in which! your dad gives you and Steve one rule to stay five feet apart at all costs, but you don’t hear his car pull into the driveway.
warnings: smut, no p-in-v, just fingers, making out, getting caught.
The cabin was stifling, the heavy summer air clinging to everything, but you and Steve didn’t seem to notice. He was pressed close to you, his lips hovering at that familiar spot on your neck that always made your breath hitch. You exhaled shakily and threaded your fingers through his hair, completely undoing the effort he’d put into it with half a can of hairspray. He didn’t even flinch.
"Fuck, Steve," you gasped out, the words muffled against his shoulder.
He grunted and his hands started to roam. They were calloused and warm as they slid over your skin. He was teasing you, moving slow and getting agonizingly close to where you actually wanted him. You were losing your mind and you couldn't take the slow pace anymore.
"Steve, please, just fuck me. I need you right now," you pleaded, your voice breaking.
He let out a low laugh against your skin and his breath was hot. "You're not being quiet, baby," he whispered, and his voice vibrated deep in his chest. "Let me remind you there's kids literally in the next room."
He was right. El and Mike were just on the other side of the wall. Your dad had that insane five feet apart rule for you two, while Mike and El got away with a three inch door crack. It was total bullshit, but usually you tried to play along so Hopper wouldn't lose his mind. He wasn't home today though, so the rules were out the window.
You both tumbled back onto the bed. Your hair was a complete disaster and your lips were stinging from how hard he had been kissing you. Steve looked down at you with dark eyes and a flushed face.
"You're so wet already," he moaned, and his fingers grazed you just right.
"I get wet just by the thought of you," you replied, and that was all the invitation he needed.
He pushed two fingers inside you and hit exactly where he needed to. You couldn't help it, and a loud, sharp moan ripped out of you. It was way too loud for a house this small.
The muffled conversation in the next room stopped instantly.
"What the hell was that?" Mike’s voice came through the wall. He sounded confused and annoyed.
"Fuck," Steve whispered, and his eyes went wide. He immediately smashed his lips against yours to stifle the next sound. You felt your eyes roll back and your body arched into him as he kept moving, your moans swallowed completely by his mouth.
The room went deathly silent as you and Steve froze. You could hear the floorboards creak in the hallway, and the sound of small, hesitant footsteps stopped right outside your bedroom door. Steve didn't move his mouth from yours. He stayed perfectly still.
A soft knock came at the wood.
"Are you... okay?" El’s voice was small and cautious.
Steve pulled back just a fraction, his lips still brushing yours as he held his breath. He looked down at you, his other hand staying busy. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to make a single sound.
"Are you... hurt?" El asked after a moment.
Steve cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound normal. "Everything is fine, El," Steve called out, his voice cracking just a little bit. "We just... we dropped a heavy book. Go back to Mike. We're busy."
There was a long pause. "Not hurt?" she asked again.
"Not hurt, El. Promise," Steve said. "Go on. Go listen to your music."
You heard her feet shuffle away. "Okay," she murmured. A second later, her footsteps faded.
Steve let out a massive sigh of relief. He leaned down until his forehead touched yours. "That was too close," he whispered. "If she had used her powers to open that door, I’d be a dead man."
He moved his hand back down, his fingers finding their rhythm again. He moved closer, his weight pressing you further into the mattress to keep the springs from squeaking.
"Shh, stay quiet for me," he breathed, his voice barely a ghost of a sound against your ear.
He started moving his fingers again, but this time it was slow and deliberate. Every time you felt a gasp building in your chest, he would lock his lips over yours, drinking in every sound you tried to make so the hallway stayed silent. The tension was even worse now because you had to be silent.
You gripped the bedsheets until your knuckles turned white. You wanted to scream his name, but he kept his mouth crushed against yours, swallowing every whimpering moan.
"You're doing so good," he whispered against your lips. He was breathless too, his forehead damp with sweat. "Just like that, baby."
He picked up the pace just a little bit, his movements fluid and confident. You arched your back, your toes curling against the sheets as the feeling built up. You let out a muffled cry, but Steve reacted instantly, kissing you deeply to swallow the sound.
