Modern Lee Bodecker And A Baker!hobbyist Reader. (Reader Doesnt Own A Bakery But She Likes Baking And

Modern Lee Bodecker and a baker!hobbyist reader. (Reader doesn’t own a bakery but she likes baking and Lee likes eating :3 )

Sweet Thang

+18 ONLY

Word Count : 363

Warnings : tooth aching fluff

Notes : Thank you for sending this in! Much love ❤️

________________

As soon as Lee stepped into her house, he was greeted to the pleasant smell of baked goods. He inhaled deeply, the mixture of her scent and sweets making his mouth water. A smile instantly spread on his face and the stress from work began to dissolve.

“I’m here,” he called out, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coatrack.

“Perfect timing,” he heard her voice sing from the kitchen, a sweet melody to his ears.

As he rounded the corner and came into the kitchen, Y/N was pulling out a tray of muffins. She spun around at the sound of his heavy footsteps, a smile wide on her face. Her oven mitts dwarfed her hands as she held onto the hot metal tray.

“Look what I made,” she she held out her latest creation proudly.

Lee strolled over and took in a deep whiff, the scent of lemon and blueberries wafting into his nose. He hummed in delight and he grinned.

“You plan on sharin’ those?” His blue eyes flashed to her, sparkling eagerly.

Her smile widened, if somehow possible, “They’re actually for you, so yes.”

He smile fell lopsided and he leaned around the tray and kissed her cheek, “You spoil me.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed under his tender stare. She stepped away from him only to place the tray of muffins on top of the oven to cool. She turned back to face him as she pulled off her mitts.

“Only doin’ what you deserve, my love,” she said sweetly.

“‘My love’,” he repeated and cocked a new smile, “I like that.”

Her brows perked, “Yeah? Wanted to try it out… Just like this new recipe,” she waved back to the muffins.

Lee chuckled, “Well, I doubt they’ll be as sweet as you,” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“I don’t know, they’re pretty sweet,” she giggled, resting her hands on his chest.

“We’ll see,” he smirked and leaned down, pressing his lips against hers.

She hummed against him and he pulled away too soon. She almost pouted.

Lee pursed his lips, “I don’t know. It’s gonna take a lot to beat your kisses.”

the bad stuff never stops happening (part two)

TBSNSH summary: You don’t want to be alone anymore. Not when Sy lives in the same house as you.

Part Two summary: Sy goes to his first therapy session.

Words: 3.5k

Tags: Angst, Military-Centered PTSD, martial issues, communication issues, swearing, nothing resolved until part 3

Notes: I’ll work on tagging people soon, but I’m not sure if people want to be tagged or if that’s just for ETS. Anyway, this is a sad part of this ‘verse, and when I get around to writing Part 3, it’ll be a lot happier. Sorta sappy, actually. But if angst isn’t your thing, stay away! Thanks for reading! I’m also now on ao3 at dontchutranslatethat where you can read the stuff I put on here, too!

Part One Here

“The bad stuff never stops happening: it lives in its own dimension, repaying itself over and over.” –Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried

On the old, dingy wall beside you, an old, dingy clock ticks exactly in time with your husband’s quickly jittering foot atop the dingy tiled floor. On the wall directly in front of you hangs a large, circular emblem with an eagle and an American flag depicted on it, and underneath that sits the sole other person in this waiting room: an elderly man wearing a black cap adorned with yellow letters that spell out “KOREA VETERAN”. You’re at the VA hospital with Sy.

It’s only the second time you’ve even been here, and it’s definitely the first time you’ve been in this part of the building whatsoever. Today’s Sy’s first therapy appointment. He’s going to see a therapist.

Therapist. 

Sy’s going to see a therapist, and he’s refused to even say the word. Therapist, counselor, seeking help. Anything related to weakness, he’s left out of his vocabulary.

Keep reading

Give In Masterlist

Summery : She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting.

Read Here

one-shots / drabbles

Simple Jealousy

Skimpy

Thanksgiving

Friday

FAQ

Coming soon…

Hey babes💕

Can u please write a sequel to "To give you what you need" where she gets pregnant. I really wanna know what would Steve do!

Hiya, luv!!💝

Oh lord yes, here it comes!!

Keeping you

Pairing: Soft!Dark! Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: non-con, dub-con, pregnancy anxiety, forced pregnancy, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral (female recieving), vaginal sex, mild violence, lots of crying. 

Summary: After Steve’s meticulous work and your lack of choice, you're pregnant. His reaction has you finding yourself in a whole new predicament. 

Note: This is the third installment following Taking what he wants and To give you what you need. These have all been quick scribbles without much editing, so please forgive any jarring character changes, kink swaps and general plot holes. Not beta-read either, so I'm living on the edge here.

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to engage if the content of the warnings trigger you.

My work is not to be distributed outside this blog.

It felt like your stomach dropped clean out of your body and through the floor. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears like a raging river during spring floods. 

On the bathroom counter in front of you, the test was mocking you. 

Positive. 

“Oh god,” you whispered to yourself. You’d just sat there crying for about an hour, miserably holding your own shoulders in an attempt at self-soothing that seemed to have no effect. 

You’d been suspicious for a few days now, carrying the sneaking, gnawing feeling that something was different inside you. But you were hardly surprised. Barely two days had gone by between Steve’s visits after he’d caught you taking Plan B. You wondered how in the hell he had the time and resources to hound you so insistently.

It had always been inevitable, of course. Since that first night, you had been completely at Steve’s mercy, and now you could feel the bonds of his control tightening, making it hard to breathe. 

Pregnant. Fucking hell. You didn’t even know what he did for a living. He’d told you once he was a secret agent, whatever that entailed. Like James Bond? CIA? KGB? Was he a good guy? Who the fuck knew, it certainly didn’t feel like it. He felt like a dangerous, reckless maniac. And now his child was growing inside you? Like a parasite. You could barely support yourself. 

You took a deep, fortifying breath. 

No, you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. There was no way. You needed to find a way out of this, whatever it was, this thing with Steve had gone too far. 

You took your phone out with shaking fingers and typed in a search for the nearest abortion clinic. Next state over, 14 hours drive. Fine. You had the day off tomorrow anyway, and it wasn't like anyone ever noticed you at the yarn store anyway. 

Getting a small bag packed in a matter of minutes, heart in your throat, you threw the test inside - in case you needed to check on the way and make sure you didn’t imagine things. Adrenaline pumped painfully in your chest as you slipped out into the night and got into your car. You looked over your shoulder all the while, paranoid Steve might lurk in any shadow. You got out of your driveway and took the highway heading south. Steve had been there the night before, so it was early for him to return, but you had learned the hard way never to assume anything about his behavioral patterns. 

“Oh god, your mouth,” he’d sighed, stroking your hair softly as you took him in, the weight of him on your tongue anchoring you as his scent made you light headed. Everything was so wet, your pussy pulsing as he slid into your throat, a breathy moan on his lips. 

You nearly reared into another vehicle. “Shit,” you exclaimed, and clung to the steering wheel as the thoughts whirled around in your head. 

You’d driven for about an hour when the road cleared, and you were all alone, surrounded by thick forest. Glancing at the clock, it read 01:03 am, and you stifled a yawn. There was still a long way to go. Outside the street lights passing by shone a warm, yellow hue, and glancing up you saw the stars shining bright in the night sky. 

Glancing back to the road, your eyes nearly popped out of your head. Ahead, a figure stood in the middle of the road, and you stomped the breaks hard. The wheels screeched. Your stomach surging, the car ground to a full stop and you slammed back into your seat with a grunt, knocking the wind out of you. Panting, you looked up. 

It was him. 

Instant tears pricked your eyes and you felt faint with the sudden horror of the situation. He’d found you. How were you going to explain this?

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. 

You sat still, not really able to move, stiff with fear. He slowly moved forward, almost tauntingly as he walked up to the car. 

Don’t run, he’ll know for sure then that you’re hiding something. 

But your fear won out, and your mind went blank as you tore your seatbelt off, ripped the door open and bolted off the road, running into the ditch on the side and through the bush, into the treeline. Your sweater snagged on a branch, and you stumbled over a stump, feeling drunk as you stumbled through the night, not seeing a goddamned thing. You just needed to get away, die falling off a cliff if necessary. 

It was futile, of course. Deep down you knew it was all futile, you were never going to escape. 

Sure enough, Steve caught up to you, grabbing your arm in a steel grip. He spun you around and pulled you tight to him, his other arm wrapping around your waist to secure you to him. 

