telegraphing | darcy/bucky, crush
He sat in the middle of the training mats, idly wrapping his hands, and called out brusquely, “You planning on making me wait here all day?”
There was a quiet “meep!” from behind him, and a nervous, shaky exhale. “Where’s Tasha?”
“Lebanon,” he said shortly. He stood and turned in one fluid motion, eyes finding her immediately. He bit back a groan, tracing the lines of her legs and hips and breasts as she stood there in little more than yoga pants and a sports bra, fidgeting with the ends of her ponytail. “She asked me to take over.”
Her face turned a little pale, eyes widening, and he felt his gut clench a little. Ignoring the feeling with the ease of years of practice, he nodded to the opposite end of the mat. He couldn’t quite help but watch as she shuffled over, her stride loosening as she crossed the room. Christ, she was gorgeous.
“You warmed up?” he asked gruffly, and when she nodded he immediately went for her side, pulling her ankles out from under her and pinning her to the mat with her wrists pinned above her head in his flesh hand, his weight holding down her legs.
“Oof,” she muttered. “Not one to pull your punches, are you?” He swallowed back the flare of desire that ran through his spine, trying not to image what she’d look like pinned to his bed, and pulled away abruptly.
“Sloppy,” he said harshly, and he bit down the wave of regret that swam through his chest at the spark of hurt that flickered in her eyes before it was gone. “Again.”
It continued like that for the next forty minutes – short barking commands and a growing aura of frustration emanating from her, until he had her flat against the mat, his knee digging into her back as he locked her arms behind her.
“You’re telegraphing,” he said. When she didn’t respond, instead panting into the mat, he couldn’t help but goad her a little. “And here I thought Natalia was supposed to be teaching you.” She near pushed him off with a snarl, and he watched as she stood up, and he hid the minute flinch at the quickly darkening bruises manifesting on her exposed skin.
Too harsh. He swallowed when she winced. She is not Natalia. This is not the Red Room.
“Insult me all you want, but don’t blame Tasha.” He blinked, cocking his head to the side. She had returned to her side of the mats, crouched in her starting position, and when he didn’t move she bared her teeth at him. “Again.”
“… No.” He shook his head. “We’re done for today.”
“Like hell!” she retorted fiercely. “Tasha never lets me leave until I get one good takedown.”
He glowered. “Natalia is not here.”
She didn’t budge, scowling back at him with equal fervor, and said, “I get that being here with me is the last place you want to be, but do it again.”
He looked at her, and thought, that’s not true. But he pushed his thoughts aside, and nodded tersely before he lunged.
This time he was pleasantly surprised when she moved with the force of his strike, feet sliding back as she pivoted and grabbed his metal arm for an over-the-shoulder throw. It failed, though – he was at least twice her weight, not to mention the fact that his center of gravity was way off a normal human’s – and he let out a tiny smile when she squawked at the lack of momentum, her feet sliding out from under her and falling face-forward.
He caught her around the waist, his arm banding under her breasts as he pulled her upright and against his chest. “Better,” he murmured, reveling in the warm flesh quivering under his fingers, before stepping back, watching her stumble and catch her balance as he retreated. “And you’re wrong.”
She turned, huffing in disappointment. “Wrong about what?”
He cocked his head to the side and studied her, hair mussed and cheeks flushed from exertion, and he had to clench his hands, the phantom feeling of her skin lingering on his fingertips. “I do want to be here. Just not so good at talking anymore,” he said simply, and her mouth fell open in surprise when he shrugged a little, self-deprecating and shy. “To pretty dames, anyways.”
He turned around and left before she could say anything in reply.