I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck.
summary: What happens after secrets reveal themselves in the dead of night?
WC: 12.6k
warnings: 18+ slow burn, soft soul touching smut, takes place a few months after season five not exactly canon accurate (he still has his beamer), steve is picking up the pieces of his life, reader has no knowledge of upside down, moved back after the military disappears, touch and love starved steve (reader is similar), mild angst, lots of yearning, mentions of holiday sadness, smoking, one bed trope, p in v van sex, scar kissing & touching (steve has scars).
authors note: I don’t how how to express how happy everyone’s reactions and sweet words have made me. I started this the week after volume one aired in a really bad place and spent the last two months writing it and I’m sad and happy to finally let it go. I hope you enjoy it as much as part one 💕✨
✨<- part one // master list
The bright warm light that bleeds through the cracks in your blinds flutters your eyes open with its ivory glow, waking you up first. Steve’s hand is still under your shirt, the long fingers that were once sprawled across your back are now balled up in a lazy fist keeping you pressed to his chest. It’s not like your position is any better though with your face pressed into the crook of his neck, cold hands buried under the warmth of his sweater, fingers curved around his rib cage, while the others are lost in the rough hair of his happy trail.
Last night comes back to you in fuzzy memories, the deep sleep you fell into still hanging heavy like a fog. Whispered secrets, wandering hands and lips that never quite give into what they want overwhelm you as it all starts to come into focus. It warms your cheeks, as the unknown starts to twist, tightening the coil in the pit of your stomach, uncertainty making your palms sweat. Your universe tilting off its access from your spot tucked away inside of Steve’s arms.
“So beautiful.”
The words he whispered in the blue glow of midnight, come rushing back to the forefront of your mind, waking up the butterflies that flutter, stretching their wings in your chest. Glancing down at the end of your bed, the digital clock on your microwave flashes 7:06 AM in bold red numbers. You finally work up enough courage to look up at him.
His eyes move behind closed lids, lost deep in whatever dream he’s having, long lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks. A lighter smattering of freckles reveal themselves from their camouflage in the brighter light under the faintest lines of crows feet, and it makes you wonder if you’ll ever find them all.
The collar of his sweater is pulled down giving you a better look at the scar you noticed on the roof top, your heart thumping a few beats quicker. It looks fully healed but still fresh enough to know whatever happened wasn’t that distant of a memory. Its jagged edges are uneven with silver tips and a pale pink center that gets wider in the middle before tapering off at the ends. It’s hard to resist the urge to reach up and press your lips to it.
He stirs slightly like he can feel the heat of your gaze, so you muster up enough will power to slowly start to untangle yourself from him as carefully as you can no matter how much your body yearns to stay.
There's a desperate need to make him coffee before he wakes up that has every anxious molecule in your body buzzing. It turns your brain into the kind of jittery mess that has you convinced that a perfectly made cup would be the security blanket you need in case he wakes up and regrets every decision that brought him here last night.
Cause coffee will do that, right?
The cold pads of your feet move quietly around the kitchen once you’re free from the warm restraints of his arms, carefully opening cabinets with both hands so they don’t slam shut. You set two travel mugs on the counter as softly as you can, just for the coffee maker to start whirring to life with a loud continuous drip hitting the bottom of the glass pot. Steam blows out from the sides in a low whistle as the water boils going through the filter. It’s loud. So loud.
You cringe, having a silent back and forth with yourself on whether or not you should turn it off, as the rich smell of the beans fills the small space of your apartment. The heat kicks on in a loud hum, and you watch Steve begin to stir in your bed. He grumbles something you can’t understand while still half asleep before turning over with a big hand that reaches across the mattress. He’s searching for you.
He pats around the empty spot where you were not that long ago with his face still buried in his pillow. His movements freeze when he’s met with nothing but the leftover warmth on the sheets, a heavy breath exhaling through his nose before he runs that same hand down his face in an attempt to rub the drowsiness off as he rolls onto his back. Stretching his long legs with a grunt, your heart rate quickens enough that you can feel it pulsing in your wrists because Steve Harrington is waking up in your bed and you almost kissed last night.
Your stomach folds in on itself doing summersaults in preparation for the kind of unchartered territory that comes with a morning after a night like that. An unrelenting fear that after laying himself bare to you, he’d retreat back to his cave and seal it up tighter than before. Leaning against the counter trying to seem nonchalant, your canines bite into your thumb nail, the nervous anticipation of watching him slowly start to sit up bringing back a bad habit.
He rubs the sleep from his eyes with his palms, grumbling like his bones hurt. Your fingers itch at your sides with the need to run through the kind of bed head that has his hair sticking out in almost all directions. The sheer messiness of it has the corners of your lips twisting. He blinks a few times before his eyes finally focus, finding you already staring at him from the kitchen. The blush that paints his cheeks is almost instant, a lazy smile stretching across his face. That’s a good sign.
“Good morning.” He croaks before clearing his throat, face going a deeper shade of crimson because of it.
“Morning.” You squeak, unable to stop the rambling that follows “I’m making coffee — you know, since I promised. I didn’t want you to wake up and not have it, I was just trying to be a good host, but I wasn’t expecting it be so loud I’m really sor —“
“Thank you,” he cuts you off, offering a life line. “You’ve been an amazing host given the circumstances. Feels like — what are those places called? A bed and, and-“
“Breakfast?”
“Yes!” he snaps, nodding with excitement pointing at you, “that!”
“I don’t have breakfast for you though, just coffee.” You pout, hearing the last few drops fill the rest of the pot.
“Same thing.” Steve shrugs, throwing his sock covered feet over the side of your bed, finally running a hand through his hair before standing up.
“Definitely not, but I appreciate your blind support.” You giggle, turning around to turn off the machine taking a deep breath through your nose. Why does it feel like your heart is trying to climb its way out of your throat?
You busy yourself with pouring coffee, secretly thankful to give your nervous hands something to do to distract yourself. The floor boards creak with each step he takes, slow and steady until the wood groans right behind you. Even if it wasn’t for your frozen foundations giving him away, his left over cologne would be enough to tell you that he’s close. The silence that falls between you is charged with the remnants of last night, a burning question dangling in front of you like an eye sore.
What does this mean?
”Don’t mind me, just making sure you’re putting the right amount of sugar in there.” His voice comes out low right next to your ear.
Goosebumps pebble along your skin from the warmth of his breath that fans down the side of your neck. Gentle hands playfully grab at your hips just soft enough to feel his finger tips. It’s timid and unsure, but it's still enough for butterflies to break from the knotted cocoons of your nerves, your lips curving up in the kind of smile that you try to hide ducking your chin down.
“Don’t worry, Steve. I’ll put in half the bag.”
He snorts, the tip of his nose a whisper against the shell of your ear. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the growing urge to just turn around and do what you should have done last night. Kiss him. You don’t though, and by the time you’ve made up your mind he’s giving your hips a gentle squeeze before letting you go.
”I’m gonna go check out the damage and start digging my poor girl out.” Steve sighs, backing away with a card of his hair and you already miss the feeling of him being close. “Can’t have the boss late for work.”
