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I Want to See Your Etchings

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Bernadette Rosenthal could be a patient woman. Patient, understanding, even tolerant. She was dating a superhero, after all--it wasn't like Steve gave her much choice. But this was just too much. There came a time, she believed, when even the Sentinel of Liberty had to pull off the cowl, set aside the shield, and let the world outside take care of itself for a while. He had domestic duties to see to. Domestic duties he'd failed to perform for a full month, and that? That was a very long time for a woman like Bernie.

She felt neglected. Steve tried, of course he did. It wasn't like he deliberately ignored her. But even he could only try so hard when the calls kept coming in, when the city's supervillain du jour planned a hostile takeover the same night Bernie put on her new lingerie.

But not tonight. Absolutely nothing would interfere with her night this time.

While Steve was in the kitchen, washing dishes and humming along to the record playing in the living room, Bernie took her glass of wine with her on her search. She started at his drafting table. Careful to touch only what she had to, and to put it back where she found it once she did, she began her search for his Avengers communicator. She knew he left it within reach. It wasn't at his drafting table, or beside the chair in the living room, or near the window seat where he'd left his book overturned to save his place. By the time the record ran out and she'd finished her drink, she was ready to give up on stealth.

She shut off the stereo on her way toward the kitchen. "Steve? Where's your communicator?"

The water in the kitchen went off and Steve poked his head out of the doorway, his brow furrowed. "I didn't hear anything."

"It didn't go off."

"Oh." He came out of the kitchen then, drying his hands on a checked dish towel. "What's wrong?"

Bernie leveled a look at him.

Frowning a little, Steve jerked his head toward the dining nook and said, "It's on the buffet."

"Thank you."

It was, indeed, right there out in plain sight. Bernie slid it off the buffet and inspected it carefully, impressed as always by how well he took even identification photos. Steve had followed her from the kitchen; she could feel his curiosity. It wasn't often she asked about this little nuisance. In fact, it was never. He probably wondered why her sudden interest.

Bernie snapped it cleanly in half.

"Hey!" Steve grabbed for the two pieces before they could fall. "What--"

She set down her empty wine glass and turned to Steve. He seemed especially adorable when confused and a little ruffled, and she liked that.

"Do you know," she began, "how long it has been since we made love?"

Steve had the remarkable grace to look sheepish. "Over a month."

"You do know! And you haven't done anything? Steve, do you know what that long feels like for a woman like me?"

"I'm sorry," he said, and to his credit he at least seemed to mean it.

"Just not sorry enough to take any initiative."

"Bernie--" He looked helplessly down at the broken communicator. "I am sorry."

"Saying you're sorry isn't good enough, darling," she said, shaking her head. She started backing toward the bedroom. "You're going to have to prove you're sorry."

Understanding flared in his eyes. "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?"

Bernie just smiled at him.

Steve tossed the broken communicator toward the trash bin in the corner and followed her to the bedroom.

He might have been good at giving orders to his team, but here, he did his best work when he took them. And Bernie had every intention of giving all the orders tonight.

She waited for him halfway between the doorway and the bed and when he was close enough, she pushed her hands under the edge of his sweater and pushed until he took the hint and yanked it over his head. She tucked her fingers into the loops of his pants while he was taking off the sweater and turned him around. He dropped the sweater. She planted her hands in the center of his chest and shoved.

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed.

Bernie hiked up her skirt past her knees. She liked the new darkness in his eyes when she flashed him bare thigh, and she liked even more his big warm hands sliding up her thighs when she climbed onto his lap. She settled her hips against his and slid her arms over his shoulders and tangled her fingers in his hair. She smirked at him.

"Well, Captain, I'm not going to undress myself."

Steve grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

He was still grinning when she kissed him.

Steve wrapped an arm around her back and slid his other hand up, up, over her flank and her hip and her side. His lips were warm but the soft wet insides of his mouth were warmer, and Bernie lingered there as he opened the buttons of her blouse one at a time. She shuddered and pushed closer, her tongue sliding along his, the ridge of his erection rising against her inner thigh. Steve tugged her shirt out of her skirt. He ran his palms up her sides, up, until he could curve his hands over her breasts.

Bernie sighed into his mouth. "Tonight," she told him quietly, "we are going to take it very, very slow and I am going to enjoy every second of it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And if some crazy man tries to destroy the city I will kill him myself."

Laughing, Steve kissed the point of her chin, then pressed his face between her breasts. "That sounds good to me."

With another happy sigh, she rested her cheek on the top of his head and stroked her fingers through the soft short hair at the back of his head.

