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They’d been back in upstate New York three weeks before Bucky made good on his promise to cook something for Darcy. He’d figured out what he wanted to make, bought the ingredients, set the mood with a playlist he was pretty sure she’d like...and that’s where things got complicated. Although complicated might not exactly be the best way to describe the situation.
Bucky glanced over at the girl sitting on his kitchen counter amid an array of spices and ingredients, and decided there were probably six or seven other words that worked better. In fact, there were a few sentences that would describe the situation perfectly. All of them were filthy.
He wondered if it was too early to tell her that he was stupid in love with her. Probably.
Darcy seemed oblivious, swinging her legs with the ankles crossed, heels bumping one of the cabinet doors softly on every downswing. Legs that were longer than her short status implied. Their silky skin was fully on display, because five minutes into their cooking venture, Darcy had decided to dub it strip cooking, and lost her pants.
There was a 99% certainty in Bucky’s head that strip cooking wasn’t a thing. He found that this knowledge had no bearing on how much he was enjoying himself at the moment. So far, he’d lost his shoes, socks, and shirt. Darcy called it the rule of S’s.
“You didn’t pre-measure the salt,” she said, shaking her head at him. “Everything with an S has to be removed.”
Then she knocked a potato off the counter while helping him get the t-shirt over his head, and off came her jeans.
“P for pants, Bucky. P for pants,” Darcy chided when he pointed out that jeans started with a J.
P also stood for panting for it, apparently. Which was how he felt at the moment as she handed him a small bowl full of chopped onion. Darcy was so damn beautiful. He wanted to cancel the entire dinner and bury his face between her legs instead. It took all his willpower to added the onion to the skillet without doing that, and calmly hold his hand out for the next ingredient.
“Spinach,” he said.
“Kiss,” she replied.
“Kiss?”
“It’s a really old, and well known rule of strip cooking. Anytime spinach comes into play, you have to kiss your sous chef.”
Her eyes were full of innocence, but her lips were quirking up sinfully at the corners, and Bucky decided that if she wanted to make up rules on the spot and lie about them, it was fine with him.
“Sure thing, doll. I’m not even sure how I forgot that rule.”
“Right?” She hooked her finger into one of his belt loops and started reeling him towards her. “It’s the oldest one in the book. Older than you even. Ancient.”
Bucky could feel the grin on his face. He knew it was verging on goofily smitten, but as he slotted in between her legs and felt them wrap around his hips, his ability to care disappeared. Truthfully, he hadn’t really cared to begin with. That grin was on his face most of the time when Darcy was around. She was used to it by now.
“You look like you have pressing things on your mind,” Darcy said. “I can see the wheels turning from here.”
“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” Bucky replied. They were so close he could feel her warm breath on his chin and mouth as he as he formed the words.
“We both got lucky,” she replied. “And we’re about to get luckier in a second.”
He grinned, teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Oh yeah? Does that fall under the spinach rule too?”
“Did I ever tell you that I love when you do the lip biting thing?”
“Once or twice.”
“I love it. You know what I love even better?”
“No. Tell me.”
“This.” Darcy’s chin tilted upwards, lips finally meeting his.
It was hot, and sweet, Bucky's hands cradling her face, as she wriggled closer to him on the counter. He moved a thumb below her bottom lip, tugging down slightly, and she opened to him with a hushed sigh that sent desire pinging through his body like a firestorm. It seemed like lately he operated in two modes. Wanting Darcy, and having Darcy. And right now? Right now he was going to have her.
“Mmm, Bucky, what about dinner?” she gasped out as his mouth traveled across her jaw so he could take her earlobe between his teeth.
“It can wait,” he replied. “I can’t.”
Her neck arched, and he took advantage of the exposed skin, making her shiver. “Yeah, but half the ingredients are sitting next to me, and...won’t the stuff on the stove burn?”
“No. Yes. Fuck.” His fingers bit into the counter as he pushed away from her, head hanging down, and chest heaving. “It will. And I promised to cook for you.”
Bucky looked up, meeting her eyes, and what he saw made him want to shove everything left on the counter onto the floor so he could lay her down and finish what they started. Darcy’s eyes were cloudy with desire, lips still parted from his kisses, and her skin was flushed across her cheekbones. She was gorgeous. Bucky mentally tallied up how much longer the cooking would take, added that to the potential time spent eating, and groaned internally.