”How about I pour your coffee down the sink?” You turn around with a sarcastic smile that quickly turns into a real one at the wide grin that splits his face in two. The gold in his eyes shimmering in the sunlight.
“Hmm, I think you like me too much for that.” He winks, making your face go gaze meeting the ground.
”There’s the confident guy I knew from high school.” You manage to tease through the nerves that tighten, constricting in your chest but you’re proud of the eyeroll you get in return despite it.
There’s a weird normalcy in the way he shuffles around the apartment in his wrinkled jeans searching for his shoes and coat. Like the secrets shared in the silver glow of the moon are kept hidden under the blankets of stars that disappear once the sun comes out. Everything feels different in the light of day, and the reminder of reality bounces off the blinding reflection of the snow outside.
Steve comes back in the kitchen once his coat is half way zipper up, white teeth gleaming when he sees you already holding out his tumbler for him. Nike covered feet close the distance between you in just two long strides, long fingers brushing with yours when they wrap around the warm metal of the cup. He crowds your space just enough for your back to hit the counter, the smell of leather and coffee invading your senses.
“Thanks, honey.” He breaths, staring down the slope of his nose with a vulnerability in his eyes that feels an awful lot like testing the waters.
Looking up at him from under your lashes, you reach up, pulling the zipper of his jacket all the way to the top.
“Anytime, handsome.”
Maybe those secrets aren’t so hidden after all.
———
Steve’s car creaks and groans with every turn, the plastic of the dash expanding in the heat flowing freely from his vents. The metal of his keys clink as his tires drive through the sloppily plowed roads. It all sounds so loud in the silence that’s settled between you, as words beg to come out from behind sealed lips that won’t let them. Fingers yearning to intertwine but settle for resting just close enough to feel the warmth emanating off of them.
Your gaze wanders in his direction, nervous teeth digging into the fat of your bottom lip. His brows are furrowed, eyes staring out at the road like he’s concentrating but you know after these past few months that's not what’s happening. You wonder what kind of thoughts are racing through that complicated head of his as he runs long fingers through his hair, getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out. A deep breath pushing out through his nose.
“I’m sorry you had to sleep in your jeans last night.” You half joke, willing your tongue to work, mouth relearning how to form sentences breaking the silence.
He looks over at you, confusion painting his features before realization dawns on him and he finally joins you back in reality with a soft laugh.
”It wasn’t so bad.” He shrugs with a lopsided grin, “I mean, am I ready to take them off and not wear pants for the next 24 hours? Yes.”
Your laugh bounces off the foggy windows, echoing in the small space of the car, the sound of it brightening his face, freckle covered cheeks pushing up high.
”Honestly, I don’t blame you.” Smirking, you try to ignore the way warmth spreads through your body at the mental image that tries to worm its way in.
”Yeah, Robin’s just gonna have to deal. I’ll let her take my turn at picking the movie tonight or something, she won’t care about anything after that.” He chuckles, shifting gears letting the tips of his fingers brush your knuckles. Electricity buzzes on every inch of your skin because of it.
”You guys have movie nights?” The idea of them having a weekly tradition swells in your chest, curling the edges of your lips.
”Yeah, it was something we started when we worked at Family Video together a few years ago. It just kinda stuck, probably one of the only things that kept us sane during lockdown, honestly.” He explains with a pretty shade of light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks, removing another rock from his wall in the light of day. “For those two hours every night we could escape to anywhere we wanted.”
”What’s your favorite movie?” You question, trying not to make a big deal about it despite it feeling anything but.
“Oh easy, Top Gun.” He snorts like it’s a no brainer, “Danger zone? Are you kidding? Another classic.”
”I’m going to assume that you two have very different tastes in movies as well.” You tease, giving anything to be a fly on the wall in their apartment during a fight about what to watch even though you already know he gives in every time.
“Oh god, it’s even worse with movies.” Running a hand down his face he sounds exasperated like he’s having war flash backs.
The gold in his eyes dances, shimmering with the emerald that surrounds it at the giggle he gets from you. He turns onto the main road that leads to the station, a brief moment of silence settling in the warm space of his car at the realization of the limited amount of time left with each other. It creates a desperate need that claws at the back of your throat to keep the conversation going because you aren’t sure what comes after this.
The unmistakable intro to Take Me Home Tonight comes out muffled from his speakers, catching in your ears at the same time. Steve's head snaps in your direction, his mouth formed into an excited ‘O’.
”How can anyone hate this song?!” He argues turning it up, head bopping and fingers tapping on his steering wheel.
”They have no taste, clearly” You agree, breaking out into the kind of laughter that has your ribs sore as he starts to belt along with the song both passionately and off key.
”I see why you work the soundboard.” Narrowing your eyes playfully, you meet his gaze a little flirty from under the thickness of your lashes, baiting him.
”Pfft, this town wouldn’t be able to handle me on the mic. That’s why I work the soundboard, honey.” He winks, turning the music down, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips.
”Yep, I’m sure that’s it.” You agree sarcastically, doing your best to ignore the pang of sadness that hits your chest when his tires crunch along the winding entrance of The Squawk. “Maybe we can work in your own show this summer then.”
His smile freezes, squinting his eyes, giving extra focus on the road.
”Well, no, don’t — don’t do that.”
“We could use the boost in listeners.” You press, getting sick pleasure out of watching him squirm biting back your laugh at the glare he sends your way.
“Wow, that sounds like the kind of idea a station manager would have.” He counters, pulling up next to the WSQK van that blocks your practically buried car.
”Wow, are you always this annoying in the morning?” You sigh, fighting off the way the corners of your lips twitch but he sees it, letting his own curve up celebrating his win this round.
“That’s not a nice thing to say to the guy who’s about to spend the next hour digging your car out.” He chastises, turning off his engine reaching over to squeeze your thigh with a pout.
He looks at you from under his lashes, tying knots in your stomach, the warmth of his hand bleeding through the denim of your jeans. Unfortunately, just like the rest of them, you don’t know how to back down from a challenge.
You lean forward on the arm rest, invading his space, catching the quiet hitch in his breath. He doesn’t move away, the hungry gaze returning from last night flicking down to your lips dilating his pupils. The hand on your thigh dares to move up just enough for your lashes to tickle at the tops of your cheeks.
”You’re right,” you breathe, trying to regain control. “That wasn’t very nice of me, can you forgive me, Steve?”
You swear the faint sound of a whine slip from the back of his throat, the tip of his nose nudging yours, the coffee on his breath fanning against your lips.
”I think I can, but I need something from you first.” He whispers, the hand on your thigh moving up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb resting at the corner of your mouth tilting your chin.
”Yeah? And what’s that?” The desperation in your voice is undeniable, every thought leaving your brain when his top lip gets dangerously close to brushing against your bottom.
He was going to do it, he was going to kiss you.
A loud smack on the driver side window breaks you both apart so quickly that your back hits the hard plastic handle of the passenger door.
”Jesus Christ!” Steve yells whacking his knuckles on the stick shift, elbow bumping hard against the steering wheel.