"your almost there baby," he murmured against your mouth, when he felt you squeeze his fingers, his own heart thudding wildly. "Don't make a sound."
“God” Steve leaned in close and a cocky, breathless smirk tugged at his mouth as he felt you peak. "No, not God, baby. It’s Steve."
Steve’s fingers were moving faster now, his lips right against your neck as he moved. You were arched back with your fingers tangled in his hair, completely lost in the heat of the moment.
That Neither of you heard the tires of the Chevy Blazer on the gravel outside. Neither of you heard the heavy boots on the porch or the front door unlock.
You were biting your lip to stay quiet while Steve moved, his mouth ready to cover yours at any second. He leaned in close to whisper sweet things to you, but then the bedroom door flew open and hit the wall with a loud bang.
"Harrington... Get off her."
The voice was quiet, so quiet that you barely heard it. Steve jumped so high he nearly fell off the bed. He scrambled to his feet and turned a shade of white you had never seen before. You sat up fast, trying to pull up a blanket to cover yourself with shaking hands. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest.
Hopper was standing in the doorway, his face a deep shade of red. His hands were curled into fists at his sides and his chest was heaving. He looked like he was about to explode.
"Dad, wait—" you started, but he held up a hand to silence you.
He turned his eyes on Steve, who was fumbling with his clothes and looking for any way out. "I told you. Five feet. Door open. I gave you one chance, Harrington."
"Chief, I can explain, we were just—" Steve stammered, his voice cracking.
"I don't want to hear it." Hopper stepped into the room, looming over him. "I want you out. Now! If I see your face in this house for the next month, I’m putting you in a cell."
Steve didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his jacket off the floor, not even stopping to put it on. He scrambled past Hopper, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to get to the front door.
"I'm going! I'm gone!, i love you!" Steve yelled as he sprinted through the living room.
You heard the front door slam shut so hard the walls shook, followed by the sound of Steve’s car engine roaring to life and his tires screeching as he peeled out of the driveway.
Hopper stood in your room for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway before looking back at you. He pointed a finger toward the kitchen. "Kitchen. Chair. Now."
—
a/n: hiii, i would love for you guys to send requests please! i’m lowkey on a writers block :(
Jane stop, your eyes are too bambi, your heart too pure and innocent, your feelings too deep, your ending too doomed, they never called you by your name, you never heard "i love you" back, you kill yourself, they kill you Jane.
Will stop, your eyes are too bunny, your love is way too pure, your presence ignored, your character was put aside, your narrative too doomed, they never gave you the love you deserved, they always used you, they kill you Will.
Mike stop, your eyes are too puppy, your character too complex, your ending too unfair, they misunderstood you, they took away your feelings, they made you hollow, they kill you Mike.
“Steve hears that all the time and he goes in anyway, don’t you Steve?”
Robin’s words had yet to leave your mind since she said them in front of everyone at the WSQK station.
You know Robin meant well, a harmless, funny sex joke. A throwaway line meant to lighten the suffocating mood as you all faced yet another apocalypse due to Vecna. Unfortunately for you, it just made the already existing pit of anxiety in your stomach grow tenfold.
Your relationship with Steve was new enough as is.
Hell, you didn't even know what you were really doing here with these people who were trying to save the world anyways. The knowing, slightly suggestive looks that had flickered between everyone after Robin’s joke only solidified that feeling, making you want to shrink into the floorboards.
Steve instantly shot Robin a pointed, silencing look and genuinely asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He turned to you after, sensing you retreat further into the seat behind him. He placed a soft kiss to the side of your head and rubbed your arm lovingly hoping to ease you a bit..
But the damage was done.
That queasy feeling lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest and refused to leave.
It had been three days since then. Three days of Steve’s warm hand finding yours, of his comforting presence on your couch, of his soft kisses goodnight at your door.
And three days of you quietly, systematically, building a wall.
Not intentionally. Never intentionally.
You still kissed him, still leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, still loved him—god, you loved him—but everything stopped short. Kisses didn’t linger for more than three seconds. Hands didn’t wander. The moment it felt like it could lead somewhere, your chest tightened and you pulled away.
