Fate Has Brought Your Heart To Me
A/N: I might add more to this. I'm not sure yet.
xXx
The only proofs that Steve is still breathing are the occasionally harsh wheezes that wrack his boney chest. It's January and Pneumonia has hit his frail body hard, once again. James thinks tonight might be his last, and an overwhelming fear erupts through his chest condensing moisture in his eyes. He lays on the floor, on the old mattress they found out back, and he prays. He prays for his best friend. He prays for the boy who has so much to offer, who deserves to become a man.
He prays with all his heart, to any deity who will listen.
"Your love for him is so pure." A voice whispers through the dark. It seems too loud compared to the stark silence that permeated before.
James sits up, looking over to the bed where Steve is curled up tight, trying to keep warm. He does not stir as James moves around. Another warning sign that plagues his mind.
"Your thoughts are plagued with grief." The voice whispers again and James startles this time, the whisper so close he can feel the rush of breath.
"Who's there?" James whispers back into the darkness. It seems so much darker than before. Darker than it should be. He realizes, belatedly, that the street lamps outside aren't lit like they were when he went to bed.
"Me." The voice is feminine, he's fairly certain.
"Me who?" He feels ridiculous all of a sudden and when there's no immediate response he lays back down, determined to put his worries from his mind.
He's just gotten comfortable when he feels the mattress shift beside him. He assumes it's Steve, desperate for any kind of warmth.
"Stevie, the bed is better for you." He mumbles but there's no response. So he opens his eyes and bites back his immediate response.
The woman lying next to him is everything out of his wildest dreams. Curves and lips and gorgeous eyes. She's stunning.
"Who are you?" He asks, frozen in place.
"Me." She smiles, her teeth perfectly white and straight. Her long brown hair is laid around her like a halo, highlighting her soft cheek bones and warm smile.
"How did you get in here?" He asks, though he thinks that's probably not the most pressing question at the moment.
"You invited me." She tells him. Before he can reply she continues; "I heard your prayers James Barnes. They were so desperate, I couldn't ignore them."
"Are you an angel?" He questions in awe. She's exactly what his mortal mind would conjure as an angel.
"The Angels can't help you, James, but I can." She says with a smile that disarms him of all logic. "I want to help you."
"How, how can you help me?" He asks and he's vaguely aware of the frantic note in his voice.
"Your worried your friend won't make it through the night. You should be very worried. He is not well, I can feel his life force waning as we speak." She explains.
Panic floods his veins and he tries to sit up, only to find his body won't move.
"Do not panic, James, I can help him. For a price."
"Anything, name it. I'll give you anything." He tells her franticly, his eyes looking toward the bed where the slight form of Steve Rogers sleeps on, slowly dying.
James feels the room shift and realizes she's rolled him into his back, hovering over him with her legs on either side of his hips.
"I want you, James Buchanan Barnes." She tells him, almost sweetly.
"Anything. Anything you want." He answers without hesitation.
She smiles. "Deal." She whispers.
There's a burning in his chest that is not entirely unpleasant. It rolls to fruition before slowly ebbing away.
"Is that it?" He asks when it's over.
"No, that was merely the contract. Now we must work quickly, he does not have a lot of time before he is beyond even my reach."
"What do I do?"
"We must make a connection, James. You already have a connection to Steven, now you must forge one with me and with it, I will give him your strength."
"How do we do that?" He asks but he's fairly certain he already knows the answer. James is eighteen, he's fully aware of what this appears to be leading to.
She smiles at him and it goes a long way in calming him as her fingers trail along the exposed skin of his neck. He shivers at the contact. She runs her hands down his chest and up under his thermal shirt, lifting it along the defined muscles and exposing him to the cold of the room. He finds himself able to move again, but only slightly, as he lifts up for her to pull it off. She remains leaning over him, planting the softest kisses along his jaw.
"Tell me when you can see the strings." she whispers as she pulls back, shifting her weight off of him long enough to rid him of his long johns. He's confused by the statement but he doesn't question her, not as her hands move deftly about him, muting his inner conscious as he stands at attention for her.
James is only able to move his head, he finds, but slowly, lazily. He is not alert, not even slightly. He feels as though this is all a dream and he thinks he may close his eyes and let Morpheus take him, but then the most intense pleasure rears up with in him and he is gasping with it's intensity. He finds her down his body, his cock deep in her throat and he gasps and groans at the sight. She pulls back to the tip and wraps a hand around him, grinning up at him as he collapses back against his pillow. He curses as she continues her onslaught a pressure rising in the pit of his stomach.
He opens his eyes to look down at her again, certain the mere sight of her will push him over the edge he craves, but his attentions are diverted elsewhere. Steve is still asleep on the bed, his body still curled up tightly, but it's what he sees trailing from his body that startles him.
"I see them." he whispers, not entirely sure when he made the decision to speak. The woman stops, but the pleasure does not fade. She crawls up his body, laying flat against him, nibbling at his jaw.
"Those are the strings of fate." she tells him, taking his hand and guiding him to touch the glowing red yarn that extends from his body to Steve's. He touches it for only a moment, pulling back as the emotions overwhelm him. "Fate has ordained that Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes will be forever linked. Not even death will sever your bond." she explains. "Now you must forge a bond with me, so that I may manipulate your bond with Steven and give him your strength through it."
James looks up at her, finally able to tear his eyes from Steve. He's not too proud to hide the tears that build there. "Please, whatever you have to do. Please save him. Take everything if you have to, just please…" he cuts himself off, holding back a sob. "Just don't let him die."
She hushes him as she leans over him again, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Calm yourself James, fate has brought me to you because he was not meant to die this night. There is too much for him, for you, to do in this world."
She does not give him a warning as she slides him inside of her. The emotions that overwhelm him are stamped down as pleasure returns to the forefront of his mind in full force. She rides him with slow, undulating movements and James thinks that this may be what all the poets meant by "making love". As the emotion builds between them a new string begins to form, starting from him and trailing upward. When it finally attaches, the world ceases to exist for just that moment. The pleasure explodes inside him, ripping though his body in a way he's never felt before. There's a roaring rush of sound in his ears and he realizes its his own heart beat, the blood pumping through him as adrenaline surges forward.
And then it stops; abruptly and without warning. Silence envelopes him once again and in the darkness he feels it. The strong, steady flutter of Steve's heart. He doesn't know how he knows it's Steve, he just does. The steady beating rhythm, soothes him and he closes his eyes to savor it. He's never heard Steve's heart beat so steadily before.
"It's because of you." her voice filters into his thoughts. He can't open his eyes, he can't move his body, but he's not afraid.
"Thank you." he thinks. "Thank you for helping him."
He feels her hum more than he hears it and then the weight of her against him begins to lessen.
"Wait!" he thinks in what he assumes is the closest to panis he will get at this moment. "I don't even know your name."
She doesn't answer him, at least not right away. He's given up on an answer as he gives in to sleep. It is on the last vestiges of consciousness that he hears her reply.
"You may call me Darcy."