The Eyes Of A Boy

Author’s Note: This is the rewritten version of a previously uploaded story from a couple of years ago that was intially inspired by a prompt. I am curently rewritting the sequel and would love to potentially continue the story based the reception.

Steve stood on the balcony, clutching the railing as he breathed in the saliferous ocean air. The California sun had risen but was reluctant to fully present itself from behind the clouded curtain.

Despite being in nothing but jeans and an undershirt, Steve isn't bothered by the early morning chill. The night had ended, taking with it the ecstasy and euphoric haze, leaving the light of day to expose and scrutinize the nefarious acts done concealed under the blanket of darkness.

While Steve Rogers had spent decades perfecting a false, unflappable persona, in reality he lived his life akin to a car spinning on an icy track; always just barely managing to maneuver his way around the obstacles in his path. Now his figurative car had crashed, causing irreparable damage to the most important relationship with the most important person in his life.

The voluptuous Malibu mansion sat upon its perch that overlooked the water, and Steve envisioned his body hurling towards the jagged rocks beneath. Perhaps the waves would then take pity on him and wash him out to sea, absolving him of all sin.

Even with the Super Soldier Serum heightening his senses, never before had he experienced anything as physically or emotionally overwhelming as what he had sexually experienced as of last night. Steve had decades worth of countless sexual partners, men and women alike that had stepped through the revolving doors of his monotonous life; only there for a night and soon forgotten. Yet after last night Steve knew he could truly live forever and never forget last night.

The memory of last night was still so prominent that even now he could clearly hear the passion filled moans and cries he had evoked from his sexual partner. His tongue recalls the taste of perspiration on glistening skin. His fingertips tingle with the sensation of the dips and planes of the lean, muscular body they had been permitted to freely roam. His eyes are still looking into the blissfully blown, chestnut brown eyes of the most beautiful man he's ever seen.

Then in juxtaposition to the tantalizing memory of last night, his traitorous mind interrupts the image of the man from last night with the memory of a dark-haired little boy with the exact pair of chestnut brown eyes.The boy is running towards Steve, smiling at him with the unmarred smile that comes with the purity of innocence. The answering shame hits Steve like a sharp jab to the stomach and he tastes bile in the back of his throat. His feet feel unsteady beneath him and he grips the railing with such force that the metal bends under his enhanced strength.

What have I done!?