Steve Rogers Imagines

Frisky.

You peered over at him. "What, make you a list?"

Chris nodded, grinning.

Without saying another word, you sat up, grabbing a pen and paper from the bedside table, and started making him a list of the ten most unique and interesting places the two of you had ever had sex.

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First up was a classic. When Chris was younger and filming all the time, you would often come out to meet him after shows. Since you had typically been apart for anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, there was a lot of pent up desire and sexual frustration. Usually, Chris was good about waiting until you were back in the hotel room before he made a move, but one time in particular stuck out in your mind.

You had met him backstage after he finished a comic con – not telling him beforehand that you were going to be there – and laughed when you saw the look on his face after he spotted you. You were in his arms two seconds later and he proceeded to squeeze the life out of you while kissing all over your face. He walked with you, still in his arms, until you reached the door of his dressing room. He pushed it open with his free hand and then kicked it shut once you were both inside. His lips never left yours as he roughly pushed you back against the closed door.

"Take it off," he growled, nipping at your neck with his teeth and pulling at the hem of your shirt.

You giggled, pulling your head back and looking at him.

"Hello, I've missed you, I love you."

Chris paused, giving you a sweet smile and leaning in to kiss you gently.

"Hello. I've missed you. I love you." He nipped at your neck again. "Take it off."

You laughed again, reaching down to help him get your shirt off. You were pinned up against the dressing room door as Chris unzipped his jeans and thrust them down his legs, just enough so they were out of the way. He was already hard, pressing against the fabric of his boxers. You were thankful you had worn a skirt today because all Chris needed to do was pull it up so it was over your bum, before pushing your panties to the side and thrusting himself into you with a hiss.

He gripped your wrist and pinned it above your head as he pounded you mercilessly into the door. There was nothing gentle about his movements; this was weeks of pent-up aggression and missing your body and having to satisfy himself with only his hand. His teeth bit down on your neck and shoulder, leaving marks that you knew would be there for days. He was thrusting so hard that your feet actually lifted a few inches off the ground each time, and he was hitting that spot inside of you that made your entire body want to cave in on itself.

Neither of you lasted very long. He coaxed you into your orgasm by bringing his free hand down and the moment you lost it and started pulsing around him.

Both of you stood there, still pressed against the door, panting and smiling at each other.

"Hello," Chris repeated, kissing you again, "I love you and I've missed you...a lot."

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The second memory you had was in a bathtub. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to unwind with a bath after a long day, but typically you used that time to strictly relax. You would lay back against his chest while he washed your hair or scrubbed your shoulders and back, talk about your day or anything else that was going on, and sit there exchanging kisses and cuddles until the water got cold.

One night in particular, however, the two of you were feeling a little too frisky to keep your bath innocent. You could tell because instead of sticking to running a washcloth over your shoulders and back, Chris's hands wandered lower. They grazed your bum and then circled around until they were resting on your thighs. You let out a breath and leaned your head back against Chris's chest.