December 2017
Natasha took a swig from the glass bottle bypassing a glass in the need for a little Dutch courage - or, giving it was an imported bottle of good quality vodka - Russian courage. She swallowed a large mouthful of the clear alcohol, feeling it burn as it travelled from her mouth and down her throat. She sighed, feeling like her body sagged at the loss of the breath she had just released. Setting the bottle back on the bedside table she screwed the lid on with vigour, she wouldn't let herself rely on alcohol to get through the evening.
The room was set, Natasha had removed the pointless collection of scatter cushions from the double bed tossing them in the wardrobe along with the bed runner. The blinds were shut, closing off the room and making it feel warm. The outside world was a cold one, although by her personal standards the December temperatures of minus 6 to minus 8 degrees celsius were far from cold. It was typical for Montgenevre however, as was the blanket of untouched snow outside their window.
Natasha observed the room. She didn't like it, the feeling was too homely, even the bedding was a warm cream colour dotted with little blue flowers. It had been years since she had needed to do this sort of work, and this wasn't working as such, but the adrenaline Natasha felt seemed more related to the room than her upcoming actions. This type of work was almost always restricted to hotel rooms, whether high-end penthouses or outdated motels, the lack of connection to any single person helped the ground feel neutral.
Natasha glanced in the floor-length mirror diagonal to where she stood, but her eyes were drawn back to the reflection unexpectedly. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to the sight of her body in lingerie, in fact, she often felt more comfortable in the sheer materials than in a basic t-shirt bra. It wasn't that the combination she wore didn't look right, she was happy enough with the fit. No, it was partly that the set was plainer than some others. She wore only a lacy balcony bra in black and matching underwear. Currently, a pair of black lace Garters were also sitting mid-thigh but she still wasn't sure about those. She had left her hair loose, used only a touch of mascara and lipstick and some splashes of perfume on her neck. It was simple, if she had even been the type of woman destined to one, long marriage then the image she saw in front of herself was of that alternative life. Clients, or those who required her services of manipulation through a heads up, they usually asked for or advised full corsets with stockings and suspenders or the opposite, an outfit so sheer and minimal in the fabrics used they could have been pieced from scraps. These were the ones with requests, with odd fetishes and fantasies but this night she would have something very different to achieve.
In some ways the clothing of those times, especially when she was still in her teenage years and very much afraid of the sexual aspect of her career, they were her armour. She had grown from a young adult into a woman in those clothes, she had learned to hide her fear, learned to fake her emotions and make the man involved feel she enjoyed his contact even if she felt numb. Now her armour had evolved she had her suit, her favourite weapons within reach and a team she could rely on, all of which felt less of a necessity than nylon stockings had felt to her at sixteen. She didn't need armour all the time, she didn't need to act, but the nature of this was so unusual it made her feel more naked than she was.
Shaking herself from the image Natasha tiptoed to the opposite side of the bed, turning on another small lamp and adding to the warm glow in the room.
Another deep breath in.
It was almost nonsensical that she should feel much at all, Natasha knew what to expect, knew that it was highly likely she would remain in control the whole evening, it was more the lack of props and acting, not being able to hide behind a character she portrayed. She had only given herself to two men in this way, being her true self, even if she had slept with many more.
She climbed onto the bed, glancing at the little bedside alarm clock which looked older than the building it stood in. She had a few minutes till he would knock on the door. Positioning herself on her side, a hand holding her head and the other following the curve of her hip, accentuating the dip of her waist, she waited.
Even though Natasha worked alongside a team which was mostly male and had heard every put-down and every manifestation of a pissing contest imaginably among the boys she knew more about some than others - and that wasn't including the time Clint made her check out a spot on his balls. Clint was open, she'd been in every situation imaginable with her partner and after the initial glances, they were more than comfortable being naked in front of one another. Tony, he hid things, he wasn't hugely body confident but then standing beside Thor and Steve, even beside Clint's arms, any guy would be insecure. He slept with whoever whenever in the past but had finally found his place with Pepper. She didn't know a lot about Thor in the bedroom arena other than his confidence matched his body, but she was sure he had a few partners under his belt.
Steve was hard, he took part in the teasing from the sidelines, laughed along but never said much else. She had kissed him in the past, and by his defensive nature, she got the impression he was trying to get back in the game but the modern world, a society of one-night hook-ups replaced his world of dating and waiting for marriage. He had a body that should belong to a confident man but as he had come to own that body outside the normal means it was like he had never quite grown into his muscles. In some ways he reminded Natasha of a pubescent teen, still trying to become comfortable with themselves while the world around him expected more.
She had no idea of what lay below the utility belt, and, the fact that worried her a little more, whether he had ever been with a woman before. She didn't want it to be that way for him, he was a friend, he deserved to give his virginity in a way that mattered and not as part of some experiment.
The knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. By the timing and the firm rhythmic way, the three taps on the wood were placed Natasha already knew it was Steve but she called out to him anyway - this was something that Sam didn't need to see and she was certain if he did then the story would become a legend.
