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wendibird · 6 years ago

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If This is a Dream... (Ch. 1)

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Sam X Eileen Wordcount: 4,803 Warnings: Canon Character Death (already happened), Angst (eventual happy ending), Sex mentioned but nothing explicit is shown Summary: Directly following the events of 14X13 "Lebanon" Sam receives a tip about a restless spirit haunting a particular patch of woods in South Carolina, one who is deaf and has asked for him by name. He must now deal with the thought of putting to rest someone he once cared for a lot, but will things go that simply? And in the midst of all the other problems on his plate, is he even ready to deal with the feelings of loss that he's tucked away for so long? Author’s Note: This was spawned from a writing prompt given by @becaamm for a Valentine's Day challenge. We had a list of songs and a list of lines, and we had the option of picking one of each or two lines, but I just zeroed in one of the lines which immediately inspired what this fic has turned into. "If this is a dream, I really don’t want to wake up"|

Also, I'm a horrible procrastinator who procrastinates and I didn't get the whole fic written up in time. BUT, I'd say I have enough done for a fairly decent first chapter. It will probably only be 2 chapters in total, though it may extend to 3 depending on how far down various plot-bunny trails I go. (It was SUPPOSED to be between 500 and 7,000 words, but I'm pretty sure it's going to go over that.) Cross-posted on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796449/chapters/41985947

Artist Credit: @idreamofplaid made the wonderful aesthetic board for me to go along with this. She’s awesome!

Sam's dreams had never really been anything to look forward to. As a child they had often been filled with flames, or shadowy figures moving just out of the field of his vision, or yellow eyes and a voice telling him dark things he didn't want to remember. After Jess there were more flames, but the face within them had become one he knew intimately better, and those persistent feelings of longing, guilt, anguish and anger pervaded everything. Years upon years of fighting evil and not always winning only seemed to add more fodder for his subconscious to torture himself with. Almost two centuries in hell hadn't exactly helped either. So when he sometimes found himself dreaming about one other person he'd failed to save, one other person who'd meant something to him but was now gone forever, well, he honestly hadn't thought too much of it.

Sometimes when he dreamed of Eileen, she was running through some darkened woods, her breathing fast and heavy with more than just her physical exertions. There was sometimes a note of panic, of desperation in every breath that passed her lips, and sometimes another creature's breathing could be heard, or felt; harsh and snarling. Sometimes he felt searing pain across his own back, even as the invisible predator pounced on her. Other times, the forest was still and the moon was full, and he and Eileen sat together, curled in the roots of an ancient tree, talking with hands and lips and eyes to one another about things he could never remember upon waking. And still other times they clutched each other in a tight embrace, hands gliding over sweat-dampened skin and unfulfillable promises murmured from desperate lips in between sharp intakes of breath and tingling surges of sensation that left him gasping awake, disoriented and aching with the sudden loss.

They didn't happen that often. Though every time they did, Sam felt the persistent, hollow pain of her death linger for days. With everything that had gone on since her death though, there were plenty of other nightmares vying for his nightly attention, and if he hadn't really noticed that they never seemed to happen at the Bunker, or anywhere else west of the Mississippi, well, he could probably be excused.

Tonight he probably wouldn't have had to worry anyway, even if he weren't in the Bunker. A crushed pearl and then his father had been fading from his sight, for the second time in his life. Although this time... well, he wasn't exactly happy, but it wasn't the same as before either. Things he'd wanted to tell his dad for a long time had finally been given voice, and a certain feeling of resolution soothed old scars he'd almost forgotten he'd even had. But it didn’t quite take the sting out of the knowledge that they’d had him there for a short while and then had to lose him again, like so many other people in their lives. His brother and Mom had retired to the kitchen some while ago to reminisce over a bottle of whiskey and he'd settled himself back into the library, going through yet more materials on angelic lore. He seriously doubted he'd even be going to bed before the next day dawned.

Once Cas had been filled in on the strange events of that day, he’d offered to heal both him and Dean from the injuries sustained while fighting his alternate self, but they'd both declined, claiming nothing was damaged that wouldn't heal on its own, and their angel's powers had been noticeably affected by Heaven's energy crisis. They didn't want him draining himself on their account when something much more pressing might come up later. Now, Castiel was down in one of the supplementary store rooms, as determined as he himself was to find another way of dealing with Michael than that metal box. He was going through the various books and boxes of relics that Sam hadn't had a chance to get to yet, and would bring him anything that looked promising.

With a heavy sigh Sam thunked another weighty volume onto the "not any help" pile on the table, which was sadly, much larger than the "might be some help" pile. (Which was still larger than the as-yet non-existent "will actually help us" pile. But, he still hoped, and still had a clear spot reserved for it, just in case.)

He took a moment to absently rub at his temples, considering the magnitude of the problem they faced. Thoughts of magic golden eggs, metal boxes (a coffin, really), spells, charms, Enochian sigils and an industrial grade fridge door held closed with a screwdriver all floated through his head. So many directions things could go, and most of them not good. But he'd meant what he'd told Dean, that they would find another way, and he was determined to keep that promise.

Just as he was about to reach for the next book in the "yet to go over with a fine-toothed comb" pile, he was interrupted by a jingle from his phone. With a sigh, he reached into his shirt pocket for it, his brows furrowing when he saw the unknown number listed on the screen. He briefly considered letting it go to voicemail, but then decided against it. Between their Hunters, Jody’s and Donna's contacts, and the few other Hunters they had a passing understanding with, there was too much of a chance it could be someone or something important. (Or just someone they knew who'd had to replace a damaged or otherwise compromised phone.)

So with that in mind he swiped the "accept call" symbol. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end came through a bit choppy, apparently not having a good signal, but he could still make out the gist of the words. "Hello? -is Sam Win-ester?"

"Yes." He responded, still feeling a little guarded. "I can barely hear you."

"-old on." There were some sounds of shifting around, and then a few sharp swears as whoever he was apparently tried to move to a better location. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah," Sam responded, still not recognizing the voice on the other end, although it did sound vaguely familiar. "Who is this?"

"It's me!" came the oh so helpful response. "Ed."

Sam waited, hoping for more to go on.

"Ed Zeddmore."

Sam thought his eyes might roll out of their sockets if they weren't attached in so firmly. "Oh... Right. Ghostfacers." He couldn't keep the tiredness out of his voice. "What do you want?"

"Well..." came the hesitant reply, "Not really the Ghotsfacers anymore... Harry left for good. Got back with that girl he was interested in and married her."

Sam couldn't really bring himself to feel sorry for Ed or care about his personal issues, not with the main big problem along with a bunch of other little problems all heaped onto his plate. "Look," he tried. "I'm sorry to hear that things didn't work out with you two. But I don't really see how I can-"

"Oh! No, not... not asking anything like that." Ed interrupted then continued on briskly. "I still look up hauntings you see. Solo though. Still interested in the paranormal and all that but... well, I try to stay away from the really dangerous sounding ones."

