SUPERHERO SEX STORIES

ONE SHOT: Steve Rogers Sex Life in 1940s

Steve really just wanted some sleep. It'd been a long day and he didn't even get to punch any Nazis. So he went into his room and there was that blonde, the one that introduced her tongue to his tonsils, what was her name, Lorraine? No, that wasn't it, Gail. Gail Richards. And she was in his bed. And unless those sheets were covering a very skimpy nightgown, she was in the altogether.

Maybe it was the serum, but suddenly Steve could've run fifty miles to the English Channel and swam it. Or some other strenuous activity.

"Oh, Gail, you don't take no for an answer."

She just smiled at him and shifted a little, so the sheet fell away. Just a little. "You never said no."

"Look, I just-you're great, and it's great that you're serving your country, but there's this girl-"

"Of course there is." She sat up and was girly enough to keep the sheet mostly wrapped around her. Why did that heat him up so much? "So are you ready to hear my idea? I'll be your girl back home, come all the way here just so you don't get lonesome."

"I don't have a girl back home, it's not like that-" Behind him, someone wolf-whistled. Steve looked over his shoulder to see Bucky passing by . Yeah, he got a gander. Steve made a point of closing the door and locking it.

Only now he was locked in with Gail. And when she stood up, she left the sheet on the bed. She was slight, slender, there wasn't an ounce of wasted flesh on her. But there was something delicate and beautiful about that-she was pale and lovely and Steve could crush her if he flexed the wrong muscle. He'd have to be gentle with her, painstakingly gentle, but her pale breasts and achingly dainty body dared him to do it.

What was he thinking!? They weren't even going steady, and she wasn't even Peggy, and-well, she was a good kisser, at that.

Gail pulled her head away, but her body stayed pressed against Steve's, dwarfed by his physique. When she swished her hips, she brushed against him, and that little contact made his uniform feel way too tight to stay in. "Sure I'm your girl," Gail said sweetly, smiling up at him. Her light Jersey accent was sweet as marmalade.

"Every GI Joe needs a sweetheart back home. Remember, Stevie? How we used to dance the night away through every last song on the jukebox, and hold hands every step of the way on the walk home? Didn't we lay down for hours in the park, even after we'd finished our picnic, just sharing the sun on our skin? Haven't you written me letters, telling me all the things you're going through, everything you want to do when you come home to me? I read 'em. You want an ice-cold Coca-Cola and a warm apple pie and me, naked as a jaybird, kissin' all your bruises to make 'em better. It's a dream, Stevie, sure, but ain't it a good dream?"

Steve swallowed hard. Cripes, he'd regret this in the morning. "There's someone else," he told her firmly. "And maybe she isn't my girl, but I owe her something, and I wouldn't step out on her anymore than I'd step out on you if we were together. It's just the guy I am. But you look real nice. You should be in pictures." He made for the door, turned the knob. Oh, right, he'd locked it. He was just fiddling with the lock when he heard a slow clapping. Coming from the closet.

Steve gnashed his teeth and Gail looked abashed, covering herself with her hands. When Scott stomped to the closet, she turned to offer less of her profile. He threw the door open and there was Peggy, looking like he'd run another course back at base camp. Her arms were crossed with the same incisive pride.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, not even caring that there were ladies (two!) present.

"Just a little point of curiosity. Gail wanted to know if she could seduce you."