You were in his bed now, at his house, a rare moment of peace stolen in the midst of the ever-looming dread of whatever was happening in Hawkins. His arm was around you, a rerun of your favorite show playing and casting a blue glow over the room. He was tracing idle patterns on your shoulder with his thumb.
Your mind couldn’t help but wander.
Steve was your first real boyfriend. Your first everything. And you were… you were a virgin. It wasn’t a secret, not really. Steve knew. He’d never pushed, never made you feel anything less than adored.
You were both content with the slow and sweet pace you had set and just relished as much as you could in the dizzying newness of falling in love.
But now Robin’s comment had dragged the unspoken into the harsh light.
You knew of his past, ‘King Steve.’
You also didn’t really care at the time, but now. Now, it made your own inexperience feel like a gaping chasm between you. What if you were terrible? What if he was bored?
And god was he actually that big?
Your breath hitched, a tiny, involuntary sound.
Steve’s thumb stilled. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, too quickly, nestling closer as if to prove it. You tilted your face up for a kiss, a peace offering to your own paranoid thoughts.
He met you halfway, his lips soft and familiar. It started like all your kisses did, sweet, a little hesitant on your part. But then Steve, maybe sensing your need for reassurance, deepened it slightly. His hand came up to cup your jaw, his tongue swiping gently against your lower lip.
A jolt of panic shot through you. You froze. Then you pulled back, breaking the kiss after only a few seconds, turning your face into his chest.
You felt him go still. The hand on your jaw dropped. The arm around you tensed. The laugh track from the TV sounded cruel and mocking.
“Baby, can we talk about this?” Steve’s voice was low, carefully neutral.
“About what?” you mumbled into his t-shirt, playing dumb. Your heart was a frantic bird against your ribs.
“You know what. What Robin said. I know it got into your head. You’ve been acting weird ever since.”
“I’m not acting weird.” The protest was weak, even to your own ears.
Steve shifted, pulling back just enough so he could see your face. In the flickering light, his expression was painfully earnest, etched with a concern that made you want to cry. He nodded slowly. “Okay then.”
He leaned in and kissed you again. It was a test, and you both knew it. He poured everything into it—all the affection, the worry, the sheer Steve-ness of him. It was the kind of kiss that usually made your toes curl, that made the world shrink to just the two of you.
But still, after three seconds you pulled away.
A small, distressed noise escaped you, and you physically untangled yourself, pushing back against his chest.
“See,” Steve said, and the hurt in his voice was evident. He sat there, running a hand through his perfect hair, making it endearingly messy.
“You are being weird. You hardly want to touch me now, you pull away, and I just… fuck.” He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want it to be like this. Not with everything going on. I mean, you heard them in there. Shit’s probably gonna hit the fan any day now. I don’t want things to be weird between you and me when it does.”
He looked at you, his brown eyes wide and vulnerable. “I love you, baby. You know that, right?”
“I know, Steve, I love you too,” you whispered, tears finally spilling over. “Robin just got in my head a bit. I’m… I’m scared.”
“Of me?” He looked horrified.
“No! Well, kind of. Not you, per se..” You swiped at your cheeks, frustrated. “Of um… of that.”
You gestured downwards.
Oh, Steve thought.
You could see it register in his brain but you continued anyway.
“You know I’ve never done this before. So it kind of freaked me out. Robin being right, that yo-you’re big. Too big. What if it doesn’t fit or what if—” The words tumbled out quickly before you could stop them.
“Oh,” he breathed. He reached for you slowly, stopping just short, giving you the space to pull away if you wanted. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay.”
You shook your head, voice barely there. “Sorry, I’m being stupid—”
“No, no you’re not stupid.” Steve interrupted your rambling firmly, “Firstly, Robin’s an idiot, who shouldn’t have said that. And second, we don't have to do anything. Ever. I mean that. If the idea of me... down there... is scary, we don't have to do anything about it until you're ready.
“But I am ready,” you whispered, the confession torn from you. “I want you. I'm just... intimidated. By the... logistics.”
A soft, genuine smile touched his lips.
“Logistics, huh,” He squeezed your hand. "We can make it a little less intimidating. If you want.”
You blinked. “How?”
“Get you used to it. So it's not some big, scary uh, thing. It's just... a part of me.” His cheeks went faintly pink, but his gaze was steady on your eyes.
