Awake and Alive. NC-17.
Title: Awake and Alive
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Natasha/Wanda
Disclaimer: Not mine! The characters belong to Marvel in every incarnation, and I'm just playing with their toys. I'll put them back in better condition than I found them, promise. :)
Spoilers/Warnings: Hover text for the Russian; please correct me if I screwed anything up! Written for my darling Jessy, who loves Natasha as much as I do. AOU compliant, but I don't mention too much about what happened in the movie. You pretty much just need to know that it happened. :)
Summary: The past was there, sharp and painful, but glittering with the shards of who they had been, a hint of who they would all become.
The new team was just as good as the old team in some ways, and better in others. It had been silly to compare them at first, but Natasha couldn't help herself. Just when she thought she had a handle on what her future would hold, the ground shifted beneath her feet.
But what if I fail? she had asked once upon a time.
Madame Bolishinko had laughed at her, and she had heard clearly the derision at the moment of weakness. You never fail.
Natalia Alianovna Romanova never failed at what she put her mind to. Natasha Romanoff, on the other hand, sometimes misstepped her mark. Sometimes she was too confident, overplaying her hand, guessing too far in the opposite direction. She wasn't weak, wasn't soft, but sometimes her hesitancy at diving too deep into others meant she made mistakes. They weren't so huge that they couldn't be corrected, but they hurt just the same.
This was her team. Oh, Steve Rogers was in charge as leader and commander, but he trusted her judgment, her tactics, her skills. He trusted her. She would never betray that trust, however casually, however mistakenly. Trust, once she had given it, was inviolate.
It was the team dynamics that she sought to preserve, and this team meshed together well. Sam and Rhodey both had military background to fall back on, and they took to Steve's leadership very well that way. Vision wasn't military, but his agile mind absorbed information and structure easily, and he understood the importance of having everyone at their best and cohesive. Wanda, for all that she once had hated them and what they stood for, soon had realized that they weren't as evil as she feared them to be, and weren't the demons her childhood fears had painted them to be. They were flawed, sure, but people just the same.
But what if I fail? she asked her reflection in the mirror. She was only human, after all, with a monstrous history out in the open for all to see. What else could she do but redeem herself from it? What else could she do but shape these people into a capable team, extending her legacy of redemption, saving others from becoming the monster she had been?
You never fail, she reminded herself, stepping away from the mirror. She suited up for hand to hand with Wanda, a simple outfit meant for working out.
Magic was all well and good, but a girl had to have multiple tools in her arsenal.
Wanda wasn't at the gym at the appointed time, and she didn't arrive even ten minutes later. There was no emergency, nothing that would keep her from the sparring session. Even the boys were all off campus at the moment, some kind of bonding over beer and stupidity that they wanted Vision to experience.
Natasha found her by the reflecting pool, a quiet area tucked away near the gardens, a flowering hedge separating it from the rest of the area. Wanda sat on the marble bench, staring at the calm water, giving the appearance of not having moved for some time. She was still dressed in the black leggings and loose black shirt she had been wearing for breakfast, long necklaces lying against her chest, boots only loosely tied onto her feet.
Knowing the feel and taste of grief, Natasha sat down beside her. Wanda didn't acknowledge her presence, not even when she drew the girl's palm into her lap and laced their fingers together, or when she drew the hand up to brush the backs of her lips across the inside of Wanda's wrist, reminding her that she was alive still.
"I made you all see your fears," Wanda said finally, voice hoarse from disuse. "But my own came to pass. I am alone now."
"Are we such a poor substitute for family?" Natasha asked quietly. "We aren't the same, but we would still be your family now."
She looked at her, bleary and lost. "I have lost them all. My heart is gone."
Love is for children, Madame used to say. We only break the breakable ones.
Madame Bolishinko would destroy Wanda, but she was wrong. This wasn't being broken. She would be stronger for the bitter taste of grief, tempering her fire and directing against those who would taunt and destroy the weak. This was Wanda's trial by fire, and she would walk through it, alive and forged anew, awake to possibilities.
Natasha nodded and pulled Wanda closer to her. "Tell me about them," she said softly, gently. "Let them live again with your words."
They had been so focused on building a new foundation, they hadn't stopped to consider sifting through the wreckage beneath it. The past was there, sharp and painful, but glittering with the shards of who they had been, a hint of who they would all become.
Wanda spoke of her parents, of Pietro, of living in Sokovia, protesting the creeping world that would destroy their heritage, their memories. She spoke of living on the fringes due to her Roma heritage, of living as half of a whole, of doing nothing without Pietro.
