[Bruce stops because he’s not sure if Steve is going to say something. If he is, he gives him the chance now.]
Do you have something to add, Captain?
[He pauses and curses himself internally because he could fuck this up; he doesn’t know, he’s never done this and Bruce is so experienced. He knows that he can more than live up to his promises and he just… he has to say it.]
[Pulse quickening with every word he said, Bruce lips moved to the man’s clavicle, suckling teasingly at it before moving upward again. His foot brushed against the Captain’s toned calve muscle.]
Once I start, I wouldn’t be able to stop, Captain. [He has to clear his throat and lick his lips because he’s getting almost as wrapped up in this as Steve.] Bringing you close with my fingers and tongue, dragging my nails down your inner thighs, spreading you wider until you couldn’t possibly take it anymore—but even then, you’d be begging for more, wouldn’t you? Of course you would.
[His eyes close, his teeth bite against his bottom lip; his stomach curls. His head moving up to allow Bruce more room whilst his mouth lets slip a gentle whimper a the latest promise. His hands begin to have to curl into fists, fingers coming in to bite the skin of his palm whilst Steve brings his head back down.
Moving passed Bruce’s lips on his clavicle to lean down to the right hand side of Bruce’s head, gently nuzzling it as he brushes his lips over warm skin and brings one hand across to run through Bruce’s hair and hold it, tightly.
Words are on the tip of his tongue but he can’t express them,]
“There is nothing, /absolutely nothing/, in this world hotter than Steve Rogers in his army uniform. Except maybe the leather jacket and helmet.”
[Bruce knows if he pulls away to look at Steve, the man’s probably redder than a lobster, so he just continues, kissing at Steve’s jaw now.]
You, on your back, on that big bed. They’re the softest sheets; Egyptian cotton. They’re an off-white color that would look perfect around your skin as you move on them, as my hands move over you, every inch of you, as you writhe and moan. You’re definitely a screamer when provoked.
[Don’t go there, don’t think about it; his head warns in a useless mantra that hardly helps with the blushing or with the thoughts. Steve can’t help but turn his head away and bite his lip, thinking about what Bruce was saying; he can see it in front of his eyes and the movement of those, surprisingly, gentle lips on his jaw line doesn’t help.
There’s another, half, problem occurring now; spurred by the words and Steve has to, desperately not think about what Bruce was saying or think in general; knowing it would get worse.
But he, still, doesn’t want Bruce to shut up.]
“Steve, people will always need you. They need Captain America.”
“That isn’t me.” He moved immediately when Steve started to get up. “Hey, no- you need to rest.”
"I have rested for the past few days, I need to walk."
"How many missions have you been on since I’ve been out of commission?"
[He’s a little surprised that Steve actually wants it, but he complies, kissing down the man’s neck and at the soft spot beneath the shell of his ear before speaking.]
I could tell you one of my favorite fantasies first, get that out of the way… You looked pretty trussed up the night we first met. I have a big bed—bigger than a California King, really—and all I wanted [He kisses the shell of his ear again] was to spread you out on it and just take you.
[He’s sure that he’s redder than some lipsticks he sees women wearing; the soft voice to his ear, so damn close and so damn warm against his skin.
He doesn’t look at Bruce, watching a point just behind Bruce’s ear as he swallows against a newly forming lump in his throat. His entire body freezing and he locks his elbows in place to stop him from falling. It doesn’t stop the way his breath hitches, audibly or the way his chest expands as he listens.
He just can’t say a word; his throat is stuck.]
Post limit forced me onto my old account;
God it’s dusty here.
[Bruce has to keep from smirking, fingers now trailing down Steve’s heated cheek, caressing cheekbones and moving down to his lips. This has become far more heated than he intended.]
I could, if you want.
[He couldn’t think as Steve began moving his fingers over his skin, in a feint trace and all Steve can do is feel his breath hitch in his throat; he stares at him. Unable to think or speak and he just stammers.]