When Kate’s phone rings, the number comes up with the contact name Yelena Belova and a selfie of Yelena holding up a peace sign.
“Yelena?” Kate asks, picking up the call.
“Kate Bishop!” says Yelena. “I’m in your city, come get a drink with me.”
“How’d your number get in my phone?” Kate asks, holding it away from her ear to look at the screen again. “When did you even take that picture?”
“Oh, you know,” Yelena says. Kate does not know. “So how about it? Seven o’clock? Rinaldi’s on 5th?”
“That place is really expensive,” Kate says, still catching up with everything that’s happened in the last thirty seconds.
“You think I don’t know how to show a girl a nice time? I’m a very good date, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says, reproving.
“Stop saying my full name,” Kate says, though she likes it. “A date?”
“Yes,” Yelena says. “I will see you there at seven, then.”
At a loss, Kate finally says, “Okay.”
“Excellent.” Yelena hangs up.
Kate stares at the phone. What is she even going to wear?
It has admittedly been a minute since Kate’s been on a date, or lured into a trap, or whatever this is. She decides to wear a dress: low cut, black, Fendi. Skirt hem fluttering around her knees with enough fabric to cover the knife she has tucked into a thigh sheath. Kate loves her bow and arrows, truly, but they go with very few date outfits.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she says in greeting to Yelena when she arrives at the restaurant where Yelena is sitting at a table for two next to the window. Yelena’s in white, her dress backless, lips red. “You look great,” Kate adds, because Yelena actually looks so hot that it seems almost gauche not to comment on it.
“So do you,” Yelena says, looking Kate in the eye as she takes Kate’s hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Kate swallows, taking her hand back with difficulty when Yelena releases it. “Thanks for coming on a date with me, Kate Bishop.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.” Kate settles into her seat and grabs the menu as an excuse to look away from Yelena’s radiant sultriness.
“Hawkeeeeeye,” Yelena says, drawing the word out. “Is that better?”
“It is not.” Kate scans the cocktail menu. If this is a trap, she’s going to be tipsy for it. If this is really a date, she’s going to be super tipsy for it. She risks a look at Yelena again, pronouncing it clearly when she says, “Yelena Belova.”
“Ooh, say it again,” Yelena says.
Kate’s been busy, sure, but not so busy that it should feel like a hundred years since she’s been flirted with. But that is how it feels. “No,” Kate says, feeling her cheeks color as she stares back down at the cocktail list. “I think I’m going to get the Violet Hour. Or the Strawberry Sunrise, I can’t decide.”
“Get both, darling.” Yelena looks extremely sure of herself, settling back into the high wicker-backed chair. A few tendrils of hair have escaped from her circlet braids, framing her face quite fetchingly. “You prefer that?”
“Yes,” Kate mutters.
The waiter’s arrival saves her from dying of embarrassed arousal. They order their drinks.
“How’s training going?” Yelena asks, tearing herself off a piece of bread from the bowl between them and dipping it in the shallow dish of olive oil. The image fits in disturbingly well with the fantasies Kate’s entertained over the last couple of months about her. She’s thought more than once about how things might have gone if they’d stopped fighting and gone out for drinks last time. She’s also thought about if they’d kept fighting but then eventually started making out. Kate’s fantasies have always been simple but effective.
“Really well,” Kate says, watching her eat the bread. This date/trap/ruse is, if nothing else, making it abundantly clear that Kate needs to get laid. “How’s it going with whatever your job is?”
“Just finishing up an assignment, then I’m going to take some time off. Spend a little while in the city, have some fun. You want to show me around?”
“Yes.” For instance, Kate could show Yelena her bedroom. Their drinks arrive, and Yelena raises her tundra-dry martini and clinks it against Kate’s cocktail, which is so very purple. Kate genuinely hopes that Yelena doesn’t think she did that on purpose. “Cheers. So what’s your assignment?”
“I’ve been tracking down all of you potential Avenger types,” Yelena says. “Sam Wilson’s trying to put together a new team apparently. His new costume is so gaudy.” She flutters her fingers in the air, approximating wings. “Oooh, I’m Captain America,” she says in a bad American accent. “Our flag is red, white, and blue. Patriotism. Borders are real and countries have meaning.”
Kate stares at her. In Kate’s purse, her phone starts to vibrate.
“That’s probably him,” Yelena says. “You can take it, I don’t mind.” She takes a sip of her martini, simultaneously giving James Bond, Bond girl, and Bond villain.
