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moonknightly · 3 years

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now all you see is red : santiago garcia x reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

Excerpt: “There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.”

Warnings: Smut (18+), choking, spanking, light bondage, dom/sub dynamic, light degradation/humiliation, rough sex, angry sex, dirty talk

Santiago is familiar with anger.

He knows it well, he’s used to the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, the smoke he can never fully push from his lungs, the way flames lick at his fingertips as his blood boils in his veins. He’s used to the sharp bite and unrelenting sting, he knows the exact sound his fist is going to make when it meets drywall, can hear each bone crack on impact and can feel the sensation of his knuckles splitting open, can visualize the black and blue bruises that will mark his skin for weeks to come.

They might as well be permanent, he never feels like himself without those damn bruises anymore. They’ve become an integral part of him, just like the scar on the back of his neck and the weight he carries on his shoulders day in and day out.

Just like his anger.

He needs it, he doesn’t remember how to get through without it. Anger isn’t a stranger to the ex soldier, but a lover.

It’s a dance so intimate, one he’s performed thousands and thousands of times before. It keeps him grounded, reminds him that he’s real, that he’s here. He’s alive and he’s breathing, he’s not lying at the bottom of a ditch in a foreign country with a bullet in his side, rotting. He made it out, he’s earned his temper.

He’s in control. He has the power, and nothing is going to hurt him again. He won’t let it.

Except, that’s not entirely true.

There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.

And you have, you so have. You’ve fucking wrecked him, but he refuses to let you see it, he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. In all of the years you’ve known each other, Santi’s been able to keep that little secret to himself, and he’s not about to give it up now, he doesn’t need that shit.

What he needs is the control back in the palm of his hand after losing it for the last week. He needs to feel some sense of power after spending seven days in unfamiliar territory, feeling utterly torn apart by grief and worry.

They’d lost contact with you on your last assignment, and an entire week had gone by without so much as a word until you suddenly showed up at base, seemingly fine. Santi hadn’t been able to find even a scratch on your perfect skin, and he’d checked several times just to be sure. You’re fine.

But Santi isn’t. Fuck, he is so fucking far from fine, he feels like he’s going to be sick. His initial relief is fading fast, threatening to turn into something that he has no desire to feel, something he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t need it.

He needs his control, his power. He needs familiarity.

So he latches onto the subtlest spark of anger the moment it strikes. He takes it and he fucking runs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

His voice is eerily calm, almost chilling and it doesn’t waiver for even a second. It’s collected while the rest of him isn’t, but it’s enough to get him through. It’ll do.

“What do you mean?”

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, unlacing your boots, desperate to get out of them and into something comfortable. Santi keeps his eyes glued to you, tracking your every movement with expert precision that he’s spent his entire life mastering.

“A week. You went a fucking week without report.”

You seem almost annoyed, and really, you are — you’d spent the last hour getting the same lecture from your boss, you don’t need it from your boyfriend too even though it’s inevitable, so you shrug in response, and Santiago feels another white hot flash.

It’s perfect. He’ll take it.

“It would’ve compromised the mission, he was onto me. I’m fine.”

You’re fine. He laughs bitterly at that.

“I’m glad you’re fine, princesa,” he hums, not thinking about how he enunciates his words as he stalks towards you, painstakingly slow, brown eyes never straying from his target.

He’s quick, his reflexes sharp, and he has your chin between his fingers before you even register his hand moving.

“But that’s not a fucking excuse. You know your safety comes before anything else and we had no way to help you.”

“But I was safe.”

“But how were we supposed to know that, huh?” He shakes your head in his grip, like it’s enough to get you to see his way. “You could’ve been dead for all we knew. Do you have any idea what-”

He stops himself. That unfamiliar emotion is bubbling in the pit of his stomach again, and he pushes it away, down, down, down where it can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.

He needs another spark.

But now, he’s struggling to find it, and it’s clear. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him wrestle with himself and hesitate, and he panics when your lips part because he knows you’re getting ready to ask him if he’s okay and he doesn’t fucking want you to. He doesn’t want to answer you.

So he just growls again, his hand moving to the back of your neck where he pushes your head forward until your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s all teeth and desperation and frustration and just like your annoyance, it’s perfect. Santi clings to that frustration to fuel his anger again, and he’s satisfied when it works and he feels the familiar tendrils of rage wrap themselves around his body. His free hand moves to your shirt, and he uses his grip to haul you to your feet only to shove you towards the dresser. You catch yourself, knocking a few things off in the process but you don’t care. You love it when he gets like this.

“Santi-”

“No.” He’s behind you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so your neck is perfectly exposed to him, breath hot against your skin. “Don’t you dare say a fuckin’ word, understand?”

You nod obediently — you’ve always taken orders as well as he gives him.

“Good girl.”

He nips at your neck once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth in, biting down, marking you and he smirks when he feels your knees buckle just slightly. You’re struggling to hold yourself up already and he’s hardly touched you.

His hand travels around to the front of your neck and he wraps his fingers around your throat, not applying any pressure, simply just holding them there. He feels your pulse thrum under his fingertips and he counts along for a moment, smirking at just how quick your heart is beating.

“Nervous baby?”

You hesitate, and he feels you gulp, feels the way you shift just slightly under his touch.

“No.”

He tsks, sighing in your ear almost disapprovingly. He lets his grip tighten around your throat, and he revels in the sound of you trying to pull in air before he cuts you off completely.

“Maybe you should be.”

His free hand slams between your shoulder blades and you’re suddenly flat against the dresser, the force of it knocking what little air you had left in your lungs out. He gives you a second, just a second to use your safeword or to tell him to go a little easy, but you don’t.

He knows you’ll tell him if he needs to take it down a notch.

There’s nothing slow or patient about Santiago’s touch. It’s urgent, each movement made with purpose, never lingering, he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to feel you, just wants to feel that anger and the pleasure and nothing else.

He pulls your jeans down your thighs, not bothering to get them all the way off or worry about your shirt. His eyes are immediately on your ass, and he growls when he sees that you’re wearing his favorite color — red. He loves you in red.

Not enough to save the panties for another day though. He rips them clean off your body, the stretching, tearing sound of fabric making him groan alongside your gasp.

“Open your mouth.”

You don’t hear him the first time, too absorbed in the feeling running through you. He smacks your ass, hard, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. The moan that leaves your lips might just be the most sinful sound Santi has ever heard.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

This time, you hear him, and you obey just like he knew you would, opening your mouth for him to stuff your panties into.

“Fuck I can smell you on them from here princesa.”

He loves it. He loves it so fucking much. He smacks your ass a second time, feeling it turn hot under his touch, then he does it again and again and again until he’s satisfied with the way you flinch, until you’re laying limp against the dresser with tears running down your cheeks.

“Color?”

Like he said before, your safety means more to him than anything else, and through his anger he still always checks in to make sure you’re okay to continue. He never wants it to get to a point where he actually hurts you, even though he knows what your body can take, even though he knows you’d let him, you’d even ask him to.

You can’t speak with your panties in your mouth, but one finger means green, two means yellow, and three means red. You hold up one, and he lands one final blow just to see if your answer changes. You still only hold up one.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your wrists and drags you back towards the mattress, and you immediately fall face down ass up just how you know he likes, but now he hesitates.

His knees are bothering him today, more so than usual, and he doesn’t know if he can kneel behind you long enough to fuck you how he wants to.

That only makes him angrier, feeling like he can’t perform. Feeling like he’s not good enough, like he’s failing in a field where he’s always personally felt like he’s excelled.

