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    Default Avengers Inserts: Fan Mail

    Chapter 1: The Email


    You glanced at the lengthy letter you penned to Captain America. You weren't sure what really compelled you to look up the mailing address for fan mail, or to waste half a notebook's worth of paper to get to your final draft. Before you could change your mind, you folded it neatly, placed it in the already addressed envelope and sealed it.

    You doubted your words would ever reach Captain America directly, which is part of why you included your email address. You said that since no one would probably actually read this, that you'd love to meet Captain America over coffee or take a walk in Central Park, out of uniform of course.

    You actually wanted to do more than that. What woman wouldn't melt over that smile, that body, the whole saving the world on at least a biweekly basis thing?

    You didn't want to make some poor guy need brain bleach whose job was to send out "autographed" picture responses to fan mail, though, so you kept it G-rated.

    A few weeks passed, and you kept busy as usual. You'd nearly forgotten about the letter you mailed to Captain America, but an email with the subject "Thank you for your kind words" from sender Steve Rogers caught your eye. You opened it.


    Thank you for your kind words, ma'am. I do read and reply to all of my fan mail. I would like to meet you for coffee and a walk in Central Park, if you're still interested. Let me know.

    Regards,
    Steve Rogers


    You weren't sure at first if it was for real. Maybe someone intercepted the letter and was messing with you. The worst that could happen is getting stood up, though, and it's not like that hadn't happened before. You bit your lower lip absentmindedly at the best that could happen. That was about as likely as pigs sprouting wings and flying around downtown New York, though.

    You thought you might break the backspace key on your keyboard while you tried to type up your reply.


    Dear Steve,

    I'd still love to meet you for coffee and a walk in Central Park. Your schedule is probably busier than mine so you can pick the time and date. My phone number is (555) 555-5555 if you want to give me call and set something up.

    I look forward to hearing from you again.


    You glanced at the time. It had been almost an hour, and you probably should have left 15 minutes ago. Before you made yourself late(r), you hit the Send button.



    Chapter 2: The Call


    You wouldn't admit it to yourself, but you were practically tethered to your phone and inbox, waiting for a response of some sort. Your phone followed you everywhere, even the shower where it perched precariously on the ledge. You were lucky it didn't get waterlogged.

    Not that you were sure of what you'd do if he called while you were in the shower. Talking to Captain America, or rather Steve, while naked would be awkward and somehow unpatriotic -- like defiling an apple pie. You idly wondered if he actually tasted like apple pie, Bomb Pops, the Fourth of July and all things patriotic.

    Your tether on your phone loosened some after 48 hours, and you didn't check your inbox every 5 minutes.

    You noticed the disappointment on your face when you glanced in the mirror. You frowned. You'd let yourself get too wrapped up in this possible date.

    It was Friday evening, though. You had a relaxing weekend of doing absolutely nothing planned. You tried not to remind yourself you had kept it free in case Steve called and wanted to see you then.

    You were curled up on your couch with a bowl of snacks and a fruity drink, half paying attention to a movie you channel surfed to. You'd already missed half of it, and it wasn't really that interesting to begin with. Probably because most people were out on Friday night actually having a good time and not watching TV alone.

    Your phone started vibrating, then ringing. You snatched it up off of the coffee table. The caller ID revealed an unfamiliar number. Your heart rate increased. Could it be him?

    "Hello?" you answered, hopeful.

    "Hello, it's Steve. Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, but things have been busy around here."

    "It's not a problem. I've been busy, too." You really hadn't been that busy, but it sounded better than the truth.

    "Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?"

    "No, I'm free then." You tried to hide your excitement and the grin plastered on your face, but weren't sure you'd been entirely successful.

    "It's not coffee, but there's a place called the Shake Shack near Central Park. They have milkshakes and burgers."

    "That sounds good." You probably would said anything sounded good, even a root canal. "What time did you have in mind?"

    "How does 11:30 sound?"

    "I'll be there." You tried not to hyperventilate over the thought that you had actual concrete plans to go on a date with Captain fucking America.

    "Are you all right?" He chuckled.

    "Yeah, I'm fine. So I'll see you tomorrow then?" You needed to get off the phone before he thought you were crazy and changed his mind.

    "Tomorrow."

    You hung up after a quick goodbye and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

    There were a dozen people you wanted to call and tell, but you decided against it. It was a delightful secret. And if it went badly, you wouldn't have to recount that tale to anyone and be reminded in the future of that time you blew the date with Captain America. Knowing your friends, the reminders would be entirely too frequent.

    Now that you had a time and place, you needed to pick out something to wear. You walked to your closet and went through everything hanging in it. Nothing screamed 'you should wear me on a casual date with a national icon!'

    You eventually settled on a cute sundress that wasn't too revealing. You'd worn it only once before, for another outdoor date. That one ended badly. You hoped it wasn't the Dress of Dating Doom. It would get another shot before you passed judgment on it.

    You laid out the dress, some strappy sandals and a sexy silk and lace panties and bra set for the next day. Not that you really thought anyone else would be seeing the bra and panties. Best to be prepared, though.

    You set your alarm and got ready for bed, ignoring the fantasies creeping into your mind. Having an orgasm or two to take the edge off of your already building arousal was appealing. You were going to have to seriously suppress your urge to just jump him. No matter how you imagined it, you couldn't picture him being very receptive to that.

    You tossed and turned for a few hours while your mind wandered and your nerves got the best of you. You finally drifted off into a restless slumber in the wee hours of the morning. The sound of the alarm was both too close and too far away.



