Chapter Text
You stirred uncomfortably in your seat. The time was 7:30 pm. At any moment now Steve Rogers would come for his weekly appointment. While you were happy to help those, who required it especially in these times of chaos, you always felt anxious about having the therapy sessions with the Captain America and not just because he was a handsome superhuman avenger.
He wasn't the sweet, courteous gentleman that you had heard him to be. The battle lost against Thanos had deeply affected him. The frustration and the anger were justified. But you were starting to worry that you weren't capable of helping him and that being around him wasn't safe anymore. You wished you could make it better for him. But therapy won't work for someone who wouldn't let it. You didn't even know why he came to you.
Five minutes later the door to your office knocked. You weren't ready. Yet, you stood up and went to answer the door.
Steve had the usual cold and empty expression that he wore in your therapy sessions. It always surprised you just how large and bulky that man is. You were like a tiny insect in front of him and he could swat you like one too.
"Good evening, Steve. Come in," you greeted him with a fake but soft smile.
Steve didn't say anything. He just stepped inside and headed straight towards the black leather chair, designated for the patients, which was kept near two big book shelves. It seemed like he just wanted to get it over with. You closed the door behind yourself and followed Steve to the sitting area.
"Had a rough day?" You asked.
He arched a brow at you as if you had said something utterly stupid.
"When is it a good a day?" He replied.
You cocked your head in agreement. You could feel his eyes fixed on you as you opened the bottle of wine kept on a small table beside your chair.
"Maybe this can help?" You offered.
Steve eyed the bottle of wine warily and then refused like he always did. You closed the bottle, opting not to drink any yourself if he won't. You finally sat down in your seat, crossed your legs, placed your notepad on your lap and faced him.
"Is there anything else you like to drink? You always refuse the wine. Maybe I can get you what you want in the next session," you suggested.
"I don't think I am here to get drunk, doctor. Besides alcohol does not work on me since after I took the serum. Thanks anyway," he said, plainly.
"Oh, that’s too bad. It helps to calm the patients. Get them more open about themselves. Just a little bit of liquid courage," you told him.
Steve sighed before he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His fingers crossed in front of him.
"Well, I am as honest I can be, as I want to be with you. Doesn't seem to work, does it?"
He was agitated as usual, you noted. It hurt you a bit. Not being able to help a patient had negative effects on you as well.
"Maybe you are not letting it work," you answered him.
Steve scoffed at you. He passed you an icy glare.
"So you think I am the problem?"
You bit your lip. Tension stirred in your veins. You didn't want to offend him. You gave a him soft look.
"If you think I am, then you can always look for other therapists. I personally can refer you to some of the best therapists all over America," you said, hoping he'd agree to that.
But the ‘no’ came from his mouth quicker than you had expected it to. You resisted the urge to sigh. He was becoming more and more difficult to treat.
Steve shook his head as he leaned back on his chair.
"I have already told you so much. I cannot go through all of this all over again," Steve said, sternly.
You nodded. "I understand, but therapy is supposed to help you. If you think I am not able to help you then what's the point of all this?"
Steve let out a chuckle. He turned his head away from you and bit his index finger. He was holding an explosion inside of him and you could see it from his face. You hated that you weren't able to help him.
"The point is that my colleagues, my friends and my fellow Avengers or what's left of them think that therapy can help me as it helps them. But honestly, I don't think anyone can help me," he blurted.
You listened patiently even though you were already aware of what he said. Steve turned his face back to you. There was a hint of desperation and helplessness in his eyes. You almost pitied him.
"And you know that the problem is not just what happened at Wakanda anymore. They think that it's just that. But you know it isn't." He was getting tense.
You leaned forward in your seat.
"It is heavily connected to what happened at Wakanda though, Steve. It is the root of the problem," you tried to make him understand.
Steve grinned at you out of the blue. It made you uneasy no matter the fact that the grin was attached to this ungodly handsome man.
"If it is like that then you certainly cannot help me. I am doomed!" he said and proceeded to laugh at himself.
"Steve, it wasn't your fault, not in your control-"
"Don't tell me that! I am sick of hearing that!" He stomped a booted foot on the floor beneath him as he spoke.