All he sees is red and you and it’s the exact distraction he’s been looking for, the perfect combination. His blood burns, his fingers burn, his mind is fucking screaming your name and nothing else. There’s nothing but you and the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s intoxicating, it’s everything, it’s familiar.

“No, no no,” he laughs, shaking his head as he undoes his belt, hastily pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “On your side, hands behind your back.”

He’s on you the second you're in position, tightening his belt around your wrists so you can’t move them, can’t touch him. He chuckles darkly when your fingers wiggle around in search of something to hold onto.

“Poor baby,” he hums, voice completely condescending and he loves the way your eyes roll at the tone of his voice. He loves that you get off on this just as much as he does, he loves that you dance with his temper, that you know it almost as well.

He’s so fucking hard. He can’t wait any longer.

He doesn’t check with his fingers to make sure you’re wet enough to take him, he knows you are. He can smell you, he can see your juices glisten when he hoists your leg up to reveal your pussy to him. You’re always so wet, always so ready for him.

And he’s more than ready for you, stroking himself in the palm of his hand while he looks you over with hungry, dark eyes. His hand is nothing compared to the warmth and pleasure he knows you’ll bring him, there’s not a damn thing in this world that can make him come as hard as you.

He lays behind you, continuing to pump his length as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit and smearing his precome all around. He can feel you clench, can feel you try to pull him in as you start rocking your hips against him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fuckin’ whore for my cock babygirl. You need it, huh? You need me?”

You immediately start trying to beg through your makeshift gag and normally, that would only earn you more teasing but just like you, he can’t take it. He needs you just as much, if not more.

His nails dig into your left hip as he pushes himself against your entrance, leaving little crescent shaped indents in your skin, his grip so tight you both know it’ll bruise but it’s more than fine, it’s so good. He stops, wanting to drag it out for just a moment longer and your begging only continues, growing louder and louder until Santiago finally gives in.

All it takes is one sharp thrust and he’s so deep inside of you, spreading you open on his cock, tearing your walls apart to make room for his length, your bodies flush against each other. His free arm is wrapped underneath your body, his hand finding your neck again as he quickly sets his pace, not giving you more than a single second to even attempt to adjust to him.

It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s dirty and your cunt is squelching around him so deliciously, the sound only pushing him further — he doesn’t know if he wants to slow down so he can listen to it properly or if he wants to go faster.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your ear, his voice gravely and rough and he thrills in the way it makes you shiver. “Fuck you’re so tight, you’re squeezing my fucking dick baby. How’re you this tight?”

You only let out a moan that’s somewhere between a sob and a scream, and that sound alone is so entirely hot in itself, it’s enough to make his toes curl. He wants to pull that noise from you again and again and again, he wants you shaking and gasping and writhing. He starts using your hips for more leverage, knowing that he can get you to cry and whine for him this way.

You squirm and jolt each time he brings you back onto his cock, every time he hits that spot you didn’t believe existed until he fucked you for the first time and he wants to explode as he watches you struggle to take it.

He knows you’ll hold up your fingers if you need him to stop, but he still pulls your panties out of your mouth just so he can hear it, just so can listen for your words. You never say them, you only scream and cry and moan about how good it feels, how he’s pounding your pussy better than anyone ever has and how you never want him to stop.

“Yeah baby?” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe, tugging on it as he thrusts harder and harder. “This my pussy princesa? Tell me.”

“It’s yours,” you sob, clenching around him over and over. “God Santi, it’s yours, I’m yours.”

“That’s fuckin’ right baby, that’s it.”

He tightens his grip around your neck, his left hand moving from your hip to your clit, fingers matching the pace of his thrusts. He’s rubbing you so hard, he’s almost surprised when you angle yourself closer, but that’s his girl. That’s his fucking girl.

Santi can tell you’re close when your sounds grow higher in pitch and when he no longer needs to drag you back into his thrusts — you’re doing all the work for him, moving on your own accord, searching for that last little push you need to get over the edge and he lets you.

He lets you control the pace, lets you take what you need and that’s when that unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling enters his stomach again. He tries to ignore it, tries to push it away, tries to tap back into the anger but once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Now he’s just frustrated, but he doesn’t let himself get distracted, not when you’re on his cock, bringing yourself closer and closer to an orgasm he doesn’t want to miss a second of.

He rolls onto his back suddenly, catching you off guard but he steadies you on top of him and uses your bound wrists to continue rocking you on his length while you get adjusted again. He brings his free hand back to your clit, just like before and it’s not long before you’re right on the brink of coming again. Santi’s right there with you, watching you roll your hips and bounce on his cock, impaling yourself on him again and again. You’re so full of him, he only wants to fill you more.

He thinks he might actually let go first, but then you’re falling apart on top of him in a matter of seconds, sobbing his name so loudly while your thighs quiver and your body trembles. That’s what finally does it for him, and he comes inside of you with a deep groan that echoes in his chest, his back arching completely off the bed in an attempt to get even closer to you. He quickly grabs your hips again so he can continue to piston himself up into you, watching your combined release leak out of your pussy and coat his cock in glistening white. He only moans, quieter this time, and fucks it back into you, his pace slowing as his cock twitches over and over and quickly becomes oversensitive.

He doesn’t forget to undo your hands before he pulls you back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face into your neck. He’s working hard to catch his breath, and he hopes that that’s all you think he’s doing when really, he’s having to put twice as much effort into not falling apart.

His chest is heaving with emotion, his eyes are filling with tears that he refuses to let spill over. His anger is completely gone and only this remains. He doesn’t know how to control it, doesn’t know what to do with it and he hates it. He hates it so much.

And you notice, of course you fucking notice. He’s slow to launch into aftercare and it’s obvious that he’s distracted through it, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Santi, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t fucking call.”

His voice waivers and cracks and his cheeks immediately turn red, though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or this feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“What if something happened to you? You didn’t call.”

“Santi,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, and he’s frustrated all over again. Usually he’s so good at reading you, he knows you like the back of his hand, but again he’s unsure about the emotion. He doesn’t know if you’re exasperated or if you’re concerned. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“You have any idea what was going through my head,” he bites, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t see the expression on your face, doesn’t see how his words hit you right in the chest and shatter your heart. He misses the way you swallow the lump in your throat and he doesn’t see your hands start to shake, but he feels them when they cup his cheeks. His shoulders slump at the contact, and then Santi just breaks.

“You didn’t fucking call, why didn’t you fucking call?”

He chokes on a sob, coughing to try and rid himself of it but it doesn’t work. He hides his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he softly cries and he’s just happy that he’s able to keep himself quiet.

“Oh sweet boy, come here.”

Santi let’s you pull him into your arms, he lets you comfort him in a way he didn’t know he needed, in a way he never even imagined wanting.

And he lets himself feel all of that unwanted emotion, because he needs to get it the fuck out. He doesn’t want to hold onto it like he does with his anger, he doesn’t want it dancing in his veins. He never, ever wants to feel this way again.

Santiago is familiar with anger.

But he’s completely unfamiliar with the fear of losing you. He’s not used to the nausea or the way his hands shake with panic, the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He’s not used to any of it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

But at some point in the middle of the night, he looks up and he sees you, still holding him, still comforting him, and it suddenly hits. Suddenly, he understands.

It’s you.

This is how you’ve ruined him.

You’ve made him feel things he’s been pushing away for so long, things he’s tried so desperately to keep under lock and key where it can never hurt him.

You’ve stripped him of his control, his power. You’ve taken away his anger and you’ve replaced the throbbing bruises on his knuckles, the smoke in his lungs and the blood that paints his vision.

