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The first time Darcy sees it, she doesn’t know how, but she almost misses it. Too busy digging for her cell phone in her seemingly bottomless purse. It’s just a spot of black on her periphery that she doesn’t remember seeing in the spacious garage before, so she looks up and wow was that a mistake. It’s a new Harley Davidson motorcycle that has a body reminiscent of being vintage like the one Steve has, but this is definitely not Steve’s motorcycle. It’s more intimidating somehow--all aggressive black curves and subtle chrome accents and a rolled black leather seat. It’s been expertly polished so that she catches her envious reflection in it like an obsidian mirror. Her reverie is broken by approaching footsteps. She keeps walking, she has to go do this stupid thing for Tony so he’ll give Jane a thing and honestly she doesn’t even know anymore.
The owner of this mysterious black motorcycle is revealed a few days later when she enters the garage and is greeted by the sight of a long, denim clad leg swinging out to let the kickstand down. The rider is still wearing a helmet, the kind with a pull down visor that completely covers the face, but she catches a glimpse of chrome finger tips peeking out of the black fingerless glove on his left hand as it flexes around the handlebar and knows it can only be one person.
Her mind is a loop of Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look as she makes her way down to the end of garage where the car Tony told her to take is parked because she’s not only Jane’s lab assistant but apparently the official errand runner for the entire Avengers tower but of course she can’t help herself and looks over at the exact moment the helmet is being lifted off.
And there he is. James Buchanan “Fuck Me” Barnes in all of his fuck-me-now glory. Cheeks flushed from the warmth of the helmet, signature stubbled jawline, hair pulled back into a bun with that one stupid piece falling into his eyes like it always does. He tucks the helmet under one arm while brushing the unruly strands behind his ear with his free hand. He’s staring at her with those permanent bedroom eyes. Why is he staring at her?
Oh. She forgot to keep walking. She literally stopped to gawk at him like some hormonal teenage girl. Annnd he’s starting to smirk.
Think fast Lewis, god this is embarrassing.
“Nice bike,” Darcy throws out, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, and then resumes walking faster than she had been before Mr. Distraction happened.
“Thanks, doll,” Bucky calls after her and she wants nothing more than to sink into the floor.
Darcy is having a nice quiet morning, alone in the lab, looking over some numbers, only to be startled out of her concentration by “So you wanna take her for a spin?”
“Jesus Barnes! How did you even get in here?!” Darcy sputters as she steadies herself on the lab stool. Unnaturally large, muscular enhanced super soldiers really shouldn’t be able to sneak up on people like that. She didn’t even hear any god damn footsteps and he’s wearing combat boots for Christ sake.
Bucky is leaning against the lab counter trying not to laugh at her surprised reaction. Darcy jabs her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose from where they’ve slid down.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, staring her down with those breathtaking blue eyes.
“No, Barnes, I don’t care about your stupid new bike, now go away. I need to finish processing this data before Jane gets back”.
Of course Darcy cares about Bucky’s stupid new bike; the problem is she cares too much. She would love nothing more than to fit her body snugly against his muscular form on the back of that motorcycle, and that’s exactly why she isn’t going to. Because Bucky is a bad idea. Not because of his past as a Hydra assassin, none of that was his fault and she doesn’t hold that against him. It’s because Bucky has “heartbreaker” written all over him and she’s just clumsy, mouthy lab assistant Darcy Lewis. Bucky Barnes is the kind of guy who ruins you for all other men and there is no way she wants to get involved with that. And of course all of that is aside from the obvious “don’t date your co-worker” rule, even though they don’t really work together that often, she doesn’t want to deal with any awkward “Hey we used to sleep together” situations when the world is ending which seems to happen at least once a year now.
Bucky studies Darcy intently. Watches the delicate crease form between her eyebrows the way it does when she’s confused, watches her worry at her lower lip as she tries to go back to concentrating on her work. Bucky thinks about her lips a lot actually. They’re red and full and his eyes can’t help but be drawn to them. He also thinks about running his hands through her long brown hair, he thinks about what she would look like without her chunky sweaters, he thinks about what kind of curses would fall from those cherry red lips as he buries his face between her thighs—Darcy is always surprising him with what comes out of that smart mouth.
