"What do you want, Loki?" Natasha demanded, turning to glare at the man who was following her. He'd been doing so all the while she had headed back to the training room, a place he did his very best to stay away from, and yet there he was. His lips parted into a slow, steady grin, one that blatantly had mischief written in the corners in his eyes, the seams of his cheeks.
"Why dear Widow, what is to say I am the one who wants something?" he asked, stepping closer very slowly. She felt her chest tighten, her heart bursting into a new tap dancing routine that it seemed keen on practicing every time he came even close to her. It upped the tempo when he stopped just in front of her. She crossed her arms, determined to keep her face blank. She wouldn't respond, wouldn't give in or in any way let onto the way that she wanted to reach bag and bury her hand in that mane of hair and force his lips down onto hers-.
Not at all.
"You're always looking for something. What?" She demanded. "You haven't gone back to the training room since Hulk-."
"I am referring to the way that you look at me when you don't think I'm looking," he murmured, voice quiet in her ear as he leaned over to press his lips delicately against the shell of her ear. She barely contained the shiver that threatened to race down her spine before pulling away.
"Stop it. I don't know what you're talking about." She growled, eyes narrowed. How the hell had he found out?! If Clint talked-which she knew he never would, but still, she'd murder him. He knew she would. There was no way he'd said a thing. Right? Hell, he'd hardly said a thing to Loki since the time he'd put pictures of horses all over Loki's bedroom and the god had, in kind, turned the archer into a sugar glider for the evening. None of them let him live it down, especially not Phil, who Clint had clung to all evening as he squawked and growled his anger that no one was helping him. They'd all been too busy laughing.
Nat was snapped out of the memory when Loki started to chuckle once more, the noise going straight to Natasha's navel and pooling there.
"I believe you do. But I am curious; how are you imagining me?" he asked. He'd backed her up into the wall before she could so much as stop him, his breath hot and laced with what seemed like desperation. "Atop you, holding your arms above your head while you writhe underneath me, knowing that you'll never be free because I am simply too strong, but rather than just laying back to enjoy it you fight me for every inch of freedom you can get? Or are you riding me, your breasts filling my hands as you bounce atop me, my name on your lips as you reach your climax over and over again?" He asked, delighting in the way her breath hitched in her throat-it actually did that, dammit all! This wasn't fair. Her eyes were looking anywhere but at him, trying to pick a point on the wall and remember her training. It shouldn't have been this difficult, but it had been some time since she'd last been with anyone and Loki's voice in her ear was sinful.
"No-you're a woman," she finally gasped out, pushing him away. He stopped, eyeing her, and Natasha's face composed itself into a self-satisfied smirk. Yeah, how did he like it when the tables were turned? It sucked. "And ah, seeing as you don't have the equipment I want that's not going to happen. Good day, Loki." She turned around once more, retreating into the haven of her training room.
It was embarrassing the way he got her worked up so easily. Nat had retreated to the locker room, forcing her cheeks to cool down. She'd been spending way too much time around the team; it was making her weak and compromising her ability to keep all her emotions hidden (though if she was honest with herself, she didn't always want to go back. There had been little to be able to show emotion over.) With quick hands she changed into the training gear always made available; she'd been so hasty to clear out of the kitchen when Loki had arrived she'd forgotten to grab a change of clothing. Her mind still worked over her change since she'd come to be a part of the Avengers. She hadn't thought she'd gotten too far away from what she used to be. Perhaps she smiled a little more, laughed a little louder. She wasn't treading on eggshells. Surely that couldn't have been a bad thing?
'Emotions will make you weak and make you worthless in the field.' Ivan's words rang in her ears, giving her goosebumps. He might have been an ass but he was probably right.
Did she ever want to go back to that, though? It had taken her enough time to break out of her skin as it was. She hit the punching bag harder, having taken the idea from seeing Steve wail on the bags whenever he was angry. It certainly helped, and once her arms had started aching she couldn't help but smile. It was a welcome relief from the pounding of her head and the confliction of her heart (though she supposed if she kept her emotions locked away in the first place she wouldn't have this sort of issue. Damn it.)
She couldn't help but smile when Loki didn't resurface immediately afterwards. Perhaps Nat hadn't lost all of her tricks after all if she'd managed to scare him away. Clint asked about her smile the next morning at breakfast, noticing aloud that she'd been in a much better mood since the demigod had disappeared.
"Could it be you finally came to your senses and stopped finding him in any way endearing?" Clint asked, smirking as he took a bite of his coffee cake. She just rolled her eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She muttered, turning her eyes back to her own plate of egg whites, scrambled and fruit. Clint called her anorexic, but too heavy of a breakfast and she felt weighed down for the day. Anyway it didn't do to gorge herself when she might end up not eating for some time on mission. That lesson was never lost on her, no matter how well she had it with the Avengers.
"Sure you do," Clint smirked, leaning back against the counter as he looked at her. "You and the green-god of mischief. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him that you want to jump his bones, even before you told me-ow!"
She'd clocked him upside the head, scowling.
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying-."
"And I'm telling you to shut. Your. Mouth. Or I'll talk him into turning you into an animal again; this time a rat or something that doesn't yowl at three in the morning." Her eyes went hard as she threatened him.
"I couldn't help that I was restless I told you guys that!"
She just snorted and finished up what was on her plate. It wasn't until she was over at the counter washing her plate that he brought it up again.
"No, but really. Are you okay? What happened between you two?"
There was more silence, this time of Natasha's doing, as she dried her dish before putting it back in the cupboard. No matter what Stark said about his super advanced dishwasher she'd prefer to just do them by hand. "I told him that if he wanted to get with me he basically had to be a woman."
