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, Steve," she moans, knowing she's close, knowing it's coming. Her body feels like it's riding the crest of a wave, being pushed along as it rises higher and higher, before it suddenly crashes against the shore and she crashes with it, shuddering against Steve's mouth. Her muscles clench tight around his fingers and she moans again, her breath catching, chest hitching as she feels the heat and the pleasure rolling over her.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, holding on, her thighs tightening around him, and then suddenly she goes limp, dropping back against the bed with an exhausted sounding laugh.

"Christ," she says, grinning up at the ceiling, her thigh still looped over Steve's shoulder.

When Maeve comes, Steve feels triumphant. He's never had that much trouble getting girls off, probably because he genuinely enjoys putting in the effort, but he feels especially proud with Maeve. She comes so beautifully, and she deserves to be treated right. She deserves all the pleasure in the world.

"Steve, actually," he jokes once he pulls away, turning to nip playfully at the inside of her thigh as he eases his fingers out of her, wiping them on the corner of the bed before shifting so he can stand up and fall on top of her, catching himself on his elbows before he can land on her.

"Where's the zipper on this thing?" He murmurs, leaning in to kiss her as he tucks his hands under her back to try and find the clasp of her dress. "It's time for us to be naked now."

"On the back," she says, laughing as she squirms under Steve's weight, turning over onto her stomach beneath him so he can properly reach the zipper on her dress. It's partly that she wants to make it easier for him and partly because she likes this, feeling his weight pressed against her from behind. It's undeniably hot.

The conversation earlier in the night had been awkward. Maeve isn't good at this sort of thing, being someone's girlfriend, having proper talks, acknowledging her feelings. She's still sort of worried she's going to fuck it all up and she really doesn't want that, so she's got to try. She has to make the effort, even when she doesn't know what that effort should be.

But right now, Steve's right. It's time for them to be naked.

She wriggles around underneath him and Steve laughs, lifting up enough to unbutton his shirt and pull it back over his shoulders, tossing it into the chair next to the bed. Once her back is presented to him, he moves her hair aside to unzip her dress and then unclasp her bra, leaning down to kiss her between her shoulder blades as he works her clothes down off her body.

Her underwear comes off too, and Steve tosses her clothes into the chair before wriggling out of his own pants and underwear. The get stuck on his shoes, which he still has on, and he laughs as he finally gets naked and collapses down on top of her again, pinning her to the bed as he buries his face into the curve of her neck.

"Clothes are terrible. Let's never wear them again," he murmurs, tickling at her side as he drags his tongue up behind her ear. "Life would be so much better if we were always naked."

"Might be hard to go anywhere," she points out, closing her eyes and tilting her head at the press of Steve's nose against the back of her neck. She likes this, his weight on her, his skin against hers, and although she knows it isn't going to happen again immediately, she still lifts her hips a little so she can properly press her ass against him.

"I don't think they'd let you into work naked," she continues. "And I'd probably get kicked out of Barton before I even started if I showed up without any clothes on. Never mind trying to get groceries."

Then she grins. "And Robin would hate us both."

"Ugh, never mention Robin when my dick is out," Steve groans, even though he wanted to put his dick in her once upon a time. But that was for like, half a day, and now she's like his sister and ew.

"Okay, fine, Miss Logic." He gives Maeve's ass a playful slap before crawling over her to flop onto the other side of the bed, scooping her into his arms and pulling her in until they're on their sides, face to face. "I'm willing to compromise. How about no clothes while we're in this room, then?"

Grinning, he leans in for a lingering kiss, and then pulls back to give a sarcastically put upon roll of his eyes. "You can still wear clothes at school, or whatever."

"I'd thought you'd prefer that," she jokes as she settles into the circle of Steve's arms. "All the creeps staring at me is bad enough when I'm fully dressed."

But Maeve has a tendency to put them in their place. She doesn't take shit from anyone and she sure as hell isn't going to start now that she's in Darrow or has a boyfriend. When it comes to other guys looking at her, she doesn't need Steve's protection. She'll take care of that herself.

"No clothes while we're in this room, but, another compromise," she says. "We can at least put on the robes to answer the door when we order room service."

"Oh, you're gonna have to put out way more if you think I'm springing for room service," Steve drawls out, only because he knows that Maeve will recognize it for the joke that it is. Honestly, he'd order her whatever the hell that she wants because he's so happy that he's here.

It feels like a relief, and he doesn't think he even realized how hung up he'd been on all of this until it was finally sorted, and all the uncertainty was gone. He can finally relax.

Smiling, he lifts his hand to brush her hair back from her face, twisting a strand of pink around his finger as he watches her face. "Do you want to try out that tub?