He doesn’t see red, he only sees you.

Santiago is familiar with you.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

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Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Nineteen)

MASTERLIST

********************

Wanda and Pietro made it back to the hotel room first, and per the instructions put in place before the ball, Natalia and Tony arrived almost half an hour later, sweeping up the stairs to their room with smiles and quiet laughter and looking for all the world as if they’d had the time of their life at the party. Or rather, Tony was smiling and trying to laugh. Natalia was practically shaking with rage, her face pale and eyes brittle and when Tony unlocked the door to their suite, he warned through gritted teeth-- “Wait until we get through the living area and into the far bedroom before you start yelling, please. We’ve made it this far, do not ruin the evening by making a scene in the hallway.” Natalia’s lips thinned to an angry line and Tony set his jaw. “Natalia--” “It irritates me that you feel the need to coach my behavior.” she hissed and Tony retorted, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have spent the carriage ride screaming and cursing in about six different languages over the staggering incompetence of your brother and the men you love!”

“They threw a guard over the balcony and--!” Talia started to shout but Tony shoved open the suite door and gave the furious redhead a sharp swat on the rear to startle her through and into the living room. “Antonio! How dare you!” “I’m well aware that Samuel and Ronin will cut my hand off for touching you, and if they don’t do it, you just might.” Tony shut and locked the door and tossed the key onto the buffet. “But this is as close to out of control I’ve ever seen you, and if you are going to explode, you’re going to do it where it won’t put us in any more danger, do you understand?” Natalia opened her mouth as if to reply, then shut it with a click, closing her eyes and clenching her fists and forcing a slow breath through her nose. Tony waited with narrowed eyes until Natalia finally nodded and said, “How far we’ve come, Antonio, that you are the one taking steps to calm me down instead of my having to bring you around to the moment, hm?” “How far we’ve come.” Tony repeated, still watching Natalia carefully. “Are you alright? I know tonight didn’t go as planned, and the body over the balcony was a surprise to us all, but you’re angry because of something else. What happened? Why are you so upset?” “I--” Natalia took another one of those slow breaths and blinked a few times. “I’d forgotten how difficult it is to pretend so much. To stand in a room full of people I hate and act as if I don’t notice the sneers and the stares.” Natalia wet her lips and sighed. “The Lord Kirillovich is the one who was directly responsible for my Da’s hanging. He pushed the conviction through far faster than the courts would usually allow, and there was no more than ninety days between Da being dragged from the house and him swinging in the palace courtyards.” “I thought you were happy to see your Da out of your life.” “That doesn’t mean I can stomach begging for help from the man who made it happen.” she snapped. “Having to play at needing him when I’d much rather put my knife in his gut? And having to watch all those men gawking at Wanda, bozhe moy she is a child and they are panting after her as if-- as if--” Natalia crossed to the in room bar and poured herself a measure of scotch, stared down at the glass, and took a drink directly from the bottle instead. “And Pietro with a gun in his belt, acting a man when I am still the one to fold his clothing from the wash. They are children, Antonio. And tonight they saw a man be thrown to his death from the third floor of the palace. They saw Ronin almost die in some half-cocked acrobatic stunt and I have no idea where James and Samuel are--” She swayed on her feet and Tony leaped forward to catch her when she stumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist and putting his other hand at her forehead. “Talia, you’re warm. Are you alright?” “I’m fine.” she muttered. “I just need a drink and to get this blasted corset off. I can’t breathe. Haven’t been able to breathe all night. Help me to the couch, Antonio. Please.” “Come on, then.” Tony led Natalia to the couch and took the alcohol from her hands to exchange it for a glass of water. Once she was settled, he sat behind her and began working at the fastens of her dress, undoing the tiny buttons one by one until the crisp fabric fell away from her back. Natalia set her water aside and yanked the feathers from her hair, tossing them away before tugging at the dozen or so pins it had taken to create the ornate styling she’d worn to the ball. Each pin plinked onto the tableside, the only noise in the room beside the rasp of ribbon as it pulled through the notches on her corset. “It’s a shame Wanda didn’t get to dance more in her gown.” Natalia finally said after several minutes. “This might be the only chance she has to attend a real ball, and the evening was cut so short. Pietro, as well. He might not have screamed over his new suit like Wanda did when you bought her that dress, but he was just as excited. They’ve had so little in life, it's too bad that they are afforded even less by being part of our family.” “Afforded even less, is that what you think?” Tony loosened the next loops of ribbon and Talia breathed in a shaky, relieved sigh when the pressure around her rib cage eased. “You think their lives are worse because Ronin brought them to the manor?” “No child should be raised in a family where at any given minute, their entire world can come to an end because of the choices made long before they were around.” Natalia gasped in another breath when Tony got to the bottom of her corset and pushed it open enough that it was no longer binding at her waist. “Oh, I forgot how terrible these are. I haven’t had to wear a corset in years, Ronin and Samuel prefer me to wear nearly nothing beneath my dresses.” “I’m sure they do.” Tony said dryly, and reached for a blanket to put over Talia’s shoulders since her gown was gapping in the front now. “Wanda and Pietro are lucky to be apart of this family, Talia. Why would you think anything different?” “They are children.” Natalia insisted “They deserve a softer life than this.” Tony paused mid step to pour himself a drink. “...What are you trying to say?” “I was thirteen the first time I saw a man die.” Talia leaned back into the couch and rubbed at her arms as if she were cold. “My Da had a friend over for dinner, and when he stood to get more wine, the friend made a comment towards me that justified my Da shooting him through the forehead.” Tony recoiled in shock and Natalia’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “That was the day Da learned I had grown up enough to be used for more than smuggling letters in my purse when we traveled. I got my very first corset the next week, and for my fifteenth birthday, I seduced a man at my party and stole his secrets. Many happy returns.” “Christ.” Tony’s hand shook a little around his drink. “And where was James?” “Off in the states falling in love with some farm raised soldier with pretty blue eyes.” Natalia snorted. “Mama passed when I was nearly twelve, James left shortly after, and Da decided I needed to carry my weight in the family business.” Tony swirled the alcohol in the glass a few times before saying, “Talia. Wanda isn’t fifteen, she’s nearly twenty. And Pietro is not James, running off to do battle because he is trying to hide his broken heart in bloodshed.” “No, Wanda isn’t fifteen.” Natalia agreed. “But those men look at her the way they look at me. And Pietro isn’t James, but he saw his entire village burned down and his friends and family killed. Now he is living with two of the most dangerous men in the Sokovian revolution, both of whom answer to my brother, a man so deadly he is more legendary ghost than flesh and blood man. It’s only a matter of time.” “Natalia, that isn’t true.” “It only takes a second.” she continued in a near whisper, gaze wide and unseeing as she stared out the suite window. “It only takes a second to make a girl a woman, to turn a boy into a killer. And more often than not, it is the exact same moment for both. The day Pietro has to see his sister as a woman will be the first day he thinks he can kill someone.” “Natalia--” “That’s how it was for James.” Natalia’s fingernails left crescent marks in her palms. “When he came home from the States, he came to the manor to find me but Da was having a party and I--” she closed her eyes. “-- he saw me, the way I was with the men. He broke my lover’s arm in three different places. Snapped his neck without looking away from my Da. Then James left, and I didn’t see him for years. Not for years. It was the end of everything. The end of me hoping James would save me, the end of him seeing me as his little sister, the end of everything I’d hoped would come close to resembling a happy ever after. My fairy tale. It was the end.” “Wanda and Pietro are not doomed to the same sort of life that you and James were born in to.” Tony said firmly. “You can’t think--” “I would give anything in the world to save them from it.” Natalia spoke as if she hadn’t heard Tony. “Anything to save us all from it. I hate being this person, do you know that? I hate it, I hate being the Black Widow, in fact I think I hate being Natalia Romanova. Can you imagine? Hating to be yourself?” Tony watched Natalia with something awful twisting in his stomach, unsettled by the blankness of her face, almost frightened by the dead-eyed stare that had taken over her usually expressive eyes. “Natalia, I--” “I’m boring you.” Just that quickly Natalia switched gears, rising smoothly from the couch with her blanket around her shoulders. “I’m going to take a bath and have a glass of wine. Would you please let me know when Ronin and Samuel arrive? Don’t bother warning me about James, I’m half tempted to throw him out another window for ruining my evening like this. Dropping bodies off balconies, putting my loves in danger, ruining Wanda and Pietro’s first Christmas Ball--” Natalia’s voice trailed off into mutterings and what Tony had come to recognize as curses as she went to the bedroom and shut the door, and no sooner had it clicked shut than the door to the other bedroom in the suite opened up and Wanda peeked curious eyes around to peer at Tony. “Antonio?” Wanda opened the door further from the adjoining room and took a cautious step inside. “Is everything alright? What is wrong with Talia?” “Nothing’s wrong with--” Tony started to deflect but Pietro pushed past his sister to interrupt, “Nothing ruins a beautiful evening like bodies falling from above. Have Ronin and Samuel made it back yet?” “No, not yet.” Tony handed Pietro his half measure of scotch and topped it off with a little water. “That’s all you’re drinking for now. Natalia will have my head if I give you any more, she’s having a hard time tonight.” “Pietro wouldn’t help me with my dress.” Wanda held her hair up off her shoulders and motioned for Tony to get to the buttons. “You don’t mind, do you Antonio?” “Of course not, come here.” Tony motioned for Wanda to sit on the couch where Talia had been just a moment before and he perched behind her, working carefully at the laces that held the back of her gown together. “I’ve undone more dresses tonight than I have in my entire life. My father would be so pleased.” Pietro sniffed at the drink before taking a tiny sip. “You mean he’d be happy you are undressing a woman instead of someone like James. You Da doesn’t approve of howyou love? Is that why you left Italy and came with Talia?” “Not--” Tony waved off the question. “--not entirely. And for tonight, we should leave Talia be. She is-- well she’s--” he hesitated. “I don’t really know how she is. But she is very concerned about the two of you.” “Talia is always concerned about us.” Wanda pointed out. “I think sometimes she looks at us and only sees the children we were when Ronin brought us home. And hardly children then, we were thirteen! Half to grown!” “Thirteen is not half to grown.” Tony disagreed, loosening the last of Wanda’s ties and giving her a blanket from the end of the couch. “At thirteen, I was no where near grown. Practically still a bambino.” “In Sokovia, thirteen is old enough for war. Half grown.” Pietro tossed back the drink in one swallow as if to prove his point, and then spluttered, coughing and clapping a hand over his mouth when it burned clear down his throat. “We are not--” a wheeze. “--children. We saw our village burn to the ground, Talia knows we can handle a few difficult truths.” “Pietro.” Wanda chided, snuggling back into the blanket with a grateful smile. “Bozhe moy, how do women wear these dresses every night? I thought I would split a seam if I ate anything!” “You look beautiful.” Pietro admitted begrudgingly. “I’m used to seeing you with grease in your hair and dirt under your fingernails, I don’t like that so many men thought to dance with you tonight.” “I never have grease in my hair!” Wanda fussed and Tony hid a smile at their bickering. “And besides Pietro, Natalia’s choice to not share her thoughts with us is most likely because we have seen such terrible things. Why would she want to worry us even more?” Pietro only snorted and poured himself another drink, before pouring one for Tony as well and passing it over. “All the same. We are not children anymore. She doesn’t need to hide from us.” “Pietro, change out of your suit.” Tony warned. “I won’t have you spilling scotch down the front of it like some spoiled nobleman, so if you’re going to keep drinking, get into your night clothes.” “I’m not spilling--” As if on cue, Pietro choked on a hard swallow of the dark liquid and it nearly came out of his nose. “Ow!” Wanda laughed out loud and reached to take a cautious sip from Tony’s glass. “Oh no no no, why are you drinking this? That is awful, I think I prefer champagne!” “I hope you are always a woman that can relax with something sweet instead of needing something bitter to ease your stress.” Tony drained what was left and set the cup aside. “Now then. I’ve unlaced you enough to step out of your gown at least. Go and set it out over the bed so it doesn’t wrinkle and I’ll go out and find some dinner. Pietro under no circumstances are you to bother either your sister or Natalia.” Neither twin put up an argument, and Tony waited until they’d gone back into the adjoining room before unlocking the door and stepping out into the hallway, re-locking the door as he went. It would take come coin, but he was sure he could bribe the cook into scrounging up a few meals for them, and since the last he’d seen of James and Samuel they were breaking through an ornate window from the second story, Tony set about trying to gather as many medicinal supplies as he could. It took almost half an hour, and the only food available was a reheated pot of soup and a loaf of crusty bread, but Tony balanced the food and a few rolls of gauze and sewing supplies on top of the tray as he climbed the stairs back to their room.