“You could... touch me. Just to see. No pressure or expectations. We don't even have to take our clothes all the way off. Just so you know what you're dealing with. So it's not so scary in your head.”
The offer was so vulnerable, so utterly Steve—turning his own body into a teaching tool to ease your fear—that your heart squeezed.
“Okay,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.
He nodded, his eyes soft. “Okay. You lead, alright? Whatever you want.”
With trembling fingers, you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. He lifted his hips slightly to help you, his movements careful and non-threatening. You pushed the soft fabric down, your eyes widening as he sprang free.
Up close, the reality of him was even more…daunting. And Robin was 100% right. Steve was huge. Thick and heavy, already half-hard just from the intimacy of the moment. You stared, a mix of awe and that old fear swirling in your gut.
“You can touch it,” he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low rasp. “It's just skin. It's just me.”
Hesitantly, you wrapped your fingers around the base. He was warm, the skin surprisingly soft and velvety over the rigid core of him. You gave a tentative stroke, and he hissed in a sharp breath, his stomach muscles clenching.
“Sorry!” you yelped, pulling your hand back.
“Don't be sorry,” he gasped, a breathless laugh escaping him. “That's uh... that's the point. It's sensitive. It's okay. You're not gonna break it, I promise.” He guided your hand back, covering it with his own for a moment before letting go. “See? It's just a part of me. It reacts to you. That's all.”
Emboldened, you explored him, your touch growing surer. You learned the weight of him in your palm, the way the head swelled under your thumb, the way his breathing hitched when you traced a certain vein. The fear began to recede, replaced by a fascinated curiosity.
And Steve was just as patient as he promised, letting you learn him and touch him so intimately.
“See?” he whispered after a few minutes, his voice strained. “Not so scary when it's just us, right?”
You shook your head, a real smile touching your lips for the first time in days. “No, not so scary.”
He leaned in and kissed you then, deep and slow and full of a promise that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with trust. When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes were serious. “We can stop right here. This is already more than enough.”
You looked from his earnest face down to where your hand still rested on him, feeling the throbbing heat of him. The anxiety was a quiet hum now, the love, the want, now that was louder.
“I don't want to stop,” you said, and you meant it.
Steve shakes his head, reaching for his pants, “Baby—”
“Steve.” you cut him off sharply, the heat between your legs getting warmer. You needed this and you were ready. “Please. I’m sure.”
“Okay, if you’re completely sure,” Steve starts, but you interrupt again.
“I am.”
“Okay, alright,” Steve says, as if he's talking himself up now. He pulls your body closer to him and places a deep kiss on your lips.
Steve stayed true to his word. He talked you through everything making sure nothing was intimidating, his voice a low, soothing rasp in the quiet room.
“Just gonna take this off, okay?” he murmured, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You nodded, lifting your arms, and he peeled it away, his eyes drinking you in a way that made you feel beautiful, not exposed. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
His own clothes followed, and your breath caught. You’d seen him without a shirt before, but this was different. In the dim light, he was all lean muscle and smooth skin, broad and solid. Hot. A fresh flutter of anxiety arose.
Steve saw it. He just kissed your shoulder, his hand splaying over your stomach. “It’s just me,” he whispered. “We’ll go so slow, I promise. You set the pace, remember.”
You nodded, ready.
He touched you like you were made of spun glass, his hands and mouth mapping your body, learning what made you gasp and arch off the mattress. Steve used his fingers first, making sure to take extra care stretching you gently, watching your face intently for any sign of discomfort.
As comfortable with him as you might be now, that still didn’t take away from the fact that he was still going to have to put it in, and you needed to be prepped properly. So he fingered you expertly, making sure to work his way up to three fingers so that he knew you were ready to take him.
“You’re doing so good,” he praised, kissing your temple. “So perfect for me.”
Steve made you come on his hand and then in his mouth, making sure you were absolutely soaked before he settled between your legs. He was propped on his elbows, his face close to yours. The tip of him pressed against you, and you both froze.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself. You took a deep breath. “Okay.”
He began to push forward, an inch of impossible, burning fullness. You stiffened, a small gasp escaping, clenching instinctively.