Steve made his own small happy sound. He rubbed his palms over the tips of her breasts until her nipples were hard through the lace of her bra, and he peppered kisses across the soft tops, along the edge of the cups. When she sighed long and low and dug her nails into his scalp, he peeled off her shirt and opened her bra. Steve rubbed his cheek against her nipple while he tossed her bra toward the lamp, and she laughed.

Steve smiled.

She held his head as he licked and nibbled his way over each breast, warming up until he sucked her nipples into his mouth, one at a time, teasing with his tongue, drawing her closer. Bernie dropped her head back and closed her eyes. She rubbed at the back of his head, his neck, the tops of his shoulders, and when she moaned quietly at one particular scrape of teeth over pebbled skin, she felt his smug smile.

Well. He'd earned it, she supposed.

Steve's arm around her back crushed her closer. He dropped a hand to slip it under her skirt, to walk his fingers up her inner thigh. Bernie's breath caught. Steve rubbed the backs of his fingers against her, where she was damp through lace, and they moaned together.

"That's it," she murmured.

He nipped the side of her breast. "Thought you'd like it."

He rocked his fingers against her, a light shifting pressure that had her shifting her hips closer to him, chasing the feeling.

Bernie tugged at his hair. Steve took the hint and tipped his head back.

"The mouth on you. You know what you can do with it?"

She kissed him while he smiled.

"Yes, ma'am."

Steve hauled her closer and cupped her ass with both hands and stood up. Bernie squealed, surprised, tightening her arms and legs around him. Steve just grinned at her.

"Show off." She pulled at his hair again.

"I'm just trying to impress you." He turned around and knelt up on the bed.

Bernie kissed his cheek. "My hero."

He laughed at that.

He laid her down with her head on the pillows and he kissed her lightly, her lips and her cheek and the side of her neck. With another happy sigh--and a gentle scrape of her nails across his shoulders--Bernie settled back. Yes, this. This was exactly what she wanted. Her fingers in Steve's hair as he worked his way down, his deft fingers warm as he unwrapped her skirt and slid her panties down her legs.

Steve sat back on his heels in the center of the bed, between her spread legs, and when Bernie looked up, he was looking at her. Just looking. His fingers rested lightly on the outsides of her knees and his eyes moved up her thighs, over the center of her where she was open and wet, followed the curve of her hip into the dip of her waist. She reached for one of his hands.

"Want a camera?"

His grin was quick. He let her pull him down, fell to press his hips to hers and cage her body with his arms. "I've got sketchbooks full of you, Bernie, I don't need photographs." He kissed her, hot and deep, and before she could say anything else, he was sliding down, down, and licking at her.

Bernie pushed her fingers through his hair and held him in place. His hands pressed her thighs to his head. He was so good at this part, at treating her--at treating this--like it was something he wanted. Eyes closed, head back, she let him lick and suck and press and kiss, and when she'd had enough, she held him in place and rocked her hips until she was right on the edge.

He backed off, kissing along the insides of her thighs, long enough for something about sketches to wander through Bernie's brain. Then he slid two fingers inside her and curved them up, and he sealed his lips around her clitoris and began to suck gently, and she forgot about sketches and supervillains and everything that wasn't Steve and yes and good for a while.

She melted back into the bed. Her eyelids felt as heavy as her arms did, but she at least had the energy to smile. Steve kissed over her hip as he withdrew his fingers. She looked--she had to look. Because she hadn't even had to train him to do the next trick. He gave her a wicked grin and sucked his fingers into his mouth, cleaned them with his tongue, messy and noisy. She laughed at him and found the strength to wrap her arms around him and pull him up so she could kiss him.

The solid warm weight of him pressed her down and she realized that he'd undressed her, but he was still in his undershirt and trousers.

She pushed her fingers into the neck of his undershirt. "Someone's wearing too many clothes."

He nipped her bottom lip. "Want to help?"

Bernie heaved a put-upon sigh. "I guess." She dragged her nails down his back and stuck her hands into the waist of his jeans to get a handful of his ass.

And, right, grip the hem of his shirt.

Steve laughed.

Bernie pulled his shirt over his head, and while he was unbalanced, she pushed him over onto his back. Steve obligingly put his legs together and Bernie reached for the buttons of his jeans. She paused to look up. He'd tucked his hands under his head and he was smiling down at her.

"I'm not doing all the work," she said.

Steve's grin widened. "I'm just enjoying the view."

Shaking her head, she opened the buttons of his jeans. He lifted his hips so she could peel them down his legs, and his erection was free, bobbing before slapping gently against his stomach. Bernie kicked his pants off the bed and ran her hands up his legs, ankle to thigh. She leaned over his lap just because she could and blew a stream of warm breath over his balls.

Steve sucked in a quick breath. "Tease."

"You deserve it." She wrapped one hand around his erection and gave him a few languid strokes, dipping to flick her tongue up the seam of his balls.

