It isn’t like Steve was a virgin or anything but it wasn’t like he had regular sex. Everyone knows what he looked like before the serum: lanky, pale, body covered in clothes that were too large for his thin frame, always ill. He wasn’t exactly anyone’s type. He wasn’t exactly Bucky Barnes or anything. And he accepted that, lived with it, came to terms with that. He knew that it took some convincing on Bucky’s part to get his date to bring along one of their friends for Steve. An effort was made and Steve appreciated it, he really did.
Just because relationships and sex were practically off the table for him it didn’t stop him from wanting, didn’t stop that yearn from within. He did want the feel the softness of a woman against his body, the curves and the suppleness. He did want to hear a woman’s delicate voice in his ear, smooth and velvety, high breathless whines and his own name. He did want to be the one to bring a woman pleasure in a plethora of different ways: hands, lips, tongue, cock. It was an underlying simmer that he lived with.
His first time with a woman was…interesting. It was short, Steve almost had an asthma attack, and he’s pretty sure Bucky might have paid her for her services. In terms of completion it was a success for Steve. His fantasies about bringing a woman pleasure were crushed by his nervousness and anxiety about the situation. It was also in a darkened room so, while Steve felt those soft parts of a woman he craved, he didn’t set eyes on them. Steve had only had one sexual interaction after his first time and before he went into the ice and that was one Peggy Carter.
She was the softness and fierceness he desired, the curve and the womanly breathiness he wanted. There was no intercourse, but it was worlds apart from what his first experience was like. It gave him hope that he could have everything he wanted and more, that his thoughts could become a reality. She was in the forefront of his mind when he went after Bucky, when he promised to come back; it was all because of her. What ended up becoming reality was vastly different than he had ever anticipated.
Life was different in every meaning of the word in his new post-serum form. His body became extremely similar to the ones that he watched women pine over for years. His new form was larger, broader, stronger than his former self, something he appreciated in terms of his own peace of mind and the list of previous health concerns. He also was keen on the new-found appreciation for his looks by quite the handful of people. He had never turned heads or had eyes rover up and down over his form. He had never had girls look at him the way they had looked at Bucky, all half-lidded eyes and bites of the lip. He had been flustered and overwhelmed and honestly always horny and hard. The serum effected everything about his body and mind.
With time he became more comfortable, became acquainted with this effect he had on the general population. He was never one to take advantage of it but if he slipped in a “doll” with a wink or bit his lip some no one seemed to mind.
He wasn’t a naive man; he knew he had become desirable. But this was a vastly different feeling than before the ice, than before the serum. He was ashamed to admit that, while he would never take advantage of his new-found appearance and body, he most definitely soaked in the effect of it. He let people look, let himself get caught up with mere strangers. He let himself get hit on and let himself share mutual arousal. He didn’t have this before, couldn’t get women to even talk to him, but now? Now he could get anyone he wanted and if that is one of the things that comes with being Captain American then so be it.
Everything Steve craved in a woman came in the form of her. She was shapely and fiery and compassionate, had a beautiful smile, cared so deeply for others, had a keen artistic eye. She reminded him briefly of Peggy. She was everything he desired for so long and Steve couldn’t get enough of her ever since they ran into each other in the park one afternoon. Steve had been running (at an acceptably human pace which was much more difficult than he anticipated) and had barely seen her crouched down to tie her shoe. After somersaulting right over her, profusely apologizing as he caught his footing, she was right there to put him in check. While she pointed her finger and shouted Steve was pretty sure he had the dopiest grin plastered on his face, his heart on his sleeve. Steve had come across many women and men at that point, but no one had him as smitten as she did in that moment.
While Steve was not entirely used to his body and its effect on others, he knew that he was physically attractive. At that point he was used to having things given to him, having people throw themselves on him, and what he didn’t expect was for this little lady to make him chase after her, make him the one to pursue her. “You’ve gotten lazy, Captain,” she had whispered through a smirk after their first date, one of his hands on her hip and the other on her neck. She left him aching in the hallway of her apartment building, a sweet kiss on his cheek, a promise of next time. He went home and touched himself to thoughts of her, deep and fast, desperation he hadn’t felt in so long creeping through. He wanted her like no one else he had wanted before, felt it in his bones. He had to have her.
He was a patient man, ran after her willingly, doted on her and cherished her. He took his time and enjoyed their flirtatious banter, the chase being delicious. The first time he got his lips on hers he damn near melted through the floor, making a low noise and pulling her close. Nothing he had or would ever hear could compare to the breathy moan of “Steve…” leaving her mouth. The sound of her quickening heartbeat left him breathless and if a few kisses had left him in this state he couldn’t imagine what anything of an increased intimacy would do.
