Part Three


In Darcy's bed, they were little more than tangled limbs and heavy breathing and heat. She moaned into Steve's shoulder as he nuzzled her neck, kissing and nipping down to her clavicle. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, and the reality of what they were doing was really sinking in.

She still didn't understand why he was here - but, for the moment, that was okay. Three nights ago, she was meandering through the dimly lit streets of New York, searching for something, or nothing at all. But here, in her warm bed with Steve, it was like everything was finally clicking into place for her.

Not even twenty minutes ago, she made a superhero come in her mouth - her! - and that was too fucking awesome to be questioned. He wanted her, and for now, that was all she needed to know.

"Darcy," he mumbled into her skin, his voice thick and sensual. Even in the dark, his hair looked golden, like a perfect sunrise. She ran her hands through it again.

"Steve," she replied, softly. He kissed down her chest, mouth landing on an already-hardened nipple, tongue flicking and flicking. "Yes," she gasped. "Just - just like that."

He didn't warn her for the bite that came - it was almost too rough, but in that moment, it was exactly what she needed. She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, hips grinding against his; she could feel his cock, hard and pressing into her skin.

"Touch me," she panted, opening her eyes again. "Please." She grabbed his hand, guiding it toward her aching center, allowing herself to groan when his fingers finally reached her slick folds. She had never in her life felt so ready to be fucked.

She let go of his hand for a moment, letting him explore her. Every touch sent jolts through her; hot, delicious ones that made her gasp. His breathing was increasing again, hard and heavy through his mouth.

"It feels…" he started, seemingly unable to find words. Darcy guided his fingers toward her clit, moaning as she guided him in tight circles there.

"Do this," she said, intending to say more, but unable to speak as soon as the pleasure overcame her. There was something so intimate about showing him how to touch her. And Steve was a quick learner - it took no time at all for him to get her there, hanging right over the edge, and she grabbed his other hand, guiding a finger inside, then two.

"Oh my God," he whispered as she came.

Her orgasm ripped through her, possibly the strongest she'd ever felt. She was spiraling, thrusting her hips against Steve's hands with abandon, sounds in her ears so foreign it wasn't until after she had ridden every wave that she realized that they came from her. She was barely aware when he let go of her, removing his hands and laying down next to her. She could only breathe, her body humming from the aftermath.

"Jesus," Darcy whispered. She turned over to face him, looking at him with what felt like reverence on her face. Her breath caught when she realized that he was looking at her the exact same way.

"That was…good, for you?" he asked, but for the first time that night, she saw a ghost of a smirk on his face - a crack in the serious exterior. That thought struck her as funny for some reason, and she giggled unabashedly, rolling over on her back again, clutching her stomach.

"Fuck, Captain. Who knew you had it in you?"

"What's so funny?" he asked, but he was smiling for real now, actual playfulness within it, and then he was on top of her again, pressing his lips against hers.

That was enough to quiet her mirth, and she kissed him back enthusiastically. She was again reminded of his erection, still pressing against her, and the thought of again satisfying him like nobody had before brought her lust back afresh.

She broke the kiss, hands running down his back, stopping at his hips. "I want you inside me." She swallowed, uncertain. "If - if that's what you want, too."

His cock twitched, as if in answer. Gone was that playfulness from earlier, and in its place was darkness again. Swollen lips parted, and he said, "Yes. Please."

"I'm on birth control," she said, clutching his hips, unable to stop herself from grinding against him again. "And I'm, you know. Clean."

She assumed that Steve had gathered enough about this day and age to know what those things meant. He only nodded. "They told me…that I can't. Um, have children."

Her heart thudded in place, not sure what to say to that declaration. She did the only thing she could think of, and kissed him again, parting her lips and using her tongue to explore his mouth, his breath once again quickening as the kiss excited him further. Instinctively, she spread her legs, and without even thinking about it, lined him up with her entrance.

There was only a split second where he broke the kiss, looking at her, question in his eyes. She gripped him harder. In one quick motion, he pushed himself inside her, and the world stopped turning.

Inch by inch, he slid into her heat. And when he was in as deep as he could go, he exhaled against her, their eyes meeting. He didn't move for a split second, as if too overwhelmed by the sensation, or as if the gravity of what he was doing was finally hitting him. She wasn't sure. She grabbed his face, brushing her lips over his.