He gasped again. "Bernie..."

"Hmm?"

He reached down. He tucked his hands under her arms and pulled her up, up, until she was straddling his hips. He rolled them up, brushing the length of his dick along the damp lips of her cunt, teasing both of them.

She rocked against him for a few long heartbeats, riding the motion of his hips and the length of his erection. Idly, as she ran a hand over his chest, she thought she could get off just like this. They both could. She imagined it, the spill of him over his own stomach, and when she shifted her hips a little too far and he rocked up, pushing into her, she filed it away for another time.

This time, this was important.

Bernie closed her eyes. Steve ran his hands up her thighs to grip her hips, and they stayed like that, joined but unmoving, for as long as it took Bernie to memorize the feel of it, of him inside her and his eyes on her and his hands holding her.

Then Steve started to move her.

She let him lead for a while. She braced herself with her hands on his chest and let him guide her hips in a slow figure eight. It was too good--she wanted to watch him, loved to see when his eyes went dark and glassy and when his mouth fell open and when his lips were wet and shiny, but she couldn't. Eyes closed, all she could do was feel.

Steve slid a hand from her hip straight in, splayed fingers low on her belly and tucked his thumb right into the top of her folds. He rubbed circles around her clit, careful not to actually touch it, slow enough to match the shift of her hips.

Bernie laughed on a moan. "Dirty play."

His hand on her hip tightened. "Just the way you like it." He spread his knees wider and planted his feet in the bed, shoving his hips up. "Ready for more?"

She tipped forward. Her hands went to the pillows on either side of his head, and he took the hint, lifting up just enough to lip at her breasts, to suck at her nipples.

Oh, but it felt good to be over him like this, to have him pinned to the bed and all to herself, his fingers and his cock and his mouth all at once. Bernie felt like she was burning up, like her body just wasn't big enough for all the pleasure and it would burst out of her.

Steve shoved in deep and held.

She gasped. "Steve."

He licked along the side of her breast. "Faster?" He sounded as out of breath as she felt.

"Yes. Yes."

Steve slipped his hand down to her flank. His fingers dug in.

Bernie held on. She fisted her hands in the pillows and her mouth fell open. Steve fucked like he meant it, driving hard into her so she bounced. His thumb on her clit never let up, his mouth strayed only to her neck, up to her ear.

It was the hot pants of breath against her ear that tipped her over the edge.

She went limp and melted over him.

Steve caught her, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her close. But he didn't pull out. He just rolled them over, pressed her down with the full weight of him. He ran his hand down her side, all the way to her knee, and gripped her there.

Bernie stretched beneath him. Her vision was still a little swimmy, so she closed her eyes. She'd seen enough to catch the grin curving his lips, though. Steve bit the side of her neck and hooked her knee over his shoulder, and if she hadn't been done for before, she was well past gone when he threw himself into it again, pounding so hard the bed shook, the headboard banged the wall.

It was bliss. Her teeth rattled. Steve sneaked a quick grope of her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers before he pinched it hard, and his hand kept up, up, until he could wrap her hair around his hand and yank her head back. He covered her mouth with his, licked in past her lips to steal her breath and taste her. He tasted like her, like both of them, and he swallowed every moan, every groan, she spilled into his mouth.

Steve came, spilling hot inside her, and the knowledge of it was almost as good as the way his muscles seemed to liquefy. Her leg slipped from his shoulder, but not before he gave her ass a hard squeeze that made her laugh. She wrapped her legs around his waist so she wouldn't lose him yet, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders so she could stroke her fingers through his hair. She kissed the height of his cheek and the edge of his jaw.

He turned his face, captured her lips. It was a slow, sweet kiss, nearly chaste. Bernie pulled him closer. She didn't want to let him go. Not any of him.

Steve untangled his fingers from her hair slowly. He kissed the edge of her mouth and her cheek and when he shifted his hips to pull out of her, they both gasped. He was still hard--she loved that. The man had stamina to spare. She wanted him back, sore and weak as she was, and she wasn't afraid to let him know it.

He laughed at her pout. He kissed her forehead. "You're insatiable."

"I think you mean for that to be a bad thing..."

He rolled to his side and pushed her until she was on her side, too, and he was spooned up behind her. With one arm around her waist and the other hand free to stroke over her breasts and stomach, he kissed the back of her shoulder.

"Not at all. It's merely an observation." He linked their fingers and pressed their hands together to her belly.

She sighed. She was sated enough that she could sleep if she really wanted to. "I guess this is nice."

"You guess." He kissed the curve of her neck. "It is nice." He scraped his teeth over her earlobe.

Just to make her shiver, she was sure. She wriggled against him, rubbed her rear end against his erection, and she gave an exaggerated yawn. "Do something interesting or I might fall asleep."