He didn't outright say it, but Sam could practically hear the unspoken "The ones you guys usually take care of." With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat. "Yeah. Um, that's probably for the best, you know."

"Yeah." The despondent tone in his voice was clear even over the still somewhat staticy line. Sam really wished the guy would just get to the point of why ever he'd called.

"So..?"

"Right. Yeah." The other man audibly cleared his throat. "So, I was looking into this haunting in South Carolina. Just some sightings really, and a few odd occurrences happening, but no deaths. No injuries even. Just witnesses saying that this ghostly figure would sometimes appear, running in the woods like they were being chased by something. Sometimes screams were heard. Sometimes it seemed like they were trying to communicate with people but it never seemed to work out well."

Sam had already resumed reaching for the next book on the table as Ed was relaying the details of the case. "Okay... sounds like a non-violent, restless spirit. Probably either needs closure of some kind or to be put to rest. You should be able to handle that." Sam had to admit to himself, even if the Ghostfacers HAD been annoying, they had managed to get enough of a real picture of the supernatural to deal with something low-scale like that, even if Ed was going solo.

"Oh, yeah." He agreed readily. "Yeah, I mean, I was going to. Even tried talking to her. But I think this one... well, it's really something you should come down here to help with."

"Why's that Ed?" Sam asked tiredly, flipping through the pages of the old, leather-bound treatise on the intricacies of the angelic hierarchy.

"Well, 'cause she asked for you. By name." Sam's hand froze, his brows drawn together in puzzlement. Something niggled at the back of his head. Like, the various threads of information should already mean something.

"What?"

"Yeah, she was asking for Sam Winchester. I tried talking back to her but it was like she couldn't hear me. And it looked like she might be trying to use sign-language. I mean... have YOU ever heard of a deaf ghost?"

It felt like the edges of the room started to white out as his heart suddenly clenched in his chest.

South Carolina. A wooded area. A deaf, restless spirit, asking for him. By name.

A cold, heavy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach along with a spreading numbness. A numbness that some distant, clinical part of his mind unhelpfully informed him was a typical reaction to sudden shock, intended to help the individual deal with the present situation so they could sort their feelings out later. With a slight tremble, his hand reached for the pad of paper and pencil he had nearby for taking down notes. "Where?" His voice came out rougher than he'd wanted.

"Um, here, I have coordinates." As he rattled them off, Sam wrote them down. And yeah, it was the same area where she'd been found. "So..." Ed ventured uncertainly, having picked up on the sudden shift in Sam's emotions.

"Yeah." Sam said tightly. "I'll take care of it."

"Want some help on it?" The other man offered, seeming all too anxious to team up with someone again, even if he hadn't had the best track-record in the past of working with the Winchesters.

"No." Sam didn't even try to soften it, as the lump in his chest seemed to grow tighter. "No, I'll deal with it. I'm... I'm already familiar with... Just, go on. She... she's not going to hurt anyone." It had been well over a year, but the pain of her loss was already welling up inside him, like an old injury that you thought had mostly healed until you managed to wrench it just the wrong way and it made itself known again.

"Okay. Um.. yeah." Ed stammered, having not expected the emotions he could hear in the Hunter's voice, despite Sam's efforts to keep himself under control. "So, good luck, and all that." Sam ended the call before he said something he'd regret.

His phone fell to the table and his head fell into his hands as he tried to fend off emotions that now assailed him, reverberating through his mind like a damned echo chamber. The certain knowledge that this was Eileen. The gut-wrenching pain he'd felt when he'd gotten that call from Jody, telling him that she'd been found dead. The even worse feeling when they'd gone there and seen her actual body, cold and still like so many others they'd viewed over their bloody careers as Hunters. The knowledge that she'd been trying to reach them but hadn't made it. The questions left unanswered, until the day he'd cracked into that hard drive he'd taken from the BMOL's base and among other things found her case-file and the cold, clinical explanation of what they'd... of what Ketch had done to her. He'd never directly brought it up to the former assassin, once the man had more or less joined their side. But after the fall-out of Michael’s initial possession of Dean he'd firmly suggested that if Ketch still wanted to help them, to do so overseas. To follow up on leads in Britain and Europe that they had no way of seeing to themselves. Ketch hadn't argued the point.

Even as Sam was still reeling from the news Dean's distinctive footsteps wandered in from the hallway to the kitchen and up the steps into the library. "Hey, Geek-boy," he said by way of greeting.

Sam startled a little, raising his head from his hands and trying to wipe casually at his face, as if he was just tired. "Hey... Mom turn in?"

Dean took in his brother's posture, the quaver he tried to hide from his voice, the extra moisture on his cheeks as well as his red-rimmed eyes and sighed heavily before plunking one of the tumblers he'd brought with him down in front of Sam, filling it half-full from the bottle of Jack he was also carrying. "You know..." he ventured, taking the seat across from his brother, "you coulda joined us. I know-" he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, "well, you and Dad seemed to have kind of worked some stuff out, but it couldn't have been any easier on you than the rest of us."

Sam shook his head a little, not drinking from the glass, though Dean figured from the look on his face that he really needed it. "Dean... it's not- I mean, yeah, that wasn't easy but that's not why-"

"And look," Dean continued, having noticed the various piles of books, "I know you're all gung-ho to find some special archangel fix-it in all this stuff, but man, you gotta sleep too."

Sam's sigh was almost exasperated, though there was still a slight hitch in it. "Yeah... sleep. Cause THAT'S ever nice and-" his head suddenly tilted and his brows furrowed, as he got that look on his face that Dean had become well accustomed to over their lives. It was the look of his braniac brother fitting seemingly random pieces of information together into something that made sense. "Son-of-a-bitch..."

Dean waited a few moments to see if Sam would continue, but when his brother's expression shifted from dawning comprehension to something distinctly more pained, he spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. "Care to share with the class?"

Sam closed his eyes for a long moment before pushing the pad of paper over to Dean, who swiveled it around to take a look at it. He saw notations of book titles and page numbers, a few lines here and there that didn't make a lot of sense to him out of context, a few lines of symbols that looked to be Enochian and then larger and away from everything else, some numbers that looked like they could be map coordinates. They were heavily circled also. Shooting a questioning look up at Sam, he shrugged. "Are the coordinates for someplace special?"

The taller hunter nodded. "Got a call about a non-violent, restless spirit. She's been appearing sometimes, trying to communicate but apparently that's been difficult because she's deaf." Dean started to get a sinking feeling in his gut, one which only got worse as his brother continued. "But she managed to ask for me. By name. And this is where most of the sightings have been."

Dean didn't keep map coordinates in his head, but even without that, he had a fairly good guess where this was leading. And the clench in his gut only got worse as his brother's behavior began to make sense. "It's Eileen, isn't it?"

"Yeah, probably." Sam was resting his forehead against one of his hands now. "Those are for the area where she was-" he couldn't quite say it, but Dean didn't need him to.

"Well..." he knew nothing could make this situation "okay" but he still wanted to find something to help his brother out with it. "I mean, you said she's not being violent. So, that's good. Maybe she just needs closure or something."