"I think you mean you'll have to put out if you expect me to spring for room service," she answers with an arched eyebrow and a little smirk. She leans up to press a kiss to Steve's mouth, then sits up on the bed and slides off, moving in the direction of the fancy tub he's just asked about.

Maeve has never had a tub before. There's one in the flat, but since she and Rue share the place, she does her best not to take much time in the bathroom, showering quickly and then doing everything else possible in her bedroom. The caravan only had a shitty little shower stall, nothing else, and this tub makes everything else look like garbage in comparison.

"I'm putting all this in," she decides, grabbing a bottle of bubble bath and flipping the cap before she turns on the taps.

"Oh, you've got yourself a deal." Steve returns the kiss and then rolls off of the bed to follow Maeve towards the tub. She picks up the bubble bath and Steve laughs at her declaration as he leans down to pull out a bottle of champagne that he stashed in the mini bar. They could just drink from the bottle, but he wants to make things nice so he grabs two flutes from next to the ice bucket.

"If you put all of that in, we're gonna have bubbles up to the ceiling," he tells her, smiling as he picks up a purple bath bomb and gives it a sniff. It smells like lavender, and he shrugs before tossing it into the tub. It immediately starts to fizz and Steve perks up as the water starts to turn purple. "Ooh, that's fancy."

A few years ago, Steve might had acted like he was too manly for a purple bubble bath, but now he's no longer a massive idiot (at least in regards to masculinity), so he's very excited about the whole thing. "But it's your bath, babe. Do what you gotta do."

"We never had a tub at home," she says as she dumps some of the bubble bath into the rushing water, but not all. Even though, bubbles to the ceiling or not, she still sort of wants to. "The caravan just had this stupid little shower stall with barely enough room to turn around in and the toilet was right there. I did my makeup in this tiny handheld mirror most of the time."

Sometimes she'd do it at school where she had a bit more room, but that had mostly stopped as the bullshit had gotten worse.

"This whole tub is bigger than my bedroom was," she tells him. Technically it had been her mum's bedroom and she'd slept on the sofa, but once Erin had fucked off, Maeve had taken over, refusing to let Sean have the room just because he was older.

"I grew up in a huge house," Steve tells her, but he isn't trying to brag and he hopes she doesn't take it that way. He just wants Maeve to know him. "But it was always empty. I'm pretty sure my parents only had me for like, the optics. That's what they were supposed to do. But I was always alone."

He shrugs, because it always feels strange to talk about his upbringing, like he can't complain because he had a big house and money. At least he had that. Maeve didn't.

"Come on, let's get in," Steve says, kissing the side of her head before standing up and stepping into the giant tub once it's almost full. After turning off the tap, he settles against the back of the tab and pats at the surface of the water between his legs, smiling up at her.

Steve's story makes her think of the essay she wrote and the way Miss Sands had reacted, telling her she could have bigger dreams than just a house with windows and chairs so she could maybe feel a little less alone. It makes her chest feel tight, thinking of Steve in the very scenario she had wanted so badly for herself, knowing it was sad all at the same time.

Maeve steps over the edge of the tub and sinks down into the water between Steve's legs, leaning back against him.

"So," she says. "I had to write this essay when I started in this advanced class back in Moordale. My teacher wanted us to write about the future, what we wanted, and I didn't realize we had to read them out in the class. Everyone wrote these inspiring pieces about changing the world or completing triathlons and the only thing I managed to write was that I wanted a house with big windows, so at least I could look out and see the world, no matter how alone I was."

Maeve settles between Steve's thighs and he wraps his arms around her, overlapping them under her breasts as he relaxes back against the tub. As she tells her story, he listens and reaches up to gently move her hair back, curling it around the back of her neck before resting his hand on her shoulder.

"It's not all that it's cracked up to be," Steve tells her quietly. "I mean, I know I was lucky to have a big house and not have to worry about money. I do know that. I just wish I didn't let that privilege define me as much as I did, but it was all I had for so long."

He squeezes her gently back against his body and leans in to press a kiss to the top of her shoulder before nuzzling behind her ear. "I wish you could have been there with me."

"No, I know," she says. "Because that's the thing, isn't it? You can live in a caravan park or you can live in a mansion, but either way, if you keep people out, you're still alone."

Maeve is an expert at keeping people out. She knows she is and she wants to be better, but it's hard when so many people have disappointed her in her life. Her parents, her brother, even her friends, the few she'd allowed herself to have. Her peers called her cockbiter and slag and no one, not one single person, ever stood up for her.

How is she meant to let anyone in after all that?

But Miss Sands had wanted her to try. And so she is.

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[steve - december 18]

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