Steve took his fingers from hers. He ran his hand over her belly and over the front of her hip. "Interesting?" He hooked two fingers into her wet cunt and rubbed the heel of his palm against her clitoris.

Bernie gasped.

He kissed behind her ear. "Is this interesting enough?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe," he mocked. He took his hand away and ran his wet fingers down her thigh. He gripped her knee and lifted it up and back, tucked her leg over his, and he shifted his hips. "How about this?" He slid into her.

Bernie laughed. She rested her head back against his shoulder and when his hand slid up to cup her breast, she laid her hand over his. "Getting there."

"Getting there," he mumbled. He started rocking his hips, giving her long slow thrusts, rubbing the beautiful head of his cock right over the place inside her that made her shudder. "The mouth on you, Ms. Rosenthal."

She laughed again. Steve nibbled at her neck and the curve of her shoulder, and it was such a lazy ride, she closed her eyes and her mind wandered some, to the sound of his voice and his words and--

"Sketchbooks full?"

Steve laughed. His hips jerked with it. "Yes." He nuzzled behind her ear. "Don't worry. They're all hidden. My eyes only."

She rocked her hips, arching her back and granting him deeper access. She lifted his hand from her breast so she could kiss his fingers. "Do you keep them in the dresser with your Playboys?"

"Shoebox under the bed." He licked the shell of her ear. "I expected better snooping out of you."

"Excuse me. I'm usually too occupied with this--" She sucked two of his fingers into her mouth and licked between them, wet and messy and noisy.

"This?" Steve retaliated, the hand splayed low on her belly pulling her back and his hips snapping forward so he could grind in deep. The tip of a finger brushed over her clit.

She moaned his name.

He smiled against her neck, ran his lips up to her ear. "Want to see them?"

"See what?" Her brain had taken vacation. The feel of him filling her up, bumping right where she liked him, teasing where she liked him best, had sent it away.

"My etchings."

Bernie laughed. She laughed, and she came while she laughed, and she felt him, too, sliding in deep and finishing, and she couldn't stop laughing.

Steve shifted his hips, pulling out of her and sliding back just enough so she could roll over and face him. He propped his head in his hand and smiled at her. Oh, she liked that smile. He ran his hand from her hip up, circled the tip of one finger around her still-peaked nipple.

"Proud of yourself?"

He leaned in to kiss her. "I've never made you laugh and come at the same time," he murmured into her mouth.

She pushed her fingers through his hair and pulled him into another kiss. "There's a first time for everything."

He chuckled. "You're beautiful, Bernie." He kissed her again. "You make for beautiful pictures."

"But are they dirty?" She scratched at his scalp. "I only want to see them if they're dirty."

He smiled at her. "I don't think you'll be disappointed."

She leaned in again to kiss him one more time. "Show them to me right now."

"Yes, ma'am."

He leaned over her, pressing her flat so he could hang off the side of the bed and pull an old cardboard boot box from under it. He brought it up and settled it on the edge, opened it up and pulled out the sketchbooks. Bernie shoved up on her elbows. Steve pulled two books out of the box, but there were at least two more still inside it. She was definitely curious now. And maybe a little turned on again. Her cheeks pinked. How many dirty pictures had Steve drawn of her?

Bernie shoved the pillows up so she could lounge against them and took one of the offered sketchbooks. She liked Steve's smile. Like he was sharing a secret he liked. She wanted to kiss him again. She couldn't think of a reason not to, so she did.

"What's that for?" He gave her a bemused smile.

"You're cute, Steve Rogers."

He just chuckled and snuggled close to her. "Just look at my dirty pictures."

Smiling, Bernie did as she was told.

Oh. He hadn't been kidding. She had expected beautiful, skilled drawings, artists' renderings of intimate moments, perhaps even a few racy sketches, and if there was nudity it would be purely tasteful, nothing that would be out of place in the Museum of Modern Art.

There was nothing tasteful about any drawing in the book.

"Wow."

He kissed her shoulder. "See anything you like?"

Laughing, she turned to kiss him. She tossed the sketchbook to the foot of the bed and pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him once more.

"You have been holding back," she accused.

Steve ran his hands up her back. "I didn't want to overwhelm you with my passions," he teased.

"You're a funny man." She kissed him again. "We're going to need accessories for some of your passions."

"We can get them," he said earnestly.

"I know." She framed his face with her hands and brushed her thumbs along his cheeks. He was so eager, meeting her halfway, long sweet kisses, heated kisses. "You'd even shop by yourself, wouldn't you?"

"I'm getting good at disguises." He shifted beneath her. "I have this kit--" He held her hips in his big hands and lifted her just enough to position his hips.

Bernie was still laughing as he pushed into her again.