Slowly, Natasha found herself talking about the Red Room, fragments she had tried to suppress for years. The names meant nothing to Wanda, but they did to Natasha: Professor Grigor Ivanov Chelintsov, Madame Oksana Petrova Bolishinko, Lyudmila Antonovna Kudrin, Ivan Petrovitch Bezukov, the others with only a single name that was whispered in the hallways. No, she talked about the hopelessness living in the walls, the desperation of the girls not good enough to rise to the training, breaking the useless ones, the graduation ceremony meant to leave her divorced from humanity and incapable of forming attachments.
"It did not work," Wanda said, looking at Natasha through her tears. "You still care. You still love. How? How can you do this?"
Tenderly, Natasha brushed the tears from Wanda's face and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I know what I am, what I was made to be. I know I am more than my programming. I am more than what they meant me to be. I'm not just a weapon."
"How can I be this, too?"
"You've already started, Котенок," Natasha said with a smile.
Wanda laughed a little, hands tight on Natasha's. "Лисичка," she whispered in Russian, looking at her bright red hair. They both laughed a little, friendliness and grief mixed together, hope and wariness for the future in their gazes.
It didn't matter who leaned in first. Maybe they both did at the same time, but their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss. Natasha cupped Wanda's cheek gently. "Your heart isn't gone, Wanda. It's broken, hiding away in order to heal. You still have your heart. You wait for someone worthy to wake it."
Resting her palm against Natasha's breast, Wanda's lips curled into a soft smile. "Someone like you, then. You are worthy."
Her kiss silenced Natasha's protests. This kiss wasn't gentle as before, but swirling with banked passions that were only starting to stir. Natasha held her close, licking into her mouth and stroking her tongue gently. Wanda made a soft noise of pleasure, so Natasha deepened the kiss further and let one hand slid down to cup one of Wanda's breasts through her shirt. She abraded the nipple with a thumb, and smiled against Wanda's mouth at the moan. Not wanting to break off the kiss, Natasha continued at this same leisurely pace. Wanda was pliant against her, nipping at her mouth and awkwardly caressing her breast in return. Not an expert then, but eager, ready to explore her body.
Natasha ran her hands over Wanda's side, then pulled at the leggings, exposing a stripe of skin along her hip beneath the shirt. Taking the hint, Wanda pulled back long enough to strip off the black shirt and kick off her shoes and leggings. Left in her socks and undergarments, she stood in front of Natasha. Though her stance was aggressive, she seemed a touch uncertain. "This doesn't have to mean anything," Natasha said softly, pulling her closer by her hips.
"Or it could mean everything," Wanda replied just as softly as Natasha pressed her lips to her stomach, fingers sliding into her red hair.
She let her hands roam over Wanda's ass and thighs as she feathered light kisses across her stomach, then dragged the underwear down. Nothing fancy, even a little ragged at the elastic hem, and for some reason that little detail got to Natasha. Wanda wasn't playing at anything, wasn't the kind of person that turned everything into a game. She was real and in pain, and this touch likely meant far more to her than any platitudes the rest of the team could give her. This meant she wasn't being held at arm's length, that she was truly accepted as trustworthy.
Of anyone, Natasha knew that feeling.
So she drew the fabric down Wanda's legs, ignoring the tremor she saw there, and licked up the inner thigh until she met the tangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Natasha dived right in, licking and tasting her, holding her open with her fingers. Wanda's breathing was ragged and unsteady, even if she wasn't slick yet, but there was time for that. Natasha went at a leisurely pace, learning what kind of touch Wanda liked, how hard and fast it had to be to really get her going. When her jaw hurt, she slid her fingers inside and felt Wanda clench around them, heard her breath stutter around a moan. The tremors in Wanda's legs were an entirely different quality now, desire and not nerves. Natasha kept going once able to do so comfortably, until Wanda shattered, clenching tight around the two fingers inside her, clit swollen against her tongue.
Natasha drew back and was almost amused at the disappointment in Wanda's eyes. But that faded into astonishment when Natasha laid her onto her back on the bench after unhooking her bra. She knelt on the grass next to Wanda and nudged her knees wider with her left hand. "I'm only getting started, Котенок," Natasha said softly, leaning in and licking the taut nipple. She slid her hand down to Wanda's slit, working some of her moisture onto her fingertips before rubbing at her clit. "The boys are away, so we have plenty of time to play, just us two."
