The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 79

Brooklyn was concerned.

Nothing she had been doing lately seemed to be working.

She had been putting holes in Steve's socks, hiding his shaving kit daily, putting salt in his food when he wasn't looking, slipping sugar into his coffee, tying his shoes in knots... small things that annoyed him. Things that made him take a deep breath and frown.

Things that, usually, if he caught her doing them she was sure would earn her a smack or two on her bottom. But he seemed to be letting it all slide.

In fact, this was starting to look like she would need to resort to drastic measures. She had been eyeing the leather case he kept his shield in, by the door of the apartment. She wasn't going to do anything to it. She wasn't even sure she would be able to. But hiding it? Maybe 'misplacing' it? That was sure to earn her a paddling?

Brooklyn wasn't sure why he had suddenly stopped. Things had been fine! The last session they had done, with the belt, had gone so well, she had thought. She had taken the hits beautifully, if she did say so herself. He had responded so wonderfully! Even tying her hands with the belt, once he was done, pushing her through orgasm after orgasm, afterwards.

But then, he stopped.

Stopped the spanking. Stopped the pinching. Stopped ripping clothes. Stopped the biting, and the grabbing, and the holding her throat. He had stopped fucking her so hard her teeth rattled, stopped breathing harsh words in her ear while she fell apart around him. Stopped calling her degrading names while he took her body so harshly that she burned even as she came.

Simply put, Steve Rogers stopped being controlling in regards to their sex life.

He was kind, he was warm, he still held her at night so tight that she felt like their skin was going to graft together by the time they woke up. He spent time between her legs, worshiping her with his tongue and lips. He stroked her as sweetly as if she was a treasure. He kissed her, touched her, rocked her, made love to her, as gently and sweetly as he could, encouraging her to cum again and again, while she let him hear how much she loved him.

And it was nice.

It was better than nice.

It almost seemed like a plot line out of one of the books she read on her kindle.

But it wasn't who they were. Not really.

They were rough and tumble. They were bites, and claws, and fucking so hard her hips ached afterwards. They were bruises that were there so briefly that they had to have another go at each other, just to see them come back. Blood under the nails, and the tang of it on the tongue. They were harsh rude words, cusses while being choked, the sound of flesh being smacked. They were raw, passionate, untamed.

In short, they were animals.

And yet, for some reason Steve had decided to flip the switch and play nicey-nice. And again, while it was nice, it wasn't why she was with him.

She was with him because she loved him. And she loved him, all of him. The dark, as well as the light.

The fact that, despite everything they had been through, especially recently, she still craved the dark more than the light had nothing to do with her recent behavior. Nope. Nothing.

She just wanted to see how far she could push him before he snapped. That was always good fun.

She would be the first to admit that making him snap on purpose, as opposed to when she has just been an absolute brat because of what was going on in her life, was a new experience. And kind of fun. It was fun, to find pranks and things to do, to try to push him to the edge.