complexfemalecharacter | [steve

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steve

[steve - december 18]

It's probably dumb, but Maeve is actually sort of nervous about the party. The last time she went out and got herself a pretty dress and went somewhere like this with a boy, he'd ended up just getting drunk and ignoring her, leaving her feeling like shit, and then her brother's stupid crap had ended up getting her kicked out of school.

She tries telling herself it's different this time. Steve isn't like Jackson, for one, even if she hasn't figured out what the hell she's doing with him yet. And there's no school to get kicked out of, no Sean to fuck things up for her. No Otis to be an idiot at her, no Ola to make her feel even more like garbage.

It's just a party, she's told herself. One that could be a lot of fun if she let it. So she'd gone to her favourite second hand shop and searched until she found the dress, somehow the perfect fit for her and the right price. She has silver shoes and a little silver shawl to go over it, and she's done her hair up, swept back on one side, curled and cascading over her shoulder on the other.

She's even wearing less makeup. Not no makeup, but the black liner isn't quite so heavy and she's taken off some of her jewelry.

All in all, she feels quite pretty. She also can't stop nervously bouncing her knee as she sits on the couch and waits for Steve to arrive.

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Fuck. She's going to have to say something. It's stupid, they're both adults, they should be able to just use their words, but Maeve's default has been to just shut down and flip people off for such a long time that she's honestly not sure she knows how to have a conversation like this.

In Maeve's experience, things like this end up in fights. She doesn't want to fight. She sort of just wants to go back to how things were before Steve caught her flirting. It's all so bloody stupid and she feels stupid as they retrieve her coat and bag.

"Look," she says as they step out to get their car. "It's just... we never said... and it wasn't anything. Just... talking." She's already fucking this up, she can tell.

It's awkward, and Steve doesn't know what to do about it. He doesn't know what to say, so he just does his best to pretend that everything is fine as he gets her coat and her overnight bag from the coat check and requests a car. There's one right out front, thanks to the party, so at least they don't have to stand there and wait too long.

"You're right. We never said," Steve tells her in as calm a voice as he can manage, but there's a tiny bit of an edge to it, one that gives away that he's kind of upset. "So, it's okay."

He opens the car door for her and gestures for her to get in, and then hands her the bag before sliding in next to her and confirming the address. This is not at all how he expected this night to go, and he isn't sure how it's meant to continue.

They're almost to the mountain by the time he nearly works up the courage to speak, going so far as to open his mouth, but then it shuts again and he furrows his brow, reaching out to take her hand and thread their fingers together. "But-- uh, we should probably talk, right?"

Right, so he says it like that, in that way that lets Maeve know he's actually bothered by it all and she had known this was going to happen. She's known right from the start that she would find some way to screw this up and make things weird. Worse than fucking up a potential relationship, though, now she's going to lose her friend, just like she did with Jackson and with Otis.

This is why she never wanted a boyfriend. This is what Aimee didn't seem to understand.

They ride in silence for most of the way and Maeve wishes she could smoke, then chews on her thumbnail again as she stares out the window. Beside her, she can sense Steve trying to talk, then deciding against it, and somehow that makes it worse. What she doesn't expect is for him to take her hand and she turns back to look at him, her eyebrows drawn together.

He wants to talk. Not just bail, but talk, and Maeve finds herself nodding before she glances at the driver.

"Once we're checked in, yeah?" she asks. If she's going to get dumped, she'd rather not do it in the car with a witness.

"We're already checked in. I came up earlier to take care of that and get some stuff ready," he tells her, which makes him feel kind of stupid now, like maybe it was just misplaced eagerness.

The car pulls up to the main entrance of the lodge, and Steve lets go of Maeve's hand to slide out of the car, waiting for her to join him before waving the guy off. The doors slide open automatically to let them into the entry hall, and Steve just feels awkward. He imagined them tipsy and happy by this point, unable to keep their hands off of each other.

As they wait for the elevator, Steve pulls out his wallet to extract the key card, flipping it nervously between his fingers. The trip to the room seems to take forever, silence dragging on and on, and he's both relieved and even more nervous as he lets them into the room. It's a small suite, one where the tub is visible from the bed but in a classy, sexy sort of way, he thinks. Not sleazy.