“Stupid? That’s rich, the other day you said it was nice,” he smirks at her, letting heat seep into his voice.
“Well now I’m busy and I think it’s stupid,” Darcy retorts, not looking away from the computer screen.
“What about when you’re not busy?” Bucky pushes because he’ll be damned if he gives up that easily. There is no way he had been reading into this wrong, not after the way she had looked at him at the other day, which was really nothing but a culmination of the glances she’s been sneaking at him for the past few months. So his skills with the ladies were a little out of practice, but he has 70 years’ experience of reading people to make up for that.
“What about when I’m not busy what?” Honestly what is he getting at.
“You said you’re busy so now you think it’s stupid? So will it still be stupid when you’re not busy?” Bucky reasons matter-of-factly.
“I’m actually going to be busy all day, every day, until forever,” she sasses back.
“What if, I make it worth your while?” he propositions slyly. Darcy now turns to look at him expectantly.
“For example, I know you don’t think that pizza place on 5th is stupid. Natasha says it’s your favorite,” Bucky grins triumphantly.
Damn it, Natasha. Darcy narrows her eyes. “Are you asking me out on a dinner date, Barnes?”
“That’s the idea, doll.”
Darcy groans inwardly. She loves that pizza place. It’s like magic in a pizza; it’s fucking amazing. And as far as pizza goes, it’s not exactly cheap; they have like special magic ovens imported from Italy or something. Darcy weighs the offer carefully. Get to go for a ride on Bucky’s motorcycle? Which involves being pressed all nice and close against him? Free pizza from her favorite place? All she has to do is make it through the night without fucking his brains out so she can walk away scot free and this never has to happen again and men aren’t ruined forever. Darcy looks him over where he’s still leaning with his back against the counter next to her. Pink pouty lips, razor sharp jawline, broad shoulders, long muscular legs that looked so damn good straddling his bike the other day. Yeah sure, she can totally make it through the night without sleeping with him. Do it for the pizza, her stomach convinces her.
“You’ve got yourself a date, Barnes”.
It’s Friday night. The day they had agreed upon for their date. Darcy is nervously rifling through her closet for an outfit. The motorcycle eliminates the possibility of any dresses or skirts so she settles for a pair of dark wash jeans tucked into ankle boots and a simple crimson fitted tee. Well it’s not supposed to be fitted but everything she wears that isn’t a sweater manages to end up being fitted. She smooths over her clothes anxiously while checking herself over in the mirror.
What if the date goes well? What if he wants a second date? What if she wants a second date? I’m only in this for the pizza, the rational part of her brain reminds her and that anything more is just going to end with tears and ice cream. However, the less rational part of her brain has her wearing a matching black silk and lace trimmed bra and panties under her clothes. Sighing, she grabs her purse and heads down to the front of the tower where he said to meet him.
Darcy’s breath catches in her throat when she steps out of the main entrance because god damn he looks like something out of a movie. He’s leaning easily against the motorcycle and looking off into the distance dressed in blue jeans, a black v neck that reveals the hollow of his throat and his collar bones—when did collar bones become sexy?—and a black leather jacket to top it all off. His long hair is effortlessly slicked back and parted to the side. There’s still stubble lining his jaw but it’s lighter than usual.
Hearing soft hum of the automatic doors sliding open, Bucky turns his head to see Darcy walking towards him. She’s absolutely stunning. He can feel his mouth watering at the sight of all those delicious curves coming towards him. Vaguely, he entertains the thought of sneaking into her closet and hiding all of her thick sweaters in scattered places around the tower.
“Hey,” she offers more shyly than she intended. If Darcy Lewis is anything, it is most definitely not shy.
“You look lovely, Darcy”, Bucky says seductively, in that kind of voice that makes ladies blush.
She tries to ignore the little flip flop of glee her stomach does when he says her name.
“You clean up pretty well yourself, Barnes.” Calling him by his last name, still keeps a certain amount of distance between them she reasons. And it doesn’t feel right calling him Bucky when the only times she has so far are when she’s getting off thinking about him.