"I... I like that idea," Wanda said breathlessly. She grasped Natasha's shoulder and pulled her up for a kiss, tongue swirling into Natasha's mouth. The taste of her own arousal didn't seem to bother her, and her hips bucked against Natasha's hand. "You feel good. Right."
She smiled widely, then kissed Wanda again, tongue stroking her mouth as her fingers stroked her clit. Natasha continued the leisurely kiss as Wanda moved one hand down Natasha's back to tug at her shirt, her other playing with Natasha's hair. "I want you to feel this, too," Wanda murmured against Natasha's mouth. "With me. Touch me."
It just took a little maneuvering, but then Natasha was lying on top of Wanda without her shirt on, a thigh wedged between her legs. She had one of Wanda's thighs between her own, and they started rocking against each other, rubbing at a disjointed rhythm until it clicked and they could kiss and grind down in unison. Wanda had her hands tangled in Natasha's hair, some kind of Sokovian endearment on her lips. Closer to the edge, she came first, and then unhooked Natasha's bra to try suckling on a bared breast. Natasha rode her thigh and propped herself up on one elbow so she wouldn't accidentally smother Wanda. It really was kind of awkward, and the marble bench couldn't have been very comfortable this way. But if the Sokovian didn't care about it, Natasha wasn't about to. She moved until her body tightened and her breath hissed out between her teeth, until the tension snapped and a lassitude flooded her limbs.
Wanda cradled her until they tilted and fell off of the bench. They laughed at themselves and how ridiculous this all was, but linked hands and kissed. It was slow, languorous, exploring the taste of each other now that the passion was spent.
It was being alive in each others' arms. It was pleasure without regret. It was a connection to someone else able to understand it without words, the end of a lifetime that was known being exchanged for something new and terrifying, however wanted it was.
It was belonging.
Natasha helped her dress again, and then rearranged her clothing. No hiding the dampness from the grass, but there was no one to explain it to anyway. She wasn't sure if Wanda would feel awkward about this, if she should feel awkward. But as they approached the main building, Wanda grasped her hand and grinned up at her with perfect trust, eyes alight with a joy that Natasha hadn't ever seen there before.
"Tomorrow, we spar in the usual way again. But we can enjoy the extra time, too."
She smiled, slowly and with understanding, nodding at her. "I'd like that."
Perhaps belonging to each other would be a very good thing for them both.
The End
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Natasha/Wanda
Disclaimer: Not mine! The characters belong to Marvel in every incarnation, and I'm just playing with their toys. I'll put them back in better condition than I found them, promise. :)
Spoilers/Warnings: Hover text for the Russian; please correct me if I screwed anything up! Written for my darling Jessy, who loves Natasha as much as I do. AOU compliant, but I don't mention too much about what happened in the movie. You pretty much just need to know that it happened. :)
Summary: The past was there, sharp and painful, but glittering with the shards of who they had been, a hint of who they would all become.
The new team was just as good as the old team in some ways, and better in others. It had been silly to compare them at first, but Natasha couldn't help herself. Just when she thought she had a handle on what her future would hold, the ground shifted beneath her feet.
But what if I fail? she had asked once upon a time.
Madame Bolishinko had laughed at her, and she had heard clearly the derision at the moment of weakness. You never fail.
Natalia Alianovna Romanova never failed at what she put her mind to. Natasha Romanoff, on the other hand, sometimes misstepped her mark. Sometimes she was too confident, overplaying her hand, guessing too far in the opposite direction. She wasn't weak, wasn't soft, but sometimes her hesitancy at diving too deep into others meant she made mistakes. They weren't so huge that they couldn't be corrected, but they hurt just the same.
This was her team. Oh, Steve Rogers was in charge as leader and commander, but he trusted her judgment, her tactics, her skills. He trusted her. She would never betray that trust, however casually, however mistakenly. Trust, once she had given it, was inviolate.
It was the team dynamics that she sought to preserve, and this team meshed together well. Sam and Rhodey both had military background to fall back on, and they took to Steve's leadership very well that way. Vision wasn't military, but his agile mind absorbed information and structure easily, and he understood the importance of having everyone at their best and cohesive. Wanda, for all that she once had hated them and what they stood for, soon had realized that they weren't as evil as she feared them to be, and weren't the demons her childhood fears had painted them to be. They were flawed, sure, but people just the same.
But what if I fail? she asked her reflection in the mirror. She was only human, after all, with a monstrous history out in the open for all to see. What else could she do but redeem herself from it? What else could she do but shape these people into a capable team, extending her legacy of redemption, saving others from becoming the monster she had been?
