1. Stevie Boy

Phil Coulson never assumed anything. He never assumed that Captain America would actually be found; he never assumed that Captain Rogers would ever wake up from his frozen state; and he never assumed that Steve Rogers would even notice that Phil Coulson (aka “number1capfan” on tumblr) even existed. Phil pulled a header the first time he really had a chance to talk one-on-one with the Captain, and came perilously close to hurling himself out of the back of the jet in mortified embarrassment. Only years of experience as one of the top field agents in the world kept him presentable.

But then the proverbial shit hit the fan, Phil died (for three minutes) and the Avengers became an actual thing, with their own PR department that Phil actively avoided at all costs. He considered Pepper Potts a personal friend but she was on his speed dial list for entirely different reasons.

So four months later Phil was surprised to discover, at a baseball game, that he and Captain America were friends.

They were in Stark’s private booth because they would get mobbed otherwise, and not a single other Avenger was there because they were all “soulless heathens who did not appreciate the Great American Pastime.”

(That was a direct Cap quote, which Phil really wanted to share with someone besides Steve himself, but such was the price of fame that Phil had eventually and reluctantly deleted his tumblr and Yahoo Groups accounts, because that was too close to creepy.)

But they were friends, because they did stuff like this fairly often, and sat next to each other during movie night (if only so Coulson could quietly explain certain cultural references), and spent a lot (a lot) of time in Coulson’s office going over briefings and white papers. Steve was a brilliant tactician and had clearance as high as Phil’s, so they really enjoyed doing forensics on ops or tearing apart a new political analysis by the intelligence staff. Good times.

Sometimes Phil caught Steve giving him a blank look, which Phil carefully ignored, because “blank” on someone as passionate and vibrant as Steve Rogers was just plain wrong. At the moment, Steve had thrown more than a few of those looks at Coulson during breaks in the game, but they were friends so Phil was willing let it ride. At least while the game was still going on.

After the game they rode Steve’s bike back to the tower, and Phil tried not to feel like a virginal teenager with a crush as he hugged Steve tightly, hanging on while Steve took corners at too high speeds and barreled through traffic, splitting lanes. Steve was as much an adrenaline junkie as any of the Avengers, it was practically part of the job description, and a selfish part of Phil’s mind didn’t mind the excuse to press his body closely up against Steve’s back.

More than a few adolescent (adult and counting) fantasies had started out just like that, and Phil was only human.

They got up to the residential floor (which was actually two floors knitted together with sunken common areas and a lot of stairwells in strange places) and Steve stood in the main foyer giving Phil one of those blank, empty expressions for a long moment. Phil let him. He was used to waiting, professionally and personally (it had been two years since he had gotten laid, after all) and it didn’t cost anything to be generous to Captain America, after all.

“Phil?” Steve cocked his head, looking down at him.

“Yes, Steve?” Phil said calmly, still and possibly forever getting a thrill out of calling him by his first name.

“Are we dating?”

Phil lost the ability to talk while he parsed that out, panicking a little at how badly he must have hidden his basest interests in Steve. He opened his mouth to say something like, “no!” or “definitely not!” or even “Why do you ask?” but Steve stepped in, closing the distance between them.

“Because I really hope we are.”

It was all the warning Phil got before Steve leaned over him and kissed him. It was just that, a kiss, no grabbing or holding on or mashing of bodies together. Steve’s arms hung at his sides and he kept nearly a foot of space between them, but the kiss was loving and full, mouths melting together as Steve pressed his suit. When Steve pulled back, Phil was flushed with embarrassment and shock and an unholy glee, but Steve’s face was blank again.

Phil reached up (and up) and placed his hands firmly on Steve’s chest. “I would like it if we were. But I know this is all new for you, and—”

“Not that new,” Steve said stiffly, his face going even blanker.

Phil opened his mouth to ask before realizing they were still in the foyer, so motioned for Steve to follow him instead. He took them to his suite, which he realized was a terrible, terrible idea the second they stepped into the main living area. Or, as Barton liked to call it, the Temple of Rogers. Phil stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Steve looked around, his blank expression gone for a moment.

“Jeeze, Phil, is all this real?”

Phil coughed. “You mean original? The framed posters, yes, they are all salvaged from your USO tour. The life-sized shield was a special replica done for the Stark Expo in ’64; the figurines are all first editions.”

Steve just stood blinking.

“The comics are, ah, in a special humidity controlled locker.” He pointed at the filing-cabinet sized piece of furniture in the corner. “Along with the various trading card sets.”

“Various?”

Phil shrugged. “The first set is the most valuable, and the most highly sought after. But Captain America trading cards were in almost continual print from 1947 through 1980.” He opened his mouth to start explaining the big scandal that surrounded the crappy 1994 re-issues, but shut it again. Steve had the blank expression back on.

