'If you ever get the chance, shower with them. I did. Mmm, it's a mindscrambler. Hurts so good.'- Lisa (Weird Science, 1985)
"You can touch me, you know," Steve says with a lopsided grin as he washes his hair.
"Uh yeah," Darcy says tugging at the hem of her soaked t-shirt.
"You made me. You can do anything you want with me. Anything," Steve says, arching his left brow before ducking his head under the spray of water. Darcy watches the bubbles trail down his chest and abdomen and...oh god. She licks her lips, cheeks burning hot, hands itching to explore.
Darcy worries her bottom lip between her teeth, thoughts and doubts swirling around her head. Fuck it.
"Right," she says more to herself than Steve as she reaches for her pink shower puff and squeezes a dollop of coconut body wash on it. Steve's eyes are still closed, his hands running through his hair when she tentatively places the puff on his chest.
Steve doesn't stop her but his arms drop to his sides, blue eyes sparkling down at her, a smirk turning up his lips. God, she is so glad Jane went home.
She follows the contours of his chest, freezing when Steve wraps his hand around her free wrist and brings her hand up to his chest above his heart. Darcy's mouth opens and closes, but she can't make any words form on her tongue.
"I'm yours," Steve says with a smile, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her wrist. "Touch me."
"Okay, yeah. Totes can do," Darcy mutters to herself. Steve laughs, his shoulders shaking, hand falling away from her wrist, and her hand slips down, palm flat against his stomach. Darcy’s eyes trail down to his belly button, but she can't quite make her eyes drop lower yet. The pink shower puff slips from her hand and lands on her toes.
"You're so warm," Darcy says, deciding it isn't just the warm water; his skin is actually that hot to touch. He doesn't comment, just makes a humming sound as she runs her hands over his chest, swirling though his chest hair. Her thumbnail grazes against his nipple. Steve gasps and drags his teeth on his full bottom lip.
A thrill shoots through Darcy, heat settling low in her belly, and she presses her thighs together. She darts a glance up to Steve's face; his eyes are heavy lidded and his mouth curved up in a slight smirk. She slides her hands down over his stomach, fingertips grazing his abdomen.
"You can look you know," Steve says and Darcy blushes hotter. "You made me. I'm here to please you…pleasure you, if you want me to, Darcy."
"I know," Darcy says, letting her fingertips glide up and down his abdomen again. She bites her lip and lets her gaze drop to his cock. For a minute she forgets to breathe as her brain rattles through the anatomy diagrams and porn she has read and watched. A part of her wants to measure the curve, draw each detail; mostly she wants to touch, but she can't seem to make her hands move.
"Breathe, Darcy," Steve chuckles and his cock jerks.
"Oh," Darcy says taking another steadying breath and feeling terribly awkward and inexperienced.
"You can touch me," he repeats.
"I am touching you," Darcy snarks back and Steve chuckles again. She licks her lips and slides her right hand down to Steve's hip and inward along his thigh. Her fingertips graze the shaft and Steve groans low in his throat.
Darcy bites her lip, finger tracing along a vein and Steve spreads his feet further apart as she explores him. She traces around the head of his cock, glancing up through her eyelashes to his face. Steve's eyes are closed, lips parted, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. The water washes down on them, it's hot and steady and real. Darcy closes her eyes for a moment, caught up in thrill of it all.
"Darcy?" Steve says softly, and her eyes snap open to meet his gaze. His eyes are so dark now, barely a drop of blue left, cheeks flushed pink, lips red. He is beautiful and real beneath her hands. He is hers. She curls her finger gently around his cock. It's solid and hot in her hand and another shiver shoots down her spine when Steve groans.
"Kiss me," she says, wincing at her own clumsiness. Steve smiles at her, bright and open; then his mouth is on hers, his hands heavy on her hips. Sipping kisses, she thinks, as he kisses her gently, tiny little kisses that make butterflies swirl in her belly. "More," she says against his mouth and his tongue presses between her lips, explores her teeth, the roof of her mouth, curls against her tongue. He kisses her until she is dizzy with want, nipples aching and heat coiling tight in her belly.
"Wow," Darcy says leaning her head against Steve's shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Mhmm," Steve murmurs into her hair.
"What do I do now? I mean…I get the mechanics of what you do but...damn," Darcy says, hand still curled around his cock. "Tell me what to do."
"Like this," Steve rumbles, wrapping his hand around hers, squeezing and guiding her hand in a slow stroke down and up again. He pulls his hand away from hers, places it back on her hip, his thumb sweeping under the hem of her grey t-shirt to rub a circle above the line of her red and white striped panties. Darcy strokes him slowly at first, listening to every little moan he makes. "Rub your thumb over the head. Gently," Steve instructs voice low, eyes focused on her hand. She slides her hand up and rubs her thumb up and over the head of his dick. Steve's hips jerk forward, his thumbs pressing into her hips hard, and Darcy shivers.
"So hot," she murmurs. Steve thrusts into her hand.
"Harder," Steve rasps and kisses her, hard and deep. He tugs at her bottom lip and Darcy moans, her hand slowing on his cock. Steve covers her hand again, guiding her, and she pulls her mouth away to watch their joined hands pump. "I'm close."