You shut your eyes, a whimper escaping your clamped shut mouth, mind whirling as you started to prepare for your punishment. This will hurt, you thought miserably to yourself, preparing for it the best you could, trying to cool your frantic breathing. 

But nothing happened. Above you, you heard the wind rustling the trees softly. You noticed how cold it was, shivering with it now, and Steve was breathing so soundlessly, he might as well be made of stone. 

You cracked an eye open and looked up at him. His eyes were steady on your face, his lips in a neutral line. He didn’t look angry, he didn’t even look upset. He looked…guarded, thoughtful. 

You opened your other eye, studying him closer for any trace of emotion, opening your mouth to say something, finding you had nothing to say. You stuttered, blinked, frowned, dumbfounded by his lack of reaction.

“You’re coming with me,” he said then, his voice brooking no argument, his look steely. He turned and started to tug you along by the arm, back the way you came. But you didn’t go back to your car, just walked straight past it on the still empty highway, and then into the treeline on the opposite side. 

“M-my car,” you started

“I’ll come back for it later,” he cut you off, not even looking down at you.

Coming up through a clearing, tumbling awkwardly behind Steve’s confident walk, your eyes landed on what looked like a private jet, just sitting there, in the woods. A moment later, you realized Steve was walking straight up to it, and confusion scrambled your mind. Did he own this? Where was he taking you?  Who the hell was this man? 

§

The jet jolted as it touched whatever landing spot you’d come upon. This was kidnapping. No one would find you now. Not that anyone would come looking. You had no family left and your social life was practically none existent. Except for Steve’s visits, ironically enough - which was probably why he’d kept you through these last months. No one to tell, no one to miss you. 

Steve walked intently to the back of the jet where you sat, unstrapped you from the intricate safety straps and hauled you firmly, though more gently than you’d expected, to your feet. The jet plane opened at the back, a flash of wind making you squint painfully before you saw the house in front of you. 

Well, not house, mansion. With a distinct cabin-like aesthetic, but there was no mistaking that this was the home of someone powerful and wealthy - even in the dark of night. Your jaw fell slack as you took it all in. There was a small pathway dotted by spot lights leading from the landing patch, through an elaborate, though wild garden trimmed with lanterns and into the huge, three story building cluttered with tall windows. Your apartment looked like a broom cupboard compared to this, and you almost felt embarrassed over it if this was where Steve lived. 

The inside continued the lavish display. Huge, expensive looking furniture, walls lined with art depicting urban New York-esque motifs and row upon row of diplomas and awards, medals and honorary memorabilia. No pictures of family, nor any clutter. Every surface was shining and spotless, not even a carelessly strewn magazine or a lone standing coffee cup to be seen. If this was where Steve lived, it didn’t seem like he lived here. It didn’t feel like a home. 

Steve hurdled you through a large living room as fast as your shaking feet could keep up, up a grand staircase in the main entry hall, down a long hallway and in through a set of double doors at the end. It was a bedroom, though not recently slept in from what you could tell. The immaculate made up bed must have been a double king size with about fifty pillows on it. Steve pushed you down almost rudely, and you bounced on a mattress that felt like a floating cloud. 

Steve dumped your bag next to you. You hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it with you. 

He stood before you, hands on his hips, stance wide, that same, undecipherable, neutral expression on his face. Your defiance sparked, you were irked and annoyed and tired of being panicked. 

He didn’t say anything, clearly expecting you to growel, and you refused. The silence stretched on. He cocked a brow, so arrogant, so entitled, and fury rose high in your throat like bile. 

“Fuck you,” you snarled under your breath, immediately fighting the urge to wince as you realized what you’d said. This would get you in trouble. 

Steve didn’t react at all. 

“Do you have any idea how unsafe that part of the state is at night?” he asked, and the infuriating irony of him lecturing you on danger had you scoffing in frustration. 

“How did you know where I was?” you asked back. 

He reached into a pocket and pulled out your mobile phone. Your jaw went slack as realization hit you. 

“You tracked my phone!?” you asked, horrified.

“I track everything, including your search history,” he said matter of factly, putting your phone away again.  

You felt a pang of nausea, mind swimming momentarily as you mulled that over. All those months of googling how to prevent pregnancy naturally, how to escape abusive relationships, how to get away from stalkers. And he’d seen it all. Heat rose on your cheeks. 

The abortion clinic. 

You’d never even stood a chance. You sighed defeated and put your face in your hands, vehemently despising feeling so exposed. 

“Show it to me,” he said then, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

A beat of silence, the night completely soundless.

“What?” you asked, not following. 

He made a pointed look at your bag. 

The test. 

You didn’t want to show him. Couldn’t bear it. 

“I left it at home,” you lied. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“I threw it out,” you lied again. 

“No.”

“I don’t-”

“y/n, you do not want to try me right now,” he said, and the downright ice in his voice made you shiver, fear settling a cold sting in your chest. You wanted to cry. 

Slowly, you bent down and unzipped the bag, searching past your joggers and toothbrush to that familiar shape and feel of the pregnancy test. You pulled it out slowly and held it out in your hand, eyes down on the bright orange, lush carpet on the floor, not able to meet his eyes. 

The test was taken from your hand and you let it fall to your lap. What were you going to do?

The silence droned on again. You briefly wondered how he would react. How smug he would be, how mean and condescending, how possessive and objectifying he would act, how he would torment you with the knowledge that he had done it. The thing you’d fought so hard. Marked you as his, made you pregnant with his kid. With his seed as he liked to call it in his throws of passion. You ignored the memory of how feral that had made you sometimes. 

You heard a shaky exhale, so small that if it wasn’t for the crushing silence in the room, you would have completely missed it. Confusion had you looking up before you could think, and your mouth fell open again. 

His eyes were glossy, wide as they stared down at the test in his hands, his brows in a small frown. It was the first time he’d looked anywhere near vulnerable in all that time you’d known him, and it tipped you off your axis, warped your mind with confusion. 

He looked up to meet your eyes and instantly got down, sat on his knees in front of your sitting form on the bed. His hands, searingly warm through the fabric of your pants, landed so gently on your thighs, pinning the test, the herald of your doom, firmly to your thigh as his eyes didn’t leave yours. 

There were tears there, making the blue shine so bright it caught you.

“You’re a miracle,” he whispered, and you almost recoiled with the shocking sincerity in it. 

He stared into your eyes for so long, and you wanted to break eye contact, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t. 

He took a large breath, again slightly shaky. 

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, I swear. From now on, I’ll always keep you safe,” he said then, a hand moving up to press so tenderly to your belly, the warmth seeping into your core, almost too hot. “You…and our child,” he continued after a beat, his breath hitching as he breathed in again. 

You didn’t move. Were too shocked too. This must be a dream, you thought helplessly as Steve broke the eye contact to stare lovingly at your stomach, his fingers stretching and curling slightly against it. This must be a weird dream, this isn’t my life. 

But it was. And there was Steve. Moved to tears at the truth of you being pregnant with his kid. So tender and sweet where he’d been so unrelenting and harsh before. He’d never let anything happen to you he’d said, completely glossing over the fact that he had happened to you, and now sealed your fate. 

He leaned forward, slowly, bending over your legs and pressed his face into your belly, his breath warming the fabric of your sweater. He pulled the fabric up to reveal the skin underneath and pressed a lingering kiss there, slick with spit. He kissed it again, slowly, and then again, slightly more urgently. 

The tension grew hot and fast like it always did, and you could feel it like air right before a summer storm - sparking with electricity and premonition. Steve gently pried your legs apart to shuffle between, still pressing wet kisses to your stomach. 

“So good,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re a miracle. So good to me. So good for me,” he continued, as if to himself, as if so overwhelmed by his emotions, the words bleeding from him like blood from a cut. His kisses almost felt like cuts, overwhelming you with contradicting, heart wrenching confliction. 

Maybe you should just give in. Give in to him. Let him have you, possess you like he was determined to do. Maybe you just needed to take comfort in him now, to let him soothe away your anxieties with his conviction. That this was a good thing, could be a miracle like he said, and not the utter demolition it felt like. 

His hands slowly moved to unbutton your pants, gently prying them off you, and you let him. What choice did you have? At least this was familiar. You could lose yourself in this, let yourself be obliterated by his hands, mouth, body and cock like you had so many times before. 

Discarding your panties with your pants, Steve stayed on his knees  on the floor by the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders as he lowered his head between your thighs. He devoured your cunt, tongue mapping it out with his spit, and you fell backwards on the mattress, letting your mind go blank with the sensation. 