“So, this…our friendship, is it all hero worship?” He waved a hand between them.

Phil stalled, because no, it really wasn’t. “Maybe at first? I’ve been a fan of yours since I was five years old, Steve. That’s not something I can, or want, to forget. I went into the Army because I wanted to emulate you.” He sighed, shrugging off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair before undoing his tie, trying to get comfortable for what was already an uncomfortable conversation. “But now, I think of us as friends. Colleagues. I may never really get used to working with Captain America but Steve Rogers is someone I care about and whose company I enjoy.”

Steve made an odd, strangled noise and was suddenly wrapped around Phil like an octopus. There was something so needy and anxious to the kiss that Steve slapped down on him that Phil pushed him off just enough to look him in the face. “What is going on?”

Steve held him closer, causing Phil to nearly put a crick in his neck looking up, but sighed in defeat. “I miss it. Even in basic training, I could find guys like me, who liked what I did. But then I got the serum and…and guys like you never saw me anymore. Not as me. And you do, you see me.” Steve lowered his head, his forehead resting on top of Phil’s head.

“You mean, gay men? Homosexuals?” Phil managed to get the words out despite his shock. He knew everything about Captain America, had read all 17 biographies that had been printed over the years and he did not even know how many studies, papers, and fandom meta posts but he had never seriously thought that Steve was gay or bi. Only the most fringe scholars and fans ever tried to speculate about anything outside of “Rogers ♥ Carter” and they were usually cut down ruthlessly.

Steve let out a heavy breath. “It all came to a halt after the serum. No one…no one wanted me. Like that.”

Phil blinked. “You’re joking.” He pulled back again to look up at the radiantly handsome features of what had to be one of the most good-looking men ever born. Phil thought Steve had been attractive even before the serum, in a very delicate and feminine way. His looks had changed but the level of pure beauty had not.

Steve let his hands drop away, but he didn’t step back. “No. I got offers, but they wanted me to be the guy. You know?”

“Which guy?”

Steve stared at him. “The guy.”

Phil shook his head. “I don’t know who you are talking about.”

Steve’s face crumpled up in frustration. “The guy, Phil, they wanted me to be the guy, to, you know, be on top.” He looked pained to say it, and it took a couple of more seconds for what he meant to sink in with Phil.

“You.” Phil stopped there then had to shake himself. “You know it’s not like that today. A man can enjoy sex with other men and, er, play both roles.”

Steve nodded, breaking away quickly to go sit on the couch and put his head in his hands. “I know. I’ve read up on it, how it’s about sexual identity and gender roles…but it’s hard for me to change this. I know what I am, what I want, and how I want it.” He looked up at Phil, who was still stuck in the middle of the room, locked in shock. “Phil, you’re, ah, the kind of guy I like. A real man’s man. You’re tough and smart and classy. You remind me of Humphrey Bogart, okay?” Steve blushed a brilliant scarlet red, but did not look away.

Phil had about 1000 things to say to that, but what came out was “Bogart?”

Steve’s uncertainly slipped into a shy grin. “I think it’s the suits. But yeah.”

“Well, come here, then,” Phil said, pointing at the ground in front of him, because enough was enough and Phil was not going to throw the moment away. Just as quickly, Steve leapt up and body slammed into him into the wall, kissing him hard, his hands wrapping around to latch onto Phil’s back as his very interested hips pushed against Phil until there was no further back he could go.

“Uhf, right now, not feeling like the man,” Phil gasped, meaning it as a joke, but Steve looked mortified.

“Sorry!” He spun them around, spreading his legs to lower himself as he pulled Phil between them to rest their hips together. Phil put one hand up on the wall to steady himself.

“God, Steve!” Phil laughed.

Steve looked sheepish. “This was easier when I was 110 pounds and 5’3”.

Phil ran fingers lightly down Steve’s hairline to his neck, causing Steve to close his eyes and shudder. “But you don’t miss that, do you?” Phil whispered.

“No,” Steve said, his voice weak, his head tipping back under the touch. “Not that. But this? Yeah. Damnit, Phil, I’ve missed this.” He buried his face into Phil’s neck. “I want you to smother me, I need you to take me, I—uhgh.” Steve stopped, gasping for breath.

Phil finally felt himself taking control of the situation then, at the thready, desperate sounds Steve was making as Phil very lightly rolled his hips just a little. He settled his feet solidly under him, leaning into Steve as he moved his head forward into a kiss. Steve, who had fifty pounds and six inches on him, was loose and pliant, even as he basically held them up, using his superior strength unconsciously.

