So yes I saw Avengers and loved it. I pan on seeing it again. But I've been playing around with Loki and the Black Widow for awhile and I hope I did alright. I think I did but bear with me, my ankle is all messed up and I wrote this while dozzied up on a percocet.
Blah Blah do not own. Stan Lee, Marvel, Joss Whedon (witty bastard) and Disney do. If I did...well lets not go there. Tony Stark and I'd be tormenting the poor Captain all the time. Plus I'd steal all of Tony's scotch and booze with Loki.
His glare. It kept appearing in her mind's eye. Waking, sleeping, during training, even in glass reflections; it just followed her. Made her want things she should never want, at least not from him of all creatures. Since he wasn't truly a man, this godlike being who kept her awake. The hollowed eye glare, knowing he lost this time around and angry that he underestimated them and overestimated his own anger. Tasha was no stranger to that feeling.
They were intimate bedfellows as he oh so wonderfully reminded her. He glared at her then, watched her and bated her. She almost gave in. He was a sinful treat to watch (One she knew should never ever want. Forbidden like the western candy during her childhood full of regimes and black.). She knew that she shouldn't even remotely think that. He turned her best friend, made him into something that neither one of them ever wanted to face in the mirror again. When she watched him taunt her within that glass cage she burned. Ignited with rage she played him back, twisted him as expertly as he did his magic. He folded and spun out like a chamber in a roulette game.
When she turned and slipped away, down down down to the depths of ship to try and control the chaos he let loose so casually, she missed the curve of his lips. The self satisfaction gleaming in those glacier chipped depths. If she did she didn't have any time to ponder what it exactly meant, after all she had a "giant rage monster' to contain.
Her eyes light up, laughing about something the archer says. He watches as they all gather together. Sending him and his brother back to face his punishment; this burns even more because Thor still believes in him. So bright and golden, his brother clings so desperately to the hope he is good. That this domination attempt was only a desperate plea for his salvation. It didn't help that arrogant metal suited fool kept mocking the gag placed upon him. He kept slinging some form of insult involving cats and boxes. Which kept making the mortal form of the green Goliath laughing; it made his head ache only harder from the previously unwanted infliction of embedment in marble he received.
Loki narrowed his eyes and focused more intently upon Natasha, noticed how her lips parted as she caught him watching. She looked guilty and dropped her eyes downward, his lips curved up into a smile behind the gag. They shared something; something twisted and haunted. After all he did tell her ledger was full of red, dripping so very much like his own story. He could smell it on her skin, taste it in the air she exhaled. Gazed upon the shadows that danced around her feet and draped her body. He understood her regret and the realization that as much as one wanted to admit they were wrong and ask for redemption, one could never give it to oneself.
So he stood and followed his brother to the place where Heimdall would call them home. He was so very tired after all.
Natasha just wanted to sleep, after the week they had it should have come easily. She took a well deserved break from all the international intrigue. After she was an Avenger now, espionage was slightly elusive now. Clint convinced her they should take a vacation and nowhere near Budapest or Eastern Europe in general. They found themselves in a little tropical place where Tony of course had a house. Maybe he owned the whole island. Neither one of them cared, it was blessedly quiet. Tasha roamed around the property, soaking in the sun. Barton had somehow found a way to become that annoying tourist. He stationed himself at the beach with sunglasses hiding his eyes and some sweet fruity alcoholic concoction permanently glued in his hand. She'd watch him flex his arms as college girls just barely past the legal age to vote in most country prance by. She lost counts at the amount of filthy looks and hair tosses shot in her direction. Clint just soaked it up like the sun, his sly shit eating grin causing more UV damage than the actual celestial body above them.
Those moments only lead her to turn over and bury her head in her arms, hoping the waves and breeze would lull her to sleep. The past few nights were hard. She thought it was due to the stress of the battle and her body winding down from the tension. It was always hard after events like that, no matter how large of a scale it was. Her body just did not want to wind down. It felt like something kept pressing on her every time she closed her eyes, waiting for her to fall to the point she dreamed. She only wanted sleep, not something she had to puzzle over in her waking hours. So she let out a huff. A huff that caused Hawkeye to drop his sunglasses and squint at her.
