Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: TEASE
In the end, the belt of his Cap uniform turns out to be useless.
It's too chunky to bind his hands with, the metal of the different compartments digging sharply into Steve's wrists. He's eager enough that he'll try it but Darcy isn't; She murmurs something about his safety and then presses two kisses to his wrists, the gesture surprisingly sweet when it comes from her. The kisses burning slightly against Steve's skin. For a moment he's nonplussed, not sure what he can do now that part of her plan is a wash; He supposes he should just be happy that she thought of him, that she's willing to work him through his… kink. But he obviously underestimates her, for Darcy's chutzpah is made from sterner stuff than that. As he watches she sidles closer until she's pressed right against him, her breasts flush against his chest. Her legs pressed against his as she steps onto his feet.
"Step back, soldier," she murmurs, her voice soft and low down and smoky.
Steve stumbles a couple of steps backwards, only halting when she tugs on his sleeve.
"Here's really, really good," she says, looking at him through lowered lashes. Jesus, she looks sinful. She chucks her chin up, indicating he look towards the ceiling; Steve does as he's told and realises he's standing directly under his punching bag's hook. His eyes must widen- he hadn't realised she'd planned this far ahead- and he hears her give a low, throaty chuckle.
"Better than mistletoe, soldier," she mutters, and Steve finds he has to agree.
Keeping steady eye contact she gazes at him then, her small hands reaching out and tugging at his leather pants belt. Sliding it free, this devilish, smoky grin on her face, her small, delicate nails scratching lightly at the skin underneath his shirt and marking the small of his back. Steve gasps at the sensation and her grin widens, hands slowly pulling the belt loose. She twines it between her hands and stretches it, stepping off his feet, turning her back to him as she picks up the bucket of soapy water and pulls it back towards his place beneath the punching-bag's hanging hook. Still maintaining eye contact she flattens one palm against his chest, the small, warm weight of it making his cock twitch. She presses the heel of her palm into his flesh and drags it downwards, down past his abdominals, his belly, down to press, hard and warm, against his groin- And his cock does more than twitch.
Steve groans and she smiles, reaching out for the buttons of his check shirt. She opens them slowly, torturously, folding the shirt back from his chest and shoulders as if she's opening a book. She presses it down his shoulders and lets it fall at his feet; her small hands tug his t-shirt and undershirt up, the white fabric bunching in her hands. As soon as he's free of it she drops it unceremoniously into the bucket of soapy water beside her. Steve opens his mouth to protest but she silences him with a kiss. One for his mouth, two for his eyelids. And then a stinging, hungry one as she takes his nipple between her teeth and tugs. Sucks.
"Do you trust me, soldier?" she mutters against his chest. "Do you?"
His heartbeat's hammering but he nods. Meets her eyes. "Yes, ma'am." He has to take a deep breath, he's running out of oxygen. "I do. I really, really do."
And suddenly her grin turns bright. Gorgeous. She grabs his left wrist and loops the belt around it, pulling it tight but with just enough give to not cut off his pulse. She kisses him again, her tongue sliding against his. It's sweet and tart and almost bitter, just like her, and it ties Steve's stomach into knots. And then she takes the belt and tosses the non-secured end upwards. It loops through the punch bag hook, the spare end hanging down on its other side and that she loops around Steve's other wrist. She pulls the belt and he's forced onto his tiptoes, his whole body stretching in order to stay upright; She ties the belt in a quick knot which she again makes sure is not too tight. Again he feels the press of her lips against his chest, again he feels the sting of that biting, tugging kiss at his nipple. His spine feels like it's stretching, his entire body taut.
"Can you stay like that for me, soldier?" she whispers.
She's buried her face in his chest.
He tugs experimentally but neither hook nor belt give an inch and he feels that same peacefulness settle into his bones. For something which should be so uncomfortable it feels so… restful. It feels like the most right thing in the world. "Yes ma'am, I can," he tells her.
