Surrender // Steve Harrington x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗

Steve's mouth hovers over your own and you know there's an air of uncertainty. He wants to kiss you, to never stop kissing you, but he doesn't want to fuck this up. His lips, soft and inviting as ever, brush against your own as he speaks. "We can stop at any point."

His reassuring words were sweet, but you were impatient. Capturing his lips with your own, swallowing the mumbled uttering, he melts into the kiss the moment it's placed upon him. His hands slip down your sides to rest at your hips, gently applying pressure to keep you pressed against him. 

The kiss deepens and his tongue swipes past the barrier of your mouth, delving into it and moving in contented tandem with your own. There was a quiet whimper that vibrated through your throat, audibly showing him how much you wanted him. 

It makes his grip on you tighten ever so slightly, dress bunching beneath his fingers. 

Your own fingers find purchase in his lapels, then his hair where a brief tug has him sighing against your lips, until they settle on his ridiculous vest and push it from his shoulders. He flexes his arms back to assist, letting it drop in a heap to the floor. 

Lips connected in a kiss that was quickly turning hungry and desperate, your hands find his polo next and pull it free of its restraint beneath his belted jeans. He pulls away though only to help you discard it from his torso which was heaving with anticipating breaths. The pads of your fingers run over his bare chest, the small tuft of hair in the middle that stops at the apex of his abs though your fingertips do not. They carry on to the trail of hair that runs from the dip of his bellybutton and past the constraints of his jeans, where your fingers finally cease their wandering.

He watches you the entire time, allowing you to explore him in your sweet curiosity. Sure, you'd seen him shirtless before. Fresh out of the shower, or in the midst of changing if he'd accidentally left his door open. But this was the first time you'd allowed yourself to really look at his body. To see it in the light he wanted you to see it in. To appreciate every angular dip of muscle and rise of skin.

You follow the same path upward with your touch, feeling the delicate skin turn to goosebumps in your wake as they run over his shoulders and down those thick upper arms. 

Teeth capture your lower up as you look up at him a little apologetically. You couldn't help your explorations when he looked this good. But there was no judgement on his face, nor taunt to his eyes. Just a gentle encouragement in letting you take it at a pace you both needed and deserved. 

"Unzip me?" Your voice was so quiet he almost missed it, though the turn in his arms made him realize your intentions. He eases the zipper of your dress down and watches with intent as it falls open to show off your marred back. He still had never fully seen the marks, always hidden beneath fabric in your insecurity. In fact even now, he'd always been careful not to put his hands there if he could help it. A gentle brush here and there was excusable but he understood you and why you didn't like it. 

You couldn't look at him as you ease the fabric from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor around your feet. 

A breathy oh warms your shoulders as his eyes capture the vision of you in the lacy lingerie. When you turn in his arms, his fingertips take your own and he steps back to get the full view. Eyes wide, lips propped open in a half-hearted grin, too enraptured in your visage to fully commit to it. The boy was whipped. As were you. "Is it good?" Your sheepish tone fills the void between you. Dark eyes meet your own. Yep. It was good.

His pupils were so enlarged that they almost engulfed the hazel expanse that housed them. Instead of telling you, he elected instead to show you how unbelievably good it was.