You almost jumped from your seat. The milky skin on his face had gone red and his pretty blue irises were going darker too. You stole a quick glance at the wall clock. Much of the time was remaining to your disappointment. You knew it made you a bad therapist to think like that. But you tried your best.
"Steve, you have to let me-"
"Doctor, you need to let me tell you what the problem is. I already know what you have to say about Wakanda, about Thanos. But what do you have to say about when I say that I cannot stop thinking about these violent urges, about hurting people, innocent people," Steve said through gritted teeth.
You took a deep breath in and tried to sound as sensitive and calm as you could.
"Steve, you are not a psychopath, you are not evil. The frustration, the anger, the stress, the trauma, it’s all boiling up inside you. You need to let it out. That is where I come in. You can talk to me. I can suggest you so many ways to help you with that," you urged him.
"Oh, please. Save it. I tried, it doesn't help. I am beyond that now. The more the days go by, the more I think about it, the more I want to actually do it. I cannot stop thinking about it."
Steve shifted continuously in his seat. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. You worried for him.
"What about the other side of you that does not want you to do it?"
He clicked his tongue and rubbed his hands together. You saw his Adam's apple bob up and down. Then he cleared his throat and clapped his hands.
"Well, that is what I am trying to tell you." His voice came out low and hoarse. "The good part of me, the old me, might not want it. That was before. But I want it now. I think, I mean I know that it will make me feel good like nothing else will."
You nodded your head, showing him that you understand him.
"Your urge is just growing more and more. You will have to find another outlet for all that aggression inside you or else you might do something you will regret, Steve."
Steve bellowed into the air. He slapped his hands onto his face and then ran his hands fingers through his moist dirty blonde hair. You became restless as well.
"I don't think I care about regretting it anymore. I don't see the point of it. I have already lost everything I could," he told you.
You could feel the heart break in his voice. You wanted to help. You licked your lips and refocused yourself on the therapy.
"I see. Steve, let's talk about your thoughts. What do you think about? How far have your fantasies grown?"
His pupils dilated. He straightened his back and fixed his eyes on you. The agitation seemed to have dulled in him. There was an unsettling calm in him. Steve was interested now.
"It’s not just about random people anymore. Not just an ignorant, rude passer-by or a waiter who can't do his job properly. I have started becoming more specific with my urge," Steve started. One of his legs shook furiously as he went through his thoughts.
"The who has become more specific I assume," you added.
"And the what too," Steve said.
"And does it bother you when you have those fantasies?"
Steve shook his head slowly. His stared at the floor between you two.
"At the beginning maybe, because I sometimes imagined people close to me. I cannot hurt them. I didn't feel good about that. I didn't want to hurt random people too. But then my fantasy became more focused on someone, someone I am not afraid to hurt," Steve explained.
He locked his gaze on you. You could stare into the darkness behind his cold blue eyes. Your blood turned into ice at the horrifying yet foreseen realization. This had happened to you before. But you had never felt so afraid and vulnerable before.
"And that someone is?" You asked, wanting him to put it into words himself.
Steve's lips twitched for a moment and he averted his eyes from you. A slight sign of hesitation. You still had faith in the good man inside him. He straightened his back and hunched his shoulders. He looked at you again, boldly this time.
"You," he answered with confidence.
Chills went down your spine. But you kept your expression straight. You accepted the answer. The wrinkling of his forehead displayed the surprise he felt from your lack of reaction.
"It is not uncommon for patients to want to attack their therapists. It's not the first time this has happened to me either," you informed him in a professional manner, hiding all signs of panic.
Steve was amused by your calmness. He had expected more from you. He wanted more from you.
"Yes, but it would be the first time that you'd be completely incapable of defending yourself from a patient. Calling for help would be completely useless too. No one will be able to save you from me," he said, more like threatened.
Steve smirked at you.
There was a dull ache at the back of your throat. Your whole body went stiff. You couldn't think of what to say or do next for a moment. Steve observed the paleness of your face and the evident fear in your eyes. Desperate for escape, you turned your head towards the wall clock that showed that your session was nearly over with him. But before you could open your mouth Steve interrupted you.
"No. No looking at the clock. Our session isn't over until I say it is over," he imposed.
You tried to argue him again, but he stopped you that time too.
