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

If You Stumble... Pt.2/3

If he could torture you with his gentleman act, you could draw your own weapons. You fingers went to adjust the straw delicately, your eyelids fluttering close. Hearing the little choked noise he had released was about as delicious as the milkshake.

"You were right. It's pretty good," you exclaimed. Steve's wide pupils hypnotized you and you grinned, nudging him with your foot lightly under the table. "You should start eating, Mr.Rogers."

"Right. Right. Glad you like the... the milkshake."

"Oh, I do. I really, really do."

---

Of course, Steve Rogers was a freaking bastard and he always had an ace in his sleeve, even when it came to causing cardiac arrests to his soulmate.

He paid for your food and drinks, because of course he did, but that wasn't it. Nope. You left the diner shortly before midnight, that damn leather jacket of which you still had no clue what was for on his arm. It didn't make sense; you would expect him to offer it to you, but you thought the actual chivalry was in offering a dame something he actually wore at the moment, showing her comfort was more important than his.

And then you saw the motorbike he had led you too and literally everything clicked into place. Including the dark nylons; he wanted at least something to cover you when you straddled the bike, sitting behind him.

Oh. Oh shit. This was going to be death of you. You were suddenly very grateful for the choice you had made with your dress. Despite knowing what a ride like this would do to you and your filthy brain, you wouldn't miss it for a world.

"May I give you a ride home, miss?" he asked with a grin, eyes sparkling happily when he saw your jaw fell.

"Yes!" you blurted out before your brain even processed what he was asking.

He held out the jacket for you to slip in, the warm material immediately enwrapping you. It smelled like leather and Steve and you inhaled more deeply, letting the sensation overwhelm you. Your imagination not so helpfully supplied you with Steve wearing the leader jacket, cocky smirk on his face and jerking his head, inviting you to sit behind him on the motorcycle.

Yes, you were definitely about to die and you weren't think road accident.

"I have no helmet for you, but you have my word – I'd never let anything happened to you," he declared as he stood at your back, his lips nearly brushing your earlobe, voice an octave lower than before and heavy with a promise.

You were dead. Murdered on spot. With unfairly wet underwear on top of that. God help me.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered with barely audible hesitance.

You gave a firm nod, snapping from your haze.

"Good. Come on."

He straddled the bike – oh, how your mind hadn't done him justice, the reality was much more destructive to both your heart and underwear, and he wasn't even wearing the leather jacket –, beckoning for you to join him. You reluctantly did so, your thighs linked with his as each side. Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, hammering rapidly, and you were sure he would be able to feel that if you wrapped your arms around him – which was pretty much a necessity.

He glanced at your over his shoulder, a smile that was simultaneously sweet and wicked at the same time on his lips. Smug bastard, reading you like a book. What had you done to anyone, ending up with soulmate like that?

"I'm gonna need to you hold onto me," he informed you gently and you took a deep breath, leaning onto his back.

God, he was warm. And muscular. So very muscular, which was no news, but God. You bit the inside of your cheek when you imagined just how perfect sensation you were about to have under your palms. Steve's hands took your wrists with care, placing them on his middle, letting you feel his perfect front.

"Hold onto me tight. Can't have you falling off, doll," he whispered, the pet name rolling of his tongue with indulgence and you couldn't tell whether it was on purpose. But it only fuelled your illusion of him being the bad boy of ol' Brooklyn, sending a shudder through your body. You obeyed and placed your cheek against his back on top of that. It drew a satisfied hum from him, one you could feel in your bones as it vibrated though his chest. "That's better. Can you keep it like this?"

You gulped. "Yeah. Yeah, I can."

But I can't promise I'll ever let go.

----Notes:

My Brain: Alright. We'll summarize a nice date (because Steve's sweet like that) in about two paragraphs and-- okay, fine, who are we kidding, it will probably take like 1k words, but that's okay, we can work with that.... and then there will be their first time, the main focus of this fic.

-7k words later, have not even started with the funny business yet-

Word Counter: You were saying?

My Brain: ...it's all foreplay, can't you see...?