She doesn't say another word, taking his hand in hers. She mutters something to the owner of the diner about starting a tab to make up for all the extra cash she threw around.
Natasha knows she's too scared to think straight, she's been the one playing that game on people before, too. Abuse the weakness, exploit basic human decency to get what you want any way you can get it. It was all part of the job. Or at least it used to be.
She silently takes them to her apartment, which isn't much of a home. Tasha doesn't spend a lot of time there. There's a desk with work papers scattered on it, a small kitchen and living room and the bedroom and bathroom off to the side.
Natasha drops Bucky's hand once they're inside. She starts pacing the apartment nervously, unsure why she's feeling this way. The Skrulls, the lose of her inhibitions at the diner, the guilt of pushing Bucky like that? She's not sure why but she has an overwhelming urge to break down and cry.
She sinks down onto her sofa, burying her face in her hands. She can't let
( ... )
She does catch his meaning, and that's all it takes for her to relax and simply enjoy the moment. For all she knows it could be the last chance she has with him if the damned world starts ending any second. Natasha doesn't like that idea of losing someone she gives a damn about right when she started to realize she gave a damn about him. She nods before pressing her lips back on his, using the weight of her body to push him down.
He leans back on the couch, allowing her to rest atop him. He's doing a good job of hiding the fact that he's just as fucking scared as she is. Intimacy is just as foreign to him as it is to her; he was quite the heartbreaker back in the day, and while he had a lot of experience with women, intimacy was one thing he did not have experience with. Because it was a whole lot easier and a whole lot less scary to not let anyone close. It's never meant anything to him before. Sex is supposed to be fun; it isn't supposed to be scary. But James Barnes, sexual libertine, feels like he's about to lose his virginity.
As he looks up at her, a hint of vulnerability shows through on his face, and it's strange to think that just a moment ago, he was the one comforting her. He leans up, closing the distance between their lips again.
Natasha's sexual exploits began a lot younger than they should have, but she deals with it just like she deals with everything. That is to say...she doesn't. She pushes aside the guilt, the regrets, the shame of what she did in her past and pretends nothing bothers her about it. The violence, the manipulation, the seduction, she tells herself they don't make her a bad person.
But they do. Or they did. She's trying to change that, wipe that ledger a little bit cleaner each day. Some days are better than others.
She shivers at the kiss, wrapping her fingers around the back his neck more gently that she would someone else. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." Natasha whispers between soft kisses. She wants to, so badly. She wants to feel alive and unafraid for what could be the last time in her life and she wants it to be with him, but it's clear something's bothering him.
She doesn't say a word, instead deepening the kiss to to point she may lose track of where her lips and tongue end and his begin, pouring all the intensity she has left in her into it.
If he's in anyway unclear on her answer to his question, it's a resounding yes.
"Mm!" It's not an unpleasantly surprised sound like when they were at the diner, and it ends in a sigh. His fingers thread through her hair, pulling her closer still, free hand resting on her lower back. That hand, too, pulls her closer, enough for their hips to connect, and he sighs again. That, in turn, is his own answer.
A low gravelly moan forces it's way from her when their hips press together, desires she's been pushing aside for too long surfacing again. Natasha shifts her weight, varying the pressure from her body in motions that rival a dancers grace, subtly letting him know exactly what she wants from him once they dispense with these clothes.
Of course there's nothing subtle about the way she's biting at his lower lip, her growing need becoming clear with every nip of her teeth.
He smirks against her lips at that moan, amused that she's so aroused already. Of course, he himself is already aroused- something Natasha will feel distinctly with the next upward thrust of his hips. The hand on her back travels lower to feel her ass.
Oh, she can tell. There's another encouraging moan when he moves his hand lower, followed by Natasha letting out a chuckle that sounds nearly victorious. "Careful." She pulls her lips away while pressing her body more tightly against him, her voice a teasing whisper. "A girl will starting thinking you have intentions if you keep this up."
He damn well better have intentions, because she does.
A low, purr of encouragement comes out of her mouth instead of words in response. She presses her hips even tighter to him than he's already pushing her with his hand, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Then I'd say you'd better make good on those intentions before the world ends and you don't have the chance."
He frowns, looking at her a long moment. "The world isn't ending, Tasha." But still, he wants it, too. He just doesn't like the idea that this might not be happening right now if Natasha didn't think the world was about to end.
"Yanno, I think this would be a lot easier without clothes," he remarks, snapped out of his thoughts by the grinding of her hips.
It's not about a last desperate attempt to get laid. It's the complete opposite in fact. Sometimes it takes the thought of losing someone you care about to make you brave enough to show them they really matter to you. She may tease him, that kiss earlier that day for example, but deep down she cares about him more than most. The fact he got Natasha to break down those walls speaks volumes about her respect for him.
She doesn't say that, of course.
"And with more space to spread out." Tasha deliberately leans her body against his before sliding up a bit for just the right amount of friction. She reaches out her hand, pointing down the hall. "You wanna see my bedroom?" She grins, using a similar tone of voice to the one he's using, just to tease him.
Natasha knows she's too scared to think straight, she's been the one playing that game on people before, too. Abuse the weakness, exploit basic human decency to get what you want any way you can get it. It was all part of the job. Or at least it used to be.
She silently takes them to her apartment, which isn't much of a home. Tasha doesn't spend a lot of time there. There's a desk with work papers scattered on it, a small kitchen and living room and the bedroom and bathroom off to the side.
Natasha drops Bucky's hand once they're inside. She starts pacing the apartment nervously, unsure why she's feeling this way. The Skrulls, the lose of her inhibitions at the diner, the guilt of pushing Bucky like that? She's not sure why but she has an overwhelming urge to break down and cry.
She sinks down onto her sofa, burying her face in her hands. She can't let ( ... )
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"It's okay." Tasha repeats back to him.
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As he looks up at her, a hint of vulnerability shows through on his face, and it's strange to think that just a moment ago, he was the one comforting her. He leans up, closing the distance between their lips again.
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But they do. Or they did. She's trying to change that, wipe that ledger a little bit cleaner each day. Some days are better than others.
She shivers at the kiss, wrapping her fingers around the back his neck more gently that she would someone else. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." Natasha whispers between soft kisses. She wants to, so badly. She wants to feel alive and unafraid for what could be the last time in her life and she wants it to be with him, but it's clear something's bothering him.
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If he's in anyway unclear on her answer to his question, it's a resounding yes.
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Of course there's nothing subtle about the way she's biting at his lower lip, her growing need becoming clear with every nip of her teeth.
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He damn well better have intentions, because she does.
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"Yanno, I think this would be a lot easier without clothes," he remarks, snapped out of his thoughts by the grinding of her hips.
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She doesn't say that, of course.
"And with more space to spread out." Tasha deliberately leans her body against his before sliding up a bit for just the right amount of friction. She reaches out her hand, pointing down the hall. "You wanna see my bedroom?" She grins, using a similar tone of voice to the one he's using, just to tease him.
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She's usually a take the lead kind of woman but something about that confidence makes her want him that much more. "You should."
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