    Chapter 3: Impatience

    Your alarm went off. You grumbled for a moment, thinking it was another weekday and reached out to hit the snooze. Then, it dawned on you why your alarm was going off on a Saturday morning. This was definitely worth waking up before noon.

    You had some fuzzy, disjointed memories of a dream about being a damsel in distress who was rescued by Captain America. He carried you to safety and kissed you while you were still in his strong arms. The scenario wasn't as appealing in the waking world as it had been in the dream.

    For as little sleep as you had gotten, you were very awake, in a sweet adrenaline rush. In case there was an imminent crash, you put on a pot of coffee.

    While the coffee was brewing, you hopped in the shower.

    Your mind wandered to what it would be like to share that shower with Steve. While you imagined his touch, your fingers traveled down your body, pausing at your already hardened nipples and trailing down to between your legs. You brushed a fingertip lightly over your clit. A soft moan escaped your lips. You could feel a distinct slippery wetness that had absolutely nothing to do with the warm water spraying down on you.

    For the second time in less than 12 hours, as much as you'd like to further indulge in your fantasies, you had a date to get ready for. You washed your hair, scrubbed your body and shaved your underarms and legs. After briefly pondering it, you decided to leave your neatly trimmed bush intact, if for no reason other than the itching when it grows back in.

    After toweling off, you made quick work of blow drying and styling your hair. Nothing too fancy was necessary for lunch and a walk in the park. You brushed your teeth and put on makeup. Finally, you slipped into your clothes and sandals.

    In front of the full length mirror, you turned in a complete circle. You decided that you looked good -- sexy, but in a completely classy way.

    As an afterthought, you put on a bit of your favorite perfume. You didn't wear it often, but this was a special, possibly once in a lifetime occasion.

    The scent of coffee had drifted into your bedroom. You followed it into the kitchen and poured yourself a mug, inhaling the pleasant aroma.

    After you finished your coffee, you checked the time. 10:15. You paced around your apartment, making sure you hadn't forgotten anything. The passage of time was torture.

    You decided to toss a few condoms into your purse. You'd be forever kicking yourself if you missed out on the unlikely opportunity to get into Captain America's pants because you didn't have protection.

    After your dozenth complete circuit around the apartment, you decided that you might as well leave and get there early. Something unforeseen could happen to hold you up, and you didn't want to leave him there waiting.

    For the sake of not being late because of trying to find a place to park in the insanity that is downtown New York, you decided to take a taxi. You grabbed your little black purse and headed out the door.

    The weather was nice -- warm, mostly sunny, a slight breeze. Perfect for an outdoor date.

    It wasn't too hard to find a taxi, and you were soon on your way. You stared at the sights of the city out of the window. That never got old.

    The taxi stopped by a familiar intersection. You quickly paid your fare and stepped out in front of the burger place you'd never taken notice of before. Families and couples were sitting at tables, eating and chatting away. You found an empty table and sat down.

    It was 10:50.

    Time passed slowly while you played on your phone. No new texts. Nothing new on any of the websites you frequented. None of the games you had installed sounded appealing. The world, for once, had decided to be boring.

    This was worse than waiting for school to get out on the last day before summer break. Much worse.


    Chapter 4: Introductions


    "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you waiting for someone?" a smooth voice asked from behind you, pulling you from your thoughts back into reality.

    You took a deep breath, turned around and glanced up at the owner of the voice. It was definitely Steve. He was taller than you expected, wearing a blue plaid shirt and khakis and carrying a leather satchel. If it was possible, he was even more handsome in person than on the news and in pictures you'd seen online.

    You quickly got to your feet, trying not to trip over yourself in the process. You half succeed. He chuckled as you smoothed your dress and acted like nothing happened.

    "I am waiting for someone. Steve?" You didn't really need to ask, but you did anyway. In case there were some Captain America clones running around NYC. Stranger things had happened.

    "Yes." He extended his hand to shake yours. It seemed odd to you to be shaking a date's hand, but hey, you could at least say you touched him without lying. The handshake was too short for your liking. You ignored the tingling from your palm down to your fingertips.

    "It's a pleasure to meet you." You smiled and looked into his eyes. They were a pretty shade of blue, warm and engaging.

    "Have you been here before?" he asked as you both walked toward the window to order.

    "No, I haven't. Do you come here often?"

    "I usually come here when I visit Central Park, which isn't as often as I'd like."

    You both ordered a burger and a milkshake. You got out your wallet without thinking about it.

    "No, I'll get it," he insisted.

    "You don't have to." You decided it was best to not argue with him, and it was nice to meet an actual gentleman who wouldn't let a woman pay for her own meal when she offered to without having ulterior motives. Not that you'd mind him having ulterior motives, but you seriously doubted that was the case.

    "Thank you," you said as you both headed over to the table you'd been sitting at.

    "Are you from around here?" he asked, taking a sip of his vanilla milkshake.

    "Not originally. I moved here a while back. I always wanted to live here growing up, and when I had the chance, I moved. One of the best things I've ever done."

    "I grew up in Brooklyn, but it's changed a lot."

    "I can imagine." You weren't sure what to say as you started to eat your burger -- you would have loved to hear stories about his youth, but it seemed like something that might upset him. You'd read about his history online. It was kind of weird knowing more than you should about someone you just met.

    "How is it?" he asked between bites.

    "Really good. I'll have to come back here." You fished for conversation topics in your mind while trying not to stare at him. It was still kind of hard to grasp that you were actually having lunch with him and that this wasn't some dream that you were going to wake up from in 5 minutes. A point of curiosity popped into your head. "Do you get a lot of fan mail?"

    "Not as much as you'd probably expect. It's mostly from kids." He smiled. "I have gotten some letters from other women, though."

