Poking her nose into Dean's personal life just wasn't her style. She had better manners than that, and on the off point, it really wasn't her business, anyway. His life was just that: his life. She had her own, and if they chanced to cross now and again, Natasha was always willing to enjoy it, to the absolute fullest. She didn't doubt that there would come a day when one or both of them would drift apart, and she'd reconciled herself to that. There wasn't any "happy ending" for anyone in their profession.
Which was why they were more or less limited to these sorts of trysts; meeting in some backwater town in a rickety motel, indulging in each other while time allowed. Because there was no way to know what idiotic nasty might come crashing through the door - a fairly stupid one, given the caliber of what awaited it on the other side - and for once, Natasha didn't have to be the first one to pull a gun to hand. Yes, it was nice, indeed. Everyone said opposites attracted, but clearly they'd never experienced this sort of thing before.
Men like Dean Winchester were few, and very far between. And Natasha Romanoff - Natalia Romanova - had no trouble accepting him just as he was, bad decisions and all.
"Mmm, probably not," she agreed, letting her lashes drift closed and a soft breath hiss escape when thick fingers pressed a little harder between her thighs, sleek and wet. She might have consented to stand there all night while he toyed with her, but it wasn't too long before she felt Dean urging her forward, and a vulpine smirk curved her lips, but she acquiesced without protest, sinuously stretching as she did so.
Heels of her hands propping her on the counter, Natasha gave Dean a sly glance over one bare shoulder before dropping her head and bowing her back, hips wiggling in his hands, just enough to tease. "Not really," she remarked with a slight shrug, then added, "But you know how high my standards are, so..." She purred delight to feel him rubbing warm against her back, guttural voice sinfully silky at her ear. "I'm a complicated woman, Dean," she breathed back, turning her head for a heated kiss. "It takes a particular combination to light this fire."
And the damnable man was quite skilled at how to stoke those flames, too. Natasha pressed her hips back into his, rubbing his hard cock between slick, hot lips. Her thighs parted, invitingly, and she ran the tip of her tongue around her mouth, teasing, but there was very little coyness in her voice when she whispered, "C'mon, baby, fuck me. Now."
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Which was why they were more or less limited to these sorts of trysts; meeting in some backwater town in a rickety motel, indulging in each other while time allowed. Because there was no way to know what idiotic nasty might come crashing through the door - a fairly stupid one, given the caliber of what awaited it on the other side - and for once, Natasha didn't have to be the first one to pull a gun to hand. Yes, it was nice, indeed. Everyone said opposites attracted, but clearly they'd never experienced this sort of thing before.
Men like Dean Winchester were few, and very far between. And Natasha Romanoff - Natalia Romanova - had no trouble accepting him just as he was, bad decisions and all.
"Mmm, probably not," she agreed, letting her lashes drift closed and a soft breath hiss escape when thick fingers pressed a little harder between her thighs, sleek and wet. She might have consented to stand there all night while he toyed with her, but it wasn't too long before she felt Dean urging her forward, and a vulpine smirk curved her lips, but she acquiesced without protest, sinuously stretching as she did so.
Heels of her hands propping her on the counter, Natasha gave Dean a sly glance over one bare shoulder before dropping her head and bowing her back, hips wiggling in his hands, just enough to tease. "Not really," she remarked with a slight shrug, then added, "But you know how high my standards are, so..." She purred delight to feel him rubbing warm against her back, guttural voice sinfully silky at her ear. "I'm a complicated woman, Dean," she breathed back, turning her head for a heated kiss. "It takes a particular combination to light this fire."
And the damnable man was quite skilled at how to stoke those flames, too. Natasha pressed her hips back into his, rubbing his hard cock between slick, hot lips. Her thighs parted, invitingly, and she ran the tip of her tongue around her mouth, teasing, but there was very little coyness in her voice when she whispered, "C'mon, baby, fuck me. Now."