On Her Upper Thigh
"But do you have to go?" His voice was low, a whisper against her skin as he placed kisses along her jawline. Slow and deliberate. Her skin was smooth, smelling of peaches, intoxicating and making it that much harder to let her go. "It's just some award show, can't be that important."
She let out a chuckle, soft and warm, before she lifted his chin with two slender fingers. Her emerald eyes sparkled with amusement, though he could still see the cold determination she always carried.
Her fingertip trailed down his chest, barley skimming the surface but the contact sent a wave of sparks through him. A reminder of how much he needed her, and how much he hated the idea of her leaving him. It always felt like a risk, every time they parted felt like a risk, a chance that they might never see each other again. He knew he shouldn't worry about a stupid glitzy celebrity awards show.
"James, I'm presenting the awards." She pulled her finger away just as he was beginning to lean in, making him groan in protest. "I promise to leave as soon as I can."
"You're an Avenger, not some pop artist." He muttered, frustrated with the situation. HIs fingers tightened around her waist, but she was already shifting, slipping from his fingers.
She sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. "The world looks up to the Avengers, and they have proven that with an Avenger in attendance donations go up. And Stark insists that it helps with our PR."
James scoffed, shaking his head. "Yes, because heaven knows the team that saves the world day after day needs better PR."
Natalia tilted her head, red curls falling over her shoulder as she gave him a pointed look. "Maybe I am doing it because the man I love needs all the good PR he can get right now."
His breath hitched, chest tightening as his gaze shifted to the court orders lying on the table beside them. The official stamp, papers filled with cold impersonal language. Orders to appear in court for crimes committed by the Winter Soldier. Crimes done by his hands, even if it hadn't been his mind. The media always neglected that detail. But he couldn't blame them.
He swallowed hard.
She was right, the headlines focusing on him were already brutal. He didn't need to drag her into them. No one would be thrilled to learn that the Black Widow had chosen the Winter Soldier, that she stood beside him through everything. The world didn't know their past, the things they knew about each other. The ghosts, the nightmares, the blood on each others hands.
"Hey," She placed her hand on his cheek, her voice softer than before. The warmth of her fingers pulled him out of his swarming thoughts. "It will all work out, I promise."
He knew he should believe her. He wanted to, wanted to trust her every word. The quiet conviction of her voice. It had worked out for her, how could she not have the same belief that it would for him? But he couldn't so he just nodded his head, her lips pressing a a sot kiss to his cheek.
"I will be home before you know it."
He let out a slow breath, resigning himself to the inevitable. She had leave, he could argue, plead, beg, offer a million excuses for her to stay, but it wouldn't matter. Natalia had made a promise, and Natalia Romanoff never broke a promise.
But that didn't mean he'd have to like it.
She stepped back, fingers leaving his skin. She checked her reflection in the mirror beside the front door. She was dressed far too simple for an award show, but she had assured him he'd love whatever get up they put her in once she walked the red carpet. He had no doubts her Widow's Bites would be a part of the outfit. She wouldn't be caught dead in a crowded area with out a weapon. She reached for her bag and turned back to him.
"Don't wait up for me."
He let out a huffed laugh, shaking his head. "I won't promise you that."
Her lips quirked into amusement, but there was something else hiding in her gaze. She hesitated for only a second before stepping closer and pressing one last kiss to his lips. And then just like that she was gone. The door clicked shut behind her, silence settled over the room like a heavy fog.
James ran a hand down his face before sinking back onto the couch, searching for the remote to change the channel, knowing full well that the blasted event wasn't due to start for another couple hours. He didn't need to watch, didn't care to watch any of the celebrities, or listen to their speeches, but he would wait.
Wait for the moment she stepped into the spotlight.
He let his eyes droop, exhaustion threatening to pull him under. He had never cared for pop culture. Didn't know half the names that the reporters were popping off. It was all white noise to him. Gossip that meant nothing.
"We are getting our first glimpse of tonight's special guest. Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe Natasha Romanoff will be presenting several of the awards tonight?"
