CW: BDSM, blindfolding, cum spitting (sorrysorrysorrysorryi'msosorryfeminism), choking, flogging, oral sex, bondage, rough blowjobs.
DAHLIA
"You're here to obey me, Dahlia."
His voice is rough, lips pressed against her ear as he pulls her hair back and twists it into an elegant braid before getting to his feet.
"Yes, sir."
She's kneeling on the floor, head down and her wrists bound with rope. There's a blindfold over her eyes and her heart is thumping against her ribs. She can feel him circling her like a shark, dragging the tip of his knife across her bare shoulders. He's calm, collected, and Dahlia can't fucking wait to see what he's going to do.
"You're mine today, peach. That means that I get to use you however I want."
"Yes, sir."
She's soaked through her panties and sweat gathers between her thighs. He's been doing this for twenty minutes now. Torturing her. This whole thing with Ultron has made him crave control, and Dahlia wants to give it to him.
His lips glide up and down her neck.
"That's my girl. You want to be fucked, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You want my big cock inside of you? Want me to make you scream?"
"Yes, sir."
Her voice is growing more ragged by the second as arousal grips her nerve endings, pulling them apart piece by piece. All of her senses feel heightened and her head turns every so often when she hears his bare feet brushing against the carpet. They're downstairs in the basement of their house in Florence. James has his own little space down here, full of paddles, knives, guns, vibrators, and anything else they could possibly think of. It's their little slice of heaven in Italy. She wants to build one in their Malibu home, but they haven't had the time to bring a contractor in.
And pay him to keep quiet.
"Stand up, peach."
He takes her bound hands and helps guide her to her feet. She's not wearing anything other than a pair of panties, at his request. After Father Paul left, James told her to go downstairs, strip for him, and wait. She found his favorite pair of lace panties in a drawer. Her only request was that he cut them off of her and shove them down her throat.
In his words, "I would be delighted to honor that request, prinţesă."
"Arms up."
His voice is husky and deep, and Dahlia lets out a soft breath as she swallows the metaphorical cotton ball in her throat.
"You're trembling," James observers, his calloused hands gliding up and down her waist.
She whimpers when he pinches her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. All she feels is pleasure, and it doesn't fucking matter that she can't see right now.
"Dahlia?"
"Yes, daddy."
"What color?"
"Green," she whispers.
"Good, you control this, okay?" His voice is right next to her ear. "Tell me you understand."
"I understand, sir."
"That's my girl."
They've done this so many times, their consent is like clockwork. She knows him so well. He doesn't push further if she says yellow, and she's only said red once.
Dahlia remembers that night well. It was a few weeks after they'd gotten married. He used a flogger on her back and broke the skin. She thought she could take it, and she screamed for more, but when he checked in with her, she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.
James stopped everything in a split second, scooped her up, and brought her to the bedroom.
Her body was going into shock. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. James wrapped her in a blanket and calmed her down. He hydrated her and held her close to his chest, terrified that he had broken her beyond repair. She bounced back quickly, but he was already in crisis mode. He made her a cup of tea, and sent for Stephen Strange to take a look at the wounds on her back. They then had a long conversation about Dahlia knowing her limits and sticking to them.
That was two years ago, and tonight, he's going to use the flogger again. She's better at this now, and never pushes herself further than she knows she can go.
James lifts her hands and she can hear metal clinking as he ties her to the hook in the ceiling.
He leaves her ankles untied and she's secure on the ground, her feet firmly planted.
James has thought of everything. She can hear his breath, calm and focused, and then feel his mouth on her neck, sliding down her skin until he gets to her nipples, capturing one of them and sucking. Dahlia's back arches and she presses her body into him as James swirls his tongue around her nipple.
"I love these perfect tits," he growls, shoving his face between them.
