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Chapter Text

He’s turning the page of his book when the bathroom door opens and Agent Lewis steps out in a cloud of steam. He tries very hard not to focus on her nipples, hard peaks through her thin t-shirt or how tiny the grey shorts she’s wearing are and how rapidly his blood is flowing south with the thoughts turning over in his head. “Any word from HQ?” Darcy asks, and he shakes his head, looking back down at the book in his hands. “Come on baby, speak to me,” she croons to her laptop leaning over her bed and tapping a few keys. “Maybe another hour or two before the decryption is finished. TV?”

He grunts in agreement and shifts his knees up a little higher, lowering his book to cover his erection. He really needs to stop looking as Darcy flops down on his bed, her tits bouncing. Steve grips his book a little too hard. She surfs through the channels settling on an episode of I Love Lucy.

He concentrates on the book in his lap and not her proximity, but his eyes keep straying to her pale legs, and every breath he takes is filled with the intoxicating smell of her shampoo. Citrus flowers he thinks, wants to bury his nose in her damp hair, press her down into the soft bed and kiss the smile from her pink lips. He’s so occupied with turning his thoughts away from the places he doesn’t want them to go, it takes him several minutes for the moans and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh to trickle through his foggy brain.

"We are not watching pornography," Steve grits out, reaching for the remote in her hand.

"Aw come on Captain...oh my god, is that even possible?" Darcy exclaims and his eyes flick over to the tv and away again just as quickly. He doesn't answer just presses random buttons on the remote. "Can you do that? You know with your super serum-y goodness?"

"We aren't talking about this," he mutters and rolls his eyes, but he can feels his face heating up.

"Oh my god you totally can. That's awesome," Darcy grins and smacks his chest with the back of her hand. "Ow. Fuck, you're hard," she says shaking her hand. Her words are innocent, no matter how ashamed he is at their inadvertent truth.

"Find something else to watch," he suggests, pressing the remote back into her soft hand, pushing away the thought of what it would feel like to have her small hands wrapped around his dick. Fuck.

"I'm bored," Darcy says not long after she’s surfed through all the channels. Steve axes the show with the vampires, and a movie about fuck buddies. Darcy turns her head to look at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes, lips curled up in a predatory grin. His belly flips traitorously, and he forces himself not to squirm under her gaze. "Sooo...you wanna get off?" she asks and it takes his brain several long seconds to process.

"What?" he splutters, sitting up, book slipping from his lap, landing on the floor with an ominous thud. "You want to..."

"Double click my mouse? Hell yeah. I’m bored," Darcy says, her grin sharp. He swallows hard as she reaches over and switches off the light above the bed.

"Okay," he says lowly. He tells himself he is just calling her bluff, half expects her to burst into laughter and retire to her own bed. Only she doesn't do any of the things his mind supplies, instead she wiggles her ass into the bed, spreads her knees apart and slips her hand under the elastic of her shorts. Steve groans low in his throat. Oh damn.

He has never been good at backing down from a challenge.

Darcy makes the smallest breathy moan and he presses the heel of his hand against his cock though his sweats. There is only the faint glow of the infomercial playing on the tv. "This is a bad idea Darcy."

"Look I'm horny and bored. We can't leave the room. And I'm not going to have sex with you. No offense, you’re hot as fuck but I like to date the men I take to bed," Darcy says and pushes her shorts down her hips.

"And this isn't sex?" Steve asks, because he can't not. The same way he can't tear his eyes away from the movement of her hand inside her purple panties.

"Nope. It's masturbation, the stimulation or manipulation of one's own genitals, especially to orgasm. Sexual self-gratification," Darcy says, her words punctuated by a soft moan.

"Right," Steve says dryly because there is no way this isn't going to bite him on the ass.

"Yup."

"You're an idiot, Rogers," he mutters under his breath. He looks up at the ceiling, licks his palm, and eases his hand into his sweats. Wrapping his fingers around his cock, squeezing tightly to ease the ache. Darcy's breath hitches and he lets his eyes wander over the curves of her body. Her left hand is buried in her panties, her right hand toying with her nipple through the thin cotton of her t-shirt, lip caught between her teeth, eyes focused on the movement of his hand in his pants as he strokes himself.

"So did they play 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' back in your day, Cap?" Darcy asks and his hip jerk at the thought of seeing her naked.

"Tits or gee tee eff oh," he says solemnly, or as solemnly as he can with his hand around his cock while he jerks off with a junior agent he’s meant to keep watch over. He's going to the special hell.

"Fuck. I didn't think you could get any hotter than your ass in your Captain get-up. Sarcasm is my kryptonite, Captain," she says, slipping her hand from her panties and shimmying them down her hips.

"It's Steve. Captain America would not have his hand around his cock jerking off while on a surveillance mission," Steve mutters. He stifles a groan when Darcy tosses her panties on the floor, and spreads her knees wide. The light of the tv illuminating the pale flesh of her thighs and the dark triangle of hair above her sex. Darcy runs her hands up her abdomen grabbing the hem of her green t-shirt and tugging the front up over her tits. "Christ," he mutters, tightening his hand on his dick and circling his thumb over the crown.

"Buck up, Steve," Darcy says, her voice a low purr that sends a shiver down his spine and his dick to throb. She slips her hand back between her legs, trailing down between the lips of her sex, her hips roll and he desperately wants to sit up to see her bury her fingers inside her pussy. He is so fucked. Or not as the case may be.

"Damn," he mutters looking up at the ceiling as he follows her lead, letting go of his cock to shove his sweats down, until his dick is free and the elastic of his sweats lies tight across his thighs. He circles his hand back around his cock, swiping his thumb over the head gathering the drop of precome beading at the tip.

"Fuck, you're huge," Darcy exclaims and his cheeks burn hotly.

"Am I allowed to say how gorgeous your tits are," Steve asks. He leaves out how much he wants to touch her, kiss and lick and bite that perfect pale skin, bury his face between her legs and taste her. "How fucking gorgeous you are?" Darcy's breath hitches, face flushing and she shakes her head the tiniest bit then arches her back twisting to give him a better view as she toys with her nipple. Rolling his hips up, he works himself a little faster, twisting his wrist on the upstroke and Darcy moans. Oh, hell.

"Close," Darcy says, licking her bottom lip. His skin feels electric, heat curling in his belly as his balls tighten. Her eyes are dark behind her glasses, her cheeks flushed pink, and her lips bitten red. Her eyes flicker down to his left hand where he’s clutching the blankets. He licks his lips and turns his hand over, reaching out for her. Darcy pulls her hand from her breast and laces her fingers with his. She gives his hand a squeeze, nails biting half moons into the back of his hand.

There is something raw and honest in their hands, damp palms pressed tightly together, that it makes his heart ache inside his chest. "Steve," she cries out as she comes, her back arching up off the bed, pale thighs trembling.

Steve tightens his grip on Darcy’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over hers as he pumps his hand over his dick. He let his gaze wander from her had still pressed between her thighs to her breasts shuddering with the last aftershocks of her orgasm. He's close. He imagines burying his cock in the cleft between her tits. "Fuck," he mutters a moment before he shudders and comes all over his hand and his t-shirt. He lays still, eyes closed tight while he breathing evens out. He doesn’t try to think about how long its been since he came that hard. He rolls his shoulders and sits up with a grimace, hand still wrapped around his softening dick.

“Here,” Darcy murmurs, offering a box of tissues from the bedside table. He murmurs his thanks and reluctantly lets go of Darcy’s hand to mop up the mess. Steve tugs his soiled t-shirt up over his head, and she hums happily beside him. When he looks at her she grins and pulls her own shirt back down, which is a terrible shame to him. Her eyebrows raise but she doesn’t comment on his expression. He pulls his sweats up at the same time she puts her little shorts back on. “We’ll have to do that again some time,” Darcy grins crookedly sending a shiver down his spine. He is so fucked.

Chapter Text

The television playing wakes him with a jolt. Steve jerks up, focusing on it, reaching blindly for the remote to switch it off. Another infomercial selling something no one needs. A thin band of sunlight stretches across the bed from the gap in the heavy drapes. He drops his head back on the pillow and his eyes flutter shut.

