Steve was a man of many faces. The cool, calm exterior he put on display at work. The soft, romantic side he showed at home, when he loosened his tie and turned on that good ol fashioned Tennessee charm. And while those faces were all well and good, there was nothing you loved more than Steve when he was a little worked up.
Days when he was like cinnamon whiskey, his rough kisses and touches setting your skin ablaze, spreading warmth through your body like wildfire.
Days like today, when he rolled into the apartment like a summer storm, the front door slamming shut like a boom of thunder.
You were washing dishes, elbow deep in warm, sudsy water when he stalked into the kitchen. He hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t need to. You could tell he’d had a shit day from the way his blue eyes flashed like lightning as they’d settled on yours.
You’d opened your mouth to speak, but he was on you in an instant, kissing you hungrily as his tongue pried your lips apart. He’d swallowed down your shocked squeal, fingers digging into your sides as he held you tightly against him.
That’s how you find yourself sitting on top of the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around Steve’s hips as he kisses you with breathtaking intensity.
His hands roam your body, rucking up the bottom of your shirt to paw at the skin beneath. Steve nips at your bottom lip, tugging on it and your wanton moan tumbles out into the still quiet of the room.
“Steve, baby,” you pull away breathlessly, but his lips are already slotted against yours again, as if drawn by magnets.
“Need you,” he mumbles with another open-mouthed kiss. “Really fuckin need you.” He leans his forehead against yours.
He’s breathing deeply, hot breath spilling across your face. A heavy flush spread over his face, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. Strands of his blonde hair, disheveled from both his fingers and yours, fall over his eyes; his pupils are blown wide with lust, swallowing the darkening irises. Steve’s fingers play with the waistband of your sleep shorts, undoing the ties at the front with deft fingers.
And you can’t refuse him, you don’t want to. Not when he’s looking at you like he wants to wreck you, wholly and completely. To fuck you until he loses himself in your body, and forgets the trials the day has wrought on him. Forgets himself.
You tangle your fingers into the lapels of his leather jacket, eyes flickering down to his kiss-swollen lips. “What’s wrong?” You try a last time, see if you can squeeze out any information about what’s bothering him.
Steve shakes his head. “Not right now.” The soft plea for comfort hidden beneath steel eyes and layers of smoldering rage.
“Okay.” You pull him back to you by his jacket, and capture his lips again.
You’ll get it out of him later, once he’s used you up. Fucked you till you’re aching in the best way, and he has no more anger left to give. After he’s used your body to extinguish the biting flames raging inside of him. Then, amongst sweet kisses and cigarette smoke, he’ll confide in you, confess his troubles on the altar of your love. For now, you’ll let him use your body, seek comfort in your flesh.
Steve yanks you to the edge of the counter, removing your shorts and panties in one tug. Your shirt is the next item to be carelessly tossed over his shoulder. A problem for another time. You sit before him, naked as the day you were born, on the same counter he’d leaned against this morning as he ate cereal, the one you’d set his dinner on earlier in the night.
He wastes no time putting his lips on your body. Biting, sucking, bruising the skin of your neck as his mouth traces an invisible trail down your body.
You tug on his hair sharply, clit throbbing as he bites the swell of your breast, leaving a mark only he’ll be able to see. One he’ll kiss tomorrow morning, and every morning after until it finally fades.
Steve chuckles, hot breath hitting your nipple. His hand wrenches your thighs apart, fingers settling on the sticky warmth that greets him. His own personal homecoming.
“Y’like when I’m a little rough with ya, huh?” He asks, teeth raking over your nipple while his fingers tease your clit.
You hiss out a “yes” and his teeth tug on the hardened bud.
Steve presses his thumb to your clit, rubs it in slow circles. “Yeah, my pretty girl,” he muses, soothing the bite with his tongue. “I know you’re not gonna break.” He latches onto the side of your breast, lips and teeth leaving the skin a shade darker.
You moan brokenly as his mouth moves to your other breast, and two of his fingers tease your entrance. They dip into you shallowly, providing just the slightest stretch before Steve pulls them out again. He teases you like this, over and over, drawing impatient whines from your lips.
The asshole just grins against your ear, and flicks his thumb over your clit.
“More,” you whimper, lifting your hips towards his hand.
“Greedy,” he simply teases, fingers catching against your entrance once again. “More what?”
“Fingers, Steve,” you mumble under your breath.
