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The pull of overtired muscles barely registered as Natasha made her way into an inconspicuous apartment building. Her hair was a mess of tangled knots and blood, dried stiff with salt water. It hung limp over the supple line of her shoulders. On the back of her neck still lingered an uncomfortable post-mission awareness. With it, her small hairs prickled at the slightest unexpected sound.
Her keys jingled as she took them out of the backpack, a tacky 007 keyring catching the light of overhead lamps. It had been a birthday gift, nothing more than a joke. Now it hung on a gift with much deeper significance. Natasha smiled as she looked down. In her hand, the keys shone in the lamplight with the brightness of newly polished metal.
The door didn’t creak as it opened. The lights didn’t flicker. No flying dust caught the steady light because even the baseboards were clean. It was a comforting contrast to her own apartment and safe houses. The flight of stairs flanked by a cast iron handrail was becoming familiar—the quiet of neighbors in the late evening hour, par for the course. Natasha willed herself to relax into it.
She took the stairs, despite the strain it put on her legs. It wasn’t routine. Routines weren’t safe. The way she turned corners, deliberate in her expectancy of enemies, wasn’t a routine, but merely a habit. It was familiar. Her throwing knife stayed hidden inside her leather jacket sleeve and, soon enough, she reached the third floor.
The least familiar aspect of it all was the weight of keys rather than lock picks in her hand. She treasured the feeling, even as she ignored every screaming part of herself that fought tooth and nail against it. It wasn’t quite fear, but survival instincts that blared the alarms in her head, whether she liked it or not. The instinctual fear had grown fainter with time, helped by the sort of single-minded focus she knew one single person to be capable of. Now, it quieted with the sound of a lock disengaging.
Natasha closed the door behind her, even as she dropped her keys in a little bowl by the entrance. It rested on a solid wooden cabinet, and beneath it lined up combat boots and trainers in a neat row. The glow of the lamplight outside was enough to see the outline of a hallway. She flicked the lights on.
Further inside, a faint meow made her neutral expression melt into a smile. In came a little black cat, trotting towards her on silent paws. The cat meowed again when Natasha let herself drop into a crouch. Her meows devolved into loud purring with the scratch of Natasha’s fingers beneath her jaw.
“Hey, there,” she said, voice scratchy with the remnants of a hit to the throat she hadn’t quite dodged. “Did you miss me, Liho?”
The cat looked up at her with shining yellow eyes and blinked. Then, she meowed again and head-butted her hand. Natasha’s shoulders unclenched with the tightening of her heart. She looked down at the cat she’d never wanted, at her too big eyes and small paws, and felt her smile soften.
“Did Masha take care of you, you little demon?”
Liho’s tail flicked, her eyes trailing towards the apartment a moment before she tore herself away. Natasha took the chance to untie her shoes and leave them in their spot, next to the worn pair of boots. When she didn’t follow the cat, Liho paused in the middle of the hallway and, looking at Natasha, meowed again. The spy huffed a faint laugh. She got up and followed her to the kitchen, her steps as silent as the cat’s. Liho sat down right underneath the cabinet that held her food and, looking expectant, meowed.
“So, she’s finally taught you not to get up on the counter?”
Liho’s only answer was another insistent meow and a flick of her tail. When Natasha didn’t react fast enough for her, the cat jumped up onto the counter in one graceful leap. Natasha found herself laughing, even as she pushed the cat back onto the floor.
“Nevermind.”
Aching muscles and matted hair forgotten, she set out to prepare Liho’s dinner, a mix of wet food and dry food. Meanwhile, Liho paced and wove around her ankles. It was only years of training that allowed her not to trip on the tiny animal as she made her way around the kitchen.
Once she finished, she left Liho to eat her dinner in peace with one last scratch between her soft ears.
The main bathroom was methodically clean as always. Natasha almost felt bad for what she was about to do… almost being the key word. She dropped her clothes on the floor, leaving her weapons within hand’s reach. Touched by the cool ambient air, her skin itched with built up sweat and grime, layered with blood. Natasha grimaced. She’d need to clean up before starting a bath.
