[ Of the many images burned into Steve’s memory, the unfortunate majority are what one might consider disturbing, if not downright traumatic. This is the rare occasion when he is only too happy to feel an image searing itself into the very grooves of his brain. He won’t forget the way that Daisy's confused expression blooms into surprise, then melts under the heat of her gaze until all that remains is lust, pure and focused.
Steve recognizes the daring glint in her eyes and knows he is doomed. He couldn’t pass up the challenge if he tried and Daisy knows it. That kind of transparency would be a vulnerability in the wrong hands. Hell, it’s a vulnerability in her hands, but he can’t summon the concern he should feel. It’s exhilarating. ]
Maybe. [ He gives her a one-shouldered shrug as he steps into the room, as if he could just leave her to it. They both know better, but where’s the fun in that?
Looks like you were getting along just fine without me. [ He nods toward where the toy lay discarded among the sheets. He isn’t so insecure as to feel jealousy over an inanimate object—after all, it’s his shirt she’s wearing—but that doesn’t mean that he has nothing to prove. And he does intend to prove himself, but first he wants to tease this out past the limits of Daisy’s own self control.
Steve retrieves the armchair in the corner, sets it down at the edge of the bed, and takes a seat. He leans back against the plush cushioning and tries to look relaxed. His new vantage point makes it significantly harder, but he manages not to betray the rush of excitement shooting through his veins. ]
Don’t tell me you’re finished already. [ He doesn’t even try to keep the smirk out of his voice. ]
No, [ breathed out over a laugh as she settles back against the pillows, piled up just so to give her the closest thing to the right angle as possible. it's still not quite exactly what it could be — nothing ever is, no matter how hard she tries to replicate it. nothing is ever quite as right as the weight of him against her body, the heat of his breath against her jaw as he groans her name, the rush of touch and sound and everything else all at once. but she tries, because it's either that or go crazy. ] Not even close.
[ the interruption set her back, anyway. it derailed her fantasy brain, dropped her right off that cliff of pleasure into reality, and though daisy's all too eager to yank him out of that chair and into the bed, she recognizes the challenge he's bouncing back into her court just as well. ]
I never thought you were such a voyeur. [ not a complaint. she considers peeling the shirt off her skin, but there's no denying the way his gaze skims over it, recognition obvious. she'll keep it on for now. ] I might need a little help getting started again, actually.
[ a lift of her brows betrays her intentions. ]
Do you remember when you called me from Paris? All those things you whispered into the phone?
[ tell her again. tell her all the things you've wanted in all the places you've been. if you're going to punish her by not providing them, you'll suffer through thinking of them too. ]
[ Even if the serum hadn't improved his memory recall, Steve would remember every last detail of that conversation. He had called her just a few hours after landing in Paris, an attempt to distract himself from the sour mood that had clouded over him since he arrived in the city. Nostalgia always hit him hard in Europe, where the cultural emphasis on preservation of history kept the ghosts alive for anyone old enough to remember them. Paris had changed, of course, but it also hadn't. The Howling Commandos' preferred bar in town was now a refurbished, upscale restaurant, but the outer facade had barely been touched. Steve had been on the lookout for it once he was oriented enough to more or less recognize the streets, but it still knocked the air out of him to see it there, a relic of the past that was hollowed out to suit the needs of the modern world. A little too on the nose, really.
He was in need of distraction when he called Daisy, but he hadn't meant for the conversation to get so filthy. It started with Daisy asking him how Paris was and him naively answering that he'd rather be wherever she was. Naturally, she asked what he would be doing if they were together, and the conversation quickly escalated from there. ]
I remember. You sent me a selfie from the Capitol rotunda. You were wearing that blazer with the neckline that I still can't believe they allowed in a televised congressional hearing.
[ That one selfie had, without exaggeration, turned Steve's entire mood around. Memories of Paris in wartime were pushed out of his mind to make room for vivid daydreams about what he would have done if only he were close enough to barge into that hearing and steal Daisy away. ]
If memory serves, I said I wanted to pull you between the stacks of the library of congress and slip my hand between the lapels of that jacket. Find out for myself whether you were really wearing a shirt underneath.