Despair slowly enveloped you, tears blurring your eyes before trailing from the corners and into the hair at your temples. He moaned into your mound, growing incessant, his hands grabbing your hips tightly. It felt like the world was spinning away slowly, sinking, bleeding out of oxygen and leaving you aching. 

You came with a keen, convulsing quietly on the bed, thighs clamping down around his head as he groaned, sending vibrations through you. The tears kept coming, a silent river flowing down your face. 

He slowly got to his feet, crawling up over you and pulling you further up the bed with an arm around you. He saw the tears and your face and raised a warm, calloused hand to wipe the wet away. 

“Shh, no, no. Sweetheart, I know this is scary, but it’ll be alright. I’m here,” he said low and soothing, bending down to kiss your eyelids as they slid close. A small sob broke from you. 

Yes, exactly.

You didn’t move as he slipped between your legs, sitting back on his haunches. He unbuttoned his plain, blue shirt. He was wearing regular clothes, you noted, not able to care. As his skin was unveiled, sculpted muscles rippling elegantly under smooth skin, your hands absentmindedly reached up. You stroked up his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under your touch. He panted softly as you caressed him, but you felt nothing. Couldn’t care. It was like every feeling you had was muted, had bled out along with your tears. 

There was no point either way. Your life was over. What is freedom, integrity and autonomy good for anyway, when I can live to be underneath Steve’s body, you thought sarcastically and bitterly to yourself. 

His eyes followed your hands, wide and intent, and you could see how hard he was, the bulge in his jeans obscene. 

Yes, fuck me. Fuck me til I can’t even remember my own name. Make me forget everything. 

“Make me feel good,” you whispered out loud, pleading, eyes meeting his, body lethargic, heavy and dull. 

He didn’t even seem to notice, his pupils blown wide, breath picking up as he hastily unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down just far enough to free himself. He lowered himself down, leaning on one hand as his other guided him inside you, slipping in in the most subtle way, like two puzzle pieces linking together in a chain of a thousand others. You gasped slightly as he bottomed out, the sting of his girth welcome as everything else was just numb. 

Oh, who were you kidding. It felt good. In spite of everything, when Steve did this, it always felt good, and the guilt of making this an escape, cowering away inside this one respite, this silver lining, stung along with new tears in your eyes. 

He started moving slowly, rocking you softly on the mattress as his body lowered to lay flush against yours, warm and heavy. You wrapped your heavy, limp arms around his neck, just letting the movement rock you, letting him do as he wanted. 

He turned his lips to your ears. 

“You’re gonna stay here from now on. We’re gonna raise it here. Together. Be a family, you, me, and our child. Our baby,” he murmured, interjected by soft grunts. “You’re mine. Finally, completely mine.”

His hips picked up speed, moving more frantically, his cock spearing you with the pulse after pulse of pleasure. You felt the distinct need for it to be harder. More painful. Not tender and intimate like this. Like you were lovers, in love, married, about to have a kid together. You wanted him to choke the life out of you, hit you until your skin turned raw and red, bend you til your bones protested and pound you like he was punishing you. Until he drew blood. Like he had done so many times before. But no, he chose this moment to be sweet. 

He leaned up on his arms again, staring into your eyes as he grinded inside you, the way slick and easy for him. 

“I love you,” he whispered, so genuinely and achingly gentle. 

You came, back arching off the bed, a strangled noise catching in your throat. Your whole body stiffened to the point of pain, and Steve fucked you through it, slowly, eyes boring into you, taking in every minute detail. He followed into his own orgasm as you came down from yours, groaning loudly as he jerked twice inside you, and you felt the warmth of his come as his cock pulsed familiarly against your trembling insides. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hotly against the skin, his whole body slumping to pin yours down. 

The distracting pleasure faded away like a dull ache, and you were defenseless against the welling grief washing over you again. The anxiety that always sparked after he’d come inside you was gone now. The damage is already done, you thought bitterly. A little extra seed would make no difference now. He had thoroughly claimed your body as his. 

Your body jerked with a sob underneath Steve. He raised his head and looked at you, hand coming up to wipe at your tears again. 

“Hey now, what’s this?” he asked softly, brows drawing up in a fond expression. 

You couldn’t even muster enough strength to be provoked by his ease, his audacity to play ignorant to what he was doing to you - what he had been doing for months. 

“Just let…let me go,” you whispered. 

He looked at you, and his brows twitched, delicacy starting to bleed away from his afterglow. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Please. I don’t want this,” you said, voice small and frail. 

He blinked a few times and you could see his mind warring against your words. This was not what he wanted to hear. He never wanted to hear those words. 

“I do-”

“No,” he said, quickly pulling out of your body and sitting up on his haunches. You stayed lax on the bed, legs spread, his come leaking out of you, your arms slung out on the mattress at your sides. 

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you, I don’t want the child,” you said, and you sounded so dead, so lifeless and muted, speaking the words to the room more than anything. You just needed to say them out loud - to have given this last, defining defiance. To protest out loud - if only for the symbolic meaning of it. 

You heard Steve’s breath pick up again, and knew this wasn’t wise, was not going to save you - was probably going to come back and bite you in the ass later. He wasn’t pleased. But you didn’t care. If he was going to steal your life, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of playing house with him willingly. Not just yet.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice steely, but you detected that small undercurrent of anxiety. 

“I’ve never meant anything else,” you countered, still staring up at the ceiling, not moving save for your steady breaths, tears still falling silently from the corners of your eyes. 

Silence. 

“We’ll see,” he said, or rather, gritted out through his teeth, and you felt the mattress dip as he got off the bed. “You’ll stay here, eat and sleep. I’ll get your things soon, including your car, though you won’t be needing it. This place has everything you need - fully stocked pantry, a cinema, pool, good outdoor grounds and a library. If you want any other books, let me know and I’ll get them for you. Food as well. Though I don’t want you to be unhealthy, I suspect whatever cravings you get can’t be helped.”

He talked as if discussing a matter of business, not mapping out your prison for you. The ceiling turned blurry as you stared, exhaustion starting to seep into your bones. 

“Oh, and y/n,” he said, bringing your eyes to him as he lingered in the doorway, pants and shirt buttoned again, “if you do anything to harm yourself or the child, you will never leave this room again.”

§

Note: I'm thinking of maybe continuing this as a series. Possessive, unhinged and slightly yandere Steve always gets me going<3 Lmk if you'd be interested in reading more of these two<3

Modern!lee Bodecker and chronically ill reader (migraines and chronic fatigue) and soft fluff/comfort/cockwarming -cuddling?

Greatest Comfort

+18 ONLY

Pairing : modern!Lee Bodecker x chronically ill!reader

Word Count : 567

Warnings : chronic illness, fluff, cockwarming, explicit language

Notes : Thank you for sending this in! I hope you enjoy 💕

________________

Lee came home prepared. She had texted him that she had to leave work early today. While he couldn’t get off early like she could, Lee made sure he had all the essentials. He had scoured the internet to tips and tricks to help alleviate her suffering. He had it all memorized by now.

He found her sprawled on their bed, barely conscious. He leaned down and kissed her head, smoothing her hair out of her face. Her face was contorted in pain, his heart aching at the sight.

“It’s bad again,” she grumbled into the pillow.

He kissed her temple, “I know, honey.” He began to strip of his uniform and changed into his loungewear, “You take anything?”

“Yeah,” she croaked.

He covered her body up with the blanket and kissed her head once more, “Be right back.”

Going into the bathroom, Lee ran a bath with peppermint essential oil and orange slices. He put on the steam diffuser and added eucalyptus essential oil. When everything was ready, he wandered back to their bedroom and slowly coaxed her out of bed. He carefully led her to the tub, helping her shed her clothes and stepping into the water.

Before she sat down, she turned to him, “With me?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips and nodded, “Okay.”

He stripped of his clothing and sat behind her in the tub. Her body immediately relaxed into him, the warm water soothing her aches and pains. The scent of the peppermint and eucalyptus began to soothe her fatigue, slowly masking the pain of her throbbing head.

Lee began to massage her shoulders, dispersing the tense knots. His fingers worked on her scalp and her neck, scattering kisses over every inch of exposed skin. Her limbs felt heavy and she finally felt at peace. Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was Lee. Either way, she was starting to feel better.

The water was continuously topped off so they could bask a little while longer. She curled into his chest, finding great comfort in his arms. She never wanted to leave this moment.

She nuzzled her face into the crook of her neck and murmured softly, “Wanna be closer.”

Lee immediately hugged her tighter with one arm and slipped his other hand down between them. He took hold of his member, already half erect. He stroked himself a few times as he kissed her temple. He knew exactly what she needed.