The light blue tiles on the walls reflected her tired face back to her whenever she wasn’t looking at the mirror. When she was, she couldn’t help but look at the bruises on her skin, making her muscles stiff and aching. Natasha wouldn’t complain. At least this time, none of the blood was hers.
Occupying one long corner of the bathroom was Natasha’s favorite part about Maria’s apartment. A luxurious bathtub gleamed white in the light, enticing in the comfort she knew it could offer. It was newer than all other bathroom utilities, and next to it sat a row of bath bombs Maria still insisted were for the both of them. Natasha knew better. Maria had always been far more prone to quick showers and long lounges in dry places.
Natasha tore her eyes away and looked at the porcelain sink, twisting her mouth. Then, she set out to work. She combed her fingers through her hair, lathering shampoo until the water ran clear down the drain, and then started on the conditioner. While it settled in her hair, she grabbed a sponge from the cabinet and wiped the dirt from her skin. She was glad to see that she’d been spared the worst of the blood splatter by her tac-suit. By the time she finished, her skin prickled with the shivering cold. She washed off the conditioner and tied her hair up in a messy bun at the top of her head.
She’d have a nice bath to clear the leftover sweat and dust, and then enjoy a relaxing night in. Natasha let herself daydream about the evening to come, aware that she might have to spend it alone. She had come back from her mission, but the intel she’d recovered was merely the start of a bigger operation, she knew. Maria would be at the head of it, and it wasn’t something she could delegate like some day-to-day paperwork. As much as the distance between them ached like some physical thing, Natasha understood it was an essential part of the job.
Some part of her whispered that Maria was good enough to be done with it already. Natasha sighed and started to fill the bathtub with steaming hot water. It fogged up the mirror and condensed into fine drops on the cool tiles. She watched one fall slowly and then quicker until it got caught in the space between two tiles and dispersed. It wouldn’t do to get her hopes up.
With the addition of some bath soap, the tub soon filled up with bubbles, floating gently over the surface. The smell of roses filled the bathroom, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile at Maria’s choice.
As a final touch, aware that the quiet wasn’t something she welcomed even in her calmest moments, Natasha set up some quiet music on the speaker by the tub. Then, she dipped her foot in, hissing at the stinging warmth of it. She lowered herself into the water until her nose was barely over the bubbles, which parted and flew off with the push of her breath. She smiled at the sight. It was much too soft, touched memories of a past she dreaded to think about, softened by Maria. Her home, her tub, her bath gel that was really Natasha’s. Hers and theirs and blurring together, always.
The click of the lock interrupted the thought, and Natasha tensed, already reaching for her gun. Then, her heart settled at the sound of keys dropping into a bowl, and the tension melted out of her shoulders. The distant murmur of Maria talking to Liho reached her through the bathroom door.
“You only get a treat if you haven’t scratched the sofa today. You know the deal.”
Liho meowed as Maria moved around the apartment with purpose.
“No, don’t you give me the attitude,” she said, like Liho was some impertinent baby agent at work.
The cat meowed again, and Natasha had to stifle a laugh.
“I don’t negotiate with sofa scratchers,” Maria declared, resolute.
They both quieted for one long moment. Before Natasha could wonder what was going on, there was a knock at the bathroom door.
“Nat? Can I come in?” Maria asked, raising her voice further.
“Yeah,” she said, relieved when her voice came out less scratchy than before.
The moment Maria had opened the door a crack, Liho came shooting in. She jumped and perched on the side of the bathtub, batting away at some soap bubbles all the while holding half a treat in her mouth. Natasha turned to look at Maria, taking in her rumpled uniform and mussed hair. Her eyes twinkled as they roamed over Natasha’s exposed shoulders. When she looked back at her face, Natasha smiled in amusement.
“She’s a tough negotiator,” Maria said with a shrug. She would never admit to having a soft spot for a cat.
Liho batted at the bubbles again, but aimed low enough that she hit the water. She paused and smelled her paw, and licked it. Then, she meowed, disgruntled, and jumped away, darting back into the apartment.
The sweet sound of Maria’s laughter, loose and free with overexertion, rang out in the cooling bathroom. The click of the door followed it as it fell shut once again.