Sam was nodding. "Yeah, that's what I'm hoping too." He straightened up again, seeming to have come to a decision and began to shut down his laptop. "Look, I know there's still a lot to do here, and I don't want you to think I'm ditching-out on you, but I think I need... I mean, she asked for me specifically. I owe her that much."

"Hey, seriously," Dean did his best to reassure his brother, "it's okay. Look, I'm in no shape to drive tonight, but we can get an early start in the morning, and-"

Sam shook his head. "I'm leaving tonight Dean. And it's okay." He pointedly pushed the glass of whiskey back over towards the other Hunter. "I'm fine to make the drive. This should only take a day or two."

Dean blamed the five or so other glasses he'd had already for being a bit slow on the uptake, but when it finally clicked he felt his "Big Brother Warning Bells" going off like crazy. "Wait, hold up. You're NOT just gonna waltz in there alone. If you're that desperate to leave tonight, fine. For this I'll let you drive. But I'm coming with you."

Sam was already shaking his head. "Dean... look. I appreciate it." Dean could tell from his tone that he meant it, "But I need to deal with this alone."

"Sam-"

"No Dean!" A hint of the anger and desperation that he'd seen in his brother's eyes a few nights ago in a parking lot in Iowa was resurfacing as he abruptly rose to his feet, shoving the chair back with legs and almost knocking it over. "This is going to be hard enough as it is. I have to put her to rest, one way or another. And I just had to send our Dad back to the past so he could die like he's supposed to." Dean flinched a little at that. No one had really asked, but he knew that there was no way they would have made their Mom be the one to crush the pearl, and when Sam had set things up to do it himself, he'd honestly been relieved. He wasn't sure if he could have done it either, as much as everyone had understood that it had to happen. But he should have realized it wouldn't have been any easier for Sammy. "And if things get bad with Michael... if I can't find another way in time..." He didn't need to finish that thought for Dean to see where it was going. Not with the promise he'd extracted from both Sam and Cas to put him in the box if things went south.

Dean shook his head and rose, swiftly stepping around the table and over to Sam to rest his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hey!" He squeezed, wanting to make sure he had his attention. "Hey," he continued a little softer, "I told you I believe in us, Sam, and I do. And I believe in you. I know you're gonna find something. So, don't let that keep hanging over you. But..." his gut twisted a little, his instincts yelling at him to not say this, but he could tell it was important, "if you really need to deal with this alone, that's okay. I'll stay here and..." he made a vague gesture towards the heaps of books on the table.

Sam's eyes widened a little. "Seriously? You're going to do research?"

Dean tried for mock-offended. "Hey, just 'cause I don't usually like to research doesn't mean I can't. I'll have Cas and Jack fill me in on your system here and we'll be all set."

Sam still seemed more than a bit surprised, but he managed a half-smile. "Thanks, Dean. Maybe you'll see something I overlooked." Reaching up to give his brother's hand a squeeze, he then stepped away so he could close-up his laptop and tore the part of the sheet of paper with the coordinates on it off from the rest, folding it up to shove into one of his pockets.

Dean grumbled something under his breath about that last remark as he fished in his own pocket, bringing out the car keys which he tossed to Sam once he'd turned back around. "I don't wanna see a scratch on her, y'hear?"

Again, Sam seemed a bit shocked, but he nodded, giving his brother a tight smile before heading off to his room to get his gear together.

When Sam was out of sight, Dean sagged against the table and shook his head. "Once, just for once couldn't we catch a break?" He wasn't sure who exactly he was asking though, as he was even more sure than ever that Chuck had skipped the universe a while ago. Picking up the glass left on the table, he downed it, welcoming the burn and hoping it would help numb the ache he was feeling for his brother. The kid didn't deserve this. He hadn't deserved to lose a woman that he'd so clearly cared about, and who just as obviously had cared about him. And he definitely didn't deserve to have to be the one to put her to rest. Though, hopefully it wouldn't turn ugly. And maybe... maybe this would give Sam a chance to do what he hadn't been able to before. Maybe now he could say goodbye. Hell, maybe that was what Eileen needed too.

He almost considered taking the bottle of whiskey with him off to his room, but resolutely decided against it, instead leaving it in one of the little corner cabinets next to one of the poofy leather armchairs. He'd been serious when he'd told Sam he'd start looking through this stuff, and making his impending hangover worse wasn't the best way to go about that.

As he wandered back to his room, he scrunched his brows together, realizing he hadn't found out just what exactly Sam's "Eureka moment" had been about.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Back in his room, Sam slid his laptop into his backpack then reached over to the ledge he kept a number of books on, grabbing the one titled "Learning American Sign Language". The pages were well-worn and several slips of paper marked various places in it, but it also had a thin coating of dust on it. It had been some while since he'd picked it up. With a tightness in his throat, he put it in his backpack too. He pretty much always kept a duffel ready with the basics of clothes and whatnot in case he had to head out in a hurry, so it was just a matter of adding a few specific things to it.

Almost ready to go, he paused a moment, his hand hovering over his backpack before finding its way to a smaller pocket on the side. Unzipping it, he gently took out what was inside, sitting down on the bed without really realizing it as his memories drifted back, almost unbidden, to the last time he'd seen her alive.

She'd been crushed over having accidentally killed a human, even a human as douchy as that Renny guy had been. After holding her for a while Sam had gently suggested that she try taking a shower to relax, and that they should all get some sleep. Later that evening, after he'd had his own shower and was reading for a bit he'd heard a low knock at his door. Eileen was there when he'd opened it, the overlarge (on her anyway) flannel he'd lent her the previous day now being worn as a nightshirt. "Sam... I..." her eyes had been downcast, so he'd gently raised her chin with his hand before signing that it was okay. "I just, I don't want to be alone right now."

He'd nodded and pulled her into another hug, softly stroking her still slightly damp hair. They'd slept together that night in the strictly literal sense, Eileen curled up protectively in his arms, and as he'd felt himself slowly drifting off he'd felt that feeling somewhere deep in his chest that he'd always felt when spending time with her, even if it was just face-timing on his phone or computer. It was a feeling that he'd hesitated to define, but right then it was growing, as if it could have filled all of his being. He'd had his share of one-night-stands and random flings, and even though he and Eileen hadn't ever had sex, hadn't even kissed for that matter, he'd known that what he'd felt for her was stronger anything he'd felt for any of those others. He'd known that he would do anything he could for her, known that what he'd wanted most was to protect her. And he'd instinctively known that she was very emotionally vulnerable right then, and pushing her into something physical, something she wasn't really ready for at that point could have truly hurt her.

That thought alone had been enough to keep his libido in check and just appreciate her presence; the feel of her soft warmth pressed against him, the rosemary scent of her shampoo, the slow sounds of her breathing and the way her fingers had slipped under his t-shirt and held onto his side even in sleep. His last thoughts before falling asleep had been wishing there could be more of all that. More of her. More of them. For them to be a "them".