“You ready for this, doll?”
“Psssht, I was born ready.”
Bucky swings one long, toned leg gracefully over the seat of the motorcycle. She’s mildly surprised when he doesn’t offer her a helmet and doesn’t don one himself.
“Not gonna make me wear a helmet, Barnes?” Darcy teases.
“You’re safe with me sweetheart,” Bucky assures her. Bucky technically doesn’t even need a helmet, the only reason he even has one is because he still deals with little bouts of paranoia and going out for a ride with the helmet gives him a chance to get out of the tower and sort his thoughts while remaining anonymous.
Darcy tries to mimic the grace with which Bucky had mounted the bike. Once seated behind him, she scoots closer so that their thighs are flush against each other, feeling her stomach do another gleeful flip flop in response. She then wraps her arms around his waist, clasping her hands together in the front to keep herself from feeling up his sculpted abs through his t-shirt in the space left by his unzipped jacket. Bucky is impossibly firm beneath her and she can feel the heat he’s throwing off dimly even through the leather jacket he’s wearing. He smells dark and earthy, like cloves with a hint of freshly polished leather. She resists the urge to bury her face in his neck as she perches her chin on his shoulder.
“This good, Sarge?” Darcy asks, breath brushing against his ear due to their close proximity.
Bucky has to bite his lip to keep from groaning. His cock already twitching in his jeans from having Darcy’s lush curves pressed against him. And the way his former title rolls teasingly off of her lips has his blood running hot.
“Yeah, doll, just fine,” he manages to get out.
And then the bike is rumbling to life beneath them.
Darcy only manages to stifle half of a moan at the warm thrumming sensation of the engine beneath her because damn, this is even better than her best vibrator; the other half of her moan is thankfully swallowed by the roar of the engine.
The thrumming starts at her core and travels up her spine, branching out languidly to the rest of her body until she’s humming pleasantly all over. Her body touching Bucky’s is like being pressed against an electric fence, sparking up the surface of her skin until she idly wonders if this what it feels like to catch fire.She holds Bucky tighter as he starts accelerating, maneuvering the large bike skillfully out of the driveway and into traffic. When they make an especially sharp turn, she can’t help but instinctively lean into him and she can feel the muscles of his abdomen contract and relax as he subtly shifts his weight to keep the bike upright.
The ride is over soon enough as Bucky pulls up curbside in front of the restaurant and kills the engine. Darcy is loose limbed and light headed as she scoots back in the seat, swinging a leg over the back of the bike to dismount. It’s only been like 10 seconds and her thighs already feel empty without Bucky between them.
Bucky’s jeans are already more than a little uncomfortable by the time they pull up to the restaurant. With Darcy wrapped so tight around him, it made him wonder what other kinds of ways she could be tight around him and he has to think about cold showers, puppies, hell anything besides how good Darcy feels against him to keep himself from having a raging hard on. He dismounts the bike to join Darcy on the sidewalk; that clever smile he loves so much gracing her full mouth.
“Ok, so I take it back Barnes, your bike isn’t stupid”.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”
Of course, Bucky is a complete gentleman during the date; opening the door, pulling out her chair, ordering her favorite bottle of wine—she supposes that’s something else Natasha told him. And the date goes really well; playful banter flows naturally between them, they laugh, Bucky’s eyes widen in response to Darcy’s appreciative moans of pizza eating, she leans in across the table a little closer with each glass of wine she has, and in seemingly no time at all the waiter is politely informing them that the restaurant will soon be past closing. That brings her attention all too late to the fact that one of her hands became entwined with Bucky’s sometime during the evening. He notices at the same time she does and a heavy silence forms between them, each one intently trying to read the other’s gaze.
The moment is broken when the waiter brings the check and Bucky withdraws his hand so he can pull out his wallet.
“What is it Darce?” Bucky asks softly after the waiter departs.
