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“Steve--it was a few drinks!” Natasha snarled as she slammed the door behind her, feeling the whole house shake with the force of it. It was nothing in comparison to what was coming later if he didn’t turn around to look at her. “Nothing else happened--we went out to the bar, drank, talked, and I came home later. I always come home to you, but maybe you’ve forgotten that! Jesus!” She reached out to grab his shoulder, to twist him around and force him to confront her, to listen to what the hell she was saying. “Why can’t you get that through your stupid super-soldier skull?”
“Because I know men like that, Natasha,” Steve finally snarled, though he never turned around to actually look at her, each step of his purposeful as it strode through the brownstone they’d been paying rent together on for the past few months. It was where they went when they didn’t want to be interrupted, and now was the epitome of that time. “I’ve dealt with them before, know how they talk and it’s never just a few drinks. I don’t care what he says.”
He was heading to their bedroom, his every step thudding loudly on the hardwood floor, barely masking the scoff that came out of Natasha’s mouth.
“Please. What the hell would you know about guys like that? That don’t act like perfect fucking gentlemen? You’re nothing like that Steve and why can’t you see that’s why I come back to you? I’m not sleeping around so stop acting like I’m some whore!”
“You sure don’t seem to have an issue acting like one. Where the hell were you after you left the bar? You didn’t come home right after?” He’d stopped, causing her to nearly run into his chest, her eyes widening for the briefest of seconds before her face went stoic. She only hoped that he couldn’t hear the sudden quickening of her heart, even though it drowned out everything else.
“What’re you--.”
“Don’t play me like that, Tasha.” His voice turned into a low growl, eyes narrowing as he caught her chin in his fingers and turned it up when she tried to look away. “Look at me when you answer: where. Did you go. After the bar?”
“I didn’t.”
This snarl twisted his face as he released her and stormed away, past the door to their room and into their closet, Natasha hot on his heels as she felt the blood leave her face in a rush. “Steve what’re you doing?”
“You insist to act like a woman of ill-repute you’d better learn to dress like it,” he growled, ripping through her things on their hangers, throwing some onto the ground as he pushed through them. She watched, breath bated and hands fisted at her sides, as he stopped at a short red number she didn’t often wear, certainly never with him. It was one of a time that she’d long since gotten over and tried to hide behind her, tried to undo and make up for. Apparently not. Strapless, skin-tight, and with a slit up the already short backend it hardly left a thing to the imagination.
And it also confirmed that Steve had learned a thing or two from their recent viewing of Gone with the Wind. Natasha’s chin tilted upwards as he thrust it at her, his eyes burning into hers so fiercely that she wanted to scream at him to never look at her again, especially not like that, not with his disappointment and anger so close to the surface.
“Get dressed. We’re going out,” he threatened, his jaw in a hard line before he moved away, turning the shower on and stripping so he could step into it. Before he disappeared into the already steaming water he looked back at her, still standing there with the thin red dress in her hands. “And don’t forget to wear lots of rouge with it. You’ll want to look the part.”
His arm was tight around her waist as he led her into the restaurant, all eyes on the pair of them. No, all eyes on Natasha. The dress fit her like a glove, clinging to her chest, still heaving from when she’d yelled at him not five minutes ago, and complimenting her sculpted backside. She’d plastered a smile on her red, red lips, teeth white in direct comparison to the rich color, matching the high red of her cheeks and the ruby drop earrings. She was a vision, Steve knew, and he held onto her tighter for that. To her credit she kept her chin up the whole while, never once shirking from the attention they both knew the dress would’ve gotten her, and when Steve pulled out her chair for her (he might’ve been angry with her but he still was a damn gentleman) she shot him a grin that could’ve doubled for a snarl. He gave her a tight lipped smile of his own before taking a seat opposite her.
“What’re you in the mood for tonight?” She asked, voice perhaps a little higher and laced with the fakest smile he’d ever heard. “Something thick and traditional? That never changes?”
“Certainly nothing that could be considered a tart,” he shot back, watching as she stifled a laugh. Hey, she’d started it, and it didn’t make it any less true as he glowered over at her. The waiter seemed to pick up on the animosity and tense atmosphere between them, practically squeaking in fear as Natasha’s gaze turned absolutely predatory towards him, leaning forward slightly so he got a better look at her cleavage than most were allowed. Steve’s hands cracked the edges of the table from gripping it so hard.
“Do you want him dead?” Steve asked, one eyebrow rising as he leaned back in his seat and held tight onto his knees, thinking at least if he cracked his own kneecaps it was better than the waiter’s skull.