His hands are strong, gripping her waist tightly until one slides down her back to grab her ass. Dahlia squeals as his fingers sink into her skin and his mouth works its way back up her torso, her neck, and eventually eclipses hers. Their tongues twine and he puts everything he has into this, both hands on her face like the first time he kissed her in his kitchen. She's never forgotten that, or the electricity that came with his mouth pressed against hers. He was gentle and demanding all at once. He's only gotten better over the years.
James always captures her top lip first, sucking on it a little before he pushes his tongue into her mouth and devours her. He kisses like he's starved for her. If this ever changed, she knows something would be wrong.
Dahlia wraps a leg around him, letting the ropes hold her up while one foot anchors her to the ground. His cock presses against her thigh and he begins to grind it slowly as he sucks on her bottom lip, eventually tugging on it with his teeth.
This is the best kiss she's ever had.
James pulls back and Dahlia opens her mouth, whimpering for more. She can't see a goddamn thing, but she doesn't need to be able to. He shoves his fingers beneath the lace of her panties, teasing her clit and coating his fingers with her arousal. They push inside of her and she wails.
Then, they're pushed between her lips.
"Suck," he whispers. She swirls her tongue around his fingers, the sharpness coating her tongue. He lets out a raspy moan. "That's a good girl."
Once they're clean, James pulls them out of her mouth and trails them down her throat.
And then she feels both hands on her hips.
And then a tongue.
Between her thighs.
Slow circles. Methodical. Teasing. Through her panties.
This man really fucking takes his time, hovering his lips above her throbbing clit and humming before giving it a gentle suck. Dahlia yelps and James chuckles into her cunt, both hands sliding behind her to grab her ass. She can feel the blade of the knife against her skin and it only makes her more feral.
She's a live wire, fraying at the edges, aching for her pussy to be devoured, but he doesn't give it to her. Each stroke of his tongue is delicate, like a paintbrush on canvas. She only feels the softest of flicks against her swollen clit. The friction is nice, but only for a moment.
And then he blows on it and Dahlia nearly comes right there.
Suddenly, his large hand cups her face.
"I'm going to cut your panties off." He snaps the waistband of her panties. "They're in the way."
"They are," she agrees. "Shove them in my mouth, daddy. Treat me like a whore. I belong to you."
He ghosts his mouth over hers, nipping at her bottom lip. His breath fans against her skin.
"Is that what you want? I need to hear it, and I need to hear what color."
"Yes." She grunts. "Green. So green."
She feels him step back, the cool air filling the space between their bodies. Her skin is on fire and then she feels the tip of his knife drag across her belly. Dahlia gasps and then a giggle bubbles up from her throat. James chuckles and she hears, and feels, the elastic on her panties snap. When her mouth opens to let out a moan, he rips the fabric from her body and shoves it between her teeth. She tastes herself and her cunt throbs and aches.
"You spit that out and I'll punish you. Is that clear?"
Dahlia nods and feels his knuckles brush her cheek.
"You're such a good girl, Dahlia."
The praise makes every hair on her body stand on end. She moans through the fabric and he presses a kiss to her cheek.
"I'm going to hit you now," he rumbles. "Nod your head if your color is still green."
She can't nod vigorously enough and she's rewarded with another kiss.
"That's my girl."
She can hear his feet smacking against the floor as he walks away. James makes each movement louder, knowing that she can't see. Her head turns in his direction and she bites down harder on her panties in anticipation. Every cell in her body is on high alert, and she can feel heat creeping down her chest. She wants to call his name, to moan for him. She craves his presence.
And then she feels something soft, like fringe on a leather jacket. It brushes against her ass, and then there's a light smack on her left up. Dahlia gasps, feeling him looming over her. The flogger brushes against her ass, around to her other hip, and across her belly. She can feel his breath against her face.
"The first hit's yours. Where do you want it?"
He takes the underwear out of her mouth and she coughs.
"Against my pussy, sir."
"Yeah?" The arousal in his voice makes her even hotter. He shoves her panties back between her teeth. "Spread your legs for daddy."
