Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine.
CHAPTER TWELVE: DIRTY
It's a strange thing to recount, but Steve's earliest memory is of a bath-tub.
He couldn't have been more than five or six, and his mom had been terrified to leave him alone in it. She'd asked him to make noise- never a problem- while she went outside to stoke up the fire and make sure the house was warm enough for her sickly little boy to be dried in. Steve can remember the exact sound of her humming, the weird, stark stench of the kerosene lamp she used. He can remember the smell of frying eggs-she must have been worried about him to use that amount of oil with money so tight- and the way the pan hissed and spit. But none of it really seemed to matter, because he was in the tub, a thimbleful of the ocean as his ma was fond of saying, and as far as he was concerned he was a pirate. Or maybe a jellyfish. Or maybe a sailor, like Uncle Seamus back in Dublin, or like Bobby Dumasco from down the hall. In the water, he could be anybody. In the water, he could be anything.
And in the water he always knew that somebody loved him. Cared about him. Wanted to take care of him.
He's never forgotten that feeling of being held in the arms of an ocean, and not even the plummet into darkness in the Valkyrie could take that away.
And maybe that's why he runs the bath for Darcy, he thinks now. Maybe that's why he lays her on his bed and wraps her in the coverlet. Presses a kiss to her forehead and then pads out to fill the tub. Because he wants her to know he'll take care of her. He wants her to understand that what they do together has… meaning, beyond pleasure and fun for the night. But more than anything else he wants her to know that he won't take advantage. That just because in the last 24 hours it's Darcy's who's been doing the heavy lifting, Darcy who's been licking and sucking and scheming about giving him pleasure, that doesn't mean that she won't get anything back. He's starting to accept that she likes what they do together; If she hadn't wanted to continue then that little scene back in his gym wouldn't have occurred at all. Lord, she wouldn't even have come up with it. But that doesn't mean that he gets a free pass, Steve knows that.
Thor said to treat her like a lady and that's precisely what he intends to do.
And a lady is treated with kindness and respect after she works so hard to give her soldier what he wants.
She looks up at him through her lashes as he walks in then, that cheeky, mischievous grin splitting her face. She appears to be recovering from their last bout because she's trying to sit up, looking around. She wriggling out of the coverlet- "I'm grossing up your sheets, soldier, you shoulda come somewhere else-" but he stills her with a hand on her shoulder. Stares at her and shakes his head, pressing her gently onto her back on the bed. "Not what you want?" she all but murmurs, her lashes fanning her cheeks now. Her eyes have turned practically navy, a darkness Steve now recognises as arousal clouding their depths. A grin tugs at her mouth. "You wanna dirty me up some more?"
The tone's playful but it sends a cold shiver through Steve. What they do together isn't dirty; He may not know much but he knows that. She frowns at his reaction and reaches out to touch his cheek. He covers her smaller hand with his larger one, feels the delicate bones of it in his grip. "Hey, hey, hey," she says softly, "What'd my big mouth land us in this time?"
He shakes his head. "Your big mouth didn't land us into anything, Darcy. I just…" He blows out a breath. "You're not dirty," he says softly. "We're- this- it isn't dirty."
He presses another kiss onto her forehead. "Do you understand that?"
And he pulls the hand at his cheek down to kiss her knuckles, not sure he's saying this right.
He suspects he still has no bloody idea how to talk to women and he doesn't want that to get in the way.
But Darcy's still frowning. "Steve- It's okay. You don't have to soft-pedal this." She reaches out to brush the hair out of his eyes. "We've only been making the beast with two backs a whole-" she makes a show of checking her watch- "26 hours, there's no need to start spouting poetry and treating me like I'm some little princess."
He can't hide his disbelieving look. "You are a princess."
"Fuck off!" she laughs, and despite the fact that he knows he should be shocked by the profanity isn't. Instead he has to laugh.
"Honest to goodness," he says, holding up two fingers in the traditional scouts' honour pose. Not that he was ever healthy enough as a kid to be a boy scout. "Thor told me- you're his extended family now. You're minor Asgardian royalty." He presses a kiss to her cheek, murmurs the next part. He doesn't want to yell it.
"And even if you weren't, you'd still deserve to be treated well."
But she's starting to wriggle now. Something he's said has upset her. "Look Steve," she begins, and innocent though he may be Steve knows her tone bodes no good, "I think maybe I should leave. This is- You're getting ridiculous. The sex is good, and being in charge is great, but you're talking like- like-"
He supplies the ending of that sentence. "Like it means something?"
