Saturday Night Fever
January 28, 2017
Steve had many reasons to be thankful that Dr. Erksine had seen something in him worthy of the serum. Because of it, he had been able to do his part in the war. Even shilling bonds, humiliating as it had been, had raised money that was desperately needed to buy boots and tanks and bullets. Without the serum, he wouldn’t have been in Azzano and would never have been able to get Bucky out of that hellhole. He would not have survived those years in the ice to help defeat the Chitauri or Ultron or fucking HYDRA again. He wouldn’t have survived the battle with the Winter Soldier and found his friend. Hell, he wouldn’t have survived at all given his asthma. His heart. His lungs. His curved spine. The – well, pretty much his body had been a jenga tower of infirmaries just waiting for the right move and everything would have come down.
He and Bucky had talked about it, and they both agreed that the serum was a mixed bag at best and a curse at worst. They had lived. That in and of itself was not always the miracle some might think. Especially for Bucky – but Steve too had his moments, especially early on, where he considered that it might have been better to die in the ice. There was the ineffectiveness of painkillers, and worse sometimes, the inability to get drunk. The belief so many had that because he healed quickly he didn’t feel pain. His eyesight and hearing were better, which meant that he couldn’t not overhear conversations around him. Even when they were about him. The boosted metabolism requiring him to eat a minimum eight-five hundred calories a day when he wasn’t working out (there was nothing to make you feel depressed like drinking protein from the blender standing over the sink), and the driving itch under his skin to be moving and burning energy all the damn time. The unspoken and barely acknowledged fear that his aging, like Natasha’s, might slow until everyone he knew would pass him by.
On an average day, Steve felt like he had paid his dues – Buck more than – and they deserved to seize every moment of the second chance at life they had been given. On an off day, when it was all tallied up, the good barely edged out the bad – and that included the value of greater good over their own quality of life.
With Darcy kneeling over his lap, her breasts shifting under soft gray cotton and her lips red and wet-looking as if she had been eating strawberries, he decided he’d take the serum a second time if that was the cost of admission into this life. She made it all more worthwhile. Not just because of the sex – and God – he really hoped there was going to be sex soon, but because of her smile and her laugh. Because of the way she eviscerated the career of General Ross and defended Bucky’s honor and made Tony listen. Because she ran into burning buildings and was a vicious bear before her coffee and talked his ear off.
“Take off your pants.”
Steve blinked, not sure if his ears were working or if he had been knocked unconscious and was dreaming one of his favorite fantasies. At least half of them started with Darcy telling him what to do. She leaned up against the edge of his couch, between his knees, and pressed her mouth to his. Steve sighed into it. Her mouth was so soft. Warm and a little waxy from her lipstick. Her tongue swept along his upper lip and he opened for her, let her have her way for a few moments while his brain tried to catch up. One minute he had been trying to parse out why Darcy would ‘need to talk’ in her serious voice and the next her breasts were pressed lightly against him and he was wondering how much she liked her t-shirt and if she’d care when he ripped it open so they could be skin to skin.
She tasted faintly of mint toothpaste and overwhelmingly of dark, hot Darcy. The slide of her tongue against his was teasing – barely there and not nearly enough before she had pulled away to press kisses along his lower lip. The corner of his mouth. His jaw. She spoke against his skin.
“So hot right now. And this is definitely date four. I’m counting it.” She sucked on his neck, nipping at the muscle there and pulling the skin into her mouth. Heat shot straight through him and he shifted, his jeans already too tight. “And if you don’t get naked I’m probably going to just dry hump you here. That’s how ready I am.” She never shuts up. “You need to take off these pants and get your fingers on my clit.” He inhaled sharply at the thought, suddenly consumed with the image of her bare and open before him. “And then I am going to absolutely ruin you, Steve.” She settled back down on the floor. “Are you even listening to me? Naked. Now.”
Definitely in the good column.
Also in the good column? How enhanced agility enabled him to take off his jeans without disturbing Darcy’s position between his legs, hands on his knees. Steve pulled off his shirt and undershirt while he was at it. Darcy licked her lips, which was distracting, but while she was busy staring at his abs he wondered if he could peel off his socks without her noticing. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he flexed to hold her attention.
“Can I just say…one more time…and probably again later…that I respect you as a person?”
What? Steve fumbled with his second sock and forced his eyes away from her cleavage and his thoughts away from how she would move once he got his mouth on her. “Uh, what?”
