Chapter Text
Steve woke up in a warm fog. For a moment he thought he was in his own bed in Stark’s Tower, but that illusion was quickly dashed by the large, firm, hot body pressed up against his back, snoring lightly by his ear. Steve tensed. Last night hit him like a ton of bricks, and it took everything in his power not to shoot up screaming.
Thor, still asleep, wrapped his arm even tighter around Steve’s abdomen, pulling Steve further into his body. They were flush together, and Steve schooled his breathing. For a breath or two Steve thought he could do this. He could relax back into Thor and fall asleep again, let himself stay warm. He forced his eyes open and clenched his jaw. No. Thor did not want this, he reasoned. It was just for the night. There was nothing left to do. With a sigh, Steve pulled Thor’s arm off him and moved out of the bed, slipping through the sheets, and gingerly stepping onto the floor. He stood, looking around for his clothes when—
“Are you leaving?”
Thor peered out at him through one eye as he started to wake.
“Just the bathroom,” Steve lied. He felt the twist of guilt in his stomach as he looked down at Thor’s stretched out form on the bed. Thor had nodded with a small smile, and closed his eyes once more, relaxing back into the bed. It was hard to lie to him. Steve padded over to the bathroom because of it, still naked and very, very conscious of it.
He splashed water on his face, looking at his reflection in the mirror, uncertain, uneasy. His body had a few light marks, fingerprint-shaped where Thor had held him down, manhandled him. Steve caught sight of his right arm. It was a deep red and purple sea of bruises. The break was almost healed under his muscles, but the bruises were taking their time. It was always the case. His bones stitched right up, but there was always a reminder for a few hours longer that he had done something really stupid. There was one bruise in particular, shaped like a large, strong hand.
Steve stared at it, gazing through the mirror and then holding his forearm up to look at a different angle. He very slowly brought his other hand up to the mark and, after waiting a moment, firmly pressed into it. A blossom of pain etched it’s way into his muscles and up his arm, and he bit back a hiss. He flexed his hand, and rolled his wrist, all the while feeling the bruised muscle work angrily through the pain under his skin. Steve felt his mouth turn up in something like a smile. He thought about last night. Pushing down the images of the sex, of Thor’s lips on his cock. Don’t think about that, he ordered himself. Some parts of the night flashed before his eyes, and he could not parse through them, overwhelmed, but he would never admit that. Better to not think about that at all.
Instead he thought about Thor taking Steve’s broken arm in his hand and just squeezing. The rolling waves of pain that had shot through his arm and curled up in his shoulders, spine, core. That was real. The presence. The focus. He could not exactly recreate the feeling in his mind, but he knew it was a heroin strong rush. He remembered feeling it in his very cells, making him present where he had been floating. He was reminded of something one of the commanding officers said, back when he was in the army, before the serum; “The body cannot remember pain because pain is just weakness leaving the body.”
Letting out a quivering breath, he finally put his arms back down at his sides, glancing at his face once more in the mirror, and stepping out of the bathroom. That’s what had happened last night. Weakness leaving the body. Steve was stronger for it. And it was done.
He found his pants and shirt and started pulling them on.
“You are leaving,” Thor said, now sitting up in the bed watching him.
“Yeah, last night was… something. But a one-time deal.”
“If that is what you wish.”
“It is,” Steve had no trouble mustering his authority today. But he still had a little trouble looking Thor in the eye. All the better to never let this happen again. He turned to leave.
“Steven,” Thor called out as Steve made it to the doorway.
Steve froze, hand on the doorframe, gripping a little too tightly for someone trying to walk away from casual sex.
“If you need to… do this again,” Thor trailed off, and Steve finally turned and saw Thor had a strange look on his face. Steve could not read it. “I would always be glad to be of assistance.”
“Thanks,” Steve said after a beat. “Yeah, thanks.”
He was never going to do that again. Steve knew that. But he bumped his arm on the door to the elevator and a new spring of pain flowered from his bruised arm, and Steve bit his lip. The pain churned up something visceral in his belly, and Steve quickly hit the button for his floor and leaned back against the wall of the elevator, shutting his eyes from it all and letting out a slow, shuddering breath.