When morning had dawned, her look of gratitude had been enough to reassure him that he'd made the right choice. Though her words telling him of her decision to go back to Ireland had landed like a punch to his gut, but he'd tried to hide his disappointment. She'd seen right through him though, and her expression had grown a little sad. "Not forever. I promise I'll come back. I just... I want a chance to connect with who my parents were, and hiding under the Men-of-Letter's noses might be the safest place for me, since they'll probably be looking for me in the States."

He'd nodded, understanding her reasoning. After a quick breakfast of toast and some eggs that he'd miraculously managed not to burn, he'd helped her carry her things outside to her car, giving her another long hug before she pulled away, but not to leave just yet. She'd spent a few moments looking deeply into his eyes, as if she could fully plumb their depths. "Thank you Sam. For everything." Then she'd surprised him by sliding a hand up to the back of his neck and drawing him down while reaching up on tip-toe, pulling him into a kiss that started out sweet and soft before gaining heat. He'd been a little surprised at first, but definitely not reluctant, and for a few moments that had felt like eternity and yet also entirely too brief, the world around them had seemed to fade away, and all he'd known were her lips and the feel of the two of them pressed as close together as they could have managed to be.

When they'd finally broken off the kiss, she offered him one last, sad smile before wishing him goodbye and to keep himself safe. He'd done the same, waving at her in a bit of a daze as she'd driven off.

Later, when he'd gone back into his room he'd found something she'd clearly left for him on his desk; a lock of her dark brown hair secured with one of those little black hair-ties.

He held it now as he sat there, feeling the softness of it and still catching the faint scent of rosemary. "This is why you visit my dreams sometimes, isn't it?" He murmured softly. "You're tied to that forest, but you're also tied to me through this, and I take it with me whenever I go out on hunts." He found himself having to blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. "Guessing the Bunker's wards keep you away when I'm here though... But I'm coming. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry it took me this long." He couldn't keep his tears from falling this time as his voice broke. "I'll be there soon."

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missnighttigress · 6 years ago

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We Can Do It In Vegas

REPOSTING DUE TO TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES! Characters: Tony Stark, Fem!Tony Stark, Natasha Stark, Toni Stark, Iron Woman, Iron Man, Steve Rogers, Captain America

Pairing: Toni Stark x Steve Rogers (Stony or Stoni)

Word Count: 6,994

Summary: It didn’t take Natasha Stark much to convince Steve Rogers to have a spur-of-the-moment, iron-clad, star-spangled destination wedding in Las Vegas. Weddings are supposed to be sappy and sentimental, but Toni wouldn’t be Toni if she didn’t try to fluster the super soldier until he couldn’t take it anymore. How exactly is that going to go over with her new husband?

Warnings: 18+ Readers only, smut, Dom/sub tones, some cursing so mild language, some fluff, teasing, slight denial if you look hard enough

A/N: This was a fic that was part of @becaamm‘s Valentine’s Day Challenge. I asked for the prompt of “We can do it in Vegas,” and this delectable little piece just flowed right onto the paper. It’s been a while since I wrote something so sultry and downright sexy, and initially I wasn’t that pleased with it until I read it out loud. Please let me know what you think! All comments (and criticisms) are appreciated!

Lithe arms stretched out as Natasha Stark rolled off her super soldier lover. Her chest rose and sank heavily as she struggled to catch her breath, head and body reeling from the salacious activities that had just taken place. Wiggling around on her side of the bed beside Steve Rogers, she could hear the popping of some of her ligaments.

“I think I’m gonna have to hit the gym with you,” she whined, twisting to the side as her back popped. “Either that or start taking multivitamins like an old woman. My body just isn’t what it used to be.”

Steve grunted in acknowledgement.

Milk chocolate eyes peeked through long lashes at his face. Baby blue hues were fixated on the ceiling in deep concentration. She waved a hand in front of his face, and he blinked down to her with a grin. “Hey, doll.

“Hey yourself,” she murmured, snuggling up against his side and tossing an arm over his chest. “What’s got your star spangled Spanx in a bunch?”

His hand came up and weaved his fingers through her own. With minimal effort, he pulled her hand closer into view where he could stare down at the radiantly sparkling jewel donning her left ring finger. “Just can’t wait to make you my wife is all,” he whispered, lips brushing over her knuckles.

Her lips curled into a soft smile before it faded. They had been through hell together. They defended Earth against an alien invasion, stopped the world destruction from her own robot creation and his army, and even went toe-to-toe with each other. When it came to Thanos, they weren’t able to stop him...and she almost died in space. Since being reunited, they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. Even how fast the engagement came was quite a shock.

They determined that they were going to take their time though, maybe put the wedding off for a year or so. Rushing in so soon after the decimation probably wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.

Then again...the wedding wasn’t for everyone else, was it?

Her eyes grew wide as an idea popped into that genius mind of hers. She perked up, drawing Steve’s attention away from the ceiling and onto her. “We can do it in Vegas.”

“What?”

Pure excitement pulsed through her veins as she jolted up out of bed, sitting cross-legged and holding onto her knees. “Steve, it’s perfect! Let’s just get married in Vegas!”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What, like elope? What about the others, and Rhodey, and Pepper, and…”

Her hands raked through her just-screwed auburn locks in frustration. “That’s just it, Steve. Our wedding? That’s for us, to celebrate our union. You can’t wait. I can’t wait. Why should we wait?”

“But-”

“We could get married at the Little Neon Chapel, have Elvis officiate and then drive down Las Vegas Boulevard in a pink Cadillac,” she interjected, ignoring him.

He rolled his eyes, his hand resting on her knee to get her attention. When her eyes locked on his, he offered her a small smirk. “Why spend the money to go all the way out there when we could just as easily get married at the courthouse with a few witnesses?”

She shook her head, eyes falling where his hand rested. “We haven’t ventured very far from this compound since I got back,” she drawled. “We’ve been exhausting all our resources to reverse this thing...and I want to, I do. I still close my eyes and see Parker just disintegrating in my arms.”

There was silence from Captain America, but he squeezed his fiancee’s leg as a gesture of support.

Tears formed in her eyes as she glanced around the room and back at Steve. “Stevie...I have to get away from it for a while. I want our friends there, but I need to get away from all of it, every reminder. I’m afraid...I’m afraid I’ll go out of my everloving mind if I don’t.”

Instantly, his arms ensnared the woman in a bear hug, his hand bracing the back of her head and petting her hair in a comforting gesture. His lips met the corner of her eye as he kissed her tears away. “Okay, doll. Okay,” he cooed, squeezing her even tighter. “We can do it in Vegas.”

It was almost hard to believe that had been just 72 hours prior to the moment Toni was living in. Then again, to her, the last 72 hours flew by like a dream.

In their luxurious hotel room at the Venetian, she gaped in the mirror at the woman who was reflected back at her. Her lengthy light auburn locks were pinned back away from her face, the strands weaved into a elegant low updo held together by pearl and rhinestone bobby pins. One strand hung off to the right side for a little dramatic emphasis, curled just enough to give her hair a soft wave.