Or maybe not so internally. Darcy must have heard it, because she shook her head, and said, “I know. Maybe strip cooking was a bad idea.”
“No, doll. It was a great idea. I mean, look at you, beautiful legs right here where I can touch them.” He traced the tip of one finger over her bare knee, and Darcy shivered again. “We’ll get through this. What is it that they say about good things coming to those who wait?”
“That they suffer constantly from the frustrating nature of their lives?”
“Suffer, huh?” Bucky stood still for a long, slow moment, just looking at her. Then he reached across the stove and shut off the burner. “I don’t know about you, Darce, but I’m not a big fan of suffering or frustration.”
One delicate eyebrow arched. “Yeah. Me neither. Are we skipping dinner?”
“Oh no. We’ll get back to dinner...later.”
“I fucking love late dinners.”
Bucky let his eyes rove over her from head to toe, but made no move to get closer. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Soooo…” Darcy stretched, back curving in a way that made his dick throb, and pulse pound. “...what are you waiting for, Sergeant Barnes?”
“I’m picking a flat surface.”
“Horizontal flat? Or vertical flat?”
He hadn’t considered vertical until she said it, and now that she had? Yeah. Vertical was his new favorite. Bucky finally made a move, stepping up to her, and sweeping her off the counter in into his arms. He could feel her ankles locking against his spine as he backed her up into the kitchen wall.
“Ooooh, vertical,” she said, letting her palms slide down his bare chest. “We haven’t done this since that time in the shower.”
Bucky’s brain started skipping back and forth between the present, and their first time in New Orleans. The memory of her pressed against the shower tiles while he thrust into her under the spray of the water had him grinding against her, and capturing her mouth with a roughness that made her moan. Darcy somehow managed to undo his jeans, lick her palm, and get him in her hand faster than he could have thought possible. He let her stroke him, hips rocking as her hand slid up and down his cock.
It felt so good. So fucking good. Too good. A few more seconds, and all Bucky’s plans for his new favorite flat surface would be shot to shit.
“Behave yourself,” he told her, and she shook her head no. Her eyes were fixed on what her hand was doing, and Bucky nearly finished right there on spot watching her watch him. It was goddamn unacceptable. “Alright. Have it your way.” He grabbed both her hands in his cybernetic one, and held them fast to the wall above her head. “Gonna make you come so hard, Darce. By the time I’m done with you, this whole damn building is gonna know you’re mine.”
She tightened her legs around his waist in response, using the leverage to rub her core along his length. “That goes both ways, you know, soldier.”
“You kidding me, doll? Everyone has known I’m yours from the moment we got back.”
It was true. There was practically a welcoming party waiting for them in the lobby when the SUV pulled up in front of the facility. A nonchalant, covert welcoming party, but Bucky wasn’t an idiot. The sideways glances were hard to miss, and since when did the Avengers assemble in the lobby? He refused to give them the satisfaction of showing that he noticed. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t fully aware of all the eyes on him and Darcy as he walked her through the entry with her bags hung all over him like a packhorse.
Or that they went straight to her place and didn’t come out again for a full seventy-two hours. Something that was loudly noted by Barton when they finally decided to show up to watch TV in the common room. Darcy didn’t even bat an eye at the comments from their friends. She just got them both a snack, and plopped into his lap where he was sitting on the couch. And that was how they let everyone know what was up.
Speaking of what was up… Darcy rolled her hips against his, snapping his attention back into the here and now. The damp fabric still between them was setting up a delicious friction, but it wasn’t quite the friction he wanted...or needed. She was still far too dressed for either of them to get any satisfaction.
“God, Bucky, I’m so wet… Please.”
Her lips skimmed his ear as she whispered the words, and he closed his eyes. Bucky curled his fingers into the lace separating them, giving it a small tug.
“Do it,” she said.
He leaned forward so his forehead could rest against hers. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers were nearly shaking by the time he gathered the material into his fist and heard it start to tear. Darcy bowed against him when the seams gave way, a small whimper escaping her mouth. He pulled back in alarm.
“Darce?”
“I’m okay,” she told him. “Really.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No.”