    "Have you met any of them?" You hoped you weren't being too nosy.

    He nodded. "It's nice to get out and meet new people out of uniform. I didn't really have the chance to go out on dates before." A forlorn look crossed his face for a moment before he continued. "Do you write a lot of fan mail?"

    "That's the first fan mail I've written since I was a kid," you admitted. "I'm not even sure what compelled me to do it in the first place. I was expecting maybe an autographed picture or a mass produced letter back."

    "I wouldn't do that. If someone takes the time to write me a letter, I should take the time to read it and reply to it."

    "That's very thoughtful of you. Most people would probably let the fame go to their heads and forget about their fans, but I suppose you aren't most people."

    You took the last bite of your burger and crumpled up the wrapper. He had already finished his.

    "You have something on your mouth." He reached forward and wiped it away with his thumb. "There."

    You felt a light blush crossing your cheeks. "Thanks."

    Both of you wordlessly gathered up your trash and put it in the nearest trash can.

    A cool breeze blew through. You wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing up at the sky. Gray clouds loomed.

    "Looks like rain." He frowned.

    "So much for a walk in the park." You sighed. "Would you like to see a movie or something then?" You hoped he didn't want to cut the date short.

    "Is there anything you want to see?"

    "Not in the theaters right now really." An idea crossed your mind that wasn't completely innocent. You wanted to get down on your knees and thank the weather gods. "There's a couple movies I have on my DVR, though, that I'd really like to see. I've also got Netflix if they don't sound good to you. If you wanted to come back to my place."

    "Sounds like fun." He smiled, and you melted a little bit. "Do you want me to follow you back?"

    "I actually took a taxi. I didn't even want to try parking around here on a Saturday afternoon."

    He laughed. "I hope you don't mind motorcycles."


    Chapter 5: Movies


    You decided that motorcycles were created solely as a form of torture approximately 2 minutes into the ride back to your apartment.

    The vibration of the engine through the thin material of the dress and your barely there panties was torture on its own, without even considering that you were holding on to one of the sexiest men you'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

    You could feel his well-defined muscles underneath his shirt. It took every last bit of will power you had not to start exploring them through the fabric when you leaned forward to tell him where to turn. Traffic was at least kind to you for once, and you arrived before you suffered a completely inappropriate orgasm.

    He trailed behind you as you climbed the stairs, stopping at your apartment door. While you fumbled through your little black purse to find your keys, the condoms fell onto the floor.

    "Shit," you mumbled, scooping them up as quickly as humanly possible and shoving them down into the recesses of your purse. You hoped he hadn't seen them and gotten the (kind of) wrong idea. He was obviously a gentleman after all. You found your keys and shakily shoved the right key into the lock and opened the door.

    He was quiet as he looked around. "Nice place," he eventually commented.

    "Thanks. So, the TV's over there." You ushered him in the general direction of the couch and entertainment center. "Would you like something to drink? I've got Coke, beer, some wine coolers or I could put on some coffee if you want that or-"

    He laughed. "Coke is fine."

    You grabbed two cans of Coke out of the fridge and followed him over to the couch. You put the cans down on coaster on the coffee table.

    He was already seated on one side of the couch. You glanced down and sat about an arm's length away from him, still not quite over the mishap outside the apartment door. You really hoped he hadn't noticed and tried to assure yourself that maybe he didn't even know what a condom wrapper looked like. They had condoms during WWII, but maybe they were packaged differently. You convinced yourself that they were and took a calming breath.

    You snatched up the remote and turned on the TV.

    It was on Cinemax, which you'd been watching last night before you went to bed. Moaning filled the room, and then a sex scene about as explicit as softcore porn covered the screen. A blonde woman with obviously fake breasts was riding a guy who looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch model. You pressed the button to turn on Netflix rapidly. It didn't turn on fast enough for your liking.

    You tried to hide your embarrassment and failed miserably.

    At this point, you were glad you didn't tell anyone about your date. It would probably have become that time you made Captain America think you were a pervert.

    "Look, um, I know the past 15 minutes might indicate otherwise, but I'm not, I mean I know you're a gentleman, and I wasn't trying to-"

    He started laughing. "I might have been shocked a year ago, but after a year with Tony Stark, nothing shocks me anymore."

    "Is he really as bad as his reputation?" You'd seen him on entirely too many tabloid covers for his supposed exploits.

    "Probably worse." He grinned.

    You were still blushing lightly, and he stroked a hand over your warm cheek.

    "You know you can leave if you want. I won't be upset." You felt like you needed to give him an out in case he was staying to be polite. He seemed like he would stay to be polite. You probably would be upset if he took it, but only at yourself. You didn't make eye contact with him.

    He was quiet for a moment before fishing into his pocket. He pulled out a condom.


  2. #2
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    "Is that a Magnum?" You looked at the rather distinct shiny gold wrapper.

    "What?" he asked.

    You took the condom. "This."

    "Uh, well..." He blushed.

    You laughed. "I just haven't met any guy before who genuinely needed one. Not that I think you have an inflated ego about your penis size or anything. You seem very...modest," you rambled. "I guess I'm kind of surprised. You seem so, well, wholesome, like you'd never even consider sex outside of marriage."

    "Ideally, there's marriage and a white picket fence, but life isn't generally ideal. I'm not looking for commitment because I can't commit myself fully to anyone. Being Captain America comes first, and it's not right to expect someone to come second. I thought about it for a long time, but I couldn't find any really good reason to deny myself intimacy as long as I'm safe about it. Are you looking for something serious?"