He turns around to see who the culprit is, anger flaring his nostrils and the daggers in his eyes sharpening coming face to face with none other than Keith who scoffs at his glare waving him off. He signals for the boy you almost got to kiss for the second time in 24 hours to roll down his window. They stare each other down in a silent challenger before Steve begrudgingly obliges.
”What do you want, asshole? You could have broken my window just now.” The amount of venom in Steve’s question is enough to put an army down.
”Shut up, don’t be such a drama queen, Harrington.” Keith bites, and you really start to understand why he was banned from secret Santa.
”What’s up?” You cut in to relieve the tension as Steve’s lips curl in, muttering insults under his breath.
Keith scrunches his nose at the former king in a mixture of annoyance and disgust, mocking him before bringing his attention back to you.
”My cousin’s gonna be here soon, so if you don’t want any dead air, I suggest you come inside, like now. He’s the guy who plows the roads so he’s on a pretty tight schedule. ” He explains almost like it's something to brag about, and Steve’s face twists into a sarcastic sneer, butting in.
”Oh your cousin plows the roads? That checks out because I was just thinking about what a shit job it was on the drive here.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to operate a snow plow, I’ll make sure to tell him, I know your opinion really matters to him.” Sarcasm drips from every word flipping Steve off.
”Okay! I’m going in now.” You interrupt loudly, unbuckling your seatbelt, putting an end to their bickering. The heat that was simmering just under your skin from the silk of his lips cooling down.
Steve huffs out a loud irritated breath through his nose, eyes finding yours with the kind of longing inside of them that threatens to swallow you whole because he knows the moments lost.
And it’s all Keith’s fault.
”You can go do your job now, she said she’s coming in.” Lashing out, he shoos him away with his hand like a dog.
Keith makes another face at him, flipping him off one more time for good measure before heading back up to the station. Steve watches till he disappears mumbling a sting of curse words after him.
”God, I really hate that guy.” He huffs rolling his window back up.
”Really? I couldn’t tell.”
This gets Steve to laugh, the anger rolling off his shoulders as you zip up your coat, gearing up to venture outside. He glances at your lips one more time before finally accepting his fate, opening his car door. You want to grab his hand and drag him back and say that he can, that there’s still time, the moments not gone. It’s never going to be gone. Keith can wait.
Instead, you follow him out into the cold.
”Thank you so much for doing this again, Steve.” You say with a small smile as you walk around to his side, trying to hide the nerves that come back like a tidal wave because outside of his car feels like a different world. “I probably would have ended up in a ditch.”
”That’s okay I would have gotten you out of it, even if you did.” He teases with a wink, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.
You finally look at your car, heart sinking when you see just how buried it really is.
”You really don’t have to dig it out if you want to go home. I mean look at it! That’s crazy. I can always do it when I get off later.” You start rambling, guilt eating you alive.
Steve grabs your hips pulling you to him with gentle strength as he leans his back against the door. Cedar and a little bit of sleep mix with his leftover cologne, calming the nerves that kick your heart rate up, as your hands slide up the cold leather of his coat hooking your arms around his neck. Steve bends down just enough to press his forehead to yours the heat of his breath fanning against your already cold bitten cheeks.
”Don’t worry about your car, I’m gonna take care of it.” He whispers, hazel eyes following the lines of your face, memorizing it for when he can’t stare at you anymore. “I want to talk about - we should talk about last night at some point.”
”Yeah, I agree.” The words are shy coming out, looking at him from under your lashes.
One of his hands leaves your waist to cup the side of your face again, pulling away just enough to tilt your head up, the pad of his thumb catching the pout of your bottom lip. He holds your gaze like he’s trying to communicate it to you without words. You know what he is trying to say because you want to say it out loud too, but you can’t.
I like you.
Leaning forward he presses a kiss on your forehead that lingers just long enough to make you want more.
“You better go in before the village idiot throws a fit.” He rolls his eyes with a dry laugh, finally letting you go.
“He really is the worst.” You finally agree with the dread of having to see him again, inside.
“We’ll talk soon.” He sticks his hands in his back pockets, the shyness from before coming back at the thought of confessing what you both already know is true.
“S-sounds good.” Stuttering, the bubble the two of you have been lost in the last twenty four hours finally pops, the real world waiting for you inside the double doors.
“Have a good shift, honey.” He smiles, giving you one last look that feels like he’s trying to take a mental image of you right here in this moment.
”I hope you throw those pants away when you get home.” You call out walking backwards, enjoying the red that paints his cheeks despite his laughter.
He waves at you one last time, watching you walk to the double doors and out of sight.
——
Christmas Eve Night
The wheels of the rolling chair squeak as you push yourself around the small space of the studio room. Billie Holiday’s album Solitude spins on the record player, the needle landing on Blue Moon. The first keys of the piano float through the speakers, soft brass mixing with her bittersweet timbre. You stare at the small Christmas tree in the corner of the common room, the colorful lights twinkling just like the ones strung up around you. The shimmering red gift bag that sits on Steve’s soundboard taunts you to over think what’s inside of it hidden under the fluffed green tissue paper.
Boredom has the feeling of self pity trying to burrow itself inside of your thoughts because this was how you were spending Christmas Eve. Alone at work. It was a joke made last week that was only meant to rile Robin up but it quickly became a reality, cause it turns out Keith really does have family out of town. Successfully giving both her and Steve another reason to hate him.
You twirl around in the chair fighting the way your mind wanders to The Wheeler’s and the fact that Nancy is most likely there sharing her grand adventures from Emerson. An even meaner part of your brain imagines Steve listening to them with that same enamored look in his eyes that swallowed you whole just a few nights ago.
Questions you don’t dare to ask float through your brain faster than you can concentrate. Has she seen his scars? Does she have them too? Deep down you know the answers. Pushing the thought of them together out of your mind, you work hard not to dwell on the way you’re clearly trying to hurt your own feelings. She left and will leave again because she doesn’t want him, at least, not like that.
It was Steve you weren’t too sure about.
You hadn’t been alone with him since the car ride back to work that morning. The past few days around the station have been nothing but near misses and stolen looks with shy smiles after getting caught. Perfectly made coffee with fingers that brush handing Steve his mug. Hazel eyes holding yours like maybe if he stared hard enough the two of you could communicate telepathically. But you already know what he’s trying to say.
We need to talk.
Yesterday he almost made it to your office with the kind of grin twisting up his full lips, like he was finally going to get what he wanted. In fact he made it so close to the doorway that your stomach flipped on itself, just for a frantic Robin to intercept him. Foiling yet another attempt to get to you.
The song reaches its last note, cutting the record off bringing you back to reality, and giving you something to do besides over-think. Gentle fingers slide Frank Sinatra’s Nice ‘N’ Easy from its cover, lifting the needle to start it from the top. That Old Feeling’s melody bursts from the speakers with deep baritone and powerful strings. A small smile playing at the edges of your mouth at the much nicer thought of Steve listening in, wondering if you’re playing it just for him.
You were.
