The sky outside Natasha's window was already dark when she woke up, finding her head resting on top of Steve's heaving chest, his arm draped over her petite body and for the first time ever that day she noticed something undeniably peculiar about the whole situation.

Here they are, together, naked, in bed, waking up from a very passionate series of sexual encounters they just had.

She slid herself off his body and off from the bed, sitting on the bedside, legs hanging down the edge, running her fingers along her greasy mess of red curls, checking the hour on the digital clock on her nightstand. It was ten already.

How did she end up here? Why did they do what they did?

It was a stupid question because she vividly remembered every second that they just spent. They had sex, and kept having them up to the point that both of them were too exhausted to continue, and they drifted off to sleep. And she knew she felt that weird burning feeling inside her, something that she felt ever since she woke up on the hospital ward. She didn't feel hungry, not at all, and got through the whole day locking herself in her room, surviving with nothing but cold sink water. She felt uneasy, like something was missing, but she didn't know what. But when Steve Rogers showed up on her door that noon, she suddenly knew what.

She wanted him.

But...why? What caused this? Was it the chemicals that they inhaled or sucked into their skin that day on their failed mission a week ago? That must be it.

She heard a grunt, then the bed squeaked as he shifted his weight and sat down. She turned her head to greet him and was greeted by yet another kiss. It felt so wrong, yet so right at the same time.

Before she knew it, he alredy had her pinned down on the bed, his lips trailing small kisses along her middle, palms holding her hips in place, then thumb caressing over the dark spot on her breast where he gave her a bruising hickey, and another one on her collarbone, another one on her right waist. He moved up again and found her lips, but this time, he closed his eyes and parted their lips, putting their foreheads together instead and saying, "You think everybody else figured out what we've been doing in here by now?"

She looked up, and found his eyes staring into hers, searching for answers. For truth. For explanation of what's truly going on with them. "We've been having loud animal sex for the past eight hours, Steve. So...yes. I think they do."

"You're so...beautiful." He smiled and pecked on her lips once more, and this time it's her who rose up from the bed to plant kisses all over his pecks and abs, hands feeling the hard,toned muscles on his pale arms, making him sigh and grunt at the sight. She got in control and rolled their bodies so she got on top, sitting on his lap and knowing for sure that again, he was as hard as he could ever be.

She's not much of a talker, in bed or not. And she had always convinced herself that she's the most controlled, rational person she ever knew in her whole life, but her body is betraying her and her mind is so filled with lust she longed for nothing but to devour his exposed body once more. And a few more times before they get tired again, she thought.

He cupped her breasts in his hands, rising up to sit down and sink his mouth on a nipple, making her uncontrollably moan, hands tussing his equally greasy blonde hair.

"Steve," She panted and he replied with a hum, moving to the other breast.

"We have to−" She let out a pleasured moan. "Stop−and talk about it."

He threw his head back to the pillow, his thumbs still stroking over her nipples. Out of reflex, she grinded hard against his length and he groaned out her name.

"Seriously, we need to−talk−"

"Save it for later." He quickly replied with a pleasured sigh, guiding her hips to sink down on his length, both of them gasping and moaning in the process. They didn't talk no more, just simply moving their bodies to pleasure themselves and the other, Natasha resting both palms on his chest while he held her wrists. He laid there in awe, watching her move and fall apart right at his sight, her buxom figure curving in all the right ways and tight muscles in all the right places. He would be lying if he said he has never thought of this day happening. He is a leader, he is wise and respectful, and he really treats her as an equal, but he is also still a man. But this scenario actually happening? Not in a million years, he always told himself. So this, this unbelievably gorgoeus woman that other men fawn over and bawled their eyes out just looking at her from the distance− the sight of her truly being here, pleasuring herself to his company is something he is gratefully feeling blessed for. And saying she's beautiful is an understatement.

She came with a soft writhe, panting hard and almost completely falling limpy on top of his body, so he held her in his arms and twisted them over so he was on top of her, slamming a few more good last thrusts before he finally fell apart, locking his lips with hers as he came inside her for God knows how many times today.

"What is going on?" She whispered, voice familiarly low and husky. Steve knew by now that it's completely unintentional; everything she says sounds sexy, because of they way she talks, but he knew she can't help it. It's just the natural way of her voice sounds. And he's certainly not complaining.

He rolled to her side, staring onto the empty white ceiling. The room was mostly dark, if it were not for the moonlight and the stars shining outside. Panting, he took some time to catch his breath before replying, "I don't know."

"I don't think I can spend even half an hour with you in the same room and keep my hands to myself."

"Neither can I." He quietly murmured, turning his head to the side and was met with the pale green shade of her eyes in the darkness. Under this lighting they look almost blue, gray even.

