The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional clink of an empty bottle being set down.
Sharon's breath was warm against his cheek. Their faces were only inches apart now. The alcohol had softened the edges of everything—guilt, duty, decorum—until only the simplest, most honest impulses remained.
Steve's gaze dropped to her lips, then rose again to meet her eyes. There was a question there, unspoken but clear.
Sharon answered by leaning in first.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like two people testing whether the world would still turn if they allowed themselves this one selfish thing. Then Steve's hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, and the kiss deepened—hungrier, more desperate. Years of restraint, of frozen time, of loss, poured into that single point of contact.
Sharon made a small, needy sound against his mouth. Her hands found the hem of his soft gray t-shirt and slipped underneath, palms sliding up the hard planes of his stomach, feeling muscle that had been forged decades ago and never allowed to soften. Steve shuddered under her touch.
They broke apart just long enough for her to tug his shirt over his head. It landed somewhere behind the couch. Her thin pajama top followed a moment later, leaving her in only a pair of pale cotton panties. Steve's breath caught audibly.
"You're beautiful," He said, voice rough with alcohol and something deeper.
Sharon's laugh was soft, a little shaky. "You're not so bad yourself, Captain."
She pushed him back until he was half-reclining on the couch. Straddling his hips, she leaned down to kiss him again—slower this time, savoring. Her breasts brushed against his chest; the contact made them both inhale sharply. Steve's large hands settled on her waist, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just above her hipbones.
She rocked against him once, twice—feeling him harden beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants. A low groan rumbled in his throat.
"Sharon…" His voice was strained. "We don't have to—"
"I want to," She whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then down the column of his throat. "I want you."
That seemed to be the last permission he needed.
With an easy strength that still surprised her, Steve sat up, lifting her with him as though she weighed nothing. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He carried her a few steps to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss.
They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. Sharon tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants; he kicked them off along with his boxers. She shimmied out of her panties while he watched her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.
For a moment they simply looked at each other—naked, flushed, breathing hard.
Then Steve lowered himself over her, bracing on his forearms so he wouldn't crush her. He kissed her again, slower, deeper, while one hand trailed down her side, over the curve of her hip, between her thighs.
When his fingers found her slick and ready, he groaned against her mouth.
"God, Sharon…"
She arched into his touch, guiding his hand exactly where she wanted it. Two thick fingers slid inside her; his thumb circled her clit with careful, devastating pressure. She moaned, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Please," She breathed. "I need you inside me."
Steve didn't make her wait.
He reached between them, lined himself up, and pushed in—slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust to his size. Sharon's head tipped back, lips parting on a long, trembling exhale as he filled her completely.
He stilled for a moment, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard.
"You okay?" He rasped.
She nodded frantically, hips lifting in a wordless plea. "Move. Please."
He did.
The first few thrusts were measured, almost gentle. Then she hooked her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper, harder. Something in Steve finally snapped.
His rhythm turned rougher, more urgent. The old wooden bedframe creaked in protest. Skin slapped against skin. Sharon's hands roamed his back, nails leaving red trails across muscle that had once been painted on recruitment posters.
"Steve—" Her voice broke on his name as he hit just the right spot inside her.
He dropped his head to her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point. "Say it again," He murmured against her skin.
"Steve… oh god, Steve—"
Each time she said his name he drove into her harder, deeper, like he was trying to leave an imprint of himself inside her. Her thighs began to tremble. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in her belly.
"I'm— I'm close," She gasped.
Steve lifted his head, found her mouth again in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. His hand slipped between them, thumb pressing firm circles over her clit.
"Come for me," He said, voice gravel-rough. "Let me feel you."
That was all it took.
Sharon shattered beneath him with a sharp, broken cry—back arching, inner walls clenching rhythmically around him. Steve groaned, hips stuttering as her orgasm pulled him under too. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, pulsing deep inside her, his whole body trembling with the force of it.
For long seconds neither of them moved, just panted against each other's skin, hearts hammering.
Eventually Steve rolled to the side, pulling her with him so she lay draped across his chest. His arms wrapped around her like he was afraid she might disappear.
Sharon pressed a lazy kiss to the center of his chest, over the spot where his heart beat strong and steady.
