Secret Bit of Right From Wrong

*Fast, I know.  But this one is super short, and mostly just fan service.  Sorry if I Mary-Sue'd a bit, I plead rose-colored glasses on Steve*

 

 

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The smooth curve of her bare shoulder was so beautiful.  In the low light, her pale skin seemed to glow. He reached up to run his hand across his lover’s back, gently kneading the base of her neck.  Her gorgeous dark hair felt like silk as it fell across his hand.  “Mmmm.” Her soft, breathy voice let him know, without words, that his touch felt good.  His love was pleased, and that made him happy beyond telling.  He shifted, sitting up so his other hand could reach her as well.  He slipped his arm around her waist, reveling in the soft curves.  Unlike so many of the women he saw nowadays, she had a rich, lush body, plump and feminine.  As she leaned into the embrace, he buried his face in the curls of hair, still mussed from sleep, and other things bed related.  Thinking on that hardened him, almost painfully.  He might have thought he hadn’t just finished making love to her mere minutes ago.  He just could not get enough of her, his strength, his light.  She turned her head to look at him “Darling?  I’ve been wondering…” 

“Yes, my love?”

“What does “Ich sehe dich, Kapitän. Sie ist sehr hübsch, was für eine schande, sie zu töten.” mean?”

“Gaahhh!”

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Steve bolted upright in his hospital bed, trying for all he was worth to scream.  It never failed to amaze him how fast and easily a wonderful dream could become a horrible nightmare.  If he could locate the creep who wrote that note, he’d make that bastard wish he’d never been born.  If Tony were here, he’d punch him in the jaw for putting the thought that he could have something with Karen in his head.  Frustration ate at him, in many ways, for many reasons.  Regret at the limited nature of his only means of relief, anger that his self-control had broken down enough that it was needful, and a deep, aching empty feeling that he had no name for, all pushed at him, threatening to drive him mad. 

*Just bite the bullet, Rogers.  You aren’t the first man in this bind, you won’t be the last, and the Lord knows you aren’t saint material anyhow.*

Sighing, he reached a hand under his blanket, careful not to let it slide off of him, and began to rub himself.  This was by no means his first time doing this, he was only a man, and still being a virgin, he’d had to figure something out.  This time, however, it was hard for him to focus on gaining release.  His mind kept serving up images of Karen, sweet Karen, doing this for him.  It was a perverse fate, he decided, that the woman he desired above all others, the only one he could picture at a time like this, was so good and pure that he hated himself for his fantasies.  *I am going to hell, I just know it.  There isn’t much I can do about it without losing my mind though.*  So, he gave up on trying to stop the mental images.  He pictured her sitting by him, stroking him, wondered how it would feel to have her smaller, softer hand on his skin.  Without warning, the image of her placing his dick in her mouth sprang forth.  He couldn’t pull his mind away, his desire throbbing in his blood at the thought of those perfect rosebud lips stretched open in an 'O' around him.  Like a gunshot, fast and frightening, he exploded onto his hand. 

“Yup. I am going to hell.”