Once he shared a kiss with her the floodgates opened and he became almost obsessive with the need to feel her small frame against his, under him, on top of him. Laying on the couch watching a movie, marveling at how petite she was compared to him, how she fit perfectly on top of him, left him embarrassingly desperate. Being around her always left him half-hard, just the thought of how her smooth frame feels under his large hands, how her supple curves feel pressed against his muscular frame—it was maddening.
He found deep noises pouring from his throat, purring, when they would engage in a heated makeout session, holding her close, sucking on her tongue and bottom lip, eagerness seeping through their motions. He loved curling his fingers around the nape of her neck, holding her close, knowing that he could keep her there with his strength. What tickled him even more was the fact that she loved when he showed his force, showed that he was strong enough, man enough, to hold her close, to push her around, to pick her up. He never dreamed he could do this to a woman and to have it now, with her, was indescribable.
The desire to please a woman has always been present within him. He loved showing her how much he appreciated her presence in his life especially considering he hadn’t had the chance in his first life. The first time his hand flitted under her dress, pressing against her warm center, he could barely keep his eyes open as he watched her face crumble. She couldn’t even resist his advances and that excited him. She wanted him in every way but there was also a dark part of his brain that reveled in the fact that she physically could not resist his efforts. He took so much pleasure in her own, his erection throbbing, his chest expanding, pushing and strumming her closer to completion. She had been so wet, so deliciously wet, pushing two fingers between her folds, thumbing at her clit, unwavering need to push her to completion.
“Come on, honey. So close, lemme have it, come on,” he had whispered against her lips, unoccupied hand running up to cup the back of her neck, holding her there, making her take it because he could, because she wanted him to and because he could. With a lingering kiss to her gasping mouth, a few perfectly-timed strokes in her sweet pussy and on her swollen clit, she shattered, completely came apart underneath him, moaning his name and her mindless noises. It was beautiful and erotic and left Steve wanting to make her come again and again and again because he could. He had spent years and years wanting to bring a beautiful woman to orgasm, make her beside herself with pleasure, and here she was.
Eating her out, getting his mouth and tongue and lips on her sweet pussy, was arguably his favorite act aside from being inside of her, one with her. The first time she had been so shy, so coy, breathless and argumentative, expressing how uncomfortable she had been but there being an underlying heat there.
“Steve, please, I-I don’t…”. She writhed on the bed beneath his grip, hectic movements, so torn between leaning into his touch, his lips, and skirting away. He pressed open-mouthed kisses up her neck to the underside of her jaw, knowing her weak spot, pressing her into the mattress, hand on the waistband of her underwear. A chilling thrill ran up his spine at his easy show of force.
“Baby,” he had cooed, hand on her hips, keeping her from bucking up and he felt her melt against him at his warm rumble of a tone, the term of endearment. “Lemme make you feel good. I’ve been thinkin’ about getting my mouth on your pussy for weeks.” His outspoken desire made her gasp, made her head fall back into the pillow, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. His insides warmed at her response and the added layer that he had this power over a woman settles deliciously over that warmth.
He worked and kissed down her body, nipping and soothing, caressing and worshiping. Her previous opposition were no where to be found, her sighs and whines filling his ears, the sight of her coming apart at his ministrations making his mouth water. When he found himself between her thighs, so soft, he kissed her hips, the juncture between her hips and thighs, the skin around where she so badly wanted his attention. He gave her a plethora of teasing build-up, leaving her writhing and whimpering for more, which was exactly where he had wanted her.
He took her apart slowly, watching her resolve shatter, licking between her sweet folds, circling and flicking his tongue over her clit. His warm mouth found itself naturally and erotically circling around her bud, wet and heavy, sucking lightly and swiping his tongue down and through her wetness. It was heady, the experience, laying there between her thighs, drinking in her juices, bringing her closer and closer to that wave of pleasure. When he felt her lithe fingers dig into his scalp he moaned in encouragement, running his teeth along her clit, making her choke on her moan.
“So wet for me, honey—so fucking wet. You’re dripping,” he rumbled, rapidly flicking his tongue against her clit once the words were spoken. Her response was messy, gargled and it brought him immense pleasure. By the time he slipped one and then two thick fingers between her folds she was more than ready to come, begging, shouting that Steve was so close to making her come. Once the words were said, Steve’s focus centered in; he had to make her come. A man like himself gives women orgasms, has the pleasure of and is capable of doing so.
His fingers stroked her beautifully while he pressed his face, his mouth, ever further into her pussy, chin wet, eyes focused up. He had felt it before it happened, her insides quivering, and her orgasm shattered over her. He held open her thighs, fingertips pressing hard enough to bruise, another show of force that thrilled him. Her back arched as she rode through the waves, hips rolling naturally, his name falling from her lips again and again and he swore there was he had experienced anything more gratifying.
As their relationship progressed his love and desire and eagerness for her only grew, amplified. He learned more about who she was as a person, her likes and dislikes, what she was like when she was sleepy or angry or sad. The more time he spent with her the more he fell for her, the more she meant to him. The more time he spent with her the more he wanted to show her so, show her just how much he loved the woman she was. That show of appreciation came in the form of sex, amongst other forms.