It would be enough for now. He knocked on the suite door and waited for Pietro to look through the peep hole and let him in, but when the door swung open to reveal James-- exhausted, shirtless, bleeding-- Tony only managed a few surprised blinks. “...James.” It had been ages since Tony had seen James and it wasn’t until that very moment that Tony realized just how much he’d missed the soldier. “James.” he said again, sounding a little more helpless this time, the worry about Natalia’s behavior and the outcome of the events at the palace falling away in lieu of simply staring, drinking in the sight of broad shoulders and wide stretches of scarred skin and the curve of James’s mouth as it lifted into a barely there smile. “I’m sorry for missing the garden, kotyonok.” James said hoarsely, his pale gaze flitting over Tony’s face and then down across his frame as if the soldier were starving. “But I am happy to see you all the same. I’ve missed you.” “I’m happy to see you too.” Tony whispered back, no use lying when he knew James could see the truth in his eyes and when he was leaning in towards James even with his hands full of food. “Mi sei mancato, tesoro. I’ve missed you.” The doorway to the hotel suite was not the place to be standing and staring at each other, especially not when James was dripping blood onto the plush carpet, but Tony couldn’t seem to look away, and James didn’t seem to care all that much either, not when they were seeing each other for the first time in months. How could it have been months when it seemed just like yesterday they were haring last minute, desperate kisses in the stables, Tony half way to begging James not to go, James halfway to deciding to stay? How could it have been months, too much time and yet no time at all? Because I love him. Tony realized all in a rush, fully aware that it wasn’t the time nor the place to have such a revelation, and equally aware that it wasn’t so much a revelation as it was an admission of something he’d known for weeks.