Darcy shrugs nonchalantly. She’s had a crush on Bucky for a while now and really who doesn’t, the guy is smokin’ hot, but she might be a little late in admitting to herself that it’s more than a physical infatuation. She likes the way he calls her doll, well he calls most girls doll, but she wants to be his only doll. She likes the way his eyes seem to light up when he looks at her. She admires him for everything he’s been through, and she wants him to have something good because damn it, he deserves it, but she doesn’t know if she’s good enough to be that because she’s pretty fucked up herself, lacking direction, just trying to figure out life one lab accident at a time, and when did deadly super assassins ever fall for the snarky lab assistant?
“Why aren’t you dating someone like Natasha?” And it’s out of Darcy’s mouth before she can really process it.
Bucky raises an eyebrow in response. Why isn’t he dating someone like Natasha? He loves Natasha in a certain way. She perhaps can relate the most to what he went through with Hydra after being in the Red Room. But Darcy makes him laugh, Darcy makes him forget his past even if it’s only for fleeting moments, Darcy makes him feel warm in a way he hasn’t really felt after spending years in and out of cryo freeze.
“How do you mean doll?”
“Well like shouldn’t deadly, beautiful, mysterious super assassins date each other?” She cringes internally at calling him assassin, like he needs to be reminded of his past.
Bucky doesn’t mind though, he likes that she doesn’t walk on eggshells around him like everyone else.
“You’re deadly. You’re beautiful. You’re mysterious.” Bucky lists off, leaning back casually against the booth.
“Oh yeah Barnes?” Darcy arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Deadly? Maybe when she’s armed with a taser. Beautiful? Okay she’s not an idiot, she knows her voluptuous form has the ability to drive men crazy. Mysterious? Darcy I-say-everything-that-comes-to-mind-with-no-filter Lewis? Most definitely not.
“Yeah. You kill me with that smart mouth of yours, you look amazing, no really, don’t you roll your eyes at me Lewis, and there’s still alot I don’t know about you,” Bucky throws back at her skillfully.
At this point, the waiter conveniently returns with Bucky’s credit card and wishes them a good night. Darcy has more than a few butterflies in her stomach fluttering around after Bucky’s answer.
“Come on, let’s get out of here” he grins reassuringly, offering his hand to help her up from the table. She accepts, leaning into him easily as she realizes she’s a little more tipsy than she thought.
Darcy spends the ride back lost in her own jumbled thoughts. She can’t ignore the way it just feels right being pressed against Bucky, the way his hard muscles and the defined, long, lean lines of his body are made for her soft, abundant curves.
Her thoughts come to a crashing halt when the bike comes to rest in the garage. Bucky kills the engine, leaving a void of silence, so that the only sound is that of her breath suddenly too loud in her own ears. And even though the bike is off, and they’ve both taken their feet off the motorcycle pegs and set them on the floor of the garage, Darcy hasn’t let go of Bucky. She doesn’t want to let go. She wants to feel every inch of his skin, sliding against hers, putting out the flames of the fire that he’s been fanning all evening with that god damn vintage charm and come hither blue eyes. She trails one hand from his waist down to brush lightly along his thigh, while the other hand stays at his waist and slips into the opening of his leather jacket to stroke the ridges of his abdomen through the cotton of his shirt.
“Darcy,” it comes out as a broken kind of whisper, because it’s been so long since anyone has touched him so simply, so intimately, it has his heart hammering in his chest, still gripping the handlebars of his bike because it’s the only thing grounding him in reality. But then Darcy says his name, not "Barnes", no she says his name “Bucky” for what he thinks must be the first time and it sounds so sweet, that he lets go of the handlebars and covers her hands with his, pressing them firmly into his body as if he’s trying to etch the feeling of her touch into his permanently scattered memories.
Darcy’s chin is perched on his shoulder and he turns his head to meet her stormy blue eyes, before their lips meet in a messy clash of teeth and awkward bump of noses because this angle is all wrong for kissing but that doesn’t change the fact that Bucky’s lips moving skillfully over hers has her sighing into his mouth and their tongues brush together all too briefly before Darcy is pulling away because she wants to kiss him properly.