"Steve, just listen to me, please," you tried a third time and thankfully he let you speak. "Our sessions have outrun their capacity to help you. I am sorry but I can do nothing more for you than referring you to another, better psychiatrist who will definitely be able to make things better for you."
Steve simply glared at you. He had no interest in your suggestion. He only let you make a petty attempt to make him leave so that you won't do that again.
"Doctor (y/n), I have made it clear that I don't want any other therapists or psychiatrist and it would be better for you not to press me too much on that. I come here to talk to you, I pay you to talk and listen to me and you will do exactly that," he said, harshly.
You could see that his anger was getting out of control and arguing with him any further would just result in him being more provoked to make his fantasies come true. Instead, you decided to do what you did. Talk to him. You forced yourself not to panic and settle down.
"Okay, Steve. We will talk and we will find a solution. Let's start with your fantasies about hurting me. You said that it used to be random people, then the people who were close to you and then finally me. How did you choose me, Steve?" You put your therapist persona back on.
Steve rubbed his hand on a thigh and gave it a thought as he scratched his chiselled chin.
"That is a good question," he said. "Uh, I think you are a decent person. A fairly nice person with good intentions. But we didn't meet on a positive note. I didn't want to come here I was forced to. And I absolutely hate to hear you talk on and on about me, my stress, my anger, my fear as if you know anything about the world or what I have faced just because you got a PhD in psychiatry. That is bullshit. You are just a kid. You don't have the slightest clue of how it feels to carry the burden of billions of lives, of my friends on my shoulder and then just losing it all. The impact it has on me. You don't know. You barely even lost the people important to you! Still you keep blabbering on and in, saying dumb stuff, thinking that it'll help me. And all the while the only thing that I can think of is how do I get you to shut your fucking mouth and give you a piece of reality!" Steve growled.
The sting to your pride as a therapist and as a person was battled by the fear caused by his outright confession of wanting to hurt you. You swallowed your pride and listened like a professional. Although your faith your ability to help had started to fade.
"I-I see. I am acting as a stressor for you. Obviously, my therapy is failing to work on you. I am sorry for that, but-"
"You're not only a stressor, but you have become an outlet for me. Thinking about hurting you has helped me with much of my held in frustration and aggression. You distract me. Thinking about hurting you feels good. It makes me calm," Steve explained with delight.
It was the highest amount of positive emotion you had ever seen in him.
"How does it make you feel good? The feeling of overpowering another life? Does it make you feel like you are back in control?"
Steve nodded slowly as his eyes ran down the length of your body. You found yourself pulling down the hem of your dress instinctively.
"Maybe," he answered. "Now I don't know if I should say this, but you are my therapist and I am supposed to tell you everything right?"
"Yes."
There was a sort of excitement that you could see in him by the way he began to smile. You had a bad feeling about what he was going to say to you.
"It, uh, it sorts of gives me a sexual high. I jerk off to those thoughts about you," he confessed, fervently.
Again, you wouldn't say that you didn't see it coming. Steve didn't disgust you. You could understand what was happening and why it was happening to him. But you knew that it was time for you two to not be in the same room anymore.
Your nails dug into the leather of your chair as you thought of ways to get him to leave and go to another doctor. Being with you wouldn't do him any good.
Steve observed the way you squirmed in your seat. You couldn't tell if he was disappointed or pleased with your reaction.
"Isn't it most girls' wet dream to be fucked by me? Aren't you one of those girls, Doctor (y/n)?" His voice was soft yet cocky.
You wondered how long it'd take for your anxiety and nervousness to take over you completely. It was getting harder to keep acting steady with each passing second. If things had been normal you would have been head over heels for the devilishly handsome super soldier. Unfortunately, a man like Steve wouldn't have even batted an interested eye at you had things been like they were before. But even with the whirlwind forming inside of you, you knew panicking is not going to help. You swallowed the knot forming in your throat and maintained a firm expression.
"Would you rather I be the girl with the wet dream about you or the one without it?" Your voice came out thinner than your liking.
Steve raised his brows at you. You had certainly intrigued him judging by the way his whole face glimmered at you. He leaned forward. Flicks of his hair fell beautifully over his forehead and eyes, yet somehow managed to make him appear more menacing.
