If there's one thing Loki loves most about Natasha, if he's truly honest with himself and looks past the fact that yes, he loves her as a whole and no, he doesn't objectify her just because she is a beautiful woman, it's her hands. They're small, almost dainty, looking as though they'd be better suited for sewing or playing an instrument as some of the maidens back in Asgard did. They're steady, too, completely still when she holds them out to him. She could have been a doctor like Banner, he thinks, running his lips down the back of them before flipping them over, and her dexterity is unparalleled. He's seen her dismantle bombs and the features on a man's face with those fingers, each knowing just the way to twist and bend and poke and prod to get the results she wants. She would have been great at it. She's pulled back the string of Barton's bow before loosing arrows with nearly as much precision and surety as the Hawk, pulled the triggers on countless guns to the detriment of her enemies, and tapped in the codes to shut down the systems of terrorists all in a matter of seconds. The tips of her fingers brush against the curve of his bottom lip and he presses a light kiss to each pad of her finger, feeling her twitch. After all the knives she's dealt with she still has excellent feeling and her nerve endings are amazingly all intact, or at least it seems that way. They're soft, too, the skin silky and smooth despite all the battles she's been in, all the fighting she's done with her hands, the endless hours, days, weeks, likely years of combat they still feel smooth as a rabbit's fur.
"Loki," she murmurs, her voice sounding more amused than anything else. He ignores it in favor of pressing his lips to her palms. He's watched her break bones with these palms, shoving the heel of her hand into a man's nose so hard the force drove the cartilage and bone into the bone. He's watched her clutch the hilts of blades, swords, daggers and throw them with exceptional aim, hitting backs and chests and training dummies alike with the same precision and drive. He's watched her start up the quinjets and hack into databases and even manage to keep up (most of the time) with Tony when he gets going on his own server, and though she's had to have him teach her on more than one occasion her ability to remember is nearly as striking. He's watched her pull him apart with those hands, stroking and playing and teasing with the lightest of touches to the most needy, fervent grasps, picking at his seams and opening him up to her all with just her hands. He's come undone at those hands, and heard of many a men who have had the same pleasure before her fingers wrapped around their throat with surprisng strength to end their lives before they can share the secrets her hands hold.
"Loki." She's sitting up now, looking at him with one brow arched. "Are you ever going to start making love to me instead of my hands?" She presses her lips hard against his, soft and supple and perfect.
He decides he likes those just as well.
A/N: Short and sweet because I love me some Blackfrost fluff 3 Hope you liked!