He worked himself up easily, his breath becoming heavy. He swallowed hard as he squeezed her hips, signaling that he was ready for her. Carefully, she maneuvered on his lap, the water lapping at the sides of the tub. She positioned him at her entrance and slowly sank down onto this length. He stretched her wide, her walls fluttering around him. They both let out soft moans as the pleasure washed over them like the water.

Seated and filled to the hilt, the remained still. They held each other as they savored this moment, this feeling. No words were shared. The silence was calming. They simply stayed connected until the water around them became chilled. Even then, they debated staying in the tub. Only when their skin began to wrinkle did they leave their embrace, only to return to their bed.

While Lee couldn’t completely take away her pain, he certainly was able to help.

Even If You Don't Mean It - Part Four

Summary: Sy takes you out for the day and you find out what you really mean to him.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 9k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Smut including oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, dirty talking, implied masturbation (m and f), showering together, slight praise kink, anal play (f receiving), mentions of PTSD, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of war, angst, fluff.

Part Four Warnings:

Smut including fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving & discussion of male receiving), anal play (f receiving), p in v sex, playful biting, mild choking, intimate touching, showering together, dirty talk including discussions of masturbation and sex toys, discussion of somnophilia, praise kink, angst, fluff.

Authors Note:

This is the final part to the story. Thank you to everyone who has been supportive of the story, your comments and reblogs have meant so much to me and have been really encouraging.

Thanks once again to my wonderful friends and beta readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed . Your constant support and friendship means the world to me.

A massive thank you to @radiantheartbeat for editing you have truely lifted my writing and inspired me to be better. It has meant the world to me and I have enjoyed getting to know you through the process as well. Everyone, if you want some more great Henry content, please check out her blog here . You won’t be disappointed.

Dividers made by me.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part 3

The bed dips and you open your sleep-hazed eyes to see Sy climbing into bed. It’s still more dark than light within the room, but you can hear the birds outside and know it must be near dawn.

“Sy? What time is it?” you mumble as he reaches for you.

“Roll over,” he murmurs back. You can smell coffee on his breath and wonder how long he’s been up. “Still early,” he adds, “go back to sleep, Sugar.”

You look at him a moment, clearly seeing his face in the slowly building light. His eyes are bright without any sign of sleepiness; he must have been awake for some time.

“Roll over,” he repeats and a grin crosses his lips, “I like bein’ the big spoon.”

“Okay,” you oblige, rolling your eyes playfully, but truthfully, you like it too.

He held you like that when you went to bed last night, his arm rested under your pillow, the other cradled you firmly against him while he cupped your breast in his hand. The sound of his long, steady breaths in your ear had been better than any lullaby you had ever heard, and you had fallen asleep almost instantly. 

He holds you now that same way, keeping his whole body flush with yours; even his legs follow the same angle. The only difference now is that his arm is around your waist and his fingers are tucked between your body and the mattress. He’s effectively trapped you, which you don’t mind one bit.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask.

Sy hums softly, he’s so close to you that the rumble in his throat reminds you of a jet engine, “Better than I have been.”

“How long have you been up?”

After a brief hesitation he admits, “A couple of hours.” 

You slip your fingers between his and the mattress as you wriggle into him, the warmth of his chest feeling cozy. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too,” he says as he kisses your shoulder, “now, go back to sleep, baby.”

“I can’t, I’m awake now.”

Sy hums again. This time the sound seems to come from a deeper place and he kisses the back of your neck, just below your hairline. You sigh as his hand goes to your breast, cupping it tenderly and letting his thumb slide over your nipple. His lips follow your spine before moving across your shoulder, his hands dancing over you; his fingertips brushing your skin as gently as butterfly wings. His lips are just as soft and his whiskers are like feathers on your back.

“Sy…” you moan wistfully. 

“Shh,” he murmurs, “go back to sleep.”

You close your eyes and try to sleep but Sy won't stop touching you. You suppose he’s trying to be sweet by stroking, petting, and kissing you, but his caress is like a blowtorch, searing through your skin and delving deep into your bones. You don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose; his touch is so gentle, tender and soothing, yet it feels so seductive, sensual and full of desire. He wants you again, you know this instinctively despite his urgings for you to sleep. His hands move lower, gliding agonisingly slow over the curve of your ass. Rolling onto your stomach and nuzzling into his warmth, you widen your legs in a silent invitation. Blood rushes through your veins and your core feels maddeningly empty, sleep is the last thing you want to do right now.

“Noah…” you sigh, turning your head to kiss his chest, brushing your lips across his hard pectorals. 

His warm layer of fur tickles your nose but you like the feeling and the smell of fresh soap on his skin. Your tongue flicks teasingly over his nipple and he groans while pressing his cock into your side. He’s hard, just like you suspected, and you hide your smile of triumph. His fingers move across your back and his nails graze over your spine from nape to buttocks. You shiver with pleasure and Sy makes a noise deep in his throat as he kisses your shoulder. His hand moves over your ass again, sliding lower and lower down your leg, until he switches direction to scratch softly up the inside of your thigh. 

“Touch me, Noah,” you beg unashamedly.

At your words, he releases an approving vocal rumble that echoes in his chest as he raises his fingers to your lips, “Get ‘em wet for me, baby.”

You take him in your mouth, looking into his eyes as you do. His eyes are firmly fixed on your lips, and you recognise the carnal appetite in his gaze. You feel a jolt in your chest and you moan as your own aching hunger becomes increasingly unbearable.

“Good girl,” he says softly, “you're so good to me, baby.”

You whine, pleading pathetically around his fingers, lifting your ass higher until you're almost on your knees. He removes his dripping fingers from your mouth and you bite your lip, he growls in response and plants his lips on yours. His spit lubricated fingers part your slit, and you gasp into his kiss as he opens you to find your rapidly dampening core.

“Fuck,” he drawls into your mouth, the curse elongating with his long exhale.

Sy’s demeanour changes like the wind and his chest presses firmly onto your back, using his weight to flatten you into the mattress. His arm snakes between your shoulders and the mattress, his knees pushing your legs further apart as he settles between them.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he growls into your ear, dipping another finger into you, and you moan as he turns them inside you.

“I don’t want you to be,” you say as you twist your head to capture his bottom lip between your teeth and suck provocatively on his soft flesh. 

His fingers withdraw as he springs to his knees, grabbing your hips, tilting them and nudging your thighs still further apart. His breathing is hard, each one reverberating in his throat and whistling through his nose. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and he spreads you wide with a soft curse. You bury your head into the mattress, knowing how on display you are for him and the rush of desire you feel becomes intermingled with self consciousness. 

“Jesus,” he groans, “you look so fuckin’ gorgeous…” He runs his hand over your slit, spreading your slick all over, “Un-fucking-believable!” His touch is confident and firm, your whole body buzzing as his rough, calloused skin rubs against you.

“Sy…”

You feel his whiskers on your ass cheek, and his teeth sink playfully into your flesh. You jump with a yelp and giggle, shocked that he bit you, but you can practically feel your wetness seeping from your core. 

“Shit, Sugar—you’re so fuckin’ ready for me. ”

“Noah, please…” 

His fist hits the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you and growls in your ear, “Tell me what ya want, baby,” he slides his cock over you, teasing you, “tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

Oh shit. 

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer. Who asks these things?

“Yeah you do, baby, you told me yesterday,” Sy says eagerly, “tell me again.”

What did you say yesterday? Right now you can barely remember your name.

“What? I— I don’t remember,” you ask stupidly.

“You want me gentle at first,” he prompts, “then…”

Oh fuck. 

“Harder, rougher…” you mumble into the pillows.

“That’s my girl,” Sy says proudly. He pushes inside you with a low groan, and you lift your hips up to meet him with a short cry. “Fuck,” he breathes into your ear with a drawn out exhale, “I wanted this all night— needed to be inside you again. It took everythin’ I had not to touch ya while you slept.”

“You should have,” you say in desperation, “touch me while I’m asleep, touch me whenever you want, Noah.”

He moves his legs to the outside of yours and you press your thighs together instinctively. God, you can feel how snuggly you’re gripping him and how completely he fills you. 

“Holy shit, baby…” he slowly drags his cock out of your core, then grunts before filling you again, “I wanna wake ya up with my mouth on your cunt…” he pulls back at a painstaking pace making you whine and cry out as he brutishly buries himself deep within you, “or fill you with my cock, just like this.”

His chest presses into your back as he snakes his arm around your neck; his thick bulging muscles squeeze your cheek and you nuzzle into it. His beard scratches at your skin and his heavy breath echoes in your ear. His lips suck, his teeth nip and his tongue teases your neck and shoulders. His body rolls, his rhythm increasing in force and desire with every retreat and invasion.

