The room filled with the sound of skin against skin, labored breath, and half-drunken grunts and moans as Natasha’s powerful thighs slammed into her partner’s ass over and over. The walls of her city apartment were soundproof, so her younger partner could scream as loud as she wanted as Natasha railed against her, which Natasha instructed her to do. Natasha took a fistful of the woman’s straw-blonde ponytail, her other hand on the woman’s shoulder, watching the woman’s back arch from the force with a wild predation in her eyes, listening intently to the woman’s whimpering moans, breathing in the sweat between them in the hot, oxygen-deprived air.
“Natasha, Natasha, fuck- fuck me- oh fuck, so good…” The younger woman babbled, having been fucked into oblivion already, her fingers clawing at the sheets. She hadn't been sure she could take a strap of this size, but Natasha had been confident she could if she tried, and she was glad she listened. She turned her head to try and get a look at the older woman, wanting to watch as she was fucked, but her head was hastily shoved into the mattress, the older woman’s full and terrifying strength behind her grip, eliciting a loud moan and a gasp and a gush from between her thighs as she was ravaged with even more cruelty. “Natasha! Fuck!”
“Do not fucking turn around,” Natasha snarled, fucking even harder into the younger woman as punishment and slapping her ass harshly for good measure, so hard she’d only need to do it once, drawing out yelps and screams. Even though gripping the younger woman’s head and asserting her full force over her satisfied an animalistic rage, a primal urge to control and to occupy, she could still see the woman’s face. She groaned in frustration, feeling her arousal waning slightly, then yanked the younger woman’s ponytail once more to force her to face front, focusing on the blondeness, feeling the spark between her thighs return. She closed her eyes. She could feel the last drink bleeding into her veins, and she was desperate to cum. She finally allowed herself to ask this woman for what she had needed all along, recalling the woman was an actress, which is why she picked her up at the seedy bar, readying herself and her hips and thighs for the onslaught of pleasure. “Tell me what I told you to say. Now.”
The woman struggled to form words. “Natasha-”
“Do it right.” Natasha snapped.
The younger woman sobbed tearlessly, the degradation lighting up every nerve in her body, feeling alight amidst every sensation Natasha was giving her. She drew a breath and dropped her voice to where Natasha had told her to, having been forced to practice this extremely particular Russian accent before Natasha would agree to touch her. “Natasha…” She drawled, and couldn’t help but smile as she performed well for the older woman. “I have thought about this for so long…” A low, growling moan spurred her on, grappling at the sheets with an open mouth as she felt her walls tightening and her entire body rock with each thrust. “And I missed you so much when you were gone... I missed you... I wanted you to touch me like this… I wanted you with me, always... god, I think about you all the time…"
"Last sentence again.” Natasha barked, eyes pursed shut, her hips beginning to shudder with each imitated word as she began to approach her own climax.
“I think about you all the time… Natasha…”
Natasha opened her eyes. She gazed at the blonde locks between her fingers. The sculpted back, lower half rippling ever so subtly with every swing of her hips. She stared so long and hard at the back of the younger woman’s head as she fucked into her, her name in that low, enraptured, desperate, yet still somehow vaguely aloof tone reverberating through the room. Her chest ached. At her own risk, she slipped a shaking hand from the ponytail and laid it on the younger woman’s back, feeling the fervent heat of her skin and the subtle arch of the younger woman’s body into her touch.
“Natasha…”
Tears pricked her eyes. She pursed them shut again and used all her remaining strength to grind into the younger woman’s pussy, drawing out screams and cries and sobs amidst the loud slap of skin against skin, raging at the way her tears escaped through the corners of her eyes, at the way her lip trembled, at the way her nails raked so deep into the younger woman’s skin, and she screamed in a mix of fury and pleasure as the two of them came at once. “Yelena!”
The younger woman went limp beneath Natasha’s hands, back rising and falling deeply as she caught her breath. Natasha slowly, carefully slipped the strap from the woman’s pussy, a soft whimper following the loss. She pulled off the harness and tossed it to the side of the bed and laid back beside the other woman, heaving a long breath. She allowed herself a few moments to rest, looking up at the ceiling, burying what had just happened in her mind and body before tending to the younger woman. Aftercare allowed her to forget. There was a bowl of candy and a mini fridge for cold hand-towels beside the bed for this very moment. “What kind of candy do you like?”
“Uh… chocolate…” The younger woman muttered into the sheets.
Natasha nodded to herself. She leaned over and grabbed a kit-kat from the bowl, then swiped a towel from the fridge. Without disturbing the younger woman, she unwrapped half of the candy bar and held it out in front of the younger woman’s closed eyes. “Here, take this. Don’t want you feeling bad on my watch.” She murmured, her voice now tender and nurturing. “And I have a cool towel for that saddle-sore.”
The younger woman smiled blissfully, sliding her hand to take the candy. “Thanks.”
“Lay on your stomach.” Natasha whispered, and the younger woman obeyed. “Good. I’m going to put the towel on you now, ok?”
“Ok.” The younger woman snuggled into the blankets, still grinning.
Natasha gently laid the ultrasoft cotton towel on the younger woman’s ass, pressing lightly where she had spanked. “How’s that pressure?”
“Mm… good.”
A silence fell in the room as Natasha gently massaged the area. She listened to the quiet crunch of wafers as the younger woman ate her candy, finally. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
Natasha inwardly sighed in frustration at the woman’s delirious tone. “Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy?”