Her makeup itself was done mostly naturally. Darker flesh tones painted her eyelids, outlined on the bottom with inky lines of eyeliner. Her long lashes were made even lengthier and more full with waterproof mascara. She already had full lips to begin with as well, but the addition of maroon lipstick made them appear even plumper.

The dress itself was a marvel. She had managed to go to a bridal store and find the perfect ivory silk gown. The straps were thin, but cut over her chest in a v-formation with an extra little curve to accentuate her bosom. A wide ivory sash wrapped around the waist of the gown, separating the bodice from the skirt. The skirt flowed beautifully over her curves. It wasn’t form-fitting or body-conforming in the slightest, but hugged just the right areas before the fabric spilled to the floor and made a tiny pool at her feet. A slit ran right up the left side of the skirt to the middle of Toni’s thigh, adding just the right amount of sultry to the whole outfit. To pull everything together a little more, long silver earrings with diamond leaves down their length and two pearl spheres at the bottom dangled from her ears. Her freshly manicured feet adorned strappy silver heels with rhinestones down the front, toe and leg straps.

As Toni gawked, her stomach started to flip. Within such a small amount of time, she would be on a gondola marrying Steven Grant Rogers, a man out of time. Both of them had defeated the odds against them time and time again to get to where they were. It seemed so much like a fairy tale, a dream. Like if she reached out and touched anything, she’d wake up and still be lost in space, even further from Steve’s arms than she was in that moment.

Just the thought of that possibility made her nearly double over, the flipping in her stomach shifting to more of a churning. Her chest felt hollow and empty, like the air had been sucked from her lungs and the room. Her body trembled and convulsed as she shivered, the warmth having fled her body. Her clammy hands tugged at her own upper arms as she gasped for air.

“Miss Stark?” a voice trilled, a soft hand resting on the small of Toni’s back.

That minute amount of touch was enough to ground Toni a little, to calm the tumultuous storm that had been building inside her. Her head snapped up, her eyes locking on the concerned forest green eyes of a petite red-headed woman, the wedding planner. Taking a deep breath, the billionaire straightened herself out and gave the woman a small smile. “Sorry, Miss Waltham. What can I do for you?”

The woman carefully scanned Toni’s face, and Toni couldn’t help but feel guilty. How many brides with cold feet had she seen before, that ran out and cancelled the wedding completely? She must have been worried that Iron Woman was going to do the same thing. “Is everything okay? You know, it’s perfectly natural to feel nervous. Marriage is, after all, a new adventure! But I can assure you, it’s an exciting one.”

This caused the bride to snort. Because of their status as Earth’s defenders, even getting coffee was an adventure for them. She knew how the woman truly meant it, though: that every day was a new opportunity to discover things together and try new experiences. She could only wish for all of those opportunities with her new husband. When the red-head cleared her throat, Toni broke out of her mini daydream. “Sorry. Yes, I’m fine. It was a case of nerves, just not the nerves you think, I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything...of anyone...in my life.”

The petite physique of the wedding planner wiggled in place before she bounced off, returning just a second later with a bouquet of red and white roses. “In that case, he’s waiting for you, Miss Stark. Are you ready?”

Toni’s fingers curled around the bouquet with a wide grin. “More than you know, Miss Waltham. Let’s get going.”

CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!

Steve’s black dress shoes echoed through the corridor of the Venetian’s gondola station as he paced, waiting for his future wife. He didn’t think this life was possible before. He had always hoped for it, but between the war and the ice, then the whole Avengers thing, it was almost for the best that he didn’t settle down. How could he share such a dangerous life with someone and put them at risk, give them nightmares and anxieties?

That isn’t to say he didn’t date. There was that cute coffee waitress in Brooklyn, a couple women he met at the gym here and there, and of course Sharon. Sharon he could have possibly settled down with, but their dynamic was never quite like what he shared with Toni.

The thought of the billionaire made a warm smile dance over his lips as he continued pacing. He had read her file prior to jumping on the Helicarrier during Loki’s attacks, and initially wrote her off as a spoiled, pompous brat. They were at each other’s throats initially more than once, but then when they figured out how to build a team dynamic? Everything ran almost as smooth as silk.

Almost. There was that little matter of the Sokovia Accords and then the big secret about Bucky. Who could forget the Moscow battle and then all this garbage with Thanos, and how Toni was almost lost to the cosmos? Yeah. Almost as smooth as silk.

“Captain.”

The male voice broke Steve from his thoughts, effectively halting his pacing as he glanced over to the large white and gold gondola. Near the bench reserved for the lovebirds stood a dark-haired man, dressed in a black and white striped shirt with black dress slacks and a red scarf around his neck. He was giving the super soldier a smirk. “Cap, buddy, you’re gonna put a hole through the floorboards if you keep pacin’ like that.”

Baby blue eyes glanced down at the dark oak of the platform, and a chuckle reverberated through his chest. “I’m sorry. Suppose I’m just a little excited to finally be marrying my gal.”

The man gestured to the seat in front of him. “Why don’t you climb aboard? I’m sure she’ll be down any minute.”

Steve did as he was asked, stepping into the gondola carefully before taking a seat on the bench across from the gondolier. He wasn’t even seated 10 seconds before his leg began bouncing, rocking the whole boat.

A bell jingled by the station then, and the gondolier beamed at the captain once more before placing his hand on his shoulder. “And here she is.”

Steve nearly jumped from the bench, and the boat weaved on the water under the sudden shift in weight. He murmured an apology before turning his attention to the end of the dock, where a white and gold door creaked open agonizingly slowly. He expected to see her hiding behind the door, but when it finished opening, all Steve could see was a faux stained glass window and a wine-colored carpet. He huffed in aggravation. If he had to wait any longer to see his wife, he was going to go bonkers. Leave it to Toni to tease him, even at their own wedding.

When she finally came into view, Steve’s heart swelled. She was truly a vision in the simplistic ivory gown she wore, and he couldn’t drink her in enough. The way her hair was pinned back from her face, how just the slightest makeup made her glow, she was absolutely stunning...and about to truly be all his.

The way those pools of blue raked over her figure made Toni blush and glance off to the side before fixating her attention back on the soldier in front of her. He looked like he just stepped out of a post-World War II photo. Over his broad shoulders and proportional torso rested a dark greenish-brown dress Army jacket, complete with pristine brass buttons, buckles and his various military distinctions. His undershirt was just a shade different, his collar buttoned under his chin with a gold tie hugging his neck. His dress slacks were the same greenish-brown as his jacket, pressed with a crease down the center of his legs. His beeline honey hair was coiffed in a very neat, very 1940s style. He looked delicious, and it took all of Toni’s strength as she approached the boat to not jump his bones right there in front of God and everybody. Judging from his stance and the vibes he was giving off, it was safe to say he felt the same about her.

A sly smirk made the corners of her lips curl upward. Oh, she was going to have fun with this.