"Go back to the house Tash, the Russian ice bitch pout isn't working on me." He pushed the aviators up and leaned back, "Lay in the hammock, bitches love the hammock." She rolled her eyes so hard she was pretty sure they were stuck in her skull. But decided to follow his advice, not before she swung herself up and proceeded to get Clint to dump his precious neon drink in his lap when she smacked him the head with her bag. Sometimes it paid to be quick on her feet. She was already halfway up the beach path when his shriek erupted.
Barton was right, she loved the hammock. She'd have to buy him multiple girlie drinks. Natasha grinned; he needed this as much as she did. After all she only did a battle of mind games and tricks with a god. He actually was possessed. Though he smiled and laughed, she knew he needed time to come to terms with himself not being able to control himself during the situation he was forced into. All they needed was a little time and she wasn't sure how much they had till the next threat.
The rocking lulled her away, Clint had come back awhile ago and the sounds of him through the open windows and doors gave a comforting background noise. He was playing some album that made her heart ache and burst at the same time. His voice sang softly along to lyrics about white blank pages and swelling rages.
Her mind focused on that thought, as she slipped down. The rising music lulling her further under as she faintly remembered a swelling and sweeping rage filling lost saddened hollowed eyes. Her eyes fluttered shut as other somewhere far away snapped open, bright and burning as somewhat cruel lips curved upward in satisfaction.
She was falling, her white dress whipping around her legs. She caught a glimpse of crystal as she crashed into water, bubbles swirling upwards as she calmed herself down. The water was warms, flowing around her skin as the blues and greens reflected around her. Her lungs didn't burn and she wasn't worried about air. She floated suspended in the middle of a room; it looked like one of the ones she dreamed about as child (when books could lead her away from the loneliness). Tall windows with long white lined curtains, light wooden floors where white chairs cozied up with ottomans and gilt painting and mirrors that reflected her wide eyed looks. She looked up and watched the water move around the antique chandler above. Her hands danced above, swirling the water around as she pushed herself upwards.
Sweet air greeted her as she broke the surface along with a melody she knew was playing behind her in the waking world. She didn't mind, it was soothing as she floated on the calm surface. Her head turned and she observed she was now in a pool that looked like one of the old baths on an estate. Grecian style marble and plants that dripped over surfaces, there was even tea set out. A beautifully plain set that was refined and elegant. All graceful curves blended with hard lines and greens and shimmering blues. Much like a pair of hands she can recall. Banging against glass and tapping. She could even smell the hints of jasmine wafting towards her.
She pulled herself up the side and padded over to the table, God she really was dreaming. Natasha simply did not pad. Ever. She only shrugged her shoulder and poured a cup. Lifting it up she sniffed and hummed to herself, sipping she wandered to examine more of her surroundings. She was correct, she was on the grounds on some estate, the house actually open to her with it French doors open and so tempting to run through. But it was still delightful to sit by the pool and dip her foot in as she sipped. Being wet didn't even bother her at least it didn't till she felt the presence behind her.
It made her stiffen, her breath catch and her body become more aware than she thought it should be. Something about this person made her hum, from her stomach to her toes an electric feeling zinged. She tilted her head to the side and tried to catch a glimpse of a reflection in the pool. All she could see was inky hair, curved lips and a long elegant neck. Her head moved back as the mystery crouched behind her, long legs encased hers just as an arm wrapped around her waist and sharp eyes trapped hers. She tried to twist herself away, shivering against him. His long hands grabbed at her hair, twining it around elegant fingers. It looked like lava slipping off the moonlight of his skin. He was clad in dark jeans (why her mind put the god of mischief in dark tight fitting jeans she'll never understand but damn if they didn't fit to him like a second skin), a dark green shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows and unbuttoned below his collarbone. The navy vest should have made him look like an idiot but it only showed off a lean torso. All sinew and grace, he made breathing look like a work of art. Her fingers played in the air, tracing his outline.
