terms of consent (closed!RP | adult)
At first glance, someone might expect their roles to be different. Clara is taller, obviously protective, with the body of an athlete who is in control of every one of her muscles. Nat is petite, moves with a sort of liquid grace and doesn't look much like she could over-power anyone. That is, of course, until someone looks a little harder, and notices how the smooth fluidity of Natasha's movements also betray a certain danger. A warning sign that is broadcast in every turn of her body, and every step she takes. They might notice how Clara, confident and sure of herself always tends to look to the smaller woman for approval. How she hangs back for a moment, responds to what the red-head directs, so that in turn, Nat can respond to what she needs. They work as a team, seamlessly, but there's an order to it, one that allows them both to keep each other in check.
So when then mission had come up--a series of killings of some high profile women who apparently were engaged in the BDSM scene--and they'd needed a pair who could not only pull off high-stakes undercover work, but who were also willing to engage in some less-than-vanilla activities for the good of the nation, Phil had called them in. It helped, in a way, that all the women this person was grabbing and torturing for information before he disposed of them had quite a bit in common with SHIELD's archer.
And now here they were, after weeks and weeks of prep work: discussing roles, preferences, safewords and limits, getting Clara used to the idea of submitting, attending the requisite munches and meetings, to get an invitation to a party held in one of the residences of the community's inner most circles. They'd finally get a chance to see how this guy--or girl, it wasn't statistically likely, but also not impossible--moved through the crowd, how he selected his victims. And they could discuss, a bit more intimately, what other couples knew, what they'd seen and heard.
The New York winter air was bitter and cold around Clara's legs, despite the fact that she was wearing hose, and she tucked her jacket just that much tighter around her person. At least the black wool and the soft scarf bundled around her neck were doing a decent job of keeping her from freezing--but she was definitely looking forward to being inside somewhere with heat. They'd parked a bit away, wanting to be able to scope out other attendees as they approached, and had already given a few nods to couples and groups they recognized as they made their trek through the snow. Clara was, as always, endlessly impressed with Nat's ease on heels in whatever terrain--she could wear heels and pull them off like she wasn't uncomfortable, but she'd never look as steady or as graceful in them as Nat did in hers.
She steps forward a bit, reaching out to slip her hand into Nat's, smiling down at the shorter woman and pressing herself against her side. Projecting perfectly the nervous anticipation of someone who was looking forward to what was to come, but needed a bit of encouragement from her Dom to make that eagerness okay. Her mind runs through their details as they cross the last street toward the warm and welcoming lights of the brownstone, though she honestly doesn't think anyone will confront them about them now. They've been laying the proper ground work for weeks, after all, and are carrying all the IDs to match. They even have STI testing documents in their fake names, background checks that come back clear, and not a single thing to tie them to SHIELD.
No, here they're Nathalie and Cara, both laywers, though Nat works with immigration law and she specializes in environmental legislation, who met five years ago when they both hailed the same cab and decided to split it. Nathalie's younger, by two years, and she's up for a promotion in the next few months. They share an apartment in Manhattan and neither of them are interested in kids. At least not now, with them both being so invested in their careers. Nathalie has been in the scene before, in a few other places (which can be confirmed by placed SHIELD contacts in each of the mentioned cities) but Cara -- like Clara -- is new. Thank god for that.
It's the last thought she has time for before Nat's pushing the doorbell and they're being welcomed inside.
So when then mission had come up--a series of killings of some high profile women who apparently were engaged in the BDSM scene--and they'd needed a pair who could not only pull off high-stakes undercover work, but who were also willing to engage in some less-than-vanilla activities for the good of the nation, Phil had called them in. It helped, in a way, that all the women this person was grabbing and torturing for information before he disposed of them had quite a bit in common with SHIELD's archer.
And now here they were, after weeks and weeks of prep work: discussing roles, preferences, safewords and limits, getting Clara used to the idea of submitting, attending the requisite munches and meetings, to get an invitation to a party held in one of the residences of the community's inner most circles. They'd finally get a chance to see how this guy--or girl, it wasn't statistically likely, but also not impossible--moved through the crowd, how he selected his victims. And they could discuss, a bit more intimately, what other couples knew, what they'd seen and heard.
The New York winter air was bitter and cold around Clara's legs, despite the fact that she was wearing hose, and she tucked her jacket just that much tighter around her person. At least the black wool and the soft scarf bundled around her neck were doing a decent job of keeping her from freezing--but she was definitely looking forward to being inside somewhere with heat. They'd parked a bit away, wanting to be able to scope out other attendees as they approached, and had already given a few nods to couples and groups they recognized as they made their trek through the snow. Clara was, as always, endlessly impressed with Nat's ease on heels in whatever terrain--she could wear heels and pull them off like she wasn't uncomfortable, but she'd never look as steady or as graceful in them as Nat did in hers.
She steps forward a bit, reaching out to slip her hand into Nat's, smiling down at the shorter woman and pressing herself against her side. Projecting perfectly the nervous anticipation of someone who was looking forward to what was to come, but needed a bit of encouragement from her Dom to make that eagerness okay. Her mind runs through their details as they cross the last street toward the warm and welcoming lights of the brownstone, though she honestly doesn't think anyone will confront them about them now. They've been laying the proper ground work for weeks, after all, and are carrying all the IDs to match. They even have STI testing documents in their fake names, background checks that come back clear, and not a single thing to tie them to SHIELD.
No, here they're Nathalie and Cara, both laywers, though Nat works with immigration law and she specializes in environmental legislation, who met five years ago when they both hailed the same cab and decided to split it. Nathalie's younger, by two years, and she's up for a promotion in the next few months. They share an apartment in Manhattan and neither of them are interested in kids. At least not now, with them both being so invested in their careers. Nathalie has been in the scene before, in a few other places (which can be confirmed by placed SHIELD contacts in each of the mentioned cities) but Cara -- like Clara -- is new. Thank god for that.
It's the last thought she has time for before Nat's pushing the doorbell and they're being welcomed inside.