There's a bottle of champagne chilling in the mini fridge, and some bath stuff he left on the corner of the tub, and he's now glad that he didn't go with something a little more showy. After flipping on the lights, he shrugs out of his blazer to toss it into a wing-backed chair near the window. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass, and the snowy landscape beyond, and then turns to look at Maeve with a helpless shrug.

Merry Christmas, he thinks, but he doesn't say it.

This sucks and it's her fault.

Maeve kicks off her shoes because her feet hurt and she sits down on the edge, then flops down on her back and stares up the ceiling. The room is amazing and she's a shitty person, that's pretty much the only conclusion she can come to and she wants to drag her face down her hands, but that would just fuck up her makeup and she actually cares whether or not Steve still thinks she's pretty.

It's all so goddamn stupid.

"Fuck," she says. "Look, I'm really bad at this stuff."

Somehow that makes it sound worse and she closes her eyes and breathes in deep, trying to figure out what the hell she's trying to say. But she doesn't know. She really has no idea. She likes Steve, that's all she knows for certain, but she's fucking that up pretty royally.

When Maeve flops back onto the bed, Steve looks around, unsure of what to do with himself. A part of him feels the urge to just say fuck the talking and crawl into bed with her, because they're so good at that part. But he doesn't.

"Yeah, you've said." He doesn't say it in any accusatory sort of way. It's just a fact. She's told him this before, and at the time, Steve said he was fine with it. At the time, he probably was. Or maybe he was just lying to himself, thinking he could be this cool guy who didn't get hung up on feelings. So really, if anyone has changed the terms of what's going on here, it's him.

He pulls the chair up to the foot of the bed and sits in it just so he's not standing over her, and he can't pace around. For a long moment, he just thinks to himself and tries to work up some sort of nerve to actually say what he's feeling. It feels like he would rather sink through the floor.

"I'm not mad," he finally says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he stares at a fixed point on the duvet. "Whatever you've got going on with that guy? I'm not mad. We never said we were exclusive, and I got the impression that maybe you weren't into that? And, I don't know, I guess I tried to tell myself that I wasn't either."

He swallows hard and bites the inside of his lip nervously, brow furrowed a little. "But I am, as it turns out. I was just kidding myself."

"I don't have anything going on with that guy," she answers, rolling onto her side slightly and looking at Steve. "We're not allowed to smoke in here, are we?"

God, she really wants a cigarette, but she knows this place is likely too fancy to allow it, so she flops over onto her back again. For such a long time she was so good at keeping herself apart from others. Her parents both screwed her over, then Sean screwed her over, and Maeve figures if you can't trust your own family, why the hell should you trust anyone else? Guys are even worse. They're horny and they think with their dicks and they don't think before they say something that'll literally ruin someone's entire reputation and she knows it isn't fair for her to paint every guy with the same brush, but it's not like any of them have done anything to change her mind.

Even Jackson, who had been so good, had turned into a dick just because they'd broken up. She knows he was hurt, but he hadn't needed to be such a prick about it. And Otis had been even worse. He was supposed to be her friend and then he'd treated her like the slag everyone claimed she was.

"He's just a friend," she says. "We kissed once, ages ago, but not since then and there's nothing else, it's just... fuck it. Come with me."

She goes to her bag and grabs her combat boots, shoving her feet into them, then pulls her jacket on over her shoulders and goes looking for her cigarettes. When she's got them, she looks at Steve expectantly and nods for him to follow her. "Bring any booze we've got, yeah?"

"Not unless you feel like paying the three hundred dollar smoking fine," Steve replies, watching her as she rolls to look at him. She's so fucking beautiful, and he wonders if he's about to lose her entirely because he can't just be happy with what they have.

The news makes him feel kind of relieved, and then he feels like being an asshole for being so relieved because he doesn't have any sort of claim over her. It's not like he wants to have any claim over her, either. He just wants her to want only him, which feels kind of pathetic.

He furrows his brow as she gets ready to leave the room, but she's asking him to come with her, so he doesn't really question it. The only booze he brought is champagne, and this doesn't really feel like a champagne moment, so he grabs the bottle of vodka from the mini bar that will probably cost him about a billion dollars, puts his coat, and follows her towards the door. "Lead the way."

Maeve leads them outside in silence, surprised by how quiet it turns out to be. Maybe a lot of people are still at the party or because it's just some random Friday in the middle of the month, no one has come up here yet, but the hot tub is empty.