The grin he wore only grew as he reached out one of those hypnotic hands and took the cup that was trembling in her grasp. He placed his lips where hers had just been and sipped. Her eyes traced the line of his throat as he swallowed, her own lips parting and panting.
He was like those bits of candies she snuck as a child, are dark and forbidden. He was every fantasy she had as a teenager in the dark when she was so lonely and gasping in the dark, arching into her own touch. He all the things she wanted and denied herself now, the pain she tried to leave behind, the hope for something better and the knowledge that she might fail and never reach her goal to be whole again. At least with him she could maybe hope. That's all hope was, chaos running through your veins and tricking you into believing redemption was possible even for a minute.
He pulled her up, crushing her against him as he danced them away from the edge of the water. His hand still dragging through her hair. The soft curls captivating him, as though he could absorb some warmth just by holding it. Natasha spun away and ran away from him into the house. Playing some sort of game with him, because that was the only thing she knew to do around him. Beside lose control of her breathing and lose control of her utter sense of being. He knew. He knew her, read her ledger and taunted her with its secrets as she danced away from him and deeper into her dream.
She found herself in the room she swam in earlier. Dry it was as lovely as she could have hoped (the girlish part that was still secret and safe locked away for no one to see and make weak ever again, sighed in happiness). Peering into corners and opening door brought no hidden lords of lies to her sight. Tasha collapsed onto one of the chairs she floated above earlier, her dress still damp and clinging. A hand pulled on one of the shoulder straps, while a voice whispered, "Throughout all that play, are you sure the dress is the only thing that is still damp my dear? "
She could push him away and turn a look full of jutted chin and narrowed eyes at him. It didn't last long; he knelt down and stroked one of those fingers down her throat. She closed her eyes and wondered why his hands had to be shaped that way. Long, graceful and making her wish they would touch her on every part of her body. Make her arch into him as she did herself so long ago.
"Only if you want it. It is your dream after all." He chuckled, a deep sound that moved under skin. "Just nod to say yes and I will be every bit of delightful sin you want Natasha." Her own fingers danced to his hair. The espresso locks curling as she twisted them. She nodded.
The white dress swirled to the floor as prettily as it had when she crashed into the water earlier. Dark green soon followed and then there was nothing besides black and red spilling everywhere.
Collarbones were sipped at and tasted; lips still carried the hint of jasmine tea with the bite of something more. Tongues lingered and lapped as sweat ran down. Backs bent as legs wrapped around and pulled them closer. Fusing lava with the cold and creating fissure that cracked and filled with so much more than either knew the other was capable of calling forth.
Hours passed in the speed of a hummingbird's wings while minutes slowed down to the point Natasha could count each eyelash that brushed Loki's cheek and hear him gasp behind gritted teeth. His lips that could curl so cruelly found her plump ones; they purged away all ability to form what she wanted to say. His body made her forget she wanted to say anything at all. She had men before, but this one who wasn't a man but something so much more made her beg over and over. And still when his eyes opened and locked on hers as he plunged into her, claiming everything he could, she never felt the hollowness of winter. When he howled his release and she crashed downwards, her hands grasped at nothing and met with his.
Natasha woke with a start and a flip of the hammock. She wasn't in white and nowhere near a place that resembled some Jane Austen type smuggled teenage romance. It was hot and sticky (which honestly wasn't just because of the weather) and she could hear Clint yell from inside Tony Stark's island plantation house, "I told you bitches love hammocks." He popped out and grinned at her as she gathered herself up off the deck floor. "Sounds like you slept really well." She might have to rethink her earlier idea of keeping him supplied in floozy booze.
Rolling her eyes and turning away she decided it was a good time to shower. Looking up and catching her reflection she caught the man behind her. Leather, gold and green. Lips moving upwards and a mouthed promise of more sometime soon.