    "Me? No. I don't want anything more serious than a regular basis friend with benefits. All the good parts without any of the drama." You'd seen enough nasty breakups and divorces to grow disenchanted with the idea. "Not that there's anything wrong with relationships. Some people make it work." You shrugged.

    He paused thoughtfully. "Did you really have a movie you wanted to watch?"

    "Nothing that I want to watch desperately," you admitted. "If there's something you'd like to watch, though..." You handed him the remote.

    He immediately discarded it on the arm of the couch next to him, ignoring the TV entirely. He turned to look at you. Unless you were mistaken, there were obvious undertones of lust in his gaze.

    When he scooted toward you, closing the gap between the two of you, your heart caught in your throat.


    Chapter 6: Partial Nudity


    Your thigh was touching Steve's. He was obviously interested, but you weren't sure whether he wanted you to jump him on the couch or to make sweet love in the bedroom with the lights off. You'd always assumed his style would be the latter, but you also assumed he wouldn't be into no strings sex.

    You looked into his eyes expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move.

    He reached up to the back of your neck and pulled you in for a gentle kiss. You closed your eyes and and moved a hand to his shoulder, dropping it down to rest on his bicep.

    You parted your lips, and the kiss deepened, your tongue playing across his soft lips. He let your tongue enter his mouth. You traced his top teeth with the tip of your tongue before sliding your tongue against his. The taste of vanilla lingered from his milkshake. It seemed somehow appropriate for Captain America to taste like vanilla.

    His tongue moved to explore your mouth languidly. You were quickly immersed in the smell, feel and taste of him. He was a really good and thorough kisser. You hoped it was a preview of exceptional skills to come.

    He shifted his hand on the back of your neck and tangled his fingers in your hair. You pulled back from the kiss to suck and nibble on his lower lip. The unexplored skin of his jawline tempted you, and you placed a series of open-mouthed kisses up to his earlobe, nipping it.

    Moving up slightly, you whispered into his ear, "you have absolutely no idea what you're doing to me right now, and you've barely touched me."

    He seemed to decide it was time to remedy that, and you weren't about to argue. He lifted you effortlessly onto his lap. Super strength apparently had a variety of uses. You were straddling him, knees pressed into the back of the couch.

    His hands ran over your back, down your spine, curved around to your sides and over your stomach before finally resting on your ass. Your entire torso tingled from his touch. God, you wanted him to rip your panties off and give your already throbbing clit the attention it demanded.

    You ground your hips against the bulge in his pants tentatively. He groaned and squeezed your ass, pulling you tighter against him. The wet lace of your panties only rubbed slightly against your clit. You needed more. Torturously slow foreplay be damned.

    "Please touch me?" you asked, but it came out more like begging. You weren't above begging if it led to release.

    He moved to knead your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples through the fabric.

    As nice as what he was doing felt, there was always time for it later. You hiked your dress up around your waist and moved one of his hands between your legs, tilting your hips back to grant him access. He brushed a finger from your belly button down to your lower lips.

    "Wow, you're really...wet." He seemed impressed, and you took it as a compliment. You wondered if his past partners really weren't that into him, as outlandish as that seemed.

    "It's entirely your fault." Your grin turned into a gasp when he pushed aside the fabric of the panties and a fingertip made contact with your clit. "Just rip the panties off. They're in the way."

    He curved a finger around the thin line of fabric and tugged. You smirked at the sound of ripping fabric. His hands cupped your ass again before grabbing the fabric that still covered you there. He slowly ripped the rest of your panties in half and tossed them behind you on the coffee table.

    "Now I have a souvenir!" you joked, but you really did intend to keep the panties hidden away somewhere no one else would find them.

    He chuckled and helped you take off your dress. The air conditioning had kicked on, and the draft from the ceiling vent was slightly cool on your bare skin. He was warm against you, though, and you liked the contrasting sensations.

    His fingers returned to your lower lips without your urging. He made slow circles around your clit with one finger, never making direct contact. He apparently liked to tease.

    "Please," you begged, frustrated. He stopped to readjust his hand and slip one finger, then two, inside you. His thumb returned to your clit. He began shallowly thrusting his fingers in and out of you, curving slightly upward to catch your g-spot on the in stroke. You moaned and wondered where he'd learned to do that.

    You moved your hips to meet his thrusts and were soon riding his fingers in earnest. His thumb teased you mercilessly, bringing you close to the edge before backing off again.

    He slid his free hand up your back and unclasped your bra, sliding it over your arms and onto the floor. His free hand focused on your newly exposed breasts. When he played with one of your nipples, gently pinching it and rolling it between his fingers, you were pushed to the point of no return.

    Your orgasm was like an explosion, sending pleasurable shock waves from between your legs outward and upward. It soon became so intense, almost too intense, but you didn't care. You moaned loudly and disjointed words of praise fell from your lips as you rode the orgasm out as far as it would take you.

    He stopped rubbing your clit when your orgasm ebbed, but his fingers remained inside you. You slumped forward and laid your head on his shoulder, which you noticed was still clothed.

    "You should be less dressed and more naked," you mumbled into his neck.

    "No arguments here." He withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you feeling very empty. He paused for a second before bringing those fingers up to his lips.

    You watched him slowly suck and lick each finger clean, carefully gauging your reaction. It surprised and aroused you at the same time. Captain America's bedroom tastes were nothing like his milkshake ones.

    Your mind wandered to how it would feel if his tongue was tasting you at the source. If he was even half as skilled with his mouth as he was with his hand, he'd having you climbing the walls.

    "Almost kinky is a good look on you," you commented after he finished cleaning off his fingers.

    "Almost?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I guess I'll have to try harder to get all the way there."

