Natalia Romanova was hardly a blushing ingenue. Yet for all of her worldly experience, she'd not once had a lover of her own, someone not necessary for a mission, a companion selected to achieve a goal. She didn't make friends, she didn't keep family, she didn't have lovers. A lonely, solitary life, but it was all that she had.
Which was why even though the needy female within howled in protest, she forced herself to pull apart, lift her head and blink down at the prone soldier beneath her, his blue eyes glazed and pale cheeks flushed, kissable mouth parted and glistening. God.
But she had to be sure. For both of their sakes.
"...James," Natasha heard herself rasp, "...are you sure? --I mean, are we sure?" Because no matter how they might pretend otherwise, taking this gigantic leap would absolutely change everything.
When she pulls back, he forces himself to stop, looking up at her with bright blue eyes that are only hazy with want right now. With need. He listens though, hearing the hesitance in her voice, and the uncertainty in her eyes, mixed with everything else.
He pushes up on his elbows a little, but keeps his real arm around her, trying to catch his breath and think. "All I know is that I want you- but if you're not sure, we can stop." He wants her to be sure. He doesn't want her to regret this- and now he feels a little of that dread creeping in. What if she regrets all of this? "We don't... we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. It's okay."
That's important, the most important thing now. Being able to make their own choices.
Natasha lowered her lashes, then her head to rest it against Bucky's, noses touching as she softly sighed. "I don't want either of us to get hurt," she whispered, voice plaintive. Because they'd both already been hurt so much, to court more pain was unthinkable. And yet, "...but I don't want to stop, either."
She'd thought of little else over the past months, silently aching with her loneliness, wishing that he would reach out, reappear again on the horizon, or, in her wildest dreams, just show up at her door, drenched from the rain, needing a place to stay. And it scared her, because never, not in her entire life, had she fallen for anyone as quick or as hard as she had for James "Bucky" Barnes.
Life was entirely ironic, wasn't it?
"I want you, too." A hushed confession. "More than anything, right now." But he'd leave, wouldn't he? They couldn't stay together. "I'm just...a little scared, malyshka, believe it or not."
He closes his eyes when her head rests against his. She's not moving away, she's not looking at him like this is all a mistake. She's still very much here, resting against him. If he really, truly thinks about it, he can see the dilemma. "I don't want either of us to get hurt either."
But maybe that's all that they'll ever get. One hurt after another, and if he has to keep going, keep running, then what? He'd want her to come with him, but that wouldn't be fair to her either. She can't leave it all behind- especially not for someone like him. She's right to feel this way.
She wants him too, and that makes his heart want to soar, but there's so much holding it down. He sighs heavily, lifting his hand to card through her hair, looking at her once again. "I am too." He says quietly, "I'm scared too. I don't want to lose you. Not because of this, or anything."
There really wasn't any point in pretending anymore. Even if they stopped, backed away, there would still be this undercurrent of want, of yearning desire, strung thick between them as long as they were together. ...and honestly, even if they weren't.
Natasha also closed her eyes, leaning her head into Bucky's hand as it trailed through her loose curls, and then gave a mental sigh and made up her mind. Green eyes opened again.
"Come with me," she quietly said, smoothly getting to her feet and holding out a slender hand. "Come to bed with me, James." A toss of her head sent scarlet tumbling over her shoulders, all of her trepidation once more hidden away. "I don't want to be afraid anymore." Her lips quirked. "I've never really had anything good in my life, and I'm not going to miss out on it now."
After this, there wouldn't be any change of tempering it all down. He would, of course, for her- not wanting to lose her, but it would all be a lie. The desire would never go away.
When she looks at him once again, he can tell she feels the same. She's not ready to just let this go either. But still, he's surprised when she offers her hand. He doesn't hesitate in taking it though, giving her a nod as he gets up to follow, having made up his own mind as well. How will this end? He isn't sure, but for now, he wants to be that good. He wishes for nothing more than to be that good in her life.
He's quiet as they head to the bed, but as they reach it, moves in close to kiss across her shoulder, carefully pushing her hair back so he can let his kisses climb up along her neck. There's a lot he can't remember, but somehow remembers exactly what to do with this desire he's feeling in his heart.
Natasha had no idea how it would end. Badly, given both of their track records. But that wasn't anything they weren't used to, now was it? And she'd meant what she'd said; she wasn't going to miss even the smallest thing that was good, that was real. So she led Bucky into the suite's bedroom, sparsely but tastefully decorated in the classic Romanian style.
