Porny Prompt Fill
@glynnisi asked: Can I request ShieldShock (Steve/Darcy) #15 Comfort Sex?
This one took me a little longer than normal. It’s a bit fluffier than my usual, but I hope you like it! It’s not beta’d and NSFW stuff is under the cut!
“Steve?”
He registers her voice and her presence a split second before her hand touches his shoulder. Steve is sitting on one of the large luxurious sofas that adorn the waiting room of the Wakandan Medical and Scientific Research wing of the palace. He is hunched over, elbows on knees and head in hands trying to fight back his emotions over the last failure to break his best friends programming and his subsequent return to cryo. Again.
When he lifts his head to meet Darcy’s eyes, they’re full of concern and empathy so open it nearly brings the recently repressed tears back. Her hand is still on his shoulder and it starts to rub back and forth gently.
“You okay there, big guy?” she asks as she lowers herself next to him.
There is a tightness in his throat that he doesn’t trust, so he just nods and avoids eye contact, shifting slightly. He’s not sure if he wants to avoid touching her or curl into her warmth.
It’s been a rough couple of days.
“Did they put Bucky back under today?” she asks, because they’re friends, and she works her in the RD wing with her boss and friend Dr. Foster ever since Ross started harassing them for information on Thor, so she knows things hadn’t been going well with Buck.
He nods again and the hand rubbing his shoulder moves across the line of back to rub the curve of his neck. The gently massaging fingers feel good, but he doesn’t let himself relax into it. He can’t. Bucky is frozen once more, failed by Steve and the scientist trying to help him get Hydra out of his head, and Steve is alone. As he deserves to be. Until Buck can find peace and comfort… well, Steve just can’t afford to relax.
It’s just that the way her thumb is pressing into the tiny muscles at the base of his skull feels really amazing. Maybe he does relax a little.
“It sucks, I know,” Darcy murmurs, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I know you’re not going to give up. Maybe the next time—“
“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice only croaking a little, but he doesn’t want to let her keep spilling platitudes at him. It only makes him feel worse.
Luckily, Darcy seems to pick up on that and she says no more, though she keeps working out the tension in his shoulders and neck. He is grateful. He knows she feels real sympathy, and she cares about him. Somehow, the thought of her wanting to make him feel better makes it harder to contain all the things trying to bubble their way up from the deep dark place that he tries to bury his pain.
He can’t stop the way he starts to shake, shoulders jerking as his face twists and the tears start to fall. He is so alone. He is so weak. He hurts.
Of course, Darcy can’t help but notice how he’s falling apart.
She says nothing, only tries to wrap her other arm around his front and hug him, but it’s awkward and the angle isn’t really working, and before he knows it, she’s moving, sliding off the couch and pushing herself into his lap. Darcy is wrapping around him like a warm and fuzzy octopus. She’s curling around him, arms around his neck and knees against his hips and her lower legs pressing snug around the outside of his thighs and, most intimate of all, her face against his neck and she’s pulling his into hers.
It turns out, a Darcy Lewis hug is the best place to breakdown and let out all the bottled up emotions he’d been hanging onto for so, so long. There is no sense of time, only unconditional comfort and the slow shuddering release of his pain.
It is a revelation and he feels somehow completely empty, and totally recharged by the time he is able to finish his shuddering and sobbing. She holds him a while longer, still. She’s silent, her hands brushing absently over his head and neck and scraping through his hair until he’s able to lean back and look up at her.
He opens his mouth to apologize for the way he unloaded on her, for the dark blotchy tear stains he can see on her shoulder, but she has a finger over his lips and is shaking his head at him, and he knows he needs not apologize. It’s another relief added to a thousand more and he knows he will never be able to repay her kindness, her wonderfulness.
When Darcy moves her finger from his lips and rests her hands on the side of his face, he simply says, “Thanks, Darce.”
“No worries, Steve-o,” she whispers and then cups his face closer so she can use her thumbs to brush the last vestiges of his tears from his cheeks. He watches her as she focuses on what she’s doing, the way her eyes, soft and bright, move over his face, the way a tendril of her dark hair is caught on one brow and keeps brushing her check, the way her expressive mouth shifts and flows with each thought that crosses her mind.
