(Steve and Natasha are deeply, passionately in love. However no couple ever agrees on everything and a determined and sometimes reckless super soldier and an equally determined and occasionally hot-headed spy are no exception. But if the fighting can get intense so can the making-up. Steve/Nat)
(Title taken from the song by Eddie Schwartz. Most notably covered by Pat Benetar it appeared on her album "Crimes of Passion" in 1980 that started her string of four straight Grammy awards for Best Rock Vocal Performance, Female.)
Pepper Potts bolted upright in bed, searching for the noise that had brought her out of a sound sleep. She looked beside her. For once it wasn't Tony's snoring as he was breathing softly beside her, oblivious to whatever had woken her.
Well Stark Towers probably hadn't been invaded as Jarvis had not sounded an alarm. Still, she could hear something going on and decided to ask the AI.
"Jarvis?"
"Yes Miss Potts?"
"Whatever is that noise?"
"I'm afraid Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff have returned from their latest mission and seem to be having a disagreement of some kind. They are on the observation deck just below you so the sound seems to be filtering through. It has been going on since they arrived although it is just now that it has been getting this loud."
"Are they throwing anything?"
"No."
"Alright then." Pepper rolled her eyes and then rolled on to her side and spooned back against Tony. She wasn't worried even though she had gone through a great deal of delightful planning and plotting, both on her own and with the able assistance of Sif, to get the pair now arguing to admit how they felt about each other. Both were strong willed, determined and convinced that any course of action they chose was the correct one. Naturally occasionally the other disagreed. Usually strongly. But she already was pretty sure how it would end.
"Jarvis?"
"Yes Miss Potts?"
"Please muffle the sounds from the lower floors."
"Immediately."
Two floors down Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff glared at each other while they caught their breath. Both were so intent on their staring contest neither heard the subtle clicks that indicated Jarvis had closed certain vents that the AI had determined were carrying the sounds of their argument around the upper floors of the building. Then it was time for round two. Or maybe this was round three actually. They hadn't started arguing until they were in the elevator but the strained stony silence on the ride back had just allowed both of them to get more and more worked up.
"You're wrong!"
"No I'm not."
"Not only are you wrong but you're too pig-headed to even realize it much less acknowledge it."
"What I'm acknowledging is that you can't go off on your own whims whenever they strike you."
"A Whim!" For an instant words seemed to fail the speaker. But only for an instant. Taking a deep breath the redheaded woman planted her balled fists on her hips and glared at the much taller man in front of her.
"Your problem Steve Rogers is that you have no room inside that particularly thick skull of yours for improvisation. 'Stick to the plan, stick to the plan' is all you can think of. Well sometimes the plan goes to hell and when it does you have to make your own way and there's no time to sit around and debate it."
The powerfully built man didn't flinch. He pointed a finger at her. "YOUR problem Natasha Romanoff is that you don't stop to think about things before you act. Suddenly you were gone and I had no idea what you were doing."
"I was doing what needed to be done!" Natasha was almost shouting now. She pushed the accusing finger out of the way and moved to stand nose to nose with Steve, who did have to look down to make that happen. "Intelligence was faulty. The plan was flawed. I took action. What IS your problem?"
"My problem," Steve boomed in a voice to match hers, "is that I didn't know where you were!"
"I can take care of myself!"
"That's not the point."
"Well what is the point?"
"The point is that you CAN take care of yourself but when I don't know where you are or what's happening for all I know you could be in trouble." Suddenly his voice dropped to a whisper. "And when that happens I get scared. Scared I might lose you."
The tension went out of the room like air from a deflated balloon. Natasha reached up and stroked Steve's face; the face of the man she loved.
"Oh Steve."
He turned his head slightly and kissed her fingers.
"I'm sorry. It's unprofessional of me. I let my feelings get in the way sometime. And that could get both of us hurt."
"I'm sorry too Steve. I get caught up in the moment. I forget I'm not alone any more; that I have a partner who cares and worries about me. And whom I love."
"I love you too Nat."
The two partners, partners in battling all the evils of the world and partners in life looked at each other. The mood had shifted and they both knew it.
In a move as sudden and unexpected as the leap of a hunting cat Natasha leaped at Steve. Strong though the super soldier was he was caught off guard. He staggered backwards. The guard railing around the floor to ceiling windows that lined three sides of the room kept him from testing those windows strength as he bumped into one. That worked out well as Natasha twined her arms around Steve's neck and there was enough space to wrap her legs around his waist.
"Nata..." his attempt to remonstrate with her was cut off as she locked her mouth to his.
Surprised Steve might have been; stupid he was not. His arms circled Natasha and he hugged her to him. And soundly kissed her back. She kneaded the back of his neck with her strong hands and squeezed with her legs. Steve was well aware that she had felled more than one bad guy with the grip of those legs and blessed his greater than normal strength and stamina. To him it just felt wonderful.
Surprisingly she broke the kiss first, drawing her face back from his. He looked at her in puzzlement.
"Watch the hands buster."
"What? Nat my hands on just on your back."
The spy wiggled. "Exactly. Put them where they should be."
There was a time when Natasha s openness about sexual matters would have made the World War Two hero blush as red as his partner's hair. But having been a couple now for some time with all the attendant benefits (once she had finally got him to give in) he just grinned. His hands slid down and he grasped what he considered to be the most perfect formed rear end in the world with both hands. And squeezed. Squeezed firmly, pulling her completely against him.
The duo continued to kiss as Steve hefted Natasha slightly and headed across the room.
"Where... are... we... going?" asked the red-head, the sentence broken by a kiss between each word.
"Quarters," Steve replied briefly. After another kiss he added "Shower."
