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Title: Your Mouth Tasted Like Holy Wine
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers
Rating: R
Author's Note: Written for porn battle, prompt "ownership."
Warnings: Explicit sex, sub/dom overtones.
Summary: The Ivy Barrington Foundation Fundraiser was the first time Natasha took him to bed.
The Ivy Barrington Foundation Fundraiser was the first time Natasha took him to bed.
He'd spent the evening shaking hands and giving noncommittal answers to invasive questions and trying to avoid the partygoers who seemed just a bit too pleased to met him.
His eyes kept being drawn to Natasha. He wasn't sure why she'd decided to come to this particular party, but she circled the crowded ballroom, looking lovely and aloof and untouchable. She'd met his eyes a couple times, smiled, her lips red, but she didn't approach him. Steve wished she would. They were friends, or at least Steve thought they were, and he desperately wanted to talk to somebody he actually liked.
As the evening wore on, Steve felt more and more uncomfortable, like his skin was on too tight.
About a quarter to midnight, he sensed Natasha at his elbow.
"You look like you could use a rescue," she said, amused.
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, and set the drink he'd been holding down on the nearest table. Like it had been discussed, Natasha walked out of the ballroom, and Steve followed.
She led him to the elevators, and they rode up in silence. Steve thought he should say something, but his mouth was dry, and though he didn't name what he thought was going to happen, even in his head, he didn't want to say anything to make it stop.
He followed Natasha out of the elevator, into her room. As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, Natasha was shoving him back against it. She grabbed his tie, pulling his head down for a searing kiss.
He groaned.
He felt Natasha smile and then she nipped his bottom lip.
She wrapped a leg around him, dug her heel into the back of his knee, and he went down. She had him hold that position for a long moment, him on his knees before her, Natasha's grip on his tie forcing him to gaze up. Steve's pulse was thudding dully in his throat, his chest, his cock.
Natasha's smile was wicked. "Good boy," she breathed, and Steve dug his nails into his palms as a wave of sheer want hit him like a train.
"Stay," she said, and stepped away. She released his tie, turned away.
She walked slowly to the narrow table set against the wall and seated herself on it, back to a mirror. She rucked her skirt up, peeled off her underwear - black, lacy, that was all the detail Steve caught before she was tossing it negligently away.
She titled her head, called him to her, and Steve crawled across the floor. He wrapped his hands around her ankles, the silky fabric of her stockings slick under his touch. He didn't think of Natasha as a small woman, but her ankles felt impossibly delicate under his hands.
He bent his head, kissed her ankle bone.
He dragged his face up her calf, liking the friction of it. When he reached the tops of Natasha's stockings, he kissed the line where skin began, then, before he could think twice and lose his nerve, he licked at the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
He felt Natasha inhale almost silently. She opened her legs wider, gripped his hair with one hand.
Steve could smell her arousal, spicy-salty, and he leaned forward to taste. She was wet, slippery under his tongue, and it took a moment to get the right position, Natasha's legs over his shoulders, her hips tilted up, his hands curled around her thighs.
He licked into her, exploring, mouthing the delicate folds of her sex, circling the hard nub of her clit with the very tip of his tongue. His mouth, his chin, grew slick with her, his neck at an awkward angle, but he wouldn't stop for anything, not when Natasha was making those delicious, pleased, encouraging sounds, not when he could feel her inner muscles working, the sweet tension of her body as she got close.
Natasha snapped her teeth together when she climaxed, her grip on his hair painful. She murmured praise to him as she came down, stroking the damp hair at back of his neck. Steve felt in true, even if he was panting for breath, even if his erection was pressing almost painfully against his zipper.
"Thank you," he said.
"Oh, Steve," Natasha said, laughter in her husky voice. "I think that's my line."
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers
Rating: R
Author's Note: Written for porn battle, prompt "ownership."
Warnings: Explicit sex, sub/dom overtones.
Summary: The Ivy Barrington Foundation Fundraiser was the first time Natasha took him to bed.
The Ivy Barrington Foundation Fundraiser was the first time Natasha took him to bed.
He'd spent the evening shaking hands and giving noncommittal answers to invasive questions and trying to avoid the partygoers who seemed just a bit too pleased to met him.
His eyes kept being drawn to Natasha. He wasn't sure why she'd decided to come to this particular party, but she circled the crowded ballroom, looking lovely and aloof and untouchable. She'd met his eyes a couple times, smiled, her lips red, but she didn't approach him. Steve wished she would. They were friends, or at least Steve thought they were, and he desperately wanted to talk to somebody he actually liked.
As the evening wore on, Steve felt more and more uncomfortable, like his skin was on too tight.
About a quarter to midnight, he sensed Natasha at his elbow.
"You look like you could use a rescue," she said, amused.
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, and set the drink he'd been holding down on the nearest table. Like it had been discussed, Natasha walked out of the ballroom, and Steve followed.
She led him to the elevators, and they rode up in silence. Steve thought he should say something, but his mouth was dry, and though he didn't name what he thought was going to happen, even in his head, he didn't want to say anything to make it stop.
He followed Natasha out of the elevator, into her room. As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, Natasha was shoving him back against it. She grabbed his tie, pulling his head down for a searing kiss.
He groaned.
He felt Natasha smile and then she nipped his bottom lip.
She wrapped a leg around him, dug her heel into the back of his knee, and he went down. She had him hold that position for a long moment, him on his knees before her, Natasha's grip on his tie forcing him to gaze up. Steve's pulse was thudding dully in his throat, his chest, his cock.
Natasha's smile was wicked. "Good boy," she breathed, and Steve dug his nails into his palms as a wave of sheer want hit him like a train.
"Stay," she said, and stepped away. She released his tie, turned away.
She walked slowly to the narrow table set against the wall and seated herself on it, back to a mirror. She rucked her skirt up, peeled off her underwear - black, lacy, that was all the detail Steve caught before she was tossing it negligently away.
She titled her head, called him to her, and Steve crawled across the floor. He wrapped his hands around her ankles, the silky fabric of her stockings slick under his touch. He didn't think of Natasha as a small woman, but her ankles felt impossibly delicate under his hands.
He bent his head, kissed her ankle bone.
He dragged his face up her calf, liking the friction of it. When he reached the tops of Natasha's stockings, he kissed the line where skin began, then, before he could think twice and lose his nerve, he licked at the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
He felt Natasha inhale almost silently. She opened her legs wider, gripped his hair with one hand.
Steve could smell her arousal, spicy-salty, and he leaned forward to taste. She was wet, slippery under his tongue, and it took a moment to get the right position, Natasha's legs over his shoulders, her hips tilted up, his hands curled around her thighs.
He licked into her, exploring, mouthing the delicate folds of her sex, circling the hard nub of her clit with the very tip of his tongue. His mouth, his chin, grew slick with her, his neck at an awkward angle, but he wouldn't stop for anything, not when Natasha was making those delicious, pleased, encouraging sounds, not when he could feel her inner muscles working, the sweet tension of her body as she got close.
Natasha snapped her teeth together when she climaxed, her grip on his hair painful. She murmured praise to him as she came down, stroking the damp hair at back of his neck. Steve felt in true, even if he was panting for breath, even if his erection was pressing almost painfully against his zipper.
"Thank you," he said.
"Oh, Steve," Natasha said, laughter in her husky voice. "I think that's my line."
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