Quarantined - steve rogers - 18+
after a mission to infiltrate a HYDRA base, you and Steve both get covered by a strange plant's pollen burst making you exceedingly horny. pairing: steve rogers x f!reader words: 5k warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, mentions of dom!steve, captain kink, minor vouyerism, yall are being monitored but you dont care, accidental creampie, pretty unedited
You nearly choke on your breath with only the strip of forehead pressed to the wall to ground you. The metal panel was cooling - a welcome feeling considering how your body seems closer to boiling itself from the inside than normal human temperatures. Even mutant temperatures, considering the sweat gathering in every bend of your body. It is difficult to focus on the room around you, but there wasn’t much to gather anyway with its use being a quarantine room.
An entire greenhouse had accosted you and Steve. This attack was a surprise to both of you, with your HYDRA target having put something in the soil. The roots tripping you and the haze of shimmering pollen that clung to everything and coated your nose and mouth was inescapable despite your best efforts. Regardless you were not prepared for biological warfare of this kind, and it cost you. You’d been showered off in a decidedly undignified way (more of a hose down in truth) just in time for the onset of symptoms. Your increased body temperature, for one.
Taking chances wasn't an option - even if Steve hadn't presented symptoms yet he needed to be cleared lest he infect someone else. So here you both were, stuck in a box of a room barely able to hold six cots with half a foot on either side. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours; you didn't know. What you did know was that your body was overheating and there wasn't room left in your mind to think about decency.
The cold metal frame of the cot barely cuts through the hot skin of your hands. Everything feels so extreme that for a moment you worry you’ll be stuck to the freezing surface, but you know better. The sweat leaving a visible shine on your skin was a helpful reminder of your reality. It isn’t enough to just press open skin to slightly cool metal. The fabric of your SHIELD branded sweatshirt and sweatpants was only useful in soaking up your sweat. If only you could focus long enough to tell if sweat really was excessive enough to start pooling in the crevices of elbows and knees. None of that matters because you aren’t cooling down and you are acting with the only barest grip on control.
“I need it off of me,” You groan, “-‘S too hot in here.” Your tone was nearly a whine and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It felt like Steve was watching you. Hardly a stretch, considering the lack of any real entertainment in the quarantine room. When you look up your suspicions are confirmed; complete with pale eyes swimming with worry. There’s something else beneath it though, but there’s no time for you to try to decipher it. Seeing the hard angles of his face and normally well kept hair slightly mussed from the earlier events ignited a wave of warmth from deep in your core. He had also changed into the SHIELD provided gray sweatpants and shirt, leaving the white undershirt's sleeves clinging to his biceps for your viewing. He must be so hot too. You’d certainly describe him that way; big shoulders and harsh light casting shadows, only enhancing each contour. Maybe his searching gaze was the same kind as yours. Clearly you’re getting delusional with the heat flash.
“Try to breathe slowly. Stress is only going to make you feel hotter.” Steve’s trying to be soothing. His voice is smooth, low, and seems to miss your ears and go straight to your pussy. There he goes, always trying to help. It would be better if you weren’t using your clenched teeth as an air filter and hadn't just bent halfway over to put your forehead to a cool spot of a cot’s metal frame. In fact, his advice does the opposite of what he wants when your grip falters and the wave of warmth from your core returns. His eyes are still on you and there’s nothing left over to brace you for the feeling of his gaze. His seriousness made you stand. Even now the want to follow his orders felt like more of a need. Only because he is less affected.
He’s so far from you in his spot across the room. Steve’s posture is markedly stiffer than usual. The waves of warmth refused to let up but gave you room to take in his own state. Steve was sweating too, his own sheen of sweat covering wherever wasn’t covered by clothing. There seemed to be some spots of his shirt where you could see it too, but his hand gripping a cot’s frame holds your focus. You’re both gripping something to cool you, but you can see the flex of his hands. Hands spread across the metal bar with finger spacing like he could wield it if necessary. His knuckles are pale, and the vein running along the top of his hand was pronounced as it led to a taut forearm. It wasn’t even about thinking anymore, as a new wave of warmth overtook you and destroyed your defenses.
Your hands fly to the collar at your chin. The downside of your comfortable clothes was how heavy and warm they stayed. With reckless fervor you tugged at your sweatshirt.
"Hey, we can call for something to change into-" Steve's voice was tight and rushed, "Hold on."