You never fail, she reminded herself, stepping away from the mirror. She suited up for hand to hand with Wanda, a simple outfit meant for working out.
Magic was all well and good, but a girl had to have multiple tools in her arsenal.
Wanda wasn't at the gym at the appointed time, and she didn't arrive even ten minutes later. There was no emergency, nothing that would keep her from the sparring session. Even the boys were all off campus at the moment, some kind of bonding over beer and stupidity that they wanted Vision to experience.
Natasha found her by the reflecting pool, a quiet area tucked away near the gardens, a flowering hedge separating it from the rest of the area. Wanda sat on the marble bench, staring at the calm water, giving the appearance of not having moved for some time. She was still dressed in the black leggings and loose black shirt she had been wearing for breakfast, long necklaces lying against her chest, boots only loosely tied onto her feet.
Knowing the feel and taste of grief, Natasha sat down beside her. Wanda didn't acknowledge her presence, not even when she drew the girl's palm into her lap and laced their fingers together, or when she drew the hand up to brush the backs of her lips across the inside of Wanda's wrist, reminding her that she was alive still.
"I made you all see your fears," Wanda said finally, voice hoarse from disuse. "But my own came to pass. I am alone now."
"Are we such a poor substitute for family?" Natasha asked quietly. "We aren't the same, but we would still be your family now."
She looked at her, bleary and lost. "I have lost them all. My heart is gone."
Love is for children, Madame used to say. We only break the breakable ones.
Madame Bolishinko would destroy Wanda, but she was wrong. This wasn't being broken. She would be stronger for the bitter taste of grief, tempering her fire and directing against those who would taunt and destroy the weak. This was Wanda's trial by fire, and she would walk through it, alive and forged anew, awake to possibilities.
Natasha nodded and pulled Wanda closer to her. "Tell me about them," she said softly, gently. "Let them live again with your words."
They had been so focused on building a new foundation, they hadn't stopped to consider sifting through the wreckage beneath it. The past was there, sharp and painful, but glittering with the shards of who they had been, a hint of who they would all become.
Wanda spoke of her parents, of Pietro, of living in Sokovia, protesting the creeping world that would destroy their heritage, their memories. She spoke of living on the fringes due to her Roma heritage, of living as half of a whole, of doing nothing without Pietro.
Slowly, Natasha found herself talking about the Red Room, fragments she had tried to suppress for years. The names meant nothing to Wanda, but they did to Natasha: Professor Grigor Ivanov Chelintsov, Madame Oksana Petrova Bolishinko, Lyudmila Antonovna Kudrin, Ivan Petrovitch Bezukov, the others with only a single name that was whispered in the hallways. No, she talked about the hopelessness living in the walls, the desperation of the girls not good enough to rise to the training, breaking the useless ones, the graduation ceremony meant to leave her divorced from humanity and incapable of forming attachments.
"It did not work," Wanda said, looking at Natasha through her tears. "You still care. You still love. How? How can you do this?"
Tenderly, Natasha brushed the tears from Wanda's face and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I know what I am, what I was made to be. I know I am more than my programming. I am more than what they meant me to be. I'm not just a weapon."
"How can I be this, too?"
"You've already started, Котенок," Natasha said with a smile.
Wanda laughed a little, hands tight on Natasha's. "Лисичка," she whispered in Russian, looking at her bright red hair. They both laughed a little, friendliness and grief mixed together, hope and wariness for the future in their gazes.
It didn't matter who leaned in first. Maybe they both did at the same time, but their lips met in a gentle, tender kiss. Natasha cupped Wanda's cheek gently. "Your heart isn't gone, Wanda. It's broken, hiding away in order to heal. You still have your heart. You wait for someone worthy to wake it."
Resting her palm against Natasha's breast, Wanda's lips curled into a soft smile. "Someone like you, then. You are worthy."
Her kiss silenced Natasha's protests. This kiss wasn't gentle as before, but swirling with banked passions that were only starting to stir. Natasha held her close, licking into her mouth and stroking her tongue gently. Wanda made a soft noise of pleasure, so Natasha deepened the kiss further and let one hand slid down to cup one of Wanda's breasts through her shirt. She abraded the nipple with a thumb, and smiled against Wanda's mouth at the moan. Not wanting to break off the kiss, Natasha continued at this same leisurely pace. Wanda was pliant against her, nipping at her mouth and awkwardly caressing her breast in return. Not an expert then, but eager, ready to explore her body.