Phil’s mind raced with the implications. Every Captain America fan had seen the photos of Steve Rogers as a scrawny, sickly kid, and remembering them made Phil realize that Steve had probably been used to men using him, carrying him around, fucking him up against walls and…it was hot. Phil felt a rush of shame thinking of Steve in those terms, as something frail and “unmanly” (by the terms of the era that Steve grew up in, as much as it pained Phil to think it), but it was turning him on and he did not want to stop.

He reached down and grabbed Steve’s ass hard, as if he intended to haul him up. It was a ludicrous suggestion because Phil could possibly carry Steve maybe a yard, tops; but it was enough for Steve who threw his head back and groaned loudly, his hips thrusting for purchase against Phil’s body. Phil mouthed wetly at Steve’s neck, trying to figure out how to do what Steve wanted without breaking his back or, worse, humiliating himself.

He used his hands to press Steve against the wall and put some air between them. “Steve, trust me. Baby, come on.” Phil cringed at the unintentional, un-ironic use of “baby” but Steve moaned again, so Phil put that one away for exploring later. He pulled Steve, turning him around, then put a hand up on Steve’s shoulder and applied pressure.

“Phil?” Steve asked, tipping his head to the side to look over at him, even as he sank down to his knees, graceful and so obedient. Phil shivered.

“I’m going to take you. Right here, just like you asked me to.”

Steve’s eyes snapped shut and he breathed in heavily through his nose.

“But there are logistics…you’re taller than I am. On your knees I can do more to adjust for our height differences.” Phil wasn’t sure what, exactly, but he was planning to climb that mountain when he got there. Steve was just nodding anyway, his eyes tightly closed.

Phil pulled Steve’s shirt off of him completely, tossing it aside. He ran his hands over Steve’s impossibly perfect back, massaging muscles lightly but pushing hard enough to tip Steve into the wall. Steve’s hands came up, bracketing his body as he positioned himself instinctively to Phil’s touches, his hands and forearms flat against the wall. His breathing was heavy, just short of gasping.

“I got you. It’s going to be so good. Everything you’ve missed, Steve, I promise you.” Phil reached around and unbuckled Steve’s belt, then undid his pants, shoving them as far down his thighs as they would go. Phil ignored Steve’s cock, instead caressing Steve’s perfect ass. Steve whined a little, but stayed still, letting Phil have his way with him.

Part of Phil wondered where this had come from; whether it was a factor of Steve’s youth as a small, effeminate looking boy or if it was some deeper submissive need. This was nothing like Captain America, and Phil didn’t want him to be, even if the evidence of Steve’s perfect body wasn’t proof enough of who, exactly, Phil was debauching.

“Phil?” Steve’s blue eyes bored into him over his shoulder, and Phil realized he had stopped, lost in thought.

“Thinking about how beautiful you are,” he said, which wasn’t a lie.

Steve blushed. “Oh come on, jeeze. I’m like an ox now.”

Phil squeezed Steve’s ass. “No arguing with me,” he said in his sharpest commanding tone, and Steve simply melted to it, his body slumping forward against the wall. Phil closed his eyes to calm himself down. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and stood up, cutting off Steve’s disappointed groan by stepping forward, pressing his knees into Steve’s back, his erection rubbing at Steve’s neck. Phil leaned over, looking down, using his body to shield Steve from the light behind him. “Look at me.”

Steve looked up. The motion pressed the back of his head into Phil’s erection, making both of them gasp. But Steve’s expression was steady, lucid and demanding. Phil smiled down at him. Steve may have been the bottom all his life but clearly that never stopped him from trying to be in charge. Phil held his face between his hands, his fingers running over Steve’s jaw down his neck.

“I need supplies. I need lube and condoms, because I am going to fuck you into this wall.” He gave a slight smile at the way Steve’s whole body clinched up. “I’ll be right back. I want you to touch yourself. Stroke your dick, keep yourself hard for me. Will you do that, Steve?”

Steve’s skin was flushed and burning hot to the touch as he nodded. “I want…I want something.”

“Sure. Anything. Tell me now.” Phil kept his hands firmly on Steve’s face, as he looked straight down into those brilliant blue eyes.

“When we’re like this, I mean, you know. Here. When you fuck me. Can you call me Stevie?”

“Oh, oh Jesus,” Phil gasped for air as his breath was dragged out of him as if by suction. He slammed his body forward and his hips pumped frantically for a moment as the lightening hot arousal sped through him. He rolled his face against the wall, realizing that he had Steve mashed up against it. “Touch yourself.”

Steve audibly gulped for air as one hand moved down. Phil couldn’t see it, but Steve’s arm motions told him everything as Steve stroked himself, his chest and face pressed into the wall by Phil’s body. Steve’s head was tilted to the side, his ear and cheek flat to the wall, his eyes closed and his mouth open and wet. Phil pushed two fingers in, and Steve started sucking automatically.