Though the decor was a bit lost on her when Bucky came up behind her, gently pulling aside her long curls to place a row of warm kisses along her exposed skin. They brought a shiver, as well as a soft, needful moan. Natasha lifted a hand to guide his head further, tilting hers aside to offer him more pale skin, more eager flesh.
She'd changed shortly after they'd returned to the hotel, once more in her comfortable t-shirt and shorts, and she guided his left hand to the hem of the shirt, unhesitatingly placing that metal palm flat against her midriff. The coolness was such a vibrant contrast to her warm skin; gooseflesh rippled from just that simple touch. But she liked it; wanted more.
Whatever happens, they'll deal with it then. This is all that exists now. Natasha's skin is warm and so smooth under his lips. It's the best thing he's ever felt. He notes how she smells so good too- like soap and grapes, and the cool night air. He wants to stay in this for as long as he can, now that he can hold her.
Her moan sends a shiver through him, sparking a deep arousal that he hasn't felt in decades. She guides him and he follows, moaning against her skin as he keeps kissing up along her neck, pressing in close against her back so she can feel him.
When she takes his metal arm to place against her skin, he tenses up for a moment. The way her body reacts to him calms him though, and he tries not to fear the way he knows this arm of his could kill, but instead it could also hold her too, just like this. It's a part of him and he can't hide from it, but maybe he can use it in a better, gentler way.
"Natasha," he breathes against the skin just below her ear, nipping at it for a moment before he turns her around, sliding that cool metal arm up her back, the other moving to cup her face. "I... it's been a long time."
She turned in his arms, gazing up at him with absolutely no fear, no hesitation. But lightly flushed and couldn't hide her smile at his small confession. "You're not the only one," she replied, running both of her hands up Bucky's arms, over his shoulders, then into his hair, tangling her fingers in the thick strands.
Probably not as long as him, to be sure, but nevertheless.
"We can just go slow," she added, carding sable away from his forehead, behind his ear. "Take our time." She inched up for a soft kiss. "We have plenty of it, anyway." A light chuckle. "We don't even have to leave the hotel, really." And come to think of it, staying in bed with Bucky Barnes for a solid week was a tempting thought.
Natasha let her hands wander further, feathering back down over Bucky's shoulders and across his chest, approving sounds emerging from parted lips. "You're so...solid, James." Nice and thick, oh yes. She tugged pointedly at the hem of his shirt. "Can I see?"
The way she can disarm him with just a single look- and he knows it's real, not just something she has to work to do. He can feel it in his bones. It helps when she smiles, and he doesn't feel so bashful about it, but he still ducks his head a little, looking at her.
God, he loves the way she touches him. He feels like a real person. Not just some ghost. He feels wanted. He feels like he's relaxing into it, little by little. She knows exactly how to get him there.
"Alright." They can go slow. He nods, leaning into her touch, pressing into her slow and soft kiss as his hands run down her back to hold onto her waist. "I wouldn't mind staying here with you. Doing nothing but this." He really wouldn't. It sounds incredibly tempting.
He nods when she tugs at his shirt, and he moves back just a little bit so she can tug it up and get a good look. He really is solid- thick, muscled and scarred. Much more near the mangled limb, but she hasn't gotten there yet. He can work up to feeling alright with it, the longer she touches him.
Natasha slowly worked the fabric up, eyes following the landscape of flesh and muscle revealed, but paused when she reached his shoulders, wide eyes returning to his, asking silent permission. She knew it had to be a horror show, his left shoulder, but that didn't make him lesser in her eyes; it was just something he'd survived.
"...wanna take it off?" Again, a choice. She didn't expect it just because of where they were; if he wanted to make love with his shirt on, then that was just how it would be. But choice, consent, both were so very important, and she wanted to give him all the agency possible, because of how much he'd been denied for so very long.
His heart is beating hard in a whole different way now. He's nervous, self-conscious, isn't sure if he wants to see the look on her face when she sees what he looks like under it all.
She asks, and that helps. It leaves it up to him, which isn't something he's used to, but he's trying to get there. It really is his choice. He also remember how honest she was when she said she was scared. How she trusted him with that, even if it was hard.
"Alright," he says quietly, then reaches down and slowly pulls his shirt off to reveal everything, gaze shifting away for a moment because yeah, he's scared too.
Of course her eyes went there first. And of course she frowned, seeing the mangled joint and horribly scarred skin. But to react further would be sacrilege; she’d never look at him different just because of this. She had her own imperfections, after all.
So Natasha simply leaned over and placed a few soft, incredibly gentle kisses across the worst of the scarred tissue, looking back into Bucky’s eyes afterwards.
“You’re so strong, James,” was all she said. To have survived everything that you’ve been through, was the unspoken addition to that.
