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Heat pooling in your belly, knees wobbling as Steve’s big hands travelled on your body and you were in the elevator but who cared? Not you. Neither did Steve. Warm, wet kisses along your jaw, finding your pulse on your neck and biting it softly as you moaned, Steve Rogers was enjoying the rush of getting caught. “Please just let me touch you,” you begged, panting and shaking at the same time, huffing the hair falling on your forehead. “Please?” you insisted when his lips found where your neck and shoulder joined, teasing and biting the spot, Steve really wanted to make you beg. And he always succeeded.

One of his thighs was pressed between your legs and if you could just move your ass a little bit,  you would get the friction you craved so badly. Perhaps he would let you get off from his thick thigh before your reach to your floor but of course, Captain had other plans. Steve’s strong hands were keeping you where you belong firmly, not giving you what you needed until he had you squirming, begging and moaning with his touch. “No-uh,” he stopped you with his arm, his lips teasing your neck still. “You cannot move nor kiss me until you tell me that you need me,” he explained, his light touch finding one of your nipples under your shirt, toying with your body however he pleased. He became the Captain in the bed –well in the elevator in this case– and you were not complaining. Not at all. 

His hand slid inside your shorts, and passed your panties, finding your wet heat and you bit your lip, trying not to give him what he wanted. If he wanted to make you beg, he had to work harder. Steve pressed his hand on your clit, feeling his fingers getting wet and his cerulean eyes were staring in your soul, his mouth just open enough to get his fingers into his mouth, making as much noise as possible and you just wanted to bite his bottom lip and to get your tongue inside of his mouth and maybe to yank his hair to make him moan as payback. “Tell me you need me, and I will let you touch me,” he said again and brought his wet fingers back into your panties, teasing the inside of your thighs and everywhere except where you wanted him to. “Come on sweetheart, just say the words,” Steve said, almost begging you to beg him. He craved the taste of your mouth as much as you craved his but god, you were a sight to see when you were flustered. 

“Fine,” you mumbled under your breath, feeling like a bird in a cage except your cage was his body — and boy it was a hell of a body —  and he was keeping you between the wall and himself, not giving you enough room to move. 

“What was that?” Steve grinned, his perfect teeth made you wanna punch his face. “Repeat it, please?” he said as he sank his fingers deeper and you just wanted him to be faster. Faster, harder and his lips on yours.

“I need you,” you said, trying not to roll your eyes at him. “Can you please get to the part where you finger me harder and kiss me? I am not getting any younger in here,” you barked and he chuckled, even though his fingers were inside of you and you were on the edge, he chuckled. 

Steve Rogers was a demanding, controlling bastard in the bed but no one ever made you laugh during sex. Not one person. You opened your mouth, to give him a piece of your mind when the elevator stopped and he walked back, releasing you from his muscle cage and you raced him to your bedroom, to finally get what you wanted.