Keeping Secrets - John Walker/US Agent
Pairing: John Walker/US Agent x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Foreplay/Oral
Prompt: John tries to hide the fact that he got hurt on a mission—but things don’t go quite as planned when you find out. Or do they?
The room was quiet, the way it always was after a fight—not the kind of fight that ended with shouting or slammed doors, but the slow, aching kind. The kind where silence said more than words ever could.
Y/N lay on their bed, sprawled like a siren in his favorite black silk nightdress, pretending to read a book. Her legs were long and bare in the amber light of the bedside lamp, her expression set in that unreadable calm she wore when she was absolutely livid.
Walker stood in the doorway, watching her like a man already halfway into enemy territory.
He’d just come out of the shower, hair damp, sweat from the night’s job washed off—but not the guilt. That still clung to him like smoke.
She had seen it when he’d peeled his shirt off, finally. The angry red scar slicing across his side. A knife, deep enough to have needed stitches. She hadn’t said anything right away. Just stared before turning and leaving the room.
That was definitely scarier than her yelling.
It had been an hour. She hadn’t moved except to turn the pages of that book she wasn’t actually reading. She just lay there, silent, taunting him with her body and her indifference like it wasn’t a weapon.
Walker stepped in, shutting the bathroom door softly behind him. She didn’t look up.
“You’re not even reading that,” he said quietly.
“Yes I am.” Her voice was flat, clipped. The verbal equivalent of slamming a door in his face.
He crossed the room slowly, crawling onto the bed like a man approaching dangerous territory. Because he was. But she didn’t stop him—she just kept her eyes on the page, like he wasn’t already sliding between her legs.
“You’re mad,” he said against her knee, kissing just above it.
“No, Walker,” she replied, flipping a page she hadn’t read. “I’m furious.”
Another kiss, higher this time, on the inside of her thigh. She sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away.
“You got stabbed and didn’t tell me.”
“I got a cut,” he corrected, fingers pushing up the edge of her nightdress. “There is a big difference.”
She finally looked at him, the book dropping onto her chest. “Are you being serious right now? You think because you downplay it that it makes it better?”
He kissed her hip, then the soft skin above it, fingers grazing up her sides. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react exactly like this, and it was nothing.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It was already healing—”
“How long?” she cut in, dropping the book beside her with a soft thud and finally looking down at him, fury and something else simmering behind her eyes.
He paused, caught in that moment between truth and deflection, his finger brushing lazily over her nipple through the thin silk. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t gasp. Just kept her gaze locked on his like she wasn’t unraveling beneath him.
“How long what?” he asked, pretending not to notice the way her chest rose just a little quicker beneath his hand.
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. How long have you been hiding it from me?”
Walker didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid down, palm dragging across the dip of her stomach, fingers curling under the hem of her nightdress like he had all the time in the world.
She did a damn good job of pretending not to be turned on—legs stretched out, lips pursed in that tight, unimpressed line, not a flicker of emotion on her face. But he knew her better than that. Knew every tell, every shift in her breathing, every way her body betrayed her long before her mouth ever did.
If he touched her now—really touched her—he knew what he’d find.
Wet. Warm. Waiting.
Still, she played it cool. That stubborn, glorious pride in full swing.
“Three days,” he said at last.
She blinked. “You’re kidding.”
But he wasn’t. And when his fingers slipped between her thighs, finding heat and slickness like he knew he would, her jaw dropped in spite of herself.
“You absolute—”
She choked on a gasp as he pushed two fingers inside her with maddening confidence, a slow grin stretching across his face.
“Three days?” she bit out, hands fisting the sheets beside her. “You came home bleeding and just didn’t say a word?”
“I said ‘hi,’” he teased, voice low against her neck as he kissed his way down it, lips brushing her pulse, slow and deliberate. “Pretty sure that counts.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t murder you in your sleep.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he smirked, pumping his fingers slow and deep. “You’d miss me too much.”
“You overestimate your importance.”
“And yet your legs are wide open right now.”
