Work Text:
Ava told herself it didn’t mean anything. She was just scratching an itch. It was temporary. Physical…. Empty.
And she was certain John told himself the same… that whatever this was, it didn’t matter.
They kept their distance in the daylight. They sat apart in briefings, traded insults during missions instead of looks. But in the quiet hours, they orbited each other like twin planets caught in opposing gravity, always near, never touching - until they did.
No one suspected the late night meet ups, the whispered curses tangled in heat or the bruises that bloomed in secret, each one a keepsake of the way he touched her. She could still feel him. She could still feel his fingerprints on her body like they were coded into her DNA.
Ava hated how good he was at getting under her skin, and even worse… how much she craved it.
Which made it especially infuriating when she turned the corner - and nearly crashed right into him.
He stopped dead in place, holding a mug of steaming coffee he impressively managed not to spill all over her. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his mouth curling up in a slow, knowing smile.
Ava glanced around. The hallway was empty with only one flickering light overhead, and his bedroom door to her left. Her entire body reacted at the sight of him.
“No,” she warned. She moved to push past him but he followed, pausing only to dump the mug on a windowsill and grabbing her arm before she could escape too far.
“Come on, Ava. You’ve been dodging me since Tuesday.”
“I’m not dodging,” she informed him, lifting her chin. “I’m simply avoiding a lapse in judgment.”
He took a step closer to her, that stupid cocky grin he usually wore to rile her up dimming just enough to show he was being real. His voice dropped, turning low and husky. But there was something in it that felt pained.
“You mean this?”
She felt the warmth of his hand on her skin, his grip firm but not tight as she glanced down. She knew he wouldn’t fight it if she jerked away but even as she willed her body to do that, she couldn’t bring herself to move. She studied him, took in the expression he wore and hated the way her heart reacted when she saw something soft flicker behind his eyes. She told herself to ignore it. John Walker was an asshole. An arrogant, loud, ex-Captain America wannabe asshole. But she had also seen the things that haunted him in the void, the things that he’d broken, the mistakes he’d made.
And he’d seen all of hers.
And most of all, she hated that there was nowhere to hide from him. All their snappy, well placed barbs were useless and empty when they’d witnessed each other’s nightmares.
“John,” she said, her voice low with warning again.
His hand curled around her arm shifted slightly and the touch was electric on her bare skin. She almost wished she still wore her suit instead of the flimsy tank top and sweats. She must have seen something in her eye, something weakening because he spared a moment to look both ways like they were about to rob a bank, then he leaned in.
His warm breath ghosted over her ear. “Give me ten minutes. Just ten.”
Ava grit her teeth as she turned her face away. Goddamn it. She wanted him, but she wasn’t about to make it easy. She gave him another haughty look. “You are unbelievable.”
Undeterred, he stepped closer, backing her up against the wall. She wanted to shove at his stupid broad chest and maybe knee him where it hurt, but she didn’t move. As though sensing her weakness, his mouth quirked upwards in another smirk. “I make you come twice every time,” he whispered.
Ava hissed between her teeth. “You-”
The bedroom door creaked open behind her and they both froze. John recovered before she did.
“It’s empty,” he told her but she ducked out of his grasp to open the door just enough to check anyway. It was empty like he said. Of course it was.
She glanced back at him, eyes narrowed as she weighed her options.
“You have five minutes,” she finally said, grabbing his collar and yanking him inside.
He laughed under his breath as she shoved him against the wall. The door clicked shut behind them and he quickly flicked the lock.
“You’re bossy when you’re desperate,” he murmured, grabbing her hips.
She kissed him to shut him up, wrapping her arms around his neck. It wasn’t gentle, it held all her frustration how of how much he had gotten under her skin.
He growled into her mouth like he had been waiting for it all day.
“You’re loud,” she hissed between kisses. “You need to be quiet.”
“I’ll try,” he grinned. He was already hard beneath his jeans and she felt him against her hip and she shoved her hands under his shirt. Her palms skimmed over muscle and warmth and a sigh escaped her without meaning to as he trailed hungry kisses over her jaw and along her throat.
“You really are an asshole,” she murmured, threading her fingers through his hair. She felt him laugh and his kisses turned into a light nip against her skin that made her breath hitch.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he breathed back. She huffed a laugh in spite of herself as his hands skimmed over her shoulders, misleadingly gentle. He kissed her again, soft enough that it lowered her defences enough he was able to scoop her up and carry her to the bed.