"It won't matter to me," he said, bluntly.
"Either way I would only want to hurt you. If you had a wet dream then I'd make it a nightmare," he whispered, but you could still hear his words loud and clear.
There was no hint of guilt or remorse in the way he talked about you. That was not a good thing at all. The great Captain had become comfortable with his unholy ideas. The situation had officially gone out of your hands. You could only wish that he wouldn't make his fantasies come true right then.
You exhaled a large amount of air as you closed the notepad on your lap and placed it on the side table. You collected all the courage you had in yourself and decided to be firm with him.
"Steve," you began, pressing your palms together in front of you. "We had good a session today. It was very informative and I got to have deeper insight of what was happening in your mind. I think it's more than enough for today. You should go home and give yourself some rest. It's getting late too."
You waited for him to say something or do something. But Steve didn't do anything. Whatever you said had no effect on him. So, you stood up first. Steve stood up too. His height and built were gigantic compared to your own small self.
"Sit back down," he ordered as he took a threatening step towards you.
"I said sit back down!" He shouted at you when you didn't listen.
Scared more than ever, you dropped back in your leather seat. Your breathing became laboured. You scrambled for words but nothing came out of your mouth. Your professional expertise was failing you.
"After all these days of boring, fruitless talking, I am finally interested in sharing myself with you. And what kind of therapist would you be to not let your patient speak when they want to?" He asked as he treaded slowly towards you.
You took a deep breath and gulped. You realized that you were trapped with him now. Maybe you could still try to talk yourself out of it. But it'd be foolish of you to think that you have any control over the situation anymore. Nonetheless, you played the part that he wanted you to play.
"If you want to talk then I will listen for sure. J-just please take your seat, Steve," you said while pointing at the leather chair with a trembling hand.
Steve grinned at your instability and shook his head with disapproval.
"I'd rather stand," he told you and continued to step towards the desk area of your office. "But you will sit," he added.
You shrunk into the chair and folded your hands over your chest. Your eyes had become wet without you noticing and you had to force back the tears.
You took another deep breath before you asked, "So, what do you want to talk about?"
Steve was examining the contents of your desk. Normally you'd be offended by such behaviour. He scanned through your drawers and with a flash you remembered that you had taser tucked away in one of the drawers. It was only for precaution and you never had to use ever since you bought it. If only you had thought about it earlier. Now you could only wish that Steve doesn't find it. It won't be good to have a taser in the hand of the man who gets off from the idea of torturing you.
You thought he hadn't heard you but he had. He just took a few seconds to reply.
"Me and you, of course," he answered.
Even though it was your job to listen to people, you didn't want hear more about that. You cannot help a patient when you could hardly help yourself.
"Will t-talking about that be therapeutic for you or do you just want to torment me?" You forced yourself to ask, knowing fully well the answer to that question.
Steve paused his checking of your desk's drawers and have you an evil stare. If anyone else could see him right now with his scary eyes and treacherous grin, no one would say that this was man was once the gallant and gentle Captain America. Now he just had the title, but no resemblance to that name.
"Tormenting you would be therapeutic," he said through the wide grin.
"You think it will be, you hope it will be, but it won't be, I can assure you of that Steve. Once you go through with it things will only get worse. The regret, the remorse would be unbearable," you tried to make him see.
You heard him chuckle from behind the desk. He was hidden from your view by it so you could only hear his voice now and see the tuft of his silky hair.
"That is where you make a mistake, (y/n). I don't think I will feel any of that. I have thought a lot about it and I don't think I can feel any worse than I already do. Ah! Here it is!"
Your eyes widened with fear when you saw him rise up with the taser in his hand.
"I figured you'd have something like this here somewhere since it's not uncommon for patients to think like me."
You cupped your mouth immediately, muffling the gasp. Don't panic, don't panic, you told yourself. You eyed the door and calculated your chance of successfully running out of your office and then to your car before Steve catches up.
"You won't even make it to the door," Steve said quickly as if he had read your mind.
You snapped your head at him and watched him toss the taser in his hands playfully as he came towards you.
"Steve," you squeaked," I am your therapist and I give you my word that it won't feel good!"
"Not to you," he said before he switched the taser on to test it.
