your body, slipping under your shirt, groaning as he takes two handfuls of your tits that are beginning to spill from your bra cups with all the movement. “Jesus. Can I see you?”
You nod. Slow and steady. Grin turning sultry as he helps you out of the shirt.
“Fuck.” Steve’s pupils are two huge, glittering pools of lust as he tips forward, hands slipping to your low back to hold your torso to his and burying his face into the soft landing of your cleavage.
“Fuck,” he says again, the word muffled as he mouths over each of your breasts in turn. “So pretty. God.”
Your pelvis is aligned with Steve’s, and the next time you rotate down, grinding into him, there’s the suggestion of a bulge forming beneath the V of his legs. You feel it again on the next rock forwards, as your arms slide to Steve’s freckled shoulders, as your teeth catch at his earlobe and you can feel the helpless jolt forward of his hips.
“What if we just tried,” you whisper at his ear, another distracting roll of your hips, his lashes sweeping at your cheek. “What if you let me try sucking you off, hm?”
His breath kicks up again, hands tightening around your waist, even as you continue in a low, soothing voice- “I know it takes a lot of trust for something like this. But I promise I won’t be upset, whatever happens, however your body feels- we can always take a break, you just say when and I’ll-”
Steve raises a hand to the side of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss. It’s sloppy and there’s a clash of teeth, which makes you whimper, Steve making one of his own in response; his voice is choked with emotion and raw constraint as he agrees.
“Yeah, sweetheart, yes- okay. I trust you. That’d be- let’s try. I wanna try.”
You kiss down the line of his neck, his collarbone, chest hair pleasantly scratchy at the soft press of your lips as you keep working your way south, eventually sliding from his lap to kneel on the carpet between the split of his legs.
“I really mean it.” You run your hands along the tops of his thighs, a path repeated with new motions each time- a thumb digging into the ditch of his knee, fingers trailing just that much higher towards his zipper on the return. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t mind if you can’t stay hard or if you don’t come- I just really want to feel you in my mouth.”
Steve is watching you through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized, the flush at his cheeks creeping up to his ears, to the hollow of his throat, splotchy at the skin of his chest as it heaves and stutters with breath. “Jesus, angel. Can do whatever you want to me.”
Your wicked grin is back as you pull the zipper of Steve’s jeans down. It’s loud in the otherwise quiet living room, and Steve swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he lifts his hips to help you shove the waistband of his jeans down and off.
Then there’s just the black fabric of his briefs, stretched tight over the generous width of his upper thighs and the bulge between them.
Even now, you take your time- pressing kisses to the inside of his thighs, grazing your teeth against the hair under his navel, teasing your touch beneath the band of his underwear.
Steve is letting small whines escape, punctuating every touch of your hands and mouth. His hands lift from their death grip on the cushion towards your face and then hover, helplessly, before snapping back to the couch as you rub your cheek against the outline of his cock.
You’re pretty sure he’s about halfway to fully hard, which is heartening, but you still want to keep the emotional pressure from entering his head.
So you say nothing about it and instead let your mouth do the talking.
Your lips press a steady line over his clothed length, exploring, getting to know the feel of him with your touch before your eyes get to fill in the blanks.
When you suck at the head of his cock with learned precision, Steve’s thighs tighten and tremble under your palms. He hisses, then whines, then swears- “Oh, jesus. Fuck. That feels so good.”
“Good,” you murmur, using the outline of him to map your way back down, nosing into the soft space between his cock and sac. “Tell me if anything doesn’t, okay?”
Your mouth closes over one of his balls, and there’s a thunk above you- Steve’s head hitting the wall. You’re careful with the tender skin behind the fabric, running your tongue along the round shape before letting him pop free of your mouth.
When you pull back to ease his briefs off, Steve is watching you down the line of that beautiful Roman nose. His brows are knotted together, eyes hazy with pleasure. His right hand lifts, this time to cup your cheek.
Your suspicions were correct- even partially erect, Steve’s cock is huge. Easily packing more girth and length than any person you’ve ever been with, by far.
“Holy shit, Steve.” Your first reaction is an honest, shocked gasp, hands slipping to his inner thighs as you take him in for the first time. “This is- the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.”
“Charmer,” Steve accuses, but it’s made less casual by the fact that he sounds completely wrecked. “I’m usually- usually harder, by now, it’s-”
“Shhh.” A shake of your head quiets him, but your eyes stay focused on his ever-growing length. There’s a dark green vein along the underside, and he’s filling out slightly to the left, cock nearly weighed down by its own fat head. “Knew you were gonna be perfect. I was right.”
Steve wants to laugh it off but chokes when you lean in to take the bare skin of his cockhead into your mouth. You lap at the fat rim separated from his shaft and suck, the tip of your tongue tracing his slit.
Steve’s panting again, abdomen lurching under your palm. His hand hasn’t left your cheek, so you reach for his wrist, encouraging his fingers to slide to the roots of your hair.
“I don’t mind if you get a bit rough,” you pull off his cock to say, with a wink.
Steve’s jaw drops, momentarily, and when you dip back down to take him again there’s a long moan loosened from his chest, crawling out of his throat with a force of sound that makes your clit pulse.
Steve’s babbling, head thunking backwards again while your head bobs to fit more of him in. Your tongue flattens to accommodate the thickness of his next few inches, and already- even though he’s not at full stiffness- he’s a stretch to take.
The sides of your tongue dig into your molars with the sheer heft of Steve in your mouth, sinking further back, tip leaking salty precum at the back of your throat. You purr around the mouthful and hear Steve grunt in response, his fingers in your hair snagging and tightening.