Bucky can only watch her intently with hooded eyes from over his shoulder as Darcy gets off the bike only to stand in front of him. Places her small hands on his broad shoulders. And swings one leg over his Harley in the most deliberately sensual way that has him reaching for her waist to help her roughly into his lap, thighs bracketing over his as their lower halves fit together.
Darcy fists a hand in his shirt and pulls their faces together in a searing open mouthed kiss. Bucky kisses her like a man starved, skillfully sliding his tongue against hers, desperate to somehow taste all of her at once. His metal hand rests on her lower back to support her while his flesh and bone hand cups her full ass. Groaning as Darcy runs a hand through his hair, bringing it to rest on the back of his neck. He nips at her full bottom lip causing her to grind down against him so that they’re both pulling away breathless and needy.
Darcy pushes Bucky’s leather jacket off his broad shoulders and down his defined arms urgently until it hits the garage floor, his metal arm gleaming beautifully in the harsh light of the garage. His hands come to rest at her waist.
“Darcy, you sure you want to do this here, doll?” And he does have a point, even though it is the middle of night, any of the other residents could still walk into the garage, not to mention it’s obviously monitored by Tony’s surveillance cameras like the rest of the tower. But Darcy has never been more sure of anything in her life. Fuck Tony’s surveillance, fuck anyone that might wander in, at least they’ll be getting a good show.
“Yes, Bucky, I need you,” she says burying her face in his neck to place open mouthed kisses along those perfectly defined collarbones and in the hollow of throat, up along his jawline to show him just how much she needs this, how much she wants as Bucky tangles a hand in her long brown hair, grinding his hips into hers so she can feel how hard he is against her core. She pulls away because there are too many layers between them, these pants need to get themselves lost like asap.
She climbs off him hurriedly, toeing off her ankle boots, and shimmying off her tight jeans. And if her panties weren’t black, she’s positive a wet spot would be visible. She leaves her shirt on out of some fucked up sense of modesty in her lust fogged brain in case any one does wander in.
Bucky bites his lip, moaning lowly at the sight of Darcy’s little black lacy excuse for panties. He’s so hard it hurts, and he can feel the tip of his cock getting wet. He thinks about unzipping his jeans and stroking himself while watching Darcy undress but he doesn’t. He’s not some kind of sex starved pervert. Well he is. But that doesn’t mean he has to act like one.
Darcy climbs back into his lap and Jesus he can feel how hot her pussy is even through her flimsy panties and his jeans. Bucky wastes no time in leaning her back over the body of the motorcycle, his metal hand splayed between her shoulder blades for support, and he pauses just to drink in the sight of her, she looks like one of those old pin up drawings he used to look at in the 40s all rosy cheeked and wanting spread out on his Harley. But he can’t wait any longer, he has to touch her, flesh hand slipping her panties aside to stroke her folds, and he tries not to come in his pants when he feels how slick she is.
“Fuck, Darcy, you’re so wet, sweetheart” he curses.
Darcy doesn't respond because she's floating blissfully in the realm of incoherence, sighing and gasping as Bucky's fingers explore her expertly. Two thick, lightly calloused fingers slide into her embarrassingly easily. Bucky begins fucking them into her earnestly, ready to give her everything she so clearly needs. They curl and twist inside her, finding the spot that has her seeing stars with ease. Bucky's leaning over her, lavishing kisses along her throat, down into the cleft of her ample cleavage. She bucks her hips against his hand, trying to get more. He obliges, adding a third finger. His thumb brushes lightly against her clit. His voice is low and brimming with need against the shell of her ear.
"I want you to come for me, sweetheart. I can feel you, doll. Can feel how close you are.”
“Bucky” she keens. His thumb circles confidently over her clit and the fingers inside her curl especially hard causing her to clench and spasm, soaring over the edge of her orgasm, shuddering out high pitched noises, raking a hand roughly through Bucky’s hair. Bucky strokes her through it, murmuring encouragements and kisses against her neck.
“Just like that, so good Darce, so sweet for me.”