Hot tubs are really her thing, but she still sort of wants to get into this one. It might take a lot of the tension out of the situation if she just got in it fully clothed.

Instead she walks toward a bench that overlooks the view of the mountain and sits, propping her boots up on the railing, then lights two cigarettes and passes one over to Steve. After the first drag, she feels a little steadier, a little less like she's about to puke, and so she looks over at Steve and smiles just a little.

"I like you," she says. "I really like you. But the last guy I liked... he was my best friend, too. I knew he liked me, I knew he... I knew he more than just liked me and when I finally told him, he blew me off. He told me we couldn't even be friends. Then he got drunk at some party he had and acted like a complete fucking arsehole and I... I didn't just lose my chance with him, I lost my best friend. D'you understand?"

Maeve hands him the cigarette and Steve is reminded of just how well they work together, and how much he doesn't want to lose her. After taking a drag, he sits down on the bench next to her, mirroring her position by putting his feet up on the railing next to hers.

When she starts talking, he feels hopeful. By the time she's finished, he doesn't really know how to feel, other than angry at the asshole who treated her so badly. He doesn't understand what she's trying to say, not really, so he takes a moment to consider her words.

"Maeve, if you don't want to be my girlfriend, I'd still be your friend," he assures her, shrugging helplessly before taking another deep drag. "I mean, yeah, it'll truly suck for a bit because I really like you, but I wouldn't want to stop being your friend."

He doesn't understand and Maeve rolls her eyes fondly, then holds her hand out for the bottle he'd brought with them. For the most part, she's not an excessive drinker, but tonight feels like the sort of night when she kind of needs to be a little bit drunk.

"That isn't what I mean," she says. "I'm only trying to tell you why this stuff freaks me out. Why maybe I'm so bad at it. I like you a lot and it scares the shit out of me, because everyone fucks off. Everyone. My dad, my mum, my brother, my best friend. Any time anyone knows me or I get attached, they fuck off and I'm not saying you'll do that, but there's a pattern in my life. And it scares the shit out of me."

When Maeve gestures for the bottle, Steve unscrews the cap and takes a long drink before handing it over, wincing slightly at the burn. The liquor settles warm in his belly and he turns his head to listen to her, feeling his expression shift into something sympathetic. And understanding.

"Maeve." He shifts his cigarette to his other hand so he can take Maeve's hand in his own, threading their fingers together as he looks at her face and tries to figure out what to say to that. "Look, I can't promise that we'll be together forever or anything, but we're young, right? We can't promise anything. But I don't just like you because you're hot, and I want to sleep with you. I mean, those things are true," he says, giving her a teasing smile to try and lighten the mood. "But I like you because you're an awesome person, and I'd like to think that we'll always be friends, no matter what happens with the other stuff."

He lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of hers, and then gives her another playful smile before letting his expression go comically serious. "That, and I'm stuck in the city. I literally cannot fuck off."

She really thinks he means that. Or, at the very least, he thinks he means it, even if she can't see how it would be true. People don't stay friends after they've broken up. There's too much baggage there, too much pain, and she wants to say as much, but she feels like she'd only be twisting the knife at this point.

Steve might not be able to leave Darrow, but he can still hurt her. He can still fuck off.

When he kisses her hand, she realizes she has to make a decision. Either she can believe him when he says this and let this happen, or she needs to step away right now before either of them get in any deeper and one of them gets hurt. It isn't that she expects any promises, she's just scared, but she's pretty sure Otis would tell her being scared is part of the package.

"So what?" she asks, taking a drag off her cigarette and blowing the smoke away into the cold night air. "Are you my boyfriend now?"

Steve knows that it's possible to say friends after a break up. He and Nancy are still friends, kind of. They don't really hang out or anything, and they might be bound by shared trauma more than anything else, but they know that if one of them ever needed anything, they could count on each other. So yeah, it's possible.

The question makes him laugh, and he wants to say yes, but instead he takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales it up into the sky before leaning over to rest his chin on her shoulder.

"I'd like to be, but I'm pretty sure that's your decision," he tells her, looking at her hopefully and raising his eyebrows. "So what, am I?"