“Hi, Kate. It’s Sam Wilson,” Sam Wilson says on the phone. “Clint gave me your number, I hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Kate says. “Yeah, that’s totally fine. What’s, uh. What’s up?”
“You wanna be an Avenger? Clint says the mantle’s yours now, you’re our new Hawkeye. It sounds like you’d be a great asset to the team.”
Across the table, Yelena mouths, “See? Go Avengers!” She mimes a fairly convincing superhero pose, fists out, face stern.
“Yes, I totally want that. For sure,” Kate says. “How do I…do that?”
Sam laughs. “I’ll be in New York in a couple of weeks, meeting with everyone about getting the team together. I’ll send you the details. Looking forward to meeting you, Clint’s said great things.”
“Aw,” Kate says, taken a little off guard. She knew that she and Clint were bros for life by now, but still, aw. “Okay, that sounds good. Looking forward to meeting you too, Sam.” Wow, it is an incredible effort to not call him Captain America.
Yelena’s already on her own phone by the time Kate hangs up, so Kate just watches as she says, “Yeah, Bishop agreed too. The meeting’s in New York in a few weeks. That’s everybody. Probably at the Stark offices, since Potts is still involved. That’s everything I know, Val.” Yelena looks at Kate, rolling her eyes like bosses, am I right? “Yes, I can hear Walker saying to tell me hello. Don’t tell him I said hello back, I hate that guy. I’m on a date, I have to go.”
She hangs up. Kate stares at her, then drains her cocktail.
“Ugh,” Yelena says, tucking her phone back into her bag. “Enough about work. Are there any good places around here to go dancing?”
“Oh my god,” Kate says. “That’s what this was about, you just wanted to find out if I was going to join the Avengers or not? That’s literally what your assignment was, just dating every possible future Avenger?”
“Not dating,” Yelena says, shrugging. “Mostly just manufacturing reasons to run into all of them. Some spying, you know, the usual. I went out and did karaoke with a couple in San Francisco, I thought we might all fall into bed together at the end of the night but then I don’t think they even slept with each other.” She frowns as if this offends her still. “You would like the girl I think, she’s an archer too. Very pretty.”
“Are you trying to set me up with another future Avenger you also went on a fake threesome date with, while still on a fake date with me?” Kate asks. “This is somehow worse than dating apps. I can’t believe you just Black Widowed me.”
“RIP,” says the waiter, having arrived at the table in time to hear that. With a sorrowful tilt of his head, he asks, “Would you two like another round?”
“Yes,” says Yelena.
“No,” says Kate.
“We would,” Yelena says. “I’ll have another martini, and my date here would love the Strawberry Sunrise.”
“I’m not her real date,” Kate tells the waiter, who now appears filled with longing for the interaction to be over. “But fine, I did want to try the Strawberry Sunrise.” The waiter gratefully nods and scurries away. “You’re paying,” she says to Yelena.
“Of course, I’m expensing it to my employer,” Yelena says.
“Then I’m also getting dessert.”
“Good, a woman like you deserves to indulge.” Yelena gives her a look over so intent and hungry that Kate wonders if Black Widows have secret X-ray vision or something. Her nipples perk up under her dress like Yelena can see them and they’re saying hello. “I saved you for last, you know. I really do want to get to know you better.”
“As if you haven’t already researched everything there is to know about my life.”
“There’s always more to know.” New drinks are delivered to their table by the waiter, who vanishes back into the crowd like a silent stagehand having delivered a forgotten prop. Yelena picks hers up and takes a slow sip, her eyes on Kate.
“You’re Black Widowing me again, don’t think I’m not aware of that. Now, anyway,” Kate mutters, shifting uncomfortably in her chair because the rest of her erogenous zones have also remembered that Yelena is ridiculously hot, and strong, and fun to take in a fight for many reasons including all the touching.
“Don’t be angry, darling,” Yelena says.
Kate is angry, and the Strawberry Sunrise isn’t as good as the first cocktail. She drinks it anyway, letting herself pretend the flush she feels is gin or rage or humiliation. “I should have known you had an ulterior motive. Are we even on the same side? Am I sleeping with the enemy here?”
Yelena’s eyes go dark at that, and without any audible movement Kate suddenly feels a pointed heel nudging her legs apart, Yelena’s cool fingertips on her knee. Her breath catches in her throat and stays there as Yelena’s fingers trail up, up, cupping the top of her thigh, thumb stroking the inside, two fingers pausing as they reach the base of the knife sheath. “I don’t know, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says, feeling over the sheath’s leather edge, exploring the black garter holding it in place. “Are you?”