The crackling electric sound sent bolts down your spine. Your thinking was dishevelled and your judgement clouded. You couldn't control the urge to run anymore. Without thinking you dashed for the door. You had barely made it across half of the room before his hand grabbed you by the middle of your body and tossed you back at your chair. You fell on the floor with a thud, your back hitting the chair. All of your balance was lost. The side table shook from the impact and the wine bottle fell near you, breaking into numerous shards.
Before you could make another move, Steve was standing over you. His legs positioned at each side of your body. You were caged. Your heart ached and your stomach churned. Tears spilled from your eyes. Your hands shook as you raised them in defence.
"I haven't even done anything yet," Steve said as he sank to his knees.
You pressed your back against the chair to create as much distance as you cold between you two. Your eyes darted back and forth from the taser in his left hand and the muscled expanse of his chest that you were directly facing.
"P-please Steve, you don't have to do this. You don't have to," you begged in a shaky voice.
"Oh, but I have to (y/n)," Steve whispered as he brought his free hand near your face and caressed your cheek with it.
You whimpered and pulled away from his touch even though you couldn't get far away. In response he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and forced you stay still beneath him. Your lips quivered as you tried to form words with them.
"I-I am just your therapist, S-Steve. I-I haven't d-done anything bad. I don't deserve this," you tried to reason.
His nails dug in the back of your neck, making you wince, as he brought himself closer to your face.
"Why don't you understand that I don't care? Huh?"
You stared at him, fearfully.
"And you know what the best part is? No one cares. Not about you. No one gives a fuck in today's world. And I am Captain America. I will get out of this without consequences." Steve almost pressed his forehead to yours and continued," I will take what I want and then I'll go back to fighting and saving the world."
You were stunned by his speech. It was blunt and left you feeling even more helpless than before. You tried not to break down as Steve stared directly into your eyes up close. There was a silence between you two in which only your heavy, laboured breathing could be heard. Your breasts heaved up and down almost brushing against his chest. The close proximity of you two suffocated you.
His eyes shamelessly dropped down to your cleavage. The hand on your neck snaked over to your chest. You tensed up. A sob caught in your throat.
"I was about to tell you what I do to you in my fantasies, but...," he started in a low-pitched voice as he cupped his hand around your breast.
You could feel the warmth and sweat come off of it through the thin fabric of your blue dress.
"...you kept interrupting me. So, now I think, I can show you instead, right?"
He squeezed and you gasped. You made a laughable attempt to pull off his hand of you. His grip was like iron.
"S-Steve, please don't. You are better than this. I know you are!"
"You do? Then I guess I'll have to change that," he taunted.
You suddenly felt the cold and sharp touch of the taser's pointy electrodes on the skin of your arm. You jerked your hand away from it. Steve laughed darkly at you. He pressed the taser at the base of your neck, letting the electrodes pinch through your skin. You wanted to get away but you couldn't. There was no space to move. The more your wriggled and squirmed the more he dug it in you.
"Don't move," he ordered. "I won't hesitate to use this."
You shook your head at him. Yet it was hard to keep yourself still when he resumed his assault on you. He dragged the taser down to your other breast and circled it around your already hardened nipple. You through your head back on the chair to avoid facing him. Your eyes brimmed with tears.
Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck. Soft lips and a hot wet tongue bothered you at first but then came his teeth. His hand kneaded your breasts without holding back while he continued brushing the taser along your body. Your hushed cries had no meaning to him. You cursed your fate and your inability to fight him. There was no chance you could take on the super soldier.
From the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of the broken pieces of the wine bottle scattered just beside you. The liquid had seeped into the carpet beneath you had reminded you of it. A small flicker of hope lit in your heart. Maybe, just maybe you could use a stab him with one of the glass pieces. It might be enough to get him distracted while you make a run for your life. You slid your hand slowly through the wet carpet, careful of not making too much movement so as to not alert Steve. Him being busy nipping at your neck and chest made it easier for you to get one of the shards in your hand. Your heart throbbed harder than before, now with the added fear of getting caught and the harsh consequences that might follow.
You thought about calculating your chance of successfully hurting him. You didn't have too much hope for it. But you couldn't just sit there and take it. Without thinking any further you swung piece of glass towards his thigh.