Sex was his favorite. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had much in the first twenty-something years of his life, maybe it was the serum, maybe it was just his attraction to her. Whatever it was it had him damn near drowning in his constant need for her. He couldn’t even tell you a favorite position or anything that he favored specific to sex; he loved it all.
He loved the build-up to sex with her, the teasing and the soft sighs and eager fingers. He unwrapped her like a present each time, cherishing every inch of her delicate frame, so delicate. He loved the feel of her fingers and palms on his skin, curling around his biceps or shoulders, running up his back, grasping his jaw. He was embarrassed to admit that his favorite part of foreplay is when she acknowledged his size. Most comments came in the form of pleased noises as she roved his body but there were times when Steve would be more than ready to slide into her sweet body, but she blushes and asks him to open her up, to stretch her, because of the size of his cock. He preens, purring into her skin, easily gives her what she needs, using the opportunity to make her come. He’ll coo his own praise into her ears, indulging himself in the chance to talk about his own size, his own cock.
“Ohh, you’re right, sugar—gotta get you all stretched and ready for my fat cock, yeah? Such a tight little cunt, don’t want you hurtin’…”
When she eagerly agreed with him, “Yes, Steve—so big, so fuckin’ big”, he swore he saw stars.
He adored the feel of her on top of him. The way her thighs felt wrapped around his waist, trembling sensuously as she swirled and rolled and raised her hips. He could never take his eyes off of her, half-lidded at best, watching as she took her own pleasure, using him to do so. He could lay back and watch her fuck him, watch her confidence bloom with his stares and noises and guidance, unable to grasp that he was the one with a woman riding herself to orgasm after orgasm, that he was the one whose words and body got her there.
He more often than not found himself rambling while her satin form writhes and bounced.
“Fuck, baby. Love that sweet little pussy, oh god. Look at you. So fuckin’ perfect. Love when you use me, use my fuckin’ cock to get you off. Oh sugar—you gonna come?”
He loved when she became near delirious with pleasure, so beyond herself and worn out that there was no other option but for him to take over. This is where he shined, he preened, because he could take over. He could sit up and roll her over and take her slowly but purposefully, taking his time in sending her into another orgasm with his praise and his pointed thrusts. His stamina was a gift, able to go for hours at a time, and he used that time wisely. He could rock into her from on top of her form, caging her in, protecting her. He could lean down and cup and knead at her breasts softly, lick and nip and suck at her sensitive nipples. He loved feeling her form underneath his, holding her down and fucking into her sweet body.
He adored when she wanted it rough, usually around her third orgasm, begging for it. “S-Steve, please, oh God fuck me, please,” she would beg, and he couldn’t help but tease, making her wiggle. “I am fuckin’ you, sugar…” he would taunt with a slick and slow thrust, kissing at her jaw. She would whine and pout, adorable, and clarify, “Harder, Steve. Want it harder, p-please,” and how could he deny them both?
Showing force with her was something that struck a dark cord within him. Where he had been more delicate and smaller than most women in his first life, he could finally be the man he had always wanted to be. When she liked it rough, when she was nearing the maximum rounds for her, she liked to present for him on all fours with her ass in the air. It made Steve’s vision fuzzy. He could smack her ass, smile when she groaned, hold her hips in his grip, so breakable, and slide home with a rumble.
He turned into somewhat of an animal in this position, the sounds of their slick skin slapping together urging him on. The noises that rose from both of them were carnal, uninhibited, deep and pleasured. When she would crash through yet another orgasm, form almost collapsing beneath him, he would grab her and hold her close, leaning over her exhausted body. He would somewhat get tunnel vision, focused on how many times he made her come and how he protected her yet simultaneously dominated her.
His hand would find her overstimulated clit, fingers firm and purposeful, much like his thrusts, and he would growl in her ear as she shrieked. “One more, baby, come on just one more for me,” he would command, voice a low rumble as she frantically shook her head. “I can’t S-Steve, there’s no—” and he’d cut her off with a nip to her skin, thrumming his fingers harder. Her not coming again wasn’t an option.
“Come on, lemme have it, want it so bad. You’ll give it to me,” his voice would be mean but sweet, taunting as he felt the familiar quiver of her pussy around his length. She’d writhe and quake beneath him, his vision swimming as he neared his own release, at last. As her hoarse hysterical voice rang through his ears, her body collapsing beneath his, his hand couldn’t help but go to grip the back of her neck and make her take it. His grip was harsh, his hips were brutal, but he made her take every fucking drop with a roar, grinding down on top of her, blanketing his much larger form over her own.
He would always hold her close after, moving her body where he chose, praising her for taking him so well, cooing and purring into her skin. His head would clear, her breathing would even out, and he would hold her, continuing to marvel in the difference between his first life and his second and how luck he was to have found her.