stands_for_hope | Superman, Firebrand, and the Metropolis Gang in... the World's Mightiest Duckling

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house of am

Superman, Firebrand, and the Metropolis Gang in... the World's Mightiest Duckling

[continued from here]

It took a few weeks, but soon enough, the apartment had become an entirely settled little commune between the five of them. Steve's things had arrived as Clint had promised, they'd been installed in the new apartment, and the group had made the changes they'd discussed for everyone's comfort with one addition: with Steve bunking with Jim, the room he'd initially intended to take had become a general office/library/art room for everyone to use when they felt like a bit of time alone. For as silly as the concept sounded, all of them had ended up using the room a time or two and it had definitely kept things peaceful despite the addition of two new people.

Considering that the apartment was home to four superheroes and a world-famous journalist, it was amazing how easily they all fell into a routine. Jim, Lois, and Clark would usually leave for work around the same time and Steve, always an early riser, had taken to making them something to munch for breakfast on the way after he returned from his morning run. Having also gotten a position at the community center (teaching kids art and art history), Steve would leave with Diana an hour or so after that. Everyone filtered back into the apartment at different times and whoever was feeling up to cooking would usually start dinner when they got in. If no one was feeling up cooking, one of the two 'old' men would treat takeout.

Today, however, Jim's site was currently closed for due to an issue with the plumbing contractors and some unfortunate flooding that had occurred overnight. That was why Clark texted Jim and invited him to come visit he and Lois at the Daily Planet offices and go out for lunch together.

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Steve's hands moved then, wrapping around Jim's waist and behind his head, tugging him down for a kiss as his hips rocked up against Jim's. Sparks flew behind his eyes and every nerve in his body was singing.

The kiss Jim gave him was the one he'd been holding back. Hot, deep, claiming. Conscious thought was gone. All he could do was act, and his actions said to kiss, to touch, to move with how Steve's hips moved and God it was so good. His pulse was thundering in his ears and that was just fine. Confirmation that this was real.

His hand slid from Steve's waist, up and over his chest and half-dragging the shirt with it, up to the side of his neck, into his hair, and down, following that same trail until he was kneading Steve's thigh, half-pulling until Steve's knee was hooked over his hip.

Steve did the rest of the work, wrapping his leg around Jim and using the other to brace himself. There was a half a second to hate the fact that his undershirt was still on, but a moment's scrambling with one hand had it tugged off (with perhaps a rip or two). The material was tossed away and then his focus was entirely on Jim, where it belonged. On kissing Jim, rocking in time to Jim's movements. To keeping his sanity while Jim's scent was deep in his nose, the taste of his mouth filling him up, prompting a moan he hadn't even realized he could make.

He was in love, he was in lust, he was in heaven.

It struck him then. Steve hadn't done this before. Steve hadn't had the chance to feel someone else's hands on him, someone else's skin--

He moaned of his own accord and hurriedly stripped off his own shirt, giving skin to skin, giving Steve one more sensation to add to the experience. "Just right, Steve," he encouraged. "C'mon..."

There was no chance he was going to stop moving, not when everything felt so perfect. But he did move his mouth from Steve's over to the ear he'd neglected, this time setting his teeth down just enough to give the feeling of hard, slick teeth against delicate skin.

The second Jim's teeth touched his ear, he knew he was done for. When the teeth came down, his hips rocked up and his vision blinked out at the force of the sensation. He made a noise, he knew he'd made a noise, and he'd meant to be shouting Jim's name, but there was no telling what'd come out of his mouth other than something strangled and desperate and rather guttural.

He was shivering but he stopped moving, knowing that after something like that, sensations could become painful. He wouldn't do that to Steve. Jim gathered him close instead, holding him and kissing him - his cheeks, his forehead, smiling with the satisfaction of knowing he'd done that. He'd made that magnificent sound come out of Steve's mouth. "That's my Stevie..."

He was shaking but that was okay, because there were arms around him and Jim was kissing him and grinning like a cat that'd gotten--

Oh, he had just enough of a mind to realize, that's awful. New direction.

He was, apparently, nodding because yes, he was Jim's Stevie, and yes, yes, he was all right. Shaking from the intensity of everything but all right and content and loved--

"Love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered. "More than anything in the world. And that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

He ached, but it would fade. Steve was more important, and he needed to tend to him, to gently stroke his hair, his shoulders, his back - bring him back down from the height he'd just reached.

Those words practically made him glow, the smile so bright. But after a moment, Steve's hand reached out,a little clumsy but still gentle, and found Jim's hip. He breathed a few times before finally looking up at Jim again.

"You all right?"

