Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1,500
Characters: Steve/Natasha
Prompt: "I'm a prince/ss and you're my bodyguard and we're so not supposed to bang but we kind of did anyways" au
For: an anon
A/N: We're going to have to come back to the royal siblings Natasha and Tony, because now that you've put the thought of Princess Nat in my head, I can't get it out!
the most wonderful time of the year - day thirty-one
"We should probably stop doing this."
"Probably," she breathes out, and then sucks in a gasp, tugging at his hair as he licks a gentle stripe up her oversensitive folds. She hasn't completely come down from her high just yet and every part of her is still tingling, still trembling in the last ripples of pleasure. He licks again and she whimpers, scrapes her nails over his scalp, and her heart does this stupid flutter in her chest when he lets out a soft chuckle. She bets if she looked down, she'd see that ridiculous (sexy) smirk on his face. Oh, the scandal that would erupt if someone found them: their princess splayed out on the counter of a hotel bathroom, her dress bunched around her hips and her bodyguard on his knees between her legs. Her father would kill her.
In her defense, she hadn't intended for this to happen. Not this time, anyway.
Natasha has always sort of done her own thing and her parents lets it slide, because they know that she'd never do anything to disrespect their family. And yes, she's adopted, but it doesn't make her any less of a daughter to Howard and Maria, or any less of a sister to Tony. She's been with them since birth, practically. She's always been a Stark.
And being from the royal family means that she's more than used to living in the spotlight. She knows how to play the game, and she's not like Tony, who liked to say things and pull strings just to stir up talk. It was never anything all that serious, and it was more exasperating than upsetting to their parents, so whatever. Natasha got a kick out of all the ridiculous stories people would write about him. And she's not an idiot. She knows that that'd been his way of protecting her. It was easy to slip under the radar with all of the attention on him.
But now he's married and totally in love and about to be a father, and obviously he's calmed down a lot more. She's happy for him. Of course she is.
It's definitely not his fault that this means the public has shifted their focus on her. Those ridiculous stories are a hell of lot less amusing when they're about you, and she's not pissed about it, exactly, but she's definitely irritated by it. Her parents hired her a personal bodyguard because the press harassment has gotten so bad. That'd irritated her at first, too, until she realized that Steve wasn't the worst person to have following her around. He's so old-fashioned that it's kind of endearing, but he's got a lot more sass in him than she'd expected. There are moments where he has to be serious, to be her security, and she gets it. But he treats her like a friend, too, and it's nice. The fact that he's ridiculously sexy helps a lot, too.
Sleeping with a bodyguard is such a Tony thing to do that, when it had first happened, she actually laughed. It'd been breathless and raspy because he'd been deep inside her and hitting that sweet spot over and over, and when his eyes snapped onto hers, she expected him to be pissed at her giggling. Instead, he got that smirk of his and angled his hips and made her scream, and fuck, just thinking about that has her whimpering all over again. She hadn't expected that night to happen at all considering how much he held back around her.
She almost thought she wouldn't be able to wear him down. Almost. But of course she convinced him in the end.
She's a princess, after all.
"Steve," she breathes. He's lapping at her clit, making her walls flutter, making her legs tremble, and she tugs him up by his hair. She'll come again in seconds if he keeps doing that. Which is kind of the point, because they can only be gone for so much longer without someone noticing. They know what they're doing.
He stands up, meets her eyes as he licks his lips. She makes this little noise from the back of her throat. Tease. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and gravelly the way it gets when he's turned on. "You deserve better than a quick fuck in a bathroom."
Her lips twitch in a grin as she fumbles with the buckle of his belt. "You'll make it up to me," she says, which is true. He always, always does. She pushes his pants and briefs down and kisses him, hard and deep and dirty, and she'll have to reapply her lipstick, but whatever. He hooks an arm around her and hoists her up, wraps her legs around him and lifts her off of the counter. (It's ridiculous how strong he is.) She sucks in a breath as he turns them around and presses her back against the wall, and then she moans his name as he sinks into her.
His lips ghost over her neck as he rolls his hips against hers, angling as deep as he can go with them like this. She lets out a cry and thrusts down on him.
"Quiet, love," he murmurs against the column of her throat. He kisses her there, teases his tongue against her pulse. She knows he wouldn't dare leave a mark, but her heart flutters at the thought of his teeth nipping at her neck the way they did the inside of her thighs. "Someone will hear you."
"Let them," she breathes, and he snaps his hips in response. She doesn't quite mean it and they both know it. Neither of them would risk anything that would put an end to this.
He squeezes her hips, grinds her down on him and brushes that spot that has her body trembling. She moans out again and he presses his lips to hers, nips at her lower lip before pressing his tongue against hers, kissing her whimpers away. He hits that spot again and again, braces his free hand against the wall for balance as he thrusts deeper, harder, and the back of her head hits the wall when her body arches, but she barely notices. He does, though. He pulls his lips from hers, asks if she's alright as she catches her breath, and it's stupid that this makes her wetter, if possible. She lets out this little noise and nods. "Wouldn't be a good bodyguard if I'm the reason you bruised your head," he murmurs into her shoulder.
She laughs. It's breathy and a little choked, but it makes him smile against the curve of her neck.
Then he brings a hand between them, thumb pressing over her bundle of nerves, and she whimpers his name. He rubs circles and circles, gentle but still so delicious and dizzying, and she arches her back and tries to grind down on him, but her body is shuddering in pleasure as he pushes her right at that edge.
Her walls flutter as she nuzzles her face into his cheek, panting into his ear. He groans. They still have to be quiet, but she knows he still likes to hear her.
When she unravels at the seams, he's deep and delicious and rubbing right against that sweet spot, and she kisses him, hard, because she knows she'll cry out his name loud enough for the ballroom full of socialites down the hallway to hear. A few more thrusts and he's rasping out her name, coming undone inside of her. She moans and clings on tighter.
"Natasha," he breathes a moment later, when they're both coming down from their highs. She smiles a little, grasps his chin in her fingers and kisses him, soft and sweet. He smiles against her lips, licks at the seam of them as he gently pulls out. She whimpers into their kiss as he sets her down, grips onto her hips as she wobbles on her thin heels. Fuck. They're kind of a mess and it's going to take a minute to put themselves back together, but whatever. She doesn't care. She just wants to stand here pressed against him for a little longer.
He smooths a hand down her hair – already working on fixing her curls, she can tell – and presses a kiss to the middle of her forehead.
He peppers a few more kisses to her skin as he helps her clean up, then drops another kiss to her forehead before slipping out of the bathroom. She takes her time touching up her makeup, and when she comes back to the party, no one seems particularly fazed. Her parents are still mingling across the ballroom, and Steve has taken a seat by Pepper, the two of them laughing about something as he catches her eye. She grins. Before she can take another step, though, Tony is grasping her by the elbow and pulling her onto the dance floor.
He smiles, pulls her closer as a few camera flashes go off. She tilts her head at him.
"Pretty sure you had a fancy pin in your hair earlier," he says, lips twitching at the corners, and, shit. It must've fallen off in the bathroom.
Tony smirks. He's never going to let her live this down.
