"I finally get everything I wanted, and I'm wearing tights." -Steve Rogers
"Christ, Rogers, you look like hell," she says as he pushes through the tent flaps.
"Darce," Steve says and pulls her into his arms, mouth hot on hers. He licks into her mouth and she melts into him, pushing his helmet off to thread her fingers through his thick hair.
"I am furious with you," Darcy gasps against his mouth.
"I know, doll."
"Are you hurt?" Darcy asks, pulling at his leather coat, nimble fingers unhooking the straps of his belt, letting it clatter to the canvas in her rush to push the jacket from his shoulders, running her hands over his blue shirt. Steve's captures her hand above the star.
"M'fine, Darce. Jus' bruised and dirty," he says and she pulls her hand out of his grasp to tug his shirt up. He helps her pull the shirt over his head and she runs her hands over the hard muscles of his chest. "You sure you should be here? What if...."
"The girls have me covered for the next hour. I'm all yours Captain," she says with a saucy wink. Darcy drops down on her knees to begin unlacing his sturdy boots.
"I can do that," Steve grumbles and she ignores him, batting his hands away when he tries to help. He leans back against the small chest of drawers, the only furniture in the room besides the cot and a folding chair.
She tugs his boots and socks off, reaches for the belt of his trousers, and Steve's breath catches. She smiles up at him and pulls the zip down, tugs his pants down to pool around his ankles. "You've still got the tights on?" Darcy says and Steve grimaces.
"There wasn't enough time," he mutters and she runs her knuckles along the ridged length of his erection tenting his shorts. He groans low and grips the edge of the dresser. The wood creaks under his hands and she hooks her fingers in his blue shorts sliding them down his legs until he is in nothing but his blue tights.
"Naughty boy, there are runs in these tights," she says running her hands up his legs and leaning forward to kiss the underside of his cock through the thin blue fabric.
"Darce," Steve chokes out, his hips rocking forward.
"Quiet," Darcy breathes against him, rubs her lips back and forth against the head, her hands skating up the backs of his thighs to where his ass presses against the dresser. Desire coils low in her belly, and her panties grow damp with every muffled sound he makes.
Steve shoves his hand against his mouth, bites down on the flesh when she mouths him through the tights. His cock twitches and his hips jerk as she teases him. The dresser groans under his grip when he comes, eyes closed and head thrown back exposing the column of his throat. She uses her hand to help him through every last shudder, just like he showed her months ago, and climbs to her feet with a sharp grin across her face.
"Damn it, Darce. Those were my last good pair," Steve grumbles and kisses her temple, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and the jut of her chin before he claims her mouth. His tongue curls against hers, and she moans into his mouth.
"I'll wash 'em for you later," Darcy grins against his mouth. She curls her fingers into his sticky tights and peels them down his legs, kneeling to pull them off his feet. "Mmmm that's better now," she murmurs, wrapping her fingers around his still hard cock and stroking him gently till he pulls her hand away and yanks her to her feet.
"You have far too many clothes on, Darce. Take 'em off for me."
She starts to take her dress off, fingers struggling with all the buttons till he helps her. His hands sure and steady, callouses rough on her skin, as he strips her bare and lays her back on his narrow cot. "You're still in trouble you know. Don't think I'm gonna forgive you for running off to save your friend and not telling me," Darcy whispers and blinks back tears. "I was so worried."
"I know, doll."
"Don't do it again. Don't be stupid," she orders and he arches a brow and pushes her knees apart to press between them. The tent is freezing but his skin is hot to the touch. She traces the bruises on his arms and chest, a blush rising on her cheeks as he watches her. She wraps her legs around him and tugs at his hair. "Kiss me."
"Yes ma'am." He grins that lopsided grin that makes her belly flip. Then his mouth is on hers, hips rocking against her.
He trails kisses down her neck, nuzzles between her breasts, suckling her nipples until they are hard buds in his mouth. His teeth graze her ribs and she slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her giggle. "Stop it," she hisses and he grins so wide she wonders if his cheeks ache.
He kisses her belly, swirls his tongue in the dip of her belly button. Darcy's eyes widen and she can feel the blush blooming on her face and chest as he drops a kiss on the triangle of dark curls between her thighs. It's not that he hasn't done it before, but it makes her blush and squirm until his mouth is pressed against her, his tongue teasing in circles around her clit.
He wraps an arm around her thigh, keeping her still while he fucks her with his tongue. Her nails dig into his scalp as she tugs on his hair, her other palm flat across her mouth. She's close to the edge when he plunges two fingers into her pussy, dragging them out slowly until she comes apart for him. Back arching off the woolen blanket, scream muffled by her hand.
"Damn," Steve says with a wicked grin, lips glossy and red as he rubs her thigh.
"You got a rubber?" she whispers and bites her lip, waiting for his answer. They have only had sex a handful of times; there is never much spare time to sneak off together, or both be naked. It's been weeks and she wants him inside her, filling her, stretching her.
"Yeah, I...yeah," he says roughly and she squeezes his head between her thighs. "I'll just..."
"Hey, punk, you in here?" a voice calls out and Darcy pulls a pistol from under the pillow and levels it at the head poking in the flap of the tent. "Well, damn, Rogers, but that ain't Agent Carter."
"Get out, Buck," Steve orders, throwing his tattered leather jacket over her. It smells of gun powder, fire, earth, and sweat. Bucky backs out of the tent with a chuckle. "M'sorry Darcy."
"Don't be. It coulda been far worse," she murmurs, lowering the pistol and untangling her legs. They dress in a rush, Steve helping her button her dress and tidy her hair. She nods, squares her shoulders and Steve reaches through the tent flap to drag Bucky back in.
"Watch it, punk," Bucky glowers as he straightens out his shirt and plasters a smile on his face. "Hello there, sweetheart."
"Bucky, I'd like you to meet Agent Elizabeth Darcy Lewis from the SSR..." Steve hesitates and he locks his gaze with hers until she nods. "Colonel Phillips’ granddaughter...and my wife."
"My wife," Steve says firmly and Bucky's eyebrow twitches up.
"Good to finally meet you, Sergeant," Darcy says and Bucky narrows his eyes at her.
"How'd you meet?"
"I was undercover as one of the showgirls, there was... an incident," she answers diplomatically and Steve snorts.
"Hardly an incident," he says and Darcy rolls her eyes while Bucky looks between them. "Some goon tried to have his way with one of the girls."
"And you ran in to play hero?"
"No, Darce beat me to it. She broke his nose and kicked him in the...uh, plums," Steve grins and Bucky winces.
"Nobody knows about this? No ring?" Bucky asks jerking his chin at Darcy's left hand where a ring should be.
"The girls from the show, Peggy, and now you," Steve says and Darcy pulls a silver chain from her pocket, on the end is a thin gold ring with a tiny sapphire stone. "Hey, Buck."
"Mind giving me a few minutes alone with Darce before she has to go back?" Steve says.
"No problem. Gotta see a man about a horse anyhow. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Bucky says with a wide grin and winks at Darcy before slipping out of the tent again.
"C'mere," Steve says wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.
"So about that rubber, Captain Rogers," she says tapping the top button on his shirt.
"I have one right here, Mrs. Rogers," Steve says his whole face lighting up as he smiles at her.