    You were intrigued by what "trying harder" would entail. However, there were more pressing matters at hand. Namely, getting him out of those clothes.


    Chapter 7: Interruptions

    You were trying to be sexy while you were undressing Steve, but the buttons on his shirt were a source of frustration. There were too many, they were too small, it was too slow and damn it, you wanted to be able to fully admire his naked body now.

    You fought the urge to just tug them off and add them to the pile of fabric that was formerly your panties. They could always be sewn back on later.

    "Need a little help?" He was obviously holding back laughter.

    "Yeah, I apparently never mastered this lesson in preschool." You laughed as he made quick work of the remaining buttons. He draped his button-up shirt over the back of the couch.

    "You know you wear too many shirts?" you asked, tugging the tucked in undershirt from his pants and over his head.

    You took a moment to admire the very distinct muscles of his torso. He was in better shape than any man you'd ever had the pleasure (or displeasure) of getting up close and personal with. As with all new things, you were eager to explore.

    You placed an open palm on one of his pecs, spreading your fingers out to feel the firm muscles beneath them. His breathing grew ragged when you dragged your hand down to his abs, stopping eventually at the boundary of his belt buckle.

    You began mapping out his body with your fingertips, the smooth skin of the hills, valleys and plains between. He was near perfection. You wondered how he wasn't cocky and full of himself like the other guys you'd known who definitely got the most of their gym memberships.

    His eyes fluttered shut, obviously enjoying your touch. You nudged his legs apart and moved between them to start kissing where your fingertips had been. You alternated closed mouth kisses with open mouth kisses and sometimes nibbles as you made your way over the accessible exposed skin.

    You trailed to his chest, pausing to tease a nipple with your tongue and teeth. He moaned, which was more than enough encouragement for you to give the same treatment to his other nipple. You loved all the little noises he made.

    You placed your hand on his belt buckle again and undid it, pulling it loose. At least you'd mastered this lesson in preschool. You bit your lower lip as you pulled open the button and unzipped his khakis. It was like being a little kid on Christmas opening a present, wondering how exciting its contents would be.

    He was wearing a pair of pale blue plaid boxers, similar in pattern to his shirt. You tugged them down as he lifted his hips. You pulled his shoes off and tossed aside everything he had been wearing from the waist down other than his socks.

    You returned to the spot on the floor between his legs where you were greeted by something truly impressive in both length and girth. He definitely needed the Magnums. Your jaw dropped a bit, and you wondered how you were going to work with something that massive.

    "Are you all right?" he asked, cocking his head.

    "Yeah. You know if the superhero thing doesn't work out long-term that you could have a great career in the porn industry?"

    He blushed. "Uh, thank you?"

    "I'm not a porn star, though, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle you." You frowned.

    "We'll take it slow, and I won't do anything that hurts you," he promised, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly.

    Curiosity about whether the serum enhanced everything got the better of you. You couldn't see that being a point of the serum, but you supposed it could be a side effect. "Were you always this big?"

    "Yeah. I didn't realize I was any bigger than the average guy until I saw some...amateur videos on the internet before when I was searching something Tony said that I didn't understand. I just assumed I was normal."

    You wrapped your hand around his shaft, and your fingers didn't meet. "Definitely not normal, not that I'm complaining."

    He groaned softly. You moved your fingers closer to the base and leaned forward to flick your tongue slowly across the tip.

    Another groan was all the urging you needed to envelop the head of his cock in your mouth, circling it with your tongue. He was definitely a mouthful, and you dipped your head down to take as much as you could without gagging.

    You moved your hand wrapped in tandem with your mouth -- sucking, licking, swirling your tongue around the head while your hand worked his shaft.

    You decided to make use of your free hand, and you gently rubbed and massaged his balls, thoroughly enjoying the loudest moan to pass through his lips yet.

    "Stop, stop, I'm going to-"

    You didn't stop, though, and never had any intention of doing so. He dug his fingers into your shoulder, painfully, when his orgasm hit, accompanied by a flood of unintelligible babbling. You found yourself slightly disappointed that Captain America didn't taste like apple pie and the Fourth of July. It seemed somehow inappropriate.

    You swallowed and tried to avoid anything dribbling onto your face with moderate success. He was leaning his head against the back of the couch when you glanced up at him. His eyes were closed, a sheen of sweat covering his face and torso.

    You stood up and sat down next to him on the couch, admiring his nude body again, while you waited for him to recover. You looked at your shoulder where his fingers had been, and it was already turning reddish purple. You hoped he wouldn't notice. A few bruises would serve as a reminder of the sexy fun you had.

    An unfamiliar ringtone started playing from the floor near you. You grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket and handed it to him.

    "Hello," he answered. He listened for about 45 seconds. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

    He hung up and turned to you, looking disappointed. "I have to go, but I'll call you when I'm free again, if you want me to."

    "Yeah, I'd like that." You smiled.

    He started to get dressed. "I'm sorry about this."

    "I don't mind. As you said, being Captain America comes first." And you didn't mind -- saving the world was definitely more important than getting laid.

    He finished getting dressed and grabbed his satchel.

    You walked him to the door. He wrapped his hands around your waist and leaned in for a long kiss. Your knees were left wobbly, and you leaned against the door frame for support.

    He started to walk down the hall and turned around. "You can text me if you want."

    "Okay, I will. Bye."

    You watched him walk away before you realized you were naked with your apartment door standing wide open. You quickly closed it and went back to sit down on the couch, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your life had just taken an interesting turn.


    Chapter 8: When Pigs Fly...