Darcy shifts beside him turning to curl into his side, her left hand warm on his bare stomach and he freezes. She makes a little humming sound, snuggling closer, her hand rubbing a small circle that sends heat rushing through his body. Images of the night before play across his mind and he is fucked. He isn't one for blushing much, but last night, that shouldn't have happened. So much for being Captain Fucking America, jerking off with a junior agent. Fuck.

She'd been fucking glorious, with her hand buried between her thighs, her gorgeous tits and all that pale flesh he wanted to run his hands over, lick and suck and bite. His dick ached in his sweats at the memory, while Darcy stirred, her nails scratching against his abdomen.

"Hey," she murmurs and he opens his eyes to see her pink lips curving into a grin.

"Good mornin'," he mumbles. Darcy swirls her index finger in a circular pattern on his abdomen. He shifts, he definitely doesn't fucking squirm.

"Mmhmm," she murmurs her eyes roaming over his bare chest and then down to his tented sweats. "Very good."

"I should go shower and check in," he says trying not to groan as Darcy trails her nails down to the edge of his sweats.

"That doesn't sound like any fun at all," Darcy says and wets her lips, her eyes trailing up his body to meet his gaze.

"Well, you know how it is with old folks. No fun any more," Steve says dryly and Darcy makes that same humming sound.

"Always did like older captains. Picard and Buck Rogers," she winks and skates her nails along the elastic of his sweat pants.

"Buck Rogers. Really, Darce?" Steve arches a brow, eyes flicking from her face to her hand teasing the edge of his sweats.

"He was a captain in the tv show, not the original comics. There were lunch boxes and action figures just like Captain America," Darcy says, licking her lips, and tapping fingertips against his hip bone. "Shame they weren't anatomically correct."

"A shame," he says, swallowing hard at the wide grin spreading across her face.

"It's a good thing the real Captain Rogers is so very...real," she says turning her head to glance down to where her hand rests just above the bulge in his sweats. Darcy hums and runs her fingertips along the ridged length of his cock. It twitches and Steve curls his toes and tilts his hips.

"Darce," he gasps and god he should stop her, pull her hand away as she swirls her index finger over the head of his dick.

"Yes, Captain?"

"What are you doing?"

"Playing a game?" Darcy answers, flashing a wicked grin and trailing her fingers down his length to trace patterns through the the cloth covering his balls.

"I thought you didn't want to have sex?" he asks, spreading his thighs further apart, wanting more of her touch.

"This isn't sex."

"I think you and I have very different definitions of that word," he mutters arching his brows high, struggling to keep his hips from rolling up into her featherlight touch.

"Sex means feelings and commitment, at least it does to me. This is..." she explains as her fingertips trace along the outline of his dick. Darcy swirls her fingertips on the wet patch forming on his sweats and his cock twitches. "...me helping you out of your predicament."

"My predicament. Right," Steve says his left eyebrow twitching up. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to suppress a groan as she squeezes the head of his dick. "By all means, do so," he says, voice dropping low. There are so many rules they are breaking, so many things he shouldn't be doing. Things Captain America should never contemplate doing...except well he isn't Captain America now.

"Mhmm...pants off, Steve," Darcy orders and he's almost embarrassed at how much he likes the sound of his name on her tongue. Steve flexes his hands before shoving his sweats down till he can kick them off to the end of the bed. He wraps his hand around his dick, stroking down roughly, hearing Darcy's breath catching in her throat. He lets his hand fall away to clutch at the sheet.

Darcy lays her head down on his chest, drawing patterns with her fingertip on his skin. He grits his teeth, muscles in his abdomen twitching and his pulse thundering in his ears.

"So pretty," Darcy murmurs and finally, finally touches him, running the back of her nail along his cock. Her touch is light and teasing and he is torn between watching her explore his cock and slamming his eyes shut and giving into every feathery touch.

She curls her hand around him gently, like his cock was made of spun glass and it's fucking torture. "You gonna stop teasin' anytime soon?" he grits out, when her thumb rubs over the head of his dick, gathering the precome leaking from his tip.

"Maybe..." Darcy says, and he can feel her smile against his skin. "Maybe not." She loosens her hand from his dick, lets go of him altogether and licks her thumb clean. Steve groans and Darcy shifts, slipping her hand under the hem of her shorts between her legs. He grips the sheets tighter when she pulls her hand free, fingers glistening in the morning light.

"Fuuuck," he growls when she rubs her fingers over his cock, spreading her wetness all over him. She curls her soft hand around him and he thrusts up into it.

Her hand glides over him and for a few long moments he forgets himself and everything that he is, forgets all but her hand stroking him, her breath fanning over his skin, her lips pressing a kiss over his heart. Darcy’s grip is firm, thumb sweeping over the head with every upstroke. "Can I touch you? Re...reciprocate?" he gasps out when she twists her wrist and it’s fucking perfect.

"Wanna make you come first," Darcy says, shifting to graze his nipple with her teeth. He thrusts up into her fist, arousal burning through his veins and a string of curses falling from his lips. He’s going to hell. In a fucking hand basket. And really, he should care more about that than the press of Darcy's tits on his side, or the slick slide of her fist twisting on his dick. Fuck it.

"I'm okay with that," Steve says, shifting his arm from under her to wrap around her back. Darcy shivers and her hand stutters on his dick.

He smirks and slips his hand under the hem of her shirt. Darcy shivers again, gooseflesh raising on her skin as his calloused fingertips brush against her. He reaches down with his free hand to tug at the heavy weight of his balls. He's never going to last as long as he wants to with her hands on him.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, internally cursing at how needy he sounds. Darcy blinks up at him, head tilting to the side before she leans up to press their mouths together. It's sloppy, and wet, and so fucking perfect. The taste of her mouth, the hitch of her breath, and her moan leaves his head spinning. His heart is racing as he licks into her mouth, and Darcy's hand tightens on his dick. He moans and tugs at his balls. "Almost t...there," he gasps into her mouth and Darcy speeds up the pull of her hand on his cock, and the twist of her wrist that has his hips arching up off the bed.

He cries into her mouth when he comes, spilling over her hand and his stomach. He slides his hand up from his balls to cover hers as she works the last few shudders. "Jesus fucking Christ, Darcy," he mutters, pulling her hand away from his cock.

"So fucking hot," Darcy says, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. He looks around for something to clean up with and grabs his shirt off the ground. It's already stained with his come, a bit more mess won't matter. He holds out the shirt and Darcy wipes her hand on a corner of it before handing it back.

He grunts a reply and mops himself up, tosses the shirt on the floor and rolls to face Darcy. He pulls her close, nipping at her lips and settling his hand on the curve of her hip.

"My turn to play now?" Steve asks dryly and Darcy lips quirk up into a smile.

"Mmm yes."

"My hands or my mouth?" He asks, sliding his hand from her hip down to her knee and up again. "Tell me."

"I..." Darcy whimpers, color blooming across her cheeks. "Fuck."

He smirks, sliding his hand up to cup the heavy weight of her breast through the soft cotton of her shirt, rubbing his thumb over the hard peak of her nipple.

"Tell me," he murmurs, pinching her nipple and Darcy gasps, arching into his touch. "Because I know what I want. I want your hands in my hair, your thighs quivering next to my ears while I lick and suck and bite you. Make you scream m'name."

"Holy shit, Steve. That...Jesus...you’ve got a dirty mouth for a national treasure," she says rolling into her back and looking up at the ceiling.

Steve digs his elbow into the pillow and leans his head on his hand watching Darcy chew on her lip.

Her cheeks are flushed pink, blues eyes dark, lips pink and inviting. He gives into the temptation and kisses her. He licks into her mouth, curling his tongue against hers. As he kisses her, he slides his hand down her belly to slip between her thighs. Darcy gasps and her thighs fall apart for him. The fabric of her shorts is damp, and she squirms as he maps out her folds through the cotton. Fuck. She's like a goddamned furnace. "I wanna taste you."

"Steve..." Darcy whimpers rolling her hips up to meet his hand.

"Yes. That would be the name I've had since birth," he smirks, tracing around her clit through the fabric. "Steven Grant Rogers."

"Oh my god," Darcy says, and smacks his arm and he grins rubbing just a little firmer. "You are way too attractive with your sar...casim and that evil grin."