A flash of brown catches in the corner of your eye as you put the Billie Holiday album back on the shelf. Freezing, your heart thumps wildly as all the worst episodes of America’s Most Wanted you’ve ever watched come rushing back. You try to mentally count how many seconds it would take to lock the door from where you’re standing before gathering enough courage to turn around. Dramatically preparing for death, you aren’t expecting to meet the hazel eyes you haven’t stopped thinking about on the other side of the glass.
Steve smiles, snow flakes sticking to the ends of his hair that looks like it was styled with the utmost care tonight. That big swoop curling over his forehead just begging to be pushed back, your fingers itching to do it. He’s got your favorite sweater on, the thick woven cream one with his brown leather coat on top of it. It’s paired with light washed jeans that wrap tight around the legs that were tangled with yours a few nights ago. His usual white Nike’s covering his feet.
You can’t stop the curve of your lips, no matter how nonchalant you wish you could be, butterflies erupting when his teeth gleam just the same. Finally pushing the wild strand back, he starts to make his way towards the door with a messily wrapped present in his other hand. The round shape of it not doing his skills or the red Santa printed paper any favors.
“What? Do you just appear anytime someone plays Frank?” You tease to try and hide just how happy you are to see him when he steps inside the sound proof room, the amber of his cologne immediately hitting your nose.
“Yeah, you didn’t know? I thought that’s why you did it.” He plays along with a straight face, earning the kind of giggle from you that has his eyes sparkle with something that makes your thighs press.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at Nan— The Wheeler’s?” You try to correct, the jealousy you thought was snuffed out sneaking into your words. Steve catches it, his gaze narrowing slightly.
”I went and said hi to everyone, hung out for a little bit,” shrugging, he sets his gift down next to yours, looking at his name scribbled in your handwriting on the tag before leaning back on the desk, holding your eyes in his. “Then I came to where I really wanted to be.”
He says it with the kind of confidence you can’t mistake for anything else.
“Besides, what’s the point of going to a secret Santa gift exchange if mine is stuck at work.” He winks, revealing that the mess of a wrap job is indeed for you.
”Well, I guess it works out.” You say a little breathless, your eyes admiring how handsome he looks in the low light, not exhausted from holding everything together for once. “Since you were mine too.”
“I didn’t want to assume when I saw the bag, thought maybe you just liked me that much, cute handwriting by the way.” His left cheek pulls up in a lopsided grin, enjoying the eye roll and fake huff he gets from you in return.
”So nosy. Way to ruin the reveal.” Your tongue pokes the side of your mouth to try and stop the way your smile won’t stop growing. “And if I remember correctly, I’m not the one who said there’s no one who works here that’s worth ten bucks.”
“You and I both know I meant Keith.” He argues, running a hand through his hair, “god, I really hate that guy. Even more after tonight.”
”You hate Keith for having a family?” You snort, watching the way the corners of his lip twitch at the sound.
”Is there something wrong with that? It’s inconveniencing me, I’m trying to you know — do something here and because of him you have to be at work.” Scoffing, he crosses his arms like it’s a completely justified reason.
”What exactly are you trying to do here, Steve?” Looking at him from under your lashes, he squirms a little under your gaze before regaining his confident charm.
”Well, you’ll have to abandon your post and follow me to the van to find out.”
“I’m not surprised that it’s you of all people asking me not to do my job.” Sarcasm rolls off every syllable, and you wonder if he notices the way all the blood rushes despite it.
”Listen, I know the boss, she really won’t care.” Steve smirks, a full bellied laugh shaking his shoulders when you flip him off in response.
“You’re lucky I just started this record.” You point asternly, before finally giving in. “We’ve got like an hour. Tops.”
—-
The van is already running when the two of you step outside, the low hum of the engine cutting through the wind. Snow crunches under your converse, thick and heavy just like the flakes that fall steadily from the dark lavender sky. The serene scene of the woods that surround the station is breathtaking, making you realize that you can’t remember the last time you had a white Christmas.
“Wait, how long have you actually been here?”
The puzzle pieces slowly begin to slot together as you cross your arms in an attempt to protect yourself from the sharp wind that hits you like knives, cursing the split second decision to not grab your coat.
”Maybe like an hour — hour and a half?” He says from a few steps ahead of you, throwing a look over his shoulder. “Hey, do you want my jacket?”
”What? Steve! An hour and a half!” You gasp, swatting his arm, shock painting your features, ignoring his second question because he’s already shrugging it off before you can say no.
”Hey! It’s fine, relax!” He laughs, making a dramatic show of rubbing the spot you smacked before turning around to drape the leather over your shoulders.
It takes every ounce of will power not to press your nose into the collar when the warmth of it envelopes you. He tugs the sides of the jacket for good measure, winking at you down the slope of his nose before continuing his path to the van. A soft glow shines through the small square windows of the back doors, the yellow light shimmering in the snow. His long strides stop once you get close enough to feel the heat emanating from the engine, turning to face you with rosy cold bitten cheeks meeting your gaze down the sharp slope of his nose. He traps you in the mossy green forest of his eyes, keeping you there as the tips of your shoes brush against with a soft squeak. The pads of his fingers search for yours, tugging you closer when he finds them.
“I did this because I wanted to.” He whispers, reassuring the nervous way you tug your bottom lip between your teeth taking it all in.
Any response is lost on the tip of your tongue, the corners of your lips curling up into something shy. You meet his gaze from under the hood of your lashes, rocking back on your heels mustering a nod. It’s enough for him, flashing you the kind of smile that threatens to buckle your knees, before opening the large metal door. The rusted hinges creak so loudly it echoes into the darkness, the view inside nearly stealing the breath from your lungs.
The golden twinkle of string lights line the roof of the van, another set swooping underneath them in a curved zig zag. They paint the space in warm citrine, relaxing the dark edges the glow of them can’t reach. Everything’s cast in shadows, even softening the ugly colors of the shag rug that covers the floor. There’s a mini Christmas tree that you saw on the clearance shelf at Bradley’s Big Buy a few days ago sitting on the small table right next to a plate of leftovers from the party. The Squawk plays on the radio, Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice crackling through the bad nearly blown out speakers.
“Steve this is — this is so cute.” It comes out quieter than intended, your brain trying to wrap around the fact that he did this for you trying to take in the details of it all with a heart that feels so full that it might burst.
“Yeah?” He questions with an uncertainty that you can’t believe is there. It’s enough for you to tear your eyes away from the shimmering light, your fingers tightening around his.
“This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” You whisper, taking a step closer to look up at him. “Thank you so much, handsome.”
The endearment has his cheeks turning a pretty shade of red, perfect teeth tugging his full bottom lip into his mouth, a free hand running through his snow-covered hair.
“Let’s get inside before we lose all the heat.” He smiles, pulling your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, the warmth of his breath soothing cold skin.
—-
You sit across from each other on the blankets he’d spread out over the rug, your legs bent slotted between his, knees knocking together every so often. Throw pillows you’re pretty sure are from his living room line the edges of the quilt on either side, while your snow covered shoes and his jacket sit discarded in the front seat to dry.