“Just…really…respect the hell out of you. All moral-y and ethic-y and whatnot.” Her fingers slid up his bare thighs, brushing through the hair on his legs and leaving an electric trail under his skin. Steve had been more sensitive since the serum, which was ironic given his apparent purpose was to be shot at, but it certainly gave sex something extra. And Darcy’s cool little fingers, her nails just long enough to prickle, started a full body shiver that took him from semi-hard to completely ready. In the back of his mind, he also had a momentary concern that if her touch on his leg was this good, he might embarrass himself once he had her naked.
Darcy was still talking. “-important. Mutually. Important. To both of us. People.” Her fingers reached the hem of his shorts and slid underneath. Dangerously close – just a little further – to where he wanted her most. “Not that aesthetics aren’t. Important.” She leaned further forward, until her face was inches from his skin. He could feel her breath on his bellybutton. “Abs have…your…but brains too. Love brains. So,” a cool puff of air had his hands fisting against the cushions, “so, so love all of…that stuff.”
Then her lips were on his skin. Steve spent nearly six seconds staring down at her, his mouth hanging open, watching her press kisses across his stomach and down to the rise of his left hipbone to where it met his boxer briefs. Her lips were warmer than her fingers. The dichotomy sent blood rushing to his cock. He was certain he had never gone from mildly anxious to rock hard so quickly.
In the seventh second, he realized two things. One, Darcy was still talking. Two, he should really become more of an active participant.
“-compassion-” she murmured, then flicked out her tongue and Steve twitched, “-and, like, mmm…humor, and, mmm...” Darcy swiped under his waistband and Steve’s hands fell heavily on her shoulders. His thumbs brushed against her neck – the skin so incredibly soft and smooth. His palms gripped her over worn gray cotton; he groaned at the feel of his fingertips sinking into the flesh of her upper arms. He held on there and took a deep breath of air that smelled like her vanilla soap and the faint floral of her shampoo. It didn’t help him hold on to any concrete thoughts.
“…stuff…” Darcy licked again and her right fingers brushed against his balls.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, blue-green and a little unfocused behind her glasses. “I don’t want you to think I’m just about your body.”
“Sweetheart,” Steve paused, trying to think through a response instead of pushing her onto her back and burying his face in her breasts. He knew what she was trying to say, and he appreciated it, he really did. More women than he cared to think about wanted his body and nothing more – the same women who would have never looked at him twice before the serum. Darcy wasn’t like that – but he also didn’t really want to have a discussion about his fucking personality right now. “If I promise I believe you and say we can revisit this later, will you get naked now? Please?”
Her gaze narrowed and gained some clarity. Her rosy lips quirked. “Why Captain, what makes you think I’m that kind of girl?” Darcy pressed her fingers much more firmly against him, cupping his weight and rolling. He groaned again. She whispered, leaning in toward his skin again, “For the record, I am totally that kind of girl.”
She withdrew her hands with another wet kiss to his stomach, then stood. Darcy set her glasses on the unopened lamp box next to the couch and then whipped off her shirt. Some women might have tried to tease the motion out. Darcy definitely, definitely didn’t need to. Their make out session in her office a week prior had left him with a vivid impression of what she looked like and the phantom sensation of full, heavy flesh in his hands under her shirt. Standing there in her bra and denim leggings, Steve realized he had miscalculated. His imagination was a dim fantasy in comparison to all the pink-tipped pale flesh her sheer lingerie left on display. He could practically taste her skin already and his mouth watered a little.
Then she took off her leggings.
It was a process. He had admired similar pants on her more than once – jealous of the way they hugged her body – but he hadn’t really thought about what it would take to get them off. It looked about as time-consuming as getting out of his suit. But he certainly didn’t jiggle like that stripping off kevlar. Steve palmed himself as Darcy bent over to work the tight fabric over her knees. Everything in her bra shifted, and he had to bite his lip to keep from surging off the couch and carrying her straight to the floor.
No carpet yet, he reminded himself. Hardwood would hurt her back. Then Darcy twisted her hips with a swivel and a curse. Her breasts bounced, her head went down near her calves – holy mary mother of god she’s flexible – and her ass went up into the air. She was wearing a thong.
Steve had the insightful and monumental realization that the hardwood wouldn’t hurt him at all.