Steve hums, nipping at the shell of your ear. “What’s that? Can’t hear you, sweetheart.
“I want your fingers, Steve.”
Your desperate plea is music to his ears. “There’s my girl,” he praises, slipping his fingers inside of you. “Love the way you say my name, honey.” Steve crooks his fingers inside of you.
You pull his lips back to yours. His fingers move inside of you, drawing moans and breathless cries from your throat that he swallows down with each and every kiss. They fall off your tongue like honey; gasoline to the inferno in Steve’s chest. He grips your thighs, holding them apart as he fucks you open with his fingers. The room is quiet, save for your heavy breathing and the filthy sounds of his fingers thrusting inside of you; wet, squelching noises that make your face burn hot.
You tilt your head back, lips parting around a desperate moan. Steve leans forward and kisses your chin, a sweet gesture that only intensifies the pleasure growing in your stomach.
“Want you to come for me.” His lips ghost over your jaw. “Want you to come all over my fingers. Can you do that, honey? Can you be a good girl and come for me?”
“Yes, Steve, don’t stop, ” you cry, eyes screwing shut when he trips over that one spot deep inside of you. “ Oh , right there.” You grab his wrist, thighs shuddering as your orgasm washes over you.
Steve watches you fall apart, a hungry smile on his face. You’ve never looked more beautiful than when you let go for him; face slack and body trembling as you reach that sublime peak. You’ve got a death grip on his wrist; midnight-blue lacquered nails biting into his skin, sure to leave little crescents behind, but he doesn’t care. He relishes the sweet pain, lets it drive his fingers into you faster, until you push his hand away with a broken curse.
Steve takes a step back, eyes drifting down your body idly, pausing on the little bruises already forming from his love bites. They fall to your cunt, a sticky mess that glistens in the harsh light of the kitchen.
You track his movements sluggishly, the fog in your brain still clearing slowly from the orgasm he’d just wrenched out of you.
A lazy smirk spreads over his features when his gaze catches yours. Steve winks and lifts his fingers up to your mouth. “Open,” he says, tone taking on an authoritative edge that makes your still overstimulated clit throb.
You part your lips and he slides his fingers between them. A strangled groan escapes from the back of his throat as your tongue swirls around his digits, cleaning yourself off of them.
“Good girl,” Steve breathes out, and there’s lightning in his eyes again. You release his fingers with a pop, and his thumb strokes your bottom lip. “‘M gonna fuck you now,” he says, more a promise than a declaration. “Can I fuck you, honey?” He drawls, his hand rubbing your hip.
You nod, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.
Steve hums under his breath. “Not here though.” His grip on your hips tighten and he lifts you off the counter. “I’ll take you in bed, like a gentleman,” he jokes.
You fall against him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support. You catch a whiff of him, the sharp sting of cigarette smoke and faded notes of cologne, and nuzzle your face deeper into the crook of his neck, placing a kiss there. His chest rumbles with laughter at your affectionate movement.
He carries you down the hall to your room, kicking the door shut behind him. You’re dropped onto the bed unceremoniously, and you might have giggled if Steve wasn’t looking at you like a man starved. He shrugs off the jacket and tosses it somewhere in the dark expanse of the room. His gaze slides over your body, leaving fire in its wake as he pulls off the blue polo shirt you love so much.
Steve grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed and his other hand undoes his belt buckle. You spread your legs slowly, dripping cunt on full display and Steve grunts low in his throat, fingers trailing up your calf slowly.
“You’re still overdressed,” you mumble, reaching out to pull his belt through the loops of his jeans.
He lets you undo his jeans and push them down his hips as far as you can from your position. Then he takes over, kicking them off until he stands in front of you in all his naked glory. You run your fingers along his skin, tanner from days spent under the harsh Colombian sun. They trace over swatches of freckles, down the hard planes of his stomach to his rigid cock.
Steve leans into your touch, hips moving with your hand as you stroke him slowly. His cock, hot and heavy against your palm, twitches at your ministrations, weeping pearly beads of precum with every pass of your hand over his length. He indulges you for a moment, lets you do the work of taking the edge off for him.
He’s a painting of bliss, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, slack jawed and head tilted back in awe of you. Of the way you can scatter the storm clouds of life with just a touch. Can repair the damage of the day with just a kiss.
