What, the adrenaline of giving our charming head nurse a heart attack isn’t doing it for you?

[just - give him a second. he’s enjoying the fingers in his hair, likes the soft strokes and scratches against his scalp. he does wish they were in a real bed, with less clothes

reality is, well, here. his briefs are sticky, he has the taste of Steve’s blood and come on his tongue and they might have broken their - their Steve.

reluctantly he pulls himself up - tucks Steve back into boxers and pants, pulls his shirt down to a respectable midriff length and sighs as he stretches. ] You wanna let him sleep while I wheel you into the bathroom, killer?