"Stay," He said quietly, almost like he didn't trust himself to speak louder.
She smiled against his skin. "I'm not going anywhere."
He exhaled, long and slow, some of the tension finally leaving his body.
Outside, New York kept moving.
Inside, for the first time in a very long time, Steve Rogers let himself rest.
*
New York Stronghold, Conference Room
After breakfast, Alex gathered the local leadership for a meeting. The agenda was, naturally, his revenge plan against Captain America.
"Captain America is no match for me at all. I could take his life in a heartbeat if I wanted to," Alex said, sitting at the head of the table with absolute confidence. "But if you want to retaliate against a person—to make them suffer and despair—you can't just target the man himself. That's why I've picked a specific target."
Alex projected a photo. It was Steve's old lover, Peggy Carter.
"I saw this photo at the museum. I didn't expect Captain America to have such a tragic, unfulfilled romance. I guess even heroes have a weakness for women," He mocked.
The manager immediately chimed in: "Sir, I went through the relevant files last night. I can confirm that Peggy Carter is still alive."
"Is she? Even better. Saves me from having to dig up a grave."
The manager looked troubled. "However, I spent all night searching and couldn't find where she's hidden."
Alex's brow furrowed, and he glared at the man with dissatisfaction. This was his first time utilizing the organization's resources since joining, and the results were disappointing. Was their intel capability not as great as the rumors suggested, or was this manager intentionally sabotaging him?
Feeling that glare, the manager's face turned pale. "Sir, please let me explain! According to our data, Peggy is no ordinary woman. She has deep roots within SHIELD—she might even be one of its founders."
"SHIELD?" Alex scoffed. How powerful could a law enforcement agency be after Jason had literally blown up their headquarters?
"Sir, I understand, but a great ship asks for deep waters. If SHIELD wants to hide a woman, it's incredibly easy for them."
Alex pushed the files away in frustration. "So you're saying my plan can't be executed?"
"No, of course not," The manager waved his hands frantically. "No matter how good SHIELD's intelligence is, it's nothing compared to our organization. The key factor is that we have Ms. Chloe."
"Chloe?" Alex thought for a moment, then realized. "You mean the AI."
"Exactly. If Ms. Chloe wants to find something, with her superior intelligence and computing power, she'll have the answer in no time."
"I see. You want me to ask her for help."
"Yes, yes, exactly!"
Alex let out a deep sigh, his face clouded with worry. Since joining, he hadn't spoken a single word to Chloe. If he suddenly asked for a favor, would she refuse him?
"Fine. We'll leave it at that for now." He bypassed the topic, thinking that if all else failed, he would ask the Boss to step in. "One more thing: you must do this perfectly. Starting today, place the Captain under close surveillance. I want to know his every move, but remember—do not alert him."
Surveillance was the organization's bread and butter. The manager breathed a sigh of relief. "Absolutely no problem. Leave it to us."
"Good. Meeting adjourned."
Once the room was empty, Alex sat alone and contacted Chloe. Rumors about her and Jason were flying all over the organization. He expected that with Jason's favor, she would be as arrogant and high-handed as Harley. To his surprise, she was incredibly easy to talk to. The moment he made the request, she agreed without a second thought.
With the matter of Peggy settled, the preliminary work was complete. Alex's revenge plan was about to begin.
*
When Sharon opened her eyes, the sunlight outside was already scorching.
Is it noon?
She reached out across the bed, but the sheets were cold. The man was gone. However, the disarray of the bed told her that last night was no dream. Not a dream, but more surreal than one. Sharon collapsed back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling with a complex gaze.
Perhaps influenced by her aunt, she had harbored a crush on Steve since her adolescence. When she heard he had awakened, she was as happy as Peggy. Most importantly, Steve fit her ideal standards perfectly. That first meeting in the hospital had left her so excited she couldn't sleep. Later, when Fury moved Steve into the SHIELD apartments and tasked her with protecting and monitoring him, she felt as if fate had finally arrived.
But after he moved in, they hadn't shared much dialogue, mainly due to her identity. She was Peggy's niece; she knew the history between Steve and her aunt better than anyone. If she truly got together with Steve, her aunt might support her, but how would the world see her? Steve had a wall in his heart, but so did Sharon.