Eventually, the call of your cunt is too strong for him to ignore anymore, and the desire to be inside you is too much to bear. He knocks your hand away, replacing it with his own as he lines himself up with your entrance.
Your legs part for him easily as he fits himself between them, coating his length with your arousal. The barest hint of the warmth of your cunt. Steve enters you with a hard thrust, one that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll into the back of your head.
You throw your head back into the mattress, fingers curling around his forearm for purchase. “ Steve . Fuck .”
“Feel so fuckin good. Squeezing me like a goddamn vice,” he mutters through gritted teeth. His hand slides up from your hip, fingers wrapping around your throat as he stays still, buried to the hilt inside of you. His eyes dance with mischief, and his fingers squeeze your throat gently, groaning quietly when your walls flutter around him.
You lift your hips slightly, begging for mercy in the form of some movement, even just a shallow thrust.
Steve tsks, his free hand pressing against your hip, holding you down as he revels in the way your cunt wantonly squeezes his cock. “Be a good girl and stay still for me. Just wanna feel you.”
You whine at his words, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you will yourself into submission. It’s not easy, not when he’s filling you so well, and your brain is on a fuzzy high from the lack of oxygen.
“Want me to move?” He asks some moments later, the fingers on your hip dancing across your skin to rest on your clit. He brushes his thumb over the bundle of nerves, and you choke out an affirmative moan. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you?” He whispers against your jaw, relaxing his grip on your throat.
You nod, sucking down the rush of unrestricted air, and he smacks the outside of your thigh harshly. You jump, causing his cock to drag along your inner walls slightly. Your back arches into his touch, and a cry works its way out of your throat.
“Use your words.” Steve bites down on your fluttering pulse, hips grinding down against yours slightly.
“‘ P-Please, Steve ,’ what?” He mocks you, his tongue darting out to soothe the smarting impression of his teeth on your heated skin.
“Please, fuck me.”
“Well shit, honey,” Steve says, lips curled up into a wicked smile. “All you had to do was ask.”
He pulls out slowly, letting you feel every ridge, every inch of his cock, before slamming back into you. He does it again, and again , his thrusts pushing you up the bed, making you curl your fingers into the blankets as he pounds into you like a wrecking ball.
His hand is back on your throat again, squeezing gently as his hips drive into you, punching strangled cries from your throat. Steve’s own wrecked grunts sound in your ear, deep and gravely. Your noises and his mixing together like a jagged symphony.
“Takin me so well,” he grits out, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. “Feel like fuckin heaven.”
Steve’s thrusts grow faster, his rhythm more erratic as the familiar ball in his stomach tightens. “Go ahead and rub that little clit for me, honey,” he whispers. “Make yourself come.” He grips your hips tightly, and it’s all he can do to hold off and make sure you finish first.
You reach between your sweaty bodies, rubbing at your clit sloppily. “Almost,” you whine.
“I know, pretty girl,” Steve mumbles, falting when your walls clench around his cock. “ Christ .” He sinks his teeth into that one spot on your neck that made your knees weak.
“ Yeah, yeah, y-yeah ,” you babble, thighs shaking as they go taut. “Just like that, Steve, please I’m gonna come.”
Your fingers circle your clit, once, twice, three times , and it’s all over in a shudder. You cling to Steve, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your orgasm rams into you like a truck, disorienting and disarming you. His name is a shrieked mantra on your tongue, the only sounds your brain seems to be capable of forming.
Steve can only give a few more thrusts before he buries himself deep inside of you, coming with an almost animalistic cry of your name. He drops his head down on your chest, hips moving shallowly as his cum paints your walls.
The room is still for a while. Neither of you make a move to disturb the peace that settles over you, even after your breathing has returned to normal. You just enjoy the unhurried, post-coital haze. A rare moment of tranquility carved out against the violent background of Pablo Escobar’s war.
You run your fingers through Steve’s hair, twisting the damp strands around your fingers and Steve groans, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.
“You wanna talk about it now?” You ask, scratching the back of his neck.
Steve raises his head, a sated smile on his face. “Dunno. Seems kinda stupid now.”
“Nothing’s stupid to me,” you assure him, lips searching for his own.
He kisses your lips chastely, then your nose, and your forehead. “Let’s just lay here a little while longer, yeah?” he says, unwilling to return to the real world so soon.
“Okay,” you mumble, running your fingers through his hair again as he rests his head back on your chest with a relaxed sigh.