He glances up from staring at her lips to find she’s caught him staring at them and something in the air around them changes. He can’t explain or describe it, but it’s extremely clear to both of them that this shift has occurred. Darcy takes a quick half-breath, and he sees her eyes widen slightly as they flick down to his mouth. Her hips rock, the angle of their bodies adjusting and though they’re no closer together than they were a second ago, it feels massively different.
Suddenly, she isn’t just sitting on his lap, hugging a friend. Now, she’s a beautiful woman with her hips pressed to his and her breasts against his chest.
All thoughts of refusing comfort have long fled. Everything feels somehow unreal, so instead of relying on his better judgment, he goes with his gut. He wraps his arms righter around her, slides his hand up under her hair, and pulls her head down to show his gratitude with a kiss.
As much as he melted into her warmth before, Darcy folds into his now. There is a heat to it, though it remains mostly chaste. There is desire between them, but his kiss is about something else, something softer.
Her nails in his hair, scraping along his scalp, while empirically the same motion as before, as a different tone, and there is an awareness to all the ways their bodies are touching that was missing before.
It is still comfort, but the beat has changed.
When she tilts her head to the right and parts her lips for him, he deepens things, and they both moan softly. Darcy arches her back and flexes her hips, undulating slightly in his arms as she rubs against him in a delicious way that makes all the blood start to rush south.
It’s instantly obvious to her that he’s growing hard against the juncture of her thighs and she breaks the kiss, her forehead resting against his as she tries to catch her breath.
There are no more words. Darcy simply stands, offers him her hand, and when he takes it and stands, leads him down the hallway, out of the research wing and across the skybridge to the residential wing.
By the time they enter her quarters, his stomach has twisted it’s self into a knot or two, and reason has raised its hand, waving it and begging for him to call on it so it can ask if he really thinks this is a good idea.
When she turns around to close the door to her bedroom, her face is still so open and kind, a questioning tilt to one eyebrow that he knows means he could back out now and she would be totally cool with it. No problem. No questions asked.
But the thing is? Steve wants this. He thinks he needs this, and he thinks Darcy may feel the same way. He doesn’t know if or how it will change things between them, believes he understands what she is offering and why.
Pulling on her hand, still in his, he reels her in to him gently, allowing her the same opportunity to change her mind, but she comes quickly and willingly, her arms wrapping around his waist as she raises her face to him, lips parted, eyes closing.
This time, when he kisses her, he lets the lust he feels for her pour through. Steve tries not to rush, but he wastes no time letting go of his doubt and showing her all the other things he’s been holding back. His tongue presses against hers as he shows her how much he appreciates her wit, her charm, and her moxie. His hands trail along her waist, one smoothing down over the curve of her hip to her ass so he can let her know how much he’s always loved watching her walk away. His other hand pushes up the back of her shirt so he can undo the clasp of her bra and then push it and her shirt off so he can express his long held belief that her breasts are perfect.
With her top bare, he backs up to sit on her bed, pulling her with him so that he can caress and kiss the swell of each breast with a tender reverence that leaves her shivering and clutching at his shoulders.
“Steve,” she gasps when he pulls a crisp nipple into his mouth and sucks. His hands are busy undoing her pants and pushing them down. Darcy steps out of them and he takes a second to run his finger under the elastic around the curve of one cheek. It leaves her skin in goosebumps and her breathing in sharp, little pants.
When she pulls his face up to give him a scorching deep kiss, he pulls her panties off and lets himself fall backwards, cradling her as he brings her with him. Steve holds her close as their mouths slide and slip together, wet and slick and burning as they give and take.
He’s always known she was a crafty woman, and somehow, she manages to get his shirt up over his head without even breaking her rhythm of sucking, nipping kisses against his neck. Her nails scrap lightly over his pecs, catching his own nipples and his hips jerk up, the fly of his jeans and the firm line behind it catching right against her sensitive bits.
“Steve!” she calls again, just as breathless, but with more intensity.