She staggers her stance and feels him drag the flogger up each thigh, and then there's a sharp, harsh smack, followed by pain that pulses through her as he hits her cunt. She trembles and her knees wobble. James grabs her by the waist, his nose dragging along her neck.
"You're okay. Nod your head if your color is green, peach."
She does. She needs more.
"I'm going to spank that pretty little ass now, and make it nice and red, and you won't be able to sit right for a week."
Dahlia growls and James chuckles.
"You like that, don't you, peach?"
"Yes, sir."
She can feel his lips brushing against her ear, his entire body pressing into her. His cock is hard, grinding against her ass. He's naked. When they started this, he had a pair of dress pants on and nothing else. Dahlia's head falls back, resting on his shoulder and he sucks gently on her earlobe.
"You tell me if you need a break. Okay, Dahlia? Nod."
The use of her name is meant to take her out of the scene, to ground her. They established this two years ago. James likes to get... intense with his sessions, and she's learned to be able to take it. She takes a breath and nods.
"That's my girl."
The soft leather tails of the flogger brush against her ass and she can't help but let out a whimper. Her clit pulses and aches, her legs trembling, barely able to hold her body up. Thank god she's tied to this thing.
"Deep breath," James rasps. "I'm going to give you three."
She wants five.
But he won't push it.
She already knows how hard he's going to hit.
Dahlia nods her head and makes a little high pitched sound of approval, and then hears the flogger slice through the air. There's a sharp sting against her ass, followed by an intense burning sensation. She's used to his hand, and the cool rings that adorn it, but this is so much different. Dahlia's body jolts at the pain that quickly transforms into a rush of excitement and her own arousal drips down her thighs. James soothes the sting with his palm, sliding it along her skin and pressing his body against hers.
"Good girl." She smiles through the panties caught between her teeth and then his hand drifts between her legs. "Fuck, you're dripping for me."
She nods and James kisses her shoulder.
"Second one is coming up."
She gives him a grunt of acknowledgement and takes a breath before feeling that same sting again. The blindfold amps everything up. Her heart is racing, blood roars in her ears, and she can't focus on anything else but the fact that her nipples are so hard that they hurt, quickly followed by the thought that if she doesn't get fucked soon, she might die. There's a deep ache in her cunt, a starvation that she only feels when she's with him. It's a need to be filled, to be owned, to be slapped and spat on and degraded.
Because James Barnes is the only person who makes Dahlia feel safe.
She lived in terror of a man hurting her, but James showed her how to take back that control.
The urge to scream is lodged in her throat.
"Last one, Dahlia. Oh, fuck, you're doing so good for daddy."
James hits her a third time and her mouth opens so wide that her panties tumble onto the floor as she cries out. The pain is scorching, mixing with bliss and making her eyes roll back behind her blindfold. She hears him drop the flogger onto the ground and his hand snakes around her throat, his lips pressed against hers, sucking on the bottom one until tears leak from her eyes.
"That's a bad girl, peach."
"I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't hold it. I wanted to scream for you."
His other hand is gentle, gliding up her waist to play with her nipples. He's purposely avoiding her cunt and it's driving her insane. James cups her pussy, pushing the heel of his hand against her clit and letting her grind against it like an animal.
"Fuck, you're desperate. I can smell it on you. You're soaking my fucking hand, you pathetic little whore."
"Yes, daddy. Just for you."
"You're my little whore, aren't you?"
"Yes, daddy!"
"My little whore who's ready for me any time I want her."
"Always, daddy. I'm your little toy."
He slides two fingers into her pussy, curling them and Dahlia cries out. For a moment, the ache is satiated.
"Thank you!" She sobs as he fucks her slowly. "Thank you, daddy."
"You want my cock, don't you?"
"Yes."
"You're going to have it down your throat."
"No!"