"I'm sad now, I thought you just wanted me for my pretty cock," Steve grins wider as Darcy's cheeks grow brighter.

"I was wrong. You're not a national treasure. You, Captain, are an ass," Darcy mutters and Steve moves his hand up to slip his fingers under the elastic of her shorts and tiny panties.

Darcy stifles a moan, grips his arm tight, nails digging into his skin as he cups her sex, damp curls against his palm, wet folds under his fingertips. The angle is awkward, the elastic of her shorts hindering his exploration, but her little gasping moans make it worth it.

"Like this?" he asks, sliding his hand up to lightly tease her clit.

"Yes," Darcy says, and bites her lip hard. "Your hand...t-this time." This time. He can work with that, even if he is dying to bury his face between her thighs. He leans in to bite her bottom lip, rubbing his fingers lightly over her clit, every whimper she makes goes straight to his cock. Darcy rolls her hips up and he pulls his hand out of her shorts. "Steve."

"Take 'em off," he orders, kissing her gently despite the roughness of his words. She shoves her shorts and panties down her pale thighs and he considers asking her peel off her t-shirt for a moment. Darcy wraps her hand around his wrist and drags his hand down where she wants it.

He chuckles and nuzzles her neck, letting her guide his hand between slick folds to press into her wet heat. He slides two fingers into her pussy and Darcy moans clutching the back of his hand.

"So hot for me. So fuckin' wet," he whispers into her neck, rolling his hips forward to press his cock against her hip.

"God...Steve," Darcy cries, as he works his fingers in and out of her body. He curls his fingers on the slow drag out, until Darcy is whimpering and reaching up to tug his hair and fitting their mouths together. He twists his hand to press his thumb down on her clit and she tears her mouth away, back bowing, thighs quaking, as she squeezes tight around his fingers.

He kisses her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth while he drags out as much pleasure as he can from her. Her thighs close with his hand between them and Darcy shudders, and tilts her head up to kiss him. Her lips curve into a smile against his mouth before she starts laughing, full and deep and he arches his brows, a smirk turning up the corner of his own mouth.

"Holy shit. That was awesome," Darcy grins and kisses him again. "Can I keep you?"

Chapter Text

It's ten past eight when Steve shuffles out of his room and into the Tower's communal kitchen. Darcy's standing at the counter on tiptoes reaching for a bowl on one of the high shelves.

"Need a hand, doll?" he asks and Darcy jumps, whirling around, her hand over her chest. It's a shame really she has such magnificent breasts.

"Holy shit, Rogers. You scared the bejesus out of me," she says with a pout. It's kind of adorable. "Bowl please. What is a bejesus anyway? My grandma says it and seeing as you're as old as dirt you'd know right?"

"Nice, Darcy," he says rolling his eyes, but he gets the bowl down anyway. "What do you need a bowl for?"

"Popcorn."

"And why are we making popcorn?"

"You can't have movie night without popcorn. And red licorice. Oh god, please tell me you don't eat black licorice?" Darcy pleads clasping her hands together above the line of her cleavage in her purple wife-beater.

"I like all kinds of sweet things," he answers, and Darcy wrinkles her nose.

"That was awful."

"So why are you having movie night here?" he asks while Darcy presses buttons on the microwave.

"Oh, Thor's back and I was Jane's ditchable prom date. So it's me and John Hughes tonight," she says bouncing on her toes.

"John Hughes?" he asks, ignoring the sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"John Hughes movies. Totes classic cinema. You wanna watch with me? 'Cause you're already in your jammies, old man," Darcy says with a mischievous grin as she looks down at his sweats. The same sweats he wore last week when they were on mission. Heat crawls down his spine and settles low in his belly, mind flooding with memories of Darcy's hand between her thighs, tits pale in the light from the television, her hand around his dick, the taste of her mouth. Well, fuck.

"We'll need more popcorn," he says leaning against the counter, grabbing the bag of strawberry flavored Twizzlers and tearing it open. He pulls out a piece and takes a bite before Darcy turns.

"Hey," she shouts grabbing at the bag but he is faster lifting it over his head. "I take it back you aren't an old man, you're a freaking seven year old. What's your next trick? Pulling my hair?"

"If I was fucking you," he says with a shit eating grin reaching for another piece of licorice. It paints such a pretty picture in his head that he loses a moment to the fantasy of Darcy wrapped around him, dark hair fanning out over his pillow, lips bitten red and her nails clawing his back. He nearly misses Darcy's cheeks flushing with color as she turns back to the microwave as it dings.

"I almost forgot you were a bit of an ass," she says taking the bag of freshly popped popcorn out of the microwave and pouring it into a bowl.

"I thought you liked that about me?"

"Maybe," she mutters placing a flat popcorn bag in the microwave and pressing a series of buttons. "Okay beer or coke? The only acceptable choices for movie night."

"Coke," he says, watching Darcy open the refrigerator and rummage around. It's not that he doesn't drink beer. He does, a lot, even if it does nothing for him. It just it seems wrong with the innocence of watching a movie with popcorn and candy.

Steve's pretty sure there's some irony over that with the way he can't keep his eyes off her ass in her tight fitting yoga pants. He wonders if she has been thinking about him half as much as he has thought about her. It's been a handful of days since they shared the hotel suite. Five days since Darcy wrapped her hand around his cock, since she spread her thighs apart and let him touch her. The microwave dings and he pulls another piece of licorice from the bag, clearing his throat. "Movie time?"

"Hell yeah," Darcy beams handing him two bottles of coke and muttering curses under her breath as she pulls the hot popcorn bag from the microwave. "Popcorn...check...liquorice...check...coke-a-cola in glass bottles...check...grumpy superhero in pajamas...check."

Darcy leads the way to the Tower's enormous home theater, her ponytail swinging counterpoint to the sway of her hips. It's entirely too tempting to reach out and pull her hair, and he is almost grateful for the bottles and bag of candy filling his hands. He's Captain America; he has self-control. Or he did once. Darcy flutters around choosing the best couch in the theater, her tits bouncing when she finally decides on the perfect spot.

"Jarvis, can you put on Sixteen Candles for me please?" she coos and pats the space beside her impatiently.

"Of course, miss Lewis. I hope you enjoy your evening," the AI replies, and Darcy wiggles back in her seat still clutching the bowl of popcorn.

They fight over possession of the popcorn bowl when he sits down next to her, his knee brushing against her leg. Darcy shivers at the touch, as innocent as it is, and eventually she leans against his side as the movie plays. It's nice, nicer then he expected it to be. He couldn't care less about the movie, just the warmth of Darcy curled up beside him, hair smelling of apples as he twirls it around his fingertips, her hand warm on his thigh, fingertips rubbing over and over a small hole in his sweats. It tickles and makes him squirm under her touch.

Steve laughs at all the appropriate places, but his attention is almost entirely focused on Darcy. The hitch of her breath when he burrows his hand under her hair to massage the back of her neck, her fingertips swirling round and round the hole in his sweats, her elbow digging into his ribs when he steals the last piece of licorice, the way her whole being seems to light up at her favorite lines and she mouths the words along with the characters.

She's adorable and sexy as hell. He wants to kiss the grin off her face, press her down into the cushions and make her scream. He shoves his more lurid thoughts away, subtly adjusts himself in his sweats focusing back on the film.

"Did you like it?" she busts out the second the credits begin to roll. Darcy shifts up on her knees facing him, and his gaze lingers a little too long on her cleavage to be friendly.

"It was...cute," he says finally dragging his eyes up to meet hers.

Darcy wrinkles her nose and shoves at his chest. "It was cute? That's the best you can say about my fourth favorite movie of all time?"

"Wasn't really payin' much attention to the movie. C'mere," he says wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss. Sugar and salt. Darcy moans into his mouth, her hands tugging at his hair. Steve deepens the kiss, sliding his hand down to cup the back of her knee, dragging her into his lap. Darcy gasps into his mouth, he plants his hands firmly on her hips and rocks up into her.

"Pretty damn slick move, Steven," she pants as he trails kisses down the arch of her neck. Steve squeezes her ass, and Darcy rocks into him, her hands tightening in his hair. "Been thinking about me?" she asks rolling her hips slowly against his erection.

