Before Steve, you were intimately acquainted with the various ways you could get yourself off. Your could spend a long time enjoying just your fingers, or playing with a new toy. No better way to wind up a long day. After all, a girl has needs, right?
But after Steve, that all seemed rather unnecessary…
Even the best toys felt like a poorly made copy of him. You could get off easy enough when he was gone, but did you really want to? Usually you waited, because something about denying your own release until he was with you made it that much sweeter. But he could be gone on a mission for weeks at a time. You could be patient for a few days, significantly less patient for a week or so. After that, it was a struggle. Sometimes your cravings won out, and sometimes you staved off your own pleasure with fantasies of him. It was always worth it, the way he would crash into you when he returned, both of you so wound up that the first round took only moments. But it was Steve, so it was never just one round.
He’d been gone for sixteen days, not that you’d been counting. Not that you checked your phone compulsively for an update. Not that you were so filled with tension you were about to explode. You poured a glass of wine after work, then two. It had been a long week, and with no expected return date from Steve, you were likely doomed for another. By the time you headed to bed, you’d finished most of the bottle of wine, but you were still feeling agitated. So you planned to relive some old times. Forget about Steve, he’d surely be taking care of himself in the field. You could handle yourself too.
You put on the smallest pair of silk pajamas you own, and didn’t bother diving under the covers yet. Leaned back against the headboard, you revved yourself up nice and slow. Teased your nipples up into stiff peaks, only skimming touches above your shorts. It takes only a few moments for you to get more restless under your the light stimulation, until your eyes closed and your hips rose from the bed, seeking more. When the tension became unbearable, you slid your hand down into your shorts. You caressed the lace of your panties, already feeling your wetness before you’d even gotten to the good part. A few more gentle strokes, and then you slid one finger from the bottom of your crease right to the hood of your clit.
At the sudden assault on your sensitive nerves, you lifted your head and then fell back against the pillows. A familiar scent hit you, just a trace of sweat and soft cotton. The first waves of pleasure were still coursing through your body, but you remembered why this was never your first choice anymore. Desperation flooded you, and you released a moaning sob. “Steve!”
“Hmm?”
The answer immediately startled you upright. Steve leaned against the doorway, steel blue eyes focused in exactly on you. Your eyes drank him in the same way he did you. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he’d already ditched the tac suit for a blue tee and grey sweatpants. Judging by how tight those sweatpants were, he’d been watching long enough to get interested.
You started to sit up, opened your mouth to ask how the hell he’d come in so quietly and why he hadn’t bothered to call first. He’d always been sneaky, but that was downright frustrating. But then you caught the little tilt of his lips, quickly growing into a full blown smirk. when your eyes met. Of course he’d been smug about it, his timing just so perfectly convenient as to walk in the moment you gave over to some baser urges and had just moaned his fucking name. And damn it, that smirk did things to you. So you closed your mouth, teeth biting down against your bottom lip. Arched your back, head down as your hips came up to meet your own touch. You could at least return the favor and drive him crazy before he tore off his clothes and joined you in bed.
“Don’t stop on my account.” Steve’s voice, rough and deep, brought a whimper to your lips. He moved from the doorway to the armchair and took a seat directly across from the bed, in the perfect position to watch your every move. With the small amount of light still seeping in through the windows, you could just barely make out that stupid grin still on his face. You couldn’t decide whether you’d like to smack him or crawl to him. Or both. He leaned forward slowly, elbows on his knees. The angle of the light just hit his jaw line and you used your free hand to clench the sheets in a tight fist. Somehow he reminded you of a predator, and you were the prey; he looked like he wants to eat you alive. His voice got even lower when he spoke again. “By all means, keep going.” You knew that wasn’t meant as a suggestion.
You met his dark eyes again, moved your free hand from the sheets to tangle up in your hair. The hand shoved between your legs had completely stopped moving since he startled you, and you had absolutely no idea what you had been doing before that had felt so good. It still hadn’t felt nearly as good as doing it with him staring at you.
You let one finger wander slowly up, sliding in between your folds. The warm touch pulls another small whimper out. Instead of teasing yourself further, you pull your hand out of your shorts completely. You savor the look on his face, surprise melting into deeper arousal, as you slowly dip your finger into your mouth.
You were instantly rewarded with the noise he made, somewhere between a groan and a growl. You hadn’t even pulled your finger out of your mouth yet before he’d moved forward again. Almost like you’d just cast a spell on him. But he’s still planted firmly in the seat, if inching closer.
“Lose the shorts.”
With practiced ease, you yank them down and off, tossing your panties with them. Only the tank top covered your top half, and it was rising steadily up your stomach. You kept your knees bent, legs spread as wide as you dared. Steve’s eyes were narrowed in our your apex as you fingered yourself again. You circled your clit with your middle finger, feeling overwhelmed with the burning heat. It just kept building, when you dipped one finger inside, sliding smoothly in.
Your free hand was still fisted tight in your tangled hair, pulling almost more than was comfortable. Steve was usually a little rougher than necessary, and this was apparently as close as you’d get to him touching you right now. Your finger dived deep, hitting that certain spot that always brought a a moan from your lips. With another tug against your hair, you edged yourself on further, then dropped your free hand to the edge of your pajama top.
Sweat dripped down your spine when you looked up at him again, the thrust of your hips growing more and more desperate. He’d shifted back slightly, enough to give himself some room to spread his legs. You remembered why grey sweats were probably your favorite thing to see him in. One hand palmed against his pants, where you could just see the outline of his cock. His every movement mirrored yours, matching each thrust of your fingers inside you. You marveled at his willpower, the fact that he still had pants on minutes after you’d lost your own. It was both annoying and overpowering. You wanted him inside you instead of across the room, but somehow him keeping his clothes on after you were nearly naked was even more of a turn on. Steve’s self-control was masterful, and you knew that as much as he was clearly enjoying this, he would tease you relentlessly for hours before he dealt with himself, if that was what he wanted.
You whined wordlessly, feeling the tight heat inside you spiral. Your eyes begged him to just touch you already, but when you added a second finger, his dark gaze meet your eyes again.
“Mm, didn’t say you could do that yet, gorgeous.” You cursed under your breath, wondering just how long he intended to keep this up. “Don’t get greedy.”
“Steeve.” You drew his name out into six breathless syllables. “Baby, please. I was just getting myself ready for you…” You shifted your hips up, hoping the perfect angle would work to lure him in. It didn’t work, which was both agonizing and expected. Something like a sob slipped out again, but he kept toeing the line between being spell struck by you and just being amused. Still with that smirk that drove you wild.
“Yeah,” Steve’s Brooklyn accent always came out heavy in moments like this, enough to make you swoon. “I’m gonna need you to be good and ready for me, gorgeous.”