Avengers Inserts: Fan Mail

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.