Steve stares at you with the kind of smirk that makes you feel like your body is a livewire, the ends of his hair a little wet from the snow that melted once you got inside. The pad of his thumb swipes gently on the top of your socked foot, electricity seeping through the thick cotton, tingling against your skin. The heat pouring from the vents fogs up the windows, hiding you from the outside world. Safe again.
“So who goes first?” You question, nervous fingers fiddling with the string handle of the gift bag.
There’s a brief moment where you swear panic flickers across his face, but he recovers quickly, clearing his throat. The notion that he’s just as nervous as you relaxes a little bit of tension in your shoulders, knocking your knee into his with flirty purpose.
“Ladies always first.” He says it like it shouldn’t even be a question, grabbing the messily wrapped present from his side handing it over to you. Electric currents running through touching finger tips.
Whatever it is feels heavy in your hand as you spin it around, examining the crazy amount of tape that’s plastered all over it. You make a show of shaking it next to your ear to stop him from hiding under the weight of his thoughts that has him staring at his hands, earning you the flash of teeth you were looking for.
“Don’t break it please.” He laughs, running that signature stressed hand through his hair, filling you with a sense of pride that you’re the cause of it this time.
“I would never!” You gasp dramatically, the pads of your fingers tugging on the edges of the paper. “Whatever is inside of this immaculate wrap job is about to be my favorite thing in the world.”
”Not all of us back down from a challenge and take the lazy way out with a gift bag.” He taunts catching your sarcasm with a grin that has you rolling your eyes, the corners of your lips curving up.
You fight to regain your focus on the task at hand and not the boy you haven’t stopped thinking about sitting across from you. The quick thumping of your heart pounds muffled in your ears as you slowly start to unwrap whatever it is, the heat of his stare making you squirm. Breaking the last little bit of tape holding it together with your index finger, the last thing you’re expecting is the candle that rolls into your palm.
There’s no label on the glass jar holding the sea foam green wax with a long white wick that sits slightly off center sticking out of the top of it. Curiously, you lift it up to your nose and inhale only to be met with the kind of scent that takes you to a time you haven’t stopped day dreaming about all winter long. Not a specific memory but a collection of where all your favorite ones took place. It smells like 9pm sunsets and late night drives with the windows rolled down. It’s barbecues at the lake with way too much sunscreen yet somehow not enough at all. Ice cold lemonade in red solo cups with condensation from the heat dripping down the sides, sulfur stinging in your nose from Fourth of July sparklers. It smells like summer. Your perfect summer.
”Oh my god.” You groan, taking another big huff trying to figure out how to live inside of it for the next few months. “Where did you get this?”
”You like it?” He asks wearily, cracking his knuckles, nervous eyes hyper aware of all of your reactions.
”Like it? Steve, I’m obsessed with it.” You sniff it again for good measure, and somehow it keeps being better than the last time. “Seriously, what brand is this?”
“You see — I - I uhh.“ He scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his lap like he’s struggling to find his words before meeting your gaze from under the thick hood of his lashes. “Dustin’s mom makes candles, as like, a hobby or whatever. So I forc - I mean I paid — he helped me make you one.”
”Wait, you made this for me?” You question in whispered disbelief ignoring the subtle coercing of his younger friend. He nods, crimson deepening in his cheeks as he runs another hand through his hair.
Flowers that Steve’s started to water bloom deep in your chest threatening to crack it open. The unmistakable sting of tears wells up in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them back. Setting the candle down at your side, you sit up on your knees. He stretches his legs, laying them flat against the floor to accommodate whatever you’re doing without question as you crawl onto his lap wrapping your arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but when he does, his arms snake around your waist tugging you even closer. Your knees land on either side of his hips as he buries his face in the crook of neck, inhaling deeply like he’s been waiting for this all his life. His hands spread wide across your back, warm palms sliding up the dip of your spine, nudging at the hinge of your jaw with the tip of his nose, a satisfied hum tickling against your skin.
“Thank you Steve, I love it.” You whisper, lips brushing against the shell of his ear as the greedy tips of your fingers curl into the soft wisps of chestnut at the nape of his neck.
“I wish you knew how happy that makes me.” He murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet you with a heady gaze that threatens to swallow you whole with wandering hands finding a new home on the curve of your hips.
Leaning forward, you press forehead to his tugging lightly at his baby hairs that curl around the bottoms of his ears. Your breath mingles in the little space that’s left between your begging lips, so close they could brush with the slightest tilt of your chin.
“Your turn.” You say, the corners of your mouth curving up softly, his grip on your sides tightening in response.
He runs the tip of his nose along the length of yours before pulling back enough to have you miss him, a hunger his stare that sets a fire a blaze on every inch of your skin.
“Let’s see it.” He readjusts beneath you with a grin, the hold on your hips staying iron clad, making sure there’s no misunderstanding that he’s keeping you there.
Reaching behind to grab the gift bag, nerves make your palms sweat while the another part of you is excited to get rid of the thing that’s haunted your every waking thought since wrapping it. It crinkles loudly in your hands, the smile on his face growing wide enough to split it in two.
“Whatever it is, even if it’s just a pair of socks you got from the thrift store, I’m gonna love it.” Steve reassures with gentle palms sliding up on either side of your rib cage, tiny wings taking flight underneath his fingers.
“Well it’s definitely not that. And also that’s oddly specific. Has someone gotten you that before?" You snort a little confused, trying to distract from the slight shake of your hand as you bravely hand it over.
“Don’t worry about it.” He teases, lifting the bag up to his ear mimicking the way you shook his gift, earning the smack on his chest and roll of your eyes he was looking for.
”Steve! Stop it!”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” He laughs, grabbing your wrist before you can fully pull your hand away. Holding you in the golden honey that drips warm in his eyes, he slowly brings your palm back up his mouth softly pressing a kiss to the soft skin there. “I’m gonna open it now, promise.”
The gesture sends your body buzzing, nervous teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to remember how to breathe. Pulling the green tissue out first, he tosses it on the other side of the throw pillows in a messy ball as your heart tries to claw its way out of your throat watching him peer inside the bag. Steve’s body freezes between your thighs. The familiar itch of panic threatens to set in after a few moments of silence, with nothing but the howling wind outside and the crackle of Frank Sinatra’s voice through the speakers.
It’s enough to have you start to squirm uncomfortably on his lap, the movement shaking him out of whatever daze he was lost in, meeting your gaze with glassy eyes from under his lashes.
“First of all, this is way more than ten dollars.” He laughs lightly, trying to break the unexpected tension, but there's no mistaking the shake inside of his voice as he pulls out a map, compass and a camera.
“For all the adventures waiting for you on the other side of Indiana state lines.” You whisper a little nervous that maybe you’ve over stepped, that what he shared with you in that car ride to your apartment wasn’t to be talked of again.
Disbelief floats around in his watery gaze like a life boat because you see him when he’s not sure he’s ever really seen himself.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He breathes like he can’t hold it in anymore, searching for the answers in the lines of your face because the curves of it have become his favorite thing.