“Dammit, baby. I ain’t ever gonna get enough of you. Ever!” His hand slips between your body and the mattress and his fingers glide over your folds until he feels himself disappearing into you. “God damn, baby. I can feel your pussy stretching around me. It feels so fuckin’ good.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder as the arm around your neck tightens. His muscles swell, the coarse hair of his forearm tickles your chin while his fingers sweep over your clit, drawing little circles. Your thighs involuntarily squeeze tighter together as his touch becomes more insistent, driving you mercilessly to your edge. He attends to the bite he’s marked you with, soothing it with his lips and tongue as he keeps up his brutal, primal pace.

You want to tell him how good he feels, to not stop, but your words only turn to moans in your throat. You grab hold of his arm, fingers digging into the dense, tight muscle beneath his sweltering skin. God, being under him like this— his body covering you completely, grunting and growling out his indecent desires— it's amazing. 

Even though he’s everywhere, in you and enfolding you like a blanket, you want more of him. Greedy and lustful, you reach behind your head and wrap your arm around the nape of his neck to tug him close seeking his silky lips and velvety tongue. And as if he knew you needed his kiss, his mouth is waiting to meet yours.

Your breath quickens and you break away, gasping for air as your legs quiver, your orgasm approaching at lightning speed. He holds your jaw in his hand, forcing your gaze to remain on his feverish eyes, while his commanding, emphatic voice urges you to your peak. Blazing hot euphoria tears through your body as you soar into bliss and your senses briefly leave you before Sy draws you back into your skin with his whispered words. 

“My baby,” he murmurs, “my woman. God, look at you.” 

He’s still inside of you, sinfully hard, yet unmoving. He kisses you tenderly, reverently, like he thinks you’ll break and you open your eyes to look straight into his soft— though still carnal and demanding— azure gaze. You feel so desired when he looks at you like this. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Sy says incontrovertibly, as if he heard your thought. 

You don’t know what to say, there are so many things, but you don’t know where to start. So, you kiss him. He whimpers as he returns your kiss and begins to move inside you, smooth, slow, and shallow, waiting for you to be ready to take his savage pace again.

He utters a low curse and with a grunt he pulls out, manhandling you easily onto your back. He grins as he bends your legs, curling you into a ball, lifting one onto his shoulder. He makes that familiar guttural burr in his throat as he runs a hand down your raised leg and holds your hip with the other. You gasp, amazed at how quickly and effortlessly he throws you around, but the sound makes him stop and furrow his brow.

“No good?” he asks, lowering your leg.

You lift your leg back onto his shoulder. “No! It’s good,” you say, a little shaken, though immensely aroused, “You’re just— so strong.” 

Sy chuckles while grabbing your hips and tugging you closer. You bite your lip as he tucks your other leg under his arm and leans over you. “You like that? Bein’ thrown around some?”

“Apparently I do, yeah,” you force out as your stomach tightens and your core clenches with ardent need.

“Fuck, Sugar,” Sy kisses you roughly as he slides his hand under your neck and presses his forehead against yours so hard it actually hurts. “You make me so fuckin’ horny, you know that? Hotter than hell, that’s what you are.”

You pull on his neck as well, lifting your lips to his. Your eyes briefly meet before he closes his and moves his mouth against yours. You let your eyes slide shut as well, succumbing to his kiss with total submission. His gravelly voice saws in his throat and his kisses become rougher, his tongue demanding and domineering as it pushes past your lips and into your mouth. His gentle grip on your neck becomes firm, tightening as his passion increases. You become lost in the moment, grasping Sy tight, unwilling to let him go as your passion rises to match his.

“Please fuck me, Noah?” you ask, the words spilling out before the thought even had time to fully form in your mind. You grope for his ass, pulling him closer, “Just fuck me,” you repeat, not a question this time, now you’re demanding.

“Damn, woman,” Sy snarls, grabbing at his cock and guiding himself into your core. In an instant he becomes the image of an animal, his lip curling back over his teeth revealing a wolfish grin. “You fuckin’ kill me,” he spits out, “you make me Goddamn crazy.”

His eyes slide over your curled body until he sees where you’re joined and his face tenses as he mumbles a curse. He grabs your waist to hold you still while he watches himself pumping in and out of you, your bodies slamming together with a loud clap.

“You feel so fuckin’ good… your pussy… shit, that’s so fuckin’...” He doesn’t finish his sentence because his lips are on your neck, sucking your skin deep into his mouth and he bites into the tendon, just shy of pain. He is driving you wild, feral, all coherent thought is lost as you move your body beneath him, countering him, finding your own rhythm.

“I… I’m gonna come…” Sy pants, “I can’t…” 

“Don’t stop, Noah, I want you to come,” you spur him on.

“Fuck,” he roars as he rises to his knees, his hands gipping your hips as he lifts your ass off the mattress. 

He surges forward, holding himself deep within you as his eyes roll shut and his head lulls back. He clutches your hips with desperate fingers, his huge body shuddering as he releases, grunting through bared teeth. He pulls out slightly, then slams back into you before he stills and your leg falls from his shoulder as he collapses half onto you, half onto the bed.

“You ok?” he heaves breathlessly. He attempts to roll off you, but you wrap your legs around him, still wanting to keep him close.

“Yeah,” you reply with a contented sigh.

“I uh… went a little hard there. I wasn’t sure…”

You kiss him softly to silence him. “I’m good,” you assure him, “really, really good.”

Good doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel; you’re elated, sated and feel an overwhelming sense of intimacy. And that thought doesn’t immediately make sense to you. Being together last night— making love— it was understandable that you felt vulnerably close to Sy. But what you had just done— fucking— also brought about that same surge of affection, and it seems surprisingly strange to experience it in two very different encounters. 

However, you decide not to question it. Instead you go with it, covering his cheek with your hand, not wanting this feeling to end. He grins as he grabs your wrist and kisses your palm with a groan.

“Gimme a minute, Sugar,” he says, “Jesus Christ…” his eyes shine brightly with a boyish delight, “you’re…” he laughs and shakes his head, “that was not what I was expecting at all.”

You frown, a little unsure of his meaning and feeling suddenly insecure you slide out from under him, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to cover yourself. Perhaps the sense of intimacy you feel is one sided; maybe he isn’t feeling the same way. Shame rises within you, making you feel queasy as you try to move away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sy cups your cheeks, halting your retreat, and turns your head so you’re looking at him. “It’s not a bad thing, Sugar. I—” his eyes roam your face then he kisses you forcefully, no tongue, just rough lips and passion. “I’m still gettin’ used to the fact that you ain’t shy, and then…” he shrugs, “then we fuck like that. I knew it would be good, baby, but that was fuckin’ amazin’. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

You smile a little coyly. When you’re aroused, your inhibitions fall away and you don’t tend to get embarrassed or shy, but now, in moments like these, you still do. Your cheeks heat as you try to gather the courage to say what you want to say. Then you look into Sy’s eyes and you see the earnestness in them, how he’s truly listening to you, that he wants to know what you’re feeling, and all your embarrassment melts away.

“It’s never been like this for me before,” you admit. “With you, it’s different. I feel different. I feel… safe.”

Sy’s brows pull together and he looks away, then he drops his head with a grin and looks back at you. You can see that he’s processing, trying to work out how best to say what he's thinking, and you return his smile while you wait for him to speak. His silence is different now that you can see him and you no longer feel the need to fill the empty space with chatter.

Sy kisses your forehead, then bending his elbow, rests his head on his upturned hand. He uses his free hand to pull back the sheet a little and caresses the curves of your body. You continue to wait patiently for him to speak, and eventually he does, licking his lips a few times before he begins.

“You make me feel nervous,” he confesses with a chuckle. His fingers trace the curve of your breasts almost absentmindedly. “I haven’t felt this way with a woman since I was a teenager.”

You frown, “I don’t want to make you nervous,”

“I make you nervous too,” he points out and his smirk turns cocky.

“Only when you look at me like that,” you say as your heart skips a beat.

“Do ya want me to stop?” You shake your head, you never want him to stop looking at you like that. He bites his lower lip and his face loses its mirth. “But you make me feel calm too,” he says, “I don’t know how you can make me feel both, but ya do.”

“I don’t know how it's possible either, but that's how I feel too. I guess…” you swallow, unsure if he wants to hear what you’re thinking, “I guess it’s because I want this so much. I want this to work between us.”

Sy looks at you for a few moments before saying, “I can’t see how it won’t. It already is.”

You smile and bring his head to your chest and eventually you both fall back to sleep.