He slaps her across the face and her blindfold loosens, falling slightly askew. James grips her chin, turning her head back to face him and Dahlia decides to be a brat, spitting in his face. She can see the bottom half of his face, his mouth curling into a snarl.
"You're asking to be punished, aren't you?"
"Show me what you can do to me, sir. Fuck me until I can't walk."
Suddenly, she's falling and hears the rope snap. Dahlia drops to her knees and James tears her blindfold off and she looks up at his exquisite frame, perfectly sculpted, tattooed, and looming over her. His cock is right in her face, red and dripping precum. He doesn't ask for permission, doesn't wait for gentleness. His hand grips her hair and with one vicious thrust, his cock is all the way down her throat. His cock meets resistance and Dahlia chokes and sputters, saliva dripping down her chin as he fucks her face.
"You're my dirty little fucking slut," he growls. "Imi apartii."
You belong to me.
It's even hotter when he says it in another language.
Her wrists are still bound together, but she raises her hands and wraps them around his cock, trying to provide some kind of buffer so that he doesn't choke her to death. James doesn't seem to care what she does, he's lost. When she looks up at him, his head is tilted back, mouth agape, and his eyes closed. The muscles in his abs clench each time he thrusts into her. She squeezes her thighs together and moans as he fucks her mouth, spittle and tears streaming down her face. When he looks down at her, she feels a mixture of humiliation and euphoria. She knows there's smeared makeup, she applied extra mascara just so that it would look darker when it dripped won her face. James likes it like that.
Her sticky red lipgloss is smeared all over her face, she can feel it clinging to the fine hairs on her cheeks and taste it on his dick. She's stroking him with both hands, his cock pulsing in between them, throbbing in her mouth. The salty taste of his precum is intense on her tongue, and all she wants is more. There's something so precious and beautiful about being treated like this, and knowing that once they're finished, there's a bath, rose petals, candles, and champagne waiting for her. James fucks her like he's going to break her, but he treats her like a Queen.
"I'm gonna come," he groans.
She wants to tell him that she wants him to come inside of her, that she's so wound up that it hurts, but he doesn't give her the opportunity. Today is about him and what he wants, and what he wants is to treat her like an object.
James pulls his cock out of her mouth and strokes it hard and fast, and then thick ropes of cum coat her face as he lets out a feral moan. It drips onto her tits and she smears it around with her bound hands, licking the remnants off of her mouth. Suddenly, she's tackled to the ground and he's pinning her arms to the floor and thrusting inside of her.
He's still fucking hard.
His tongue drags along her cheek and he licks up his own cum, and then spits it into her open mouth.
"Swallow," he growls. "Be a good girl."
She obeys and then lets out a scream as she wraps her legs around his waist. James fucks her so hard that their bodies move across the floor. His toes dig into the carpet for more leverage as the grip on her wrists grows tighter by the second, the other hand wrapping around her throat, cutting off her blood flow. Every stroke his heaven, hitting her G-spot as the most pathetic and sinful moans spill from her lips. His hipbones graze against he swollen clit and his mouth crashes against hers. She tastes salt, sharpness, and cherry lipgloss. It's intoxicating, better than any liquor she's ever had.
It's them. Their love. Their madness.
"Daddy, let me come," she whines against his mouth. "Please let me come."
"Please," he begs. "Come for me, peach. All over daddy's cock."
He slides his hand into one of hers and their fingers link as she fucks her deeper and harder— but not faster. James is very good at knowing the difference. Dahlia's toes curl and she digs her heels into his muscular ass, feeling it flex with each thrust. She can feel his balls slapping against her and his moans become louder and higher-pitched, eyes closing and fluttering until she can see the whites of them.
She clenches around him, so tight that it fucking hurts and she thinks she's getting a muscle cramp, but to her surprise, there's a beautiful release.
