“Well, the jet’s not landing in this.”
Steve crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked out from the tiny window of the safe house. Lightning crackled across the night sky, splitting it in two and lighting the valley for a hot second. Thunder rolled and the sky flashed bright again just moments after.
Darcy stepped up beside him, almost pressing her nose to the window, watching as the rain lashed against it, pounding upon the glass and making it tremble. Rainwater collected on the pane, spilling down in rivulets to the windowsill, fat drops hanging from the guttering before falling to their deaths on the cobbled path outside.
“Remind me again why we’re in Scotland and not on a beach in Hawaii?” She grumbled, mostly under her breath and apparently forgetting entirely about Steve’s enhanced hearing. He shot her a sideways look that she also missed, now pressing a hand up against the glass and her breath fogging it in front of her, but opted not to comment. He didn’t really know Darcy, even after spending nearly a week with her sequestered in this tiny house in the Scottish highlands.
She’d come with glowing recommendations from Thor, and even Stark who’d grudgingly admitted that she had skills with the computer. Sam had taken one look over her and popped an eyebrow, pulling a face at Steve from behind her that let him know that, whatever other skills she possessed, the girl came Wilson-approved. Sam was turning out as bad as Natasha for trying to set him up with people, and Steve was starting to tire of it, for all their good intentions. For one thing, he was perfectly capable of finding someone on his own, and for another he was happy to take his time about it.
Steve didn’t know what they were seeing in Darcy, though. Not in the context of her and him, together, anyway. He thought she was pretty, obviously, because he might have been fast approaching his centenary but he wasn’t actually dead yet. Her dark curls against the pale of her skin set off the blue of her eyes in a way that a lot of girls would have killed for, and he’d caught himself absentmindedly running his eyes on her curves more than once. Steve might have been Captain America, but he was also a man.
But Darcy was a child of the modern age through and through, and half the time he was simply overwhelmed by her. She talked nineteen to the dozen, and didn’t seem to require either breath or someone else to participate in the conversation. She worked the keyboard of her laptop like it was magic, fingers dancing across it and the odd language she worked in reflected back in her eyes as it whirled past on the screen, somehow unlocking doors in buildings half a world away with four keystrokes and a sly tilt to the corner of her mouth that let him know she’d done it again.
Steve, who had tried to learn about computers but had given up the fight after he’d learned how to access his emails, had spent most of the week watching in pure amazement as she sat in her pyjamas at the rickety wooden table that took up half the kitchen in the little house they’d been stuck in; bare feet curled around the chair legs and sipping at a large cup of tea, and took down something she called a firewall. Again, and again.
The safe house was small.
Incredibly small, even by Steve’s standards, and he’d been judging against the tiny apartment he’d shared with Bucky in the back end of Brooklyn in the ‘30s. The downstairs was just one room; living room and kitchen all shuffled up against each other, the kitchen counter jutting awkwardly into the living space. Darcy had taken one look at it and commented that it almost looked embarrassed, like it knew it was encroaching on space it wasn’t supposed to be in.
The front door, a small rickety wooden thing of dubious quality, painted what had once probably been a merry blue on the outside but now with the paint peeling and flaking from it, opened straight into the room. Darcy had told him, though he hadn’t actually asked, that really it was a cottage if it did that. Steve supposed she was right.
The upstairs comprised two tiny bedrooms and an even smaller bathroom wedged between them. One that had spluttered dirty brown water from the tap in the sink when Darcy had first turned it on, and her howl of indignation had brought Steve squeezing into the room as well. Darcy all but perched in the bath to make space for him - also small, also not enough room for Steve, he’d spent the week stripping at the sink and washing himself that way like he’d had to in the war - as he bent and tried his best to fix it. Somehow he’d managed it, and the water now ran clear; or at least not a rusty brown colour.
As the lightning flashed again, and the rain lashed even harder at the lead-lined windows, Darcy threw herself bodily on to the ancient couch, tucking her legs up under her chin, and flipped open the laptop that seemed to Steve to be permanently attached to her. The screen lit up her face briefly before she groaned and shut it again.
“Oh dear,” Steve said, shaking his head and still looking out across the valley - or the little that he could see of it - watching the storm rage over the mountains that lined it. “We might have to actually talk to each other.”