For months. Mio dio, lo amo. “Tony.” James saw it all in Tony’s expression and his mouth parted on a relieved sigh. “Sweet thing, c’mere--” “Get inside before the entire world knows we are here!” Natalia shouted from inside the room, sounding sharp, angrier than she’d been before. “Antonio! James! Don’t you think you’ve put us in enough danger tonight?” James grimaced at Talia’s tone and stepped back from the door to make room for Tony, brushing his good hand down Tony’s back in a gentle sweep and lingering at his hip, surprising himself with just how badly he wanted to hold the pretty brunette. Or not really surprising, he supposed. Of course he wanted to hold Tony, of course he wanted to get his hands all over that welcoming body and lose himself in those eyes and Tony’s mouth. James needed to forget what had happened tonight, what had happened the last few months. Needed to remember what it felt like to be human again, and he knew he’d find all that and a whole lot more in Tony’s arms. “You’re hurt?” Tony asked, motioning to the blood at James’s shoulder and James shook his head as if it didn’t matter. He hurt like hell but he had years of practice ignoring pain and he would to ignore it tonight just so Tony would keep looking at him like that. But then even better-- Tony set the tray down and stood on his toes to press a kiss to James’s lips, his fingers feather light against James’s hurt arm, breath catching on the inhale. “I’ve missed you.” “Missed you too.” James bumped their noses together and squeezed at Tony’s waist with his good hand, closing his eyes and wondering how the hell he’d lived the last few months without getting to see Tony every night. He didn’t want to go back to war. Tony finally cleared his throat and stepped away, tinging a little red when he realized the entire room must have seen their display, but he didn’t have to worry, no one was looking at them.

Samuel was sprawled in a chair with a bottle in one hand, his other arm over his eyes as Wanda stitched up a cut on his chest with the needle and thread from her sewing kit and Pietro relocked the windows the men had apparently climbed through.

