Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

No Apologies Needed - Pt.1/4

Your pulse wavered in fear and for a second you wanted to push him away – but then the memory of his soft apologizing tone hit you and you just couldn't do it. You suddenly didn't care why he needed to hide – whether it was a crazy clingy ex, a drunken friend or a drug cartel he owned money to. It didn't matter to you, as insane as that made you.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your bloodstream – or the fact that his lips felt very nice against yours, or the broad shoulders you had managed to notice during your super-fast panicked inspection of the stranger who had grabbed you. The lips didn't seem to be close enough and neither did his body. You sneaked one hand around his waist, gasping when you felt the firmness of his muscles, unable to stop your hand from reaching a bit lower to what you expected to be a booty feeling just as firm. You were not disappointed and boy, if that sensation didn't warm your belly in the most delicious way.

Your other hand slipped under the hood of his sweatshirt and you could feel him stiffen as he probably thought you were about to expose him. But you simply slid your fingers into his locks, earning a soft sigh from him. It apparently encouraged him to press his body closer to yours.

Now that was a believable make-out session for this kind of place and you would be damned if your evening just didn't turn way better than you had expected. The man's lips were still dancing with yours, slowing down, until there was just a ghost of a touch of them on yours, his fingers resting lightly against your cheek, while his other hand was on your hip.

When had he started touching your hip?

You were breathing heavily, attacked by his unobtrusive cologne that somehow felt vintage. You crossed out a low-life persona from your mental list of people who might have just kissed you, because someone who smelled this nice couldn't be hanging out on the streets most of his days. Also, you couldn't smell large amount of alcohol on him, which only supported your theory.

And wow, your brain was so busying itself with stuff that weren't important.

You licked your lips, gulping. Well. Now should come the awkward part. You couldn't make yourself open your eyes.

"So... are we good, Stranger?" you asked hoarsely, your throat too tight to allow you to speak clearly. You fought the urge to swallow again.

"Depends," his equally rough voice caressed you and your fingertips tingled. Jeeez, girl, get a grip, god knows who this guy is- "Is there a white male, 5 feet 9 tall, dark hair, athletic built, wearing black t-shirt and jeans or a white male 6 feet 3 tall, blond, muscular, in dark blue t-shirt and jeans in sight?"

Your heart jumped to your throat and your eyes snapped open at the first words he said. White male about 5 feet 9 tall, athletic built-? What kind of a person described people like that? What the hell did you get yourself into?

...not that you had been in it voluntarily. At least from the beginning, later on it was— shut up.

You raised your gaze from his neck – because he was just that tall – and let your eyes roam around the room, searching for the men he had just described. You had no clue, it was rather the way he had said those words than their actual meaning that got stuck in your brain, but you didn't think you saw anyone who looked like that... and seemed especially intimidating on top of that, because you guessed that if a walking rock like this hooded stranger himself felt the need to hide...

"No, I don't think I see anyone who would match that description," you whispered dutifully, fighting the urge to add 'Sir'. He was just giving a vibe of a man you should be addressing 'Sir'.

With your mouth dry, you looked up to the man's face still partially hidden in the shadows of his hood.

Beautiful eyes met yours with unbearable intensity. You stomach clenched, but not uncomfortably. Oh boy, he was a looker; bright blue eyes, blond hair, ripped body... you realized you were still touching him – quite inappropriately – and let go of his shoulder and... bottom, yeah. Though it was as hard as if there were magnets between you, the sensation just way too pleasant under your fingertips only a moment ago.