He feels her smile widen against his skin.
"Good." She seems to breathe him in. "You can't and you tell me- You got that?" Her mouth has started sliding down towards his belly. "I don't wanna hurt you…"
Again he feels a twist of something he doesn't want to think about. His voice comes out a little sharper than he intended. "You can't hurt me, ma'am," he mutters, "I'm Captain frickin' America-"
She takes his chin and forces his face down to look at her, blue eyes suddenly grave. "Of course I can hurt you, Steve," she murmurs softly. A frown mars her features. "I just never, ever want to try." She seems nervous for the first time, and that voice inside his head that Steve's learning to recognise as his predilection snaps at him to fix it. Snaps at him to make everything okay- But he's honestly not sure how he can. "If it hurts, Darcy," he says instead, "I'll tell you. Don't worry- I know my limits. If something isn't right I'll tell you good and loud."
Some of the worry seems to go out of her. "You promise me, Steve?" she murmurs. She's gone back to licking and kissing his navel but he can still see the tension in her spine.
"I promise," he murmurs, and it's not only his position that makes his throat tight.
A wickedness moves into her gaze then, his assurance apparently enough for her. "I was hoping you'd say that, soldier," she mutters, her hands reaching up to scrape the small of his back again. He feels her nails dig in and he can't stop the hiss of pleasure he gives. She grins wickedly and tugs at his pants, exposing his hips, his belly. The hard, long length of his cock. Darcy's lips are delicate on him, nuzzling into the hair at the base of his penis. She licks and kisses gently along his prick's length, her fingers playing with his balls.
"I've got such plan for you, soldier," she's murmuring, the vibration of her voice and breath along his length making his hips jerk uncontrollably. "Such terrible, wicked plans I have for you- Now I've got you all to myself." And she grins against his length, taking the very tip of his cock into her mouth, sucking it. One hand remains on his stones but the other has trailed up his thigh, the nails stroking gently to trace his perineum, the crack of his ass. Her fingers sliding higher to find another, puckered place there. Excitement building in Steve as she does it though why he cannot say. Again he feels her smile widen against his skin but she moves that hand away, goes back to caressing his thighs. His calves. His knees.
"Maybe another day," she murmurs, and there's longing in her tone.
"But soon though..?" he can hear his own question, his arousal matching hers.
"Oh, very, very soon," she murmurs. "Very, very soon."
And with that she stands up, moves away from him. Now that she's got him completely hard, now that he's practically aching for her, now she decides to bring a halt to their play. Jesus H. Christ. She walks over to the workbench at the back of the gym and shrugs off her shirt and jacket, leaving her only in vest and slacks. As Steve watches she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, unhurriedly slips her shoes and socks off and then pads barefoot back to him. By this time he's so hard he's practically shaking; If he were the kind of man who growls he'd be growling by now.
"Frustrated, soldier?" she asks and her tone is smugness personified.
Steve can't help himself, he has to say it. "I'm hard as a Goddamn steel bar, ma'am: What do you think?"
"I think you should have showered this morning, is what I think, soldier."
And she bends over the bucket of soapy water, picking up his vest and t-shirt. Makes a show of wringing them out tightly, the water sloshing back into the suds. "I think that maybe you need to cool down a little," she softly says. "Maybe that will improve your temperament." And she stands, the dripping shirts hanging from her hands, and pushes her knee between Steve's legs. It feels amazing, the pressure of her leg pressing against his cock. He closes his eyes, the pleasure getting to him. For a moment he can't even keep his feet on the ground and his body swings free. But then his toes find purchase, his movement ceasing. Darcy's grabbed him around the waist, managed to halt his fall. He opens his mouth to thank her but before he can do she brings the sodden t-shirt against his body. The slightly chilled, wet fabric makes contact with his heated, sweating skin and all Steve can do is gasp.