Bucky can see the frown, even out of the corner of his eyes- but it's quickly replaced by her soft kisses. His first instinct is to want to pull away, but the want for those kisses overtakes everything, and he stays completely still as she does so, finally looking at her once again.
He doesn't feel so strong. He feels like a mess of a man, but she makes him feel like there's a chance for him to be whole again.
He lifts a hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently, then leans in to kiss her again, because he doesn't know what to say. He really only wants to feel this. And now, at least, the worst of it is over. She's still here, kissing him, looking at him as if he's exactly what she wants. He isn't going to hesitate with that.
He is strong, but it doesn't take much to lift her, sliding her legs around her waist so he can get up on the bed and lay her down, careful not to put his weight on top of her.
Natasha didn’t protest a bit when Bucky hefted her; she was enough of a gymnast to coil her legs around his waist without breaking their kiss, only to voice a small laugh as her back met the bed beneath them. Doing so brought them nose to nose, and she blinked up at him, a little amused to be right here with this man right now.
“Promise I wasn’t waiting for you back in that Denny’s,” she couldn’t help but quip, feathering her hands over Bucky’s shoulders, the contrast of warm and cool thrilling. “But I’m definitely glad you decided to show up.”
The small laugh that he's able to pull out of her actually makes him smile a little as well, nuzzling his nose against hers before he leaves kisses along her jaw. He's realizes now, how much he's been aching to do this.
"So am I." He's pretty sure it's the best thing that ever happened to him. He keeps himself propped up with his left arm, his other trailing down her body, pushing up along the hem of her shirt. "You changed everything that day. You opened my eyes." As skittish as he's still been, he remembers how much worse he was back then. How empty, closed off, still waiting for the world to swallow him up. He doesn't feel that way so much anymore.
"Can I?" He asks, as he tugs at her shirt the way she did to his. It's all her choice as well. It always will be, with the two of them.
Oh, but this was so nice…all of her other lovers had only seen the outside - red hair, pale skin, and a knockout body that could kill a man with one finger - but somehow this felt…different. Yes, there was a healthy dose of physical attraction between them - naturally - but that wasn’t the only primal pull. And to be lying here with Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, as he lavished soft, sweet kisses along her jaw and throat, well… There were definitely worse ways to spend a vacation.
“Really?” His response surprised her. Natasha paused in her petting to place two fingers beneath his chin, urging him to look up at her, but the heat in blue eyes caught her breath and she dimly felt him tug at the hem of her shirt.
“…yeah,” she breathed, arching her back to facilitate the garment’s removal. Doing so left her bare to the waist, red curls a bloody halo on the pillowcases. She had her scars, too; she was hardly perfect, despite the image she carefully contrived.
She's absolutely stunning in every kind of way, but that isn't the thing that draws Bucky to Natasha the most. it's everything else. Her softness, her sweetness, the truth he sees in her eyes. The way she looks at him and smiles at him. The way he can talk to her about anything, even the darker parts. Of course there's the physical attraction as well- how can there not be- but nothing could ever beat what's inside.
"Really." He looks up, meeting her gaze at her urging. "I forgot what it was to be a person till I met you."
He pushes her shirt up slowly, letting his fingers drag across her skin, less hesitant with even his metal one now, as she doesn't shy away from it. Once it's off completely, he leans in to kiss at her skin. He finds the scar where she was shot last time and kisses all along the raised skin there too.
Between the two of them they have many scars, inside and out. But none of that matters as they lay here together, learning each other so fully for the first time.
Hearing that warmed her from the inside out. And not out of any growing lust - though that was definitely a low smolder, down in her gut - but the simple sincerity. It was so foreign, so unfamiliar; her compatriots always seemed to take it for granted. Expected it. Thought little about it.
When, for Natasha, being able to even give something like sincerity was a monumental gift, considering she'd never even known what it was until it'd been given to her first. By a man named Barton, when he'd made a choice that had changed her future forever.
"...I know what that's like," she whispered back, settling against the pillows as her t-shirt slipped up and off. Again her hand found the back of Bucky's head, threading fingers through his thick hair as he worshiped her skin. "It took a while for me to remember, too."
It's another thing between them that works so well. There's an understanding there. She gets what it feels like because she's been through it as well, and while he wishes these experiences on no one, they're experiences none the less. She knows what it's like to get lost and get found again, and that alone makes it feel more real.
"You're beautiful," he can't help but murmur against her skin after that, kissing all along her warm, soft skin. He lets his hands travel as well, over her lacy bra, down her sides, catching along the waistband of her shorts, just to touch her everywhere he can.