“No, I want my boyfriend to stop being such an asshole.” She said, tipping her head so that one of her perfectly formed curls spilled onto her pale shoulder, lips spread in a gaudy smile before she took a deep sip of her wine. “Or is he to be replaced with the sort of gentleman I had drinks with? Fitting, don’t you think?”
It was a miracle his teeth hadn’t cracked from the pressure he was putting on them, doing his best not to say something he would regret, no matter how mad she was making him.
“This is a punishment, Natasha. Not a chance for you to get lippy.”
“Wouldn’t you love to see how lippy I can get?” She snarked right back, folding her arms over her chest, just under her breasts so that they practically spilled out of her top, one eyebrow cocked and the smallest of smirks twisting her lips. He could practically feel the tension and attention in the room as it rocketed.
They weren’t going to get through the first course at this rate.
They made it halfway through the second before he finally stood up, having had enough of the way Natasha was licking some of alfredo sauce from her fingertips, tongue poking out of her mouth before she wrapped it around her finger. He’d actually stood up at that point, ripping his wallet out of his back pocket, throwing the money and a generous tip on the table, before eyeing her.
“We’re going.” His voice offered no alternative.
“Whatever you say, sir,” she forced the last word out, standing gracefully and smoothing off the edges of her dress before she sauntered out of the room. His hand found hers and held on, tight, all but forcing her out of the restaurant as quickly as he could manage without looking as though he was forcing her. To her credit, she played it up with a playful smile and a squeeze of his hand.
So much for a punishment.
The dress went to pieces with the loveliest of rips, falling to the ground at her feet as her panties came off with a loud snap as the elastic holding it together broke.
“I liked those,” she growled, her fist hitting his chest before he pushed her backwards and onto the bed with a soft ‘oof.’
“I don’t care,” he growled, quickly divesting himself of the tie and the button down. Natasha laid back on the bed, teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. He wanted to do that, and in his haste to join her on the bed he ripped the buttons of his shirt clean off, throwing the now useless material onto the floor. Oh well. His pants were shucked just as swiftly and fell to the ground, all the while Natasha stared and panted just in front of him, the perfect picture of lust and wanton desire.
“You’re mine, you get that?” He demanded, getting on his knees on the bed in front of her and crawling closer. Taking both of her hands in one of his he pressed them above her head. “Keep them there. Or else.”
While she gave him a look that questioned his ability to maintain any sort of sanity, he just growled and leaned down to crush his lips hard to hers, biting hard enough to nearly draw blood from her bottom lip. She moaned and arched her back beneath him, but as instructed her arms didn’t move. Even as he ripped the bra from off of her, the red, strapless lace undergarment flung hard against the wall, she just chuckled and bucked her hips against hers, wrapping her legs around his waist. His cock, hard and leaking with his excitement, strained against the confines of his boxers, desperately seeking the heat of her pussy out. All in good time, he reminded himself, pulling away from her mouth to look down at her, perched high above on his knees. Her lips pouted slightly, her lipstick smeared in a practically pornographic way, the color high in her cheeks even without the help of the blush she’d worn at his request.
“Are you going to look at me or fuck me?” she demanded. “Because if not--”
One hand pressed hard against her mouth. “You talk too much.” He said as he reached above her, fingers gripping the soft edges of a scarf they’d used the last time they were at their apartment, and swiftly he stretched it between her lips and around her head, tying it into a makeshift gag, ignoring her stifled, indignant mutters. With her mouth occupied and her hands still staying in place where he put them he pushed his boxers down and kicked them off his ankles. One hand of his disappeared between her legs and a groan left his mouth. He loved how wet she got simply from him ordering her around.
“I thought I’d made it damn clear that you.” He pressed one finger into her. “Are.” Another. “Mine? Apparently I’ll have to try harder to make sure you get the message.” He added a third finger as she started to whine and buck against his intrusion, just wet enough to accomidate all three as he started to pump his fingers in and out of her as fast as he could. He wanted to make her come, and he was going to do it as quickly, and brutally, as he had to.
“Your ass, your pussy, your breasts, mouth--it’s all mine. All of it. No one can take you away from me because you. Belong. To me. Got it, Natasha?” He demanded, voice ragged with desire as he worked her harder and harder, not content until she started moaning, tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes, make-up running. His heart twinged for half a second, but when his free hand caught her chin and forced her to look at him he saw nothing but desire staring back at him. Besides, she knew that if she was really uncomfortable with something she had every right to break his requests.
He hoped.