"You're…" Steve said, his voice like gravel. He thrust in and out of her, a tiny movement, as if testing himself; getting a feel for how to move within her. She could feel how very wet she was, and her head began to swim. It wasn't enough, but it was perfection, all at once.

"So…perfect. Wet. Tight. Like…" His hips met hers, over and over, each thrust harder and harder until Darcy was seeing stars. His words were crawling inside of her, deeper than his cock was, twisting around and around in her blood until it was singing a song she had never heard before but already couldn't bear for it to stop. "Like you were made for me. For this."

"I was," she breathed, moving with him now, not even sure what she was saying or agreeing to. She could feel the coil of another orgasm, just within reach, her clit slamming against his body as he dove into her like a starving man. "Don't stop, Steve. Please. Fuck -"

The pleasure of it all cut her off; she could only watch him. His eyes were hooded and dark, the blue long gone, with something viciously sexy in its place. And then he lowered his gaze to watch where they were joined, lips parted, skin hot beneath her hands where she was scratching him. She did not have to guide his hand to her aching clit this time. He did it all on his own, hands slightly shaky as he landed in the place where she had shown him, circles slightly broader than before due to the speed in which he was slamming into her, yet it didn't matter. That coil sprang, and Darcy split into pieces beneath him, clawing at his back, his name escaping her lips more times than she could recollect.

She had barely come to when she felt his shudder. He bit her shoulder, a blossom of pain sprouting from that spot, but it bloomed into something warm and carnal. He was gasping into her flesh, and he pulled her leg up over his shoulder for deeper access.

He was close. She could feel it in the way his skin was flushing, the heat of his lips on her, tongue stroking any spot he landed on. His free hand squeezed at her breast, and Darcy had never seen anything hotter than Steve falling apart above her in her entire life. She had done this to him. Her.

"That's it," she whispered, wanting this moment to last forever, but wanting even more to watch him come inside of her. "Fuck me like you own me. Come for me."

She didn't expect him to respond. But he opened his eyes, meeting hers, and then he said, "You are mine."

His words made her dizzy. And then he came, words escaping his mouth that she couldn't catch, whispers and gasps and she felt his hands practically squeezing her as he held her in place. She used her hips to milk him to the very end, and when he was done, he collapsed on top of her, catching his breath.

He was very quiet. Darcy patted at his head tentatively, as if uncertain what to do with herself. This was the part that she usually hated - in the past, she would generally jump up, make an excuse and escape to the bathroom. But not now. Darcy wanted to keep him here for as long as possible. She sighed against the side of his face, nuzzling against his scruff.

"Darcy," he mumbled, raising his head and looking at her. His lips were swollen red, his eyes tired and with the hint of a smile. He kissed her softly. She wondered if he was about to realize his terrible mistake and run off - she supposed she wouldn't be surprised or offended if he did. At least then she could say he left her life as quickly as he entered it.

"Are you okay, buddy?" she asked him, not unkindly. Remembering her first time, she flushed. It was nowhere near as fantastic as what just happened - she had bled all over the place and ruined the whole thing. At least, that's what her boyfriend had said.

"I'm…better than okay." He raised himself up off of her, and lay on his side next to her, fingers lightly brushing over her arm. She was cooling down now that the action was over, and his touch gave her goosebumps. "Darcy, I…thank you."

She didn't know what to say. 'You're welcome?' 'Thanks for the fuck?' 'Um, I'll treasure your virginity forever?' None of it felt right. Instead of answering, she got out of bed, realizing how sticky she felt now that the action was over. "I'll be right back, Captain."

In the bathroom, she cleaned herself up, and wet down a new washcloth for him. She stared at herself in the mirror, taking in her puffy lips, her smudged mascara, and her thoroughly fucked hair. She hadn't looked this alive in months. She hadn't felt this good in longer.

Back in the bed, she handed Steve the wet cloth.

"You're welcome, by the way," she said, causing him to still his hand. He looked at her questioningly. "For…this. And I should say, thank you as well."

After he was clean, she took the cloth and threw it in the general direction of her hamper. She lay down next to him, touching his shoulder, his arm. She wanted to savor this moment, to embed him perfectly in her memory. She knew that she might not get another chance with him. She wanted to make sure she would always remember the sleepy way he looked at her, the small curve of his mouth, his trussed-up hair.