It wasn’t the response you were expecting and it sparks an avalanche of unspoken feelings that burst at the seams of your chest trying to get out. Words not dared uttered out loud but have done nothing but spin on a loop in your mind, worming their way into every thought both awake and lost in your dreams. The universe shifts at his confession, your world tilting off its axis because Steve Harrington snuck up on you in a life altering surprise.
“I think I’m already there.” You admit, eyes casting down at your fidgeting hands because ‘falling’ is a lot different than ‘in’, but in the spirit of honesty, you lay your cards on the table too.
“Hey,” His voice comes out soft just above a whisper, long fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Me too, I was just saying that so I wouldn’t scare you off.”
You can’t stop the watery giggle that slips past your lips at his confession, the whites of his teeth shining at the sound.
”Wow, I didn’t even think about scaring you off until after I said it. But by then it was too late.” You grin, pressing your forehead to his again brushing the tip of his nose with your own.
”Good thing it worked out, for you yet again huh?” He teases, bringing his hand back up to cup the side of your face.
”Mmhmm,” you hum, daring to hold his gaze as you slide your palm over the top of it leaning into the warmth of his touch. The sunbursts of color in his hazel eyes darken as he pulls you closer, making you brave enough to ask for the one thing you’ve wanted since that night under the stars.
“Steve?”
“Yeah, honey?” He whispers, eyebrows marrying together like he’s begging you to put him out of his misery.
“Kiss me.”
He wastes no time closing the space that’s left, pouring all of his want into the first press of his lips, the pad of his thumb running along the heated skin of your cheek. Needy fingers find a new home, tangling themselves in the thick dampness of his hair, tugging him closer when his tongue swipes against your lower lip, begging you to let him in. It’s easy to say yes. You meet him in the middle, the muscles moving together languid and slow, savoring it. The grip he has on your hips tightens, his nose pressing into your cheek exploring your mouth with the kind of intensity that dares to get messy. A satisfied moan rumbling from his chest when your tongue starts to battle for dominance.
You could do this for hours, you think, and never get tired of it. Never get tired of him.
“Baby.” He murmurs against your lips, the new endearment pulling you from your love drunk thoughts, sending the word ‘baby’ buzzing through your veins.
“Hmm?” You half answer, too distracted by the way he busies himself leaving open mouthed kisses down the length of your jaw, a big hand coming up so he can tilt your chin to get to your neck.
”The music stopped.” Steve breathes against your skin, nudging the side of your face with the tip of his nose, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Dead air.”
He straightens up, pulling away from where he’d been focusing his attention and brings it to your flushed face. Pressing his forehead to yours, he squeezes his eyes shut like stopping this is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Chests rise and fall, lungs desperately trying to get the oxygen they crave, but you just want Steve.
“Fuck the dead air.”
You steal his lips without a second thought, and it’s your tongue that asks for permission this time. Steve smiles into the kiss granting it to you with ease, one hand coming up to the side of your face. The pad of his thumb tugs at the edge of your mouth, opening you up more for him, building a hunger that threatens to scrape teeth together, hips swiveling on their own accord. He shudders underneath you, a half choked moan escaping the back of his throat when you do it again, only this time with purpose.
Wrapping a strong arm around the small of your back, his fingers spread wide along the curve of your spine. He pulls you close to his chest before lifting you up, laying you both down on the blankets. Slotting himself between your legs that spread for him, big hands land on either side of your head, caging you in. He pulls away from your mouth like its torture, staring down at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls every morning. The intensity of it swells deep in your chest, fingers reaching up letting the pads of them trace the warm lines of his face. He’s always felt like sunshine to you.
“You’re sure about this?” He whispers, the strain of maintaining self control evident in the shake of his voice.
“This is the first thing in my life that I've been absolutely certain of.” You admit with a grin, never wanting to leave whatever this little space he created tucked away from the outside world is. At least not yet. “What about you?”
Steve’s eyes flutter closed for a second, chasing your touch nuzzling his face into your palm as the pad of your thumb glides over the clutter of moles on his cheek. Your favorite constellation. Leaning further down, the tip of his nose runs along the length of yours, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” Leaning down, the tip of his nose runs along the length of yours, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
“Then what are we waiting for?” The question comes out quiet, wrapped in the kind of ache that's so palpable you can feel it in your bones.
He holds your gaze searching for any trace of apprehension that he’ll never find, the blacks of his irises taking over once he’s satisfied. His hand slides down the curve of your waist with more purpose as he drops his full weight onto you, the smell of cedar and bergamot all encompassing. Your spine bends, pressing your body into his yearning to get closer, the pine of his shampoo tickling your nose, driving you mad.
“So damn pretty.” He murmurs into your mouth before collecting it with a roll of his hips, greedily swallowing the gasp that follows.
His tentative fingers fiddle with the hem of your sweater until it’s your hips that meet him this time, giving them all the permission they need. A deep groan rattles from deep in his chest when you do it again. Calloused fingers tickle the soft skin of your tummy, flitting up the contour of your ribs, the pad of his thumb sliding under the wire of your bra. Your determined hands travel down the broad expanse of his shoulders before they dip down the lean length of his chest lingering at the bottom of his thick woven turtle neck.
You pull away from his lips that chase you to come back, whispering “Can I?”
His body tenses at your question as panic starts to burrow deep in your gut, the butterflies retreating back to their cocoons at the thought of ruining this already.
“Only if you’re comfortable,” you remind him trying to salvage it, kissing the edge of his mouth, adding softly, “I’ll want you no matter what you decide.”
The tight muscles in his shoulders relax at the soft affection in your voice, the pad of his thumb swiping under your bra again before squeezing at your side. Steve hides his face in the crook of your neck, leaving an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, doing it again relishing at the keening noise you give him.
”You first.” He murmurs quietly against your skin before lifting his head, drowning you in the rich amber of his eyes.
”Do it for me?” You’re shy with the way you ask, meeting him under the hood of your lashes.
“Baby.” His breath fans hot against scorched skin, the tip of his nose running down the slope of yours with brows furrowed in the kind of want that steals the air from your lungs.
Steve greedily captures your lips one more time before sitting back on his haunches. He runs a hand through his now sweaty hair, a pretty shade of red creeping up his neck as he tries to regain some self control. Propping yourself up on your elbows, it's hard not to notice all the ways you affect him, especially in the tight jeans he always wears. Your cheeks burn remembering all the rumors about him in high school. A smirk tugs up one side of his mouth, making you realize that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.
“I swear this wasn’t some master plan to get in your pants or anything like that.” He huffs out a laugh shuffling back between your thighs, hands curving around the bend of your knees, thumbs brushing softly against the caps.
“I know,” You try to hide your smile by biting into the fat of your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his thighs as you sit all the way up. Hooking your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, the new position putting the center of his chest at eye level.
“Jesus Christ.” He grumbles with a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair again before letting them curl under your chin tilting your gaze up even more. “You’re trying to kill me.”
The giggle he earns in response makes him grin as you tug lightly on the denim.
“Lift your arms for me, pretty girl.” His command drips with honey, the pearly whites of his teeth peeking out, sliding the pad of his thumb along your pouty bottom lip.