His eyes drifted closed at the touch, breath hitching. That, he'd not expected - but God it was nice. God, the things he'd imagined about Steve's hands... "M'okay," he whispered. "You don't have to..."

He wanted him to. He wanted it so bad, but he wasn't going to force anything.

But he was Steve Rogers. And if someone could be bullheaded after a mind-blowing orgasm, it was him.

"C'mere," he said as his hand drifted down, reaching a little further.

"Of course I want to."

Steve was about a thousand times more religious than he was, but in that moment, he was sending thanks to God. Moaning, he nodded, slid his hand up Steve's arm, and finally managed to whisper, "Okay. Okay. Please..."

His tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips. They needed it. He was too aroused to manage breathing through his nose just now.

It took a bit of shifting, and Steve had to shake off a bit of the fog, but after a moment, he was able to get Jim into a position where he could slip a hand into his boxers and nuzzle against the side of his neck. That was nice, very nice, and soon enough he was pressing kisses and nibbling faintly at the skin there while he wrapped his hand around Jim and gave him a first, careful stroke.

"Shit, Steve..." Reflexively, his arms tightened around him. He'd had his share of handjobs, but it really did make so much of a difference for this one to be from someone he loved. From someone he wanted to make happy. Just that one touch and he hardened where he'd flagged, hips rocking into Steve's hand, unconscious of the light blush spreading over his own upper chest.

Steve dipped in and started to kiss along his jaw as his hand squeezed a little, finding a rhythm that matched the placement of kisses, the measured breaths he took, and familiar, well-worn memories that he'd never speak of but could no sooner forget than his own name. Half-lidded eyes flickered up at Jim, the fringe of his lashes fluttering against his cheek when he dipped close to kiss and nothing but wisps of air when he leaned back to speak.

"You... this... this has always been one of my dreams."

He nodded, having to stop and breathe before he could answer - but even that wasn't a guarantee. It'd been so long since he'd felt like this. "Mh, me too. Your hands, Steve... Used to imagine."

Those eyes. Those eyelashes. He'd told Steve what that did to him and now he was only able to stare and feel.

His other hand slid up Jim's leg, feather soft touches and careful exploration. He gave one last stroke before starting to run his fingers along the skin, his thumb running a line up the underside, letting Jim feel not just a grasping fist but his hand: the brush of a knuckle, the soft skin at the sides of his fingers, the calloused pads. He took his time, the control returning to his limbs, the strength filtering back into his muscles, but the heat utterly failing to dissipate. Jim was here, in a bed with him, beautiful and wanting and his, and this too was as amazing, as novel, as everything else.

And he was moving with each of those little touches, sliding himself against those fingers, savoring every touch. It wasn't exactly what he imagined, but it wasn't so far off that he didn't know despite his eyes being caught on Steve's. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you... All yours, Steve."

He didn't even have to think about it. Giving himself over felt like something he'd already done but had never put words to.

Steve leaned in and took his mouth in a kiss before getting his hand around him again: movement, long firm strokes and smooth, sweet kisses.

He couldn't speak, his mouth was too busy, but it was in his eyes, in every kiss, in every touch, in the arm squeezing around Jim and the nuzzle of his chin. Jim was loved.

It didn't take a terribly long time, but it was a time that Jim spent gasping and moaning when his mouth wasn't on Steve's hungrily. His fingers pressed hard into Steve's back when his orgasm hit and he shuddered into every pulse, breath caught in his throat.

As it passed, he relaxed into a nearly boneless lump, nestled against Steve with unthinking content.

Steve was glad he'd had it happen first, if only because he knew what to do, knew what it felt like and how intense it was. He shifted a little to curl around Jim, pet his back, carefully ease him back down, and kiss him.

"I've got you. I've got you, Jim."

"Oh God that's different," he exhaled in one gust, curling up close to Steve's chest. He'd not done that, even to himself, since Hydra had gotten to him. Now he was glad. That kind of sensation wasn't something he wanted to experience alone.

"You all right?"

The same words with a very different context but the same need to know. Everything they'd done had been... well, it'd been leagues and bounds past anything he'd expected and more than a few miles past where his experience left off. While he was flying blind, he felt all right about it. Nothing like a good co-pilot to keep you settled.

"Mmhm." He nodded, arms gentle but holding on. "Are you? I... I grabbed your back pretty hard..." The thought of it was beautiful, even if the consequences could make him cringe. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Steve in any way.

Blink. He twisted a little to look back before shaking his head.

"I'm fine."

...he was reasonably certain he might have a bruise there for the rest of the night, but it'd be gone by morning and with the endorphins running through his system at the moment, he couldn't feel a thing beyond a faint tension.

He pecked a kiss to Jim's hair.

"I'm... not really feeling anything but good right now."

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