    You took a leisurely, relaxing hot shower to clean up from the afternoon's enjoyable activities. The date definitely hadn't turned out how you'd realistically pictured it ending, but you weren't complaining. Well, maybe you were complaining a bit about being interrupted, but there was always next time if he really wanted there to be one. You still couldn't quite wrap your head around the fact that he was okay with casual sex.

    Your mind kept wandering back to what kind of catastrophe had pulled Steve away from your date. The mental images that coursed through your mind were all gruesome and terrifying. You curled up on the couch and flipped the TV to a local news station. Maybe you'd find something out there.

    After an endless set of annoying commercials, you learned that there had been a swarm of robotic flying pigs terrorizing the city shooting laser beams. You saw the Avengers, including Captain America, in news clips battling the pigs as they tore through downtown wreaking havoc.

    Even though destruction isn't amusing, you couldn't help but laugh at how your prior thought of the likelihood that you would end up naked with Captain America had manifested into reality. Pigs, in fact, did fly through downtown, even if they were technically the robotic and laser beam shooting variety. You'd think twice about saying that phrase again.

    You yawned and sprawled out across the length of the couch, tuning out the rest of the news. It was getting late, but you decided to text Steve anyway to put your mind at ease.

    Hey, I saw you and the other Avengers on the news fighting pigs. I hope you're all okay.

    You figured he'd be in bed, and you were surprised to receive a reply a few minutes later.

    Everyone is fine. We've been through worse battles. Sorry again for having to leave so suddenly.

    I'm glad everyone is okay, and it's fine. No need to apologize. I had a really good time on our date earlier, even though it didn't quite go according to plan.

    I did, too. We could still go to the park when it's not raining, although I had something else in mind.

    What did you have in mind?

    I'd like for you to come over to my apartment. There's something I want to show you.

    You were insanely curious as to what it could be, but he probably would have divulged that if he intended for you to know beforehand. Surprises were fun, too.

    I can do that. Where is it?

    I'll pick you up. I have a debriefing in the morning, but how does tomorrow afternoon sound?

    Sounds good. I'm going to bed soon so I'll see you tomorrow. Let me know if you need directions again or if anything changes.

    Will do. Pleasant dreams.

    You put your phone on your nightstand and got ready for bed. After a few errant and possibly inappropriate thoughts entertaining what tomorrow would hold, a deep and restful sleep came quickly.


    Chapter 9: The Mambo


    Your ringtone jarred you from a deep sleep, completely and totally groggy. It took you a minute to get your bearings enough to answer your phone.

    "Hello?" you mumbled.

    "Did I wake you?"

    "Steve?" You rubbed your eyes and looked at your alarm clock. It was already almost noon.

    "I was just calling you to tell you I'm downstairs. I texted you earlier."

    "God, I'm so sorry. I'll be ready in...well, give me about 15 minutes. You can come up if you want."

    "I'll wait downstairs."

    "Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes."

    You cursed to yourself as you stumbled out of bed. You rushed to throw some clean clothes on and do the bare essentials like make your hair look halfway presentable and brush your teeth. At least you'd showered yesterday after he left.

    17 minutes later, you rushed downstairs hoping you hadn't forgotten anything. You found Steve holding a paper cup with the logo of the coffee shop down the street on it.

    He seemed pleased to see you, which put a smile on your face. You were worried he'd be annoyed you overslept. He handed you the cup. "It sounded on the phone like you could use this."

    "Thank you. I'm so sorry. I didn't think to set my alarm." You sipped the still too hot coffee, slightly burning your tongue.

    "Don't worry about it." He smiled and ran a hand down your shoulder.

    You winced as he hit the bruised spot from the day before.

    A concerned look crossed his face, and he lifted up your short sleeve to peek underneath. You tried to tug your arm away, but he snatched your wrist with his other hand and held on to it firmly but gently.

    When you pulled against his hold on your wrist, you realized you couldn't move your hand an inch. You wouldn't admit it, at least not yet, but it was more than slightly arousing that he could overpower you like that. It had a lot of potentially fun applications if he was okay with them. You weren't sure how serious he'd been about trying harder to be kinky.

    You watched him look at the bruises and gingerly place his fingers on top of them, matching them in size and shape.

    "I'm fine. I've done worse to myself getting into my car," you assured him.

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    He frowned and sighed. He started to open his mouth to say something, but stopped.

    "Really. I wouldn't take anything from yesterday back if I could. Not a single second of it."

    "I'll be more careful," he promised, placing a kiss on your forehead.

    "So you're definitely still interested in..." You glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

    "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, obviously confused. "Did you change your mind?"

    "Just making sure we're on the same page so I don't do anything to make you uncomfortable." You took his hand in yours and squeezed it. He entwined his fingers with yours for a moment before your hands separated.

    You finished your coffee quickly and tossed the cup in the trash can outside the door. Coffee was definitely exactly what you needed. "Is your place far from here?"

    "Not very, about 15 minutes."

    You walked with him out to his motorcycle and got on the seat behind him. It was another cloudy day, a bit on the cool side. You pulled yourself closer into his warmth since you hadn't thought to take a jacket with you.

    The ride wasn't terribly long, and you'd at least thought to wear jeans to lessen the degree of torture inflicted on you by the vibrations of the motorcycle's engine. You wondered if motorcycles were torture for men, too, filing it away as a question to ask later.

    He pulled into a space in front of a red brick apartment building in an area you weren't very familiar with. Thunder cracked, and you walked quickly into the building to avoid the rain, following him upstairs and down a long hallway before he stopped.

    He unlocked the door and opened it, ushering you in. You walked in and felt immediately like you were in another era. The furniture, the sparse decor, everything you could see was straight out of the 1940s, whether it be replicas or actual antiques.