You awake in the same position that you fell asleep in, Sy’s head is still on your chest with one of his hands wrapped around your breast. It makes you chuckle and he stirs, his hand squeezing before sliding down your side and tucking under your waist.

“You awake?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” You raise your arms over your head to stretch, your breasts lifting and Sy kisses them softly. You brush your hand over his head, and close your eyes, relaxing into the feeling of his pelty hair on your palm while his plush lips and warm mouth caress your chest.

“I can’t stop touching you,” he murmurs, so quietly you barely hear him.

You smile and hum, “You don’t have to stop.”

“We gonna stay here all day?” he asks with a smirk.

“If you want to,” you say, “I didn’t plan anything for today, I wanted to wait and see what you want to do.”

Sy is quiet for a while, as he sweeps his fingers over your belly. Then he says, “I wanna take ya out.”

“Yeah?” you say, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice. 

“Yeah?” he imitates your tone with a teasing grin, “I wanna take ya for a ride on my Harley. I took her out first thing yesterday and she’s workin’ fine. I know about this place where we could eat, it's got a real nice view.”

“Sure,” you say excitedly. Going for a ride on his bike was one of the very first activities he told you he wanted to do with you all those months ago. “I still don't have a helmet or anything.”

“I borrowed a helmet for ya. Just put some thick jeans on and you can wear one of my jackets ‘til I getcha one of your own.”

“You wanna buy me a jacket?”

“If you like riding with me, yeah,” Sy says, “I’ll take ya on weekend rides. Maybe when… I’m sleepin’ better, we can spend some nights out at a cabin or one of those little hotel things, you know, those houses, what are they called?”

“A Bed and Breakfast?” you guess.

“Yeah, that's it,” Sy grins.

“You don’t seem like a B & B kind of guy,” you tease.

Sy shrugs and you think he might be a little embarrassed. “Maybe not, but I thought you might like it,” he explains. “Fuck! I’m not really good at this whole datin’ and romance thing, am I?”

“No, don’t say that.” You rest a hand on his cheek, “You’re honest and you trust me enough to tell me how you feel. That’s one of the most romantic things anyone can do.” 

Sy’s brows pinch together and raise in the middle, his jaw jutting forward. He looks at you so long you begin to think you’ve said something that upset him. Then he kisses you, faintly brushing his lips over yours.

“I hope you like ridin’ with me,” he whispers.

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It clears my head. Calms me down.”

It strikes you as funny that not long ago he said something similar about you. “Then what do you need me for?” you ask with a cheeky grin.

“My bike doesn't kiss me back. I've tried…” he sighs dramatically, “but she just won’t give it up.”

You laugh, “Come on. Let's go then.”

Sy follows you into the shower, grinning as he washes, his eyes roaming shamelessly over your body, watching as you soap yourself up. He gets hard again, not fully erect, but he’s well on his way, and he doesn’t exhibit any need to hide it.

As much as you enjoy watching his eyes take you in, your mind is on other things. My woman, he had said, and it wasn’t the first time. There's a presumption that you and Sy are officially a couple, but you still haven't spoken about openly. You suppose part of the fault lies with you since you were reluctant to make promises while he was deployed, but now you need to know where this stands. He speaks as though you are his girlfriend, that must mean something, however since that flash of déjá vu last night, you want explicit confirmation about his feelings towards you.

As you finish rinsing the soap from your body, Sy speaks, “What's on your mind? I can tell you're thinkin’ hard on somethin’.”

“It's…” you want to tell him it’s nothing but you don't want to lie.

“I went too hard didn't I?” Sy interprets your evasion with a look of regret on his face, “I hurt ya.”

“No, it was good,” you assure him, “I liked it. A lot.”

“Then what is it, Sugar? What’s goin’ on?”

You nibble on your lip as his brows draw together. You can see his jaw tightening beneath his beard and he seems to stop breathing. You can barely breathe yourself as you quickly force out the words, “Sy, are we dating?”

He exhales with an amused bark, “Jesus, I thought…” You look away embarrassed as he laughs at you, but he tucks his fingers under your chin and guides your face to his, “We are well beyond dating in my mind.”

“Okay, but what does that mean?” you ask in frustration, “For God’s sake, Sy. You’re so blunt about everything, but you keep dancing around this. What do you mean?”

As quick as a snake, his arm wraps around your waist and he holds you close, his furry, muscled chest presses against your smooth, soft one, knees bending until he looks you in the eyes. 

“It means whatever you want it to mean, darlin’. If you want me to be your boyfriend, then that’s what I’ll be.”

If you want? That is hardly reassuring. You look into his eyes and though he appears earnest, his words don’t seem to match his intent. Frustration simmers within you, and you can feel your brows drawing tightly together.You know you must look furious, but you can’t help it.

“But what do you want, Sy?” you try to push away from him, but he draws your naked body closer to his and doesn’t let go. 

“I want you,” he says roughly and emphatically. His eyes scan your face and he raises his hand to your cheek as he smiles, “I’m yours, anyway you want me, Sugar. I don't want anybody else but I ain’t gonna rush ya. Not after that night I asked you…” His grin falters a little and he licks his lips, “We go at your pace. I don’t want to scare you off by puttin’ labels on us.”

“I told you I don’t scare easily, Noah,” you respond, with a small smile.

“Hmm. I think ya do get scared, you just don’t let it stop you,” he says seriously as he runs his thumb over your jaw.

“Maybe,” you concede.

Sy grins briefly then his face becomes serious and his tone descends, “Does it scare you? How serious I am about you?”

“No,” you say softly, leaning forward to place a light kiss on his lips, “because I’m right there with you.” He raises his eyebrows as you kiss him again. “I don't want anyone else either.”

Sy hums as he kisses you back with soft, relaxed lips. For a while, he lets you take the lead, squeezing you tightly as you trail your kisses down his neck. 

He turns you in his arms. His hands slide over your body and he makes that now familiar noise in his throat as he kisses your neck. You close your eyes as his lips move over you and his fingers slip between your legs.

“I’m gonna make you come again,” he growls. Making a low moan, you reach for his cock but he pulls away, “No, Sugar. Just you.”

“Why?” you ask petulantly.

“I can't explain how good you feel to me, how much I just like touchin’ ya. Especially when there were times I thought I'd never get to be with you like this. When I thought ya didn't want me.” 

He curses in your ear as his fingers part your centre. You bite your lip and whimper as blood rushes to your core, and you feel how puffy and slick you are beneath his touch. 

“Jesus,” he groans, as his thick finger slides easily into you. “Your pussy is fucking perfect.” 

His hardness presses into the cleft of your ass as he curls his finger and your thighs close around his hand. 

“I keep thinkin’ about something you said yesterday,” Sy drawls into your ear as he dips another finger into you.

“Yeah?” you ask. You mewl as he fills you, then drags his fingers slowly from your heat before easing them back inside in a sleepy rhythm.

“You said that you touched yourself while you were thinkin’ of me.” You hear the smile in his voice as he says it. You groan as embarrassment floods your face with warmth. Sy cups your cheek and brings your face to his. “Don’t do that. I can’t stop thinkin’ about it cause it’s so fuckin’ hot. I used to wonder what you’d look like, how you would do it, if you used toys.”

You bite your lip and he drags his thumb over it until you release it. He kisses you softly, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his fingers, subtly building your desire to near breaking point.

“Tell me,” he urges. “I wanna know.”

“I have a vibrator,” you admit.

Sy’s eyes roll shut as he inhales deeply and you feel his cock jerk. “That’s a good girl.” He eyes are dark and narrowed when he opens them, his voice thick with lust as he asks, “Do you fuck yourself with it?”

He really wants to know, you realise, it really does turn him on. “Sometimes, but I usually only use it on my clit.” you say breathlessly. He wants you to talk to him, but he doesn’t stop fucking you with his finger; once again he has made you feel stupid and brain dead in the best possible way.

“I wanna watch you do that. Fuck. I want you to use it while I fuck you,” he squeezes your ass, and your eyes go wide as one of his fingers brushes slowly over your ass hole. “Jesus… the things I wanna do to you…” 

His finger passes over your sensitive hole again and this time he presses softly against the tight rim while he pumps his fingers into your core. You bite back a moan as a shiver runs up your spine and all of sudden you feel yourself approaching the edge.

“Fuck, baby,” Sy practically moans, “you like that.”

Abruptly he removes his fingers and pushes you against the tiles as he drops to his knees. He lifts your leg over his back and your thigh rests on his shoulder as his tongue dips into your core. He hungrily presses his face against you, lapping and curling his tongue deep within you. There’s an urgent ferocity in his eyes as he looks up at you. God, when he looks at you like that, it’s like he wants nothing more than to crawl up inside you.