You do as you're told, heart racing so fast it pounds in your ears while his soft eyes follow your movements. Wetting his lips he slowly peels your sweater from over your head, tossing it to the side before really taking you in. If it wasn’t for the admiration that glimmered bright in his eyes, you would be self conscious with how he stares at you without saying a word for what feels like the longest time.
“Come here, please.” He pleas in a whisper, urging you to your knees.
His hands feel like they are everywhere when you meet him at eye level, greedy fingers squeezing at your soft curves before warm palms spread wide across your back pulling you in. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, littering your heated skin with the same open mouthed kisses that were your undoing just minutes ago. A needy whine slips from between your lips, your fingers finding themselves back in his hair, tugging him closer. Making his way down your neck, his eager mouth feels like it’s on the hunt, devouring all the new skin that's presented to him. He presses a kiss to your collar bone before perfect teeth nip at the swell of your breasts, expert fingers undoing the hooks of your bra with ease.
”Oh my god, Steve.” You say a little breathless, arching deeper into him searching for the kind of friction you’re not going to get like this.
He hums against your skin, before bringing his attention back to where you want him most. Cupping the side of your face with one hand, the pad of his thumb tugs at your chin, licking into your mouth. Meeting his tongue with feverish need, your teeth scrape together at the warm palm that squeezes your breast, nipples pebbling under his touch. You don’t think about it when your hands slide down to the hem of his sweater, too lost in your desperation for more until he grabs your wrists with a soft “Hey” in between kisses that finally you wake up.
”I’m - I’m sorry.” You break away trying to create some distance, embarrassed that you lost control.
”Hey, no — no, no, don’t be sorry honey.” He coos, pulling you back to him pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth for good measure, meeting your gaze with the same adoration as before. “Will you - will you just let me do it?”
“You don’t have to -“
“I want to.” He says it with such conviction that it leaves you little room to over think his answer, whispering ‘I want to’ one more time, nudging your nose.
All you can do is nod shuffling back to give him space, arms wrapping around your chest out of instinct. Steve takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, staring intensely at the patterns on the quilt beneath you. His wrists flick at his sides with the kind of nerves that make you want to say you’ve changed your mind, that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to do this but it’s more than just that, you can tell, so you hold it in and trust him.
He doesn’t look at you when his arms cross at his waist, fingers curling under the hem of his turtle neck slowly pulling it up.The dark hair of his happy trail reveals itself to you first, another cluster of moles dotting the side of it that you’re desperate to kiss. There's a slight shake to his hands when his sweater gets higher up his torso the same kind of jagged edges peeking out that are identical to the one wrapped around his neck.
These ones though, are much bigger.
They spread wide, taking up space along both sides of his rib cage like saw-toothed wings. Uneven skin pinches together pink in some parts, smooth and silver in others. The raised edges outline the mean looking bites that stop right under his chest that’s covered in an even thicker dark patch of hair. His scars unfurl like water colors that bleed into paper from too much water, beautiful and messy just like him.
Tossing his sweater with yours, he runs both his hands through his hair before finally meeting your gaze with a vulnerability inside of them that threatens to break your heart. Dropping your arms you move slowly, coming closer holding his stare. You can feel the nerves that radiate off of him, chest rising and falling in quick succession.
“Can I touch you?” You ask quietly, like you’re trying not to spook him.
It takes him a second to answer, brows furrowing as he looks down, pink tongue poking out to lick his lips.
”Yeah - yeah.” He nods, bringing his gaze back to you, long fingers curling around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand to the one on his rib cage.
Steve sucks a breath between his teeth feeling the warmth of your palm on skin that hasn’t been touched in months, his body shuddering when you press softly into the uneven markings. There’s a roughness to the middle of it, the raised skin on the ends more smooth and firm. The pad of your thumb brushes against it, encouraging him to bring your other hand to the one just under his chest on the other side, fully letting you in. He studies your reactions, desperately trying to read your mind, the amber of his eyes turning glassy with apprehension.
”You’re so handsome, Steve.” You say holding his stare, tentatively bending down before you lean forward slowly testing the waters. His breath comes out in nervous huff, but he doesn’t stop the press of your lips.
Your kiss is tender against the biggest one that almost spreads the entire expanse off his ribs, sending another shudder through his body, a whispered ‘honey’ slipping from his mouth. His palms slide over the tops of yours as you make your way down his chest, peppering more along the other side giving all of them your equal attention. You self indulgently kiss the cluster of moles next to his happy trail before working your way back up to include the one at the base of his neck.
The warmth of your hands moves up his broad shoulders meeting his gaze with heavy eyes. His fingers glide down your arms before they tickle the dip of your spine. Hooking your wrists around his neck, you bring your soft kisses to his waiting lips, his hold tightening crushing you to him he can never be close enough.
Your mouths move slowly against each other, finding the perfect rhythm, tongues meeting in the middle savoring the taste of each other, taking your time. It’s you who pulls him back down to the blankets, thighs spreading for him to lay between them. The rough feel of his scars against your skin sends goosebumps pebbling, your body curving up insatiable for more of him. He moans into the kiss, his hands working their way down, deft fingers unbuttoning your pants before pushing under the waist band of your soaked underwear.
“Shit,” He breathes, breaking apart from your lips. Pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers finding the effects of his touch. ”So wet, baby.”
”Mmhm.” You whimper, hips meeting the slow circles he starts to rub on your bundle of nerves. “Want you, Steve.”
His lips curl up against the side of your warm cheek, hearing his name making him brave. The pads of his fingers slide further down letting a knuckle stretch you out. You gasp when he adds a second, pulling him back to your mouth, meeting the slow movements of his wrist with another roll of your hips. He pushes a third finger into the heat of your squeezing walls, prepping you for what’s pressing hard against your thigh.
You find the will power to break free from the way he starts to tighten the coil deep in your gut, impatient fingers finding the button of his jeans, eager hands shoving them down his hips. He helps you, lifting them enough to kick off as the pad of his thumb threatens to become your undoing, putting just enough pressure against your clit for your jaw to go slack.
“Please,” You beg as his lips keep making their way up your jaw, your palm finding the hard length of him straining against the white material of his boxer briefs.
He moans hot against the shell of your ear, another shudder rippling through his body, hips bucking on their own accord, your touch sending him over the edge.
“Fuck, I need you. You have no idea how bad I need you.” His hushed words come out desperate, like he might go insane if he can’t have it.
His fingers curve, hitting that spot inside of you that threatens to make you see the stars that you’re convinced he hung in the sky. His name leaves your mouth like it's the only word you know, eye brows furrowing together when they pick up the pace. Their determined movements become your undoing as he sucks on the sensitive part of your neck, leaving a mark. Your world tilts off its axis at the unexpected intensity that washes over you, walls fluttering hard against his fingers, trying to push him out.
“God, you’re so beautiful like this baby.” He groans, teeth nipping softly at the hinge of your jaw. “Always so damn pretty, wanna see it again.”
It takes you a moment to come back down, words getting lost on the tip of your tongue at his affection. His greedy lips waste no time traveling a path down your chest, his hot mouth enveloping your nipple into the wet heat of it. He sucks just hard enough to earn a gasp, fingers finding their way back to the damp softness of his hair, getting lost in the silk of it as he peppers messy kisses down your sternum stopping just at the top of your navel.
