𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 • 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

23 • And So It Begins

Millie rolled over in bed, pulling her arms in close to herself as she watched Steve snoring softly. At some point in the night, sleep did take over her, but it didn't last long, she was wide eyed again soon enough.

The sun was just beginning to rise, and her alarm clock was set to ring in twenty minutes, waking herself and Steve to get up and ready for day they had been dreading.

As much as Millie wanted to let Steve sleep, she didn't want to be thrust into busying herself before the station. She wanted to be with Steve, one last time, like normal.

She placed a cold hand on his bare chest and started rubbing gently. "Stevie?" She whispered. "Wake up, honey."

Steve's eyes shot open, clearly not having been in that deep of a sleep. "Millie?" His voice was this with worry. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Millie felt tears line her eyes as his arms reached for her, pulling her into him close. "I'm okay Steve, I just didn't want to be alone right now."

He kissed her temple and rubbed her back. "You're not alone, Millie. I'm here. I'll always be here."

The tears that had brimmed Millie's eyes finally fell as she began to sob into Steve's bony chest. "I don't want to go."

"I know," he hushed. "But maybe it won't be for that long, you'll be back with me soon enough."

Millie had no idea how Steve was being so calm, how he wasn't crying hysterically. What Steve knew, however, is that the moment he was alone, he would be.

Millie manoeuvred herself so she was more on top of Steve, and hovered her head over his. "Love me." She cried.

"Hm?"

"One last time, Stevie. Love me."

Steve placed his hands on Millie's hips as her forehead touched his. "It won't be the last time, sweetheart." His hands lowered until they found the hem of her nightgown and slowly started to lift up the material over her hips.

Millie wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightie, she hardly ever did anymore. Her core was dripping, craving Steve for what she was worried would be the last time. Her desire was evident.

She pressed her lips to his softly, her wet cheeks pushing up against his. Images of her life with Steve started to flash through her mind, of their first time, of their most exciting times. All the times that filled Millie with love– both metaphorically and physically.

Steve felt himself grow hard, his boner pushing into her lower stomach, restrained by his loose boxers which didn't seem so loose anymore. He moved his hips up, yearning for any possible friction as his right hand lingered around her heat.

He gently traced her entrance with his fingers, coating the tips with her slick before locking onto her clit and rubbing. Millie let out a whimper against his lips, and her left hand started to slowly caress his cheek, dragging it down his jaw to his neck where goosebumps were starting to form.

"So wet..." Steve groaned, his early morning voice croaking.

"Please, Steve..."

His fingers stopped moving and with all his might he flipped Millie over so she was on her back, hair sprawled all around her with the early morning light dancing on her skin.

He shimmied his way down her body where her exposed heat was, and pushed her legs up, situating his face between her thighs.

His slightly stubbly jaw scratched at her sensitive skin, but she didn't mind. Her hands found his hair and she tangled her fingers between the strands, tugging lightly.