“Stevie, get me wet. I can’t hold off…if we’re doing this, we’re doing this here, now, like this.” Phil’s hand was shaking but he stroked his fingers in and out of Steve’s mouth. “Tell me, let me know if you don’t want it like this. Stevie. You have to say yes.”

“Yes! Please, please, yes. You can’t hurt me. You can’t.” There was a desperately sad note to his voice.

Phil traced Steve’s lips with his wet fingers. “Would you want me to?”

“I…I…used to.” Steve captured Phil’s fingers again with his mouth. Phil wasn’t sure what Steve meant by that, but he figured (he hoped) they would have time later to sort that out. He used his other hand to undo his own pants and shove them down. He pulled his fingers out of Steve’s mouth and reached down. He only had to bend over a little to reach Steve’s ass, and as he pressed one wet finger into the tight clinch of muscle, he realized that if he went to his knees behind him, their heights would still be off. Cursing under his breath, he took in Steve’s state. Steve was resting his forehead against the wall since Phil had moved back, and he was still jacking himself with long, slow strokes.

Phil groaned involuntarily as he pushed a second finger in, stroking Steve from the inside out. Then he stopped. Sensing it, Steve froze. Curious, Phil pressed his thumb against the underside of Steve tail bone, so his hand was like a gun, his fingers shoved up Steve’s ass while his thumb was the trigger on his spine. He pushed up.

Amazement and awe flooded Phil as Steve responded, moving forward and up until his knees raised off the ground, his toes digging into the carpet for leverage. Steve put one hand on the wall, the other still clutching his cock, and used that hand as a brace and a lever, pulling himself further up as Phil kept pushing. When Steve’s ass was level with Phil’s dick, Steve was on his toes, his knees pressed into the wall for support, completely vulnerable in the odd, tenuous position.

He was beautiful.

“Ready? Stay there, Stevie. Stay right there, I’m going to fuck you so good.” Phil pulled his fingers out, Steve whimpering but staying put. Phil spit into his hand and spread it over his own dick. It would not really be enough, but he knew he could not do a lot of damage to Steve, and apparently what burn Steve might feel would be welcome. As he lined himself up, he spit down onto himself, more for his own sake than Steve’s, then pushed in.

Steve tipped his head back and let out a long, throaty noise that would have been a howl if it was louder. It was pain and desire and need, and Phil grabbed at Steve’s hips to steady himself.

“God, it’s been too long, hasn’t it? Stevie, my Stevie, I’ll take care of you, baby, I’ll make you feel wonderful.” Phil couldn’t stop the chatter, nervous and amazed as he fucked into Steve’s body. He could barely control his thrusts. ‘Long and slow’ was not on the agenda, he figured that out as his hips took off without him, slamming into Steve with wet, slapping noises.

“Phil! Oh, please. Fuck. I need—”

“Do it. Do it! Come for me, Stevie. Come for me, boy, let me see you cream yourself.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open wide, his tongue poking out the side as his arm went frantic. He jerked and slammed himself against the wall, taking Phil with him so that Phil nearly unseated himself. He adjusted his feet just as Steve came with a gasping, high-pitched cry and clinched around him, and that was it, Phil was gone. He threw his hands out to the wall and fucked his whole body long and hard into Steve, Steve groaning and spasming under him. Phil came with his own rumbling groan, biting Steve’s ear as he emptied himself into Steve’s body, his rhythm broken and his heart thundering in his chest.

Phil was still shaking as Steve finally started sinking back down the wall to his knees. Phil wrapped his arms around Steve, clutching at his shoulders, feeling something like a mollusk as he rode Steve down. When Steve was settled, Phil pushed off and out into a controlled roll so that he ended up on his ass between Steve’s feet.

Steve still wasn’t moving.

Phil studied him for a second, then snapped his fingers. “Stevie. Here, come here.”

Steve looked over his shoulder at Phil warily, suspicion and shame clear in his eyes.

“We’re not done yet, Stevie. I want you to do what I say.”

Steve nodded and shuffled around. Phil grabbed him and pushed and shoved and arranged them until they were both sitting on the floor, facing each other, Steve in his arms with his head on Phil’s shoulder. Steve was big and heavy and Phil could not hold the position long, but he figured one step at a time.

“Thank you,” Steve said, his voice soft.

“I would never just walk away.”

“Most would. Most did.”

Phil’s jaw clenched in anger but he continued petting Steve’s hair. “Not me. You’re my Stevie, my beautiful boy. Can I have that?”

Steve seemed to collapse against him, then, giving himself over to Phil even more fully than during the sex earlier. “Yes, please.”

Phil nodded, looking around at his Captain America collection. It all looked fake and silly, compared to the man in his arms.

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