Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100

Read The Birth of Wanheda, before reading this, since this could be seen as a direct sequel, if you want

Pain's price

It had been several hours since Natasha Romanoff, otherwise known as the Black Widow, had first tied Clarke Griffin, otherwise known as Wanheda's wrists to the bars of the bedpost of their often shared bed, getting the hell fucked out of her by the redheaded Natasha, watching as her blonde lover writhed under her as she bit the young blonde's neck.

Natasha wasn't a vain woman. Or she'd like to think she wasn't. She had her flaws. Her many, many flaws.

But she was not vain.

But she knew her own strengths too. Her own…talents. And that included the talents that she exhibited in the bedroom.

And she certainly didn't think she was without grounds for feeling proud of herself for being able to gradually wear out her non-human lover, who had far more energy than any human she had met.

Today was August 5th. That on its own, was not strange. Not in any sense of the word. But it was rather…important, given what had taken place on this day, years ago. Years ago, a young girl by the name of Clarke Griffin, who had broken out of the prisons of the Ark that had come down to Earth and had gone into a rampage, killing anyone she came across, went into refuge in the forests, had been found by the dangerous Mountain Men, and had tried to take advantage of her knowledge of her people.

But through a complicated struggle, Clarke had gained the upper hand and had wiped out the Mountain Men.

This was reason for great celebration amongst all those who had known of the Mountain Men, for the Mountain Men were known of to have stolen multiple people and drain them of their blood and bone marrow, and they would have done the same to the Ark people.

But for Clarke? The bearer of this dark and bloody deed? Someone who had administered the destruction of an entire people, and in doing so had wiped out all the children of that civilization?

For her, it was a festering wound that would be revisited on this day, every year.

Since the Mountain and before Clarke had met Natasha and the other Avengers, Clarke had distracted herself on this day in many, many different, painful ways. It always turned Natasha's stomach to hear what Clarke had used to do to herself. So that was where she had come in.

She had learned of what Clarke had tried to do to herself on her twentieth year on this day, August 5th, and she had interfered. She had interfered now again, that Clarke was twenty-two

And would continue to interfere.

Her twenty-two -year-old lover, a year ago, had almost slashed her wrists open repeatedly, trying to cut her own veins out.

Natasha had stopped her, had pinned Clarke up against the wall and placed herself over Clarke, warning Clarke that the blonde would have to hurt her lover to slash her wrists open. Clarke had growled at her that she would heal fast, incredibly fast. And so, there was no reason for Natasha to stop her.

But Natasha had refused. If there had been one thing that the redhead had learned, after meeting Clint Barton, being taken in by him and his family, was that even if someone could heal fast, didn't mean that self-harm was excusable.

And just because verbal abuse wasn't physical, didn't make it abuse.

Natasha, during her time with Clint and Clint's family, she had called herself things like, "beast," "murderer," "evil," and so on. Laura, Clint and their older child at the time, Jillian, hadn't stood for it.

And they hadn't stood for her attempts at self-harm either.

Natasha hadn't stood for Clarke's attempts to hurt herself either.

At some point, Natasha had been able to get Clarke to stop trying to hurt herself and had lured Clarke to her bedroom, seated Clarke down onto the foot of her bed and had seated herself down next to Clarke.

She had promised Clarke that they wouldn't do anything if Clarke didn't want to. But Natasha refused to leave Clarke alone at that time.

Clarke had nodded and had leaned in against Natasha. They had ended up in bed together, naked this time, and Clarke had tried to get Natasha to hurt her, but Natasha wouldn't. instead, Natasha pleasured Clarke till Clarke was nearly unconscious, kissing Clarke all over her neck and shoulders as Clarke slowly went off to sleep.

This had happened again on the second year Natasha had known Clarke, on August 5th.

Now in present day, Natasha knew that she would have to give Clarke some pain. But for a price.

Natasha bit Clarke's right inner thigh, hard, piercing the skin. Clarke gasped, whining at the pain, and Natasha made Clarke pay for the pain that she had administered to her lover, the pain that her lover sought out, right set of fingers going to Clarke's clit and rubbing her fingers against it harshly.

Clarke screamed and twisted on the bed, eyes squeezing shut.

Natasha smiled sadly. She would give Clarke what she asked for. But for Clarke's sake, there would have to be a price. That price? Soft and gentle pleasure to balance out the pain. And it was exactly why Clarke believed that she didn't deserve that, that she would give Clarke what the younger woman needed, even if pain was what Clarke asked for.