Clint's laughter reverberated through the halls as Nat walked away.
It was three days later when Natasha heard the familiar sound of Loki popping into being behind her. Strange. He'd never appeared in her room before. Generally he seemed to try and stay out of her private business and for that she was always glad. At least this time around she was fully clothed. "Loki what the hell do you think you're. . . ." The last word died on her tongue. As she'd been turning to reprimand him, scowl firmly in place, her expression faltered. That was not Loki. The woman was tall, curvy in all the right places that would've made a lesser woman cry with rage, and with bright, mischievous green eyes coupled with a smirk that could only be called wolfish, all teeth and the sure confidence of a predator. Her hips were cocked at just the right angle to keep Nat's eyes focused.
Screw tap-dancing, Natasha's heart full-on stuttered.
It didn't help that this very female Loki wasn't exactly wearing what could be considered clothing. She seemed to have raided Natasha's lingerie closet for ideas because Natasha was pretty sure she owned the exact same corset, a token from a job well done in Paris where she'd spoiled herself on the high end green lace contraption.
Damn Loki for pulling it off better.
The woman stepped closer to Nat, allowing the spy to understand completely why men were often so tantalized and beguiled with the sway of a woman's hips, and when she stopped in front of Nat she leaned closer to press a kiss to her cheek. "You did say I was a woman in your fantasy. Are you not pleased?"
There wasn't a word for what Natasha was. She coughed an answer up anyway: "I was joking." But there was nothing funny about this. Not in the slightest. Natasha didn't often go for girls outside of missions; they got too emotional and though they knew exactly what Nat wanted it didn't ever feel the same.
She was more than willing to see if it Loki would be any different.
Feeling more like an inexperienced virgin than anything she let Loki stretch her back onto the bed, scooted back so that she was laying on the full length of the bed. Loki got on her hands and knees and prowled-there was simply no other word for the way she moved-towards the red head, a knowing smirk on her thin lips.
"Do you prefer me this way?" She murmured as she drew closer, her hips flush against Natasha's as she sat herself down atop the assassin. Natasha could hardly breathe, her eyes blown wide as she watched Loki's long, nimble fingers undo the clasps one after another of the front, allowing her breasts to fall out from their confinement. There were marks from where the corset had bitten into the other woman's skin, and Nat sat up slowly to kiss her way down them. A soft sigh left the dark-haired woman's lips, her pale skin rising into goosebumps as Natasha worked, keeping her mouth busy so that Loki didn't draw attention back to the question. Not that the sorceress would forget; Loki never forgot. One of Loki's hands laid Natasha back down on the bed, grinning as she pressed her thin lips to the redhead's. She was every bit the talented kisser that Natasha had thought she would be, able to coax moans and whimpers from Natasha that very few had ever managed to.
Holy shit.
Loki's quiet laugh caught Natasha off guard, the sound shooting down her body until her toes curled at the pleasure of hearing it. What kind of crazy magic was this? She asked Loki that, back arching as the goddess played with her breasts, palming them and lavishing attention on them with her mouth one at a time, as reverent as the mortals that likely served them centuries ago.
"There is no spell for me to place on you. This is simply you and I. You wanted me as a woman and I obliged," Loki hummed against her skin, making Nat gasp and laugh quietly at the sensation. Loki tipped her head upwards so she could catch Natasha's hooded eyes before bringing her lips further down to Natasha's flat stomach, her hips, then to her center, already wet and ready for the sorceress.
It was nothing like the other times she'd had sex in the past; most of those times had been either on a mission or else a quick tumble when she needed to get it out of her system and her vibrator was back at home. On the few occasions she'd gotten to sit back and enjoy it she generally stayed on top anyway, preferring the control to being beneath someone else's weight, no matter how familiar they were. But then, with Loki? It was near perfect. Her green eyes had closed, as if she was taking pleasure from running her tongue over Natasha's most sensitive folds, finding and sucking so hard on Natasha's clit that the assassin screamed-she screamed!-the other woman's name. One of Nat's hands grabbed a hold of Loki's hair, begging her not to stop. There was something that resembled a murmured "never" against Natasha's lower lips before it resumed again with just as much vigor as before. In no time Natasha's back was arched so hard she was amazed it hadn't broken, her eyes had fluttered closed as her whole world went white, and her voice had gone hoarse from shouting Loki's name.
Well, they didn't call her Silvertongue for nothing.
When the world eventually came crashing back down around her Nat managed-barely-to look up and down at the sorceress. She was licking her lips, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, as she gazed at Natasha.
"I'll ask you again: do you prefer me as a woman?" She asked, moving to lay down besides Natasha. She hadn't asked the assassin to return the favor, much to Nat's surprise, simply relaxed as if she'd been the one who'd had the earth shattering orgasm, watching as Natasha's body still quaked with the aftershocks.
"It certainly has its merits," Natasha admitted with a slow, easy smile. She reached out to caress the side of Loki's head, and with one neat tug she'd laid the other woman flat on her back and crawled atop her. "But now it's my turn."
They didn't leave the room for the rest of the evening.
A/N: Welp! First time writing femslash . . . ever. There needs to be more Lady Loki x Natasha love, so I wrote some. Sorry if Nat seemed slightly OOC; I tried fixing it but heck, I'm never sure if I do her justice. She's such a great character. Thanks for reading, and as ever the characters don't belong to me! The title of the fic comes from the song by Fever Ray of the same name. It's such an interesting and out there song yet I associate it with Lady Loki for whatever the reason. Anyway-enjoy, and thanks again!