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CW: Switch James, switch Dahlia, James has a braid and a man bun (I saw a piece of fan art by jamesborky on Tumblr and went absolutely feral), pegging, pussy worship, blowjobs, spit kink, collars, bondage, spanking, vibrators, and the return of the gymnastics rings.
Nearly 8k words of smut with a dash of plot! Please remember to vote and comment, interaction and engagement is so important! As always, the reads to votes and comments ratio is really bad. Even interacting with an emoji is helpful to boost fics. My fics aren't doing nearly the numbers that they used to, and interaction is way down. Please support fic writers by leaving comments.
JAMES
He heads downstairs, the dismembered bouquet of roses clutched in his fist. Dahlia is upstairs putting her hair in rollers before they settle in to watch a movie in bed. She wants to watch Die Hard for the fortieth time, and he wants to read a book.
Tomorrow, it's Dahlia's turn to be in charge, and then he's hired a driver to take them both to a very exclusive nightclub in Florence. She wants to have fun and let loose, and James wants to get to know his wife again without all of the bullshit that surrounds their jobs. She doesn't know about the club yet, he wants to spring that on her.
But as excited as he is about all of this, the nagging sensation that Ultron is watching their every move is starting to get to him. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He promised her that he wouldn't use it, but he has to talk to Sam. James walks into the kitchen and places the bouquet down on the kitchen island as hundreds of missed texts and emails come through. Most of them are hotel-related, a couple of time off requests from MJ that Thor has already approved.
But then something catches his eye, an email with the subject line: THANKS FOR THE SHOW 😘
James's brows pinch together and then a small flashing red light flickers out of the corner of his eye. His head turns so fast it nearly spins and he reaches for the bouquet, finding a small recording device attached. Instantly, his body is in fight or flight mode, leaning more toward fight. His fist curls and he turns it over in his hands. It's a bug, not a camera, thank god. James has used these in the past to record meetings with rivals. He's stuck them to their cars, their kitchen tables, you name it. The red light usually means that the battery is about to die, and the audio goes straight to the laptop of whoever set it up.
He looks down at the email, a sinking feeling in his gut. Someone's already got the file.
The email is encrypted and rage floods James's body as he opens it up. There's only a fucking winky face emoji attached, but he knows who did this. He quickly forwards the email to Scott Lang.
I want you to find out everything you can about this sender. I think it's Ultron— actually, I'm 99% sure. I need to know how he found this address when this property wasn't bought under my name, and I own four more villas in this fucking country.