Maria and her shared one long look, almost disbelieving of it being finally over. Her eyes were as blue as the fogged up bathroom tiles, warm as the water vapor still wafting in the air. She exhaled and took one step closer. Then another. Natasha rose, ignoring the soap bubbles clinging to her skin in favor of the slightest touch on her cheek. It tilted her head up until she was tasting the sharp mint of a chewing gum on Maria’s lips.
The kiss lingered and trailed off into another one, short and sweet. Their eyes met as they parted.
“Hey,” Maria said, eyes twinkling.
“Hey.”
All Natasha wanted to do was drag her down for another kiss, but Maria had leaned back and she was now too far away. Natasha got up further, until she felt her eyes trailing down her body, taking her in once again. She’d learned all of Maria’s tells by now. The need to check in at the sight of bruises warred with the softened line of her jaw, the shaky breath she couldn’t quite hide when Natasha leaned forward and offered her hand, palm up.
“Come here,” she said.
Maria held back valiantly, much to Natasha’s chagrin. Her eyes trailed down her body once again, this time searching for any hint of hidden injuries.
“Did you get checked out by medical?” she asked.
“It’s only bruises. I didn’t even need a band-aid.”
That was all Maria needed to give in. She reached up to undo the tight bun at the back of her head, then took off her uniform. It wasn’t a sensual display, but something to the point and so very Maria that Natasha couldn’t bring herself to care. She didn’t care if there was no sway of hips, not when Maria was taking off her undershirt and the flex of her shoulders had her mouth running dry, eyes roaming over the expanse of skin being so casually exposed to her.
With Natasha’s eyes on her, Maria’s breath was running quicker, her cheeks flushed from a combination of the heat and whatever thoughts Natasha’s request had put in her head. Still, she took the time to throw all of their dirty clothes into the hamper. They shared a look, a silent communication in which Maria looked at Natasha, then at the tub, apprehensive.
“Please?” Natasha asked, something mischievous in her sweet tone.
They had talked about it before, mere teasing the times they’d stumbled out and dried themselves on mussed bedsheets. Now, with the heat building between them at an unexpected pace, she doubted they’d even get that far. It had been too long. Too long on a mission, gone dark and no contact, all too far away from each other. Natasha just wanted.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather the bed?” Maria tried.
“I’ve just gotten in,” Natasha pouted, laying her head on her folded arms at the edge of the tub. It was playful, toying with Maria’s overt doubt. She could see the desire there, a rising tide painted by the darkening of her clear eyes. Maria was tired, but Natasha was winning her over.
“Drain some of that water,” Maria said, and it was the sweet sound of an agreement if Natasha had ever heard it.
While Natasha did as she’d said, Maria hummed and turned to open the bathroom cabinet. With no need to scan over the contents, she went straight for an unopened tube Natasha hadn’t noticed before.
“Oh, fuck me,” Natasha said as she recognized the silicon-based lube. Maria had thought about logistics.
Maria hummed in agreement and stepped closer to the bathtub. The hint of a smirk pulling at the side of her lips, betraying her nonchalance. It didn’t last, but dissolved the moment Natasha pulled her down for another kiss, rising up with it. Water and soap suds cascaded down the long expanse of her skin as Natasha arched into her, warm from the bath water and enticingly soft. Maria’s hands found their way to her hips, thumbs brushing over the dip of them before she pulled back again.
“Scoot,” Maria said, voice scratching past her throat despite the steadiness of her tone. Natasha wasn’t fooled. Maria’s hands traced restless patterns on the skin of her hip. Her eyes wandered down to her lips, with an all too familiar look in them. It all made her want to kiss Maria again, but the water was still enticingly warm and the air cooled the drops of water falling onto the bathroom mat, down the side of the tub, down Maria’s throat. She shivered.
“Unless you want to take this to the bedroom,” Maria said, teasing.
Natasha scooted forward, lowering herself into the water once again. Her quick reaction made Maria chuckle, the sound turning into a sigh as she got into the bathtub behind Natasha. They settled together, Natasha’s back against Maria’s chest, head tilted back until she could nuzzle at the underside of Maria’s jaw for a moment. Any hint of her body wash was gone after a long day at the command center. The leftover smell—gunpowder and the slightest hint of sweat, something so very Maria underneath it all—pooled down her stomach, warmer than steaming water.