When she approached the end of the dock, Steve flashed her a toothy grin as he offered her a helping hand. “Good evening, Miss Stark. Lovely night for a wedding.”

Her eyes rolled, her tendrils shaking slightly with her head before she took his hand and stepped into the gondola. “I would agree, Captain Rogers,” she purred out, adding just enough emphasis on his title. It drove him wild when she did that. With how small the blue rings around his pupils were getting, she would say it was having just the right effect. Her smile widened before she adjusted her dress as they both took a seat on the bench in front of the gondolier.

Once they were comfortably seated, they were joined by an older gentleman holding a tome, and a mousy brunette with a camera. Once everyone was seated and comfortable, the gondolier untied the boat from the dock, pushing off to float through the Venetian’s stunning canals.

After a moment, the older gentleman cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before he opened the book in his hands. “Miss Stark, Captain Rogers, it is my honor to be with you today as you-”

Toni readjusted her dress so it showed enough skin on her leg for Steve to take notice. When she took a peek from under her lashes at him, she could tell she succeeded.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the shell of the ear of the woman beside him. “Doll, what’re you doing to me?”

A playful smirk danced over the genius’ painted lips before she feigned innocence, flashbulb going off in her face from the photographer. “I assure you, Captain,” she cooed against his ear, blowing against his lobe for added effect. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

He grinned before nipping at her ear gently. “Sure, sure. That’s why you bought the dress with the slit in it and prolonged your appearance at the dock. That’s fine, sweetheart. Keep toying with me. See where that gets you.”

She whined softly, just audible enough to hear between the two of them before she whispered back, “Hopefully pinned against a window as you make me see stars...and I'm not talking about the ones in the sky.”

“Oh, good! You two are facing each other. Let us get to the vows, hmm?”

Steve smirked before pulling both of Toni’s delicate hands in his, his eyes meeting hers. The connection between them was always strong before, but this time it was different. There was a stronger magnetic pull. She could’ve sworn he was looking right past her and deep into her soul.

“Captain Rogers, repeat after me, will you?”

The genius tuned out the words as the officiant said them, but paid perfect attention to the captain in front of her.

“I, Captain Steven Rogers, take thee, Natasha Stark, to be my lawfully wedded wife...to have and to hold, from this day forward...for better, for worse...for richer, for poorer...in sickness and in health...to love and to cherish...till death do us part. I pledge myself to you."

Tears pricked the edge of the woman’s eyes, but she didn’t allow them to fall, even with waterproof makeup on. Instead, she wiggled in her seat to adjust herself before reciting her part of the vows.

“I, Natasha Stark, take thee, Captain Steven Rogers, to be my lawfully wedded husband...to have and to hold, from this day forward...for better, for worse...for richer, for poorer...in sickness and in health...to love and to cherish...till death do us part. I pledge myself to you."

The older gentleman grinned at the two before reaching for a small velvet silver pouch in his pocket. He jammed his finger through the drawstring opening and pried it open before extending his arm to the couple. “The rings.”

Steve let Toni reach in first and dig around for his wedding ring, a modest gold band. She held it in her grasp as he pulled out her ring, a thinner gold band with alternating diamonds and rubies on it. The smile never left his face as he slipped the wedding ring over her left ring finger, resting it on top of the engagement ring.

“Natasha, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love.”

Her thumb brushed over the cool metal of the band as she played with it. Her chest felt full, and not of shrapnel this time. Instead, it was full of love, so much so that it was spilling over through her eyes in the form of tears. She took a small gulp of air before she responded, “I will wear it gladly. Whenever I look at it, I will remember this momentous day and the vows we have made.”

The super soldier’s left hand cupped her cheek, a thumb brushing away the water streaking down before she took his hand and slipped the gold band down his left ring finger as well.

“Steven,” she whispered, taking another ragged breath before she continued, “I have for you this golden ring, a most precious metal that symbolizes your love and how it’s the most precious element in my life. The ring is a loop, with no beginning and no end, symbolizing that our love will never cease. I place it on your finger as a visible sign of the vows that have made us husband and wife.”

Her new husband jolted forward eagerly, ready to seal the deal with his bride before the officiant cleared his throat again as a warning. There was still one more part of the ceremony to be completed before they could get to the grand finale.

The officiant straightened his posture before his chest heaved in a big sigh and he closed his book. “Captain Rogers...Miss Stark...by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

There was a mass amount of cheering ringing through their ears, and suddenly Toni and Steve weren’t in their own world anymore. They both glanced up as the gondola passed under a pedestrian bridge where several people had been watching their ceremony. The flash from the camera simulated a strobe light as the photographer took what felt like 200 photos a minute. Had they really tuned everyone out except each other and the officiant this whole time?

“Now, Captain, you may kiss the bride,” the officiant teased with a wink.

Steve wasted no time at all, his strong hand wrapping around Toni’s waist and tugging her so her torso was practically in his lap. She squeaked before barking out a laugh.

“C’mere, Mrs. Stark-Rogers,” he growled out. His lips crushed against hers almost bruisingly, like he was a man starved for her. With how long he waited for this, for her, he might as well have been.

Toni melted into the kiss, turning into liquid in his arms as she pressed her lips against his in return. His tongue swiped against her lower lip, seeking entrance which she granted. The kiss lasted only a moment more (because Toni was truly worried she was going to snap at the older officiant if he cleared his throat one more time). When the two broke apart, even as they caught their breath, they couldn’t help but grin wildly at one another.

It was only a short time later when the gondola came full circle and docked at the station. The newlyweds were both yearning to get on with the wedding night festivities, but were whisked away by the photographer and wedding planner for photos. After an hour and a half of posing at various property locations followed by a half hour of additional paperwork to wrap everything up, the happy couple were finally dismissed to begin their new life together, to which they both immediately rushed to the hotel tower elevator.

“No party, no dancing, no having to mingle with a million and two guests, and we managed to stay under a $20,000 budget, Captain,” Toni teased, her feet slipping in and out of her shoes anxiously. “That’s the best wedding ever, if you ask me.”

He snorted, eyes fixated on the digital number of the hotel elevator as it kept climbing. “What made it the best wedding ever was that you were there, Mrs. Stark-Rogers.”

Her new name made a chill run up and down her spine, causing her to shiver pleasurably. “Oooh,” she purred, leaning her head against the back of the elevator car. “Is this what it’s like when I call you by your title?”

He couldn’t help but chortle at his lover as he bent down to give her a sweet peck on the cheek, leaving him in perfect position to whisper, “If this damn elevator would hurry the hell up, I plan on showing you exactly what it’s like.”

She twisted her head and captured her husband’s lips eagerly, her teeth nipping on his lower lip and eliciting a groan from the super soldier. His arms curled around her frame as he deepened their embrace, the numbers just ticking by on the ride up to their floor.

They almost didn’t hear the bell ding to signal that the car had finally arrived on their floor. Toni broke away from the kiss first, and was about to wiggle free from Steve’s grasp when a small animalistic growl ripped from his throat, his right arm hooking under her legs and hoisting her up bridal style as he carried her through the corridor.