And he knows it doesn't, not to her.
At least, not yet.
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, like it means something. And this can't- I don't do stuff like that. I'm not sweet little girlfriend material, I'm too crazy a bitch to pull it off. "
A year ago- or 7 decades ago, depending on how you think about it- Steve would have been so frightened of getting hurt that he'd have backed away from her immediately at those words. If he'd pursued this at all, it would have been from the point of view of having taken advantage and wanting to make amends. But that was before Rebirth and the Valkyrie and losing Peggy. That was before watching a horde of honest-to-goodness aliens try to take over New York. That was before the Norse God of Thunder say him down to have a little, brotherly chat and he told him to mind his own business. That was before. And though he knows that Thor managed to make him feel guilty about not taking more care over Brett The Boyfriend's dismissal, he accepts that it was Darcy's right to make that call. He accepts that she told him the truth about not being all that broken up about being newly single. He accepts that she likes giving him orders and he damn well likes taking them.
But what he won't accept is that she can't be treated well, and tenderly, after a bout of making him so damn happy she nearly blew both his heads off.
And if that has to be their first argument then so be it, because the idea that she's a "crazy bitch," who doesn't deserve it just ain't holding any water with him.
He looks at her then, crossing his arms sternly. He can see her relax a little as he reacts with what she has obviously assumed to be pique. "Darcy," he says, and there's no soldier or ma'am between them now, "How often have you taken my cock into your mouth and sucked me off in the last 26 hours?"
He nearly stumbles over the swear words but he manages to say them straight.
It occurs to him, somewhat randomly, that Esme would be so proud of him.
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Twice," she bites out tartly. A glower as she crosses her own arms. "You came the first time all on your own."
He nods. "I did. Just the taste of you was enough to- to-" Again he has to force himself to say it- "To get me off. The feel of you against my mouth was enough that I came in my shorts. But then I'd been dreaming about it for so long before it happened that I'm surprised I didn't try to get you naked the first time you handed me your belt." He grimaces.
"And that's not a report I want the Transit Authority to have to make."
Her eyes widen. Good, maybe he's actually shocked her a little.
Maybe now she can stop trying to protect herself so damn much.
"And when you looked up at me with that camisole on-" he continues, stroking out his thumb to her ruined vest, spattered with his ejaculate- "If I'd had it in me I swear I'd have come again. The memory of it's going to- to- to make me hard for weeks." He sees her eyes widen some more. "Because that's what you do to me. You make me so damn happy… And not just because you have the most awesome mouth, or breasts, or hands in the world. And not because you have come up with a use for that punching-bag hook that I defy anyone else to think of in a hundred years. You make me happy because you're you. And it's because you're you that I want to give something back. I want to treat you as well as you've treated me. I want… I want to be kind to you, don't you get that?"
He sighs. Runs his hand lightly against her collar bone.
She's staring at him as if she can't decide whether to bolt or stay.
"But if you don't see how you deserve that then- Then you might not be a bitch but I'll hazard a guess that you are a little crazy, ma'am." He reaches out and kisses her cheek, aware it might be for the last time.
"And not crazy in the way you're always saying. Crazy for real."
Darcy closes her mouth with an audible snap.
For a moment she just stares at him, apparently unable to speak. A first, Steve's sure, in the history of the universe though whether it's a good thing or not he can't really guess. And then slowly, very slowly, Darcy lets the coverlet fall down around her. Still maintaining eye contact she holds her arms aloft and, finally understanding, Steve reaches up to pull off her ruined top. It comes easily, some nondescript white bra underneath it. Still holding eye-contact Steve reaches for it and she doesn't stop him as he unclasps the back. The bra comes loose and her breasts fall free but he doesn't really look at them. His hands are aching to touch them, it's true, but she doesn't like that as much as she might do and if this is about her then he's not going to go there.
So, softly, he unwraps her from the coverlet like she's a Christmas present. Laying her down on her back and slowly opening her pants. Pulling them off. Trailing kisses up her thigh- she likes that- his fingers caressing her feet- She likes that too. He watches her the entire time he does it, taking his cue from what her eyes tell him. He hadn't realised it was possible to have a conversation without speaking but apparently it is. When she doesn't object he kisses her navel, the scent of her arousal making his mouth dry. Her hands go to his hair again and he sighs in contentment, letting her dig her fingers in. But this time he knows they won't stay there, this time he knows it will about what he can give her.
This time he knows she'll come saying his name and the thought makes him so damn hard.