“Fuck,” Kate says.
Yelena’s rough but Kate can take it; when Yelena practically slams her against the wall of her apartment foyer she just gets her hands in the white silk of Yelena’s bodice and drags her into another kiss.
Everything about Yelena is hot, her skin overheated in comparison to the cold plaster at Kate’s back, the marble floor beneath her bare feet after she’s kicked off her heels. Though it wasn’t immediately apparent that Yelena’s jacked as hell Kate can feel the defined muscles of her back, her shoulders as she touches as much as she can, and she’s beyond ready to be at the mercy of all that strength. Kate’s always been pretty switchy at the end of the day, content to go with whatever her few girlfriends have been into, but goddamn, she wants Yelena to fucking rail her.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I first saw you,” Yelena says in her ear, sliding her teeth down Kate’s jaw and then biting her throat hard enough to make Kate moan very loudly. “Seriously,” she says, gripping Kate’s waist and then, oh god, lifting her up enough to twirl them around and set Kate’s ass down on the antique rosewood table in the middle of the entrance hall. She pushes Kate’s legs apart, then slides her hands up Kate’s thighs, pushing her dress up as she goes. “I called my boss afterward, I said, is Kate Bishop a lesbian? Or does she like women? My boss says she thinks so, then she asks if I’m a lesbian, can you believe it?”
“That’s so illegal,” Kate says, absolutely not as invested in this conversation as she is in the way Yelena’s stroking her inner thighs. “Though I don’t know if those same laws apply, you know, um, in your line of work.”
Yelena shakes her head, like she’s still disappointed in her boss for having the nerve. “It’s totally illegal,” she says, then drags her thumb right up the center of Kate’s lace underpants, feeling how wet she is through them, and presses firmly against Kate’s clit.
Kate barely avoids shrieking; instead she just goes weak, her elbows thudding against the tabletop as she falls backward onto it. “Is this bad?” Kate asks the apartment ceiling. “Should we not be doing this, if I’m going to be an Avenger?”
“No, it’s okay,” Yelena says, rubbing thoughtfully over Kate’s clit in a slow, torturous circle. “You can be an Avenger and a lesbian. Where’s your bedroom?”
Kate groans, nudging Yelena away at great cost to her desperately approaching orgasm. Yelena takes Kate’s hand and lets Kate lead her to the bedroom, which unfortunately makes Kate feel briefly all girlfriend-y about the situation, despite the situation not being particularly hospitable to a future normal relationship. To forestall any further feelings of substance, once they’re in her room Kate spins Yelena around and goes for the zipper at the back of her dress, drawing it down over her ass as Yelena looks back at her over her shoulder, eyes dark.
“Oh wow, nice knives,” Kate says as the dress slips down Yelena’s body, leaving her bare except for plain white cotton underpants that are so utilitarian they’ve circled back around to sexy, and also three knives of varying lengths strapped to her hips and thighs. “How many times were you planning on stabbing me?”
“As many times as you planned to stab me,” Yelena says, reaching back to trace her fingers over the sheath at Kate’s thigh, which Kate realizes is empty only when Yelena wiggles her own knife at her all ooh, look what I got.
“Literally when did you even grab that?” Kate asks.
Yelena grins at her, setting the knife down on Kate’s bedside table and then divesting herself of her own weaponry. “You didn’t notice,” she says, “I guess I’m just too—”
“Don’t say disarming,” Kate tells her, though it comes out breathless because she’s ridiculously turned on. “Don’t be that quippy villain.”
“I know, it’s so cliché, right?” Yelena says, turning back to Kate once she’s completely naked. “I guess I’ll just have to tell you to get your dress off instead.”
Kate’s already on it, her fingers clumsy so Yelena has to help her guide the dress and her panties down her body to pool at her feet, nimbly unhooking her thigh holster. “On your back, come on,” Yelena says, but she’s impatient then too, pushy and manhandling Kate into the position that she wants her in. Kate just lets it happen, barely getting a moment to gaze up at Yelena before Yelena’s mouth is on hers again, hot and insistent.
Kate gives it back as good as she’s getting it, arching up to feel all of Yelena against her, hooking a leg around Yelena’s thigh so their cunts bang together, a clit-on-clit collision that has Kate yelling. The scratch and tangle of their pubic hair is primally pleasant, an invitation for Kate’s curious fingertips that only pause their journey downward when Yelena nudges Kate’s legs open wider and says, “Oh, you want to get fucked, do you?”