"It's sticking to me," You don't stop. "Need it off-"
The sleeves of your sweatshirt are pushed up. Cool air soothes your flushed skin, drawing a sigh of relief. It felt so nice. You needed more skin to feel the air... Maybe when there isn't fabric clinging to each inch of your body you'd be able to cool down. In the sweatsuit it was impossible to stay cool. Each moment made you burn hotter. Feverishly you start to pull the bottom of the garment up to your chest, halfway to removing the sweatshirt as a whole. Now, the chill of the quarantine room brushed along your waist. It makes you shiver.
What stops you is Steve clearing his throat. When you turn your focus him his face turns pink and he makes eye contact more tentative than you'd ever seen from him. Steve can't seem to look at you half undressed and focuses on anything else instead. When he looks at the cot behind him you catch a glimpse of Steve clenching his jaw and a flash of the vein running down his neck. You were drowning in heat all over again. Looking elsewhere didn't help much. The next spot your eyes found to focus on was his adamantine grip on the cot frame. If the vein along his neck was enough to make you pause, the ones stretching up his forearms and around the flexed muscles made your jaw slack. He was white knuckling his grip. Would he bruise you with that grip? Would you like it?
"Uhm, go ahead and take it off," Steve sounded nearly pained, "Just let me turn around."
"Okay."
You didn't want him to turn around. In fact, you wanted him to see you. To have him take in the sight of you stripping from your clothes, the reflection of the light in the layer of sweat coating your skin. The sweatshirt was pulled up to your bust before Steve could fully pivot, your hands moving of their own accord. It might've been your imagination, but it seemed like he caught a glimpse of you by the way his ears were tinged with pink.
Steve turned quickly, but you still caught his growing blush. Realistically you were bright red as well. With how flushed you felt, there was no doubt. The cool air wrapped around your exposed skin in a sweet salve that almost made you feel better. Peeling the sweatshirt all the way off left your bra exposed. The realization stirred another wave of warmth in your core. Does he not feel any of this? Your thoughts are incredulous as you try to study Steve's posture.
He's turned away from you, each hand gripping the end of a cot's frame. His ears are red and his chest rises and falls in a deliberate slowness. The tension in his arms leaves every muscle defined. The thought of his muscled hands on you stirs another wave of that evil, delicious warmth pooling through your waist and thighs. It was still way too hot. How would his fingers feel as they parted your folds? Would he slowly slide them in, or maybe spread your wetness to your thighs before giving you the digit?
"Do you not feel-" You stopped yourself, jarred at how you sounded so desperate. After trying to level your voice, you tried again. "Do you not feel anything?"
"Do you have anything on under the sweatshirt?" His voice is strained. Still, it was a sort of answer. He seemed to be feeling something.
"My bra..." Steve's head twitched as if to look back at you, but his whole torso locks into place to keep him facing away. He wanted to look at you too, then. Maybe you could get him to.
"Steve," There was no attempt to even your voice, "What are you feeling?" Because you were feeling an ever present need to strip Steve; to lick the sweat on his neck and roll your hips into his while-
"For your sake I can't turn around." Steve's voice was shaky. There was something to it, though. An almost raw quality that scratched the back of your brain and washed over you in a hot wave from head to toe. Your suspicion was correct, and only more clearly so with each tensed muscle of his you could see from his place facing away from you. For a moment you can't tell if you imagined the wet spot forming on your pants but decided against checking.
"I hadn't asked you to," There wasn't enough of you to feel ashamed at your breathless tone. Steve bit back a mmph and his knuckles went white. If that was how he sounded trying to hold back, what would he sound like beneath you? When he let it all out? "But you can." Your hands absently trailed your body. Fingers trailed soft circles on the skin of your breasts, dipped beneath the bra, and tickled your own skin slightly as you couldn't surmount the growing urge to be touched. Steve seemed resolved to stay put, silent. A man of stone, ghosts of veins along strained muscles. You paused to listen for his breathing to be happily greeted by his shallow hasty breaths. If he was going to resist, fine, but your resolve was crumbling quickly.
The cot behind you was cool to the touch; its crisp sheets only touched by the air conditioning until then. It was nearly a relief when you laid down. Just enough comfort to let you slip your hand beneath your waistband and feel just how wet you were. If you needed to take care of your drenched pussy yourself, so be it.
Before you could part your lips your slick was on your fingers. Oh. So that wet spot was very real. A burn of humiliation nearly took hold, only to be swallowed by the clench of a needy core. You let a finger slide along your clit in a tentative stroke. The sensation jolted to your toes and all the way to your scalp. Holding back the whine it drew felt torturous. Being that sensitive was new, and hiding your sounds from someone who could so easily make you moan seemed like such a waste.
His arm twitched. Steve let out a shaky exhale, daring to move in an attempt to shake off whatever he was thinking. So he planned to just let you touch yourself quietly behind him? Not fair.