It all happened too quickly. Steve detached himself from you. The shard was slapped away from your hand. The realization had barely registered in your mind when Steve pressed the taser just below your breasts. He looked into your eyes with anger.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said.
And then you were consumed by a world of pain. Shocks spasmed through your whole body. All of your muscles cramped in the most horrible way possible. You crashed sideways on the floor.
"Oh God!" You wailed.
It was the worst thing you had experienced yet. Your body was sore and sensitive even after the shocks had worn off.
Steve stood by your body, basking in your pain. Your scream, your expressions, everything hit all the right buttons in him. His cock stirred in his black jeans and Steve's hand automatically went down to palm it through the fabric. That image didn't make things any easier on you.
You laid on your stomach, panting and waiting for the pain to subside before you could try to raise yourself. Steve came in and kicked you over to your back.
"That was beautiful to watch," he commented, happily.
You eyed him with caution as you raised yourself on your elbows and started scooting backwards. Steve bent down and wrapped his hand around your right calf. He pulled you back in a rough motion. You kicked and thrashed your legs as Steve crawled in between them, forcing your thighs apart.
"No!"
You struggled harder to get away from him or to push him away from you. Anything to create a distance. You had only managed to scratch his face with your nails just once, but you were sure it must have been a feather touch to him. You didn't even see any red lines forming on his white skin.
Your nails might not have hurt Steve but they did give him a reason to hurt you. He immediately retaliated by giving you a good slap that made your vision blur for a few moments. The movements of your body had also seized. You could hear a loud ringing in your ear. That whole cheek burned red. In your moment of haze Steve took both of your hands together and pinned them above your head with his left hand.
"Looks like I gotta tase you again, huh?" Steve spoke into your ear.
You whimpered and wriggled when you felt the sharp electrodes on your inner thigh. You madly shook your head at him.
"N-no, please. I'm sorry," you cried.
The taser travelled up your thigh and in between your legs. You trembled and pleaded him through tearful eyes. A satisfied grin drew on his face as he watched the terror unfold and intensify in your eyes.
"It'll be fun," he said.
The head of the taser pressed up against your clothed vulva. You screwed your eyes shut and braced yourself for the shocks. A few seconds passed by but the anticipated jolts of electricity didn't come. Hesitantly you opened your eyes to find Steve frozen in his position. He was looking down at you with a grin plastered on his face. He was toying with you.
"As much as I would love to, I will not tase you if you keep those fucking claws to yourself, understand?" He asked.
It was hard to catch the meaning of what he said at first given the state of mind that you were in. But his words became clearer when he once again shoved the taser in between your legs and growled, "Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes!" You squealed.
"Good," Steve said as he released your wrists from his hold.
You could feel the blood rushing back into your numb wrists and hands. You couldn't have attacked him with them even if you wanted to. While you were rubbing your reddened wrists to soothe them Steve had put the taser away.
He was quick to come back to his original intention, taking no time to get his hands back on your body. Steve hooked his fingers in the cleavage of your dress and ripped the whole of it off in one go. You didn't even get the time to respond to that with a scream or a whimper. But you did try to cover yourself with your arms when Steve tried to come for your bra.
"Hands to yourself," he reminded you as he slapped your arms away.
Soon you felt his warm skin wrapped all around your bare breasts. The touch could have felt good if he meant it to. But he was only here for his own pleasure. You turned your head away from him and cried silently to yourself.
One of his hands detached themselves from your globes only to travel down to your nether regions. You couldn't prevent your thighs from squeezing themselves around the Captain's forearm. Little did that matter to him. He opened your legs to his convenience very easily and tore your panties away just like he did your dress. Your whole body was burning with shame.
The cool air of the room only brushed on your core momentarily as Steve cupped it whole with his large hand. Your body allowed his long fingers to slide smoothly across the sensitive skin.
"You are wet, doctor. Honestly, I didn't take you for a whore," he commented.
You clenched your jaw shut. You could have argued with him that it was your body's natural reaction to the stimulus provided and not a sign of your whole being's consent to what he was doing. But what use would that have been.
"Back in my days women were pure. They had dignity and innocence. The women of these days are just messed up, aren't you?"