“Didn’t think you liked it when I talked.” Darcy mumbled quietly, raising an eyebrow to herself and fiddling with the edge of the laptop where the power cord connected, popping it in and out repeatedly. That threw Steve for a loop, and he turned back from the window, a puzzled look on his face. Darcy did not look up at him. He wasn’t sure she’d meant him to hear it.
“I like it when you talk.” He said, looking over at her huddled into the couch. “I don’t understand half of what you’re saying, but… Do you honestly think I don’t?” The girl looked up at him from where she was perched on the couch, and blinked. He noticed her grip tighten on the edge of the laptop as she cradled it towards her. She sucked on her lower lip and scrunched her face up at him as she thought about answering him.
“I think-” Darcy paused and put a hand to her head, brushing her fingers over her hair and then pulling it back to her face, inspecting her hand. She felt her fingers together and grimaced, looking up from her position cross-legged on the couch. “I think the roof is leaking.” As she finished speaking, Steve looked up as well and squinted at the ceiling. It was indeed dripping, water collecting into one damp spot that was growing even as he looked at it.
He stepped forward and up, putting one foot gingerly on the couch, lest it collapse underneath his weight. Darcy scooted back from him, pressing herself against the back of it and almost disappearing within it as the soft cushions parted. Steve, balanced carefully on the edge of the couch, reached out a hand toward the damp patch and poked.
The ceiling opened.
“Oh god, oh god-” Darcy spluttered in shock as cold water cascaded over her. Steve jerked his way back off the couch and pulled her up instantly, cradling her into his side, tucking her firmly under one arm and into his chest, reaching for the shield he’d left resting against the edge of the couch and drawing it over them both. The water kept coming, hitting the metal of the shield and bouncing off.
“What do we do?” Darcy choked out, clinging to him and he looked down at her guiltily, all wet hair plastered against her face, and he wanted to apologise for soaking her but she was already talking again. “Don’t suppose you have a roofing kit in that utility belt of yours?”
“It’s not standard issue,” He laughed, then shuddered, grimacing, as his grip on the shield shifted slightly and water dripped down the back of his collar and ran down his back. “Bucket?”
“I think there’s one - hang on.” And she was gone, slipped out from under his arm and leaving both a wet handprint on his chest and a slight burning sensation in the pit of his stomach that Steve couldn’t quite focus on at that moment.
Darcy dropped to her knees in front of the kitchen sink and hauled open the cupboard doors, rifling through the junk that was stored under there. Steve flipped the shield and turned it upwards, catching the rainwater in the curve as Darcy continued to hunt, pulling a face as she wiped away cobwebs and sent little spiders skittering their way into the dark corners of the cupboard.
“Gotcha.” She exclaimed, and scrambled backwards, tugging out a large bucket improbably stuffed behind the pipework. She turned back to Steve in triumph, waving it above her head. Still holding up the shield, he gave her a smile over his shoulder. Darcy placed it in front of his feet, reaching around him and laying a hand on the small of his back as she did so. Steve’s head jerked towards the little brunette as she touched him, but she didn’t look back at him.
Lightning flashed again, lighting up the inside of the cottage and illuminating them both. Thunder followed soon after, the sound of it crashing against the house like a wave over a rock. Steve pulled the shield away from where he’d been holding it up to the ceiling, and they both looked down at the bucket, and the steady drip-drip that hit the bottom of it.
“Well,” Darcy said, eyes on the bucket. “No more sitting on the couch.” Steve’s gaze flicked up; the couch was soaked through and there was a puddle formed on the seat. He sighed, and reminded himself that the storm would surely be over by the morning, and they’d not have to stay there any longer. He turned back to Darcy, stood beside him, close but not quite touching him, and he realised the hairs on his arms were standing up.
“You’re soaked,” He said, looking down at her and feel guilt stab at him again. Her dark hair was plastered against her cheeks and he could see she was starting to shiver. Steve’s gaze travelled down as she wrapped her arms around herself and he realised with a start that her pale t-shirt had turned completely see-through. He coughed, trying to swallow back the burst of white-hot heat that had burned its way instantly up his spine as he looked at the curve of her breasts and the way her nipples were starting to peak against the wet material.
Darcy nodded dumbly, shoulders shaking, and Steve, dragging his eyes away from places they had no right to be, put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her towards the stairs.
“Get out of that, I’ll bring you a towel.”