In the corner of the room, Natalia and Ronin were arguing quietly, more hand motions than actual words. Natalia looked furious, gesturing wildly and nearly spitting her words but Ronin was entirely unapologetic, maintaining a gentle but firm mantra of “It was necessary, Talia.” “Is everyone else alright?” Tony felt guilty for being so distracted by James when there were other injuries. “Samuel? Ronin?” “They’re fine.” James grunted, ladling soup into a bowl and tearing off a thick hunk of bread. “Ronin’s not hurt at all and Samuel’s worse off than me, went head first through the window, cut up his chest real bad.” “He will live.” Wanda said with a terse smile, knotting the stitches and breaking the thread. “No thanks to his foolishness. There are better ways to go through a window than using your forehead, Samuel.” Tony made up a bowl for Pietro and one for Wanda as well and handed it off before turning back to James who was eating standing up, braced against the wall and trying to eat with his bad shoulder, the spoon shaking in his hand. “What--what--” Tony cleared his throat and stepped closer, clenching his hands so he wouldn’t reach out and touch again. “What happened? What happened to your shoulder?” “Just bleeding cos it was first through the window when I jumped.” James swore under his breath when he couldn’t hold onto the spoon anymore, his arm too strained to even clutch the utensil. “Old injury before that, nothing important.” The soldier put the bowl down and ran his fingers through his matted hair, pursing his lips and blowing out a breath that seemed to come from his very soul. “Natalia--” “Do not talk to me.” Natalia turned from her conversation with Ronin and swished past James to check the lock on the door, and then to take the bowl right away from him, eating his soup in big bites just to spite him. “I am furious with you.” “So you’re going to steal my food? We are not children, sister. Calm down--” Natalia whirled on him, seething, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare try to calm me down! You threw a man over the balcony, James! Ruined my plans, what if Mikhail had grabbed me and I hadn’t escaped? What if Wanda hadn’t been able to get away, or Pietro?” “Talia, love--” Samuel tried to quiet her and Natalia slashed her hand through the air in a cease motion. “No. First I have to see my fool brother jump through a window, then Samuel, you nearly take your head off doing the same thing? And then Ronin? Flying through the air like that? What if he had died? What if they both had died! You promised me, James! You promised--!” “Enough!” James grabbed at Natalia’s wrist and the tiny redhead swore and cursed and tried in vain to free her hand. “You listen to me, Natalia, and listen well.” “I do not have to listen to anything you--” “My spies spoke nothing of guards on the top floors!” James raised his voice. “Which can only mean they were added after Mikhail saw you!. He saw the Black Widow come out to play and decided you must be there for Rumlow! Do not be so stupid to think I willingly walked into a fight unaware! While you were batting your eyes and baring your skin--” “James.” Samuel said warningly and Ronin took a protective step forward when Natalia’s eyes flashed with hurt. “You do not need to say those things.” “While you were down there drinking champagne.” James amended, his tone apologetic but no less angry. “Samuel and I fell into six guards. Six. Two in the hall and four in the room where Rumlow was held. We had no choice but to fight our way out and escape and since there were more guards on the floors below us, I decided to avoid the fight and go through the window. You should be pleased the body count isn’t higher instead of screeching at me for blood on the dance floor.” “Four guards in Rumlow’s room.” Natalia ignored James’s comment about her screeching and tugged her wrist free. “Why so many? What did Rumlow do when he saw you?” “He shouted for the guards to help him.” Samuel said flatly, and Pietro’s jaw fell open in a silent echo to Wanda’s gasp of surprise. “If we didn’t know for sure he was a traitor, we know now.” “Only a traitor would call for guards when his komandir and oldest friend comes through the door.” James agreed, with a grim sort of smile. “Can’t feel any sort of guilt over wanting to kill the bastard anymore. Friend and ally or not, he has given himself to an enemy of the revolution and he will pay for it with his--” James hissed in pain when he stumbled over a roll in the carpet and tried to brace himself with his hurt arm, all but collapsing into a chair and closing his eyes. “Shit. This’n might be worse than I thought. Might need a couple stitches.” “You need a swift slap to the head.” Natalia informed him, and snapped her fingers for Tony to bring her the first aid supplies, apparently done yelling at her brother. Gathering her robe up around her knees, Natalia knelt by James’s chair an poked and prodded at the hurt shoulder, smacking his hand away when he tried to help. “Stop that, let me see where you are hurt.” She muttered something in Sokovian that was decidedly not complimentary, and James smiled a little bit before turning his ice blue eyes towards Tony and tipping his chin up in an obvious invitation. Tony stayed where he was though, knowing full well if he moved towards James it would be only to throw himself in the soldier’s arms and now was not the time. So Tony reined in his self control and stood with arms folded to his chest as he watched Natalia suture the cut in James’s shoulder with neat stitches and when Ronin came to get some dinner, he clapped Tony on the back with a muttered, “Thank you for taking care of Talia and the children tonight.” Tony nodded, but didn’t look away from James and Natalia, furrowing his brow when Natalia clicked her tongue and tsked, “You never got it properly treated, did you? All this time and it still hurts?” “And when do you suggest I get it properly treated?” James asked dryly, motioning for Samuel to hand him a bottle of whatever was in the cupboard, turning down a glass with a quick shake of his head. “Was it when your Da locked me in my rooms for a week, or when Ma got sick, or when I finally ran away to jump ship to the America’s? When should I have gotten it treated?” “What happened? What did Talia’s Da do?” Never one to let the opportunity to be nosy pass, Pietro flopped onto the couch next to Ronin and dug into his soup. “I didn’t know there was something wrong with James’s shoulder.” “That is because you know next to nothing.” Wanda sniffed, dropping a quick kiss on Samuel’s forehead as she passed to eat her own food. “Of course you don’t know what happened to James.” “It was my Da.” Natalia cleaned another cut and re-threaded her needle. “When our Mama was still alive, he would get drunk and terrible and one day he raised his voice to Mama, raised his hand as well. James jumped in between them and my Da threw him down the stairs, almost tore his shoulder apart.” James scoffed and Natalia slipped a neat stitch into the wound. “James couldn’t use his arm for weeks, but the next time Da thought to mistreat our Mama, James stepped up again and nearly broke Da’s jaw. One punch. Almost killed him.” Pietro’s spoon clinked to the bowl as he stared at James in awe. “One punch?” “Do not look so impressed, darling.” Natalia trimmed another stitch. “It was a terrible day in our home. A respectable man would never put his son in a position to have to defend his Ma, and a respectable man would never punish his son for the same thing. Our Da was a bully and a coward and I’m afraid my brother and I have paid the price many times over.” “He was not my father.” James tensed and took a long drink from the bottle when Natasha wiped the superficial cuts with alcohol. “But I would do it again all the same.” Natalia didn't answer, and Tony’s stomach clenched uncomfortably with the reminder of their earlier conversation, when Natalia had been so angry about Wanda and Pietro growing up in a family like theirs, when she’d talked about her Da and how furious James had been. He didn't look furious right now though, James didn’t look furious at all. Slumped in the chair bare chested and wild haired, gulping at the vodka as if it were water and letting the drops spill from his lips, eyes trained solely on Tony and blood still drying on his skin, James looked tired and he looked hungry and he looked--he looked-- Tony looked away before he blurted out something stupid about James being beautiful. Ronin was sitting silently with his arm round Wanda’s waist, holding the girl protectively as if he could erase the way the men had stared tonight. Pietro was pressed into Samuel even if he didn’t realize it, still young enough to seek comfort from someone he loved like a father. Natalia was washing blood off her hands and James was hurt more than any of them, and all Tony could think about was how disappointed he was to have missed their moment in the garden. Selfish. Stupid. How could he think about James’s hands on his body when James was too hurt to even hold a spoon to eat? “In the morning we will make a plan.” Natalia said then, decisive and in no mood to hear any sort of argument. “Wanda and Pietro, to bed please. Wanda you will sleep in bed with me, Pietro on the floor in our room. My loves--” “We will secure the windows and doors and sleep here in the living room with James.” Samuel was signing quickly to Ronin, who had his good ear turned to the couch cushions. “Tony, take the extra room and be sure to bar the doors. We will be as safe as we can be for the night.” “I love you.” Natalia whispered, bending to kiss first Samuel and then lingering over a slow kiss with Ronin, drawing her fingers through his hair and murmuring something sweet into his ear. “Come along, children.” “Natalia, we are not--” Pietro started to protest but Tony cut in-- “Pietro.” and the boy shut his mouth with an audible click. For tonight, for the sake of keeping the peace and for Natalia’s sanity, he would not argue being called a child. As soon as the door closed behind Natalia and the twins, Tony went to work helping Ronin and Samuel secure the living room and side bedroom, moving the heaviest furniture in front of the doors, shoving the wardrobe in front of the window by the bed so no one-- not even a bullet-- could get through. Natalia’s bedroom window had been boarded shut the moment they arrived in the city, and their door was locked from the inside as well, and after the rest of the soup and bread was gone and James had made it through most of the bottle of vodka, Samuel said, “Tony, get some sleep. James and Ronin and I need to plan for--” “You and Ronin take the other room.” James interrupted, the come down from adrenaline and alcohol in his system making the words slur. “Sleep. The planning can wait for morning.” “James--” “Go on.” James struggled to his feet only to make it the few feet to the couch and collapse into a sprawl. “Now. Leave me and Tony for the night.” Ronin met Tony’s eyes in a silent question, and when Tony nodded, Ronin shrugged and took Samuel’s hand to lead him to the other room. They never wanted to spend a night away from Natalia, but the chance to simply hold each other in the quiet didn’t come along very often either, and neither of the soldiers were going to argue. The door closed, the lock engaging, and Tony’s mouth went dry when James held out a hand and coaxed, “Come here, sweet thing.” “You’re hurt.” Tony undid the knot at his neckerchief and tossed the frilly material away, working at the buttons of his crisp dress shirt. “Exhausted.” he stepped out of his shoes and opened the clasp of his trousers. “You should sleep.” “Come here.” James said again, too tired to try for the pretty words he’d thought to whisper to Tony in the garden, too drunk to tease like they usually did, to twist the moment until Tony’s eyes sparked in challenge. He couldn’t help saying what he was thinking, his body aching with pain and his heart too bruised from the betrayal of his oldest friend to hide how vulnerable he was. So he held out his hand and curled his fingers hopefully and didn’t let himself feel embarrassed for begging. “Please.” Tony lifted his shirt free from his pants and opened the last of the buttons so it was loose around his shoulders, then sat carefully on the edge of the couch and wove their fingers together. “Missed you.” James leveraged himself up on one arm and pressed liquor soft lips to Tony’s,inhaling sharply when Tony kissed him right back, squeezing at his hand and inching closer. “M’sorry we didn’t get to the garden but believe me, it was all I could think about the last few days.” “I know.” Tony flattened his palm over James’s heartbeat and leaned in to chase the kiss, drawing it out until James flinched away from the pressure on his arm. “Oh oh I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to hurt you--” “Don’t stop.” James fell back into the couch and brought Tony down with him, groaning half in pain, half in relief when Tony rubbed against him. “Tony, dorogoy, come here. Please come here.” “Your arm--” “I don’t care.” James eased onto his side so there was room for Tony as well, hooking his hurt arm around Tony’s waist and bringing their mouths together again and again. He slid his tongue along the seam of Tony’s lips and when Tony opened on a low moan, James pressed tighter to lick through Tony’s warmth, gasping like he was drowning when Tony bit at his lip teasingly, nothing more than a sting of teeth before he soothed the hurt with a sweet kiss. “I missed you.” Tony mumbled through another kiss, clutching at James side and trying in vain to get even closer, gathering his courage and steeling himself to whisper, “James, tesoro. I was lying, do you understand? I was lying and I was going to tell you in the garden but I don’t know when I’ll see you again so I'll tell you right now. I was lying.” James leaned away far enough to see into Tony’s eyes, searching the dark brown for truth, for certainty that Tony was saying what James thought he was saying. “I’m---” Tony took in a deep breath and prayed James hadn’t drank too much to misunderstand him. “I’m lying about my heart not being involved. Are you?” “Yes.” James rolled them from the couch and onto the floor, catching Tony’s weight with his good arm so he didn’t hit his head, bracing himself gingerly on his injured shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart, I am lying. Lying, for ages now.” “Thank god.” Tony laughed breathlessly and this time their kiss was messy, anxious and greedy and packed with longing and all the things they both knew to be true but couldn’t say quite yet. “I thought--” a dirty kiss, full of teeth and tongue and a groan Tony didn’t quite manage to muffle. “--I thought-- three months. It’s so long. I missed you but I thought you regretted writing me--” “You thought I’d bring you to the gardens, to the gazebo only to tell you I’d changed my mind?” James mouthed hungry kisses along Tony’s jaw, back to the sensitive skin at his ear, down his neck. “No no no, darling. No.” Tony arched up beneath him for another kiss, aching to his soul over the tender way James called him darling, desperate for more and more, another and another and another because no one had ever looked at him the way James was looking at him right now.

