It took absolutely every ounce of willpower, but when Steve leaned over Sam, pressing his hips forward, he did so as slowly as possible, bit by bit, knowing that they normally took a hell of a lot more time to get Sam ready to go. His body curled forward, head dropping forward, as his hands gripped the bedsheets for some kind of leverage as every muscle in his body flexed. Sam could scratch up his back all he wanted - Steve liked the sensation, arching his spine into Sam's touch even while he pressed forward, sliding deeper with every heartbeat, his breath coming in shallow pants and his pulse roaring in his ears. Still, he tried to listen for any sounds, watch for any signs that Sam wasn't okay, wasn't quite ready, because he would stop, let them adjust, if he had to.