HIs head snapped up, pulse quickening. He blinked rapidly, forcing himself awake as the commentators continued.
"You're right Monica. It was quite the surprise when they announced her. Tony Stark or even Steve Rogers would have been expected, but Natasha Romanoff? No one expected the Black Widow."
He grabbed the remote, finger hovering over the pause button as the cameras panned to the red carpet. And then, there she was.
His breath caught.
She wore her hair pinned in loose curls, with a strapless black dress, sleek and elegant, hugging her curves in all the right places. He had been correct in assuming that she would wear her bites. Gold bracelets wrapped around her wrists, more decorative than her typical set but he'd seen these ones before, an undercover mission months ago. The slit at her thigh revealed a deep red lining with each deliberate step she took. Who would have thought her training would translate so well to the red carpet?
A glint of light caught his attention, just as the ever chatty reporters filled the silence with speculations. The camera panned lower, capturing the delicate jeweled chain wrapped around her exposed thigh in greater detail. Rubies glittered under the floodlights, but his focus was locked onto the small detail. The "J" hanging from one of the strands, next to a red star.
As if hearing his desires the camera zoomed in on the jewel, reporters catching the detail immediately.
"Natasha, is there a name behind the initial?"
She turned back, just enough for the cameras to catch her lips curling into her classic smirk -- mysterious, knowing, and a hint of teasing.
"He knows who he is." Her words were thick with her Russian accent, and each one sent a shiver down his spine. "And for now he's the only one who gets to know."
With a wink she turned, skirts swirling around her like smoke, disappearing into the venue as the cameras trailed after her.
James exhaled slowly, only just now realizing he had been holding it. His fingers itched to hold her, to play with the chain around her thigh. To kiss ever inch of exposed skin, and tell her just how much her small gesture meant to him.
Beside him his phone buzzed. His gaze was still locked on the television, lingering on the last glimpse of her before she finally vanished from the cameras. He reached slowly for the phone beside him, glancing at the message.
Steve: James?
A slow smile tugged at his lips, but he didn't respond.
James.
The rest of the show dragged dreadfully slow. Every award announcement stretched on for an eternity, filled with unnecessary speeches, awkward jokes, and forced laughter. He didn't care about any of it. He only wanted to see her again. To hear her voice without the barrier of a screen between them.
The show came to a close, leaving the low hum of the TV to fill the quiet of the apartment. He leaned back into the leather couch, exhaling deeply. His muscles tense, coiled with anticipation, but he forced himself to remain patient.
And then -- finally -- he heard it.
The soft, unmistakable sound of her key in the door, followed by the creak of the door. His pulsed quickened, and he jumped up ready to see her again. He stepped into the entry way as she removed her coat. Her back was turned to him, showing off the hourglass shaped cut out on the back of her after party dress.
"You waited." She spoke with amusement.
James smirked. "Figured I'd stay up and see if some celebrity decided to make a statement with a suit made of caution tape or water bottles."
A low chuckle escaped her lips. "You joke but it almost happened."
She turned slowly, red hair tousled from the night, make up slightly smudged, but she was still stunning. The slit in the new dress revealed the same delicate chain wrapped around her thigh.
His chain. His initial.
His gaze darkened, closing the distance between them in a few quick steps. She didn't move, only tilted her head, her smile dripping with amusement. His fingers traced the chain, his touch feather light. James leaned down, lips next to her ear. "Wearing my initial for the whole world to see, huh?"
Her smirk deepened, hand sliding up his chest, pressing against his heartbeat. "Had to make sure they knew I'm taken."
He held the initial in his fingers, starring at the red letter, the star laying just beside it. They looked so small and fragile on his fingers.
"The world can't know who you are to me yet James." His fingers played with the delicate chain, her own trailing across his jaw. "But you do."
His lips found hers in a slow, heated kiss. He poured every unspoken word into it. Every ounce of longing he had felt all night long. Letting her know exactly how much it meant to him.
"You gonna take me to bed or not, James?"