"All fucking night," he says, sliding his hands up under her purple tank top. "Jarvis, shut down the audio and visual feeds from the home theater."

"Already done, Captain Rogers. Goodnight," the AI responds cordially.

"Thanks," Steve says absently, more focused on running his hands up and down Darcy's sides. "You wanna take this off for me?"

Darcy lifts her arms up so that he can peel the shirt up and toss it to the floor, mumbling “sorry” when he sends her glasses flying. Leaning forward, he kisses the top of each breast, sliding his hands to cup them through the lace of her orange bra. "Orange?" He asks rubbing his thumbs in circles around the hard peaks of her nipples.

"I like orange. Who are you to criticize my fashion choices when you wear tights."

"Fair enough," he shrugs slipping his right hand around her back to fumble with the clasp of her bra. Moving his hands up to her shoulders, he slides the straps of her bra down slowly kissing along her jaw. Darcy shifts and tosses the bra away and presses herself closer to him. Steve’s hands exploring the smooth expanse of her back as he kisses and licks his way down her neck and collar bone.

"Oh," she says when he suckles her right nipple into his mouth. Her hips rock when he grazes her nipple with his teeth. He lavishes attention to her tits, her neck, kisses her until her lips are as red and swollen as his feel, until his dick aches and Darcy's moaning with each sweep of his hands across her pale skin.

"Can I taste you?" he whispers into her ear.

"God yes," Darcy moans, and he turns, laying her back on the couch in one swift move that startles a laugh from Darcy. "Eager much?"

"I've thought about this, about you all damn week," Steve replies curling his hands round the waistband of Darcy's yoga pants and pink polka-a-dot panties tugging them down. Darcy lifts her hips to help him, and then she is bare before him. "Beautiful," he murmurs running his hands slowly up from her slim ankles. Cheeks pinking, Darcy turns her gaze away squirming beneath his touch. She opens her thighs for him as he moves his hands over her thighs. Steve rubs his thumb over her folds, wet and swollen, and he groans. "Fucking gorgeous."

"You talk too damn much," Darcy says rolling her eyes.

"Maybe," he smirks pressing his thumb down on her clit. Darcy's hips jerk up and she bites down on her lip to stifle a moan.

The couch is long but he still has to bend his knees up at an awkward angle as he settles between her thighs pulling Darcy's legs up over his shoulders. Steve curls an arm around her thigh, breathes in her scent and kisses each pale thigh and the triangle of dark curls over her mound.

He looks up at her through his lashes as her eyes flutter closed, her hands gripping the couch cushions as he presses his mouth to her center. Darcy's breath hitches as he spreads her apart with his fingers and strokes her with the flat of his tongue, tasting her.

"Oh god," she cries out as he darts his tongue out to tease every fold, search out all the secret places that make her writhe and sob. He rolls his hips against the couch, easing the ache. Darcy's right hand combs through his hair, nails scraping his scalp as he fucks her with his tongue, teasing her with little flicks of his tongue, barely touching her clit before moving elsewhere.

Darcy's trembling when he latches onto her clit, flicking his tongue, mercilessly, he pushes two blunt fingers into her pussy. Darcy arches into his mouth, sobbing his name as she comes, and he can't think of a time he has ever been this hard.

"Beautiful," he whispers, kissing her thighs, the soft curve of her abdomen. Darcy's legs fall to the side as he kneels up slipping his hand into his sweats to squeeze around his dick, head bowed and eyes shut.

Steve jerks himself once slowly, lip caught between his teeth stifling his moan. The waist band of his sweats is tugged down, and he opens his eyes to look down at Darcy on her knees leaning forward to lick the sticky head of his cock.

"Jesus, Darcy," he hisses sliding his hand down to the base of his dick. Darcy flashes him a grin that makes his belly flip and wraps her lips around the head of his cock. His hips jerk forward as her tongue teases the slit and he threads his free hand through her hair, giving one sharp tug to get her attention. "Ain't gonna last long with your mouth on me," he grits out, and Darcy winks at him and swirls her tongue around his tip. Fuck.

Darcy doesn't tease him, just goes in for the kill, sucking and swirling her tongue, her hands warm on his thighs holding her up. It's a beautiful sight before him: Darcy's pink lips around his dick, dark hair slipping down her back and over her shoulders, small waist, the flare of her hips and rounded ass. Steve groans, balls drawing up, and tightens his grip on the base of his cock.

"Almost," he growls tugging on her hair; Darcy hums as she swallows him down until her mouth brushes his fist. She slides back to suckle the head and he's gone. He growls out her name as he comes, vision greying out around the edges. Steve strokes himself through the last shudders of orgasm, his hand barely touching Darcy's mouth as she sucks him dry.

"Christ," he says as his dick slips from between Darcy's lips and he drops down into the couch cushions.

"Good?" Darcy asks lips curving in a smug grin.

"C'mere," he says tugging her down across his chest, legs tangling together. Darcy kisses him then, soft and achingly sweet, mouth closed and lips curving into a smile. Steve opens his mouth, inviting her tongue to tangle with his, tasting himself on her tongue. They spend long minutes lazily kissing, his hands sliding up and down her back. He could easily fall asleep like this.

"Oh my god," Darcy says, eyes dancing with mischief when she lifts her head up.

"Don't wanna know."

"I just blew Captain America in Iron Man's home theater," she laughs and he tickles his hands along her ribs.

"Pretty sure you know my name is Steve. You were screamin' it a few minutes ago."

"Ass," Darcy pouts and he slides his hands down to cup her ass pulling her up against him. "I have got to go in a minute or I'll miss my train."

"Stay with me," he says before his mind can come up with all the reasons that might be a terrible plan.

"I can't. If I stay we would end up having sex," she says pushing up with her hands on his chest to straddle him. Steve's gaze drops from her eyes to her phenomenal tits, his dick going from half hard to fully interested as she swivels her hips in a slow circle. "And as much fun as this is with you...I'm not having sex with you."

"And what we just did wasn't sex?" he asks settling his hands on her hips to keep her still. With effort he drags his gaze back up to her eyes.

"You being inside me would be sex."

"My fingers and tongue don't count?" he asks and Darcy shivers, her tits swaying and her cheeks turning pink.

"No," Darcy says a furrow between her brows, color staining her cheeks. "I just..." She shrugs and really she needs to stop doing that if he is ever going to stand a chance of concentrating. "It means more than playing around getting off. Trust. Fuck, I don't know," she says with a wince, eyes blinking rapidly for a moment.

"And you trusted me enough to let me go down on you?"

"That was fun, more than fun. God, whatever, this is getting way too deep. Can we just go back to being sarcastic?"

"You know I wouldn't pressure you. Wouldn't ask anythin' of you that you aren't willing to give."

"You're sweet," Darcy says wrapping her hands over his wrists pulling his hands up to her tits, sliding against his cock.

"And you cheat," Steve says, giving into the slick slide of her pussy on his dick; he isn't going to argue. At least not now.

"I need to catch my train," she says breath hitching as he rolls her nipples between thumbs and forefingers.

"I'll call you a cab," he says rolling his hips up into her. "We can put it on Stark's tab."

"You're kind of a dick, Steve."

"You like that about me."

"Yeah, I do. Your sarcasm is my--"

"Kryptonite, I remember. That'd make me your Lex Luthor. I don't know how I'd look bald," Steve says dryly gliding his hands down to guide Darcy's hips as she bursts into laughter, head tilted back showing the long column of her throat. Beautiful.

Whatever Darcy's definition of sex is its not the same as his, not from the moment they held hands, fingers laced, damp palms pressed together more intimate than a kiss. Later they will talk about defining words. For now he pushes his thoughts away focusing on the woman gloriously naked in his arms. Loses himself in the roll of her hips, the pale skin under his hands, the breathy moans spilling from her lips.

Chapter Text

The Tower is on lockdown after an attack of Doombots that left everyone in a sorry state. They won, but Steve’s got cracked ribs, a broken right arm, and cuts and bruises all over. The scrapes and bruises will be gone in a day; the ribs and arm will take much longer.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers? Would you like something else for the pain?” asks the nurse in her grey uniform, the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on the shoulder. For a moment he thinks of his mother, what she would think of him now biting his tongue to keep from snarling at the doctor wrapping his arm in some synthetic material that smells like melted plastic and burnt wires.