He slipped into the room quickly, opening the door just wide enough to let himself in. She knew this was because he didn't want anyone walking past to see Natasha in her underwear. It made her smile a little in nostalgia, reminding her of the first time they had spoken, Steve had called her ma'am - something no one had ever said before.
Steve stood near the door, hands in his pockets and eyes firmly fixed on his shoes.
"I ugh, I wanted to make sure Sam didn't get the wrong idea or something."
"Sam's in the shower," Natasha replied, hoping that her voice would lift his gaze,
"I can hear the fan. And I am pretty sure that's meant to be Bohemian Rhapsody even if it does sound like a cat dying."
Steve smirked but still didn't lift his gaze. She allowed him a moment, waiting to see if he would find enough confidence to look up. His discomfort made her feel uneasy but in a way that she felt sort of guilty, guilty to make him feel this way, guilty to have the know-how to get through this when he didn't. Mostly guilty that she was about to try and seduce him, or at least get the necessary physical response from him to get them through the evening when, if Steve had ever had sex at all, it would have been with someone he genuinely cared for romantically, not cared for platonically.
"Steve."
Natasha sat upright on the bed, the duvet rustling a little as her weight moved. She waited for a second, watching, and he slowly shifted his gaze to meet hers. She was a little surprised that he didn't sever the imaginary line connecting their eyes, instead, he seemed to be taking in her clothes, or lack of most of them. The tips of his ears starting to turn a little pink, at first Natasha presumed his embarrassment was at her state of dress but when he moved from the spot he had stuck to, she was less sure.
It only took the tall, blonde soldier a few steps to get to the side of the bed and in those seconds Natasha met his thoughts. Steve was a soldier and like her, a tactician, he knew there was a way to do everything, sometimes a cautious approach was needed but he had decided to go in guns blazing so Natasha would have to join the fight as he saw fit.
When he reached the side of the bed, his knees brushing the duvet she had already lifted herself up on her knees, trying to match his height. Now was the moment to turn on the seduction and dial it up as high as Steve could manage. She met his eyes, taking hold of both of his wrists without breaking eye contact and pulling his hands to rest on her hips. His cheeks flushed a little more but Steve also made no attempt to escape. As Natasha run her own hands firmly up the front of his chest she not only felt the defined muscles but his heart pounding in his chest, she still expected this was panic although Steve's gentle grip on her hips had loosened and one hand moved to the small of her back.
Holding his jaw she kissed him, gentle at first but when he returned the kiss with vigour she fought back, kissing him harder. Natasha was surprised to see this reaction, he was giving more than she could have expected and each time she turned the dial one more position, biting on his bottom lip, unbuttoning and pushing off his shirt, running her hands over his skin, even when she gently guided his hand to her breast he was coping. His skin was warm to touch, his kisses meeting hers, she knew every step was an assessment and that she probably shouldn't be assessing his reactions so closely but it was hard to do anything else. Natasha knew that concentrating so heavily on Steve was preventing her from thinking about herself, avoiding even considering her own thoughts or feelings. She was used to being numb and, perhaps worried about letting herself feel in case she might feel the wrong things.
She started to let her hands work back down his body, as she reached his belt, pulling the end from the buckle Steve seemed to pause, his hands stilling on her body and his kisses slowing, Natasha broke the kiss with a gentle pop, trying to meet his eyes as she slipped her hand into his jeans.
Steve pulled away from her instantly, grabbing her wrist almost too hard.
"Stop!"
Before Natasha could begin to question anything Steve turned away from her, he sighed heavily, she could hear the growl in that sigh. Natasha let out a breath she hadn't even realised she was holding and watched silently as her friend took a few steps leaning his head against a comforting palm. He walked again, then turned, another growl of frustration before a gentle sigh.
Now he looked at her and there was clear distress in his blue eyes, Natasha felt her body deflate a little and her previous feelings of guilt seemed to rise as quickly as the sexual urgency dissipated.
"I'm sorry," Steve spoke softly, shaking his head and turning his gaze back to the floor, there was a beat.
"Steve,"
Natasha waited till he looked back at her before patting the bed beside her softly he accepted the invite, sitting heavily beside her, his head fell back into the cradle of his hands. She didn't know if she should comfort him, or how to go about it, should she hold him to her? Wrap an arm around his shoulders? It reminded her of many years in the past when another Red Room girl, Melina, had come back in a mess, she was shaking, scared by any loud noises for a week. They never knew exactly what this man had done to her, all they saw was her split lip and the four, round bruises on one side of her neck. These things, they were harder than the usual beatings, harder than the cuts and pulled hair or the punishment of no food for a week. Those wounds went too deep, they fractured parts of the soul, like a glass too many and the soul would shatter. She had to be careful, the soul of someone like Steve was more at risk than hers, Natasha somehow kept the shards together, even if sometimes they threatened to fall and leave an empty frame.