He still had her hands trapped in his, but that didn’t stop Darcy from seeking out his lips. Bucky felt her tongue flick along his, when he chased it back into her mouth with his own, she sucked on it, making him groan.
“Jesus fucking Christ, gorgeous. How did I do without you for so long?”
“You didn’t. Remember?”
“Yeah. I remember. You ready?”
“Bucky, if you hadn’t had my hands pinned to the wall for the past five minutes, we’d be fucking by now. Is that ready enough for you?”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“I kiss you with this mouth.”
“Yes you do, doll,” he said, using the weight of his body to hold her against the wall as he reached between them to line himself up, and slide inside. “Yes you do.”
She drew in a sharp breath as her body adjusted, and he switched the position of his arm so it was supporting her under her thighs. On his first thrust they both gasped. Bucky grinned, and ghosted his lips over hers, feeling her answering smile beneath them.
“Good?” he asked.
“So good,” Darcy said.
“Am I?”
“Always.”
“Well then, let’s see just how good I can be,” Bucky replied, hips snapping up into hers again.
It was fast, and furious, and by the end of it she was making noises that had him barely holding on to sanity. There was nothing but the feel of her, her legs folded around him, her wrists inside his hand, her lips moving desperately with his. And lower down...the way her body surrounded him, slick, and tight, with muscles squeezing and rippling as the breath began to hitch in her lungs.
Bucky could feel Darcy’s pulse quicken under the metal bands in his palm. He could hear the wanton moans each time he stroked into her, and the tension they were both chasing had started to wind down tight inside him like a spring.
“Darcy…” he said urgently. “Where are we at here, doll? ‘Cause I’m trying to hold on for you, but it’s a close thing right now.”
“Just a little more,” she whimpered. “Just...just let me…”
Her body shifted, hips canting up towards his, and then her moans turned into broken little cries when he started hitting all her sweet spots at once. Two thrusts, three, and she was arching into the wall, bottom lip caught between her teeth, and the long line of her neck exposed as she shattered in his arms. It was so good...so good, and then it was too much, catching him off guard and triggering his own staggeringly intense release.
Bucky lost his legs halfway through it, dropping to his knees as he continued to stroke up into her in sharp, jerky movements. He released her hands, feeling the drywall give under the strength of his palm when it smacked against the wall for balance. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but the two of them, and the way she was making him feel in that moment. Everything went white, sound muffling in his ears, and that need to give her everything, show her every part of him, rose to the surface, making him shudder and shake as she held him close to her heart.
He bit back every urge to tell her all things he wanted to say. It was too soon. Things between them were too new. Bucky knew someday soon they wouldn’t be, and he could tell her everything he was feeling...but for now? He’d exchange the words of love for others ones, like ‘fuck’, and ‘yes’, and ‘you feel so good, doll’.
They had time. This much he knew. The thing between them? It wasn’t short-term. They had time.
Finally he stilled. Darcy was wrapped around him, face level with his, sharing his very breath as her body shivered with aftershocks.
“I think...we broke...the wall,” she said, and he huffed out a laugh.
“I’ll patch it.”
“Don’t tell Steve."
This time the laugh was deep, rumbling through him, and making her laugh too. “You think Steve hasn’t broken his share of walls with Natasha?”
“Please tell me he asked for your help with fixing them, because I need that thought in my life,” Darcy replied. “Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, hanging sheetrock because Captain America destroyed a wall with sex.”
“Well he told me it was due to moving furniture, but I’m not an idiot,” Bucky said. “What kinda moron moves a couch almost six feet up in the air, right?”
“Things I didn’t know before you and I started dating...Steve Rogers is a total liar who lies.”
“You have no idea, doll. Someday ask me about all the times he enlisted.”
She hummed softly, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Bucky, do we have time for a shower before dinner?”
“We have time for whatever you want before dinner. I’m gonna have to start over anyway.”
“I feel like I should be sorry about that,” she said. “But I’m really not.”
Bucky smirked, standing up, and taking her with him. “Me neither.”
“So. Shower then cook. Then eat?”
“I dunno. I feel like maybe we can squeeze another round in there. What do you say, doll?”
“I say I love when you cook me dinner.”
“Oh yeah?” He started walking towards the bathroom with her in his arms. “That’s good, because I love it too.”