    "Nice apartment," you said, walking over to an antique radio and looking at it.

    "Tony...fixed it for me. He put a music player in it with some songs and old broadcasts on it." He turned it on, and Bing Crosby started playing.

    "Oh, 'Moonlight Becomes You.' I remember this one," you said.

    "You've listened to this before?" he asked, surprised.

    "Yeah. Someone I knew had stacks of old records, and I listened to them." You paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Hey, would you like to dance?"

    "I never learned how," he admitted.

    "I meant dancing that doesn't require lessons," you clarified. "Here, I'll show you." You placed his hands on your waist and wrapped your hands around his shoulders. "And you kind of just move around slowly? It's not really dancing."

    He pulled you close to him, his hands resting on the small of your back. You laid your head on his shoulder, inhaling his lightly masculine scent, and slowly swayed to the music. One track faded into another. Time passed in a pleasant, slow manner while you were in his arms.

    You moved up to your toes to kiss his neck. Your kisses were chaste at first, but soon you started licking and nibbling the skin you could reach with your mouth.

    He moved his hands from your lower back down to the back of your thighs and effortlessly hoisted you up to eye level.

    "I thought you wanted to dance?" he asked.

    "Well, there's always the horizontal mambo," you offered with a mischievous smirk.

    "Horizontal mambo?" He obviously didn't get the reference.

    "It's my favorite dance of all." You moved your hands down to squeeze his ass and press your hips harder into him.

    "Oh!"

    You laughed.

    He carried you to the nearest wall and pushed your back against it. His lips pressed to yours hard, tongue quickly claiming your mouth. You moaned into his mouth when he began grinding into you a bit. Your fingers dug into his back through his shirt, and your legs wrapped around him tighter.

    Hopefully, no additional catastrophes would prevent you from thoroughly enjoying the bulge pressing against you through too many layers of fabric.

    The music changed to something that sounded like it belonged in an old Disney cartoon. You tried to tune it out, but he broke the kiss and looked annoyed. "I told Tony to take that song off of the radio."

    "What is it?" you asked.

    "It's a propaganda song from the war." He sighed.

    "Not the greatest mood music."

    He moved a hand to your back to support you and walked over to the radio and shut it off. "Now, where were we?"

    "Wait, what was it that you wanted to show me?" you asked, wondering if it was a sexy surprise.

    "Later," he said, pressing your back into the wall again.


    Chapter 10: Surprises


    Steve rolled you over onto your back and climbed on top of you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, brushing against yours unhurriedly. You hooked your legs around his, tilting your hips back slightly.

    He pressed his already hardening member against your clit. You squirmed around him to move him toward your entrance. Virgins didn't tend to have any STIs, not that he could probably catch any with the serum regardless. That was your biggest reason to insist on protection.

    This was an exception to the rule of not trusting men to be honest. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel him bareback.

    He broke the kiss and mumbled into your ear, "I don't want to get you pregnant."

    "I take birth control," you replied into his ear, nipping the lobe.

    He furrowed his brow. "I don't know."

    "We can use protection if it would make you more comfortable." You kissed his jawline down to suck on the sensitive skin of his neck, salty from sweat produced by your previous activities.

    He groaned. "I, I..." Instead of completing his sentence, he pushed the head of his cock into you. He inhaled sharply. "That feels...wow."

    "Yeah, it does," you agreed, rocking your hips against him, trying to take him deeper.

    He slowly buried himself inside you and paused when he was completely engulfed in your very wet heat. His eyes were closed and seemed to be rolling up into the back of his head.

    You experimentally squeezed him with your inner muscles. You were rewarded with a shudder and what would probably qualify as a whimper. It was strange to hear Captain America whimper.

    "Don't do that yet. Give me a minute." He pressed his forehead against yours. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

    "I think I might have an inkling," you responded with a chuckle.

    He withdrew a bit. "I'm not sure how long this is going to last."

    "Well, you already beat your previous record," you joked.

    His thrusts were slow and long. You moved your hips to meet his thrusts quicker and harder, encouraging him to increase the pace.

    "Fuck me like you mean it," you commanded, biting his neck and digging your nails into him to show him what you meant.

    "I, uh...okay, we'll do it your way," he said eventually, pushing himself up to adjust the angle. He completely withdrew and slammed into you with a single hard and fast thrust, hopefully a preview of what was to come. "Give me your hands."

    You offered your hands to him. He used one of his large hands to grasp your wrists and push them up against the headboard, firmly but not painfully. You didn't expect him to go along with it and gave him a small pleased grin. You licked your lips and looked into his eyes expectantly.

    He thrust into you again. The pace he set was harder and faster than you'd ever experienced before. It verged and trickled over the edge into painful, but the pleasure overrode any other sensations that were coursing through your body. You'd found the ideal partner for rough sex. If you could, you'd personally send a thank you note to Dr. Erskine.

    Steve obviously wasn't holding back much, if at all. It was very arousing to see a man who you'd always thought of as so restrained and proper coming undone inside you. You weren't going to be able to walk straight, but it was worth it. Entirely worth it.

    You couldn't focus on anything coherently other than the feel of him crashing into you before withdrawing completely, only to repeat a moment later.

    That imposing cock of his was forcing you to accommodate it over and over again, stretching you until you couldn't possibly be stretched anymore. It was making you submit to its carnal desires while your hands were suspended over your head underneath his impossibly strong grasp, rendering you helpless.

    "Come for me," he demanded huskily.

    "What will you do if I don't?" you asked breathlessly, wondering how he'd respond.