“I’m fine, ma’am,” he manages to grit out, shifting to test the bandages wrapped around his chest. “You done?” Steve asks Dr. Killjoy, clenching his jaw.

“Yes, yes. Here take these pills with you. They won’t last lo—,”

“No,” Steve snaps with a shake of his head. He hops off the medical table, struggles with dragging a grey hooded sweatshirt over his busted arm. He leaves it unzipped; it’s too much hassle with his knuckles swollen and the cast hindering his movements. Grabbing his phone off the table, he stalks out of medical, and for once he is glad that he is in Stark’s gilded tower.

Swiping his thumb over the lock screen, he types out a message to Darcy, thumb hovering over the send button. Fuck it. Steve sends the message and stuffs the phone into the pocket of his sweats.

Steve: Can I see you?

He reaches the bank of elevators the phone buzzes in his pocket.

Darcy: OMG yes. I’m so fucking bored.

He chuckles and it makes his ribs twinge as he presses the up button. The one upside of the tower lockdown is Darcy being trapped with the rest of them, in a suite the floor below his.

Steve: On my way.

In the hall outside Darcy’s door he wonders briefly about JARVIS or Tony watching his movements, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck about any of it. He knocks with his good hand and hears shuffling on the other side of the door before Darcy opens it, dressed in tiny pink shorts and a sinfully tight blue camisole with a cat on the front.

“Oh, my god! You look like shit, Steve. How the hell are you even walking?” Darcy says, eyes wide.

“I put one foot in front of the other and walk. S’not so hard,” Steve grunts, leaning against Darcy’s door. She reaches out to him, sweeping open the edges of his sweatshirt, hands skimming over the white tape wrapped around his chest.

“And you’re here for a booty call when your ribs are taped and your arm’s in a cast?”

“My arm may be busted but ain’t nothin’ wrong with my tongue,” Steve bites back. Darcy’s eyes widen, pink flooding her cheeks.

“Jesus,” Darcy breathes out. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Stop with the fuckin’ mother hen routine, Darce,” Steve snaps.

“You forget to take your happy pills this morning, Rogers?”

“The horse pills they give me don’t work. Not enough anyway,” Steve mutters bitterly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.” Most of the shit they try and give him doesn’t do a damn thing. The latest ones ease the pain but leave a sour taste in his mouth and make the world bleary for a little while. It’s that same numbness he felt as the water washed over him, leaving ice in his veins. He doesn’t want to think about that though. “You gonna let me in or not?”

“Oh,” Darcy says stepping back into the room behind her. He follows her, kicking the door shut behind him. It’s a nice enough apartment, blues and greens he might have appreciated if his ribs and arm didn’t ache like a son of a bitch with every breath. “Do you want a drink?”

“I want you,” he says with a smirk. He wants more than that, more than just her body, but for now he’ll take comfort in sex. Or not sex as Darcy defines it. Mostly, and he hates to admit it to himself, but he can’t stand the emptiness of his apartment. The hollowness that echoes inside his chest. He runs his good hand down the length of Darcy’s bare arm and lets his hand fall back to his side. Darcy shivers, catches her lip between her teeth, and his grin widens, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nice one, double bonus points. Sofa or bed?”

“Bed. I’d never fit on the sofa,” he says, eyes darting to the blue sofa, with its overabundance of frothy looking pillows, and fragile wooden legs.

“Good point. Come on then.” Darcy turns to lead him into the bedroom. Steve catches her hand and tugs her back gently. He bends down and brings their lips together, slips his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers. Letting her hand go, he runs his palm over her back under her shirt; Darcy arches into his touch, and wraps her arms around him.

Steve traces patterns on her warm skin and she moans into his mouth, her hands slipping down under the elastic of his waistband to squeeze the cheeks of his ass. Heat licks down his spine, settles low in his belly, blood flows south to fill his cock. He pulls Darcy closer, crushing her breasts against the bandages on his chest. He hisses like a fucking kettle and Darcy looks up at him sharply.

“Easy there, tiger,” she says, pulling back from his embrace.

“M’fine,” he mutters.

“You’re a fucking liar,” Darcy says heatedly. She tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowed, pink lips pursed.

“You callin’ Captain America a liar?”

“No, just you, old man,” she snaps back and he grins. Darcy may like his sarcasm but he loves her sharp tongue just as much. Steve steps into the space she’s made between them and kisses her temple.

“Show me the bedroom, I’m gonna lie down and you are gonna sit on my face. When I’m done making you scream, I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth,” he whispers into her hair.

“Fuck, Steve. Just—fuck,” Darcy splutters, eyes dark and wide, blush bright across her cheeks.

“Bedroom?” he says, quirking his left brow.

“Oh...yeah,” she mutters and turns and leads the way down the wide hall. Steve stands still a moment watching the swing of her hips before setting off after her. The bedroom doesn’t have the same hollow feel as the living room. The bedspread is crumpled beneath a scattering of items he has become far too familiar with since his time in the ice. Two laptops sit side by side, one with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo embossed on the top, the other covered in brightly colored stickers, an iPod, Starkphone, and a collection of notebooks and pens scattered across the bed.

“Sorry,” Darcy mutters, folding down the laptops and moving them to the bedside table. She kneels on the bed, tangling her fingers in the cable to her iPod. Steve runs his hand over the curve of her ass in those sinfully tiny shorts. Darcy flashes him a grin over her shoulder, tosses her iPod and phone on top of everything else, and turns around to face him. “You sure you’re up for play time, Captain?”

“You keep callin' me Captain and I’ll start giving orders,” he replies, palming the curve of her waist. Darcy arches her brows high over the rim over her glasses.

“Maybe I’d let you,” Darcy grins at him, a flash of sharp teeth that twists his guts, sends his blood running south. “When you aren’t broken.” She places her hand on his chest above the white bandages.

“M’not broken.”

“You sure about that, Steven?” Darcy asks, poking at his ribs though the bandages. Steve hisses, catching her hand in his.

“Okay, I’m a little broken,” he amends, attempting to pull his sweatshirt off. Darcy rolls her eyes at him and tugs the jacket off his good arm, peeling it more carefully down over the cast. She frowns at the bruises and scrapes on his right side not hidden by cloth bandages.

“Jesus, Steve,” Darcy gasps, her hand hovering above a bruise near his hip. It blue-black and disappears under the band of his S.H.I.E.L.D. sweats.

“S’fine. Be gone by tomorrow. Mostly,” he mutters. At least the cuts will have healed over and all but the deepest of bruises. Bones'll take a little longer. Longer than he wants to think about when Darcy’s within reach, warm and sweet. He wants so much, everything she is willing to give and more. He can wait though. He’s always been good at waiting. “C’mere.”

Darcy shakes her head, curls her fingers into the fabric of his sweats, and drags them down his hips. Pride surges through him at the happy little sound she makes when his cock springs free. Darcy kneels down before him, palms warm on his thighs, and fuck, that’s a beautiful sight. She kisses the flushed head of his cock, flicks her tongue out to taste him. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, and slides his hand in to the heavy weight of her hair. Darcy wraps her lips around the head of his dick and suckles gently, tongue flicking over the slit. He wants that, wants her to swallow him down, but he wants to make her scream more.

“Fuckin’ hell, Darce,” he groans tugging on her hair. “Stop a minute.” She looks up at him in surprise and lets his dick slip from her mouth, slick with spit and flushed red. “Wanna make you come first.”

“You’re gonna complain about me being on my knees for you?” Darcy arches a brow above her glasses. Her lips quirk up and she leans back pulling off her shirt in one smooth movement.

"Jesus Christ, Darce," Steve says. Clothed Darcy is beautiful, with that naughty little smirk, blue eyes sparking with challenge. Naked she is gorgeous, and too tempting by half. His heart and his libido never really stood a chance.

"I can go do something else. I have files to read, emails to re—”

"No! Goddamn it, Darcy. You don't make this easy."

"It's more fun when it's hard," Darcy says, skimming her hands up his thighs to his hips careful of the bruising on his right side. She taps her thumbs on his hipbones, slides her hands in to frame his dick, caressing his sac with her thumbs.