That couldn’t stop him, not then at least, not when there was a lesson he was trying to get across to her. “I need to be able to trust you, kitten. How can I do that if you don’t tell me everything?” He demanded, thumb slick from the juices running down his hand, slick enough that he could start to press it to her asshole. She whimpered and clamped down on the slick digit, but he growled for her to relax. “It’s going in one way or the other,” he ordered. “Relax. Now.”
Slowly, the thick, short finger slid in centimeter by centimeter, and she moaned once he started fucking her even harder, not resting his hand until he felt her clench around him and her voice broke with pleasure.
“Now you’re being good for me, are you? Hoping it’ll spare you? You’re getting a good, hard fucking one way or another, kitten, and not even your tears and your good manners can save you from that. I’m gonna split you open,” he half threatened, taking his come-soaked hand and stroking himself with it, adding to the pre-come already dripping down his length. “And you’re going to love every second of it. Calm down kitten. Breathe. Relax, or this is going to hurt.”
That was all the warning he gave her before he sank his dick into her, not stopping until he bottomed out and his head fell back with the lurid, perfect feel of it. Natasha, too, was writhing beneath him, body trembling and legs locking around his waist once more, holding him even closer. He allowed himself a grin as he looked back down. “That’s my good girl. Now hold on.”
Brutal wasn’t a good enough word to describe how he went about that night, he thought, as his hips pistoned into her harder and harder each time, the tip of his cock jolting against her g-spot so that her every other breath caught in her throat, cheeks flushed from the excitement. He’d removed the gag from her mouth, wanting to hear her call out his name, and every syllable felt like a prayer, a cry for help that only Steve could give her. As he worked into her, harder every time, his hands found her hips and started pulling her back onto his cock, meeting his every thrust so that when they collided he felt her entire body shake. All the while she called out his name, begged him to speed up, go harder. Mark her. He’d sank his teeth into her collar at that request, all too happy to comply as he sucked at her soft skin, trailing his teeth and cutting them on her collarbone, then finally taking her breasts into his mouth in turn to flick the nipples with his tongue and mark up the rest of her body. No man would ever touch her again, not with such blatant ownership practically written all over her.
It was nearly painful how quickly they both came, Natasha shouting herself hoarse as Steve lost all finesse and technique, simply pounding away at her while her pussy milked him for all he was worth, so tight and hot around him he thought he might never get out alive. His arms on either side of her shoulders were the only things keeping him from collapsing on her, but despite how hard she was breathing, how hoarse she’d already become, and the purpling bruises his teeth and mouth had left behind they were far from done.
“I told you I was going to split you open,” he reminded her, pulling out from her and giving himself a minute to catch his breath before he turned her over onto her front. At the sight of her perfectly rounded pale ass in front of him he felt himself hardening again, more than happy to go for a second round. “I hope you’re good and loose Natasha. You’re in for a hell of a night.”
Three days later she brought in the man she’d had drinks with to SHIELD, his arms cuffed behind his back, right eye sporting an already blackening bruise. Steve caught sight of him as his girlfriend marched him past the small office he’d been given to look over documents and contracts, to do paperwork for Coulson and practice his sketching when he needed some peace and quiet. His heart plummeted at the sight and he felt his breath catch.
It was--he was a mark?
Why hadn’t she told him?
He gave her an hour to finish up bringing the man around into full custody of SHIELD, to finish up the report, before finally confronting her. The look on his face couldn’t have been more contrite if he’d tried, though Nat didn’t even bother rising from her seat as he stepped through her door.
“So.”
“So,” Steve repeated lamely, looking down for half a minute before forcing himself to look up. He’d made her bear her false shame, and so he’d have to do the same. “I guess it’s a little late to tell you I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no I always love hearing that, just about as much as I love getting called a woman of ill-repute.” Her sarcasm made him wince, guilt rising in his gut. He watched her rise slowly from her seat and slink towards him, one hand pressed against his chest as she looked up at him, guiding him backwards until he was sitting. “When will you learn to trust me? That’s what all this BDSM, kinky-fuckery is supposed to be about. Trust, Steve. Get that through your thick skull.” She rapped her knuckles on his head, all in good fun if her small smile was to be believed, though it didn’t help his heart from sinking further.
“I’m sorry, Tasha,” he said quietly, looking up to her and taking her hands in his, pressing his lips slowly to the back of her hands in turn.
Her soft laugh vibrated between the pair of them, a reminder that she was so much less petty than he was. How pathetic was that? “Don’t worry. You’ll make it up to me,” she promised with a flash of a smile. “But so help me, Steve. I dare you to second guess my affection for you again, see if I don’t leave you to prove a point.”
He shuddered and shook his head, resting his head against her collarbone, where his marks still were still fading.