Steve bundled his way into the tiny bedroom Darcy had been occupying for the week, and stopped short as he suddenly remembered the differences between boys and girls, and indeed the reason why they had separate bedrooms on a mission, and a really good reason for knocking before entering. Darcy was in the act of pulling off her t-shirt, having already discarded her jeans, stood with her back to him in a tiny pair of black panties and a matching bra.
He wanted to move, his brain was screaming at him to move, but Steve remained rooted to the spot, clutching the soft towel to his chest and winding his fingers into the material, twisting it tighter and tighter around one index finger as his eyes slipped up Darcy’s bare legs. They travelled upwards, swept across the curve of her ass and noted the trickle of rainwater edging its way down her spine, under her bra and running down the small of her back.
Darcy had spent the week in a succession of oversized sweaters, telling him over and over that she was wearing at least two t-shirts under them as well because it was so goddamned cold, and could he please remind her again why it was that Tony Stark had ended up with the safe house in Bali when they were stuck in the backend of beyond freezing their asses off?
He could see her ass now, the frankly tiny panties stretched invitingly over it, and the primal voice that lurked on the edge of his subconscious was asking an awful lot of questions about the necessity of those oversized sweaters and reprimanding him harshly for not having offered the girl an alternate way to keep warm.
She dropped the t-shirt to the ground, letting her wet hair fall back against her skin with a slap, shaking her head and letting droplets of water fly over the floor.
“You going to stay in the doorway, or…?”
Steve was aware he’d turned a deep pink, caught in the act of looking where he shouldn’t, and thrust the towel towards her mutely as she turned on her heel to look at him. He dropped his eyes to the floor and stared at his feet, waiting for her to take the towel. When she finally did, he swerved in the doorway, keeping his eyes down.
“See something other than a computer nerd?”
Steve paused, one hand high on the door frame, practically touching the ceiling, and rolling his jaw as he debated how to answer. He turned his head slowly, chancing a glance over his shoulder and looked at her standing there. Hand on her hip and holding the towel against it, but still dripping wet and in her underwear. Darcy raised an eyebrow. Steve bit his lip and then turned back to her properly.
“Do you… Want to look?” Her voice was hesitant, and Steve inhaled sharply.
“Am I allowed to say yes?” Steve answered softly without really thinking, and he caught the barest nod of her head as he spoke.
He stepped forward, and she held her position, tilting her chin slightly to keep her gaze on him. He took another step and that brought him so that he was almost pressed against her, just an inch or so of breathing space between them. He looked down and brought a cautious hand to trace the edge of her cheek, dropping to her chin. Darcy put a shy hand to his hip and he sighed into her, sighed at the sign of permission that she’d given him.
The room lit up briefly as lightning danced across the sky outside, touching on the all the edges of the furniture and making Darcy’s pale skin shine as Steve looked down at her, marvelling at the round of her breasts and the curve of her waist as it dipped in and then flared out towards her hips.
He tilted her chin up, two fingers delicate against her skin and bent his head to hers.
The door downstairs crashed open in a storm of swearing obscured only slightly by the whirl of wind that took the door and clattered it repeatedly against the stone wall. Steve jerked back from Darcy, his eyes opening in alarm at the noise. She tightened her grip on him in alarm, and looked up at him askance.
“Wait-” He fought to catch his breath as he spoke, mind still half in the gutter and one eye yearning towards the little bed beside her; forcing himself to clear his brain and switch back into being Captain America. “Wait here.” He said firmly, with a shake to his shoulders, setting his stance and reminding himself of the man he was supposed to be. Darcy nodded, and took a step back.
Steve stumbled his way down the steep set of wooden stairs, throwing himself around the sharp turn midway and practically fell into the living room. Shrugging off a soaking jacket and cursing loudly, in multiple languages about the weather, was Bucky. Steve felt his shoulders relax at the sight of him, but also fought the urge to curse out loud himself. Almost any other time he would have been overjoyed to see the other man. Right this moment, he was tempted to push him straight back out the door into the storm and let him fend for himself.
“Hey pal,” Steve said cautiously, swallowing the litany of names he was subconsciously - and perhaps somewhat unfairly - calling his friend and padding across the threadbare rug towards Bucky. “Thought the weather would have been too bad for the extraction tonight?”
“Please. I can land that jet in the middle of a twister if I needed to.” Bucky scoffed throwing the tac jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and turning to Steve; running a hand through his sopping wet hair as he did so. “And I couldn’t spend another damn minute with Stark, tropical island or no.”