"Your journal," he said randomly, after what felt like several moments of silence. Darcy stilled her fingers on his skin, as if afraid any movement would frighten him away. "You wrote about things in a way I'd never seen before. You wrote about…being owned, consumed, taken. Used."

Her own words, plucked from her journal and into Steve's mouth like that, made her blush.

"I did," she said finally, needing to fill the space between them with something. She suddenly felt very naked. Much more naked than flesh.

"I had never…of course, we talked about women. In the war." He swallowed, and looked at her, no trace of a smile left. Only lust. "We talked about sex. But this was like, like something out of a dream. That's how I felt. And it was like your words were talking to me. Asking me to do those things to you."

She imagined it then, in the dead of night, waking up to find his hand wrapped around her face, quieting her, his cock thick and greedy. What would it feel like to submit to him, to let him take what he wanted because that was what he needed, and what she needed, too? She remembered the way he had pulled her hair and bit her, just a little too rough. Her heart sped up, and she realized that this is what she saw in his eye the first time she met him that day they were standing outside of Stark Tower. It was his desire to conquest. His need to bend her will before his feet. He just didn't know it yet.

"I've never done any of those things I wrote about," Darcy said, finally. A confession. "They're fantasies. To get me…by."

"Is that what you want?" Steve asked her, reaching over to softly thumb her bottom lip. "Just to get by?"

"No. No, of course not." She hesitated, and then continued, forcing the vulnerability out of her voice. The uncertainty. "Tonight is the most alive I've felt in a long time. Not since Jane."

She was quite certain he knew about Jane. There was no way he didn't - she had it on good authority that most of the Avengers were on patrol at first, looking for them. Jane's research was too valuable to SHIELD for them to just let her go.

She remembered the look on Jane's face, right after they had arrested her. The look on Wilson's, too. That fucking bastard. He had liked it.

It was as if time had frozen in that moment - that moment when Jane was taken away, with Darcy standing there, unable to stop it, unable to control it. As if she had been living her life the last few months as scared as she felt that day. She had no control over what had happened, and she fucking hated it. It had driven her crazy with fear, with uncertainty and grief. To Darcy, a huge chunk of her walked out the door that day with Jane, in handcuffs. When the agents had shown up at her apartment on Main street that night, she hadn't even put up a fight. What SHIELD wanted, they took. It was as simple as that.

"Where'd you go?" Steve asked, breaking through her thoughts.

"Nowhere," Darcy whispered. She wanted to change the subject. She didn't want to think about Jane any more.

"Tony told me what happened that day. In his office."

She didn't answer. Instead, she slid her hand down his stomach, feeling the heat of it.

His hand clasped around her wrist, hard. The shock of it jarred her back to the present.

"He told me that SHIELD is giving up on your friend." His eyes bore into hers. Darcy nodded. "I want you to know that for as long as I'm around, I'll always look out for signs of her or Loki."

"Thank you, Steve." His words touched her, even though she knew he would never find them; Jane was not coming back. But the idea that he would be on the lookout when he was on the field warmed her, thawing the thickness around her heart.

"Anything for you," he said quietly. Anyone else, the words would have felt trite, fake. But she knew enough about Captain America to know that from him, they were genuine.

She wasn't sure when they had drifted off to sleep, holding each other close like something out of a Hallmark movie. But what she did know is that she had never slept better.


"Darcy?"

At the sound of her name, Darcy turned her head, hands stilling over the keyboard. Mike was standing next to her, and she had a miserable sense of deja-vu.

"Yeah?"

He shuffled in place. Ever since that day last week, he had largely been avoiding her. She wondered if Tony Stark had something to do with it, but then scoffed. Thinking about Tony would make her mad, and that would be such a waste of her good mood.

"There's uh, a Captain here to see you. Captain America, that is." He coughed, and darted away, not even giving her a chance to answer. Her heart quickened at his announcement, and she watched him go. Nobody else seemed to have heard him, and for a moment, she felt frozen in place.

Should she feel pity for Mike? She thought it was likely that in his entire three years, six months at Stark-Industries-turned-to-SHIELD, he had probably never even seen any of the Avengers in the flesh. And then Darcy came along, and all of a sudden, she was disrupting his quiet, productivity driven department.