"So what do we do?" She asked, and that question sounded like the kind that needs a hopeful answer.

"We tell Fury first. Then we'll see what we can do."

"I'm sorry." She sighed, curling herself to a ball. Steve reached for the blanket and wrapped it around them.

"Yeah, and for what?"

"For running away without your permission in the middle of the fog. If I hadn't done that we would probably not be here."

"Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault. You wanted to finish the mission. It was understandable."

"I just hate thinking that I'm wasting your time I guess."

"Wasting with what?"

"Having sex with me. You probably already have a girlfriend to tend, you don't need me to add more drama to your life."

That sentence caught Steve speechless for a moment. "I don't−have a girlfriend. And you're incredibly gorgeous." He was blushing and he wondered if Natasha could see it. He's really not comfortable of being sweet with a girl, it makes him feel awkward and shy. But he figured that Natasha is not just a girl; she was his partner, his friend. She's more than a pair of boobs and ass to impress, not that Steve usually see a girl like that. Of course, finding her gorgeous is unfortunately inevitable, hence the dirty dreams he sometimes had of her.

He was expecting a sassy or witty comment from her but instead of that he got a serious answer. "I thought you've been seeing someone?"

"I am." He pursed his lips together shyly. Thinking of the blonde haired woman she told him to start seeing. He did. "It was that nurse you were talking about."

"Sharon?"

He nodded.

"Why didn't you just use her name?"

"I don't know."

She was silent, looking at him and analyzing his expression for a moment. "I'm sorry that I made you cheat on her."

"No, it's okay. It's not that she's my girlfriend."

"But I bet you'd rather have her in bed than me."

That's not true. But he didn't say it. He simply gazed at her and caressed her shoulder blade, fingers trailing to the smooth skin of her arm.

"Wanna know something?" He started, eyes following the movements of his hand. How can a person be so soft but lethal at the same time?

"Yeah?"

"That first time of ours−it was my first time."

"Ever?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Ever." He looked up at her waiting for her response, again waiting for a flirty comment, or whatever sounds Natasha-ish. But she said nothing, and for that he felt thankful. He loved the funny, flirty Natasha,but this version of her, the serious one, is not so bad either. He's starting to enjoy this side of her too. It took him a lot of considerations, but he finally gather up the courage to ask her, "How about you? When was your first time?"

"Long, long time ago."

He waited for her to elaborate but she never did, there was a dark glint in her eyes, like she was remembering something devilishly sinister from her past, and he got curious but he decided not to push her to it. "Can I ask you another question?"

"You techinically just did, and I can't promise you that I will answer, but shoot."

He quirked up a smile, pulling her hand and tangling it with his, making her stare at his action and she moved to curl her fingers to his touch. "How many people have you slept with?"

This time she was smiling, flirtatiously. "Why do you wanna know?"

"I just do."

She sighed. "Too many to count, Steve."

"Try to."

She closed her eyes and muttered something indistinct, and Steve waited. After a while he raised an eyebrow and said, "Really? That many?"

"Fifty seven. No, fifty eight. Yeah, fifty eight, including you."

"That is...impressive."

"You're not going to label me as a slut or some other slur?"

"No. Of course not. Why would I?"

"I don't know, men usually back down whenever I tell them my number. I know I've done a lot of things in my past, mostly that I'm not really proud of, and sleeping with a lot of men happens to be one of them. And women too."

Steve was taken aback with her last sentence. Picturing Natasha with another woman...is actually pretty hot. "You're attracted to women, too?"

She widened her smile. "Not as much as I am to men, but sure. You can say that."

"Did you−" he stopped. But looking to her curious eyes he asked it anyway, "Did you and Bruce, ever−"

"No. He despised himself. He won't risk touching me and hate himself further." She answered monotonously, but continued with a chuckle. "Why, you jealous?"

He didn't answer, but he was blushing.

"I think I need a shower." She finally said.

"I'll come."

"Oh, I can assure you you would literally come." They both laughed at her answer, and he closed her laugh with a kiss as she started to get up from the bed. She pulled him up with her, walking to the shower while occassionally kissing each other, him planting kisses on her back and shoulders even when she was fussing with the faucet. A rush of warm water fell from the shower head to the two of them and he quickly attacked her mouth again, palming her ass and pulling her pelvis to his.

"One thing about shower sex−it's impossible." She manage to say when he was busy kissing and sucking on her neck.

"Really? We're doing it now, aren't we?"

"It's gonna be awkward, and dirty and−" She let out a girlish squeal as he pushed her back to the nearest wall, holding her in place and kissing her lips.

"As long as it's with you," He sucked on her lower lip. "It's just as perfect for me."