“So we’re leaving now, then?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. Bucky shook his head like a dog, sending water flying, then fixed him with a scowl.
“I said I could land the jet. Taking off is an entirely different matter.”
“There’s only two bedrooms. Small ones.” Steve wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. Bucky would obviously have to stay in the house. Unless he slept on the jet. The jet had bunks. Bucky could definitely sleep on the jet if he wanted. It would probably be more comfortable. Maybe Bucky would want to sleep on the jet.
“I'll sleep on the couch.” Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, shouldering his way past Steve towards the fridge and yanking the door open.
“It's, uh, out of commission.” Steve looked over at the couch, now sagging slightly in the middle where the bucket was approaching half full and a steady drip still splashing into the depths.
“Why, what have you done to it?” Bucky said without looking back, head buried in the fridge. The noises emanating from it suggested he was already eating, although a free hand was reaching blindly towards the cupboards and searching for a plate.
“Nothing. Provided you like swimming.”
Steve started slightly as Darcy’s voice appeared from behind him, turned on his heel and watched as she descended the last few steps into the living room. Her hair was still damp, but she’d thrown on an old t-shirt and some shorts. He told himself that he was happy about that, but something inside him growled low, remembering her wet skin glinting in the moonlight and the miles of pale leg ending in black panties as she’d looked back at him defiantly.
Bucky was still rifling through the fridge, not looking back, and the girl silently crossed behind him and pulled out a clean plate from a cupboard, passing it over to him without comment as she switched on the kettle. The dark-haired man loaded up the plate and finally kicked shut the fridge door, dropping into a stool at the kitchen counter and tearing into a cold chicken leg like he’d not seen food in weeks.
Steve hadn’t known it was possible to be jealous of a single interaction, but the ease with which Darcy had edged her way around Bucky, the hand on his hip as she moved around him and the simple movement he’d made when she’d touched him to allow her to pass, all without really looking at each other, burned him to the core. He blinked, trying to wish the feeling away.
Speaking around the food in his mouth, hunkered over the plate, Bucky said “Looks like I’m kipping in with you, Stevie.” He chewed thoughtfully on the chicken leg whilst casting a sly glance over at Darcy, now sat opposite him, her loose shorts riding up her thighs. “Unless Lewis would like some company. I can be awful friendly at night.” He winked at her, and Steve felt his fingers curl into a fist at his side unwittingly.
Darcy, for her part, rolled her eyes at him and stole a chicken leg off his plate.
“You’re on the floor, pal.” Steve forced the words out, watching the pair of them look at each other over the kitchen counter and not being able to judge what it was that seemed to pass between them. “I’m not giving up my bed for nobody.”
“I’m wounded, Rogers.” Bucky started on the cheese, grinning easily back at him, happier now that there was food. “Your oldest buddy, the guy who’s risked his life to set down a plane in the midst of a storm for ya, and you’d not even give up your bed for one measly night.”
“You’ll like it better on the floor.” Steve promised. “The bed sags in the middle. You hate that.”
Rolling onto his back in the uncomfortable single bed - which did sag in the middle, as Steve Rogers was many things but never a liar - for what he sincerely hoped was the last time that week, Steve reflected that it had been a long time since he’d shared a room with Bucky. So long, in fact, that he’d forgotten how annoying the other man was whilst sleeping. James Buchanan Barnes was a man who could fall asleep standing up, if the occasion called for it, and so as soon as he’d hit the floor he’d been gone. Unfortunately what came with that was his snoring.
Steve grit his teeth and laced his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. In fairness to the other man and, as irritating as the constant drone he was making undoubtedly was, Steve would probably still have been awake regardless. Every time he shut his eyes, the memory of Darcy, all pale skin and lacy bra, flashed across the inside of his eyelids. He wasn’t complaining specifically, as it was hardly an awful image to have stuck in his head, but to say it was frustrating was an understatement.
Bucky snorted and rubbed at his nose in his sleep, rolling onto his back and spread-eagling himself over the floor. Steve considered the possibilities around smothering his friend with a pillow, then ultimately decided against it. Darcy couldn’t fly the jet at all, and Steve wasn’t skilled enough to take them up if the weather persisted. Bucky would have to stay.