“I feel fine.” The younger woman chuckled. “Just… basking.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Natasha’s eyes scanned the woman’s body for any odd signs, but she saw nothing but calm and spent limbs.
“So…” The woman swallowed a piece of chocolate. “Is Yelena someone? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, obviously.”
Natasha’s entire body froze, from her eyes to her fingertips, her heart immediately beginning the pound in both fear and rage. She rescinded the towel from the woman’s skin and let it fall to the floor silently. She swallowed, trying to compose herself. “Just an old fling. It didn't end very well. But I've known a lot of Yelenas, so...” She took a breath. “You should go home now. If you’re feeling alright.”
The younger woman cursed herself for the question, realizing it was likely not the best idea to ask. So she wouldn’t get to spend the rest of the night with an Avenger. She nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I’m feeling ok enough.”
Natasha quickly grabbed her phone and pressed a series of buttons to call her driver. “Someone will be here to get you in a couple minutes, it’s my driver. He’s going to come up and escort you to the car. He’ll make sure you get home safe.”
“Thank you.” The younger woman stretched out her upper back and sighed before rolling onto her back, then pushed herself to sit up, wincing slightly at the tenderness of her ass. She looked over to check on Natasha, who was sitting so rigidly at the edge of the bed, staring off at the window, it was almost disturbingly inhuman. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I just get a little spacey… after… sometimes.” Natasha lied, but put on a wholly convincing tone. She fixed her expression to placate the younger woman, smiling warmly with eyes full of attraction, then turned over her shoulder. “I had a good time.”
The younger woman blushed and smiled back. “Me too.”
“I’m going to go clean up, but… I’m glad I met you tonight. Have a safe drive home.” Natasha got up and made her way to the bathroom, stopping on her way to kiss the top of the younger woman’s head.
She closed and locked the door behind her and ran the shower. She sat by the door, waiting to hear her driver’s recognizable baritone voice to know the younger woman had left. When she finally heard it, hearing the front door open and close, she unlocked the bathroom door and opened it again, letting her body fall through the open doorway into the now empty room. She crawled over to her closet and ripped out a spindly long-sleeve top and pair of boy-shorts to sleep in, pulling them half-heartedly over her body. Her mind couldn’t afford for her to wait on the floor and give her time to think, so she immediately headed out of the bedroom and into the bar.
“1995 playlist. Low volume.” She called half-drunkenly to the AI stereo as she grabbed a sleek rocks glass from the upper shelves. The room was dimly lit and painted dark, just how she needed it at times like this, the atmosphere accentuated by the smooth rock playing on the speakers. It wasn’t just songs from 1995, but songs that reminded her of it; a year frozen in time in her mind, joys and attachments of the time now impossible to rekindle, but she longed for them anyway. She knew it could never be the same. And she didn’t want it to be the same - she just wanted to feel it again. The closeness. The warmth.
She reached into the lower shelves for the large bottle of vodka she treasured. She had shared this same drink with Yelena on their first and only reunion. She stroked the beveled glass of the bottle, tears spraying her throat as she remembered the way Yelena’s jaw opened and locked shut, strong, as she took shots in Budapest like it was water. Yelena had grown up so strong. She remembered the way her sister had looked at her as they plummeted through the sky after destroying the Red Room, the way her heart had soared to the heavens as she could finally save Yelena, holding her safe in her own arms.
The lonely silence of the bar cut her whole world in half, slicing her through the only gaps in her armor, a way only she knew how to hurt herself.
She poured at least four ounces in the rocks glass and put the bottle away mindlessly. She stared down at the drink in revulsion, for the way everything about it made her yearn. Sometimes glimpses of a world in which Yelena was just a woman, not her sister, floated through her mind. It felt too incorrect and too unreal for her to ever truly want. Still, she couldn’t sacrifice her desire.
She lifted the cup to her lips and took a long sip, trying to mimic the way Yelena had taken shots in the Budapest safehouse, imagining herself as Yelena. It felt utterly foolish. When she finished the drink, she slammed the glass so hard onto the countertop it nearly cracked. She left it there as she went back to bed.
She laid there on her back in the dark, listening to the music waft in from the other room, waiting for the alcohol to knock her out. Every once in a while she needed this - that’s why she had this apartment. Tender melodies and loving poetry lulled her, poking her bruises all at once. It was almost a comfort now; both knowing she could still long for someone this way, and cherishing the pain caused by her imagined beloved, the only thing she could bring herself to have left of Yelena. She didn’t even notice she was crying, sheets wet at her temples. A relieved sigh escaped her lips at the freedom she had salvaged from herself, from her mind, from the world.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand being here, thrashed between every shade of shame she could conceive of, and the desire to give and take boundless love, suspended in this place of nothingness in between. She often imagined going to her grave like this still, knowing it was likely, trying to make the most of her life anyway; trying to be of service. If her life was to be a painful ordeal, she would rather focus on her legacy.
But if she was going to be alive, she might as well take her comforts where she could. Feeling the vodka sink in, she rolled herself onto her stomach and let her upper half hang off the bed. She reached underneath the bed frame and pulled out a cardboard box. Opening it on the ground, she left the box there, and took the green vest back with her on the bed.
She cradled the piece of clothing to her chest. She had never washed it. It still smelled like Yelena.