Each circle you made on your clit made your hole clench, and you were nearly drawing blood from your bottom lip from letting your noises bubble up inside.
To pretend you were silent would be a lie. Pathetic whimpers left your lips despite your efforts, and however quiet you felt didn't matter. Steve heard. He heard enough that his head turns just so to make it easier for him to hear you. Whether you were in his peripheral vision was a gamble (and not knowing how much his super serum enhanced it) but this confirmed he was listening. Now to make him turn more.
You rubbed your clit more fiercely, getting a weak moan from yourself. The heat in your core flared. You needed more and had no will to tease yourself. Two fingers circled your hole, collecting wetness before sliding in. You curved them inside yourself as you plunged them in. You didn't feel full enough. Steve's fingers like this would probably give the stretch you were craving.
Touching yourself got to him; you could barely see him watching through his peripherals and his mouth was gently hung open. His continued ragged breathing only spurred you on. What he thinking about the way you'd take his fingers, too? The flex of his forearm as he tightened his grip on the cot's frame sent you spinning. The thought of his muscled hands rubbing circles on your clit, replacing your own inside you and getting to feel him brush against that spot you are just shy of from your position.
That, and not having your toys. You were going old school and it was not cutting it. Each stroke from your fingers added fuel to the fire growing within you. Now the small moans leaving your lips were mixed with pleasure and frustration. You've hit the wall.
“Shit,” You hiss.
Steve's chest heaved and his head turned to look before he could stop himself. In the second before he snapped his head forward, he got a full view of you shirtless; spread on the cot with one hand down your pants and the other cupping your breast in your bra.
"Fuck," Steve groaned, then a harsh breath in, "What are you thinking about?"
The question had to be a taunt. Couldn't he tell by your sounds? His words triggered a warm pulse around your fingers as you imagined his face between your thighs while speaking them. The heat was overwhelming. With how your own strokes only made the need to orgasm intensify there was no hope in trying to tease yourself. You couldn't cum if you tried - which you were. Very much so. Except, the only issue was that your fingers weren't enough. Grinding your clit on the heel of your palm did nothing to quell the fire. It was kerosene. If he would just help you. Please.
"You-" There was no point trying to finish the sentence. You were incapable of answering without moaning whatever word it would be. But he needed to know the answer, didn't he? "Your fingers in me..." Holy fuck, he was looking now. Steve's eyes were fixed on you, still gripping the cot but turned to face you.
"My hands?" There's no smile on his face, but the low rumble only makes you quiver around your own fingers. His tone makes you whine, nodding your head to swallow the flush of embarrassment trying to overtake you. Here you were, rutting against yourself and moaning for him to touch you. Luckily, there was too much need to care. “-Just my hands?“
No. Not just his hands. His mouth, his thighs, pulling down his pants and taking him in your mouth. Except, Steve still isn’t touching you. “No-” Your fingers are circling your clit with as much speed as you can muster.
He wasn’t touching you. He was watching you. Steve’s mouth fell open as you dipped a finger back into yourself, sinking deep and drawing a frustrated whine. Pupils dilated beyond memory, his gaze was fixed on you. The way he dragged his thumb along the cot rail in time with your thrusts made you test a forming theory.
A few slow, edging drags on your fingers made his thumb’s pace slow. Oh?
You gave yourself a few distinct pumps, his thumb nearly twitching in time with your speed. Two instances was enough proof. Steve was transfixed. The knowledge made you throb. He had to be toying with you.
“What else?” Steve’s voice was more breath than sound. Now that just felt mean. Didn't he know? With how his eyes stayed fixed on you he had to be able to see into your mind. Couldn't he tell that you were wishing your fingers were his, that his face was between your thighs and his stubble would scratch your soft skin? That you wanted his hands on your hips while he fucked you without pause?
“Please,” You said, any use of language gone when you wanted to tell him to get over there and fuck you already.
“I won’t know what you want unless you tell me,” He sounded reasonable, but the low rumble in his tone was telling. This wasn’t just restraint for him, he was enjoying this. Seeing you writhe on the bed nearly begging for him was what he wanted.
“I can’t - I need you Steve,” You were whining now, and there was no ounce of you to stop yourself, “Fuck me, please.” Was anyone watching you two? Did the thought even matter at that point? Questions that you would take seriously if your brain weren’t so fuzzy and your body wasn’t on fire.
“Yeah?” Steve moved closer, “You need me? Not just someone to fill you?” His tone was nearly mocking, and there was nothing in you to answer except to shake your head.
