The moment the door to the bathroom was shut, James leaned against it and took a deep breath, shaken up by what had happened. Without further thought, he tore open his pants and wrapped his hand around his aching cock. Remain distant? He'd laugh at himself if he weren't so damned-
Coherency stopped the moment he wrapped his fingers, still damp from Natasha's essence, around his weeping prick and stroked once, twice, thrice before shuddering and spilling over his clenched hand. His breath of relief was instantly followed by a colourful sting of swear words.
He flung off his clothes and stepped into a viciously cold shower, one that brought to mind the Siberian wastelands he had only recently inhabited. Standing under the cold stream of water, he realised he had seriously misjudged the power of the situation. He had not expected to react so strongly in the face of her needs. Her body was perfect, a perfect weapon in perfect form and her longing lovely. He felt like some sort of pervert when he thought about it. She deserved his respect and protection, not his unbridled lust.
Yet here he was, standing under a punishingly cold stream of water recalling what it was like having her clench around his fingers and wishing it was his prick instead.
He picked up the shower gel and gave himself a good scrub, hoping that it would be enough to stave off the reaction within himself for a while yet. This was not about him after all, this was about her needs, not his. He let out a soft groan when his prick twitched once more at the idea. He would stay shivering in the shower for a while longer it seemed.
He leaned his head against the tiled wall of the shower, how on earth was he meant to keep this isolated when he came up against such raw passion? He had been so sure of his ability to remain distant through this that he was unprepared for it. He had never thought she would see him as an object of desire, rather he was a good pair of hands and a handy prick, not someone she would actually want! She seemed to be making this all rather personal… How could she want him in this way, they hardly knew one another!
Stepping out of the cold water, he shivered into a towel he had placed on the radiator. He dried himself of rapidly and reminded himself that this was not about him, it was about her. If Coulson had been the one to see her first, it would be him that she was asking to undress instead!
That thought did a great deal to banish the remaining desire in him.
Freshly dressed and showered, James poked his head around the bedroom door. The soft breathing was regular, letting him know she had slipped into a doze. Taking a breath, he left the room and headed off to try and make them something to eat. His stomach was growling. He was not a decent cook but toast was something he was able to manage.
By the time he had a pile of it on a plate; Natasha had awoken and popped herself in the living room, which was attached to the kitchen. "It's not too burned," he said as he brought the pile over to her. She picked up one of the pieces and gently nibbled on the end.
"I was wondering whether I could go out," she mumbled after swallowing.
"I don't think that is a good idea," he said, "Not until the first hours are passed." She pressed her lips together and he knew she didn't like what she had said, "What would we do if the compulsion came upon you while we were out?" he asked.
"I hate being such and inconvenience to you," she said with a small shake of her head.
"You may as well get used to it," he siad, biting down on a piece of toast, "You're going to be an inconvenience until the drug runs out of your system," he said.
He saw the hurt in her eyes before she spoke.
"It wasn't my idea," she snapped, "Do you think I want to be like this with you?"
"I don't want this either," he retorted, stung by the apparent emphasis on the word you. She made no other sound, just rose from where she was sitting and darted off. She knocked one of the old coffee mugs from the table, smashing it onto the floor. He heard the bathroom door slam and he winced. A quick glance at the floor showed a small trail of blood leading to the bathroom.
"Fuck!" he cursed, aware that he had spoken out of turn. She had cut herself! By the time he was at the door, he could hear the water running; maybe that was what she needed, some time to think and a hot bath. He headed back to the living room to clear up the smashed cup and to finish off the toast. She would be able to clean up and would come out calmer, he would apologise too; he owed her that much after all.
The minutes ticked by and after twenty had passed according to the wall clock, he headed back to the bathroom.
"Natasha?" he asked as he tapped on the door.
"Leave me alone!" she said. He could hear the tremble in her voice and sighed. Not wanting to but having no real choice, he opened the door. There was no lock on it.
"They took the lock off in the first week when I shut myself in here and refused to come out," he said.
"Get out!" she snapped. Her arms were folded over her breasts as though she was protecting them and he shook his head. She was sat on the toilet seat, her foot resting on the edge of the draining tub.
"I came in here to apologise," he said. His eyes were drawn to her still bleeding foot and he frowned, "How come you didn't bandage it?" he asked.
"I can't get all the shards out, I can feel it, just not get it," she said. He reached behind her, avoiding her gaze and pulled a small first aid kit out of the cabinet. He had a set of tweezers in his hand moments later and he was pulling the shard from her foot with a steady hand.
"Might sting," he said warning her before tugging it out. She hissed but did not cry out. The moment the shard was free. He pressed a piece of gauze to it and had it bandaged before it could bleed all over the floor. He gave her foot a pat, "I am sorry," he said.
She nodded an acceptance though he could see from the look in her eyes that the curse, if it could be named as such, was beginning to take hold of her again. "James…" she whispered. He nodded.
Bending down, he scooped up her slender form and headed back to the bedroom. She was amazingly light in his arms and the way her hands looped over his neck was surprisingly comforting. He placed her gently down on the bed and she grinned up at him. If it wasn't for the haze in her eyes, he could almost believe this was real.
Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he placed his hands on her calves and tugged her so her bum was level with the edge. His hands slid up her calves up to her knees before coming to rest at the tops of her thighs, pressing down in a circular motion. There was no need for words; her need voiced itself as his instinctive response and she parted her legs so that her hungry little quim was level with his eyes. He silently buried his face amongst her curls, spreading her labia with his right hand, his tongue darting out to taste her for the first time. Cat-like, she purred when his lips sealed over her trembling clit, her hands curled into his hair, tugging lightly as he lapped at her, keeping his mouth where she wanted it. It occurred to him, when she shattered around his mouth, that he had grossly misjudged his ability to remain unmoved by her unrestrained passion.
Spent, she sprawled over the bed. Without a word, he scooted her over and took the covers down. He slid in beside her, still fully clothed and tugged the covers over them both. He stretched out beside her now dozing form, his erection aching against his pants, mocking his idea to remain unmoved. Natasha curled up into his side and they both slipped into sleep almost simultaneously.