He grabbed his shirt and hers, and the wallet out of his pants, and was sitting on the floor with her in his lap before she could do more than squeak in protest. He ran his right hand up her bare back, finding the clasp to her bra, while his left stroked down her legs. Her pants were still tangled around her ankles, and Steve didn’t think twice about his next move. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, and swiftly tore through the crotch of her leggings. Darcy made a sound of protest, or maybe just a moan, but he ignored it to swing her now free legs to either side of his hips. The first connection of her hot center to his cock – even with two layers of cloth between them – was heaven.
Or hell. He groaned onto her lips, his body moving of its own accord to grind against her. Both hands moved up to work on her bra and she wrapped her fingers over his shoulders, pressing her weight down into him. She was wet already, dampening the fabric of his underwear and making him curse again.
“This okay?” She didn’t really stop to hear his answer. “It really, really needs to be okay because I think I am dying a little here. Maybe a lot.” She tossed back her head and he finally figured out the clasp. With her movements, the straps fell from her shoulders and Steve was greeted with the most beautiful pair of tits he had ever seen. Full, too full for her small body really, and impossibly high given the size. She had fine, silvery lines along the underside and he wanted to trace each one with his tongue like a road map leading him to her nipples. He hadn’t even touched her yet and they were tight, pale pink berries begging for his mouth.
He cupped her, ducking his head and tasting the faint scars before licking around the crest of her breast, pebbled skin ghosting across his tongue. Her hips stilted.
“Fuck. God. Steve. More. More of that. Please.”
Her inability to form complete sentences sparked an idea in his brain and Steve grasped it with everything he had to form a plan. The plan to make Darcy unable to speak. If there was anything Steve excelled at, it was coming up with a strategy in the field and putting it to use. He sucked a little harder, and Darcy squirmed. He squeezed her other breast and caught that nipple between his first and second fingers, pulling and lightly pinching. She gasped. He twisted, just a bit.
“Ah, no, not like-” Steve switched sides, taking the hint and soothing the tender flesh with his lips. He used his tongue to press the tight berry against the roof of his mouth and she mewled. He grinned against her. “Yes. Yes, just like…oh, Steve. Yeah.”
Steve smoothed his palms down her ribs, circling her waist to dip into her bellybutton. His thumbs caressed the slight swell of her belly – so soft – and met the silky lace of her thong. Wrapping his fingers around the crease between her thigh and hip, he dipped his thumbs in, following the edge of her panties to the damp spot between her legs. For a brief moment, Steve stopped moving his mouth in confusion. He hadn’t been with a lot of women, and only one since the forties, but he had expected…
Darcy yanked on the longer hair on top of his head. “Hey, more things. I can do the things. Don’t worry, Steve. I will totally participate the fuck out of this.” She ground down against him, which had the dual benefit of pressing hot, wet woman against his cock and pushing his thumbs against her. His rough callouses snagged against lace before sliding though a fresh wave of dampness. “Oh, oh, there. Just…there. Can you? Stroke-”
Steve did one better, advancing his plan. He gave her nipple one last wet, sucking kiss, then smoothly rolled down onto his back. His palms slid down to her knees, catching her there and pulling her forward until she was balanced next to his ears. All she had to do was lean over and he would have perfect access to make Darcy forget how to speak.
“Did you?” She blinked down at him. Her eyebrows were drawn together and her lips were swollen and red – lipstick smeared at the corners. “Is that my shirt?” Steve grinned in response, stroking her legs and tucking his thumbs under the edge of her panties. “Did you make me kneepads?”
From the corner of his eye, Steve could see the white cotton of his own undershirt cushioning her weight. “Couldn’t have my girl getting bruises. None she didn’t enjoy, anyhow.”
Darcy rolled her eyes and smirked. “Who says I wouldn’t – hey!”
Steve tore her underwear, the thin fabric ripping at the seams and pulling away in one sodden, sheer scrap. He tossed it aside to stare instead. Darcy was bare. A part of his mind processed that, realizing it was why she had felt so smooth under his thumbs. He wondered how common it was – he had seen modern porn. He had the internet for crying out loud. But he had figured that was just something done for show – aesthetics and the logistics of filming while staying prepared and well lit. He had never expected to see it in person. Another part of him was busy trying to wrest a little bit of blood away from his dick so he could think long enough to take action. Darcy was beautiful. All dark pink flesh, swollen with arousal and shiny-slick. He dipped his thumbs again, angling down to catch her outer lips as far back as he could reach and then drag her open. She felt like velvet. Like hot, wet, sin, and Steve was more than ready to drown.