“Yes,” Kate says, going a little wide-eyed, curious and encouraging (had they not been fucking before?), obliging when Yelena palms her ass and drags her hips up before giving Kate a charmingly roguish grin and slamming her own hips down.
“Oh my god,” Kate says to any god listening, bucking her hips up when Yelena does it again. The blunt force of it shocks pleasure out of parts of her that she wasn’t quite aware could work like that, each hit on her pubic bone felt in her whole cunt, lighting up her clit with nerves thrumming up through her like the vibrating twang of a released bow. All she can do is swear and say Yelena’s name as she’s pounded, fucked through her own mattress.
The friction changes as they both get wetter, Kate grinding up into it so their cunts catch and slide before Yelena’s hips disappear and then come back down hard enough to shake them both. Kate’s a trembling mess already, wound up so tight that when Yelena says, “Darling,” in her Russian accent, made even rougher by lust, Kate’s orgasm hits her like thunder and lighting cracking the sky open together.
Yelena’s looking at her with a feral smile when Kate comes back to herself, and though the triumph there does it for Kate in a maybe she’s more submissive than she thought sort of way, it does make her want to fuck Yelena up the way Kate just got fucked up herself. So she rejoins the party, shoving her hips up again so they crash into each other, Yelena crying out as her braced arms falter. “Yelena,” Kate says, husky, and bites Yelena’s lower lip, fucks up against her until Yelena cries out and comes.
The moment of rest after Yelena rolls off of her and lies down, breathing hard, lets Kate really devote herself to feeling each tingling inch of her body. Not that Kate’s really made her way down the Lesbian Sex Acts checklist but that particular move is a new one to her. She would have thought that getting bruised and getting off would be at opposite ends of the feelings spectrum, but she’s pleased to find out that somehow those two sensations can be experienced at the same time in all their bone-deep intensity.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Yelena asks. She slides a hand down her own body, patting over her cunt like she’s comforting it.
“Nah,” Kate says. At least not in a way she didn’t like. If anything the feeling brings to mind the enjoyable soreness of a good workout. “Why, did you change your mind about stabbing me?”
“Yes.” Yelena sits back up, looking like forty-five seconds of lying prone has revitalized her completely. “I decided to do it with my tongue.”
“Okay,” Kate says, trying not to look too heart-eyes at the feisty ex-assassin she probably shouldn’t be fucking and definitely should not be looking all heart-eyes at. Yelena clambers over her and grabs another kiss, winding her fingers in Kate’s hair in a way that makes Kate want to undo Yelena’s braids so she can really get a grip on her too.
Tomorrow, maybe, because Yelena’s already pulling away too quickly, switching her attention to Kate’s breasts like her latest assignment is to appreciate them with the same dedication that she applies to whatever her weird job is. She feels Kate up, hands cupping the curve of each breast, thumbing over her nipples before lowering her head to get a taste. Her approach here is softer, wet tongue and a little sucking, enough to make them harden in her mouth and between her fingers. The feeling goes straight to Kate’s clit, the rush of desire entwining with the sore lingering heat of being pounded so hard and getting her even wetter.
She’s helpless to it all now, her hips rolling up seeking anything to rub against. Her clit bumps Yelena’s hipbone and it makes Yelena laugh against the curve of her breast, a self-satisfied little sound. That’s fine, it’s fine, Yelena can be smug about how bad Kate wants her so long as she doesn’t stop, so long as she keeps moving downward.
“You want more, huh?” Yelena asks, kissing down Kate’s stomach, stopping right above where her hair curls dark. She brushes her thumb over the crease of Kate’s thigh before teasing inward, and Kate gives up the pretense of politeness and squirms into Yelena’s touch. Yelena allows her one slick moment of pressure before pulling back, Kate crying out in frustration. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” Kate says quickly, “yes, please. Yelena, come on, please. I want more.”
“You believe me now?” Yelena asks, one finger hovering over the center of her, tapping feather light over the wettest curls. “You believe that I want you too?”
“I believe you, I believe you,” Kate tells her, her voice trembling as hard as her thighs. It takes everything in her not to get forceful, her fingers clenching in the sheets so she won’t grab Yelena and put her where she wants her, get Yelena’s mouth on her cunt and not let her up for air until she’s learned a lesson about being a fucking tease. “I want you, you know I do. Fuck me, Yelena,” she gasps and then goes for broke, admitting it all, “and say my name.”