    "I'll, I'll....fuck you harder until you can't take it anymore," he blurted out. His face grew more flushed. You were pretty sure he was very embarrassed. Dirty talk wasn't one of his fortes. Yet.

    You suppressed your grin at his blush. "I need you to touch my clit," you begged.

    He released your hands and moved to kneel in front of you, pulling your body up off the bed until it was lined up with him again. His cock sunk deep into you, and he started thrusting at his previous pace.

    He grabbed one of your legs by the ankle and placed it on his shoulder, changing the angle slightly. One of his hands held onto your thigh while the other moved between your legs, rubbing your clit roughly.

    "Come," he demanded again.

    "Give me a second," you breathed.

    Instead of giving you a second, he thrust into you harder, his fingers digging into sensitive skin as he rubbed your clit in quick circles. It wasn't going to take much of this.

    "God!" you sobbed as he brought you over the edge, pleasurably, painfully, but most of all intensely. Your head spun, and you forgot how to breathe. Sweat or tears were streaming down your face. You really weren't sure which.

    He groaned and tensed with an orgasm that went on and on, eyes squeezed shut. His thrusts grew sporadic until he stopped completely, pulling out and flopping down onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily.

    "Where did you?" you asked, wondering what had corrupted him like that.

    "Internet," he replied with his eyes still closed.

    "Did you...touch yourself to it?" You didn't want to embarrass him too much with cruder terms.

    "Yeah," he admitted, "but I felt bad for a while...and now."

    "You shouldn't feel bad."

    He looked at you through half-closed eyes for a moment, before completely opening them. His hand went to your face brushed away some of the wetness.

    "Did I make you cry?" he asked worriedly.

    "No, it might be sweat. Just really intense, that's all," you reassured him.

    "Did I hurt you?"

    You held your fingers up with your thumb and index finger close together. "Doesn't stop me from wanting to do it again, though. Didn't you enjoy it?"

    He sighed and kissed your forehead without responding to your question. "I guess I just need to get used to, well, this. Everything really is different now."

    "Yeah, I can only imagine. Are you going to be okay?"

    "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he countered.

    "Being sore isn't a big deal." You shrugged. "What do you want to do now? We could talk, if you want."

    He shook his head. "Just lay here with me for a while."

    You laid your head on his chest and draped yourself over him. "This okay?"

    "Mhmm," he replied, stroking your hair.

    You melted into the comforting warmth radiating from his body and barely noticed when you started to doze off against him.


    Chapter 11: New Beginnings


    You woke up alone in an unfamiliar bed. You wondered where you were for a moment before the events that had transpired cascaded into your mind. You had no regrets, but you were concerned about Steve. Virgins were complicated creatures, especially virgins misplaced in time.

    Rolling over, you looked around and saw him sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed with a sketchpad and a pencil, engrossed in what he was doing. He had put on a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

    "Hey," you said, smiling at him. "What are you drawing?"

    He glanced up from the sketchpad, startled. "Oh, it's nothing."

    "Let me see?" You got up out of bed and walked over to him. Everything between your legs dully ached, but it was still worth it.

    You looked over his shoulder to see the sketch. It was you, sleeping in his bed. Your breasts and the juncture between your thighs were covered by rumpled blankets. His portrayal was very accurate. The anatomy was perfect. He was undeniably talented, and you felt honored that he'd chosen to sketch you.

    "That's really good," you said. "I wish I had your talent."

    "It's no big deal, really," he responded, modestly.

    "Do you have more of your work?" you asked, eager to see it.

    "It's in the other room. Actually, what I wanted to show you is in there, too." He stood.

    You followed him through the living room into the second bedroom. He flipped the light on. The walls were lined with bookshelves containing binders and sketchbooks. A desk was in the middle of the room with art supplies and an open binder on it.

    He handed the binder to you, and you saw your letter inside a sheet protector. You flipped through the pages and saw other letters, drawings from children, some postcards from various locations.

    "Are all these binders fan mail?" you asked, looking at the dozens of binders incredulously.

    He nodded. "I'm going to need more space eventually."

    "And you responded to every last one?"

    "All the ones with a return address. I don't need to sleep as much as most people do so I have plenty of time."

    "It's so sweet of you to do that, you know. You probably made a lot of people really happy with your replies."

    "What about you?" he asked, pursing his lips.

    "I'm happy you replied to my letter. The past couple of days have been a lot of fun. More importantly, though, are you glad you replied to my letter?"

    "Yeah. I still need to take you to Central Park. Maybe the weather will cooperate soon."

    "You know you don't have to do that, if you don't really want to."

    "No, I want to." He brushed an errant strand of hair off of your face. "Well, unless you don't want to. What do you want?"

    You shrugged. "I'm good with wherever you want to take this. If you just want to get together for sex, then we-"

    "No," he quickly interrupted you. "I wouldn't...use a girl like that."

    "So we could date, but use the term loosely?" you offered. "We don't really have to label it if you don't want to."

    "No labels," he agreed.

    "Although, I have one request," you started. You took a deep breath. "Can we be a bit discreet? I know the tabloids don't follow you like they do Tony Stark, but I'd rather not deal with being harassed by anyone. I'm not ashamed or anything like that, though."

    "That's reasonable."

    He walked toward the door, and you followed him through the living room and into the kitchen. He took two small glasses out of the cabinet and a bottle of whiskey out of the refrigerator.

    "I don't have any champagne or wine," he said. "Alcohol doesn't affect me so I don't keep much of it around."

    He filled the glasses and handed one to you.

    "To new beginnings," he said as he clinked your glass, "and wherever they will take us."

    "To new beginnings," you agreed and took a drink.

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