At least Steve can say he's not a complete innocent. He hasn't had much personal experience (read: just about none), but when you grow up in the kind of neighborhoods he lived in, and when you spend a couple years among soldiers, you learn a lot. Some of the things you learn are precisely the wrong things, but at least he's not easily shocked.
What he thought he wanted, the first time he and Thor crashed into one another, was a sparring partner he couldn't injure. Things have developed since then, and now the sexual aspect of their liaisons is something he can't imagine going without, either.
He always gets a case of nerves, waiting for Thor. The idea that an immortal being wants to pin him to the floor and have his way with him is one part intimidating, one part arousing, and one part absurdly flattering. To keep himself from vibrating out of his own skin, he strips off the uniform and boots, laying his clothes folded and tucked beside his shield, and pads barefoot across the gym mat, in nothing more than sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. It takes him two nervous circuits around the gym before he manages to settle, sitting on a bench to tape his knuckles.
When Thor arrives, that's what he's up to, smoothing the wraps over his right wrist. His eyes are dark and stormy when he looks up as he enters the room, but he smiles, a flash of real warmth.
"You took your time getting down here," he accuses, standing, and it's both a joke and a challenge.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2017-05-11 02:39 am (UTC)What he thought he wanted, the first time he and Thor crashed into one another, was a sparring partner he couldn't injure. Things have developed since then, and now the sexual aspect of their liaisons is something he can't imagine going without, either.
He always gets a case of nerves, waiting for Thor. The idea that an immortal being wants to pin him to the floor and have his way with him is one part intimidating, one part arousing, and one part absurdly flattering. To keep himself from vibrating out of his own skin, he strips off the uniform and boots, laying his clothes folded and tucked beside his shield, and pads barefoot across the gym mat, in nothing more than sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. It takes him two nervous circuits around the gym before he manages to settle, sitting on a bench to tape his knuckles.
When Thor arrives, that's what he's up to, smoothing the wraps over his right wrist. His eyes are dark and stormy when he looks up as he enters the room, but he smiles, a flash of real warmth.
"You took your time getting down here," he accuses, standing, and it's both a joke and a challenge.