There were more pressing matters to think about, anyway. She stood and quietly exited the floor, shutting the door behind her with a dim click. Steve was standing in the hall, full uniform, shield and all. Darcy swallowed, having never seen him dressed up like that before in person. He posed an intimidating presence; he could easily overcome her if he wanted. She tucked that thought away for future use and smiled.

"Thought I'd never see you again, Captain," she joked.

He smiled back, and she eyed him, remembering the way his face looked as he fucked her just two nights ago. She hadn't seen him since, but she hadn't been sweating it. She had been living as if in a daydream since that night, all soft and warm and content. It took the edge off the cold mornings as she rushed to the subway and the florescent lighting as she worked. She knew he'd be back eventually. And here he was.

"I got called away. I wanted to see you before I have to leave again."

His words left her feeling chilled. She was hoping he was here to make plans for tonight, not to tell her that he was leaving. She frowned.

"When will you be back?"

He stepped closer, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. His shield looked impossibly heavy, seemingly glinting malevolently at her.

"I'm not sure. There's an escaped -" he stopped himself, shook his head, and then started again. "I'm going to Cambodia. It shouldn't be longer than a few days. But I promise, as soon as I'm back…"

His unsaid words bore promises that heated Darcy. She smiled at him again, her face telling secrets of her own. His gaze hooded slightly, lips parting. She wasn't even sure he realized it.

"Just be ready," he said, finally. "For me."

Lust washed over her. She wondered what he had planned, what he was thinking. Steve looked uncertain, as if he was torn between ravishing her against the wall or walking away. He nodded once, and stepped forward, hesitating. He leaned down and kissed her chastely, the roughness of his uniform brushing against her sweater. She wanted more than this, but let him end the kiss.

"Whatever you want," she said, "I want that too."

He stood up straight and locked eyes with her one last time, and then turned around, hitting the button for the elevator that she had no clearance to go on. She watched the doors close on his face.

Her heart was hammering for too long after he was gone. His words left something searing within her, and she made herself take deep breaths before going back to work. It was going to be a long couple of days until he was in her bed again.


Darcy took her time heading home that evening. Without Steve to look forward to, she allowed herself to enjoy the crisp winter day. They were still calling for snow, but none had fallen yet. Eyes to the sky, she watched the heavy gray clouds churning haphazardly. Her nose burned from the chill.

She watched the buildings as she passed them, taking in the people milling about and the displays in the windows. She passed a loud, bustling restaurant, the smells of grilled meat and alcohol spilling onto the sidewalk; above it four stories up, an old man leaned out of his window, smoking a cigarette. He watched her pass and waved lazily as she stared.

The sidewalk was cracked in places, and in others where there was construction, she was ushered through clapboard, blocking the sky. The sounds of jackhammers and tires screeching and people shouting as they made their way to their destinations were almost overwhelming. Darcy realized that for the first time, she was aware of this city - this place where she lived. It was like a sentient being that she had only just now acknowledged.

It was beautiful, dirty, and fucked, all at once.

She made her way to her apartment, keying the lock and bounding up the stairs. She wasn't sure what was in her plans for the evening, but her fingers were itching to write. She thought of the brand new journal she had purchased the day before, crisp pages waiting for words. When she got to her front door, she stopped short.

It was cracked open. Her heart went into overdrive, everything in her head before that moment forgotten. She wondered if earlier, somehow, Steve was just putting on a show - that he wasn't going to Cambodia, and he was in there, waiting to back her into a corner, waiting to pounce, waiting to catch her off guard.

But it didn't seem right. If he wanted to catch her off guard, he wouldn't have left her front door open.

She should run. She should turn around and get the police. But something within her couldn't bear it. She was tired of being a scared little bitch - she wanted to take the control back. Steve had shown her how it felt to be alive again. Well, this was living, too. Facing your fear. Pepper spraying the fuck out of intruders in your apartment.

For the second time in so many days, she dug her pepper spray out of her bag, and used her foot to tentatively push the door open. It creaked unbearably loud, and she winced, stepping inside her living area, softly.

She was not alone, and it wasn't Steve. She dropped the can, her body shaking with fear and excitement and disbelief.

Jane was in her living room, putting a finger to her lips as if to quiet her.


Comments and thoughts appreciated!