Natasha ran her hands over Wanda's side, then pulled at the leggings, exposing a stripe of skin along her hip beneath the shirt. Taking the hint, Wanda pulled back long enough to strip off the black shirt and kick off her shoes and leggings. Left in her socks and undergarments, she stood in front of Natasha. Though her stance was aggressive, she seemed a touch uncertain. "This doesn't have to mean anything," Natasha said softly, pulling her closer by her hips.
"Or it could mean everything," Wanda replied just as softly as Natasha pressed her lips to her stomach, fingers sliding into her red hair.
She let her hands roam over Wanda's ass and thighs as she feathered light kisses across her stomach, then dragged the underwear down. Nothing fancy, even a little ragged at the elastic hem, and for some reason that little detail got to Natasha. Wanda wasn't playing at anything, wasn't the kind of person that turned everything into a game. She was real and in pain, and this touch likely meant far more to her than any platitudes the rest of the team could give her. This meant she wasn't being held at arm's length, that she was truly accepted as trustworthy.
Of anyone, Natasha knew that feeling.
So she drew the fabric down Wanda's legs, ignoring the tremor she saw there, and licked up the inner thigh until she met the tangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Natasha dived right in, licking and tasting her, holding her open with her fingers. Wanda's breathing was ragged and unsteady, even if she wasn't slick yet, but there was time for that. Natasha went at a leisurely pace, learning what kind of touch Wanda liked, how hard and fast it had to be to really get her going. When her jaw hurt, she slid her fingers inside and felt Wanda clench around them, heard her breath stutter around a moan. The tremors in Wanda's legs were an entirely different quality now, desire and not nerves. Natasha kept going once able to do so comfortably, until Wanda shattered, clenching tight around the two fingers inside her, clit swollen against her tongue.
Natasha drew back and was almost amused at the disappointment in Wanda's eyes. But that faded into astonishment when Natasha laid her onto her back on the bench after unhooking her bra. She knelt on the grass next to Wanda and nudged her knees wider with her left hand. "I'm only getting started, Котенок," Natasha said softly, leaning in and licking the taut nipple. She slid her hand down to Wanda's slit, working some of her moisture onto her fingertips before rubbing at her clit. "The boys are away, so we have plenty of time to play, just us two."
"I... I like that idea," Wanda said breathlessly. She grasped Natasha's shoulder and pulled her up for a kiss, tongue swirling into Natasha's mouth. The taste of her own arousal didn't seem to bother her, and her hips bucked against Natasha's hand. "You feel good. Right."
She smiled widely, then kissed Wanda again, tongue stroking her mouth as her fingers stroked her clit. Natasha continued the leisurely kiss as Wanda moved one hand down Natasha's back to tug at her shirt, her other playing with Natasha's hair. "I want you to feel this, too," Wanda murmured against Natasha's mouth. "With me. Touch me."
It just took a little maneuvering, but then Natasha was lying on top of Wanda without her shirt on, a thigh wedged between her legs. She had one of Wanda's thighs between her own, and they started rocking against each other, rubbing at a disjointed rhythm until it clicked and they could kiss and grind down in unison. Wanda had her hands tangled in Natasha's hair, some kind of Sokovian endearment on her lips. Closer to the edge, she came first, and then unhooked Natasha's bra to try suckling on a bared breast. Natasha rode her thigh and propped herself up on one elbow so she wouldn't accidentally smother Wanda. It really was kind of awkward, and the marble bench couldn't have been very comfortable this way. But if the Sokovian didn't care about it, Natasha wasn't about to. She moved until her body tightened and her breath hissed out between her teeth, until the tension snapped and a lassitude flooded her limbs.
Wanda cradled her until they tilted and fell off of the bench. They laughed at themselves and how ridiculous this all was, but linked hands and kissed. It was slow, languorous, exploring the taste of each other now that the passion was spent.
It was being alive in each others' arms. It was pleasure without regret. It was a connection to someone else able to understand it without words, the end of a lifetime that was known being exchanged for something new and terrifying, however wanted it was.
It was belonging.
Natasha helped her dress again, and then rearranged her clothing. No hiding the dampness from the grass, but there was no one to explain it to anyway. She wasn't sure if Wanda would feel awkward about this, if she should feel awkward. But as they approached the main building, Wanda grasped her hand and grinned up at her with perfect trust, eyes alight with a joy that Natasha hadn't ever seen there before.
"Tomorrow, we spar in the usual way again. But we can enjoy the extra time, too."
She smiled, slowly and with understanding, nodding at her. "I'd like that."
Perhaps belonging to each other would be a very good thing for them both.
The End