He is unrelenting as he moves to your clit, holding your body against the tiles with a firm forearm against your belly. His eyes don’t leave yours, they’re so dark with primal lust that you barely see the blue of his irises. He hums against you, shifting his arm to capture your breast in his hand, squeezing, watching how your hips buck and how you move above him as you seek your release. Your knee shakes, your clenching muscles tremble as you ride the edge of the cliff, so close to falling over. Then his finger presses rhythmically against your ass and your body surges forward nearly forcing him off of you. He determinedly clutches you tight, working you until you hit your high and your eyes slam closed as you cry out his name.

Unable to stand, you begin to sink and Sy scoops you into his arms. You’re legitimately dazed and your muscles feel as weak as a newborn foal’s. He strokes you affectionately, kissing you gently until he thinks you’ve regained enough strength to stand with him.

Although he’s holding you, you still wobble. “Lean on me, baby, put your arms around my neck,” he says, adding, “Good girl,” when you do. 

He wraps an arm around you holding you close as he turns off the shower and walks you out of the cubicle. He grabs your towel, covering your shoulders while he kisses you some more.

“I love making you come,” Sy grins. “You look so fuckin’ good… The way your voice quivers when you’re close is so fuckin’ hot. And the way you move when you come— God damn. ”

You smile shyly, your cheeks heating as he rolls his hips against you, his cock still rock hard. You lick your lips and look down, watching as he rubs against you. You reach for him and he lets your fingers slide over his length. He shivers with a curse before he grabs your wrist.

“I want to,” you say with an unintentional whine to your voice.

Sy chuckles and moves the arm he’s holding behind your back. “I know you do,” he says, “And I want you to, but I also want to take you out and at this rate we ain’t ever gonna leave.”

“When we get back, then…?” you let the unasked question hang in the air.

“When we get back,” he agrees and runs his thumb over your lips, “Will ya put me in your mouth again? Get me real close, then climb on top of me and ride me? God, I wanna see that! I wanna see ya come on me like that.”

“If that’s what you want, Noah,” you mumble softly. 

“There’s a million things I want,” he smirks, “but let’s start with that.”

A couple of hours later you’re clinging to Sy, your front pressed against his back, arms wrapped around his middle, and your thighs cradling his ass. You feel a bit like Charlie in Top Gun and even though Tom Cruise couldn’t hold a candle to Sy, the thought does make you giggle. You squeal in delight as he opens the throttle on his Harley, peeling the tires as you ride out of the military base.

It’s not the first time you’ve been on a bike; your brother has a Kawasaki, but it's the first time you’ve been on a cruiser and it's a much more comfortable ride. Though it's still fast, it takes the corners smoother and slower than when riding with your brother, and it gives you a nice opportunity to just relax in the moment.

As the distance stretches between town and the mountains you feel a weighty peace descend upon you. Just being near to Sy, feeling him breathe beneath your hands, feeling the strength of his back as you press into him, and knowing that he’s here with you, is more than enough. When the road straightens out you realise that you’re not alone in your feelings. Sy covers your hands with one of his, like he’s touching you just to confirm that you’re real and present, as though if doesn’t hold onto you, you might disappear. Although you can’t speak, you don’t feel like it’s necessary; you feel him so deeply in this moment that all you can do is melt into it, into him, and let the feeling of utter contentment seep into your bones.

For the next hour you sit with your thoughts, letting them wash over you and run wild; you fantasise about how much you desire the man in front of you, and about all of the potential the future holds with him in your life. It becomes striking how quickly your doubts seemed to have vanished.

When you arrive at your destination, you are pleasantly surprised. On the high side of the street stands a small diner with outdoor picnic tables, and across the road is a scenic overview showcasing the lush green mountains that takes your breath away.

You get off the bike on stiff and shaky legs. Wanting to stretch them out after so long without moving, you walk to the edge of the carpark and look over the vista, pulling your helmet off as you go.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Sy asks as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I’ve lived here for three years and I never knew this place existed,” you say a little breathlessly. 

Sy rests his chin on your shoulder, so your view is the same. “One of the guys on the team told me about it a few years ago and I’ve been coming here ever since. Sometimes me and a few of the guys who ride will come up here on the weekend. When I told them about ya, they uh…” you can hear a grin in his voice, like he’s remembering a joke or something, “they said it was a good place to bring you.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t told them anything about me,” you accuse with a smile, glad that you mean enough to him to tell his buddies about you.

“I hadn’t, but since I want you to meet them in a couple of weeks, I thought I’d better warn ‘em so they don’t have a heart attack.” You chuckle and Sy gives you a squeeze before he adds with a whisper, “I ain’t ever brought a girl to meet ‘em before.”

Turning in Sy’s embrace you put your arms around his neck. “Why not?”

Sy lowers his head rubbing his nose against yours, encouraging you to lift your chin higher. “Wasn’t ever serious before,” he says before his lips meet yours. When he pulls away, he stares at you longingly with heated eyes as he licks his lips. He opens his mouth to take a breath as if he’s going to speak, but instead he just grins, and cupping the back of your head, he guides you to his chest. You turn your head so you can rest your ear between his large pecs, and you close your eyes to listen intently to the low thumping beat of his heart, while his fingers stroke your hair.

“You hungry?” he asks, his voice resonating deep in his chest.

Sighing, you lift your head and find his gaze already waiting for you. You smile and nod. “Can we sit outside to look at the view?”

“Anythin’ you want, baby. C’mon,” Sy grins, giving your ass a gentle pat and placing his hand on your lower back to guide you into the diner. 

Only a few tables are occupied and you mentally try to match the vehicles outside to their owners. An older greying couple who are sipping coffee look like they’re travelling on the brand new BMW road bike. A younger guy who’s eating bacon and eggs seems the sort to ride the Yamaha. And another biker around Sy’s age, who sits reading the newspaper as he sips from a mug and smokes a cigarette, probably rode in on the other Harley. There are plenty of spare tables, so you don’t grab one immediately and instead walk inside the shop to order your food. Sy pays without a word, which you expected considering he told you to leave your purse at home, saying that you wouldn’t need it because it would only be a hassle on the bike.

You choose the picnic tables furthest from the building and closest to the uninterrupted view. Sy sits next to you instead of across like you would expect, perching astride the bench and drawing you between his legs, making you smile. When he says he can’t stop touching you, he really means it, unable to even eat without wanting you in his arms. You lay your head against his chest and he rests his chin on your crown and for a while you just sit and take in the view.

“Whatcha thinkin’, Sugar?”

You blink, a little caught off guard. “Nothing actually. For the first time in ages, I’m really not thinking about anything,” you shrug, “I’m just happy being here with you.”

He kisses the top of your head, “I can't tell you how good that makes me feel,” he says, “I want you to be happy. I want to be the one who makes you happy.”

“You do, Sy,” you reassure him. 

“Sugar, I–”

He’s interrupted by the friendly face of one of the wait staff placing your coffees and meals on the table. You return the teenager’s grin and detangle yourself from Sy.

“Thanks man,’ Sy tells him and the waiter barely has his back turned before he starts digging into his pancakes. 

“Hungry much?” you ask teasing.

“Starving,” Sy says around a mouthful of food, “all I had this mornin’ was coffee. I didn’t sit right with me to be digging through your kitchen lookin’ for food.”

“Well, tomorrow, feel free to help yourself to anything that's there.”

Sy slows down eating and asks slowly, “You want me to stay the night again?”

“Yeah,” you say somberly, “If you want to.”

“How long do you want me to stay?” His tone shifts, becoming stern and authoritative.

“As long as you want to,” you shrug and try to keep your voice casual, “you could stay the week if you want.”

“But what do you want?” Sy asks tersely.

You shove a fork full of waffle into your mouth, giving yourself some time to think. You know what you want, but you’re afraid it will be too much for him. He’s glaring at you, fork poised in the air as he waits for your reply. 

Fuck it, be honest.

“I want you to stay the week,” you say firmly.

Sy grins like the cat who ate the canary, “Come ‘ere,” he jerks his chin a little, before leaning in to meet you halfway. His lips taste sweet from the maple syrup and you both lick your lips when he pulls away.

You giggle a little and grab the front of his t-shirt to draw him back in for another kiss. Running your tongue over his lips you slide your hand over his thigh, your fingers skimming over his fly, and he moans into your mouth. You let him go and Sy just stares at you a moment, before blinking rapidly and shaking his head.