She squirmed underneath him, hips giving away what her mouth wouldn’t. Her head stayed pinned to the pillow, expression set—like this wasn’t lighting her nerves on fire.
“Nothing? Not a peep?” he murmured against her skin. “That’s fine. I’ve got time.”
Walker came in with the killshot, thumb rubbing slow, excruciating circles over her clit. Her fingers dug into his shoulders then, nails pressing crescents into his skin.
“Fuck—You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re soaked.” He pulled back just enough to meet her glare, his smile maddeningly smug. “For someone who's furious with me, you're sure making it hard to believe.”
“You think this means I forgive you?”
“I think your body’s saying a hell of a lot more than your mouth is,” he said, curling his fingers just right, making her back arch against her will.
She hissed in frustration. “I should dump you. Find someone boring and safe. Who reports paper cuts.”
“Oh, please.” He chuckled against her chest. “You’d eat them alive.”
“They wouldn’t be as brazen as you.”
“They also wouldn’t make you come like I do.”
She opened her mouth, maybe to argue—maybe to say something sharp and clever—but then his mouth closed around her nipple through the silk and her breath hitched instead.
“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, voice low and wrecked now.
“I really am,” he said, the nightdress pushed up so he could kiss her stomach. “Because if I didn’t have that going for me, I think you’d actually kill me.”
“You have no idea.”
But her tone had softened, even if her body still hummed with tension. He could feel it—anger knotted up with desire, a coil inside her just waiting to snap. She wanted to stay mad. She was mad. But she wanted him more.
“It just scares me,” she said after a moment, voice quiet now, brushing the edge of a confession.
Walker looked up at her, the teasing falling away, just for a second.
“I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry.”
He crawled back up and kissed her then—slow, honest, nothing cocky about it. Just the truth, pressed to her lips.
Her fingers slid into his hair again, not pulling now. Fingers brushing through the blonde strands as he moved back down to her stomach.
“Next time, you tell me.”
“I will.”
“Promise.”
“I swear.” His voice was rough. Real.
She rolled her eyes—barely—then let out a low gasp as his tongue replaced his thumb, warm and slow against her clit. Her hand flew to his hair again, gripping tight this time, like she couldn’t decide whether to push him away or drag him closer.
“Oh God—John.”
Walker groaned low in his throat like he was savoring her, like the taste of her was the only absolution he needed. And maybe it was. He worked her with a patience that bordered on sinful, tongue moving in slow, teasing strokes, then faster—his fingers sliding back inside her, curling just right, drawing little sounds from her throat she tried so hard to hold in.
“T—this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” she gasped, her hips lifting off the bed.
“Didn’t say I was,” he murmured against her, not letting up for a second.
“You’re just—trying to distract me—”
“Is it working?”
“Shut up and—oh fuck—”
Her head snapped back against the pillow, thighs trembling around his shoulders as he doubled down. Her hands fisted the sheets now, jaw slack, her breath turning ragged and fast. Her control shattered in pieces—glorious, breathless pieces—as he pushed her right to the edge and held her there.
“Come for me,” he whispered against her, voice rough. “Come on, baby. Let me have it.”
She broke for him in a rush, pleasure crashing through her like a wave, blinding and hot and perfect. Her body arched off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she clenched around his fingers, pulsing through every slow stroke of his tongue until she was trembling beneath him.
Walker didn’t move until the last of it had passed, until she sagged into the mattress, boneless and breathing hard.
Only then did he kiss the inside of her thigh, a soft press of lips like a seal on a promise. He crawled up her body slowly, curling beside her, brushing her sweat-damp hair off her cheek.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, his cocky grin gone for now—just him.
She blinked at him, chest still rising fast, lips parted like she wanted to say something.
Then she shoved him lightly with the back of her hand. “You’re an idiot.”
He grinned. “Yeah. But I’m the idiot who just made you forget your own name.”
“…Temporarily,” she said, biting back a smile.
He kissed her forehead. “I’ll take it.”