Sometimes she didn’t mind his extra strength. He lowered her to the bed carefully, his gaze trained on hers with a silent question. She nodded and parted her thighs and it was all he needed to settle between them as he kissed her again.
It wasn’t love. Well, not technically, but sometimes Ava wondered if it could be. When he was buried inside her, their foreheads pressed together and they didn’t speak but shared breath and souls, it seemed like it was the only place either of them knew how to be soft.
John knew never to ask for explanations. He just touched her like she was solid.
He slid her shirt up, tugging it over her head with maddening patience, and then paused to look at her.
She hated that too. The way he drank her in, like she was real.
“Must you stare?” she muttered, breathless and he chuckled again.
“Hard not to when you’re like this.”
She reached up to curl her fingers in his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers before she could feel too much or say anything else that could give too much way. His hands moved over her, soft and possessive, drifting across her breasts, down her stomach and swirling over her hips. He knew exactly how she liked to be touched now. He knew what places made her arch and which ones made her go still.
And then he kissed the inside of her thigh and hovered, waiting.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmured.
“If I have to give you directions, then you’re more useless than I thought-“
He laughed, biting lighting on the inside of her thigh before smoothing the skin with his tongue. She gripped a fistful of his hair, arching and gasping. Something like a curse slipped out of her mouth which only encouraged him. She heard him chuckle again and then his mouth was on her, his fingers soon weaving a dance through her soft folds and dipping inside her while he tasted her. And when she squirmed and gasped and shuddered against his mouth then tried to squirm away to catch her breath, he refused to let her escape him just to prove a point.
She whimpered as she bucked against his mouth. “You son of a-“
He cut her off with his mouth on hers, moving so quickly she was still reeling from the shift. She tasted herself on his tongue but that thought barely registered before she felt his heavy length pushing into her.
She felt a shudder roll over his shoulders. “Ava.”
Her voice was tight when she answered. “John-“
She hadn’t meant to say it like that, soft and exposed, like maybe she needed him. But he didn’t tease her for it, instead just kissing her again, deep and quiet as he sank deeper into her body.
Her legs wrapped around him without thought as she clung to his shoulders, and the world shrank down to his breath, his hands and the heat of him inside her. Every thrust was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly deep.
Ava buried her face against his throat, teeth grazing his skin. “Ugh. I hate how good you are at this.”
He let out a low, breathless groan. “Yeah? You complain a lot for someone who keeps coming back.”
He rocked into her again and their eyes caught and held. John watched her with something almost wary in his eye, like he was afraid she might disappear under him, and his muscles flexed and quivered with the effort of holding himself in check. She didn’t mean to raise her hand to his face and trail her fingertips down along his jaw, over the soft curls of his beard, but when she did, something in the air shifted between them.
He whispered her name again, his thrusts slow and deep and he leaned down but not to kiss her this time. This time, their foreheads met, and their noses brushed and Ava’s chest squeezed tight. It was tender, and she didn’t do tender, but she didn’t pull away either.
She let him have this closeness, this rhythm, because when they were like this, it didn’t feel like they were pretending. It felt like the only time her body wasn’t at war with itself and she was somehow safe in his strength.
It didn’t stay soft for long. The heat between them rose, so did their urgency. She wrapped her thighs tighter around him and raked her short nails down his back, arching under him in invitation. He picked up his pace, thrusting harder, but still deep the way she liked it, the way she needed him. Sweat built up between their bodies and even past her first climax, he didn’t stop until a second, quieter one rolled through her that made her shudder and whimper his name into his skin. He let himself go then, biting her shoulder to muffle the sound, his whole body trembling as he buried himself deep and let go.
Afterwards, she lay against him, her fingers running through the soft curls on his chest.
“Five minutes, huh?” he murmured, infuriatingly smug.
“I lied,” she huffed, elbowing him hard enough to make him grunt as she climbed off him, dragging the sheet with her and leaving him in all his naked glory on the bed. She was about to gather up her clothes but he caught her hand before she could move too far from the bed.
“You ever going let this be something real?” he finally asked softly when she refused to meet his eye.
She couldn’t answer. But she couldn’t deny whatever it was between them either.
She turned back and leaned down, kissing him so gently it hurt both of them.
And then she was gone.