“That was terrible,” he says, shaking his head. Darcy crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him. Steve barks out a laugh that dies in his throat with Darcy’s mouth on the underside of his cock, hot and wet and so fucking good. He pulls the glasses carefully from her face, tossing them on the bed.

“You could have said,” Darcy says primly, curling her hand around the base of his cock.

“Didn’t want to distract you.”

“So thoughtful,” she says, hot breath ticking over the crown of his cock.

“Yeah, thoughtful that's me,” Steve says, his tone is mocking but Darcy shrugs the comment off. She licks her reddened lips and Steve swallows hard, widening his stance as much as possible with his sweats around his ankles. He isn’t going to stop her, it just alters the plans he had from the moment he swiped his thumb across his phone screen. She licks a stripe up his dick, swallows him down until all he can think of is the heat of her mouth around him, the tip of her tongue teasing the slit in his cock. She releases his dick with a soft pop and straightens up, leaning closer to him and traps his dick between her tits. “Oh fuck,” he whines.

He doesn’t care how desperate he sounds as he covers her hand on her breast with his good hand, mentally cursing his broken arm. Eyes wide, he watches as he fucks her tits. Each ragged breath he takes is loud in his own ears. He can feel his release building in his balls, coiling in the pit of his belly.

“Darce,” he moans. Shifting back she lets her breasts go to curl her hand around his shaft and wraps her lips around the crown of his dick. His thighs tremble, and he flexes the fingers of his swollen hand, the pain is sharp counterpoint to Darcy hot mouth on him. She fondles his balls as she licks and sucks, and he is gone, hand twitching on Darcy’s shoulder as he comes down her throat. Darcy strokes him through it, tongue sweeping over the slit until he pulls away from the heat of her mouth. “Enough,” he rasps out, and Darcy sits back on her heels, pink tongue tracing over her red lips.

He sways to the side, leaning heavily on Darcy’s shoulder. “Oh my god, Steve,” Darcy cries out, grabbing his arm. “Sit down.” She orders. “Jesus fuck. You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe it was just that good,” Steve says. He sits down on the edge of the bed, wincing when his ribs creak together. "I’m fine, Darce.”

“Liar,” Darcy huffs, and pushes him back on the bed. He settles down into the pillows, watching Darcy pull his shoes and sweats off, muttering a litany of curses under her breath as she fusses.

“C'mere."

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Darcy says, picking up his sweatshirt from the floor.

“No,” he says firmly, hooking his fingers in the elastic of her shorts before she can move away. “M’not done with you.”

"Pretty sure you are done."

"Strip out of these.”

"You're gonna give me orders now, Captain?" Darcy says, cocking a brow at him.

“Do I need to?” Steve says, brows rising towards his hairline. He releases the band of her shorts and slips his hand between her thighs, pushing aside the fabric, the pads of his fingers slip against Darcy’s folds. Hot, slick, and swollen beneath the pads of his fingers. “So wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

“S-steve, maybe...oh,” Darcy whimpers, arching into his touch.

“Take those ridiculous shorts off and c’mere,” he says, withdrawing his hand, trailing his fingers down her thigh. Nibbling her lip, Darcy shucks her shorts and climbs on the bed beside him. “I want you up here.”

“Seriously?”

“Wouldn’ta said it if I weren’t,” he smirks, and Darcy scowls at him. She pokes one of the small bruises on his arm, and Steve pulls her down to him, kisses her hard. He licks into her mouth and tastes himself on her tongue.

“I can just get myself off,” she murmurs against his lips. It’s a beautiful thought, and maybe later he'll watch her do that but right now he has other plans for her.

“Gonna make you scream,” he whispers into her ear, and Darcy’s breath hitches. “Climb up.” Darcy looks at him doubtfully, her eyes darting down to his arm and chest as she sits up. She knee walks to the top of the bed, sending an avalanche of small pillows to the ground. “You ready?” he asks as she settles above him, lip caught between her teeth, color high on her cheek bones.

“Yes,” she says, threading the fingers of her right hand through his short hair and curling her left hand around the headboard.

“Good,” he murmurs. Turning his head to kiss her thigh, he opens his mouth to scrape his teeth along pale flesh. Darcy whines, and Steve smiles against her skin, wraps his good arm around her thigh, and pulls her as close as he can with one arm.

Steve parts her folds with his tongue, her scent filling his lungs, her taste flooding his mouth. He spells out words with his tongue. Secrets he can’t speak. Steve loses himself in the taste of her, heat and salt, and earth. For a little while he forgets about the pain in his arm, his ribs, as he draws out whimpers and moans and hitching sobs. He licks and bites, Darcy rocking against his face, thighs quaking, tits jiggling with the sway of her body.

Curses spill from her lips, and he smiles against her. Her eyes are closed, lashes a dark fan on her flushed cheeks, red bitten bottom lip caught between her teeth as she grinds against his face. She sobs his name when she comes, flooding his mouth with her taste, fingers tugging at his hair. Steve works her through it, circling his tongue round and around her clit, dragging out her pleasure as long as he can.

“No more. Can’t,” Darcy whimpers, pulling away from his mouth, leaning heavily on the head board. Part of him wants to make her come again and again, but mostly he is just too fucking tired for that. This time anyway, next time though, assuming she wants to see him again. He isn't going to think about how much he wants there to be a next time.

He loosens his arm from her thigh and rubs his good arm across his mouth. “Fuck, Steve that was... god... words,” Darcy mumbles, flopping down on his good side in a graceless heap of warm curves and wild curls. He smiles smugly, tugs a lock of her hair. “So good.” She nuzzles against his chest, swirling her fingers on his chest hair and kisses the bruise along his collarbone.

Curling his arm around her, he kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes. Just for a moment. Steve revels in the feel of her, warm against his side, the lingering taste of her on his lips and tongue. “Nice,” he murmurs sleepily into her hair. It’s more than nice, he thinks, but the words die before they ever reach his tongue. Darcy hums, wiggles against his side, and pulls a corner of the bedspread over them. He dozes off for a few minutes and startles awake. “I should go,” Steve says, pushing up from the bed. It’s the last thing he wants to do but he isn’t about to overstep the lines she’s drawn in the sand.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re staying. Go back to sleep,” Darcy orders, pushing gently on his shoulder.

“Alright,” he sighs, too exhausted to argue the point. Darcy fusses over him, rearranging the blankets and pillows around them, snuggling tight to his side, warm and naked. His cock twitches with interest when she moves her thigh across his hips though he is far too tired and aching to do anything about that now.

“Night,” Darcy says softly. She kisses his cheek and runs her hand through his hair. He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit to himself how good it feels to be in her arms. The last thing to float through his mind as he sinks into a dreamless sleep is how much he wishes it could be like this every night.

Chapter Text

“Steve!” Darcy says when she turns the corner and spots him in the hall. The smile that breaks out across her face makes his belly twist and something loosen in his chest. Unmindful of anything she barrels into him, wrapping around him like seaweed. Sometimes he wonders if he hasn’t already drowned.

“Hey, Darce, miss me?” he says, wrapping his arms tight around her. He buries his nose in her hair, it smells like honey today and he takes a deeper breath, rubs strands of it through his fingertips.

“Nope just the shield,” she says, tapping the shield strapped to his back. Steve huffs out a laugh and twists a lock of her dark hair around his fingers, gives it a tug and watches her eyes darken as she tilts her head back. “Oh, God, I should probably go…don’t want to you to, you know...” Darcy takes a half step back eyes darting down the empty hallway.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Steve says, pulling her back into his chest and bending to kiss her pink lips. Darcy gasps and he presses forward, sliding his tongue between her lips to curl against her tongue. “You taste like candy.”

“Stop that, Captain. I am not flustered. I don't get flustered," Darcy says, narrowing her eyes at him and attempting to wiggle out of his arms. "Let go, someone might see.”

“I don’t care who sees. I want to kiss you all the time,” he says. He releases her from his arms though, and it feels a bit like a punch in the gut.

Darcy frowns and tucks her hair behind her ears, drops her gaze down to a spot between his boots. "It's not that...it's just...," Darcy says hands fluttering as she grasps for words.

" 'Cause I embarrass you."