"That's my good soldier," he hears Darcy say. He can't even find the words to agree with her.
"Oh," she croons, "I'm going to take such good care of you."
And she gives a throaty chuckle, even as he feels the cloth move over him. Up and around by his shoulders it goes. Down his back, down his legs, water running in rivulets through the gaps between his toes, the dip of his shoulder-blades, the valley between the cheeks of his ass. And all the while Darcy's knee keeps up its slow, tortuous pace against his cock. Teasing him. Taunting him. Making him hard for her. Her control as total as Steve's is slipping, her body the only reality with which he's willing to deal. Dip and wring, press and slide. The t-shirt soaps his entire body, the soft cloth even stealing down to wash his straining, hardened cock. The texture of softness enough to nearly make him come then and there. And through it all he hears Darcy murmuring to him. Telling him what she wants from him. Telling him how good he feels under her hands, how perfect he's being for her. Steve knows that this is… well, this is pretty kinky. He might be a perverted romantic, but this is pretty wild and not only to him. But he hasn't it in him to care. He just… doesn't.
His trust in his girl is total and there's no way he's going to bring that to a halt.
And so he lets her tease him to orgasm, comes with a force he hadn't known he possessed. The feel of it shattering, even after all his months of frustration, even after finding release not once but twice in the last 24 hours. He feels Darcy hold him to her chest through it, looks down to see his cum staining her camisole. The sight of it, wet and sticky against her breasts, does something to him he hasn't the words to explain. And then she's cutting him down, his body hanging too loosely for her to get the belt off any other way. Without thinking he pulls her tight against him, holding her so strongly that for a moment he can't breath.
They collapse to the floor that way.
"Steve," he hears her mutter, "Um, Steve, oxygen becoming an issue…"
He immediately loosens his hold on her, presses a kiss against the top of her head. "That was…" he hasn't the words to say what that was.
"Awesome?" she asks him. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Amazing? So unbelievably dirty that we'll both have to accept we're going to Hell?"
"Perfect." That's the words he's looking for. Perfect.
If something involves Darcy it can't be anything else.
Red stains Darcy's face and suddenly she's fascinated with her shoes. Her arms cross her chest in the gesture he's starting to learn is discomfort for her, embarrassment making her uncharacteristically quiet. Steve's not sure what to do but he doesn't want her uncomfortable; Instead he reaches down and presses a quiet kiss to her cheek. Cuddles her a little tighter against his chest, there where he's put her between his knees. She turns slightly until she's pressed against his heart. It's so peaceful.
"Too much?" he mutters. Sometimes he gets carried away a little.
She looks slightly mortified. "Kinda."
"I'm just telling the truth, you know." And again he presses a kiss to her hair.
She tries for a cocky grin but it comes out shy. "So says you," she mutters. "I just- I guess I didn't expect this. I didn't expect how I feel when we do what we do." She murmurs the next bit. "I like it. I'm not- I'm not sure I wanna know why, but I like it." She blinks up at him. "I guess that makes us both pervs."
For a moment Steve's at a loss, that voice inside him which has thus far negotiated all his dealings with Darcy falling silent. Apparently his kink's not really sure how to deal with this, and it's making its ignorance known. Because if she's a perv too then he really is one; There's no way around it, this is who he is. But then he thinks about what she's done for him, what she might want. What she might be thinking of. He's fairly certain he doesn't know but he's willing at least to find out- It's the least he can do, to give his girl that. And with that in mind he manages to make his knees work again and scoops her up, carrying her towards his bathroom. He's grinning as he goes it because he wants to set her at her ease.
"Where are we going, Steve?" she asks, her eyes wide.
Steve can't help how his smile widens. "You took care of me, ma'am," he says diffidently. "Now it's time for me to take care of you."
And with that, the absolutely, romantically filthy portion of the evening commences-
Turns out Darcy's not the only one can improvise- Nor is she the only one who knows her way around a bucketful of suds.