Deep down he knows he's done this before, but it all feels so new to him. He likes that it does, though- especially with Natasha.
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maskirovka) wrote2021-07-20 01:46 am
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Which was why even though the needy female within howled in protest, she forced herself to pull apart, lift her head and blink down at the prone soldier beneath her, his blue eyes glazed and pale cheeks flushed, kissable mouth parted and glistening. God.
But she had to be sure. For both of their sakes.
"...James," Natasha heard herself rasp, "...are you sure? --I mean, are we sure?" Because no matter how they might pretend otherwise, taking this gigantic leap would absolutely change everything.
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He pushes up on his elbows a little, but keeps his real arm around her, trying to catch his breath and think. "All I know is that I want you- but if you're not sure, we can stop." He wants her to be sure. He doesn't want her to regret this- and now he feels a little of that dread creeping in. What if she regrets all of this? "We don't... we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. It's okay."
That's important, the most important thing now. Being able to make their own choices.
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She'd thought of little else over the past months, silently aching with her loneliness, wishing that he would reach out, reappear again on the horizon, or, in her wildest dreams, just show up at her door, drenched from the rain, needing a place to stay. And it scared her, because never, not in her entire life, had she fallen for anyone as quick or as hard as she had for James "Bucky" Barnes.
Life was entirely ironic, wasn't it?
"I want you, too." A hushed confession. "More than anything, right now." But he'd leave, wouldn't he? They couldn't stay together. "I'm just...a little scared, malyshka, believe it or not."
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But maybe that's all that they'll ever get. One hurt after another, and if he has to keep going, keep running, then what? He'd want her to come with him, but that wouldn't be fair to her either. She can't leave it all behind- especially not for someone like him. She's right to feel this way.
She wants him too, and that makes his heart want to soar, but there's so much holding it down. He sighs heavily, lifting his hand to card through her hair, looking at her once again. "I am too." He says quietly, "I'm scared too. I don't want to lose you. Not because of this, or anything."
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Natasha also closed her eyes, leaning her head into Bucky's hand as it trailed through her loose curls, and then gave a mental sigh and made up her mind. Green eyes opened again.
"Come with me," she quietly said, smoothly getting to her feet and holding out a slender hand. "Come to bed with me, James." A toss of her head sent scarlet tumbling over her shoulders, all of her trepidation once more hidden away. "I don't want to be afraid anymore." Her lips quirked. "I've never really had anything good in my life, and I'm not going to miss out on it now."
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When she looks at him once again, he can tell she feels the same. She's not ready to just let this go either. But still, he's surprised when she offers her hand. He doesn't hesitate in taking it though, giving her a nod as he gets up to follow, having made up his own mind as well. How will this end? He isn't sure, but for now, he wants to be that good. He wishes for nothing more than to be that good in her life.
He's quiet as they head to the bed, but as they reach it, moves in close to kiss across her shoulder, carefully pushing her hair back so he can let his kisses climb up along her neck. There's a lot he can't remember, but somehow remembers exactly what to do with this desire he's feeling in his heart.
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Though the decor was a bit lost on her when Bucky came up behind her, gently pulling aside her long curls to place a row of warm kisses along her exposed skin. They brought a shiver, as well as a soft, needful moan. Natasha lifted a hand to guide his head further, tilting hers aside to offer him more pale skin, more eager flesh.
She'd changed shortly after they'd returned to the hotel, once more in her comfortable t-shirt and shorts, and she guided his left hand to the hem of the shirt, unhesitatingly placing that metal palm flat against her midriff. The coolness was such a vibrant contrast to her warm skin; gooseflesh rippled from just that simple touch. But she liked it; wanted more.
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Her moan sends a shiver through him, sparking a deep arousal that he hasn't felt in decades. She guides him and he follows, moaning against her skin as he keeps kissing up along her neck, pressing in close against her back so she can feel him.
When she takes his metal arm to place against her skin, he tenses up for a moment. The way her body reacts to him calms him though, and he tries not to fear the way he knows this arm of his could kill, but instead it could also hold her too, just like this. It's a part of him and he can't hide from it, but maybe he can use it in a better, gentler way.
"Natasha," he breathes against the skin just below her ear, nipping at it for a moment before he turns her around, sliding that cool metal arm up her back, the other moving to cup her face. "I... it's been a long time."
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Probably not as long as him, to be sure, but nevertheless.
"We can just go slow," she added, carding sable away from his forehead, behind his ear. "Take our time." She inched up for a soft kiss. "We have plenty of it, anyway." A light chuckle. "We don't even have to leave the hotel, really." And come to think of it, staying in bed with Bucky Barnes for a solid week was a tempting thought.
