Dawn
The following day, the world was white. Natasha woke up to a dark room, blanketed by the glow of the moon setting through the snow-strung trees. The air was cold and still. Her eyes opened slowly as the memories of the night before came back to her, of the basement, the safe. Of Steve and that vulnerable little look he gave her as they got each other off. She wanted to fall back asleep; he was so warm and the bed was so soft. Her body, on the other hand, had different ideas.
When they were developing the serum, they wanted to limit the amount of recovery time that the girls needed during battle. They achieved that by kicking the adrenal gland into overdrive at the slightest prodding. Any sort of excitement would set it off, wake them up, keep them moving.
Her head was overwhelmed with thoughts, her body with feelings: the memories of the night before, the headache that came with crying over the family photos, the clammy, cold feeling that came with sleeping beside him after…
Well.
The memory of their night was foggy, the lust that had clouded her brain the previous night now settling over it. Steve pressed into her in his sleep, his hand still wrapped around her hips and holding her firmly against him. The feeling of his body against her confused her even more. She didn’t regret the previous night, but she did regret their circumstances. She knew she was in no situation to be opening up her feelings for him again, knew she should be focusing on finding the Red Room, on saving the others. She was honor bound to help them, to find Yelena. Last night had cemented that in her brain. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t save her sister, the same way he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t find James.
They would still be so far away. Wake up on opposite sides of the world every morning. Speak in fleeting texts or brief phone calls when neither of them could sleep. They would continue in this limbo, not quite friends, not quite more. And maybe that was fine.
Deep down, in the pits of her stomach and the darkest corners of her brain, there was a part of Natasha that took great comfort in this purgatory. She knew if she took that step with Steve, that final plunge, it would ruin her. It could only end in pain.
After this holiday, the brief few weeks with Tony and Steve and all the others, she would focus again. Try to find Yelena, try to find the Red Room’s new location. Travel to Kiev. She would push herself back into her work, get through the winter. Find her sister, find the others, fix her mistakes.
She would always love him, always want more, but with the lives they led she knew it wouldn’t be in the cards. Wouldn’t be worth it to try, not really.
Maybe it wasn’t worth it to ruin what they had.
Maybe Purgatory was the best they would ever get.
“How long have you been awake?” His voice was deep and raspy, as it always was first thing in the morning. She rolled onto her side again and faced him, curling into his side despite her better judgment. He was a welcome warmth against the cold of the morning and the juxtaposition of the two feelings sets her already fried nerves on edge once again.
“Half an hour. At most. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Thinking?”
“Unfortunately.”
He buried his face in her hair. “About your sister?”
“About my family.” She didn’t want to look at him. “Or the people I consider to be my family.”
“Barton, then,” he said. “And whatever brood he’s hiding out in middle America?”
Natasha started and her eyes flickered up to his face. “How did you know?”
He laughed humorlessly. “You don’t have any other friends, Natasha.”
She fiddled with the comforter, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. She remembered looking up at it when she was little, with Yelena bouncing excitedly beside her. “Clint has two kids, another on the way. He married his wife Laura about a year and a half before I met him. His first mission after he returned from his honeymoon was to Budapest.”
“How old are his kids?”
“Twelve and ten. Cooper and Lila. And hopefully a little Natasha on the way.” She smiled at the memory of Laura’s departure, her belly just beginning to protrude from her shirt. “Did you ever want a family?”
Steve’s eyes joined hers on the ceiling. “Maybe before the war began. I never had a big family growing up, not until I moved in with Buck--,”
She tensed against his chest and he paused.
“He had sisters, I know. We found a picture of them in his file.”
“I guess I always thought I would have a big family back then. Before I became Captain America.”
“Never wanted them with Carter?” she asked. She felt him take in a shaky breath.
“Side effect of the serum. Unintended, I believe. Did they fix it when they…”
Natasha gritted her teeth. “They did not.”
“I’m sorry, Nat.”
“It’s fine,” she lied. He said nothing. The room fell silent.
His arms wrapped around her again and clasped at the small of her back. They were both still naked, bare against each other as they had been in the comfort of the night. Now, in the dim light just before dawn, Natasha felt the same flutter she did then. His body was firm beneath hers and she reached up to push his hair back out of his face.
“You need a haircut.”
His hands trailed up her back. “I need a lot of things.”
She smiled up at him, the protected ones she forced out for other people’s benefit, as if to put any unease that their conversation may have brought up to rest. “I was thinking about grabbing something from the diner a few streets over for breakfast. Are you hungry?”
