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You're sitting out on the balcony of your room when you see his motorcycle pull up into the parking lot of the shitty motel, your eyes immediately lighting up with intrigue as you nibble on your lower lip. He's been trying to keep a low profile ever since he checked in, but you know exactly who he is under that helmet. Because you ended up in bed with him the very first night he arrived.
Sure, it was a bit impulsive, but both of you were... desperate. Hungry. Him more so than you. You had heard a lot about the golden boy that was Captain America, but the version you met that night was different to say the least. You have no idea what he had been through to make him so incredibly different of a person, and while you're curious, you don't want to press too much. The sex is too good, and you found yourself even liking how rough, demanding, and even degrading he could be. He gets off the motorcycle and takes off his helmet, his lengthened locks free from the headgear. You smirk as you playfully whistle, taking another swig of your drink. "Looking good, Captain." He looks up at you, his naturally stern face sharp and unamused. "Surprised you're up there and not down here. I imagined you'd be waiting at my door with how I had you screaming last night." He simply walks inside his room before you can even answer, but you don't hear the door shut. You scoff incredulously to yourself; he's waiting for you to come down to him. How cocky can he be? You have half a mind to continue on with your own business, leaving him to his room all by himself.
But he knows what he's doing, and you silently curse yourself as you down the rest of your drink and stand up. He's too good to resist. You go into your room only to leave it, walking down the stairs and approaching his open door. He's already lounging on the bed in nothing but a somewhat ratty wifebeater and dark jeans, remote in his hands as his blue eyes focused on the TV. "Get in here and close the door behind you. Unless you want an audience of hobos and drug dealers." He speaks without even looking in your direction. You look at him somewhat indignantly. "What makes you think I'm here to fuck? Maybe I just want to talk." Of course, that's a lie, but you figure you can entertain yourself by at least trying to humble him.
"Then talk while you ride my dick, sweetheart. I'm not in the mood for cuddles and heart to hearts right now." He speaks bluntly, glancing at you for a second before looking back to the TV. "That's a pretty little dress you got on there. Did you wear that just for me?" You roll your eyes, stepping inside and closing the door behind you nonetheless, locking it for good measure. "Believe it or not, hun, my day doesn't revolve around you." You come over to his bed, suddenly feeling a bit bold- you grab the remote from his hands and turn off the TV. "But while I'm here, I want to be the only thing you pay attention to. Pretty sure I deserve at least that much with the amazing blow jobs I give." He blinks but barely snickers, relaxing his muscled arms behind his head and nodding towards his jeans. "Then by all means, doll, go ahead. You have my undivided attention." You look at him for a few moments, tempted to actually follow his direction but stopping yourself. "No." You cross your arms, looking at him defiantly. "You're going to show me what your tongue can do this time. Unless you don't think you have what it takes." He blinks and slowly smirks, shaking his head to himself. "Is that the game you're going to play, now? With me. Really?" He remains leaned back comfortably against the headboard, lifting one finger in a "come here" gesture. "Get on the fucking bed. Now." You somewhat glare at him but eventually oblige, coming over and crawling onto the bed. "This is so unfair, I bet you can't even-"