“Kate Bishop,” Yelena says, her voice rich with satisfaction. Maybe Kate got it right, that’s what she wanted to hear, because Yelena knuckles her open and then licks into Kate’s cunt without any further discussion. She stabs her tongue in just like she promised, deep as she can get, her teeth a hard, flat blessing for Kate to grind her clit against until Yelena catches the rhythm, pins her down by her thighs and takes over.
Kate’s so on edge that she comes after about thirty seconds of Yelena tongue-fucking her, an orgasm that she feels in her soul and then through every blood vessel and every inch of skin. When Yelena shifts like she might pull away Kate hooks her thigh around Yelena’s shoulder and won’t let her, which thankfully just makes Yelena huff out a little laugh and then get back to licking her out.
She goes slower this time, each stroke of her tongue lazy and indulgent like this is more for her own enjoyment, like she’s tasting something rare and delicious. Kate’s throbbing, wet, almost exhausted from coming so hard so the next one catches her by surprise. She lets out a quiet gasp and trembles it out against Yelena’s mouth, feeling the shape of Yelena’s lips against the slick walls of her cunt as Yelena holds her open to kiss inside her.
“You are…so good at that,” Kate says when she remembers to breathe. It’s still kind of a struggle. Yelena might have actually fucked her brains out.
“I’m good at everything.” Yelena smiles and kisses her thigh.
“Everything,” Kate agrees. “Come up here and sit on my face.”
The startled delight in Yelena’s voice when she says Kate’s name this time gets Kate fully back online, her competitive streak rearing up as Yelena crawls sexily up her body and lowers her cunt to Kate’s mouth. Yelena’s so wet that Kate has to swallow after the first few licks, getting Yelena down her throat so she can better let Yelena ride her tongue. Which Yelena does, taking her pleasure from Kate’s mouth, her hands in Kate’s hair directing her, moving Kate how she wants her as she grinds down.
All she can taste is Yelena, all she can feel is soft skin, slick heat. Kate closes her eyes and suffocates herself in it, ready to drown in pussy if that’s what Yelena wants from her. Her head’s starting to feel heavy, jaw starting to ache, until the thought crosses her oxygen-starved mind that this could be a very literal honeytrap. She chokes out a laugh, arches up for a breath of cool air and then sucks on Yelena’s clit until Yelena swears very loudly in what must be Russian and comes riding Kate’s face.
Yelena very kindly lets her go after that, although Kate definitely still owes her one, or like three. She’s a little wobbly on her legs which is very gratifying to see, her cheeks pink, temples sweaty, and braids getting disheveled.
“I’m going to be honest, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says, sitting down next to her and then falling down onto her back with her head at Kate’s knees. “I had a feeling you would be good at that. And I was right.”
“I’m good at everything,” Kate says, both to echo Yelena’s earlier brag and to have words to speak. She’s running a little low on original thoughts. When she tilts her head up to look at Yelena again she gets a great view of Yelena’s flushed pink cunt, which doesn’t help her have any thoughts other than that she hasn’t gotten to finger-fuck Yelena yet and she very much wants to. After a brief intermission and a glass of water and a cuddle if Yelena’s into that.
“I like that,” Yelena says, fully lounging like this bed and this apartment are hers. Like she belongs here. She taps at Kate’s knuckles, and then winds their fingers together, squeezing a little and then staying in the handhold. This, of all things, makes Kate blush a little. She wonders if this type of thing is something she’ll have to disclose as an Avenger. Like, so nice to meet you, Captain America. By the way, I’m sleeping with a formerly brainwashed ex-assassin. Maybe he’ll understand. Clint’s made intimations about him and the Winter Soldier guy.
“I like you,” Kate says, feeling rather daring. She shifts over a few inches so she can feel more of Yelena’s skin.
Yelena says, so easily, “I like you too,” and rubs her thumb over the side of Kate’s hand. “You know Barton and my Natasha were very close. So this is very Hawkeye of you.”
“That’s why I did it,” Kate says. “Just trying to be on brand. Hey, you wanna be a good guy?”
“No.” Yelena sits up, straddles Kate with effortless grace and gets her pinned down by the wrists. Adrenaline floods Kate instantly, her heartbeat kicking up in anticipation of whatever Yelena wants to do to her. “What about you?” She drops her hips, bumping against Kate’s slightly sore clit between her spread legs, then grinds down just enough to make Kate gasp. “You wanna be a bad girl?”
“Yes,” Kate says, swallowing. “But maybe just for you.”
“Yes, Kate Bishop. Darling.” Yelena bends low, her breath hot on Kate’s lips when she says, “Just for me.”