“Ho un debole per ti.” he whispered. “I am weak for you, James.” “And the blood on my hands?” James asked, flinching away from even the softest of touches along his hurt arm. “What about that?” Tony closed his eyes and pursed his lips for a kiss James was all too happy to give, their bodies moving together in an idle shadow of what they really wanted to be doing, far too many clothes separating skin, and their mouths falling open in desperate pants and quiet moans for a long time before Tony managed to answer, “I don’t see it. I only see you.” “My love.” James breathed into Tony’s ear and Tony melted beneath him, pliant and sweet and beautiful, trusting James even though neither of them had any reason to trust anyone at all. “My love, I am too hurt to show you how I have missed you but stay with me tonight anyway. Right here with me. Stay.” *************** It wasn’t until after Tony was pillowed asleep on James’s chest, welcome and heavy and gorgeous lost in a sleepy dream, that James realized what he’d said. My love. No wonder Tony had gone so quiet for a moment, why he’d looked almost stunned when he’d agreed to stay the night, why he’d quietly asked, “Again?” and James had said it again without even thinking. My love. James was a man afraid of very few things, but loving after losing Stevie hadn’t only felt impossible, it had been outright terrifying. Baring his heart again, his feelings, opening himself to rejection, to hurt, to loss? Terrifying. How comforting to know it wasn’t terrifying at all. How comforting to know falling in love was as easy as seeing Tony’s smile as they kissed good night. ***************** ***************** The next morning Natalia sat between Samuel and Ronin on the couch, sipping her tea and staying almost suspiciously quiet as the men worked through their next several movements, plans drawn up and discussed in relation to Rumlow, to Mikhail, and the rebel soldiers themselves. Brock turning tail and switching sides could spell the end of the revolution, or it could be the motivation they needed to turn the tide of the war in their favor. Every move James and his army made would have to be calculated, secretive and carried out to precision or everything would fall apart and all would be lost. “I need you.” James said bluntly, his good arm hooked around Tony’s waist so Tony wouldn’t leave his lap. “Samuel, Ronin. I need you both at my side. No question.” “No!” Natalia burst out, her first words all morning. “No, James. You cannot have them. You promised--” “I know what I promised, but I need you to not be a woman in love right now.” James lowered his voice, his hand tightening at Tony’s side. “Natalia I need you to be the Black Widow right now, I need you to listen and to see that I cannot do this without my best soldiers.” “No.” “Talia--” Ronin smoothed Natalia’s hair back from her face and kissed her temple. “My love, it’s alright.” “It is not alright.” Natalia insisted, and Wanda looked up from her tea with a worried expression. “James, you promised me.” “I know what I promised.” James repeated. “And I don’t want to leave you alone at the manor house, but Tony will be there and so will the twins.” “We can take care of Natalia.” Pietro said bravely and James gave him a short, approving nod. “The manor will be plenty safe with all of us there.” “I said no!” Natalia jumped to her feet, wrenching out of Samuel’s reach and whirling on James. “You will not take more of my family into this fight! Having you gone all the time is bad enough, but you will not take the men I love as well!” “Natalia!” James shouted and Natalia froze in place. “Your Da was a bastard and a menace but I know he taught you to be smarter than you are being right now. Stop fighting me and just think about it! Think!” Natalia clenched her jaw and folded her arm, shoulders set straight and furious and green eyes snapping-- -- but just as Wanda was ready to run to her and try to calm her down, Natalia relented, pushing her hair back and retightening her robe, returning to the couch. “With Brock hiding away with Mikhail, you only have Garbiel.” she said woodenly. “At the very least you need Ronin and Samuel to deliver messages because they are the only ones you can trust. At most, you need them at your side for battle because the only person you’ve fought next to more is currently selling your secrets to our enemy.” “That’s right.” James relaxed again, his hold on Tony loosening though he didn’t let go. “If I have messages to you I’ll send it Ronin or Samuel so you can see them, if we will be within a days travel, I’ll arrange for them to sneak away to check on you. I know what I promised, Talia. But there are bigger things at stake than what you and I want.” “I know.” Natalia seemed to wilt into the cushions, her anger there and gone so quickly it was nearly unsettling. “There is always something bigger at stake than what we want, hm?” James put his forehead into Tony’s shoulder and whispered a curse under his breath. “Sister, I am sorry. I am.” “I'm sure you are. Come with me and help me pack.” Natalia stood to her feet and pulled Samuel and Ronin up as well. “I missed you last night, and if you have to leave with James, I want time together first. Come on.” Pietro tugged at Wanda and jerked his head towards the other room. “Come on sister, I’ll help you put your dress away.” Eventually it was just James and Tony left sharing the over sized chair and James exhaled noisily before saying, “Sweet thing, you’ve been very quiet this morning.” “If I’m being honest, I was just enjoying being held.” Tony said quietly, and James cupped Tony’s jaw and turned him for a long kiss. “Something is going on with Talia.” “I know.” James kissed him again, leaning back into the chair and pulling Tony closer to his chest. “Usually I’d say she is being dramatic, maybe hysterical, but my sister has never been hysterical a day in her life. I think Natalia has been so long outside of this life she’s forgotten all it can take from us.” “And we’ve been safe at home for a while.” Tony finished, tucking his nose into James’s neck and quietly loving the freedom to do so, loving the way James’s fingers tangled into his hair to keep him close, James’s hurt arm resting lightly but no less possessively at his waist. “It’s easy to forget there is a war happening when all we do every morning is have our coffee and do the chores.” “This is not the life you expected when you came to Sokovia.” James decided and Tony smiled a little. “You are regretting it?” “Not right now.” Tony admitted, closing his eyes when James pressed a kiss to his hair. “Not for months now.” “When this is over.” James hesitated, weighing his words. “When all this is over, we will talk. Really talk.” “It’s not needed. You said enough last night." Tony pressed tighter. "You were lying and I was lying-- that's enough, James. It's enough." “It's not.” James swallowed hard and tugged gently at the dark strands. “Seems to me you’ve never heard the sorta things you want to hear from some one you-- from someone who has your heart. Your man in Italy never said them, and I haven’t said them yet. I mean to fix that.” I love you. Tony thought, but he only leaned in for a long kiss that went on and on and on, neither willing to be the one to break apart first, because who knew when they’d have another chance.

“Tony.” When they pulled away to breathe, James pushed their foreheads together and whispered, “Promise me if things go badly, you will take Natalia and the twins somewhere safe.” “I promise.” Tony whispered back. “I’m sending Ronin and Samuel back to the manor for a week.” James continued. “When I come to fetch them, promise me you’ll be sleeping in my bed.” Tony smiled, hearing the unspoken plea in James’s voice and budging close for another kiss. “... I promise.”

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yurimura · 6 years

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Drunken Hookups (Rafael Barba x Reader)

A/N: Hey did you miss me? I started college and I’ve been really busy but I wanted to write again for this blog. I don’t think I will be able to post as often as I did when I was starting out because I was on break then, but don’t worry! I plan on posting more. At least, that’s the plan.

Word Count: 2,018 words

ADA Rafael Barba did not do hookups, it just wasn’t in his nature. Sure in the past he had the occasional one night stand, but that was in the past, when he was young. He was never one to mess around, even in his youth, collecting the proverbial “notches in his belt”. No, no that wasn’t Rafael Barba, he acted after considering the options, collecting his thoughts and looking the at all the facts presented to him. Impulse was not something he acted on often.

Yet as memories of last night flooded his memory, impulse was the one word that came to mind. The newest addition of the Special Victims Unit, a young and ambitious detective whom Barba thought viewed the world too optimistically for the job you had. His hand brushed against a tender spot on his neck, a gift you so generously gave him no doubt. There was no mistaking the sleeping figure next to him, Thankfully, you were still asleep, giving Rafael some time to collect his thoughts as more memories of the previous night slowly came back to him.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as your back collided with the door, you couldn’t even wait until you got through the door to start your assault on the older lawyer. It took a while before he could unlock the door, and when he did the two of you burst through the door like a pair of hormonal teenagers or a newlywed couple.

“Mr. Barba,” you moaned out. You made quick work of removing your coat after you escaped the cold, and being able to feel him touching you made the whole thing that much more real. Rafael Barba was by no means a soft lover, there was no delicacy in his touch, he did not treat you like you were made out of glass. His touch was firm, but not bruising.