He was, however, going to be driven out of his mind if he had to listen to one more second of Bucky snoring and grunting in his sleep. Steve pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed, tiptoeing across the floor and delicately over Bucky’s slumbering body. Maybe the couch had dried out by now.
Steve made his way downstairs as quietly as he was able to shift his bulk. He remembered - just, foot hovering over it as the memory came back to him - to avoid the squeaky step in the middle of the staircase, and emerged into the living room. Darcy was already sat at the kitchen counter, sipping at a cup of tea. She was still wearing the t-shirt from earlier, but appeared to have discarded the shorts. Steve worked hard to keep his eyes on her face.
“Rogers.” She nodded briefly, head turning back to the mug in her hands, blowing on the hot liquid with pursed lips. He leaned on the edge of the counter, as close to her as he dare be. She looked back at him and tilted her head to one side. “Can’t sleep?”
“Bucky snores.” He said heavily.
“Cardinal sin.” She laughed softly, shaking her head and taking another sip before putting it down and speaking again. “And here I thought you’d come to finish what you started earlier. Didn’t figure you for a quitter, Steve.” He didn’t miss the quirk of her eyebrow that told him she was playing with him, a tease that pulled at the basest part of his soul. Steve Rogers never backed down from a challenge.
Steve moved behind her, put one hand to the counter around her and brought the other to her neck, brushing the mass of dark curls to one side and leaving her bare under the moonlight for him. He bent his head and breathed in, closing his eyes as the scent of her filled his nose. Sweet, floral, clean. Darcy shivered slightly under his breath, gooseflesh popping up and he brushed his lips lightly over her, starting at the expanse of shoulder laid bare by the wide collar of her t-shirt.
He ran his lips, touching her just enough, from the curve of her shoulder, up the edge of her neck, skirting over the tendons that lay taut under her skin as she tilted her head to give him more access. There, his tongue darted out and traced the line of it, up and up until his lips closed together again in a soft kiss just behind her ear.
Darcy let out a soft sigh and rolled her head back against his chest. Steve smiled against her, lips pressing more and more kisses into her soft skin, and his free hand curling around her waist as he did so. Edging up, and up, until he was cupping a breast and realising with a groan and an involuntary snap of his hips against her from behind, that pretty little Darcy was not wearing a bra. His kisses stuttered slightly against her, and she brought a hand up to cover his briefly before nudging him away and tugging up the edge of her t-shirt until she had it pulled up to her collarbone.
She found his hand again and brought him up to feel against the curve of her breast, now free and bared to the night air. Her nipple hardened and he squeezed gently, feeling her respond with a moan low in her throat and her ass pressing back against his crotch. He continued to touch her, glancing over her nipple and teasing it harder, feeling her back arch and her lips find the underside of his chin. Steve’s cock jerked wildly in his sweatpants, and he slipped his other hand from her hair down to adjust himself, indulging in a quick stroke or two as his teeth grazed over her shoulder.
She span on the stool to face him, and he leaned forwards, putting his arms either side of her and caging her against the counter. Darcy rolled her head back on her shoulders and gazed up at him. Steve bent his head and breathed out slowly, his lips just apart from hers, and desperate to taste her. He closed his eyes, fighting to control the thrum of his blood in his veins.
That all went to shit when she pressed her lips to his.
Steve groaned and put a hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer to him and opening his mouth. Darcy slid her tongue in eagerly and he responded in kind. Steve pushed her legs open, nestling himself between them and groaning into her mouth as she ran her hands over his chest. Darcy’s clever tongue danced along the edge of his, darting and teasing and driving him wild as he closed his mouth over hers and gave as good as he got.
Her fingers found the edge of his waistband, slipped the tips under it and ran along hip to hip, drawing from him a growl that he could feel made her smile even as she kissed him hard. Suddenly her hand dipped under and was grasping at him. He’d been hard already, semi-hard really from the moment he’d stumbled sleepily into the room and seen the flash of bare thigh as she sat at the counter, if he was being honest with himself, but now he stood to attention under her hand like he was saluting it.
Darcy continued to kiss him whilst her hand began to move, slow, languid strokes that slipped along his shaft until she was tickling against his groin, then pulled back up until she could glance her thumb lightly over his head, dancing in the slick that was gathering there. Steve thought there was a real good chance he might just explode right there in his pants, her hand gripped tight around him and her kisses urgent in a way her fingers were not, and forced himself into recalling the appropriate way to strip down Springfield rifle in an effort not to embarrass himself.
