Darcy prided herself on knowing how to plan a decent surprise. She tailored presents down to the ideal presentation.
She knew that tonight Steve was meant to return from his mission, and she anticipated him to be whole he always was when he came back from a successful mission – happy and horny.
The combination was endearing and his enthusiasm always surprised her since she still thought of him as being bone (pun intended?) tired after every work trip.
Their little love nest – Darcy's apartment in Queens – was that romantic most of the time. No matter what he did, Steve's sworn enemy the cockroaches (that liked to live under the fridge) always came back. The shower pressure was questionable. Occasionally one of Darcy's neighbors cooked fish in their place and the rest of the building stank for days.
But when Darcy woke in the mornings with the light streaming in through the crack in the curtains, the dust motes spinning, she'd look over at Steve's sleeping naked form and want to recite Keats or at least roll Steve onto his back and kiss every inch of his skin.
One night after the monster of the week exploded on live television in Chicago, its purple guts spraying all over spectators and Avengers alike, Darcy already planned to greet Steve in a new all red outfit.
However, she dozed off before he got to her. She didn't hold it against him.
She stirred as she approached the bed, hand going to her leg and sliding up to her waist.
His gaze roved her curves, admiring the way the garter-belt lay taught against her skin, the way the red made her skin look almost white in the candlelight.
He kicked off his boots, and Darcy's eyes opened.
"Oh, hey, you," she said, smiling at him, her words slurred with sleepiness.
"You know you got lit candles all around the bed?" Steve said, laying down beside her with his fingers splayed across the small of her back.
The new bra pushed her cleavage together and up like the sauciest of dreams Steve used to have of Darcy before he got his head out of his ass and finally asked her out last year.
"There's an ambience," Darcy explained, her grin widening, and Steve could see the gap in her teeth.
She did not seem perturbed by the dangers of a house fire. Steve thought that was typical Darcy.
"Word of the day?" Steve said, eyebrow quirking.
He couldn't decide what to do with his hands, he wanted them everywhere.
"No, today's word is a little more base than ambience," Darcy said, leaning into him, and Steve noticed the red gloves she wore, which looked like they were made up of fishnet stockings.
"What? What is it?"
He felt the fishnet material reach his neck and glide into his hair, tugging him to Darcy, crushing his lips into hers. Their mouths opened, Darcy's tongue sweeping into his mouth, making him gasp despite this being one of a thousand kisses between them.
Every time she deepened a touch or a stroke, it made him melt. Or, more accurately, made him hard as a brick.
Steve reached lower to grab a handful of her ass, and she drew back from his lips, chuckling.
"Well done, Captain. It's derriere."
Steve couldn't help laughing along with her. "Still French. But you don't want me griming you up, doll. Alien goo all over me still. And I'm sweaty."
Darcy tilted her head. "I don't see you pulling away."
Steve knew for a fact that he'd just picked some purple goo out of his hair earlier.
But Darcy was right – he showed no signs of pulling away from her, and they both knew the length of his dick could be seen, straining against the material of his combat suit pants.
Very little had to be done to Steve for him to want to bury himself inside her. The lingerie and fishnet gloves were just a perk.
"You sure you got the energy?" he said, beginning to kiss the side of her face, then down her neck. "You were sound asleep just now."
"Hmm," Darcy agreed, sighing as he moved up to the space behind her ear.
Her fingers dug into his scalp, making Steve tingle and want to nibble.
"Would you settle for a quickie?" she whispered, and Steve drew back.
"Sounds good to me."
The way he kissed her now – he knew she would become breathless and lightheaded, but he always meant to reach that. There were times he had been gentle and slow, before Darcy promptly shoved a foot against his ass the first time he was inside her for him to take the hint and completely wreck her.
He rolled them so he was on top of her, kissing down her chest to the bright red of her bra, mouthing at the material where he could just make out her hard nipples beneath, his breath becoming a ragged pant once he pushed aside the full cup that covered her.
Her furled nipple stood out against her pale skin, and Steve nipped at it, before rolling it and sucking.
If she could purr, Darcy would by then, and instead her hips rolled with each hard suck, his free hand finding her other nipple to roll between his finger and thumb.
He did this for some time, knowing it always got Darcy's motor running, until he felt her hands fall to his head, trying to pull him back up to her face.
"Thought I said a quickie," she whispered, kissing him with her eyes still open, and he gave a little smirk.
"Don't tend to do as I'm told," he replied, his tongue darting out for a second to lick her top lip, the same tongue that made her nipples wet and shining in the dim candlelight.
"Yeah, funny how people think Captain America is some law abiding citizen when we all know that Steve Rogers is just a dirty little troublemaker."
His eyebrows hiked at her remark. "Dirty?"
"What, suddenly the idea of me taking your cock – "
Steve's hips bucked for a second at her choice of words, as he groaned low in his throat, his crotch bumping hers.
"- seems too tawdry to your innocent ears?"
He kissed her with more force than before, biting her lips and licking the sides of her mouth, hands going down her hip and tugging at the satin panties she adorned.
Darcy lifted her hips to allow Steve to pull them off her, tossing them aside.
He moved back onto his knees, fingers moving over the fastenings of his combat gear. This would be so much easier if he was in civilian clothing, but something about the look on Darcy's face watching him hastily work himself out of his clothes, her legs apart for him with her eyes hooded and shining – the moment was almost worth the trouble.
Naked, he moved back, tugging her down the mattress.
"What are you going to do to me?" she whispered, and he lined them up, the tip of his cock barely dipping between the flush lips of her cunt, making her bite her lip in anticipation.
"What you want me to do."
He pushed inside, the slick feel of her tight heat so sweet he closed his eyes, pressing his head to her shoulder for a second to gather himself, her legs wrapping around his waist.
He moved his head up to look her in the eye once more, her eyes so big and bright up close he could get lost in them.
"I'm gonna make a fucking mess of you," he breathed, and Darcy bit her lip, nodding.
"Jesus, Steve," she whispered.
Every time he was inside her, it still made him catch his breath. Every time he woke up beside her, it was like starting over again, wanting to win her, trap Darcy in his grasp.
He began to move, barely giving her a chance to gather her thoughts, her little moans escaping in time to the buck of his hips.
"I – I – shit!"
It was like increasing the sweet pleasure by mere degrees at a time, reaching to the point where Steve felt the tugging beneath his navel, the slipperiness of Darcy's tight sheath all around him.
Her sounds grew more desperate, her hands moving from his hair to between her legs.
Steve was faster, pulling back the skin and pressing down on her clit with his thumb, and Darcy's eyes grew wider.
"Right there, baby," she hissed.
She was pink and red all over, sweat gathering on her milky skin, her cunt tightening up.
Darcy's whole body tensed, and Steve felt her clench around his cock, as she let out an unabashed cry of pleasure, making his balls tighter than ever –
"Fu-uck," he grunted, and felt himself crashing over the edge, spilling inside her.
They cleaned up, Darcy falling asleep on her back by the time he got out of the shower.
Her bra was still shucked down to her stomach, with one garter belt undone in their haste.
One red glove, the left one, was on the floor.
The right one remained, Darcy's hand lying out across to Steve's side of the bed.