Pure ecstasy rushes through her veins, warm and tingling, all the way to the tips of her fingers and she comes with a cry. James's hips still, his cock twitching and pulsing inside of her. Cum leaks down her ass as he fills her to the brim. Dahlia watches the muscles in his arms jump and ripple beneath his skin. He shudders, his back arching as he milks the rest of his climax.
But he's not finished.
James pulls out of her, his thick cock leaving her hollowed out. He shimmies down her body and drags his tongue through her folds, cleaning her dripping cunt and swallowing their intoxicating mixture. He climbs back over her and flashes her a big, beaming smile and she wraps her arms around the back of his neck as their mouths collide. The kiss is slow, yet there's a desperation to it. It feels like whatever rage he's still feeling toward Ultron has permeated their session, but it only made it hotter.
He laughs, his kisses softening as his body sinks into hers.
"I've got champagne, lemon bubble bath, roses, and a charcuterie board with our names on it."
Dahlia lets out a happy sigh.
"I can't wait to marry you again, Mr. Barnes."
"That's funny, I was just thinking the same thing."
The doorbell rings and they both freeze. James's head snaps up as a shuddering breath rockets through him.
Another ring.
"James..."
"Stay here. Run the bath. I'll bring the champagne down."
He kisses her and gets to his feet, untying her wrists before he grabs a robe, and then his pistol. Nobody other than Thor and Wanda are supposed to know that they're here.
Rebecca doesn't count, because she can find anyone anywhere.
There's a bathroom attached to the room they're using so that he doesn't have to carry her too far to the bath. Dahlia pushes her hair out of her face as James heads upstairs, quickly tying his robe around his waist. She runs the bath, spotting bottle of champagne on ice and two crystal glasses. There's a small plate of fruit and a bouquet of pink roses that make the bathroom smell gorgeous. Dahlia scrubs her face and pulls her hair into a ponytail. She then pours some lemon-scented bubble bath into the water and smiles. Upstairs, she hears the door shut and then the sound of frantic footsteps. Dahlia lingers by the tub as James appears in the doorway holding a bouquet of pink dahlias.
The card is shaking in his hand. He looks petrified, and Dahlia's stomach knots.
"James, what's wrong?"
"I promised you no work shit, but this is important."
Her heart thuds against her ribs and she holds out a trembling hand as James passes her the card. Dahlia turns it over.
He's everywhere.
Call me. Boston.
- KB
"Oh my god."
"This came with the flowers," he whispers, producing a USB drive from his pocket. "I should look at it—"
"No. You should call your sister," Dahlia whispers. "I'm gonna call Kate."
"Dahlia, this could be a setup," James warns. "There are a lot of people who want me dead who know that I'm connected to Kate and the Widows."
She drags in a breath.
"I know what Boston means. It's something only we would know."
James blinks and Dahlia bites her lip.
"She has a secret burner phone. Not even Yelena knows about it." She wasn't supposed to betray Kate's trust like this, but if she sent these flowers, she sent them for Dahlia.
"Secret phone? What for?"
"It was in case she wanted to get out. She could be reaching out for help."
"It could be compromised," James
"Just... let me try," Dahlia replies.
She moves past him and back into the play room, grabbing her phone off of the couch and dials the number she has memorized. Dahlia never programmed it into her phone. Kate is a careful and meticulous person, even if she doesn't look like it. She knew what she was getting into when she fell in love with Yelena, but she also gave herself a life raft and the means to reach it if she felt like things were getting bad. Now, Dahlia wonders what pushed her to this point. Yelena's lust for power that is not unlike James's? Ultron? Or is this life just weighing on her the way it's weighing on Dahlia?
She feels James's arm slip around her waist and he kisses her cheek, letting her know that he's here.
"Whatever happens, it's you and me, peach."
"I know," she whispers. "I just want to make sure Kate's okay—"
"Dahlia!" Kate's voice is pinched and alive with terror. "Sorry, I had to lock myself in the bathroom."
"Kate, what's going on?"
