I Can’t Make You Love Me
Steve had no illusions about what this was - about what they were doing.
A blow job here, a hand job there, a couple of heated kisses each time one of them managed to save the other in the final seconds of a really bad mission - none of that could be classified as dating… no matter how badly Steve may have wished otherwise.
You see, Sam had rules. If Sam was going to do this, if he was going to join the fight again, if he was going to work closely with Steve and then go home and play closely with Steve - then that’s all it could ever be: playing. Something fun and light. Something with no strings done purely for recreation.
Because the last time Sam allowed himself to really feel and really love, the last time he wrapped himself so far up in another person and gave his heart to them, he’d nearly lost himself when it all came crashing to an end.
So, no, Sam wasn’t going to do that again. They would be good friends and they would enjoy the benefits of their mutual attraction, but there wouldn’t be any flowers. They’d never dance slowly around the room to one of the many songs Sam introduced Steve to. And they’d never end the night with a kiss at the door and a solid plan to see each other again the next Saturday evening.
They would fight together and they would sleep together, and if they each ultimately woke up alone in their own beds wishing things could be different, then so be it. Sam was determined to keep his heart safe and Steve was just as determined to give Sam whatever he needed… even if they did both want more.