“You smell great,” she said, voice slower than she’d intended, lulled by the sound of water lapping at the sides of a bathtub.
When her lips traced the path left behind by a drop of water, Maria’s arms tightened around her, sliding from her hips to her upper stomach. Natasha sank into the feeling of being surrounded by her, Maria’s long legs bracketing her hips and her head falling forward as she returned the touch, mindful of her bruises.
“So do you,” Maria said as she kissed the side of her throat, then trailed her lips over the dip of her clavicle. “Like flowers.”
“Roses,” Natasha said, eyes fluttering shut and mind stalling.
The heat was slow and unhurried now that they were pressed close together. Now that Maria’s hands worked on remembering the shape of her thighs. Now that her nails scratched as they made their way up, teasing and light only to run back up her lower stomach. She avoided the small scar at the center with long practice. Natasha’s breath stuttered at the feeling, but she didn’t press for more.
They gave themselves a moment to just still and take it all in. The tension on Maria’s shoulders slowly melted at feeling of an unharmed Natasha, bones unbroken as she ran her hands over sore ribs that wouldn’t give away. Natasha’s head tilted sideways and her eyes stayed shut, her back to Maria, her throat bared. A small sound left her lips when the kiss at her neck turned wet, clean water and skin on Maria’s hot tongue.
“Why roses?” Natasha asked, though she knew. She wanted to hear it spoken aloud in the way only Maria could, utter faith paired with unflinching stubbornness. The vulnerability of it struck her, even through the brain fog clouding her brain. It only made the flames burn brighter in the absence of fear she’d once thought carved into her bones.
“You know why,” Maria answered, voice low but all too clear over the soft sound of starting chords, some sort of slow song and little more than a piano. It needed no more instruments to be beautiful.
“Humor me,” Natasha said with a sideways smile, eyes blinking open to take in the lines of Maria’s profile, its sharpness softened by feelings.
Maria hummed, and the sound reverberated down to Natasha’s toes, then back up again in a bone-deep shiver.
“Because your hair is red like roses, not like blood,” Maria answered, voice slow but certain.
Natasha burrowed deeper into her embrace, drinking the words in. They poured like molten desire all the way down her stomach, then lower. Without words, Maria seemed to understand. Her hands rose to cradle her breasts, tender and knowing. Natasha gasped, back arching.
“Because you’re just as beautiful,” Maria said with a kiss that wasn’t quite enough. Natasha reached up and threaded a hand in her hair, holding her close. Maria didn’t let up, didn’t bite or scratch, didn’t grip harder. “Because it stung when I held you until I learned to do it gently.”
Natasha’s heart skipped a beat in her chest, the breathless feeling only increased by the cleverness of Maria’s hands on her chest, all too patient. Her heart swelled, and the feeling didn’t clash, but merged with the building heat, leaving her almost lightheaded.
“Masha,” Natasha said, deserted by words.
“More?” Maria asked, a quiet request that was just as familiar as the kiss of her lips at Natasha’s shoulder.
“Please.”
And Natasha didn’t beg. She didn’t bend to anyone’s will but her own, except Maria’s breath hitched at the word, teeth scraping and body coiled with desire. It was worth it to feel her like this. To feel the way her breath sped up as her hands trailed lower, spanning wide on her soft belly until unyielding muscles tensed underneath, thighs flexing as Maria urged them open, her knees bent until they surfaced over the fading bubbles.
“I wish I could see you right now,” Maria said, hands slowly trailing down her thighs.
She shuddered at the memories that phrase brought with it, Maria looking at her with dark eyes, hands still and holding onto the bedposts as per Natasha’s request. She’d watched, drank Natasha in like she was all she needed, even as molten desire ran down her thighs and stained the bedsheets beneath them, never once asking for more.
