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Boots

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Steve watched eagerly as Sam settled into a chair, still in the Falcon getup but finally relaxed. Sam nodded. Steve knelt naked before him, looked up, and smiled. Then he pulled one of Sam's boots up onto his thigh and lovingly unbuckled each buckle, made Sam comfortable, got Sam's boots ready to clean.

Sam smirked, and gently pressed down. It would leave the tread of Sam's boot imprinted on his body, if all too briefly. Steve knew there would be more pain, more pleasure later, but for now he had art to make, a service to do with cloth and brush and polish.