Isn't it confusing, what first love does to a man?
Story where Alexine is Soldier Boy's first love and rekindle after many years apart.
[UNGOING]
[Warnings; smut, angst, torture, mention of torture, trauma, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse...
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Years had passed since Alexine had last seen Benjamin, and time had done its job. The pain of their separation had dulled, like a scar that no longer ached but was always there as a reminder. She had moved on, in every sense of the word. After leaving New York behind, she'd taken long, well-deserved vacations—weeks spent in Germany where she'd lose herself in the quiet countryside, away from the loud reminders of her past. When she returned to Washington, she fell back into the rhythm of her work at the CIA, settling into a life that no longer revolved around Benjamin.
But even though she had moved on, she couldn't quite escape him. His image was everywhere: on the pages of magazines, on television, and in ads plastered on billboards. Soldier Boy, America's hero, the face of Vought International. Even if she had managed to push him out of her heart, he was always there, lingering in the background of her world. It was something she had learned to live with.
It was 1983 now, and Alexine was spending her morning at the CIA headquarters in Washington. The building itself was stark, a monolithic structure of glass and concrete that mirrored the cold efficiency of the work being done inside. The hallways were lined with muted tones of beige and grey, the air always filled with a low hum of chatter, phone calls, and the clatter of typewriters. In a place like this, people came and went without notice.
She stood by the coffee machine in the break room, patiently waiting for the slow drip of the machine to fill her cup. The room was as dull as the rest of the building, with steel countertops, fluorescent lights, and a few stiff chairs placed haphazardly around a small table. Her thoughts were far from where she stood, lost in the reports she had to file for the day, when she felt someone step into her personal space.
Alexine glanced sideways, immediately irritated by the proximity of the man. He was too close, his breath nearly brushing her shoulder. He was tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hands deep in his pockets, and his brown hair neatly combed. His blue eyes were narrow, sharp, the kind that surveyed a room and saw people as assets or obstacles.
"Hello. I am—" he began, but she didn't let him finish.
"Yeah, I know who you are," Alexine cut him off, her voice flat. She didn't need introductions.
Everyone in the industry knew who he was. The Legend, Vice President of Hero Management for Vought America. He was infamous, a man who'd built his career on managing the image of Supes, spinning their stories, and hiding their sins. Alexine couldn't quite remember his real name, and she didn't care to. He was a fixture in the world she had tried to leave behind.
"Way to bite, sweetheart," he said with a smirk, clearly unbothered by her abruptness.
Alexine raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She grabbed her now-full coffee cup and took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact with him. She could already guess why he was here. Benjamin's latest mission—something about rescuing American children from a human trafficking ring—had been a success. She had seen the headlines. It wasn't surprising that The Legend had followed him here. The CIA would need a full report, and Vought would want to control the narrative.
