Work Text:
Marvel, Winter Soldier/Jessica Drew, any
Madripoor is warm and damp at the best of times, but now, at the height of summer, it's turned into a sauna. Their hotel room is like an oven, the only respite bottled water from the crate Jessica had the foresight to have lugged in. Even that's warm, though. The only cool thing in the room is Bucky's metal arm.
Not that she calls him Bucky, not even when she's pressing her forehead against a gleaming bicep, pressing her cheek into the crook of his elbow. He's always Barnes, when she straddle his waist and peels his damp tshirt up over his head. Barnes when he slides his other hand, rough with calluses, up under her tank to cup a breast.
"Fury will be watching," he says into her lips when she bends down to kiss him. "He watches everything I do."
"Let him," she says, grinding hard against him while she sits back to pull her hair off her neck and into a messy bun. "I don't think we'll surprise him."
"We can try," Barnes says, and as he says it the fan, languidly blowing warm air in a small circle, cuts out. It's too much, and they dissolve into hot, breathless laughter, before kissing again, and again.
It takes them the better part of an hour to get naked. There's water to drink, calls on several different cell phones to answer, emails to respond to. Nick checks in once, a little transparent hologram hovering above a frighteningly high-tech PDA. Jessica can't tell if he can see her or not, but he glances at least once in her direction. Let him look, she thinks, refusing to feel ashamed as she sits in her underwear and fans herself.
Enough is enough, and they finally lie together. Barnes is hard, insistently so, but he goes down on her without a word. His stubble rasps against her thighs as his tough works clever tricks, making her as wet as she's ever been.
"I guess that isn't SHIELD standard training," she says, then writhes as he hums against her.
"No, it's one of those things you just pick up."
"Get up here," Jessica says, and reaches down to fist her hands in his hair.
He slides into her easily, their bodies fitting together, sticking with sweat. His lips are full, reddened, his eyes dark. Jessica grips his ass with one hand, scrabbles over his broad chest to find a nipple with the other.
"Harder," she says. The rough edge to her voice has nothing to do with the heat now, and he takes her at her word and pounds into her, breath coming in hard pants as she cants her hips up to meet his thrusts.
His head drops against her shoulder when he comes, eyes closed and every muscle tense. She reaches between them to bring herself off, and he pushes himself up on one arm and slides his metal hand down to match the movements of her own. She arches against the unyielding metal and the weight of his body, climaxing hard.
Maybe Madripoor isn't so bad after all.