“Hey! Hey…I liked. Oh. Steve, just. Pressure, at the top – please. Ungh.”
As he spread her open, her inner lips clenched and he took a deep breath of her scent. Musky, a little sweet. Perhaps it was because his first intimate experience with a girl had been a lesson in using his tongue. Perhaps it was just that Steve had always liked being able to take charge of a situation – and that he liked doing things for people he cared about. Perhaps it was the guiltily enjoyed drunk monologue, spoken in the darkest hours of their shared apartment, when Bucky had explained how to make a girl pray without ever going to church. Regardless, Steve enjoyed giving oral and he wasn’t going to wait any longer.
He braced one palm below her left breast, cupping the firm mound and supporting her weight. The other he slid around to squeeze her bottom and urge her forward. Darcy swayed in surprise, falling onto her hands. He had to tilt his head to look up at her. He couldn’t see her face past those glorious tits.
“Okay, sweetheart?” God, he really hoped it was okay. She was inches from his mouth and Steve knew he could make her fall apart – which was important, because he might not last long once he was inside her. Who was he kidding? He’d be lucky if he didn’t come in his shorts, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get Darcy off first.
“Uh, yeah. You don’t have to…I mean, I like…” That was all he needed to hear. He pressed the flat of his tongue at the bottom of her slit, licking firmly and spreading her open as he moved up. “Steve?” Her voice went up two octaves. Steve followed her direction and increased the pressure as he reached her clit, laving around the bundle of nerves and smiling when her hips bucked.
He kneaded her breast, rolling her nipple before dragging his hand down to help his mouth. He pressed his thumb against her opening and continued to work his lips and tongue around her clit with alternating direction and pressure. Increasingly, Steve had to grip her bottom tighter to keep her from bumping too hard into his face or bucking off of him entirely. Moisture was collecting on his chin and Steve began pumping slowly with his thumb.
“Ah, God. Steve! Yes…more…there, no! Down, down. Ah!”
Darcy stopped talking after that. For the next four or five minutes she was silent except for moans, gasps, and the occasional blasphemous use of his name. It was the hottest thing he had ever heard. And her taste. Holy hell. Just like the musky, sweet smell of her with a tang of salt that had him eager to dive in for more. He had to remind himself to keep his lips on her clit. Plunging his tongue into her would be good for him, but she needed a bit more finesse. Pressure here. Stroke there. Swirl. Flick. Swirl. Draw. He pulled her sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth and applied suction. Then tapped with the end of his tongue.
Darcy’s arms gave out.
For a few seconds, Steve had a face and arm full of trembling, sweaty woman. Even with his aching, unattended cock, they were some of the best moments of his life. With a grunt she rolled over, leaving one leg stretched across his neck and chest. Steve firmly stroked her thigh and grasped her hip. He looked up at her. She was flushed with exertion from her cheeks to the tops of her breasts. Prettiest tits, he thought stupidly. The blue-green of her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Steve felt a surge of pride and happiness and arousal and something else he was pretty sure was love.
Her voice croaked, “Five out of five. Would use service again.”
Steve barked out a laugh. Definitely love. “Don’t review yet. I have other features you haven’t tried.”
“Oh,” she cleared her sore throat and tried to sit up. Steve had to help her untangle her legs. “Well, I retract my statement then. Never say I…” Darcy frowned. “Steven Rogers, did you destroy my pants?”
Steve glanced at the wadded up denim remains around her ankles. The left side had worked partway off, hanging from her foot mournfully. Maybe he should have tried to look more apologetic. He could have played it off as a one-time accident. But Steve wasn’t going to lie to her or himself. He definitely would be doing that again. He did, however, casually sweep her torn panties under his t-shirt as he sat up. He also noticed he was still wearing his right sock, and tried to toe it off before she noticed how ridiculous he looked.
“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He gripped her ankle and tugged lightly, trying to pull her back to him. She resisted with narrow eyes.
“I really liked those, Steve. Do you know how hard it is with an ass like mine to find pants that don’t gap at the waist? Those were excellent-”
“Sweetheart,” Steve said, as seriously as he could manage with his face covered in her juices and his dick bobbing an angry red against his stomach. “How can I possibly make this up to you?”
Darcy gave in to his urging and moved to straddle his thighs. “Well. I suppose…If you can convince me that you’re willing to work for it.”
He smiled, reaching for his wallet and the condom inside. “It would be my genuine pleasure.”