Natasha’s legs threatened to clamp closed at the memory and the physical sensations it brought. The feeling of Maria’s fingers sinking into the tender skin of her inner thighs only made her shudder that much harder, a pulsing between her legs redoubling. Whatever patience there had been before was now slipping through her fingers.
“You’re so desperate already, Tasha. You couldn’t even wait until after the bath, could you?”
“I missed you,” Natasha said, the words falling from parted lips, breathy and true, as much as she hadn’t meant to say them.
Maria’s lips pressed a kiss on her temple, a silent agreement that only fanned the fire. She’d say it later, when she’d rung out every last bit of pleasure out of Natasha’s body, until she’d trembled and cursed through it. She’d say it once Natasha was sleepy and dazed, and Maria got up only to come back with a wet towel to clean her up. She’d say it as she did every morning, with a warm pot of coffee left ready for her, a note reminding her of their dinner date that evening, signed with an X.
Then, her hands were gone, and a desperate sort of sound tore its way out of Natasha’s throat. Maria soothed her with a kiss that really only made it worse. She was nipping at a sensitive spot, right under Natasha’s jaw, and her ankles wrapped around Natasha’s legs, slipping under her bent legs to hold her still. It was a weak hold, something she could break in her sleep. Natasha held still anyway, and it earned her an approving hum from Maria, followed by the sound of a bottle cap being popped open.
“Maria,” Natasha said again, much closer to a whine than she cared to admit. Maria’s skin seemed to be everywhere, and she knew just where to kiss, where to hold her that little bit tighter.
“I haven’t even touched you yet,” Maria said, with a husk that would have made Natasha’s legs go weak if she were standing. It betrayed her conversational tone .
Weren’t they desperate for the closeness, Natasha knew Maria would make her wait. She’d done it one too many times, those when Natasha would let herself give in, get lost in the warmth of her. She’d mapped Natasha’s skin with clever hands, taken her in with those blue eyes of hers, turned almost black. Only once Natasha was writhing in the sheets, dripping wet and speechless and rendered incoherent, had Maria asked. She’d asked for a yes, a nod, a pleading word.
“Get on with it, then,” Natasha said with a smile fueled with bravado. Maria chuckled, the sound pooling low on Natasha’s belly.
“And if I don’t?” she asked.
It was a bluff, and they both knew it. Yet, between the sound of the bottle cap clicking shut and the sight of Maria spreading the glistening lube between her fingers, Natasha felt a desperate pulsing between her legs at the thought of her stopping.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Natasha said, voice once again raspy for an entirely different reason than before. She wet her lips, swallowed to clear her dry throat as Maria hummed in thought.
“Am I?”
Maria’s hands once again disappeared under water, and Natasha’s breath stalled in anticipation. Maria’s clean hand cradled one of her breasts, tweaking her nipple with a twist of clever fingers that sent a jolt of pleasure down her body. Natasha gasped, her anticipation only making the pleasure brighter.
“You always sound so sweet for me when you’re desperate,” Maria said, voice almost as wrecked as Natasha’s.
Before Natasha could even think of a response, slick fingers ran through her folds, spreading her open. Natasha’s hips bucked, and a groan fell from her lips. Neither of them could care less about the water sloshing, rising close to the edge of the tub with the movement of Natasha’s body. Maria’s fingers skated past her clit, spread the lube around all the while avoiding her most sensitive spots, and Natasha burned with it.
“So, I can get on with it, sure,” Maria said, her tone casual and movements intent on making her fall apart. “But I will take my time with you.”
“Fuck, Maria-“ Natasha groaned, head falling back as her hips angled up towards Maria’s fingers. It was of no use.
Maria pressed a smile against the side of her neck with a sweet kiss. Natasha reached back to tangle a hand with her hair, keeping her close. The other hung on to Maria’s forearm, feeling the flex of muscles as Maria touched her without providing any sort of relief.
“I bet you’d be soaked by now, dripping down my hand,” Maria’s hushed voice was slow, every word thought out to make Natasha writhe. “This is why I don’t like the bathtub, you know? I wanna taste you. I wanna see how desperate you can get for me.”
Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut at the almost physical memories brought back by her words, Maria’s head between her thighs, unrelenting and clever. Maria’s hands on her hips as Natasha rode her face, sounds as obscene as Natasha’s moans being muffled by a clenching of powerful thighs. Natasha’s legs thrown over her shoulders and Maria’s forearm flexing as she touched herself under pants she hadn’t bothered to take off.
“I need-“ Natasha tried to speak.
Two of Maria’s fingers stroked around Natasha’s clit, making her jolt before they went back to their incessant teasing. Natasha groaned, frustrated and pulsing with arousal that made her breath come short and her hips grind against fleeting fingers. The sound echoed against her neck as Maria’s other hand came down to dig into the inside of her thigh.
“Maria, please…”
“What do you need? Tell me,” Maria said, her kisses growing bolder, teeth scraping and body coiled around Natasha’s, cradling her closer still.
Natasha’s mouth fell open as she lost track of her thoughts for a moment. Another drag of Maria’s fingers, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her and offer no true relief, made Natasha gasp.
“More. I want more, Masha, please.”
Her words were losing their coherence, the water sloshing with the movement of her hips chasing after absent friction, a relief that she was being denied. The sound of them affected Maria just as much as the feel of Natasha, swollen and desperate under her fingertips. She gave in, starting a slow grind of her fingers on Natasha’s clit. The hand in her hair pulled as Natasha’s breath caught.
“Do you wanna come, Natasha? Do you want me to make you feel good? Spread you open with my fingers and make you take it until you can’t anymore?”
Natasha’s head spun at the thought. Her breath had returned, and now it was deep and labored, only getting faster with the knowledge that Maria would. The fingers on her clit were almost too much after too little, the lips on her neck so very Maria that she could just close her eyes and give herself up to the raw pleasure of it.
“Yes,” she managed through another gasp. “Don’t you dare stop.”
“I won’t,” Maria promised, the next swipe of her finger rougher before going back to a gentle grind. Natasha’s fingers dug into her forearm as her entire body jolted with it and Maria’s legs tensed between hers, keeping her spread open. “How about this? Next time, we’ll bring the strap. I’ll take a relaxing bath, and you will come in and fuck yourself, flex these beautiful thighs of yours and show me how much you need it. I might even bring a book.”
Maria’s words made her legs shake as she pulsed with the thought. She’d always had a way with words. Sometimes, Natasha hated how weak it made her at the knees, how vivid all the fantasies she painted were. Maria, relaxing in the bath after a day of work, and Natasha, so desperate that she would just climb on top and fuck herself, while Maria’s attention remained on the words of a page. She knew Maria could never concentrate like that, but for Natasha, she would pretend. She’d look up at her, red all down to her chest, and ask, with that steady voice of hers, ‘Are you done?’
“You wouldn’t,” Natasha said, feeling the last of her self-control slip through her fingers.
“Oh, yes, I would. Then, once you’ve had your share of riding me, we’ll get out of the bath.”
Maria’s voice painted the picture of her crooked smile, though Natasha couldn’t see it. So many possibilities, memories paired with fantasy and the feel of her body all around Natasha’s, wound her up tighter. Then, Maria’s fingers trailed lower, threatening to slip inside before trailing back up. Natasha whined, the sound high pitched at the back of her throat.
“Then it’ll be my turn. My rules,” Maria said, trailing off into a gasp as Natasha arched up, body coiled up.
“More. Maria-“
Two of her fingers slipped inside with slick ease, curling and stroking along her front wall. Natasha moaned, this time uncontrolled and rough, desperate with how close she was. Maria’s thumb settled into a grind against her clit, and that was all it took. Natasha’s toes curled, her body shuddered, and her legs clamped shut with a splash of water she barely felt. Maria stroked her through it until Natasha writhed, bordering on uncomfortable.
“Fuck, Masha, it’s too much, I…”
The thumb on her clit let up and still, Natasha gasped, because Maria was still fucking her with her fingers. Aftershocks wracked her body, and yet, she could feel herself winding up once again. Maria’s legs spread her open once again, her free hand stroking her breast. It was almost too much.
“Tell me to stop,” Maria said, a reminder that Natasha didn’t really need.