Natasha let her hands wander further, feathering back down over Bucky's shoulders and across his chest, approving sounds emerging from parted lips. "You're so...solid, James." Nice and thick, oh yes. She tugged pointedly at the hem of his shirt. "Can I see?"
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God, he loves the way she touches him. He feels like a real person. Not just some ghost. He feels wanted. He feels like he's relaxing into it, little by little. She knows exactly how to get him there.
"Alright." They can go slow. He nods, leaning into her touch, pressing into her slow and soft kiss as his hands run down her back to hold onto her waist. "I wouldn't mind staying here with you. Doing nothing but this." He really wouldn't. It sounds incredibly tempting.
He nods when she tugs at his shirt, and he moves back just a little bit so she can tug it up and get a good look. He really is solid- thick, muscled and scarred. Much more near the mangled limb, but she hasn't gotten there yet. He can work up to feeling alright with it, the longer she touches him.
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"...wanna take it off?" Again, a choice. She didn't expect it just because of where they were; if he wanted to make love with his shirt on, then that was just how it would be. But choice, consent, both were so very important, and she wanted to give him all the agency possible, because of how much he'd been denied for so very long.
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She asks, and that helps. It leaves it up to him, which isn't something he's used to, but he's trying to get there. It really is his choice. He also remember how honest she was when she said she was scared. How she trusted him with that, even if it was hard.
"Alright," he says quietly, then reaches down and slowly pulls his shirt off to reveal everything, gaze shifting away for a moment because yeah, he's scared too.
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So Natasha simply leaned over and placed a few soft, incredibly gentle kisses across the worst of the scarred tissue, looking back into Bucky’s eyes afterwards.
“You’re so strong, James,” was all she said. To have survived everything that you’ve been through, was the unspoken addition to that.
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He doesn't feel so strong. He feels like a mess of a man, but she makes him feel like there's a chance for him to be whole again.
He lifts a hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently, then leans in to kiss her again, because he doesn't know what to say. He really only wants to feel this. And now, at least, the worst of it is over. She's still here, kissing him, looking at him as if he's exactly what she wants. He isn't going to hesitate with that.
He is strong, but it doesn't take much to lift her, sliding her legs around her waist so he can get up on the bed and lay her down, careful not to put his weight on top of her.
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“Promise I wasn’t waiting for you back in that Denny’s,” she couldn’t help but quip, feathering her hands over Bucky’s shoulders, the contrast of warm and cool thrilling. “But I’m definitely glad you decided to show up.”
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"So am I." He's pretty sure it's the best thing that ever happened to him. He keeps himself propped up with his left arm, his other trailing down her body, pushing up along the hem of her shirt. "You changed everything that day. You opened my eyes." As skittish as he's still been, he remembers how much worse he was back then. How empty, closed off, still waiting for the world to swallow him up. He doesn't feel that way so much anymore.
"Can I?" He asks, as he tugs at her shirt the way she did to his. It's all her choice as well. It always will be, with the two of them.
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“Really?” His response surprised her. Natasha paused in her petting to place two fingers beneath his chin, urging him to look up at her, but the heat in blue eyes caught her breath and she dimly felt him tug at the hem of her shirt.
“…yeah,” she breathed, arching her back to facilitate the garment’s removal. Doing so left her bare to the waist, red curls a bloody halo on the pillowcases. She had her scars, too; she was hardly perfect, despite the image she carefully contrived.
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"Really." He looks up, meeting her gaze at her urging. "I forgot what it was to be a person till I met you."
He pushes her shirt up slowly, letting his fingers drag across her skin, less hesitant with even his metal one now, as she doesn't shy away from it. Once it's off completely, he leans in to kiss at her skin. He finds the scar where she was shot last time and kisses all along the raised skin there too.
Between the two of them they have many scars, inside and out. But none of that matters as they lay here together, learning each other so fully for the first time.
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When, for Natasha, being able to even give something like sincerity was a monumental gift, considering she'd never even known what it was until it'd been given to her first. By a man named Barton, when he'd made a choice that had changed her future forever.
"...I know what that's like," she whispered back, settling against the pillows as her t-shirt slipped up and off. Again her hand found the back of Bucky's head, threading fingers through his thick hair as he worshiped her skin. "It took a while for me to remember, too."
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"You're beautiful," he can't help but murmur against her skin after that, kissing all along her warm, soft skin. He lets his hands travel as well, over her lacy bra, down her sides, catching along the waistband of her shorts, just to touch her everywhere he can.
Deep down he knows he's done this before, but it all feels so new to him. He likes that it does, though- especially with Natasha.