You lift your hips, you help him push the rest of your pants down, taking your underwear with it. Laying yourself bare, his eyes that had turned into a dark shade of chestnut devour you. He sits back up on his haunches to really take it all in, pushing that infamous wild strand back.
“I’m sorry it took me so long.” He whispers, a sincerity in his gaze that shows a hint of misplaced guilt. ”I can’t believe I could’ve had you this whole time.”
”Steve,” his name comes out gentle, finding the strength to push yourself up meeting him in the middle. Your hands wrap around his hips, the pads of your thumbs brushing against the edges of his scars. “That doesn’t matter, we’re here now, and you weren’t the only one.”
His palm comes back up to envelope the side of your face in its big hold, staring down at you with the kind of affection that makes your heart skip two beats.
”Now, come here and don’t make me wait any longer.” You tease, looking up at him from under flirty lashes.
Steve’s smile stretches so wide, it splits his face in two, his white teeth shimmering in the twinkling lights. You tug at the waste band of the only piece of clothing keeping you apart, pulling him back down with hardly any effort at all. His briefs getting lost at your feet as he comes back to his favorite place between your thighs.
Hovering above you, the ends of your noses touch, lips curling into something sweet as you tangle your fingers back into the hair at the nape of his neck. The tip of him slides between your slick, his head catching on your bundle of nerves making your back arch, legs spreading wider. A deep groan escapes from the back of his throat, vibrating from his chest at the feel of you, his forehead resting against yours shuddering, doing it again.
You kiss the sharp edge of his jaw, encouraging him to keep going with a roll of your hips, one hand leaving his damp roots to reach down to guide him to the place you need him most. His eyes pinch closed, your jaw going slack at the initial stretch that’s even bigger than you imagined.
“Ohmygod, Steve.” It comes out in a desperate whine, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders from under his. Tethering yourself to him, you need an anchor when he pushes the rest of the way in.
”Jesus, you’re so — god, you’re so tight.” He groans, panting against your open mouth.
Steve doesn’t move, letting you adjust to his size, his arms trembling at the fluttering of your walls. You feel so full letting him melt into your body like this, taking it over and all you want is more. You think you’ll always want more. The grind of your hips catches your sweet spot on the rough patch of hair at the end of his happy trail, blunt nails digging crescent moons into the galaxy on his back.
He presses a kiss to the edge of your mouth before messily capturing it with a deep thrust, tongue licking into you, swallowing your moan. You meet him with eager hips, a sharp exhale leaving through his nose. Moving together slowly, you take all of him with an insatiable body that begs him to go deeper even though there's where else to go.
“You feel so good.” You whimper against his cheek, breaking away from his hungry lips to catch your breath. “So fucking good.”
“Yeah?” He huffs, hot breath tickling your ear, his strokes becoming more pointed at the squeeze of your walls when he hits that spot. “You’re perfect, made for me. I swear.”
Resting his forehead to yours, he presses the full weight of himself on you, the dark pools of his eyes drowning you in their abyss. One of his hands travels down the soft curve of your waist, squeezing at your hip before hooking your knee over the crook of his elbow.
He opens you up more for him, driving deeper, a guttural moan escaping from the back of his throat at the feel of you. It’s loud enough to drown out the high pitch whine you give in return. The intense need to keep close has you clawing at his skin, your spine bending pressing your body further into him.
“Never gonna get enough of you.” He pants, the heat of his breath fanning against your kiss bitten lips. “I need you to be mine.”
He sounds love drunk, his hips stuttering at the squeeze of your walls at his words.
“I’m yours Steve, that was never a question.” Fingers weaving into his hair, you tug him close, stealing the kind of kiss that tries to convey just how much you mean it.
He meets your mouth with the kind of intensity that sends butterflies fluttering in your chest, the familiar coil in your gut tightening again. His thrusts start to become more sporadic, like his self control is slipping, completely lost in the silk of you.
”I’m not - I’m not gonna last much longer.” He confesses pulling away, his fingers spreading across your chin tiling your face up to his so he can really see you. “Need you to cum for me again pretty girl, can you do that for me?”
All you do is nod, too intoxicated off of him to form full sentences anymore. Your jaw goes slack as he slows down to a grind, the rough thatch of hair at the base of him catching on your clit with just the right amount of pressure again. He nudges his nose with yours whispering a gentle ‘come on,’ that sends you falling over the edge for a second time, your vision going white behind eyes that close tight.
”So good, god, you’re so fucking good.” He moans, driving his hips into yours with the kind of intensity that tells you that he’s close, milking your release that becomes his demise.
His body tenses on top of yours, the hold on your leg tightening as a shudder ripples through his body spilling into you. A loud moan rattles from his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck. It’s almost enough for you to give in for a third time, rolling your hips, greedy walls taking him for all he’s worth. Tugging at his damp roots, you pull him close, relishing in the way he surrounds you, solid and warm. It takes him a moment for his muscles to fully relax after shocks rolling through his body until the hold on your leg finally comes loose.
Steve’s fingers glide up your thigh, curving around your rib cage, while his other hand that was holding your chin cups the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the contour of your cheekbone, wet lips peppering lazy kisses where he still hides. Your fingers run through his hair, scratching at his scalp, the corners of your mouth curving up at the low hum that tickles against your skin.
“Let’s never leave.” He grumbles, finally showing signs of life.
“Deal.” You giggle, pressing soft lips to the crown of his head, feeling the smile that spreads in against your skin.
His nose nudges at your jaw, finally coming up to meet your eyes, rosy pink creeping across his cheeks.
“Hey,” He greets shyly, studying the lines of your face before continuing. “I just want you to know I meant everything I said. I wasn’t just lost in the heat of the moment or something like that.”
Your hands untangle themselves from his hair, making a new home holding his face, whispering,
“Me too.”
He bends down, pressing his lips to yours with something delicate behind it. Pouring his adoration into every part of you. It’s overwhelming because you feel the same way, but you’re not sure a lifetime will be enough time to even scratch the surface.
“Travel with me.” The words come out in a hot breath against your mouth, running the tip of his nose up the slope of yours.
”Steve -“
”No, I mean it.” He argues with a grin, a smoothness to the lines of his handsome features you haven’t seen before. “We can go where it’s summer all the time.”
”Yeah?” You whisper, a full garden blossoming in your chest.
“Absolutely, I’ve actually already planned the whole thing in my head.” He teases, earning the kind of giggle he wants to bottle up so he can listen to it whenever he wants.
”That does sound pretty nice.”
“Who else am I going to take pictures of anyway?” The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he bends down, stealing a kiss that you already missed.
Laying tangled up in the back of the van, you weren’t expecting to fall in love when you moved back. The kind of surprise that you’re pretty sure just changed the trajectory of your life, but you know you’d choose this timeline every single time.
2087
dededos
dailybridgerton
janainaart
kaledo-art
snowghoul
kianamaiart
vaporwave