“You’re so- so good at that- holy fuck, honey-”
Your jaw hinges open far enough to welcome more of him in, cockhead now nestled at the very back of your throat. You take a breath through your nose, then swallow.
Steve’s reaction is immediate and intense- a slew of curses, thighs shaking so hard you wonder if he’s about to come without warning, nails stinging at your scalp; then he’s panting again, like he’s trying to tamp down the wave of pleasure hitting from all sides.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck. You keep that up and- I don’t think I can- hold-”
If your mouth wasn’t full you’d tell him that’s the idea.
___
Steve’s so hard he thinks he might pass out.
Every drop of blood in his system is singing, apparently intent on making up for the lack of stiffies in the past few months by rushing and congregating on a direct path to his crotch.
Steve feels like a part of his soul is leaking steadily out, right into the clutch of your throat.
Nostrils flaring, eyes rolling back in his head, he probably looks fit for a seance. There’s certainly something supernatural about the way he’s filling out in your mouth, soft velvet encasing the hard-as-diamond interior in a way that he simply hasn’t ever felt before.
There’s a throbbing behind his temples, sort of like the beginnings of a migraine, except this time Steve knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’ll go away the second he comes.
An animal, base instinct is swelling, flaring like a bad temper, making hips hips jerk forward despite himself; Steve begins to unwind his fingers from your hair, worried about hurting you- but you hum around his length again, this time in encouragement, vibrations carrying throughout the entirety of Steve’s body.
So he keeps one hand in your hair. The other clutching desperately at your bare shoulder, just to feel the warmth of your skin under his hand as you begin to unravel him.
Steve’s fully hard now, which feels like a triumph in itself. If a stormcloud of interdimensional trauma tried to roll in, Steve is pretty sure he’d simply tip his head back to the sky and let the rain fall.
It’s hard to care about anything other than your soft palette cradling his length, or the feeling of your fingertips against the rippling scar tissue at his side. There’s no room for much else.
Steve’s toes curl into the carpet. The crown of your head dips again, fitting him further in with a new angle that pulls a strangled gasp straight from his lungs. It’s happening so quickly, this time, the edge approaching with a rapidity that truly seems to want to make up for all the grief of the recent months.
You slide him from your mouth just to kiss up the underside of his shaft, your lips wet with his pre as you kiss over the tip, grinning with your tongue out as you catch him watching.
“S’okay,” you assure him, hand sliding slick to the base of his cock, forming a tight ring of perfect pressure that makes Steve’s cock visibly jolt in your grasp. “Don’t think about it. Lemme think for you.”
Steve really, honestly wants to laugh, in a frenzied sort of way that denotes how insane he feels- but then your mouth is engulfing him in that sumptuous heat again, all the way down to meet at your fingers, and suddenly the only sound he’s capable of making is a hoarse cry-
“Jesus- fucking- christ-!”
Another swallow, another twist of your fingers, and Steve feels it- that hook behind his belly button, pulling him in, about to catapult him over the edge.
Everything is so wet, hot and tight, his abs and glutes and quads and every other fucking muscle in his body clenching in time with your rhythm.
He doesn’t have time for a warning, hoping that the sudden hunch forwards of his shoulders and frantic spasming of his fingers against your skull will clue you in.
His cock throbs, jerks, sac drawing up towards your chin, hair flopping over his forehead as he grits his teeth with the overwhelm about to happen.
“Oh, fuck.”
The orgasm hits so sudden and so hard that Steve doesn’t even recognize it, at first, cock pulsing out ropes of cum before the feeling even registers.
When it finally does, it’s like touching a live wire, his entire body thrumming with the energy of it, spilling load after load in steady successions down your throat.
Steve’s lashes flutter, jaw dropping open to loose a wall of noise, incoherent babbling and drunken praise and your name thrown into the mix, sweat beading at his hairline and prickling at his arms.
The pleasure lasts for so long, just keeps unspooling and zipping through every limb, wringing him dry; your mouth slides up along with your hand, still suctioning and dragging him through the tail end of it.
Finally, Steve lets his hands drop to the couch, palms up like an offered prayer, sinking back into the cushions, thoroughly wiped. There’s a high-pitched ringing in his right ear, stars dancing behind his eyelids.
He feels like he’s underwater, but not in a scary Lover’s Lake Hell Gate way- more like a womb. Surrounded by the fizzling ends of an orgasm so good there might’ve been a brief flatline to his heartbeat.
Steve sucks in ragged breaths, tingling everywhere, eyes still closed with the rapture of it all. Distantly, he feels a comforting weight over his thighs, then the rest of his body; he reaches up blindly and finds your back, your waist, wrapping his arms around the settled feeling of you in his lap.
You’re giggling at him, soft and bright and sweet in his ear. Steve tugs one corner of his mouth upwards in response, but that’s about all the energy he has to offer.
You don’t seem to mind, cuddling into his chest, head tucking to fit under his chin, hand smoothing a path down his ribs as he floats slowly back down to earth.
“Wow.” Steve’s surprised he still has a grasp on the English language, but his voice works fine. Maybe even better than before, as if this world-shattering blowjob had healed more than simply his lacking sex track record. “That was. Truly fucking great. Y’got it in one. Fixed me.”
He feels you shudder with laughter in his arms, turning the side of your face towards his neck to plant some gentle kisses there before you say, “You were never broken to begin with. But I’m glad I could help.”
Steve blinks up at the ceiling. He has to hug you tighter in order to stave off tears, which he’ll save for later- after he’s eaten you out so good that you’ll be the one crying next.
theartofmadeline
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
titsay
yousharknotpass