He pushed her off of him, rolling over so he was hovering above her. She knew she should push him away. The sun was quickly rising outside the window and would soon be shedding light on their fucked up situation. But she couldn’t, not when he was making such intense eye contact with her and she could only think of the way his fingers had felt inside of her last night. When she could only think of that feeling of tension in the pit of her stomach.
“I could eat.”
He settled himself between her legs and spread them out to either side of him. His fingers ghosted across her skin and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She could still barely see him, the room so dim it seemed to blanket what she was sure she would find a way to regret come sunrise.
“Steve, what are you—,” she stopped herself as she felt his breath against her stomach, her back arching involuntarily. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
He looked up at her, the covers draped across his shoulders like a shawl and his body bent in reverence. Like he was about to say a prayer.
“I think you’ve had a hard few months and I want to do something for you.” He pressed his face to her chest and she felt his lips glide across her left nipple.
Natasha swallowed as he settled back between her legs and rested his cheek on her thigh. She was sure he could tell how turned on she was. It was almost embarrassing, but she couldn’t help it. He looked so vulnerable.
He needed this as much as she did.
His finger was tracing patterns across her inner thigh. “We don’t have to talk about it now, Natasha. Not if you don’t want to. Just, please, let me…”
She could feel his breath on her cunt, hot and eager and driving her system into overdrive. She arched against his finger as it trailed along her clit, almost absentmindedly, his eyes still trained on hers. “I don’t want to talk. I want—,”
She was cut off again as he pressed his lips against her thigh. “What do you want, Natasha?”
His tone had a note of teasing, but his face was stone cold serious. She knew if he told him no, if she said she didn’t want this, that he would back off. They could go about their morning and pretend nothing happened. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
“I want you to go down on me,” she whispered, as if saying her desires quietly would make them any less real. “And then we’ll go from there.”
Steve smiled against her thigh and bit at it in the way he knew she liked. “Yes ma’am.”
Her hands found their way into his hair as he laid his lips upon her properly for the first time since Washington. She cried out as his tongue probed across her center and his fingers continued to grip at her thighs. They shook beneath his restraint, the urge to clamp around his head threatening to overtake her. In the darkness of the pre-dawn, she could just barely see him.
It was almost unreal how attractive he was, folded between her legs and pressing her knees into the mattress. His back rippled with tight muscle that begged for her to run her hands over it, his shoulder bulged obscenely against her thighs, his eyes searched for hers even as she brought her hands down to pull his hair over them.
She moaned, like candy to his ears, as he lapped at her clit and trailed his tongue over her entrance. She had to resist the urge to press his face harder against her, to chase the pressure that she so desperately craved.
“Steve,” she whispered, her voice strained. He pulled away and looked up at her, his face glistening obscenely in the dim light, his thumb reaching down to circle her clit.
“Yes, Natasha?”
“I need more.”
She didn’t know what she quite meant by that, but she knew it was true. He nodded up at her, kissed her hip, then her navel, then her other hip. His thumb continued to draw slow, agonizing circles around her clit, sending shivers up her spine and pulling cries from her lungs. He watched as she arched backwards, her hands dragging up her body and finding her breasts. Her eyes flickered down occasionally, taking in his face as he teased her.
“Please,” she whimpered, longing for the feeling of his lips back on her, fingers inside of her.
He nodded and brought his lips back down, replacing his thumb and resuming the slow, languid strokes. She let out a low moan as he slid one finger inside of her, curling upwards. His other hand rested on her lower stomach, gently pressing against her abdomen. His eyes were wide, vulnerable, as he fucked her with two fingers.
“That feels so good, baby,” she told him in between breaths. When she was this close, the pet names just slipped out. One of her hands found the side of his face and cradled his cheek. She had to resist the urge to grab his ear and pull him even closer, to chase the pressure and release at his expense.
His hand disappeared beneath him and she could tell by his movements that he was trying to get himself off. He would never ask her for anything, would never pressure her. She believed that he truly wanted to take care of her, wanted to feel like he could still be there for the people he loved, like he could still help. The martyr in him simply wanted to get her off, give her a brief moment of bliss. He didn’t want— or maybe believed he didn’t deserve— anything in return.
He could handle it himself.
“Steve,” she cried out, pulling his head away from her as he reached a new level of pleasure inside of her. She felt desperate, out of control, but she was not the only one who was. He looked up at her, his head trying desperately to dip back down, but she wouldn’t let it. “Come here.”