“God dammit, woman,” he growls under his breath. You grin wickedly as you keep eating and Sy chuckles. “You’re really are tryin’ to kill a man, ain’t ya?”

“So, you’ll stay the week?” you ask innocently.

Sy clears his throat, “Hell yeah I will. And then?”

“Then, I'll go back to work and you’ll go visit your family.”

He nods, becoming quiet while he finishes his short-stack, even the lustful glint in his eyes fades as the silence stretches between you. You believe that he has something more to say, but you follow his lead and keep eating. Eventually, he pushes away his empty plate with a satisfied groan and reaches for his coffee. You glance at him as he licks his lips and clears his throat.

“Have you given any thought about comin’ with me to meet my folks?” Sy asks. There’s a strange tone to his voice that you can’t quite place.

“I have to go back to work Sy,” you say gently, “it was tough enough getting this week off, I couldn’t ask for two.”

“I know baby, it’s just,” he pauses and takes your hand in his, “I don’t wanna leave you so soon. I wish ya could come with me for the whole week.”

“Yeah, me too” you sigh sadly.

“When will I get to meet your parents?” Sy asks eagerly.

“You really want to?”

“Yeah, I really do,” he notices your look and smiles, “What are you thinkin’, baby?”

You grin, “That you’re the first guy who actually wants to meet my father,” Sy chuckles and you continue, “You're probably the first one that isn’t scared too.”

He keeps smiling but doesn’t say anything as he takes a big gulp of his coffee. You mimic his movements, taking a few sips of the still warm brew in your mug while you think. 

Your family knows about Sy, they knew he was coming home and promised they’d leave you alone this week. Your mom had hinted that she’d like to meet him, while your Dad remained stoic about it, but your brother was adamant that he meet Sy sooner rather than later. 

Your brother's service had ended and he was home for good now, studying at the local college making the most of his tuition money. You lived about two hours away from both your parents and brother so it would only take a quick phone call to arrange for them to meet Sy.

“My parents have a Sunday lunch most weeks. I could see if my brother is free in a couple of weeks and we could have lunch together.”

“What about this Sunday?” Sy asks and you raise your eyebrows.

“I can ask,” you say and he grins. “You really do wanna meet them, don’t you?”

Sy hums and nods. He looks at your coffee and asks, “You finished?” You nod, and he sits up straight, stretching his back. “Walk with me?”

“Where?”

Sy points his chin across the road, “There’s a path down there that takes you to the proper lookout. Might be nice to have a looksee.”

Sy gets up and takes your hand, slipping his thick fingers between yours and curling them. He walks you across the road and you see the trail he’s talking about. The path is narrow but well travelled and when you approach the railing Sy comes to stand behind you, trapping you between the metal fencing and his hard body.

For a while you just stand there enjoying the view with Sy resting his chin on your shoulder. It's surprisingly quiet and even the noise of the road seems to have disappeared. 

“This is beautiful, Noah,” you say, softly. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Thank you for comin’,” he replies, then adds with a slightly sheepish tone, “I do have a confession to make.”

“Go on,” you say, smiling.

“It wasn’t just the guy's suggestion that made me want to bring ya out here. I thought about it a few times while I was on tour,” he chuckles, “not all of those thoughts were family friendly either.”

You giggle a little, then get serious, “Why here? What's so special about this place?”

“I don’t know,” Sy says, “I thought about so many places I want to take you, dates and stuff, but this one kept comin’ back to me.” He chuffs, “Sometimes when we’d talk on the phone, I’d close my eyes and imagine us standing here like this, havin’ that same conversation,” he moves closer, pressing his whole body against yours, “I’d imagine what your face would look like when you’d speak, looking so beautiful while looking at something so beautiful.”

Sy insists that he isn’t romantic, but he truly is, it’s there in his soul, and you can feel it.

“I thought about all the things I wanted to say to you, and all the things I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me,” he continues, and you feel his eyes burning into you. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d think about what you’d look like standing here with me and I’d think about all those things I wanted you to know.”

You turn your head towards his voice, and you were right, he is staring at you with those bright azure eyes. You concentrate on the slash of umber in his left while you swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Will you tell me now?” you ask softly.

“Don’t need to, I've already said it all. I couldn’t keep it in,” he says in a low hoarse tone. He rubs his hand over the top of your arm, “You’re my everything. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. And every moment since then, I’ve only fallen deeper.”

“How are you so sure?”

“‘Cause with you, I want things I ain’t ever wanted before,” his hand slides over your belly, “I think about things I’ve never thought before. You make me feel things I never thought I’d feel.”

“Do you ever worry that it won’t work?”

“I used to, but not anymore, not since…” Sy stops and dips his head into your neck, “not for months.” He kisses your neck softly, and his next words are a little muffled, “Sugar, we got through the hardest part. We weren’t even together when I left, but we made it work, through all of that.”

“It’ll be harder when you leave again, and—”

“Baby, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Your brows raise in surprise. “I mean, I may get transferred, but my time in group is over, I’m getting a staff position.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you only get about three years leading a team, then you’re promoted, or moved to staff or teaching. I had thought about droppin’ my commission and stayin’ in group— but not anymore.”

“I’m confused.”

“I'm sorry, I keep forgetting that you don’t know about these things, cause it's different than what you’re used to with your dad and brother. I’m going to be on staff, I’ll work with command, mostly on base, which should keep me stateside. I am up for promotion soon and I think I’m likely to get it despite all the shit— well, I should get it.”

“And what if they transfer you to a new base?”

“It's probable, and we can talk about that during the transfer period. But let me put it this way, baby— I want you with me, wherever I go.” His brows draw together as he looks at you, and seeing your blank focus he sighs, “You still don't get it do you?”

You shrug a little and shake your head. You think you know how he feels, but part of you still doesn’t believe how things have changed so much between you in the last 24 hours. Yesterday you were just so relieved to have him back safe and to touch him again, that you've barely thought beyond the here and now. And despite the things he’s said to you, you know that you haven't been able to fully process his words.

Sy lifts eyes and looks out over the valley, stoically thinking through what he wants to say before he speaks. Eventually he swallows hard and asks, “You know how you hear those stories where the first time a guy sees a woman he immediately thinks to himself, ‘I’m gonna marry her some day’?”

“Yeah,” you say, unsure of where this is going. Sy drops his gaze to yours, his eyebrows lifting infinitesimally, and you suddenly realise what he's trying to convey. “Holy shit,” you exclaim, covering your mouth.

“Yeah,” Sy chuckles, “That’s exactly what I thought the first time you smiled at me, Sugar. Surprised the fuck outta me too.”

He keeps a small grin on his lips, but he licks them anxiously, and his eyes won’t stay on yours as he runs a hand over his short hair. He’s nervous, you realise, so you lift your hand to his cheek and smile reassuringly at him. 

Sy lets out a long breath and he forces himself to keep his eyes on yours as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a set of dog tags. “I’ve thought of about a million different ways to show ya how much you mean to me. I even went—” Sy shakes his head and his Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, “In the end… these are what I wanted to give you.”

You look at the tags as he places them in your hand and bite your lip. You know what this gesture could mean. These aren't just a token that he carried with him on tour, it's all of his personal information; his full name, social security number, blood type, and his religion. You run your thumb over the stamped letters: Syverson, Noah H., O positive, No Preference. 

“I don’t mean for you to wear ‘em or anythin’,” Sy says, “I just want you to have them. I wanted to give ya somethin’ that I had with me out there, cause… I won’t ever forget what ya did for me while I was gone.”

You look at him as you blink back tears, your throat is so tight you can barely speak, “Sy, I don’t know what to say.”

He chuckles, “Baby, you always know what to say.”

There is something you want to say, but you're afraid it’ll be too much, too fast. Sy’s eyes bore into yours, like he can see into the deepest parts of your soul, and it surprises you that you don't mind this intrusion.

“Say it,” he urges softly. His hand cupping your neck while he wraps an arm around your waist. His brows draw together and raise, his forehead wrinkles like he’s pleading with you. 

“I love you, Noah.” 

Sy curses, murmuring your name as his head drops. You think maybe you’ve fucked up, misread this whole thing, but then his mouth is on yours. His kiss is voracious, ferocious, and he crushes you so firmly against his body that you feel as though he’s trying to consume you, trying to meld the two of you together so you’ll never come apart.

Then he stops as suddenly as he started. His hands cup your cheeks again and he makes you look at him. “You really mean it don’t you? You wouldn’t say it if ya didn’t mean it, right?”

You smile and pull his head down until it rests on yours. “I love you,” you reiterate, “I wouldn’t say it if I didn't mean it.”