“C’mere.” He said roughly, and pulled her off the chair, pulled her up against him by cupping her ass and lifting easily. Darcy’s hand slipped from his pants and the waistband snapped back against the flat of his stomach, low on his hips. He moved forward and sat himself on the stool instead, balanced her over his thighs and rocked his hips upwards. Darcy let out a small moan that he covered with his mouth and wriggled against him, her arms finding their way to his shoulders and locking around his neck. Steve swore softly under his breath as he felt himself, hard and hot, nudge up against her, and she giggled before capturing his mouth again.
He pulled her forward, balancing her just so, the new angle letting him pull aside her panties and go exploring. The heat and slick that he found there had him cursing and biting at her neck as he slid his fingers across her and then upwards. Darcy shuddered in response and rolled herself against him, pushing into his chest and her breasts jostling as they squeezed together. Steve was torn between kissing her over and over, claiming her mouth just as his fingers were slipping up inside her, and pulling back to watch the look on her face as he crooked and pushed and twisted.
He compromised by alternating between the two.
Darcy made, he decided, the most delightful expression when he twisted his fingers like - that. The brunette cried out softly against him, dropping her head but still rolling her hips, and then he could feel light kisses against his shoulder, before she tugged aside the collar of his shirt to press her lips against his bare skin instead.
He twisted his fingers within her, finding a new and interesting angle that drew from her a cry that he had to kiss away, lips covering hers until she stopped shaking. He stroked up within her and pulled back, his forehead damp against hers, sweat beading and rolling across his temple. “Ssssh, pretty girl,” He whispered, running his tongue along her lower lip in between words. “Can’t wake Bucky.”
“Let him hear.” She mumbled, uncaring, with a jerk of her hips that forced his fingers further inside her. Steve, not a man who was slow at taking a hint in the bedroom, pushed upwards firmly and crooked them back towards himself in a move that made her eyes close and her hands fist in his shirt.
“Nuh-uh,” He said, moving his mouth to the curve of her ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth, teasing against her as she ground down against him. “He’d only want to join in. I don’t like to share.” Steve pushed his thumb upwards, sliding through the slick of her until he was glancing over a place that had her cursing and praising him in the same breath. He laughed, pleased with himself.
“How’d you know if you haven’t tried?”
“Darce-” He mumbled into her shoulder, her words delivered low and teasing over his ear once she’d recovered enough of herself from what he’d been doing to speak. Steve’s thoughts took a turn to a particularly dark path of desire and growled from the back of his throat. He fumbled his lips back to hers, feeling his sweats tent uncomfortably as she rocked against his hand, knuckles deep and thrusting hard now. He could feel her, squeezing over his fingers, urging him on for more and the wet slide as he moved within her had his cock jutting up and straining hard against his pants. The way she was sat over him, legs wide and stretching her open for him, found the head of his cock nudging up against where his fingers were buried inside her.
She shifted in his lap, and Steve huffed a panting, desire-ridden breath against her shoulder as he realised she was trying to adjust herself onto his cock even as he jackhammered his way up into her with three fingers now impossibly fighting for space.
“I need you, Steve,” She said into his ear, panting hard. “Please-” He didn’t let her finish before he tugged his fingers from her with one last twist that had her jerking against him, and was sliding home, sweats pulled down just far enough to let his cock spring free and pushing up into her like she was the only thing that mattered. He braced himself against the stool, ankles hooked around the legs to give him some purchase and thrusting up with his hips, one arm gripping the counter and the other wrapped firmly around her waist.
Darcy let out a soundless scream, mouth falling open and eyes closing as he angled up again and again, bouncing her on his cock, and bent her backwards over the counter. She spread her legs as wide as she could, balancing them over his broad thighs, and he used the edge of the counter to keep her secure as he thrust, one arm carefully wrapped around her and between her back and the edge of it. Her breasts moved in front of him, and he couldn’t resist but to push her t-shirt up again and then mouth at them. He teased her nipples into hard peaks, first one and then the other, running his tongue lightly across each until she was panting hard and grinding over him.
His right arm gripped at her tighter, drawing her ever closer and pushing her firmly down even as his hips snapped upwards. Her collarbone was sweat-slick against him, and his tongue caught the droplets as they appeared, grinning against her bare skin as she clenched around him.