“Y’know this is reserved for the actual threshold, right?” she amusedly scolded.

“Y’know...I don’t care,” he retorted, an ear-to-ear grin on his face as he strode towards their room. “I don’t care what threshold it’s supposed to technically be. I’ll do this over every one if I have to just to show everyone that you are my wife. Mine.”

They reached their room door a moment later, and she yanked the keycard from one of Steve’s lapel pockets. She slid it in the lock, waiting for a green light and click of the deadbolt before twisting the knob, aiding the super soldier out since his hands were otherwise occupied. He nudged the door open with his foot and took two enormous steps in, effectively crossing that threshold. He set his bride down momentarily to lock the door.

They both stepped further into their luxury suite from the foyer, and were taken aback in surprise. In the bedroom portion of the room, the spacious queen bed was freshly made, red rose petals littering the white cotton bedspread and pillows. On top of the rich mahogany dresser across from the foot of the bed sat two crystal champagne flutes with a large aluminum bucket in between, the pail filled with ice and a bottle of champagne nestled inside. The elegant beige curtains in the step-down living area were tied back with a thick red rope. A white sheer curtain draped over the window was the only thing protecting the room from getting more light glare from the bustling Las Vegas Strip below.

“Guess they needed that extra time from the photos to go ahead and do all this,” Iron Woman murmured, taking in the work of the wedding planner and the guest room attendants. She was still admiring their handiwork when she felt soft lips brush over the sensitive area where her collarbone and neck connected, causing her to tilt her head to the side and grant Steve easier access.

“Probably. That...and it was all just one big tease. It was torture, having to wait so long to get you back here to ravish you,” he gruffed, voice low and husky as his hands skimmed up the curvy sides of his bride before they danced back down again, both hands resting firmly against her rear and giving that area a squeeze. “Doll...I think you’re wearing way too many layers for my liking.”

A trill of a giggle left her throat as she shifted out of her heels and kicked them to the side. Craning her neck, she made eye contact with him from her peripheral. “Then do something about it, Captain.”

The guttural snarl that emanated from him as he nipped at her shoulder caused heat to shoot down and pool in her stomach. His calloused fingers fumbled at the top of her dress, trying to feel if she had a hidden clasp or anything he had to be concerned with. When he realized it was just a zipper, his lips skirted over the center of her shoulder blades. He tugged on the tiny metal piece, the teeth eliciting a perfect noise as they split apart, exposing more of her to him. As more skin revealed itself, he peppered it with a trail of kisses leading to the base of the zipper, resting right at the small of her back. He shoved the silk of the gown aside on the right just enough to be able to nibble her hip.

“Recite our words for me, love.”

She sighed as he kissed a trail back up her spine. “If we say ‘lime’, then everything’s good.”

A kiss to her left shoulder.

“‘Lemon’ means we take things slow.”

One to her right.

“And ‘cranberry’ means we need to stop.”

His fingers hooked under either strap of her dress as his lips skirted over the junction of her neck and collarbone again, taking the skin between his teeth and suckling gently. “And where are we at now?”

The gesture caused Iron Woman to pant slightly, arousal pooling further near her core. “Lime, lime, lime, Steve. Dear God, it’s lime,” she hissed, flustered at his agonizingly gradual pace.

A soft chuckle, and with a flick of his wrists the bodice of her dress fell around her waist, exposing her torso to the cool air in the hotel suite. Her fingers propelled it over her hips quickly, allowing all the silk to pool on the floor at her feet. She was bared completely to him, save for her white lace bra and matching cheeky panties. Her fingers reached back and found the clasp of the bra, yanking the hooks free and letting the garment fall to the floor. Rotating on her heel, she smirked at her husband playfully, head tilted in an innocent gesture.

“What is it?” he inquired, eyes focused on the bounce of her chest and the perkiness of her nipples in the brisk air.

“Well, Captain,” she breathed, her hands fiddling with his jacket collar as she leaned forward, her chest pressing against him suggestively, “It seems now that you’re the one wearing too many layers.”

His irises were practically non-existent, pupils blown wide with lust. They were fixated on her, affectionate yet stern, a look Toni knew all too well. “Then you should take care of the issue.”

It wasn’t a playful suggestion. It was a command.

Immediately, she went to work. Her digits curled around the fabric tucked in the buckle of his belt, tugging at the material and sliding it through the brass buckle until the entire belt fell away from him. She batted her eyes up at him before toying with the bottom button of the jacket, causing it to break away from the hole. Every move was deliberately measured, formulated to get him more hot and bothered than he already was. She could tell that much from his gaze and the growing bulge in his slacks, which she would brush against nonchalantly every so often.

He rolled his head side to side in aggravation. “Fucking hell, doll. What’re you doing to me?”

“Language, Cap,” she chided as she worked on the next button up. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“You and I both wrote the book on waiting, Toni.”

“And look what came of it,” she countered, flashing her left hand at him before starting on the next button. “Patience is a virtue, and you, my dear...sweet...loving husband, are supposed to be the very definition of the word.”

His chest shook once with a sarcastic snort. “I won’t be very virtuous with you tonight, I guarantee it.”

The connotation in his warning only added fuel to her internal fire. She finished the last button on the jacket and pushed the offensive layer over his shoulders, folding it neatly in her arms before tossing it gently onto a nearby chair. When she focused back on the captain, he already had his tie loosened, and the first button undone of his undershirt. “Feeling a little pent up, are we?”

He swooped down and captured her lips with his own hungrily, fidgeting with some of his buttons while she worked on the others. “I...want...to...claim...my...wife,” he uttered out between fervent lip locks. “You’ve been...a little minx...long enough.” He yanked the golden tie over his head as she jerked away the fabric of the undershirt, his rippling muscles exposed to the air. Her fingers tugged at the waistline of his dress slacks as she aimed to give his expanding tent some relief. He caught her wrist, the satin of the tie still in his grasp dusting over her.

“Turn.”

She didn’t hesitate in obeying, pivoting on her heel until her back was to him. Her hands clasped behind her expectantly, but he surprised her when the fabric settled over her eyes instead. Her vision blackened, she could only feel Steve’s arm extend in front of her.

“How many fingers do you see?”

It was a bit of a trick question. The correct answer was “none,” because he should have her blinded properly. If she answered anything else, he would spank her. Well, since she had been a temptress all day…

“Three.”

She could hear the aggravated exhale of her husband as he retracted his limb. There was a minuscule rush of air that fanned her ass before the crack of skin-on-skin contact echoed through the room and her ears. She yelped softly as pain radiated through her right cheek. When she was about to reach back to alleviate the pain, the captain fired two more swats in quick succession, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

“You wanna try that again, doll?”

Her fingers went to reach back again, but he flicked her hand away with his own. She wouldn’t be getting any comfort without giving him an answer, and she was nothing if not consistent. “I saw three,” she reiterated.

Another irritated huff before he smacked her thrice more in the same place. Her pearly whites sunk into her lower lip as she whimpered.