She had to admit that sounded like a good idea. Upon their return from the (successful in spite of both their complaints) mission this was as far as they had got from the landing pad before the argument started. In fact they had begun it in the elevator and ended up here by mistake but this floor seemed as good a place as any to carry it on.
Without losing his grip on her Steve leaned forward and sideways, bumping her knee against the call button. When it arrived they staggered inside. He raked the back of his hands along the floor buttons. No doubt he had hit a dozen or more which meant it would take some time to get to their floor. He wasn't going to waste the time as he tried to shower kisses over every inch of her exposed skin but he wished it would be faster. He really wanted all of Natasha available for him to kiss and he could hardly get her black leather outfit off here.
As he nuzzled Nat's neck he caught sight of the elevator buttons. All the lit ones went out except for the one for their floor. He mentally sent a "Thank you" to Jarvis and made an equally mental note to tell the AI just that out loud. Later. In the morning. Maybe the afternoon.
The elevator came smoothly to a stop and the door opened. Steve headed out finding his way by memory since he was unable to see anything except Natasha's face at point blank range. He supposed he could have looked around but that meant he would have to stop kissing Nat. That was simply out of the question.
A door clicked. Steve headed for the sound. Feeling a slight air current he judged they had reached it. He turned around and backed through so that if his guess was wrong he and not Natasha would bump into the wall or door or door frame or whatever. No disaster happened. When the back of his legs struck something it was their bed and he happily toppled backwards.
Safely on the bed Natasha wiggled out of his arms. That turned out alright because that also allowed her to wiggled out of her outfit, leaving her in no more than a bra and panties. Since both were very skimpy and black lace to boot he feasted his eyes on her. He was astounded how fast she could do that and then attack his clothing as well. He usually spent at least twice that amount of time just getting her boots off. He reminded himself that he had decided to work on that, although he wasn't sure just how he could practice it. Then Nat had his shirt off and one strong arm hooked around his neck was dragging him down while the other was at the waist of his uniform.
Obviously a shower was going to have to wait. Kicking his pants down Steve fell on top of Natasha and solved the problem of her underwear using his teeth and lips. From Nat's enthusiastic sounds he felt he had done a very good job with that. And since that meant he had kissed his way down her body all the way to her ankles he decided it was only proper he kiss his way back up.
It was a good idea he tough but as usual he found himself diverted when he was only halfway up. He parted the muscular but still shapely legs and buried his face in his lover. As always, she was delicious.
Natasha grabbed the covers, balling them up in her two clenched fists as she hung on for dear life. She would not squeal, she would NOT squeal no matter what Steve did to her, no matter how wild she was driving him she was in control. She was the Black Widow and...
"Oh my GOD! Steve!"
At least she didn't squeal. She thought she didn't. Was screaming the same thing as squealing? Regardless she had just about lost her mind and certainly had lost any semblance of control as Steve had brought her to a series of orgasms, one right after the other. She collapsed against the bed, vaguely aware that in spite of how hard she had yanked she hadn't ripped the covers into shreds. And Steve was sliding up her body with a wicked grin on his face the likes of which once upon a time he would have never been able to muster. My, how he had changed. At least as far as making love was concerned. The rest of him she never wanted to change.
They kissed. Deeply. There was something about the flavor of her own juices on his lips, on his tongue that sent an excited shiver through her. It was there because he wanted to please her, make her feel good. Okay, make her scream his name. And she loved him for that. But it was time to regain the upper hand so to speak and make him feel as good she was still feeling. Of course she'd enjoy it too.
To think was to act for Natasha Romanoff. Hooking one leg around Steve she rolled over, pinning him under her. She straddled him, guiding him into her. As wet as she was he slid all the way in as she settled down, wiggling once more as she did. She took Steve's hands in hers and brought them to her breasts. Once again she found, as she had since the first time they were together, how perfectly her breasts fit in those hands. "Made for them," Steve had once declared. She braced her hands on her hips and began to bounce up and down.
At first she went slowly and didn't raise herself too high since she was so slick already there was a real possibility she would bounce right off him. But after a while there was no choice as both of them became more and more passionate. Finally Steve took her hands and placed them on her breasts. She grinned down at him. He did so love to watch her play with them. Then he settled his hands on her hips. Thrusting up at the same time that his strong hands and arms were pulling her back down on to him each time she rose up.
Both of them prided themselves on their self-control. And when both of them lost it at the same time the results were amazing. They went on and on until he nearly bucked her off. Only his hands on her hips and the grip of her knees on his kept her in place as he emptied himself into her. The first hint of the blast set her off as well, the pulsations of his shaft triggering her explosion. She fell forward on top of him.
Eventually Steve managed to sit up and then stand up. Reaching down he scooped Natasha up in his arms.
"Where are we going?"
"Shower," was once again the brief answer.
Somehow Steve managed to get both of them into the spacious tiled shower and into the hot steaming water without letting go of Nat. A voice command added body wash to the water and then replaced it with shampoo when directed. Nat worried for a moment about drowning but Steve carefully positioned her to keep that from happening.
There had been times that showering together had led to a great deal of fun and those games often went on for extended periods of time. Nat was tempted to tease Steve about being worn out after just one time but discovered she was much too relaxed now and far too sleepy to do anything but remain cuddled in Steve's arms. The water shut off and warm air, much too gentle to be called a blower, dried them, allowing her to leave her head pillowed on Steve's chest. It remained there after he carried her back to bed and they stretched out together. Sleep was upon them both shortly.
Just before they dropped off there was one last whispered exchange.
"I'm still right you know."
There was a pause before the answer came.
"Doesn't mean I'm wrong."
(The End)