He stopped immediately. “Too much?”
“Just uh… a lot,” you panted, then got worried. “You sure it'll fit?”
“It will, baby,” Steve assured you with a gentle kiss. “I know, I know, just breathe for me.”
He dropped his forehead against yours, his own breathing ragged. He didn’t move, letting you adjust and relax your muscles, peppering your face with soft kisses. “Tell me when.”
You focused on his eyes, on the love and patience shining there. You focused on the feeling of him, a stretch that was slowly growing. You shifted your hips, experimentally.
A groan ripped from Steve’s throat. “Fuck…”
“More,” you whispered. “Please, Steve.”
He obeyed, sinking another inch, then another, in a slow, relentless glide that stole the air from your lungs. The feeling of being filled, utterly and completely, was overwhelming.
He was so big, stretching you to a limit you couldn’t have imagined, but the burn was edged with a piercing pleasure that grew with every millimeter he sunk into you.
His large dick, forced your walls open, stretching you out for the first time nice and wide.
Steve bites his lip hard to keep himself from sinking into you too fast. Your squelching cunt makes it difficult to restrain himself, especially because it makes an obscene sound with every inch he pushes into you.
The whole time, your muscles can’t help but flutter and try to suck him deeper while also trying to reject his prominent bulge from splitting you open.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his body trembling with restraint. “You’re taking me so good. So perfect. All of it, baby, just like that.”
Steve must’ve spent at least twenty minutes just feeding you his dick slowly, all at your own, agonizingly slow pace. You could feel the veins and thick head that were just in your hands molding you to fit him inside.
At the halfway mark, you look up at him, with large teary eyes. “Steve.”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Can you just put it all the way in?”
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yeah, I just want it over with. Please.”
“Alright, I can do that for you sweetheart. Take a deep breath for me, okay.”
You nod rapidly, not wanting to look and turning your head to the side. Steve takes that as an opportunity to latch on to your exposed neck, sucking hard to distract you from the stretch you were about to feel.
You count to three in your head, then inhale deeply. Before you can even finish taking a full breath, Steve sinks the rest of the way in.
“Mmph fuck.” you cry out at the pain, “God, Steve.”
“You okay, still with me?”
You didn’t really think you were.
The first half felt like nothing in comparison to this half. Steve only seemed to get bigger as he got closer to his base and god did you feel it. His warm body now pressed to yours completely, feeling the shared and growing stickiness between you two.
You felt a little dizzy at the feeling. Steve stilled again, letting you feel the fullness and getting readjusted to his length. “Look at that?” he whispered, his voice raw. “My girl taking me so well. See, nothing to be worried about. You were made for me, baby.”
He began to move then, with a rhythm that was gentle and painfully slow at first, then growing more confident as your body welcomed him, opening up, meeting his thrusts with tiny movements of your own.
The earlier fear was gone, completely burned away by the heat he thrusted into your core. He was everywhere—his scent, his sweat, his whispered praises in your ear, the solid wall of his chest against yours.
“Steve,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the taut muscles of his back.
“I know, baby, I know,” he repeated, his rhythm faltering for a second as he fought for control. “You’re so tight, so perfect. Gonna make me lose it.”
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, arching into him. The coil of pleasure in your lower belly was winding tighter, a pressure building that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
“Not gonna stop,” he promised, his voice gravelly with strain. He shifted slightly, angling his hips, and the next thrust sent a shockwave of pure, white-hot pleasure through you. You cried out, your vision blurring at the edges.
“There?” he breathed, doing it again. “That the spot?”
You could only nod, words stolen by the sensation. He focused on that angle, his movements becoming more purposeful, driving you relentlessly towards the edge. His own breathing grew more ragged, his thrusts losing a fraction of their perfect control.
“Come for me,” he urged, his lips brushing your ear. “Let go. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
It was the permission you didn’t know you needed. Your body seized, a silent scream caught in your throat as pleasure radiated out from your core. Your walls clamped down on him in a series of frantic, fluttering pulses, milking him deeply.
The sensation was too much for Steve. With a ragged, broken groan of your name, he buried his face in your neck and followed you over, his own release pumping into you in hot, pulsing waves. His hips jerked through the last few, shallow thrusts before he stilled, collapsing heavily against you.