"I'm sorry," Steve spoke into his hands before pulling his head back up and repeating himself. He stared into the distance, looking at the blinds over the window but not seeing them at all.
"No."
Steve's eyes flickered to Natasha's questioning her. Natasha hadn't expected the word, it escaped her mind of its own accord and now that it had been voiced she would have to continue her thought.
"No, you shouldn't have to be sorry Steve. This, all of it, is strange and unusual and it's more my world than yours."
"Yeah, well way back I remember you stepping from the world you knew into a war."
Steve smiles a little with his response, his shoulders started to loosen as he began to feel the familiarity Natasha knew he expected with her.
"I guess, but it's part of the job, you keep your eye on the ball, never taking the crosshairs off target. I was made to adapt, I had to."
Natasha drew her feet up, crossing her legs and tucking her toes under them. Maybe following Steve's approach wasn't the way to go, it seemed he expected one thing when he needed the opposite. He needed time and Natasha had been the girl with none, she never got the opportunity to warm to things or the right to say stop, maybe she forgot to give that empowerment to others.
A moment of silence filled the air until their ears tuned in once more to Sam's singing in the distance, no longer Bohemian Rhapsody, but it still sounded like Queen or maybe something else from the eighties.
"Look, Steve, we don't have to do this. We can try syringes or some other method, we don't have to do it like this."
This time he sat upright, looking at her fully.
"No, we agreed this was the best way, the numbers agree. We can't guarantee the facilities to keep things sterile any other way and-."
He stopped, Natasha waited, realising in the lull that Sam's latest number was 'Don't stop me now.'
Steve released a sharp huff and began to unwind the scrolls of thoughts filling his brain.
"This way makes sense I just-." Steve lifted his hands up looking like he wanted them to assist in his description but when they offered nothing he gently slapped them down on his thighs.
"I don't know where to start Nat, I don't know how to do this. When I was a kid no one told you, you learned all about growing up through asking the other guys if it was normal. Or at least if their voices disappeared to you weren't the only odd one. You learned this once you got married."
He gestured to the room around them, looking strained.
"That education though, the kind you got behind the bike sheds or whatever? You don't need it, a manual won't help. You've just got to listen to you, what you want, what you feel. Or at least what the, ugh, little guy wants."
With her last words, Natasha nodded pointedly at the still unbuckled front of his jeans.
Steve sighed again, looking away for a second to contain his embarrassment,
"And that if he doesn't agree, what then huh?"
He needn't have worried, Natasha was once more a step ahead, slipping a thigh across his lap and positioning herself across his body, face to face. She saw the worry in his eyes hiding alongside the prospect of embarrassment. Natasha leant forward, crossing her wrists behind Steve's head. Their faces were so close neither could look away, she hoped that he could see the honesty in her eyes, hoped he could see how much she cared.
"We go slower, I'll guide you when I can, just feel, don't think, just focus on the sensations."
As Natasha reaches the close of her sentence she tentatively moved her lips to meet his, giving the offer and waiting for his approval which was met.
The kisses continued, increasing in pace and hunger and Natasha tried to take her own advice, to feel, not think. With her guidance, Steve's hands went to her breasts and she masked his hands with hers, showing him the pressure he could use but letting him take over within minutes. She could tell his heart rate began to race but what she could feel, pressing against her body, told her this time it was better.
Their eyes met again with honesty when Natasha let her hand slip for a second time into his jeans. She kept eye contact, watching and waiting for any sign it was wrong but taking a gentle grip she saw his eyes squeeze a little and then relax. Eyes closed he nodded, allowing her to use the tactics she needed - and for her to wonder if all of his body had been affected by the serum.
She was surprised as she lay on her back, that having her best friend both on and then in her body didn't feel as odd as it might have. Natasha just lay as she was, eyes closed, moving her hips with each movement of his. The familiar smell of the shampoo he used that she could smell as he pressed his face into the hollow of her neck, the familiar feel of his skin where her hand connected with his bicep. Even with no romance involved - although there was no doubting Steve was an attractive man - with no feeling of lust, no fluttering in the pit of the stomach when she observed his body. There was a comfort, a contentedness that perhaps you'd imagine in old married couples. She felt relaxed, peaceful, something that Natasha could rarely allow herself to feel fully. When she felt the warmth inside, listened to the shuddering breaths as Steve released everything within her. Natasha's eyes opened to see Steve looking back, waiting, watching, like he expected her to give him a grade out of ten.
He began to smile, shy at first but growing into a proper grin. Natasha laughed, shaking her head. He was alright, he got through it, she hadn't married him for life and as a result, tens of thousands of unicellular organisms were now swimming vigorously inside her body.
They had overcome the first hurdle, possibly the biggest they would have in this journey. It was unlikely any of this would work, Natasha knew from many an unprotected evening that pregnancy was no longer on the cards. This was the last chance they had, and the best reason to try.