Rough hands slid up your legs with feather light touches. His fingertips hovered on your thighs. You could only nod, mad you didn’t take your pants off completely in your rush moments ago. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your sweats and pulled them down, then off your feet, and laid them on the cot a foot away. You pulled your fingers from yourself, almost complaining again at how empty you felt.
Steve looked hungry if there was ever a time for him to seem that way. His eyes were dark and head low as he kneeled by the bed. The feeling of his warm breath on your thighs made you shiver. You were so exposed, and he was fully clothed with sweat marks on his clothes. He was feeling it too, but seemed to take pride in denying himself a little release.
Your legs spread a bit wider, a hand coming to grab his hair and push him towards your cunt. He stiffened, something flashing in his eyes before he said, “You want my mouth too, doll?”
You nearly broke. How could you be such a mess and he has barely touched you?
“Please.” You seemed to be saying that a lot.
His mouth was on you. Sucking your clit, flicking his tongue, and one finger circling your entrance but never going in. His stubble was scratching your thighs - just how you imagined. You reach down and grab him by his hair. Steve groans, pushing his face into you even more and wrapping his arms around your legs, pulling you into him and keeping the previously mentioned legs on his shoulders. He was eating you like he was starving, and the moments he sucks in any breath sound more like groans than him trying to breathe.
“You taste so good, baby.” Steve buries his face in you again, and burying a finger deep in you too.
His fingers were thicker than yours, as one is closely followed by a second. A delicious stretch came from his fingers as he pumped slowly, sucking on your clit and curling his fingers inside to draw a pornographic moan from you.
The sight of him was enough to make you cum right there. He had moved from kneeling to being on the cot with you, stomach down on the cot with your legs in the air as he devoured you. When he curled his fingers again, making you rut into his mouth, Steve ground into the sheet beneath him, something in his hips seemingly desperate to be buried in you. Getting your words together to ask for more was hard when he slipped a third finger into you and pumped with a pace that ripped any thoughts away. There was no time to think, not when he was filling you like that. Steve’s resolve seems unshakable as you got closer to your peak.
“Steve I’m-“
“Captain.” Fuck.
“Capt- I’m gonna cum,” You whine, the stars creeping up on you. Calling him ‘Captain’, his figners deep inside you, his mouth on your clit, and arm holding you in his grip so you couldn’t get away even if you wanted. You were writhing on him, trying to get his fingers deeper and more of you in his mouth at any moment. So close. Steve’s fingers sped up, and he buried his face in your pussy with such fervor that there was only enough time for a mental note of how fucking hot it was before you came with nothing more than a pleasured “Captian!”
When Steve pulls away, his mouth sheens with your wetness, and your mouth falls open at the sight. He put his fingers in your mouth, and you can taste yourself on his skin. His eyes are fixed on your lips as you close them around his digit. Steve's over you now, hip to hip. As you circle him with your tongue his breath falters and he starts to lean down before stopping himself. Instead he slips his fingers from your mouth and grabs your chin to drag you in for a kiss. Steve tastes like you. You’re on his lips, and as yours part to explore his mouth you taste yourself on his tongue. It’s still not enough. He’s got just enough stubble to lightly scratch your skin as his kiss moves from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck. The feeling of his warm breath just below your ear made you shiver. You needed to touch him, to do something. With frantic hands you pulled the hem of Steve’s shirt upwards, He huffs out something resembling a laugh, lifting himself off you to take his shirt off fully.
You weren’t the only one covered in a layer of sweat. There isn’t even time to bask in the sight of him above you because your legs are around his waist and he’s pressing his erection into you. Even through the thick cotton you could feel his size, and your pussy pulsed around nothing. It was torture to have him so close but still not where you wanted him.
“You sound so pretty,” Steve’s eyes were hooded, voice low as he ran his hands up your waist. “Tell me how you want it.”
His words were so fucking filthy and you ground your hips against his. Instead of turning a thought into words, you just whined. You wanted him to keep talking. Each of his words made you throb.
"I need you to fuck me, please," Finally you were able to vocalize your craving, "I need to feel you." Steve ground his hips into you as a response, his eyes flickering as your breath hitched.
His pants were off before you registered the idea to help. Steve's cock was standing at attention, vein on the underside made your mouth water. Maybe you wanted to suck him off instead. He was big, too. Steve's erection was long enough to reach past your pubes and closer to your belly button. Would it all fit? The idea that maybe it wouldn't, that he'd sink into you and still have more to give, made you wetter.
"Please," You whined. It was hard to think with your pulsing need. How Steve was restraining himself seemed impossible to you. Pupils blown, hands running along your thighs, mouth slightly open. It's like he was swimming in the sight of you. If he looked like this now, how would he look fucking you?