Maeve's mouth twists and she chews on her thumbnail, then takes another drag from her cigarette before finally shifting slightly, enough that she can look at Steve from the corner of her eye. She'd like him to be, too, even if for such a long time she'd thought she didn't want a boyfriend.

There's still a risk and she knows it. The choice is hers. He's left it right there for her to answer one way or the other.

"Yeah," she says after a moment, her mouth still twisted into a funny little smile. "I guess you are."

"Yeah?" Steve lets out a happy laugh, and then a deep sigh of relief as he tips his head back to look up at the sky for a moment. It's like a weight has been lifted, because he's been twisted up over this for awhile, and now it's worked out just as he hoped it would.

No, there's no guarantee that this will last, but there never is, and that's no reason not to try.

He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales into the sky before sitting up and dropping the butt to the ground, crushing it with his heel before twisting and leaning over to cup Maeve's cheek and lean in for a soft, lingering kiss.

"Does that mean that we can go make use of that hotel room?" Steve asks as he nudges their noses together, smiling widely before kissing her again. "Or should we keep freezing our asses off out here?"

Nights like this don't generally happen to girls like her. Maeve is okay with that, she's used to it and she's always been happier being on her own. She's not sure who really changed that about her, whether it was Jackson or Otis, or maybe it was Aimee, always telling Maeve she could have more than she did. Whoever it was, now she's here, wanting more.

Wanting more with Steve.

She smiles into the kiss and then nods. "Yeah," she agrees. "Let's go make use of the room before you freeze your balls off and you can't make use of anything anymore."

Steve laughs at that, because he is so stoked that this is happening. He thought that he didn't want a girlfriend, but he was wrong. He didn't want just any girlfriend. He wanted to hold out for a good one, someone who gets his humor and calls him out on his bullshit, someone funny and kind, not to mention gorgeous.

And now he's got one. He's got Maeve, who has just made him happier than he's been in a long time.

"Yeah, well, your nipples look like they could cut glass," he volleys back, because yeah, he's snuck glances at her tits in that dress even now. After kissing her again, he grabs the bottle and takes her hand to lead her back inside of the hotel. His cheeks flush with the temperature change, and he tucks the bottle under one arm so he can grab the key card from his pocket.

Once they're in the room, Steve sets the bottle down on the desk and then turns to look at Maeve, his gaze going heated as it travels over her. Then he surges forward to press her gently back against the wall, cupping her cheek to tip her head back so that their mouths can meet in an eager kiss.

"Is this more what you had in mind?" He asks with a smile, pressing their foreheads together as he pushes the jacket off of her shoulders. Once it falls to the floor, he kisses her again and reaches down to grip her dress, tugging it up her thighs so he can grab them and lift her up, urging her legs around his waist as he kisses her again, almost giddy with desire.

"Better than sitting out in the cold," she agrees, letting her coat drop, kicking off her boots as Steve lifts her. The dress is tight enough that she had needed to buy proper knickers for it, a lacy little scrap of a thong she'd never wear normally, but it had felt kind of sexy and it had meant none of her underwear was bunching up under the tight fit of the dress. And now it feels almost like she's wearing nothing at all as she gets her legs around Steve's waist.

This is a lot better than sitting outside, but they'd needed to have that conversation. And they'd needed to do it somewhere other than this room. She's not sorry they left, because now the room is still their getaway and not a place where they had this serious talk.

Maeve slips her arms around Steve's shoulders, her fingers gripping him tight as she sinks into the kiss and she rolls her hips, pressing herself against him. He's still dressed, which makes it hotter and so she does it again, the friction of her stupid fancy knickers making her moan.

Steve is so glad that they talked, and finally tackled something like adults, but now all he wants is to be inside of her, to make her shiver and moan, and maybe it's because he's so relieved. Maybe he just wants to celebrate.

He shifts their bodies so that her shoulders are braced against the wall and he can hold her up with one arm, using the other to drag the front of her dress up a little more. The small scrap of lace between her legs sends a jolt of arousal through him, and he kisses her again, biting softly at her bottom lip as he reaches between them to rub her cunt through the fabric, dragging the tips of his fingers along her slit until the fabric is soaked though.