“‘Mr. Barba’?” He questioned, “please don’t tell me you still can’t get over office formalities in this situation of all things. Or is this some weird roleplay kink you have? No, don’t tell me, I’d rather not know,” despite his apparent protests, he made no indication of wanting to stop. So even if it was some weird roleplaying kink (which it wasn’t, but if it was) he couldn’t have been that bothered by it.

“Oh, I do not need your sass right now,” you rolled your eyes. You wrapped your legs around him and cupped his face, pulling him in for one more kiss before he carried you off to the bedroom.

His own actions surprised him. Quite honestly, Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he had acted so impulsively. Though he couldn’t say that this was a completely unprecedented move either.

You were… different. Not to say that there was something about you that stood out from every other woman he’s ever met. No one was completely unique, nor did everyone meld together into an amalgamate except for a select few. You were young and optimistic to a fault, you sassed him almost immediately after any snide comments or remarks on his part. You were outstanding, to be sure, but Rafael would be lying if he said that you were the first of your kind he had come across. You wouldn’t be the last either, but you were the one he had fallen in love with.

Yes, love. Just when he thought that he was getting too old, you had rolled into his life. And into his bed, though if memory served he was the one that pushed you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rafael asked, once again slowing down before he could get to your underwear. He had been drinking, yes, but that didn’t mean he was inebriated enough to forget to ask for your consent. Nothing was strong enough to wash away some of the horrors he had seen, crimes he had prosecuted.

That didn’t keep him from impatiently playing with the hem of your underwear, though.

“Yes,” you laughed, “you’ve only asked me every thirty seconds. I haven’t nearly had enough to drink as you have. Trust me, I want this. I’m only worried that you might be the one waking up with a hangover and regret.”

“Mi reina,” Rafael chuckled, pulling down your underwear tantalizingly slow, “I could never regret you.”

Rafael Barba could say with certainty that he did not regret the actions of last night. He only struggled with the fact that if you wanted to pursue this- whatever this was- any further, there would be a lot of tiptoeing around. He has done so much to avoid scandal, and he wasn’t sure being involved with a member of the detective squad he worked closely with on cases would help.

Not to mention he was over fifteen years your senior.

“Barba?”

Rafael was pulled away from his thoughts by the sound of your voice calling him. It seems like you have finally awakened.

“Oh good, you’re up. We need to talk.”

You were starting to feel like you were sitting in the principal’s office rather than across the table of the man you just spent the night with. Personally, you thought the previous night had gone strikingly well.

So why did it feel like you were about to get scolded?

“Was I that bad?” You gave your poor attempt at trying to alleviate some of the tension hanging in the air.

“No,” Rafael rolled his eyes. It seems that was all you would get out of the ADA about his satisfaction from last night, “please be a little more serious.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you set the coffee down, “what did you want to talk about?” As if there was anything else to talk about.

You swear to god if he pulls out a case file from somewhere and starts discussing work with you- right now of all times- you would slap him. Your affections towards this man would only go so far.

“About last night-”

“Oh, so this is about last night.” That was somewhat of a relief. But if he was talking about last night- which again, you thought went wonderfully- why did he look so stern.

“Yes- what are you talking about- of course this is about last night. Listen, _____, I- my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this- I had a wonderful time last night,” even during the first thing in the morning, he spoke so quickly like he was having a million thoughts per minute.

“I’m glad to hear that. I also,” you smiled, foot stretching under the table to tenderly stroke his leg, “had a good time last night.”

“Wh- hey- whoa. Stop- stop it,” a giggle escaped your lips as you saw the usually serious and professional Rafael Barba become flustered by a foot, “put that foot down.”

Rafael sure liked to take his sweet old time with foreplay. Emphasis on the sweet. He was currently kissing his way up your leg. His almost tortuously slow pace caused you to groan, you enjoyed teasing but this was almost too much.

“My, my, Mr. Barba, is that a body worshipping kink I see?” You tried to egg him on, anything to get him to speed things up, though the only thing you earned from that was a glare from the lawyer.

“_____, please, now is not the time for your regular teasing antics,” Rafael stopped his actions, earning him a needy whine from you.

“No? I think now is exactly the time for my teasing antics, especially since someone seems to want to take their damn time right now,” you rolled your eyes, “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Barba, but you’re being torturously slow right now.”

“Forgive me, I… suppose I’ve just been savoring the moment,” Rafael loosened his tie, “I never dared to dream that- no… nevermind. If you wanted more, _____, all you had to do was ask.” And with that he pulled you in for another kiss, more feverous than his previous actions.

“_____, I’m being serious here,” Rafael cleared his throat, tugging you away from memory lane, “I don’t usually do things like last night- rather I haven’t done anything like last night since my university days.”

“Well, I must be special then,” you gave him an odd look, “Mr. Barba, what are you getting at here?”

“You are special. What I mean to say here is, I enjoy your company very much and throughout the time we have been working together, I have grown very fond of you… If last night was any indication, I would like to think that you are fond of me as well.” He wouldn’t meet your gaze when he said that last part, were your eyes deceiving you or was Rafael Barba embarrassed?

“Wow, I guess spending so much time around detectives must have rubbed off on you. Nice detective work there counselor, you’re right I am “fond” of you,” not the exact wording you would use but yes you really enjoyed spending time with Rafael too.

Rafael scoffed, “please, don’t patronize me, I’ve been an excellent deductor since before the SVU. That’s beside the point, ______, I wouldn’t be opposed to pursuing whatever this could be, but I put my job first. Would you be able to promise me that our relationship wouldn’t hinder us working together?”

“Mr. Barba, when have I ever been anything but professional around you? I mean look at me now, I’m still calling you Mr. Barba even after everything that happens,” how cruel of you, to tease him like that. Yes, you always called him Mr. Barba, but after last night, the name held such a different weight to it than before. You couldn’t help but say it in a teasing tone.

You expected some sort of retort from him, but Rafael said nothing. instead he reached across the table to grasp your hand. Stroking the back of your hand with his thumb he finally spoke, “this is difficult for me,” he told you in a soft voice, “it has been a while since I have felt like this with anyone. If only we didn’t work together, things would be so much easier…”

He held your hand tenderly, as if you would suddenly disappear from him and he would awake to find that it had all been a dream, “I know… I don’t think you know how much I’ve wanted this, but if you think it’ll be too hard then-”

“I never said I was backing down,” Rafael cut you off, “yes it would be easier if we didn’t work together, and yes it would be easier if we let last night stay as a one night occurrence, however,” and when he looked at you you saw that familiar glint in his eye. The one you sometimes caught a glimpse of when you thought the case had been all but lost, “since when has anything in my life been easy? Mi reina, I want to know you as more than a colleague and a friend. If you will have me, I think we could make this work.”

He kissed the top of your hand, and you swore that if he hadn’t been holding onto you in that moment, the earth would have swallowed you then and there. It was your turn to be afraid that any second you would awake to the real world and find that everything had just been a dream.

You waited, but that moment never came.

This was real.

Heat flushed your cheeks, suddenly you were shy. All the teasing you’d done shrunk away and you barely found the courage to speak. Yes, you knew from the moment you met him that he would be a hard man to love, but what was the saying? ‘The harder you work for something, the greater you feel when you achieve it’? You glanced at Rafael, he was watching you intensely, he didn’t dare breathe until he got your answer. A smile spread across your face, and you spoke the one word he needed to hear, the only word you needed to tell him right now;

“Yes.”

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu imagines #svu imagines

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