"Clearly that's it," Darcy says, rolling her eyes, but the smile is back on her lips. "Oh, I've got tickets!"

"Tickets?"

"Movie tickets. Pretty sure they had moving pictures back in your day.”

“Really, Darce?” he quirks a brow.

“Okay, okay, the tickets are for a special showing of Pretty in Pink at the retro theater near my apartment. You wanna go with? I'll smuggle you in some licorice."

"You asking me out on a date?" he asks with no small bit of amusement.

"It's not a date,” Darcy says firmly. He half expects her to stomp her foot on the ground. “It's just two friends going out to see a movie. The best movie. My second favourite John Hughes movie," Darcy keeps her eyes focused on one of his shoulder straps. There is the faintest blush staining her cheeks and for just a moment he is tempted to tease her a little more, see if he can get her get that blush to burn a little hotter.

“What time?”

“Tonight at nine.”

“Dinner?”

“No, I’m having dinner with Jane, she can’t live on science, sugar, and sex alone,” Darcy says rocking on her heels.

“I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty for our not-a-date,” he says. His lips twist in a crooked grin that earns him a playful shove in the chest. He takes a half step back, pin-wheeling his arms a little for emphasis. Darcy tilts back her head and laughs, exposing the long column of her neck, and he loses himself in thoughts of trailing sucking kisses down her skin, marking up that pale flesh.

“God, you’re such a jackass. I really don’t need you to pick me up. I can meet you there. It’s literally a few blocks from my apartment building.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty,” Steve says firmly.

There is a mutinous glitter in Darcy’s eyes before she shrugs, “Whatever floats your boat, Captain.”

It’s a date. Whether or not she wants to call it that, it’s what he intends to make of it.

......

Darcy’s apartment building is old, a relic from before his time, worn red bricks eaten away by time. He forgoes the metal cage masquerading as an elevator and jogs up the twisting stairs to the fourth floor. Darcy’s apartment, number 4C, has a ‘slide to unlock’ doormat that he nudges with the toe of his boot before rapping on the door with his knuckles. There’s a muffled ‘oh crap’ through the door followed by footsteps crossing the room and another muffled curse as Darcy fiddles with the locks on the door.

“Darce.”

“Hey, Steve,” Darcy says with a grin as she opens the door and steps back into the room.

She’s dressed in a grey sweater with a deep v-neck, darker grey leggings and blue socks with puffy white clouds and little red kites flying around the tops.

“Nice socks, doll,” he says, dragging his eyes back up to her face.

Darcy rolls her eyes, her pink tongue flicking out wet her top lip. “Let me grab my boots and we can go.” Steve has other plans though, snaking out his hand to curl around Darcy’s wrist and tugging her into his chest for a kiss. Burying his hand in her hair, he swipes his tongue over the seam of her lips. Darcy sighs, arms wrapping around his neck, and he sinks into the taste of her. Peppermint and coffee. She whimpers when he pulls back, eyes dark and cloudy, blush curling across her cheekbones. He reminds himself that he can’t just toss her over his shoulder, carry her to bed and bury his face between her legs. They are going out to a movie, on a date that’s not-a-date.

“Your boots? Unless you want me to carry you to the movie,” he says, lips twitching.

“Can you do that?”

“Carried heavier weight, not sure about prettier though,” he says, taking his eyes off Darcy to scan the apartment behind her. It’s the first time he’s been invited into her space and he is beyond curious to see what Darcy calls home.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed,” Darcy says.

“Both,” he says dryly. The apartment is tiny, reminds him far too much of the places he and Bucky used to spend time in, with the scarred wooden flooring and mismatched furniture. It’s full of color and texture; mismatched coffee cups filled with pens, flowers and driftwood twigs. Untidy piles of books and magazines fill the coffee table beside Darcy’s sticker covered laptop and the tangled wires of a battered silver iPod. The couch is low to the floor, burnt orange in color with a purple and black crocheted afghan thrown haphazardly over the back.

“I’m ready,” Darcy says, pulling her satchel over her head and settling the strap between her breasts, over her navy blue coat. There’s a green knit cap covering her hair, a matching scarf around her neck and sturdy boots on her feet. The boots are russet colored leather, lacing high with leather flaps protecting the tops of the laces, and buckles at the sides.

"Getting an eyeful, Captain?"

"Hmm? No. The boots are like ones I usedta have a long time ago." A lifetime ago. “Mine didn’t have zips though and were a bastard to unlace. Kept snapping ‘em.”

"Oh," Darcy says, lifting up her right foot, twisting it from side to side. "Awesome."

"The gams are great too," he says lowly. Darcy wobbles on her foot, losing her balance and Steve catches her before she falls, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off her feet. "Not so great on the stability though."

“Har har,” she says as he sets her back down on her feet. “Let’s go.”

.......

The movie theater is small, like the ones he remembers sneaking into when he and Buckys were kids; ragged plush velvet seats and sticky floors. It stirs up old ghosts, and there is that hollow ache in his chest when he thinks of the very last time he and Bucky watched a movie together.

“You okay, Steve?” Darcy asks, slipping her hand into his.

Steve swallows down the lump in his throat and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, just bein’ here shook free a few old ghosts.”

“Bad memories?” Darcy asks, squeezing his hand tight as she leads him to a pair of seats near the back of the small empty cinema.

Steve shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh, “No, not bad.” The words ring with more truth than the pretty lies he’s told the SHIELD head shrinks. Stripping off his coat and laying it over the back of the seat, he remembers the cold. “When we were kids, Bucky and me, we’d sneak into the movies. Buck’d fall asleep sometimes and I’d poke my bony elbows into his sides to stop him snoring before we’d get caught.”

“You are seriously challenging my junior high school history lessons. Who’d have thought Cap was a rebel and a sneak,” Darcy says, shifting beside him to dig her elbow into his side.

“Didn’t say I was vicious about it,” he says and Darcy sticks her tongue out at him. It’s stupid and childish but he laughs anyway. Snagging the bucket of popcorn from Darcy’s hands, he tosses a handful into his mouth lets his thoughts flow in lines and curves as a few people trickle in. “The last time I saw a movie with Buck and the boys it was in the canteen. They, uh, played one of the Cap PSAs,” Steve says as he rubs his knuckles along his jaw. “Never shut up about it for weeks after.”

“Oh my god, are you blushing?” Darcy asks, twisting in her seat to poke her finger at his cheek and tugging the popcorn out of his hand.

“No,” Steve says flatly, pulling the popcorn back. He isn’t blushing, it’s just warm in the theater.

“You are,” she crows, and Steve rolls his eyes, sinking deeper into his seat. The lights begin to dim and the curtains draw back from the screen. Darcy claps her hands together and practically vibrates in her seat. “Hush now, it’s movie time.”

“Wasn’t sayin’ anything.”

“You were thinking it,” Darcy says, shoving the popcorn back into his hands and rifling through her bag. Plastic crinkles and a moment later she waves a handful of strawberry licorice in his face.

“Hush up and watch your movie,” Steve grumbles. He takes the proffered licorice though. Watching Darcy watch the movie is more fascinating than the movie itself; she mouths along with the words and tilts her head back to laugh, occasionally she turns her head to bury her face in his shoulder when she can’t stand to watch a character be embarrassed.

Halfway through the movie, after the popcorn and licorice are gone, Darcy places her hand on his jeans. Nails scratching over the inside seam. Back and forth her nails scrape across the cotton. He shifts and widens his knees a little, flicks his gaze from the screen to Darcy’s face as she trails her fingers higher, grazing them over the bulge of his dick, half hard in his jeans. She tilts her head, flicks her gaze down to his lap and squeezes him through the denim. A slow smile spreads across her full lips, and it sends the rest of his blood south to fill his cock. “Darcy,” he growls low.

“Shhh,” Darcy hisses, pressing her finger to those sinful lips. She maps out his dick through his jeans, and her hand creeps up to tug at his belt. He covers her hand with his, scanning the dimly lit theater; there are no threats and only a few people sitting down near the front row. “Steve,” she whispers. He lets his hand fall away to grip the arm rest and Darcy flashes him a triumphant smile.