"Do it," Darcy says and Steve groans, speeding up the movement of their hands. Half a dozen more strokes and Steve comes, sticky and hot, over their hands.
"Damn," Steve murmurs. Darcy can’t find the syllables to say anything; she just watches in fascination as he pulls her hand under the water and washes her fingers clean.
Steve kisses her, slow and dizzying, his thumb drawing circles on her hip while his other hand tangles in her wet hair. Darcy wraps her arms around his neck pressing into his chest. The friction against her nipples through the thin cotton of her t-shirt and bra feels so good. She loosens her arms around his neck, takes a half step back and pulls her t-shirt over her head.
Darcy shifts nervously, embarrassed at her hideous beige bra as she reaches behind her back to unhook it. Steve's hand covers her and she startles looking up into his blue eyes. "You don't need to do that," he says cupping her jaw, a line of worry creasing his brow.
"I want to. I want you to touch me," Darcy says tugging the hooks free, slipping the straps from her shoulders, cradling one arm across her breasts as she pulls the bra free and drops it in the corner of the stall on her sodden t-shirt.
"C'mere," Steve says, pulling her into his chest like she is made of the same spun glass as butterflies decorating her window. He turns them so Darcy's back is warmed by the hot spray of water, her chest heated by his hot skin. "Wrap your arms around me," Steve says his hands on her shoulders. Darcy's tense and she can't make her brain stop worrying about everything, but she does as he asks sliding her palms flat against his lower back.
Steve's hands move from her shoulders and he reaches out grabbing the bottle of coconut body wash. "I'm going to wash your back now," he says. The bottle top clicks and he places it back on the shelf. Steve's hands slide over her back, little sweeps and swirls of his fingertips, firmer press of the heel of his hand running up and down her spine.
"More," she says as she looks up into Steve's eyes. A chuckle rumbles through Steve's chest as he slides his hands under the elastic of her panties to cup her ass. He pulls her up on her toes, kisses her till her head is spinning and she aches between her thighs.
"Turn around for me," Steve says softly and it takes Darcy a moment to let the idea rattle around in her head.
"Okay," she says turning so her back is flush to his chest while Steve squeezes more soap into his palm. He rubs his hands together, soap bubbles trailing down his wrists.
"Okay?" Steve asks placing his hands on her belly and pulling her back so she can feel his cock hard against her.
"Yes," she gasps out, wrapping her arm over the back of his neck as his hands glide over her skin. Steve kisses her neck, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. Darcy whimpers arching, into his hands.
"So beautiful," Steve murmurs in her ear, rolling her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Darcy cries out, her hips rolling forward as heat shivers down her spine. Steve slides his right hand down her belly to the edge of her panties. His fingertips trace back and forth along the elastic. His touch is light and teasing and not where she wants it at all.
"Touch me," she blurts out and Steve kisses her neck as his hand slides under the elastic. She thinks about taking her panties off, about running out of hot water, being caught naked in the shower, Steve turning back into a plastic toy and bits of computer code, until his fingers touch her and spread her lips apart like petals and…she really should stop reading Jane's romance novels.
Steve swirls his fingertip against her clit, and she can’t think any more, only feel. Darcy's nails dig into Steve's thigh, the back of his neck, and there is a whimpering sound that she barely recognises as her own voice. "Come for me, Darcy," Steve whispers low into her ear and she can't decide if it’s the sexiest or most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. He pinches her nipple, mouth hot on her neck, fingers circling, and her vision turns black as she comes.
Steve's name is a heavy weight on her tongue as she wakes, aftershocks coursing through her body. The sheets are tangled around her legs, her grey Hello Kitty t-shirt is on the floor beside the bed. She reaches up to touch her hair, surprised to find it dry. Darcy presses her thighs together, gasping at how sensitive she is, and slips her hand between her thighs. Her panties are soaked. "Well, fuck," she mutters, covering her eyes with her arm. She is never going to be able to look Steve in the eye again.
The alarm on her phone starts bleating frantically and Darcy grabs her phone, kicking her legs free of the sheets. Sitting up is an effort she could do without, but if she is late with Jane's injection of caffeine and sugar there is the possibility of birthing a new Super-villian.
Darcy drags her shirt over her head, recalling tower rule twenty-seven: If you are naked there will be an emergency. The rules don't say anything about having soaked panties from a sex dream about one of your best friends. Or the phantom feeling of his hands all over her. Her legs are wobbly when she stands, a twinge between her legs, and fuck, that was one hell of an orgasm.
"Why Weird Science, brain? That's just strange. And Steve? Fuck fuck fuckity fuck," Darcy mutters as she pulls clothes out for the day and stalks to the bathroom. It's not that she hasn't thought that way about Steve before—he's gorgeous, has a wry sense of humour, is a geek, and occasionally gets away with a hell of a lot of bullshit with the fangirling agents.
Switching the shower on, she strips off her shirt and wet panties with a wrinkle of her nose. Under the cascade of the water she tries to sort out her scattered thoughts. She closes her eyes and the dream blooms behind her eyelids, Steve's soapy hands caressing her breasts, his skin under her fingertips. Darcy cups her breast, thumbing her nipple, and slips her hand between her thighs.