Rolling them over, he sits back on his knees so he can undo the damned things and get them off. While he works on his pants, she scoots across the bed a bit to get into the drawer of the nightstand and retrieve a condom. He shoots her another grateful smile as he rolls enough to shuck off his jeans and boxer briefs. He hadn’t even considered protection, he just been so desperate to be with her, inside her… Man with a plan! HA!
Darcy waves him over and he crawls closer, kneeling between her spread knees as she tears the packet open and reaches to slide it on. The first tough of her hand on him has him praying for stamina, and it’s all he can do to start mentally chanting statistics from the Dodgers of his day. He knows Darcy wouldn’t judge him for it, but he really doesn’t want to embarrass himself.
Once everything is in place and his pulse has decreased enough to let him focus once more, he leans forward, slotting his body to hers and offers her another kiss. It’s soft and hopeful and the feel of her under him is heaven.
Her thighs rise to cradle his hips and help guide him forward, the brush and press of her feet on the back of his legs sends a shock of intimacy and lust right to his center.
Steve takes a deep breath. Darcy shifts her hips slightly. He rocks forward on his knees and he’s in. She’s so tight around him, but the slide is easy enough, and he thanks god and Thor and all the rest of them that she’s enjoying herself enough to be ready, that she’s so wet and welcoming.
He feels like a fumbling first-timer, his back tensing as he tries to gain some composure and promise himself to quit acting like a blushing virgin, but then her nails are in his hair again and she’s sighing easily as she curls her limbs around him and shares of all her comfort once more.
Steve lets all those thoughts and feelings fall away, much like the sadness and despair had earlier. He lowers his walls, drops his resistance and hesitation and just lets them be.
His first full thrust brings his name to her lips a third time and he smiles as he leans in to fondle and caress her breasts while he kisses along her neck and jaw. Slowly, he works himself in and out of her, as he worships her for all she’s given him this day, and every day before, and for all he hopes she will continue to be a bright and lovely light in his life.
Getting lost in the rhythm between them, he settles into some kind of trance, her whispered praises and admonishments a hypnotic mantra. His hands seem to move on their own, mapping her curves and working to bring her pleasure.
At one point, she pushes on his shoulder, and he rolls them once more. With her back arched and her glorious breast bouncing, she rids him, though he does his share with his grip on her hips and thighs, and his heels braced against the bed and pushing up in time with her pace. She is glorious as she chases her pleasure and when he slides one hand down to thumb at her clit she smiles so brightly that when she comes her shout is more like a laugh, bright and full of life.
Palming one breast, he sits up because he must kiss her, must feel that joy against his lips. She curls her arms and legs around him again and he holds her carefully in his lap while he soaks in her delight. Before long, she is rocking against him and writhing in a way that has his balls growing tight. Wrapping and arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders he begins lifting her and then pressing her down on his cock.
His pace is unhurried, but he’s pushing so deep into that it doesn’t matter. In a matter of minutes his movements are stuttering as he fights the edge of his climax, wanting the ride the high, sharp wave of it as long as possible. Her face has been curled into his shoulder, her breaths warm against his collar bone, but she raises it to pull his earlobe between her lips and after sucking for a moment, releases it and whispers, “Just let go,” across the shell of his ear and he can only obey.
It’s like lightning between them and he can only clench with the jolt of it. He holds on way longer than is prudent, even after the tension subsides and a potent lassitude spreads along his every nerve. When he finally returns to himself, he has melted back into the bed and she is bending over him, smiling warmly.
“Better?” she asks with a quirk of her lovely mouth.
“So much…” he groans in satisfaction, and then moans in disappointment when she slides off of him to take care of the mess. His heart lurches when he fears she will leave, but a minute later, she returns curling up, still naked, against his side and resting her head on his chest.
“Thank you, Darce, that was—” he licks his lips and forces down the lump rising in his throat. “That was everything.”
“Hmmmm,” she agrees. “My pleasure. Seriously, anytime.”
He knows she’s being her normal flippant self, but he’s hoping that maybe he can take her up on that. Maybe after he fixes her dinner. Maybe again in the morning, before he cooks her breakfast. And maybe, just maybe, every day after that as well.