"Put her on speaker," James insists.
"Kate, I'm putting you on speaker."
"Is James there?"
"Yes. I had to tell him about the phone—"
"No, it's... it's fine. It's probably better this way."
Those five words make Dahlia sick to her stomach as she hits the speakerphone button.
"You're on, Kate."
"I don't have a lot of time, so I need the two of you to shut the fuck up and listen to me."
"Yes, ma'am," James murmurs.
"Ultron is threatening to take everything from Yelena. I had a bad feeling about Ultron, so I called Scott—"
"I called Scott about him, too," James replies.
"Yeah, well, I don't know what he's looking for on your end, but on our end, Ultron is in deep with Yelena's father. He's promising marriage, promising to 'take care of her ambitious nature', and he wants to kill me. I showed Yelena everything that Scott sent me and she's panicking. Her own father doesn't want her running the city anymore. We can't—" Kate goes quiet and Dahlia is breathing so hard that she can hear herself. "Sorry, I thought that was him. He's in a meeting with Yelena. But, James, he doesn't intend to give you that development."
"I didn't think so."
"He was going to lure you there and kill you, and then he would be poised to take over everything in New York and Los Angeles. This hotel thing is just a front, someone else is pulling the strings. This guy's a big time mobster, and he came up fast... it was like he learned from someone."
"Who?" James asks.
"The guy had connections with John Walker, he's tight with Helmut Zemo, and there were emails that were exchanged between him and Steve Rogers about what they referred to as the 'California Problem.' That's you, if you hadn't guessed by now, big guy. If Ultron can't kill you, he'll put you in prison for the murders of John Walker, Rhodey Rhodes, Thanos, and Ivan Vanko."
James's jaw ticks. Steve had been setting James up for years and making him think that the two of them were going to rule over California. And then Dahlia came along and fucked everything up. Steve was poised to take half of this empire, but even before Dahlia's presence in James's life, he wanted more.
"I get it. So, Ultron's come back to finish the job."
"It looks that way. James, I need fake passports, fake IDs—"
"I can get that all for you," James replies. "But I need you to sit tight and act as if everything is normal and you come and meet someone in California. I have property in Bucharest in case anything goes wrong. Yelena doesn't know about it, and it's off the books. You'll both be safe there. Can you do that for me?"
Dahlia didn't know about it either. She'd be angry, but for once she's thankful that her husband has some tricks up his sleeve.
"Thank you. We'll meet next week. I'll call you again from this phone."
"We'll keep you safe, Kate."
"What do we do about Ultron?"
James's eyes darken, eyes becoming icy.
"You let me worry about that. I think he and I need to have a meeting. Alone."
"Not alone," Dahlia whispers. "He wants me. He'll get me."
"Okay, you guys hatch whatever plot you have to, but I've gotta go. I love you both. The flowers are for your wedding. I'm sending another gift. See you when you get back."
"Bye, Kate."
The line clicks and Dahlia takes a deep breath.
And then her phone buzzes again.
[wands]: Cops said they found Loki's body, but Thor and I went to the morgue to identify the body. It's not him, babe. They're saying it's him because of the damage to the face, but Loki's eyes are green, this guy had blue eyes. The cops don't give a shit about some missing mobster, and now all of a sudden they want to launch a full-scale investigation?
She shows the text to James, who sighs. Dahlia can see the rage building in his body, like a volcano threatening to explode.
"I gotta go make a call."
"James, we don't have to get married here—"
"Yes we do!" He shouts as he storms up the stairs. "Ultron is trying to fucking frame me and I'm not letting this fuck things up for us! Not again!"
Dahlia knows how this goes, because it all plays out like clockwork. Every single time. The anger in her husband's eyes in unmatched, and he's already planning something. She takes a breath and sends Wanda a text.
We're going to kill Ultron.
After a few seconds, her phone buzzes.
[wands]: Thor says we're in.