She merely gasped for air and shook her head, settling back down against her chest. Maria hummed as she licked along the tendon of her neck, tasting the clean sweat now underlining the smell of body wash. She much preferred it to roses.
“So, my rules…” Maria continued, “I’ll fuck another one out of you, because you know I love how you look on your knees, moaning my name and trying to stay quiet, biting into your fist. It never works, sweetheart.”
Natasha did just that, biting into the flesh of her fist for the sweet sting of it. Maria’s fingers curled harder inside of her at the sight, and Natasha moaned. The sound wasn’t muffled enough, and the sting of Maria’s teeth at her collarbone made it clear she approved. Despite everything, Maria wasn’t distracted. She kept talking, like that wouldn’t be enough some days to send Natasha over the edge.
“When I’m done, I’ll make you ride my face until you can’t hold yourself up anymore, until it runs down your thighs and we have to take another shower before bed, because you’ve soaked my entire face.”
Natasha could only nod, pulsing with the thought. A third finger slipped inside of her, easy with how wound up she was, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. It stretched her open even as Maria kept up the same steady rhythm.
“You look so beautiful, all flushed and disheveled, lying on the bed and half sleeping, but staying awake for me. And because you wind me up,” Maria’s hips bucked, and she ground forward, as if to prove a point. Her second hand coming down to stroke her clit once again, teasing and fleeting, “I’ll make you watch when I sort myself out. This time, you’ll be the one hanging onto the headboard.”
“I wanna see you,” Natasha gasped, the words pushed forth by the knowledge that Maria must be as worked up as she is, untouched and spewing filth in her ear. “Wanna see you come for me. With me.”
“Yeah,” Maria said, half question, half statement.
Her eloquence seemed to have forsaken her, and Natasha’s brain stalled as she tried to think through her arousal. There was only one hand on her. Natasha pressed back and felt Maria’s other hand against the small of her back, moving in time with the one fucking her. Natasha moaned, and Maria echoed it against the crook of her neck.
“Holy shit,” she cursed, feeling on the very edge at the mere thought of what Maria was doing. “Maria- Masha, don’t stop.”
One of Natasha’s hands held her close by the back of the neck as she tilted her head, taking in the pretty flush on her cheeks, the gone look in her eyes. The other played with her own breast, enjoying the way it made Maria’s touch that much more desperate.
“Are you close, Tasha? Are you gonna come again?”
“Yes. Oh, Maria, right there,” Natasha gasped as Maria’s fingers curled once again and the palm of her hand brushed against her still sensitive clit. She repeated the motion once, then a second time. The third time was too much—Natasha moaned, body arching, thighs trapping Maria’s still-moving fingers right inside of her. They seized as Maria gasped, broken and quiet. Natasha’s hips bucked, even as her eyes opened to take in the furrow of her brow, the blush and glistening lips.
“Natasha,” she said, voice cracking and overrun with feelings.
Natasha couldn’t wait anymore. She sat up and turned around, settling her knees around Maria’s hips so she could sit on her lap. They shared a dazed look before Natasha cupped her face and kissed her, deep and slow with the exhaustion now catching up to her.
They parted after a few seconds, just to breathe. Maria’s eyes roamed over her face.
“Hi,” Natasha said once again.
Maria smiled.
“Hi,” she answered.
Her hands settled on Natasha’s hips. Then, she leaned up to kiss her again, a sweet peck like she just couldn’t help herself. When she broke it, Natasha chased after her. So, they kissed until a shiver made the skin on Natasha’s arms prickle. Maria’s warm hands ran down her forearms a second before she pulled back.
“The water’s getting cold. Let’s go,” Maria said.
Natasha grumbled, but complied. As the water drained away, they dried both themselves and the floor with towels, turned off the forgotten music. Soon enough, they were stumbling through the bedroom doorway and falling into the bed together. A disgruntled meow made Natasha laugh as Liho looked at them and flicked her tail, annoyed at being woken up.
“She’s spoiled,” Maria said.
“And whose fault is that?”
Neither of them answered, but they shared a knowing smile.
That night, Natasha fell asleep with a purring cat at her feet and the hand of the woman she loved resting on her hip.