"You're being so polite now," His lips twitched to hide a smirk, "You usually have no problem telling me what to do."
He was making fun of you, drawing out a warm flash of embarrassment soaked in want. Steve took his dick in his hand and rubbed his tip up along your slit, lining himself up with your entrance to slide into you.
"Fucking finally," You moaned as the head of his cock moved past your folds and entered your vagina. Steve was stretching you deliciously and there was still more to go.
"Yeah? You wanted me that bad, doll?" Steve's voice shakes as he sinks further before pulling out a bit, "Can you even take all of me?"
"Yes," You wanted all of him. "Fuck, more, please."
Steve slid in slowly. A low moan spilled from him as you took more of his length, your walls stretching around him and inviting him deeper. His hands took the back of your thighs to put your legs over his shoulders. Then he pushed even deeper, sinking nearly all of his length into your cunt. Steve has one hand on you hip, and the other trails up your stomach to your mouth. How he slips his fingers into your mouth is just so posessive you are rolling your hips on him to try to take him deeper and he's moaning.
"Shit," Steve grits his teeth as he watches you drool on his fingers and try your best to fuck him. Your cunt is pulsing on his cock as he just sits inside you, unmoving. "You feel so good, sweetheart."
Only then does Steve slowly pull out of you. As he admires how much of his cock you took his hips twitch, and his grip on your hip tightens as he tries to fuck you slowly. Watching him tense his muscles to hold himself back makes you throb, wanting to feel just how rough he really wanted to fuck into you. Even your whine was muffled by his fingers in your mouth. They still tasted like you, just barely, and your hips twitched in Steve's grip. Steve sunk into you with force as the feeling of you whimper into his hand, and the moan made him growl. His fingers slipped from your mouth to hold you by the jaw.
Steve's eye looked so dark with pupils blown as you moaned with each of his thrusts. Each sound you made seemed to break his resolve further until the hand on your hip moved to rub circles on your clit. If you were egging him on before, the moans erupting from you spurred each forceful thrust into you. Sure, you'd be sore tomorrow but did it really matter? How he was fucking into you block any other real thought from forming.
Each of your moans drew one from Steve above you. His mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowing with each thrust as his eyes scanned your face. Your orgasm was approaching. Could he tell?
"Gonna cum, Steve, I-" Steves grip on your jaw tightened and he roughly turned your face to the side before making you face him again. Fuck, I called him 'Steve'.
"Steve?" He pounded into you, sending your eyes rolling back into your head. "Try again." Steve's pace didn't slow and he gave you no break to try to gather your thoughts. You had a hard time even forming them since getting into the room. Now there was no hope. Steve was thrusting into you with a power that pushed the cot into the wall behind you with each one, hand holding your face to look him in the eyes, and now you had to remember things?
"Captain," You were barely able to form the word as your hands wandered his back and into his hair to get any grip on Steve. Your fingers found purchase and he groaned at your hold on him. "Want all of you." Even if you tried there was no way to hide the pleading from your voice. He was fucking you so well but you didn't feel all of him yet. You needed to feel totally full.
And you did.
Steve sunk fully into your wet cunt, hips pressing into you as he ground into you with his full length practically stuffed inside.
"Since-" Steve interrupted himself with a moan, "Since you used your manners." He pulls out just to thrust all of his length into you again before adding, "You take me so well, doll."
You were melting at his words, at his hands still working your clit, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip and denying the pleasure of it between your lips. Each thrust you rocked into him, chasing the orgasm you felt building. Steve turned your face to the side to give him space to dip his head to your neck and leave sloppy kisses below your ear. His hot breath fanned over your skin as he licked down your neck to nibble where it meets your shoulder.
Steve's kisses muffled his moans into your skin as his pace quickened. He was practically rutting into you with how sloppy he became. Each kiss on your neck became rougher until Steve tore his face away to bury it in the cot. You couldn't muffle you moans, however. The grip he held on your jaw, face turned away as your vision blurred, did nothing to stop you from openly whining for Steve. His name tumbling from you lips like a prayer, the heat and need meeting in a crescendo as you finally came. Steve's fingers kept circling your clit as he pumped into you, your orgasm coming in waves. Yours spurred Steve into his, and he came with a wrecked moan before he was able to pull out.
"Shit, sorry." Steve's face had gone red, but he still stared at you. The heat from before seeped from your body, but you still weren't satisfied. You needed more Steve. Once wasn't enough.
"What if I still want more?" Your question made a grin flash across Steve's face. He wasn't done with you yet, either.
