Steve's costume is tricky, even for him, and he helps Loki along by undoing all the various buckles, zips and clasps, letting his armor all fall unceremoniously to the floor and leaning back to remove his underarmor. His chest is bare and the color in his cheeks extends a little past his neck, a slightly flushed pink. His lips are a kiss-stained pink, his eyes blown.

"You never asked," he counters, swallowing hard as he registers Loki's purring.

He reaches for Loki's hands to pin to either side of him, hiking him up encouragingly on his thigh, and diving back in to nip and suck at the juncture of Loki's neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark if only he were human. And he knows he would regret that-- leaving an impression. He will probably regret these memories, but a good portion of war is spent waiting and Steve's done his fair share of that. Even if they're enemies tomorrow, they aren't today, and here and now is what should presently count, lest another century pass Steve by.

Steve lifts Loki's body with his full weight instead of lowering his head, still holding his hands and clutching onto them as he peppers kisses on Loki's chest. It's almost sweet.