3
THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND FOUR WILL OPEN AT 10PM EST ON MONDAY THE 14TH.
ROUND THREE
closing at 5000 comments
Please read the [rules] before commenting!
REMINDER: THERE IS A SPOILER POLICY IN PLACE UNTIL 7 MAY.
PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!Put [RPF] before RPF prompts ( Read more... )
He came fiercely, moaning and working his hand loosely over the waves of orgasm. His breath erratic for a few moments afterwards, and then he laid and stared at the ceiling as he let the post-orgasm haze wash off of him. Shit, he thought, and then reminded himself. It’s OK now. It’s fine to feel this way, to want this... He shuddered, though, his lower abdomen tightening. He inhaled again, then stood to go wash himself.
It very likely would ended there, with fantasies each night before bed, if they didn’t have to repel a planned invasion of Washington, D.C. the next day. Thor had been on the ground, with him, taking care of the large tank like structures coming down the streets. He had turned to grin at Steve as he mounted one of them and rose his hammer to strike - and he was completely unprepared for the bomb that ripped the tank apart. Steve had to use his shield to protect himself from the intense heat and shrapnel, and when he was finally able to move the shield he saw only a jagged hole in the ground.
They’re immortal, he told himself, but he didn’t believe it, and he felt like he was going to vomit.
Thor’s eyes were closed as he lay to the side of the pit, charred, his cape still on fire. Steve rushed over, and it was only when he stepped on the cape that Thor opened his eyes. Relief flooded Steve, deeper and denser than any he had felt before, even when Tony had been hurtling down from the sky in Manhattan. “Give me a hand, would you, Captain Steve?” Thor asked.
Shit, shit, shit, Steve thought, instantly stretching his hand out.
* * *
“Hi. Natasha?” he said, the next afternoon, standing in the doorway to the kitchen where she was perched on the counter, eating a salad.
The spy glanced at him warily. He half expected her to growl. Then she sighed. “Captain.”
“You can really call me Steve,” he said. “When we’re not - uhm, anyway, I wanted to ask you for some advice?” He winced. Natasha set down her salad and crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing her breasts. Steve took a moment to take them in, confirming his suspicions. He smiled at her. “OK, so,” he began, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “And I’m asking, since you were the one who kindly introduced me to, well, twenty-first century attitudes towards sexuality, so. Let’s say that a man wants to let another man know they’re interested in them and they don’t happen to be sharing a tent on a mountain. What would that man do?” He gave her one his huge, should be trademarked since it was on all the trading cards grins.
“Seriously?” she said. “Why don’t you go ask Tony? He’s picked up tons of guys.”
Steve furrowed his brow. “Tony is with Pepper,” he said.
Natasha stared into the distance for a moment, and then said, “Right, OK. Well, in this completely hypothetical situation, I think that it would be best to be forward. Men like that. So, this man should let the other dem-man know that he’s interested.”
Steve furrowed his brow deeper. “With...flowers? Chocolates? A card?”
Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly in an attempt to hide a smile. “Not...no. I would advise this man to either just say who he felt, or to just...express those feelings. Physically.”
“That seems quite forward,” Steve said. “What if the man is not sure if the other man is interested in, ugh, men?”
“Don’t worry about that, at that point,” Natasha said. “He’s interested.”
“But...how do you know?”
Natasha shook her head, shrugged and picked her salad up, so Steve gave her the big smile again and stood up. “Thanks,” he said. She waved her hand at him as he walked out of the kitchen.
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