"Stop it. I'm not thinking about this, brain," she mutters. Opening her eyes and dropping her hands away, she grabs the pink shower puff with an embarrassed grimace. At least her shower gel is lime scented, and not coconut. Why she remembers a scent from a dream is beyond her.
The day went like any other—chasing Jane and a gaggle of semi useful squints around the lab, drinking more coffee than was strictly sane, and avoiding Steve Rogers at all costs as she traipsed about the tower running various errands (procuring fresh pop tarts and more coffee) and not thinking about vivid dreamscapes.
Three steps from her door that evening, her plans for hiding out for forever are blown all to hell with seven words. "Hey, Lewis! You comin' to movie night?" Clint shouts from down the hall.
"Uh, yeah, just gonna get my jammies on," Darcy says, keying in her door code. "What movie?"
"Dunno, think it's John Hughes night, The Breakfast Club maybe," Clint shrugs and disappears into a doorway Darcy can't remember ever seeing before.
Dressed in a her favourite pajamas: blue pants with puffy white clouds, a blue tank top with a happy cartoon sun, and a faded yellow hooded sweatshirt with a broken zipper and frayed cuffs, she walks into the living room.
"Hi, Darcy," Steve says with a warm smile when she drops down on the sofa.
"Hey, Steve," Darcy says, fighting not to blush when Steve's gaze sweeps over her.
"No bunny slippers tonight?" Steve grins, left eyebrow arching up at Darcy's bare toes.
"My toes are pretty today," Darcy says, wiggling her toes showing off glittery teal nail polish.
"Very pretty," Steve says and Darcy's stomach does not flip. Only it does. Oh, fuckballs.
"Enough flirting, you two," Tony says as he claps his hands together and assorted Avengers, scientists, and Pepper Potts take their seats.
"We're not flirting," Darcy says too quickly, and Tony rolls his eyes.
"Whatever, kettle. It’s time for a cinema classic. A tale of science, experimentation, 80s fashion, and lust. I present to you Weird Science! Roll film, Jarvis," Tony grins, and Darcy's stomach drops somewhere around the region of her knees. Oh, god, no. "Scoot over towards lover boy there," Tony says, making a shooing motion with his hand. She scoots over until her arm and thigh brush against Steve's and his warmth seeps through her clothes.
Watching movies with the 'family' is usually a bit like Mystery Science Theater 3000 with added arguing over bad science, inaccurate weapons, historical inaccuracy, pretty much anything and everything. It was pretty fucking awesome actually. This time though? Not so much awesome as panic inducing. All Darcy can think about is Steve next to her.
The shower scene starts and Darcy hides behind her raised hands, face red with embarrassment. She can feel Steve watching her and that only makes her squirm internally all the more. Steve taps his fingers on Darcy's knee and she looks up to meet his curious gaze and quirked eyebrow. Kill me now.
The second the credits roll, Darcy mutters an excuse about calling her mom and makes good on her escape, or so she thinks. The second she finishes punching the code in on her door, someone clears their throat loudly.
“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but you call your mother on Tuesdays and today isn’t Tuesday,” Steve says as he leans casually on the wall.
“Um,” Darcy says pushing open her door and stepping through, Steve following her before she can close the door on him.
“So what’s going on? You’ve been acting odd all night.”
“Nothing, just a…um, headache?” Darcy says looking down as she pulls at a loose thread on her cuff.
“Was that a question?”
“Yes. No. God, I don’t know. Just say goodnight, Steve.”
“Goodnight, Steve,” he says dryly, managing to startle a laugh out of her. “It can’t have been the movie, it’s less risqué than Thor choosing to make us all watch Game of Thrones last month. You were particularly squeamish around the shower scene.”
“Oh, god,” Darcy says, raising her hands to cover her burning face.
“So it’s the shower scene?” Steve asks, curling his hands around her wrists and pulling her hands down. “What about the shower scene has you so damn rattled?”
“You don’t want to know,” Darcy says, avoiding his gaze as she twists her wrists free.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“When did you become such a jerk?”
“When did you start avoiding questions?”
“Ihadadreamthatwewereintheshowertogether,” Darcy mumbles and Steve narrows his eyes at her.
“What on Earth did you just say?”
“Fuck you, Steven Grant Rogers. I had a dream last night…this morning.”
“I dreamt we were in the shower, and it was like the movie except the roles were reversed; I was innocent and virginal and you weren’t, and…um…things happened,” Darcy says, looking anywhere but at Steve.
“What things happened?” Steve asks his face is passive but his eyes are far too amused.
“I...you can’t seriously be asking me what happened in a sex dream?” she mutters.
“Can’t I?” Steve asks, the almost grim line of his mouth cracking into a shit-eating grin.
“Aren’t you supposed to be all gentlemanly and virtuous?”
“Captain America is. I am not,” Steve says with a rueful smirk. He leans forward, then, and Darcy’s heart nearly stops when his lips brush against her cheek. “Anytime you want to tell me your dream and make it real, doll, I’m yours.”