He doesn’t withdraw his fingers until her breathing evens out and she opens her eyes lazily to the sight of Bucky licking his fingers clean of her. The metal hand still splayed between her shoulder blades lifts her gently upright. They kiss languidly now, savoring each slide and tilt of their lips against each other. An unusual thrill runs through Darcy as she tastes herself on his tongue.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?” Darcy whines against his mouth, rucking up his black t-shirt. Bucky pulls away to lift the offending garment over his head. Darcy’s eyes roam his muscled form shamelessly, biting her lip when her eyes fall to the obscenely large bulge in his jeans.
“Looks like you could use some help, Sarge,” she teases, trailing a hand down his defined chest and over the smooth sculpture of his abs, noticing how his muscles tremble lightly under her touch.
“Darcy,” Bucky pines as her small hand slips into his boxers and pulls out his neglected cock.
She swipes her thumb over the moisture leaking out of the swollen tip and smooths it down the shaft. Bucky is long and heavy in her hand and she feels her pussy getting wet again even though she’s still soaked from her orgasm. She glances back up to his face, disheveled hair, head thrown back, chest heaving. She gets an overwhelming sense of power being able to tear him down like this to just pure and basic want.
Darcy’s calves have been dangling over the back of Bucky’s thighs. She steadies herself with a hand on Bucky’s shoulder as she folds her legs up and back bringing her ankles to rest on the body of the bike behind her with her thighs still straddling his. Darcy is awed by the way his muscular thighs support her full weight like she’s nothing. She uses the leverage she has on his shoulder to push herself up. Bucky has his flesh hand on her waist and uses his metal hand to deftly move her panties to the side so she can slip down on to his cock. He stares at her with blown out pupils, her other hand wrapped around the base of his cock as she guides herself on to his length.
She sinks down slowly, savoring every inch his cock stretches her. It takes every ounce of willpower Bucky possesses to keep from thrusting up into her, she’s so tight. Even after she just came, she’s so tight. They groan loudly in unison once she’s fully seated on his cock. She has both hands on his shoulders now. Pushing herself up slowly halfway up his cock before sliding back down again. Their faces are pressed together, cheek to cheek as she sets a steady rhythm, rolling her hips, riding him for all he’s worth.
“Darce, I’m not gonna last long, doll,” Bucky confesses, burying his face into her shoulder, gripping her hips tensely.
“Me either” she slurs, feeling another orgasm already building within her. Bucky has been mostly still so far, afraid of being too rough with Darcy wrapped like a vice around him and he knows he’s not small but that has Bucky rolling his hips up in time to meet hers. His cock hits deeper inside her, causing Darcy to cry out at the unexpected sensation of complete fullness. For a moment Bucky’s worried that he hurt her, stilling his hips for all of half a second until he hears her moan “Fuck, yes, so good”.
Bucky’s so close to the edge, but he wants to feel her clench around his cock like she did around his fingers. He continues rolling his hips up sharply into hers, and snakes his metal hand between them and underneath the waistband of her panties to rub against her clit. The cool shock of metal against her clit added to the smooth slide of his cock against her inner most walls, the tip brushing against a place inside her she wasn’t sure she knew existed until now has Darcy tensing up in the most delicious way. She’s almost afraid of how hard she’s going to come, like what if she’s the first person to spontaneously combust while having an orgasm? She slides against him two, three more times before she’s coming a second time, drowning in waves of undiluted pleasure that rack her body.
His name is raw and pure on her lips as she cries out her pleasure, nails biting red half crescent moons into the skin of his shoulders and the sharp vice of her orgasm has him finally finding his release, coming so hard all he can hear is the flow of blood in his ears and he’s seeing stars behind his eyes. They remain tangled together in the aftermath of passion, breath and senses returning slowly in equal measure. Darcy isn’t really capable of moving so Bucky lifts her nimbly off of him and she is capable of at least extracting her ankles from their uncomfortable position behind her. They set about picking up discarded articles of clothing.
Once they’re fully clothed, Bucky throws an arm around Darcy’s shoulder and they walk together towards the elevator. Bucky is wondering what an appropriate good bye is after sex on the first date; dating in these modern times just doesn’t make any sense. Darcy makes it a lot easier for him however when she asks, “So…are we going back to my room or yours?”