Nimble fingers make quick work of his belt and the button of his jeans. The zipper sounds far too loud to his ears; he scans the room again, eyes darting to the doors with their glowing green ‘exit’ signs and the people sitting rows away from them. He’s done a lot of things before, stupid and reckless, but this isn’t one of them; for a moment he remembers Bucky telling him about a date with Mary Margaret Boyle and having to carry his coat in front of him on the walk home. Bucky had a habit of telling Steve a lot of things he never wanted to know.

He frowns at the same time Darcy’s nails scratch over his abdomen and she worms her hand under the elastic of his boxers. The tips of her fingers graze his dick and his hands clutch convulsively on the armrest and the seat back. He’s an idiot and this is such a bad fucking idea. The room is stifling hot, and when he breathes in, the orange and vanilla scent of Darcy’s perfume fills his lungs. She squeezes him, runs her thumb over the wet head of his cock and Steve’s hips jerk up off the seat as a low groan spills from his lips.

“Hush,” Darcy giggles, and Steve releases his hand from the armrest to rub over his face and cover his mouth. The movie plays on, but he can’t focus on anything but the drag of her hand over his dick, the movement hindered by the cotton of his boxers.

“Darcy,” Steve whispers raggedly, covering Darcy’s hand with his through the thin cotton of his boxers. Ignoring his pleas, Darcy pushes his hand away pulls his underwear down, exposing his naked cock.

Her eyes flick to the screen and back down to his lap as she strokes him hard, her bottom lip caught between her white teeth. Steve thinks how easy it would be to slip his own hand under the fall of her tunic, beneath her leggings to bury his fingers into the slick heat of her pussy. His belly trembles with effort, hips bucking helplessly, eyes shut tight as he breathes out through his nose. Numbers spinning through his head as he desperately tries to claw back from the precipice. “You gotta stop,” he growls, the words are louder than he means and earn him a ‘shaddup’ from down in front. He’s an idiot.

“Quiet,” she says, laughter in her voice. She squeezes the head of his cock and then her mouth is around him, hot and wet and so damn good. His mind goes blank after that, heat coiling tight in his balls and belly.

“Aw, hell,” he mutters, biting down on his hand and threading his other hand through her long hair. He tugs on her hair and Darcy moans around the head of his cock, the vibration ringing through him. He’s gone, coming hard in hot bursts in her mouth as Darcy strokes him through it, tongue sweeping over and over. Steve tastes copper on his tongue, blood from sinking his teeth into his palm. Darcy suckles him hard one last time, and Steve hisses, tugging on her hair; she releases him, sitting back in her seat with a satisfied smirk stretching her swollen lips, shiny with spit in the reflective light of the screen. “You tryin’ to get us kicked out?” he rumbles softly as he tucks himself away. The buckle of his belt jingles loudly as he buckles it back together. Behind them and to the right the door into the theater opens, hinge squeaking in protest. Steve tenses, a spike of adrenaline coursing through his system as an usher steps through with an orange flashlight, waving it around as he marches down the aisle. Steve covers his face with one hand as the dull light passes them by. Heat curls up his neck and across his cheeks and he mutters curses under his breath.

“Oh god,” Darcy gasps beside him, slumping against his side as she laughs hysterically.

“Not funny, Darce,” he grumbles, glancing sideways.

Darcy rubs her hands over her flushed cheeks. “That was hysterical...and so, so hot,” she whispers back.

“Christ, Darcy--”

“Shut up and watch the end of the movie,” she interjects with a finger pressed to her lips.

He rolls his eyes and focuses on the screen, though his mind whirls and he has lost a chunk of the movie’s plot. There is a scene at a dance with the lead ‘Andie’ dressed in pink rags, and Darcy elbows him to pay attention when his gaze wanders back to her again and again. The film is sweet enough in the end, though he will have to ask JARVIS to load into onto his tablet to watch when he isn’t distracted by Darcy’s hands and mouth on him.

The credits roll and he helps Darcy with her coat, pulling it up over her shoulders and leaning in to kiss beside her ear. Darcy’s breath hitches and Steve slides his hand up into her hair, tangling his fingers into the dark mass; he can’t help himself. He tugs her hair gently and fits his lips to hers. The kiss is messy and hot, he can taste red licorice and himself on her tongue; arousal burns down his spine. Darcy’s hands fist into his jacket, a low moan escaping her mouth when he pulls back to whisper in her ear. “Later,” he promises.

They exit out through the lobby, Steve catching Darcy’s hand as they walk. He shortens the length of his stride to match her shorter legs, and scans the shadows of every alleyway they pass. “Do you always do that?” Darcy asks, waving her free hand from him to the alley they are passing.

“Occupational hazard,” he says with a shrug.

“And? I feel there was an ‘and’ there,” she says, slipping her hand free of his, stepping in front of him and placing her hands on his chest to halt his steps.

“Nothin’ good.”

“Ohhh, cryptic and mysterious are we,” Darcy says, wiggling her fingers at him.

“Just looking to see what memories they hold.”

“Having your wicked way with cigarette girls in alleyways were we?”

“Hardly that, more me getting my ass handed to me for my smart mouth,” Steve says ruefully.

“I’d say I’m surprised but you do have a smart mouth,” Darcy grins up at him.

“M’not the only one,” he says dryly, brow quirking up.

“Touché, Captain,” Darcy says, spinning around on her heel, coat flaring out with more grace than he can recall seeing her exhibit before. He watches her for a moment before taking steps to catch up. Across the street, a few doors down, a little shop is lit by a cheerful neon sign, a slice of pie with a cherry on top.

“Come on,” Steve says, taking Darcy’s hand and leading her across the street. “I’m buying.”

They find a corner booth, and order coffee and a coconut cream pie. “Really? A whole pie, Steve?” Darcy asks, fingers busy tearing a napkin to shreds.

“M’hungry,” Steve shrugs as he pours a dollop of cream into his coffee, watching as it bubbles up in the cup like storm clouds.

The pie arrives with two cherries on top of a mountain of whipped cream covered in flakes of toasted coconut. Darcy coos and swipes one of the cherries, droplets of dark pink juice stain the cream, and Steve twirls his fork between his fingers before digging in.

He thinks about the past as they sit with the pie between them, a smear of whipped cream on Darcy’s top lip. The past and the ‘what might have been’ that his life seems to have been stuck in for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when he wasn’t living on adrenaline and promise. He shoves a forkful of pie into his mouth, lets it sit on his tongue, sweet to balance the bitter twist of his thoughts.

Darcy’s leg brushes against his, drawing his focus away from his thoughts and turning them back to her. She crosses her eyes when he looks up at her, waving her fork at the pie between them.

He tries to pinpoint the moment when he let himself want her, when he let himself want strings and softer things he turns his mind away from. It’s too soon for those thoughts to rattle round his head, but it is time to push things along.

“Hold still,” he says, reaching across the small table to cradle Darcy’s jaw, the pad of his thumb dragging across her lip gather the bit of cream. He pulls his hand back, licks the cream from his thumb and wipes his fingers on a scratchy paper napkin. “You know this is a date.”

Darcy opens her mouth to speak and closes it again just as rapidly, eyes wide, and hands nervously toying with her fork. “It’s--,”

“A date. We’ve gone to a movie, we are sharing a meal, or at least pie. I want you. I want us. I want it to be a date because I want to keep seeing you. I want to wake up to you wrapped around me like a vine. I want to sit in late night diners eating good pie and drinking bad coffee. I want whatever you are willing to give me and I will do whatever it takes to convince you of my sincerity.”

She’s quiet for the longest time and his stomach sinks, the coffee tastes like ash on his tongue. He’s miscalculated badly. Darcy’s eyes drop to scan the table top, the three quarters gone pie, red napkin dispenser and the coffee cups on the table. Steve's fingers tap a nervous pattern on the table.

"You're right," she says finally, meeting his eyes again.

Steve lets out a breath in a low whistle from his lungs. "I am? Should I get that in writing," he says, quirking a brow.

"Still a jackass, but you're right. It’s a date. I can’t stop thinking about you...and you should probably take me home to see patriotic stars and sing ‘God Bless Captain America’ when you screw me into the mattress,” Darcy says, lips curling up in a devilish smirk.

There is a shadow of nervousness in her eyes. He feels that too, the fear of how far they can fall.

He’s never been afraid to jump.