One hand hastened to open the door while his other held Nat propped up against him, her legs just above his hips, lips clashing with his as he let her take control and search every corner of his mouth, gyrating her hips against his, desperate for friction between the pair of them. “I love you,” he whispered when she broke away for air, his brain finally remembering how a doorknob worked long enough to get them through the door to her room. She chuckled and repeated the sentiment, bringing her lips down to his ear, nibbling the soft flesh as he moaned and walked her over to her black satin-covered bed, laying her down on it. With reverent fingers he started peeling her blouse off, fingers carefully undoing each button as his lips kissed each inch of newly revealed skin, his constant contact with her only broken by his murmurings of how sweet she was, how good she was to him, how beautful and perfect.
“Steve you’re making me blush, and I just want you inside me,” she moaned, carding one hand through his hair before pulling him roughly up by his blond locks. He couldn’t help the goofy grin.
“I told you I’d make it up to you.” He kissed her left hip, nipping at the soft flesh, before repeating the process on the other side to Natasha’s delight. “Please let me make it up to you?”
“Ohh, asking permission from a whore?”
“Natasha,” he murmured. He was really trying.
Her laugh was forgiving, however, and she didn’t say another word of protest as he took his time, worshipping each inch of her perfectly toned body, from her calves which he kissed his way down, to the apex of her thighs, where he buried his face until she writhed beneath him and screamed as her climax overtook her.
“Okay, Steve. Please,” she begged, a sign of sincerity. She never resorted to it unless she absolutely needed something, and only--. He swallowed hard. Only to those she trusted. Implicitly. She would never show such a weakness to anyone else. Heart surging in his chest, he murmured his assent against her thigh and quickly removed his own clothing, having been too focused on her pleasure to think of his own need. Besides, the friction of his jeans against his aching dick had been somewhere between a blessing and a curse, a fine line he had no problem walking for his own penance.
Slick from her own arousal and Steve’s saliva, he had no problem sinking himself fully into Nat, seating himself fully into her so that she whimpered and moaned beneath him. “I want on top,” she managed to gasp, eyes flying open as she stared up at him. He nodded, flipping them around without so much as an issue. What his girl wanted she got, and there was no way he was going to control as she raised herself onto her haunches and started bouncing up and down off of him. This control, the final say over how much pleasure he got, wasn’t something he often gave her, and he knew she relished the power more than she’d ever let on. He was confident enough to think that she loved it when he took control, but when he actually gave it up to her? Well, judging from the moans pouring from her lips there was hardly anything better. He took her full breasts in his hands, palming them and releasing them only to replace them with his mouth, softer and gentler as he made her whimper and pant above him, riding him harder as he applied the softest of pressures to her sensitive skin.
“Steve--please. Need you to--.” She gasped, head thrown back and hands finding his shoulders, using him as leverage before he could fit his hands over the old bruises he’d left not that long ago and gently raised and lowered her onto his cock, impaling her with the surety and slick momentum of a machine, hips occasionally rising to meet her perfect heat.
“Tash--I love you,” he moaned as he pulled away from teasing her breasts, lips swollen as he looked up at her. Her head snapped up, eyes lidded, and lips pulling back in a half-delirious smile as she nodded.
“Love you too--God. Steve, I’m gonna--.”
“That’s it babe. Come for me, please,” he moaned. “Wanna make you feel so good.”
She choked on her orgasm, the pleasure wrung from every pore on her body, every fiber of it twitching and tightening and convulsing as he helped her ride it out, taking control once more to help her come even further undone, and as she did she pulled Steve along with her, forcing him to pump into her and fill her to the brim. “So perfect, babe,” he praised through gasps for air. “You’re so perfect. So good to me. Love you so much.”
He tucked her into bed not half an hour later, having wiped her down with a soft wash rag, the water warm as he’d mopped up the mess between her legs and his own before eventually throwing it into the dirty laundry. As he crawled into bed beside her, one arm wrapped gently around her waist, she murmured: “I don’t hate you, you know. Or even blame you. I know I don’t have the cleanest background--.”
“Tasha. Shhh,” he turned her neck slightly and met her lips halfway, silencing her with his lips, trying to prove to her just how wrong that was. “I was an idiot. Thank you for forgiving me.”
“‘Course, Steve. I love you.” The following lazy smile made his cheeks flush a little, and even better than that was the warm sensation settling in the pit of his stomach when she turned and returned his embrace, arms around his neck to hold him just as close to her.
“But you do it again, seriously, not play acting, and I’ll kick your ass, I swear.”
He chuckled and nodded. Consider himself warned.