𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 • 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

50 • Prove It

"Steve," Millie whined. "I think I can look after myself in the shower, I'm fine."

He propped himself up against the sink and watched as she undressed, holding his hand out to steady her if she lost her balance.

"I still want to help, you're essentially recovering from being shot, Millie. Even if it didn't technically happen directly to you."

"I miss the days when you followed me into the bathroom to have shower sex, not to treat me like an elderly care patient."

"Technically, you are an elderly care patient."

"Shut up," she unclasped her bra. "I'm also much younger than you, technically."

"It's true, but that means you're the one that likes fucking an old man–gross."

Millie gasped slightly. "You just called me old before, so technically you like fucking an old granny."

Steve's brows furrowed. "I think I confused myself, this is like Schrödinger's super soldier."

Millie chuckled and felt herself wobble backwards, attempting to catch herself before Steve could over-exaggerate things with her state of wellbeing.

"See, you need help!"

"Do not." Millie argued.

"It's only been a few days, stop being so stubborn and let me hold you up."

Millie huffed and looked up at him. "Fine, but can you at least shower with me? It...it feels weird having stand outside with an arm around me."

Steve smiled and started to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off his broad shoulders and letting it slip down his back. The steamy air left his skin sticky, glistening slightly for Millie to take in.

Of course, Millie watched him rid himself of his clothes, she couldn't help it. Even in her state she wanted nothing more than to jump on him and take a ride, but he was being strict about her taking it easy.

And apparently taking it easy meant no sex.

"You're drooling." Steve smirked, pulling his trousers down over his semi.

"Makes sense," she wiped her lip just in case she actually was. "You're hard."

"Barely."

"You saying my body doesn't turn you on?" Millie raised an eyebrow.

"I'm saying..." he growled in her ear, so close his manhood was brushing up against her. "I'm trying to control myself."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Cheeky," he swatted her ass and took her hand. "Get in the shower."

There was a small amount of excitement that built up in Millie, a hopeful feeling that he'd pick her up and push her against the cold wall, fuck up into her, but he didn't.

Instead he took her body wash and started lathering the suds up her body, massaging her muscles as he did so, letting his thumbs dig in and run all down her back.

The lust in Millie's body started to wear off as she let herself lean back into Steve, his large hands comforting her curvy little body, taking out the stress caused by the last few days.

She swallowed a thick lump in her throat. "We haven't talked about the fall."

"I don't want to." He mumbled.

"Steve, every time I bring it up you shut down. It's not like it happened to you, I'm the one that fell."

"And I'm the one that almost lost the love of my life again!" He snapped, removing his hands from her body quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"