[ It was easier to keep a steady voice when he did this over the phone, with only his imagination for supplemental imagery. He isn't quite sure how he managed to string together full sentences when Daisy is lying spread out before him, nothing but his own self control keeping him in his seat. His resolve won't last very long, but he's determined to drag this out until he has Daisy where he wants her: trembling with desperation and begging for his touch. ]
I would've had to cover your mouth to keep you quiet while I sucked a few marks into your neck. Then I'd send you back into that hearing so those decrepit senators who couldn't keep their eyes off you would get my message loud and clear.
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Steve recognizes the daring glint in her eyes and knows he is doomed. He couldn’t pass up the challenge if he tried and Daisy knows it. That kind of transparency would be a vulnerability in the wrong hands. Hell, it’s a vulnerability in her hands, but he can’t summon the concern he should feel. It’s exhilarating. ]
Maybe. [ He gives her a one-shouldered shrug as he steps into the room, as if he could just leave her to it. They both know better, but where’s the fun in that?
Looks like you were getting along just fine without me. [ He nods toward where the toy lay discarded among the sheets. He isn’t so insecure as to feel jealousy over an inanimate object—after all, it’s his shirt she’s wearing—but that doesn’t mean that he has nothing to prove. And he does intend to prove himself, but first he wants to tease this out past the limits of Daisy’s own self control.
Steve retrieves the armchair in the corner, sets it down at the edge of the bed, and takes a seat. He leans back against the plush cushioning and tries to look relaxed. His new vantage point makes it significantly harder, but he manages not to betray the rush of excitement shooting through his veins. ]
Don’t tell me you’re finished already. [ He doesn’t even try to keep the smirk out of his voice. ]
no subject
[ the interruption set her back, anyway. it derailed her fantasy brain, dropped her right off that cliff of pleasure into reality, and though daisy's all too eager to yank him out of that chair and into the bed, she recognizes the challenge he's bouncing back into her court just as well. ]
I never thought you were such a voyeur. [ not a complaint. she considers peeling the shirt off her skin, but there's no denying the way his gaze skims over it, recognition obvious. she'll keep it on for now. ] I might need a little help getting started again, actually.
[ a lift of her brows betrays her intentions. ]
Do you remember when you called me from Paris? All those things you whispered into the phone?
[ tell her again. tell her all the things you've wanted in all the places you've been. if you're going to punish her by not providing them, you'll suffer through thinking of them too. ]
no subject
He was in need of distraction when he called Daisy, but he hadn't meant for the conversation to get so filthy. It started with Daisy asking him how Paris was and him naively answering that he'd rather be wherever she was. Naturally, she asked what he would be doing if they were together, and the conversation quickly escalated from there. ]
I remember. You sent me a selfie from the Capitol rotunda. You were wearing that blazer with the neckline that I still can't believe they allowed in a televised congressional hearing.
[ That one selfie had, without exaggeration, turned Steve's entire mood around. Memories of Paris in wartime were pushed out of his mind to make room for vivid daydreams about what he would have done if only he were close enough to barge into that hearing and steal Daisy away. ]
If memory serves, I said I wanted to pull you between the stacks of the library of congress and slip my hand between the lapels of that jacket. Find out for myself whether you were really wearing a shirt underneath.
[ It was easier to keep a steady voice when he did this over the phone, with only his imagination for supplemental imagery. He isn't quite sure how he managed to string together full sentences when Daisy is lying spread out before him, nothing but his own self control keeping him in his seat. His resolve won't last very long, but he's determined to drag this out until he has Daisy where he wants her: trembling with desperation and begging for his touch. ]
I would've had to cover your mouth to keep you quiet while I sucked a few marks into your neck. Then I'd send you back into that hearing so those decrepit senators who couldn't keep their eyes off you would get my message loud and clear.