For a long time, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing mingling in the quiet room, the frantic beat of his heart against your chest slowly returning to normal. He was still inside you, softening now.
Finally, Steve stirred, pressing a soft, damp kiss to your shoulder before carefully pulling out. You winced at the sudden emptiness, a faint, oversensitive ache settling in.
He immediately gathered you against him, tucking your head under his chin, his arms wrapping around you in a secure, possessive hold.
“You still doing okay?” he murmured.
You were more than okay. You were boneless, spent, a little sore and very cockdrunk, but utterly, completely at peace.
You tilted your head back to look at him. In the dim light, his hair was a wreck, his face flushed, his lips swollen from kissing. He looked utterly debauched and more beautiful than you’d ever seen him. A soft, sated smile played on his lips.
“Better than okay,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. You reached up, tracing the line of his jaw. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Let me go get you cleaned up, I’ll be right back.”
He slipped from the bed, moving with grace. You watched him pad naked to the connected bathroom, the sight of his strong back and the easy confidence in his movements sending a warm, drowsy aftershock through you. You heard the soft rush of water in the sink.
He returned a moment later with a warm, damp washcloth. His expression was soft, focused entirely on you. “Just gonna make you more comfortable,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Steve was gentle, so incredibly gentle, as he wiped the cooling sweat and combined release from your stomach and thighs. He was methodical, folding the cloth to a clean section.
But then you saw his hand pause, his brows drawing together for a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked down to the cloth, then quickly back to your face, a mask of calm slipping over his features a little too fast.
He tried to subtly turn the cloth over, to hide the side he’d been using.
But you’d already seen it. A vivid smudge of red against the pale cloth.
Your breath caught. A cold spike of panic shot through the warm haze of your afterglow. Blood. You’d known it could happen, logically, but seeing it… it made everything feel suddenly real and intense. Not to mention taking someone that big for your first time. What if he accidentally ripped you apart?
“Steve—”
Steve saw the shift in your eyes and immediately dropped the cloth onto the nightstand and cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.
“Hey, look at me, baby,” he said, his voice low and firm, anchoring you. “It's okay. It's completely normal. It doesn't mean anything is wrong. It's just a little bit. It's okay.”
Steve searched your face, his gaze unwavering. “Does anything hurt more than it should? Are you okay?”
You relaxed a bit, shifting your gaze and trying to take a mental inventory. There was a deep, pleasant ache, a feeling of being thoroughly used in the best way, and a sting where he’d been. Sharp, but not too alarming. Just the evidence of his size and your obvious newness.
You shook your head. “No. No, I'm okay. A bit sore. Just… seeing it surprised me.”
He nodded, understanding. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, a slow, lingering press of his lips. “I know. It's a lot. But you're okay. I've got you.”
He finished cleaning you up quickly, disposing of the cloth, then helped you sit up. “C'mon, let's get you to the bathroom. It'll help.”
Steve slid an arm around your waist, supporting your weight as you stood on wobbly legs, and walked you there. He waited just outside the door, giving you privacy but staying close enough that you could call out if you needed him. When you were done, he was there, helping dress you in PJs, which swallowed you whole, smelling like his soap and his skin.
Steve led you back to bed, which he’d already straightened, pulling back the covers. He guided you in, then climbed in beside you, immediately drawing you into his chest.
You arranged your limbs around him, tucking your head under his chin, his arms a solid band around you.
Steve placed soft, sleepy loving kisses to you, and you felt your body getting more heavy with exhaustion, your mind drifting on the edge of sleep.
Just before you slipped under, a thought, clear and undeniable, floated to the surface of your drowsy mind. You nuzzled closer, your lips brushing the skin of his chest.
“Steve?” you whispered, your voice slurred with sleep.
“Hmm?” he hummed, already half-gone.
A sleepy, utterly genuine smile curved your lips against his skin. “You're fucking huge.”
A silent shudder of laughter went through him. You felt the grin spread across his face even though you couldn't see it. He tightened his arms around you, pressing a smiling kiss into your hair.
“Yeah, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and smug, fond satisfaction. “I know.”