She thought they would continue in that stalemate indefinitely—until last night, when she saw the sorrow on his face and lost control. She swore to God that the drinks were truly intended to comfort him. Unfortunately, alcohol numbed their brains; while it released Steve's stress, it also stripped away all control.
"Sigh..." Sharon's mind was a mess. She didn't know what to do next. "My head hurts... I need to stop overthinking. Better go home and wash up."
She climbed out of bed, her hair a tangled bird's nest. Taking out her keys to open her own door across the hall, she suddenly heard footsteps on the stairs. She turned around, clutching her head.
"Er..."
Their eyes met. Silence. Steve was wearing a workout tank top, drenched in sweat—likely just back from the gym.
"You..."
The moment he spoke, Sharon's face turned bright red. She spun around, ducked into her room, and slammed the door. She didn't know what Steve was thinking. Was it just a one-night stand to him, or something more? She was terrified the answer was the former, so she didn't dare speak to him. At least not yet.
Steve raised his hand to knock, but after a moment of hesitation, he went back into his own room. His metabolism was far from normal, so he had woken up early. While Sharon was still fast asleep, he had sat on the sofa with a coffee, calmly contemplating their relationship until he reached a final answer.
You have the day off today. Let's go out for lunch.
When Sharon stepped out of the shower, she saw this text message. In an instant, a wave of intoxicating sweetness washed over her.
*
Speed was essential. In just one morning, the surveillance on the SHIELD apartments was established. To monitor Captain America, dozens of vehicles and hundreds of people from various New York strongholds were deployed in shifts. High-tech wiretaps and cameras were everywhere.
The Captain was a national icon; the Joker organization wasn't the only group watching him. To avoid detection by SHIELD, the organization had deployed its elite. From the moment the net was set, intel flowed back in a steady stream:
"Steve is in the shower!"
"Steve and a woman are leaving in a car!"
"Steve and the woman have appeared at a restaurant in Manhattan!"
"Steve and the woman are shopping after lunch!"
"Steve bought her a dress!"
"My God, Steve actually kissed her!"
In the New York stronghold, Alex stared at the reports, dumbfounded. Wasn't Steve's old lover Peggy? Where did this blonde come from?
"Investigate! I need to know who she is!"
He sent the surveillance photos to Chloe for facial recognition. Minutes later, her identity was clear. Alex was even more stunned. She was a nurse at a New York hospital—but more shockingly, she was Peggy Carter's niece!
Steve, you bastard... you're playing both ends. Messing with the whole family.
Beyond the shock, Alex began to think. Peggy was a high-profile figure; would her niece really be just a simple nurse? Did SHIELD really not care about nepotism or security clearances? Alex suddenly had a bold idea and told his theory to Chloe. He wanted her to use Sharon as a lead; it might be the fastest way to find Peggy.
*
New York has been quiet lately. The mass murderer Alex seemed to have vanished into thin air. SHIELD couldn't find a single clue despite searching high and low. Steve and the agency didn't know why, but Steve was happy for the reprieve. He and Sharon were in the middle of a honeymoon phase, and it was better without distractions.
He had no idea that every move he made was being watched by the Joker organization. They knew exactly how many times they had kissed and how many times they had been intimate.
Meanwhile, following the lead on Sharon, organization members went undercover at the hospital. After a few days, they hit pay dirt. That night, Chloe contacted Alex in the group chat.
Chloe: This old woman is Peggy Carter. She's been hidden in a special ward on the top floor of the hospital. According to our investigation, the entire top floor serves only her, and the hospital is crawling with SHIELD agents.
Alex:Perfect. Now that I have her location, my plan can begin.
Harley:What are you going to do? Charge into a New York hospital? Aren't you afraid the Iron Legion will swarm you?
Alex:Of course not. This requires strategy. And I have one more name to add to the target list.
Franklin:Go get 'em, kid. I'm waiting for the news.
A-Train:Every core member gets an opening performance. Don't mess yours up.
Franklin:Speaking of opening performances, the Boss and I took on a biker gang back in the day and made off with a fortune.
Stansfield:I once stormed a prison to save the Boss.
The associates began boasting about their legendary debuts. With their encouragement, Alex was brimming with confidence. He called the base leadership together once more to finalize the plan.
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
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