And so, now that they're both naked he scoops her up and heads into the bathroom. The tub's full and they've been talking so long that the water has lost its piping hot edge. Perfect. When Agent Hill first showed him the place he didn't understand the changes the realtor had made: Why would you need low lights in the bathroom, when there was a danger you could fall asleep and drown? But Steve understands now. Oh Lord, does he. Everything in this room is here for the express purpose of treating Darcy Lewis well. And with that thought in mind he holds her over the hot water. He raises his eyebrows in question and she nods, giving consent as he lowers her into the hot, steamy water. He watches her for signs of discomfort- did he get the temperature right? - But she gives none. Instead she gives a soft, lovely sigh that seems to come from somewhere in the region of her toes. Steve smiles and picks up his sponge, soaping it. He moves to wash her arm but she shakes her head, a tiny pout marring her features.
"What is it?" he asks softly, not sure what he's missed out for her.
She crooks her finger and beckons him into the water, her eyes lit with something that might be glee.
"You want me in there, ma'am?" he asks her.
"Yes, Steve, I want you in here."
He's surprised by her use of his given name but he supposes he shouldn't be.
"To hear is to obey, Miss Darcy," he laughs, and joins her in the tub.
The amount of water the two of them displace means he's going to have one heck of a wet floor tomorrow but Steve doesn't mind. Instead he busies himself with arranging their bodies, smiling when Darcy humphs in irritation at his efforts and settles them to her liking, her smaller body against his larger one, his arms around her waist. For a moment Steve can't see where the pleasure is in this for her, since his mouth can only reach her neck and back and his cock's not going anywhere either. But then she takes his hand in hers and brings it slowly down her body. Her index and middle fingers settling over his, her palm pressing his down into her skin. He feels the springy hair of her pussy against his hand, feels her fingers pressing his downwards. She wriggles a little against his cock, adjusting her fingers as she does. It feels pretty damn good. And then his two digits are against her sex, inside it, its slickness obvious, the small bump of her pearl nudging against his fingertips. The moan she gives telling him the pleasure it brings. Her hips rising up to meet his hand showing how much she wants this. Heat goes through Steve as he realises what she's doing; He doesn't know why but this feels more intimate than anything they've done before, somehow, as if she's sharing something that's innately hers. But then, isn't that what he wanted? For it to be about her?
And would he change this, would he even try?
Of course not. So letting her lead he begins moving his fingers in time, as she does. His right hand caressing her sex softly, his left stroking circles against her thigh. Her breath starts getting heavier, her hips moving in time with their joined fingers. He begins nibbling and kissing along her neck and shoulders, tries to keep as much attention as he can on her. And then- For a moment she freezes, as if making a decision. Again that voice in Steve's head, his predilection, snaps at him to fix it and he opens his mouth to inquire what she needs. But then she takes his free hand and brings it up to cup her breast. She sighs as he does it, her hips returning to their earlier pace. She lies looser against him, as if she's found some of the peace she's given him.
"Like this?" he says in her ear, squeezing softly, and she nods to him.
"That's just like I like it, soldier," she murmurs. "Again. Do it again."
"Yes, ma'am." And he does as he's told, works to keep his touch light. He's heard plenty about tugging and squeezing and biting breasts over his years in the service but something tells him that's not what's needed here. After all, those nipples look pretty delicate. And if she wanted him to be rough with them he has plenty of proof she'd say. He's proved right when Darcy lets out a keening cry, her voice turning breathless. "Just like that, soldier," she murmurs, "Oh, just like that…It's so fucking good." For the first time the rhythm of their hands between her legs breaks, her hips bucking up and her legs twisting sharply. Her thighs spasming so tightly for a second he feels like their fingers will break. "Jesus," she hisses, "You're so fucking good at this-"
And with one last gasp her body arches, her orgasm ripping through her. Steve sees it in her eyes as they grow unfocussed, feels it in the tremors of her body as it stretches out above his. He kisses her throat and shoulders, rocks her through it. Wonders if it feels as intimate to her when she watches him come. And when she finally halts, then he wraps his arms around her. He wishes he had something to tie them together with, something to show how beautifully bound he feels. Darcy looks at him, her eyes refocusing. A blush that could rival his flushes through her and Steve finds he has to smile. "Don't laugh at me," she murmurs, and her voice isn't strident. It's the most vulnerable he's ever heard it. She's given him that, a gift that's part of her.
"What I just saw was too beautiful to laugh about," he says softly, and with that he lets her curl in against his chest.