“Fuck, Darcy-” He grunted against her, trying to keep his voice low even as she started to moan around him. He captured her lips with his own, swallowing down the noises she was making and vowing to himself that he would move heaven and earth to get her into his bed back at base where he could make her scream around him and not care.
“Steve, just, just, there-” He complied, snapping upwards and feeling her come around his cock with a shudder and a moan that left her boneless in his arms. Steve, grinning, continuing to move, still hard and chasing his own end. Darcy brought her mouth to the base of his throat and kissed him, tongue starting in the cleft of his collarbone and making its way up until she found his mouth and lost herself there.
Steve kissed her again, hard, as she answered him, and lifted her up, lifted her off his straining cock, so eager to still be inside her. Holding her easily to his chest with one hand, he tugged at himself, feeling the slide of Darcy coating him and biting her shoulder as he did so. He turned her gently, bending her forwards over the counter and arranging her until she was perfectly lined up in front of him.
Steve caught his breath slightly as he ran a hand over the curve of her ass, and pulled her panties to one side again, allowing him access. He took his time, delighting in frustrating himself as he slid his cock through her but not yet into her, teasing himself with the wet slip and the way his cock leaked in anticipation. Darcy wriggled her hips as he moved, and he wondered if he could make her come again.
“Captain,” Her voice was low and his hips stuttered against her, cock still nestled within her slick. “Take me already.” Steve huffed out a laugh and pushed into her slowly, hands on her hips and pulling her back to meet him. He couldn’t help but let out a low groan as she came flush against him, and his cock jerked inside her in agreement.
“Harder, Steve,” Darcy demanded in a whisper, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and turning her head awkwardly to look back at him. “Hard as you can go.” He raised an eyebrow, running a hand over the small of her back where her t-shirt had ridden up, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to push his limits that far. Darcy pushed back against him, hips slamming back and he grasped at her, getting the message.
Steve fucked forward, a hard drive of his hips that pushed her forward over the counter and she slapped a palm down against it and groaned under her breath. He was pretty sure he caught some curse on her lips, shortly followed by his name, but he’d begun driving into her and whatever she’d said was lost. He had one hand flat on her back and the other tight on her hips as he pounded forward, his thighs slapping against hers and biting his lip hard as she pushed back on each thrust as much as she could.
“Darcy, Darcy,” He whispered, pulling her back slightly so that there was some space between her and the counter. He moved his hand from her hip and reached down, rubbing against her in time with his cock thrusting into her, relentless and gaining speed as he started to feel a tension build in the pit of his stomach. Darcy bucked back against him, his fingers sliding over her, feeling the base of his cock every so often as she bounced on it, and him pounding his way into her still, hot and wet and tight until she was keening into the counter, dropping her head against it and shuddering around him for the second time that night.
Steve, groaning, could hold himself back no longer and emptied into her, letting himself fall forward as his cock spluttered within Darcy. Panting heavily, he stilled within her, hand dropping from between her legs and moving back to her hip, the other brushing her hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her tenderly.
He pulled her into his arms, her head falling onto his shoulder and sleepily kissing whatever she could reach. Steve dropped a soft kiss onto her forehead, tenderly brushing back loose tendrils of hair and tucking them behind her ear. He twisted her legs around and scooped up under the back of her knees until he was cradling her comfortably against his chest. She looked up at him and drew a lazy finger across the open neck of his shirt, teasing along his bare chest.
“C’mon, you,” He breathed, another kiss left on her forehead between words. “Bedtime.”
He carried her easily up the stairs, and, toeing her bedroom door open carefully with one foot, laid her in her own single bed before pulling the covers up and tucking her in, dropping another kiss to her forehead as he did so. Darcy rolled onto her back and eyed him, letting her gaze drag from his feet to his rucked up shirt and dishevelled hair. Steve could do nothing but grin back at her, hand going to the back of his neck and massaging the tendons there as he returned her look.
Tearing himself away from her, lest he try to fit on the same bed, Steve made his way carefully across the landing to his bedroom, treading silently as a cat in the night, and stepped over the sleeping form of his best friend before dropping himself into his own bed with a quiet groan and a sleepy smile that stretched from one side of his face to the other.
“You're a dog, Rogers.” Bucky said from the floor, not opening his eyes. “I have to eat off that counter tomorrow.”