Darcy/Rumlow 11
Darcy was curled up in bed with Oliver, her fluffy gray cat, sprawled across her hip. She was awake, but preliminary investigations had suggested that it wascold outside of her thick blanket, and since she didn’t really have anywhere to be, she was perfectly content to just stay in bed for a while.
It was nice and quiet, too. Normal daytime noises in her neighborhood asother people went about their lives, but she’d pretty much decided not to go anywhere or do anything for the day. Maybe some gaming, maybe some reading… Maybe a whole lot of nothing.
She stretched her hand outside of the comforter- yup, still cold- and scratched behind Oliver’s ears until she was rewarded with his motorboat purr. Oliver was a pretty awesome cat, frequent hairballs notwithstanding.
Darcy froze. There was a key in her front door. There were only two other people in the world who had a key to her little house. Jane, who she’d given a key just after moving in, because of course Jane was getting a key. And Brock, who she… hadn’t given a key, but had turned up one time with one anyway.
And Darcy was fairly certain she knew who was at the door. On the one hand, there went her day of doing nothing. On the other, probably orgasms.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before there was a black-clothed figure moving through her open bedroom door into her room. He smirked as he looked down at her for a moment, then started peeling off his clothes. “Still in bed?”
“Um, yeah. I have nowhere to be today, nothing to do, and it’s fucking cold.” It was always a nice view when he took off his clothes.
“Phrasing’s interesting…” He paused from pulling off his boot, looking up at her with a very significant sort of smirk before turning his attention back to his clothes.
She stared at him for a second, eyes getting wide as she realized the exact implications of what he’d meant. “Oh, no. No way.” She went from scratching Oliver’s ears to patting his butt gently until he very reluctantly relinquished his post on Darcy’s hip. Brock had almost finished undressing, and she lunged out of bed, moving past him, only to be caught by a very cold pair of arms around her waist. She shrieked.
“Baby, it’s cold outside,” he said, pulling her back in the direction of the bed.
She was laughing, though, even while she tried to get away from him, pushing almost futilely against his arms. “Why do you always do this to me?”
“Usually you run, then squirm, then make just the best noises.” He succeeded into hauling her back on the bed, and it bounced underneath them as she landed beside him. She yelped. She was naked, and the rest of his body was just as cold as his arms.
“I have a shower, you know…” She looked up at where Brock’s face was hovering over hers, his eyes dark and intense. She bit her teeth into her lower lip, unwilling to breathe her morning breath all over him.
“And here I thought you wanted to stay in bed.” His head ducked down until his lips were moving against the side of her neck. “You’ll warm me up.”