He climbed up her body, his arms shaking with effort and his cock dragging over her stomach as he brought them to eye level. She pressed lightly on his shoulder and he rolled over easily, sprawling out on his back and watching as she crawled on top of him. Her heat slid across him as she sat back, feeling his hips rock up against her as his eyes rolled back. She rocked over him, just once, to watch him react.
Then again.
He stilled her hips with strong hands, holding her down as his abdomen contracted again. She trailed a finger along his navel. His fingers tightened.
“Nat,” he bit out, but she could see his resolve crumbling. “Please let me— let me make you come.”
She rested her palm against his cheek once more, searching his eyes for his intentions. He was desperate, she could see it. His face was still slick with her own cum, his neck straining as she held him down. She dragged a finger along his hip and angled her’s over him.
“Natasha.” His voice was hoarse as she teased him. “Please, I haven’t-- you aren’t--,”
She pressed her lips to his neck and he quieted. “Let me handle you.”
He pressed his head back further into the comforter, whimpering breaths escaping his mouth as her fingers drew up and down his cock. She was still hovering over him, his tip poised at her entrance. All she needed to do was sink back, take him within her.
“Natasha,” he groaned.
She was losing her resolve at the sounds he was making, at the way his hands gripped at her hips, at the way he arches his up to just barely meet her. Her skin was alight as she felt him enter her, just barely, just enough that she could grip him within her. Slowly, with every ounce of resolve in her body, she raised herself again.
“Please,” he whispered. She bit her lip as he caught her gaze once more. With a firm yet gentle pressure, he pressed her back down. She sank lower this time, both overcome with the feeling of her wrapped around him.
“Jesus, Steve,” she said, as his thumb found her clit once more. Her whimpers drew him upright, where his lips found her neck. “Are we-- Can we--,”
“It’s up to you,” he whispered. “I just want you to-- I want to make you--,”
She could feel it in his breath, in the way his arms tightened around her waist and his lips drew nearer to hers. She wanted him, more than she had wanted anything in her life, and in that moment she decided:
If she could not have him forever, she would have him now.
They both cried out as she sank onto him fully, her breath coming in short pants against his lips, never quite touching. His hands were gripping her ass once more, guiding her up and down his cock, maintaining the pace that she had set.
“Natasha.” He whispered her name like a prayer, a tremble of reverence making her cry out. She was close yet again, her eyes slipping shut as he angled deeper into her. She wanted more from him, wanted so desperately to hold on as he pushed her over the edge, if only so that she could chase the escape it brought with it.
His lips were on her again: her neck, her chest. Wrapped around her nipple. Her legs shook, just as they had last night, only now she had him inside of her and it was all the more overwhelming.
She supported herself on his shoulders, short moans escaping her lips as his teeth found her neck. “Steve, I can’t—,”
She couldn’t form the words, but he seemed to understand. He lifted her up and flipped them over, hooking her knee around his elbow and pressing her into the mattress. She cried out as he reached new depths inside of her, his pelvis scraping against her clit with every thrust.
“Come for me, please,” he whispered into her ear, a growl biting at the edge of his voice. “Please, Natasha, please.”
“I—,”
“Now.” It was a proper growl this time, a command, a hint at the frustration he had harbored for the last few months was finally getting the better of him. He wanted purpose, if only briefly.
And she wanted comfort, if only briefly.
The world went black as she came, her eyes slipping shut as she buried her face in his neck and stifled her cries. He was close behind her, collapsing over her lithe body as his breathing shuddered and evened out once more. Natasha laid beneath him, feeling his breath on her chest as they both came down.
“Christ, Steve,” she choked out finally, rolling over to drape herself across his chest. He pulled her close to him, saying nothing as they both got their barings once more.
Natasha felt her eyes slip shut as his thumb drew languid strokes along her shoulder. She wished she could freeze time in this moment, that she could live in it forever, but already she could feel it slipping away. Steve seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
“You know, after Stark’s, we don’t have to split up again.”
His remark gave her pause and she drew her eyes to the ceiling once more. “Unless James has returned to the Red Room, I fear we’ll be led to separate parts of the world once more.”
“I could come with you, then,” he said. “Sam would probably welcome the break. His sister is getting married soon.”
She ran a hand along his chest. “I couldn’t ask you to give up your search for me.”
Even if I want to.
“You wouldn’t have to ask, Natasha.”
She looked up at him and for just a moment, considered kissing him. She wanted to feel that connection with him, but it all felt… too real. That would push them over the edge, she thought. It would make it impossible to leave him again.
“We should get going,” she said quickly, sitting up and pulling away from the comfort of his embrace. “It’s nearly dawn.”