“You know I can do this all damn night, Natasha.”

Oh, her full first name. She must have really ruffled his feathers. Deciding to give a little bit in their game, she whispered, “Nothing. I saw nothing, and I still see nothing.”

“So you lied to me?”

Oh, fuck.

SLAP!

“Fuuuuuck, Steve!” she hissed, craning her head toward the man behind her. “Seriously?!”

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and applied a bit of pressure, signaling for her to face him completely. His hand cupped her chin, keeping her face in place as he closed the distance between them. “You’re damn right, ‘seriously.’ I told you I was anxious to marry you, hungry to make you my wife and claim you as truly mine. I thought you were anxious too, but you’ve done nothing but torment me all day.”

She chuckled and rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “What can I say? It’s one of the reasons why you fell in love with me.” Hopeful that she was being charming enough to get her out of any trouble, she arched on her tiptoes and pursed her lips, waiting for him to close the inch of space between them with a smooch.

She could feel his face moving closer. He was just about to close the gap completely when he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, his nose brushing against hers affectionately. “Huh uh,” he taunted, “Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punishments. Get on the bed and scoot up until you get to the headboard and hold onto it.”

A rush of air flirted with her ass again. He was ready to swat at her. Instinctively, she flinched. He instead clapped a hand on the tender area, moving to the left and right in a rough rubbing motion.

“Don’t you dare even think about making me wait long, either.”

With the weight of his warning, she didn’t want to. She knew what happened when she pushed Steve’s buttons just enough, and that gravel in his voice told her he was right on that cusp. Plus, she was actually aching to see what he had in store for her. That ache is what propelled her to clamber onto the plush mattress and fumble her way to the headboard. Her hands found the metal bar instantly, digits curling around the cool brass as she flipped herself to sit reclined against the pillows, facing him. From across the room where their luggage was, she could hear the zip of one of their suitcases. She only hoped it was the suitcase she was thinking of, the thought of its contents making her body tremble in anticipation.

There was a sudden warmth on her left side, and she knew her lover had returned. The weight of the bed shifted as he braced a knee against the mattress, hovering over her. Something coarse wound around the skin of her wrists, and instantly she knew it was one of the rope coils she packed.He was meticulous, wrapping the coil around either wrist and crossing it at the middle before wrapping the coil around the bronze bar of the headboard. He repeated the process three times before knotting the cord. There was a slight tug at the knot, and then his fingers slipped under the rope between it and her wrists, making sure it was loose enough for her to wiggle or twist without worry of burns or cuts. Her joints rolled in demonstration to him, showing that she was restrained securely yet safely. A brush of his thumb over her knuckles was a loving gesture and a silent thank you for the confirmation.

There was an emptiness then beside her then, and she realized he must have retreated from the mattress. Two soft metallic thunks echoed through her ears, the bed shifting from something tugging on the frame. He was securing different coils at the foot of the bed. Her suspicions were confirmed when his hand plucked her left ankle and spread her leg as far as would be comfortable for her, the rope winding around the area soon after. He repeated the process with her right leg before slipping his fingers between her and the rope once more. She again rolled her joints. Instead of his fingers giving her loving acknowledgement, however, his lips found purchase with the top of her right foot, then her left.

She sighed contently and arched in the air as he kissed trails up either side of her legs. A kiss to the shin...right below the knee...to the inside of her knees...above the knee on her thigh. Her chest rose with a sharp intake of air as he made his way up towards that sweet spot she yearned for him to touch, the fire insider her raging hotter than ever. “Steve…”

Against the inside of her thigh, she could feel a sly smirk pull at his lips. Without acknowledging her, his tongue slipped past his lips and lapped affectionately against the sensitive flesh of her thigh, leaving a minor stripe in its wake. He pulled back just enough to purse his lips and blow against the wet area, causing an intense tingling sensation to shoot straight to her core. Her body jerked a bit in response.

“Oh, fuck, Stevie,” she keened, hips pushing off on the mattress. She could only hope she was thrusting closer towards his mouth.

His palms braced against her hips and jostled softly, keeping her in place as he nipped at the area he had just licked in warning. “That’s Captain to you, Mrs. Stark-Rogers.”

A fervent nod of her head was her answer as she wiggled under his grasp. He applied the same ministrations to the inside of her other thigh, this time dangerously close to her center. She could feel the heat of his head right there, so tantalizingly close yet so dreadfully far in the same distance.

“Captain, Captain, Captain, Captain…”

The title was a mantra off her lips. She could feel her arousal pooling between her legs, and she bent her limbs just the smallest amount to edge him closer toward the grand prize.

Her attempts didn’t go unnoticed as his fingers dipped from her hips down through the valley of her pelvic frame conjoining her torso with her legs, tickling her and brushing just the very edge of her core. The movements caused her to mewl desperately, hips thrusting up once more.

The super soldier let out a seductive chuckle as he rested his head on her thigh. His breath washed over her sex, causing her to huff and writhe against her bonds.

“Oh, my darling, beautiful wife,” he cooed. “I told you...only good girls get rewards. Besides, aren’t you the one who said that good things come to those who wait?”

Behind the silk of the tie, her eyes widened at his implication. She had to maintain her poker face, though, so she offered him a cool smile. “Oh please, Captain. You told me you couldn’t wait to get me back here. Do you honestly expect me to believe you’re doing all this just to leave me hanging?”

He hummed in response. “I’m not going to completely leave you hanging.”

Her head cocked to the side, and she felt the mattress shift under his weight again as he moved to grab something he must have put off to the side. When he returned, his calloused fingers ran over the top of her pelvis, thumb hooking into the top right edge of her thong. He pulled the fabric aside, and she shivered as the breezy air feathered over her slickness. He didn’t give her long to adjust before a conical silicone item pressed against her glistening center. With a little extra push and help from how soaked she was, the toy slid into her easily, filling her just enough. Part of the toy curled against the bundle of nerves just above that area, rubbing against it in the most delicious way. She couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, shifting to adjust herself.

A small click from the foot of the bed, and a low, pulsating vibration shook the toy. The billionaire tossed her head back, keening in pleasure. The bed shifted again before Steve’s presence was on her left side again, hand caressing her cheek.

“I’m not going to completely leave you hanging,” he repeated. “No. Instead, I’m going to drive you to the brink and back...again...and again...and again. You won’t get to cum unless I give you permission. Meanwhile...I believe the Patriots just started their first quarter. I think I’m going to catch a little football while you think about what you did to me today.”

She huffed in aggravation, body twisting as the toy vibrated against her insides and her clit.

The captain swooped down and locked her lips with his own, their teeth and tongues clashing in a lust-laden kiss. “Maybe if you’re a good girl for me and serve out your punishment until halftime, you might just get a reward,” he offered.

“F-First quarter…?! Halftime...ugh, Captain!” she whimpered. “What are you doing to me?”

“Doing my beautiful bride in Vegas,” he snickered. “That is what you wanted, after all.”

50 notes · View notes