The door slammed shut behind her and she glared at his back. Deep down she knew it wasn't his fault. He had no idea what was going on in his past either. Nor did she had a clue why she was being so sensitive about it. Maybe it was the fact that Fury had kept secrets from her about herself, perhaps it was that she felt he should know a lot more than he did. He'd had two years since he had fled HYDRA for crying out loud, how long did it take to recall these things?

It could be the memories would never return and that was a more frightening thought than anything else. She bit her teeth together and watched James' back. The shape of his shoulders and how they gently narrowed to his waist was a most pleasing shape however right now, all she wanted to do was push him out the way. This in turn made her feel mean, she was usually so in control of her emotions and he didn't deserve to be man handled just because she was annoyed.

Or maybe he did…

He reached the sofa and she have him a not too gentle shove. The only reason he stumbled over the arm and sprawled out, she was pretty sure, was because she had caught him off guard.

"What was that for?" he protested. Her eyes narrowed and he froze, stopped struggling to get up, "If this is about the memory thing back in the computer suite then I am sorry," he said. Why was he so damned calm about it? She snorted.

"How can you be so easy going over it?" she asked, voicing her thoughts.

"It's not exactly a new thing for me," he replied, "I'm constantly learning things I have done without my knowledge. Just because I look like I'm taking it well doesn't mean I am. It means a fresh load of nightmares as those memories come to the surface." He retorted. Hah, not so calm now huh! She walked to the end of the sofa and looked at him lying there.

"Do you know what you did in the Red Room? What they did to us in there?" she asked, not too sure why she was goading him.

"Trained children, taught them to become killers," he replied.

"Taught me how to kill," she said. "You did that."

"Not like I had much of a choice in it," he said. The anger really showed in his voice now, which had risen to a louder pitch than he usually used. A hot tingle built in her spine and the familiar melting sensation rushed through her once more. She was on him in seconds. Her hands pinned his shoulders down with all her weight. Her eyes widened, dark, showing very little colour. With a shove, she pressed herself against him. Refusing to let him move, she pushed her tongue into his open mouth. His response was immediate.

She used her hand to tug his head back, long hair making it easy for her. His mouth opened, allowing her deeper access into him. She felt his teeth graze roughly against her lip as she let the anger consume her completely. She bit down on his lower lip then, sucking on it as she felt his hands begin to roam over her waist. They were more irritating than anything else. She wanted his kiss, wanted him still. She wanted him! By the feel of it he wanted her too.

Not letting up for a moment, her hand deftly fiddled with his fly. He moaned into her mouth when her fingertips brushed against his erection and she hummed a response. The feel of him was familiar by now and she had no qualms about freeing his prick from the constraints of his pants and running her hand over the length.

His hands touched the hollow of her hip and she hissed. Her crotch began to burn; this was no time for gentle touches or tender strokes, she wanted him, wanted him keenly. Rising, she shucked out of her suit, loathe leaving contact him if even for a moment. She did not fail to notice that he used the distraction to rid himself of his clothing too. Normally she would take a moment to admire his naked form, however today, she just wanted him.

She didn't want for him to say anything, she resumed her former place and resumed plundering his mouth. Her crotch ground against his hard cock, coating it with moisture. His groan was all she needed to hear, "Natasha," he mumbled into her mouth.

"What?" she snapped. She arched her back and sank down onto him, a soft breath of air leaving her lips. His hands, one cold one warm, found her hips and he immediately began moving. She thrust with him. Not the gentle, easy movements of before, oh no, this was something far different.

Feeling every small movement he made, she matched it with her own, sliding up and down his prick. One of his hands cupped her breast and she hissed when he pinched. That wasn't quite what she had in mind… leaning forward, she braced her weight on his shoulders again and clenched. The sharp narrowing of his eyes told her it had the right effect.

"It's not my fault," he hissed, punctuating his movement with his words.

"Shut up James," she said, "Shut up and fuck me!"

His hands slid to below her bum then and he flipped them over, "What was that?" he asked as her back hit the couch. Her legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him where he was.

"I said 'shut up and fuck me'!" she replied. Her hands grabbed the side of his face, some of his hair and brought him down for a searing kiss. It appeared he did not need to be told twice. He began to push into her sharply. She gasped as a shock of red flashed through her. Her nails found his bare back and dug in sharply as she let out a cry. "James!" she yelled.

"What?" he snapped back, mocking her earlier tone. His thrusts remained as sharp as ever, his pace speeding and becoming erratic. She began to clench around his prick, feeling every movement. It was her turn to have her eyes widen and she gasped again as he pounded into her. "It's. Not. My Fault!" he repeated. Her legs trembled around his waist as the expression on his face changed. His eyes lost focus. Her body shook and she cried out, knowing exactly what was happening.

White chased red and she felt herself falling into the abyss once again. The ecstasy that followed blew her away and she was dimly aware that he was shouting out something too.

When she returned to herself, he was there beside her, arm around her waist keeping her close. She rolled to face him and smiled gently. A hand brushed a lock of his hair back from his face and she tucked it behind his ear, "I know it's not your fault," she whispered, gently kissing his damp forehead. A brief smile fluttered onto his lips and he nodded.

"It's not yours either," he said. She nodded, knowing they were both victims in this matter.

"Doesn't mean I'm not angry about it," she said.

"I noticed," he replied. "If you want to take your anger out on me again sometime, let me know…"

She chuckled at that and swatted his bare shoulder, finally beginning to feel a little better.