"Please tell me that you bought these for me," he breathes out, laughing softly as he hooks his finger in the fabric and tugs it aside, pressing his hard cock against her inner thigh as he twists his hand to sink two fingers inside of her, practically gripping at her cunt as he kisses her again, voice pitched low and almost desperate. "I know that there's a bed right behind us, but can I fuck you just like this?"

Maeve doesn't really do anything for anyone, but that's not really the sort of thing that's going to make this night better and that's all she wants. Besides, maybe she sort of had bought the stupid knickers for Steve. She'd bought the dress with the idea of impressing him, even though she knows he likes her just as much in her shorts and tights and combat boots. So if she'd bought the dress for him -- at least a little bit for him -- then maybe she did buy the underwear for him, too.

She'd known he would see them, after all. And she'd known he would like them.

"Fuck," she says on an exhale, leaning her head back against the door, holding tight to Steve's shoulders. She was going to answer his question, but then his fingers sink into her and her muscles tighten around him with a moan. Holding one of his shoulders, she pushes her hand down between their bodies, reaching for his belt, pulling it open so she can get his pants open as quickly as possible. "Yeah, right here."

He lets Maeve pull his pants open and then slides his fingers free, tugging her panties aside and then pushing his pants down enough to tug his cock out. Once again, Steve finds himself grateful for Maeve's birth control, because they don't have to stop. He can just position himself at her entrance and thrust up into her, burying him in her cunt with a low groan.

It's certainly lacking finesse, but that's okay. Steve puts one hand under her ass and braces the other against the door, catching her mouth in a messy kiss as he fucks her, panting breathlessly and turning his head to kiss at her jaw, then her neck. He feels overwhelmed by how much he wants her, how much he likes her, how good she feels around his cock, hot and wet and tight.

"You feel so good," he tells her, smiling against her jaw and nipping lightly at her soft skin as he rolls his hips, burying himself inside of her over and over again. With most of her weight braced against the door, Steve lets go of it to drag the strap of her dress down over her shoulder, sliding his hand along her bare skin before ducking his head to press his mouth to it.

It's a little dumb. Maeve knows the pill isn't one hundred percent effective, she knows people miss pills or make mistakes and even without a mistake, it isn't perfect and she knows they should be taking other precautions, too, especially since she's already gotten pregnant once. But she also kind of doesn't care.

Which is maybe the dumb part of it all. She just doesn't care, because she likes Steve and against all her natural tendencies, she trusts him, and it feels so good when he can just sink inside of her like this. The door is hard against her back and his cock feels big inside of her, and she grabs at Steve, holding tight to him as she gasps.

"Fuck," she exhales. "Steve."

Yeah, this isn't going to last long.

Usually Steve doesn't have any complaints about his stamina, but he feels like he's been keyed up all night, since maybe the moment he first saw Maeve in this dress. So there's that, and the relief in knowing that this thing he's been worrying about is behind him now, because Maeve wants to be his girlfriend. She wants him.

Honestly, he kind of loses track of time as he fucks her, thrusting up into the tight grip of her body as he mouths at her neck and shoulder, panting against her skin. Still, his orgasm rushes up faster than he'd like, and he has enough awareness to pull out of Maeve just before he comes, splattering her inner thigh with it instead. Yeah, she's on the pill, but hopefully they're going to fuck a lot this weekend. No need to take extra risk.

Still panting, Steve pulls her away from the door and carries her over to the bed, stumbling on jelly legs and sort of tossing her onto it with a laugh. She didn't come, and he definitely wants her to, so he drops to his knees in front of her and pushes her dress up over her hips and drags her panties down, looking up at her before leaning in to bury his face between her legs, flicking his tongue over her clit as he sinks two fingers inside of her and curls them upward, groaning at the taste of her.

It's not as if she'd expect Steve to leave her high and dry; they've had really good sex so far and she doesn't think that's going to suddenly change, but the way he just kind of drops her on the bed and shoves up the hem of her dress is almost stupid in how hot it is. She helps him push the underwear down, kicking them off the bed, and she can feel his come on her thigh, wet and still warm, just before his fingers sink into her and he has his mouth pressed to her cunt.

And god, it's so good. Steve knows what he's doing and he's enthusiastic as hell, which counts for so much more than natural talent, but he's got that, too.

She gets one leg over his shoulder, pressing herself up against him, her back arching as she moans and sinks her fingers into his hair. "Fuck," she says again. "God, you're good at this."

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