You wished he could just shut up and not make this more difficult than it already was. But the end of his sentence was followed by him pushing in two fingers into your hole. You winced at the burning intrusion. Clearly, you weren't wet enough.
"Better take this good because what's coming next will be so much worse."
His threat was accentuated by the clinking sound of his belt buckle coming undone. He retrieved his slick covered fingers and wiped them on your thigh. You were panic stricken once again and you tried to crawl back away from him. But Steve held you firmly on your place by your hips.
The head of his cock nudged at your entrance. You could feel its hugeness already, there was no reason to doubt it. You couldn't believe and hadn't predicted earlier that Steve would actually go so far.
"Steve, please," you made a last plea to anything good that was left in the broken man.
Steve ignored you. Your plea turned into a shrill scream of pain as he forced himself inside you. His cock was all that you had imagined and then some. Your hands came flying towards his chest to push him away even though you couldn't have.
Steve's face was scrunched up with pleasure. It seemed that his imagination of you was just as accurate as yours of him and maybe more. Of course, for him it meant nothing bad. He had barely stilled in you for a second before he started moving to and fro within you. You were stretched and filled beyond your body's natural capacity without the necessary prior preparation. The fingers were no warning for this.
Your office echoed with multiple sounds ranging from Steve's groans and grunts, your own whimpers and cries, and the obscene slapping of your pelvis against his.
"Oh, doctor, you feel so good," he panted between his thrusts. “I have wanted this for so long!”
If he could only feel the pain of him tearing you. Surely, he could see the blood that eased his way in. But Steve would have argued that he has faced much worse.
Before the world's population had halved, you had expected the Captain to be a gentle and passionate lover. Much different from this raw and animalistic version of him that you were forced to experience now. All the war, the violence and the loss does that to a man. But your understanding of that concept didn't make all this any better on you.
Rutting away inside you wasn't doing that good for him after a while. So, Steve decided to trouble you more by locking both his hands around your relatively thin throat. The sight of your purpling face and the faint sound of you choking made him go harder. You tried with all your might to free your wind pipe but to no avail. You thought that you were going to die. Perhaps, that would you have been better.
Steve, however, let you breathe when he saw your eyes dimming and the movement of your body seizing. From then on, he kept one hand around your neck and the other at your hip. It made his slamming into your body easier and that way he could block off your air whenever he wanted.
It was all too overwhelming for you to take. His thrusts inside you had become a bit more tolerable but still not completely. There were a few sparks of pleasure inside you if he happened to slid against the right spots, but nearly not enough to give you an orgasm. Perhaps, if your pleasure was one of his priorities then you could have felt that. Not that you wanted to. Certainly not this way.
You just wanted the man to come as quickly as he could, but he seemed to go on forever. You hadn't taken in account the fact that Steve was gifted with superhuman stamina. You were sure you won't remain conscious by the time he actually finishes.
Steve was eager to chase his climax too. He tightened his grip where his hands held you while bending down to give attention to your breasts. Your body trembled at the feeling of his hot and wet mouth wrap around your nipple. The roll of his tongue on them was heavenly. Your walls clenched against him in response. He produced a satisfactory grunt.
He played your body like an instrument. Licking, touching and choking you at his whim to elicit a reaction that helped him come closer to his release. And when the moment came, he sank his teeth in your delicate bud. You screamed louder than he moaned as he spilled his seed inside you.
Your body had become frail, sore and entirely exhausted by the end. You could see the blood on his lips through your lidded eyes. It didn't matter anymore because you thought that he'd finally leave you.
You sighed with relief as he pulled himself away from you. But respite was short lived. Steve was already pulling you up and positioning you according to his will. You were placed on your hands and knees with the leather chair as your support. He didn't face any physical defiance from you. You were too weak and spent to put up a fight. But your mind could still comprehend what was coming at you for the second time
"S-Steve, wait," you said in a feather like voice.
His hands were around your neck and hip again.
"For what, (y/n)?"
The dreaded push of his cock was back on your sore entrance.
"Stop, I can't," you panted. "Not again."
Steve pulled your back against his chest. He dipped it chin on your shoulder and pressed his lips against your ear shell.
"Too bad, doctor, because I have only just started."