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Date Night

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He was moving over her, inside her, thrusting deep and hard, and she could feel herself close to the edge, the heat building in her core, before it just...stopped. The flame cooled down, the sweat clinging to her suddenly felt icky, and exhaustion – not the good kind – settled in her bones.  

Steve must have felt the same, for he pulled out of her and rolled off of her, settling onto his own side of the bed. There was no sweet post-coital glow, no cuddling or whispering love confessions. They both just lay down on their respective pillows, facing the ceiling, unable to comprehend what had just occurred.

“What in the world...? Did we just –” Steve started, but Natasha cut him off.

“No,” she said adamantly. “Absolutely not! There is no way –”

“But we just did. We had... bad sex.”

“We did not have bad sex...”

He turned on his side to face her, propping his head up on his elbow. “Nat, we didn’t even finish.”

She shook her head. “Mm mm. Nope. Black Widow does not have bad sex. She has great sex. She has excellent sex. With you, she has earth-shattering, mind-blowing sex.”

She suddenly rolled over, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. She placed her hands on either sides of his face and leaned down to kiss him, moving her wet sex against his semi-hard cock. With their chests pressed together and the slow grinding motion of their hips, she could almost feel the desire grow once again. Almost.

She broke the kiss, resting her forehead on his collarbone. Her hips stopped moving. “We’re having bad sex.”

He pressed a kiss on her forehead, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close to him almost protectively. “Hey, it can happen. We’re both exhausted. We haven’t had any down time since James was born...”

“Oh my God, Steve, we’re going to be one of those couples...”

“We’re not going to be one of those couples.”

“Yes, we are! We’re going to be one of those couples who have a horrible sex lives just because they had one kid. Our life is going to be a circle of dirty diapers and spit stained clothes and practically no sleep and bad sex!”

“Natasha, it was just this one time,” he pulled her up for a soft kiss. “I promise, we’re going to earth-shattering, mind-blowing sex again, just not today. Okay?”

She stared at him for a second, and then nodded. “Okay.” She rolled back on the bed, back to her side. Steve shifted onto his front and draped a hand over her, holding her in a manner that was close but not confining. She laid her own arm on top of his, her fingers curling around his biceps. He was snoring soon enough, but she stayed awake, plotting.

Black Widow does not do bad sex.


She planned it all out for them. That weekend they would have a date night, she decided. And they would have sex – of the good variety. In their three years of dating and then three years of marriage, they had had sex a lot. While other couples started losing their spark as the familiarity increased, they only grew closer. They were – surprisingly - the kind of couple that couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. And yet, since their son James had been born six months ago, they had had sex all of two times – twice in six months.

It’s not like they didn’t try, because they tried. But they had an infant who had taken after his father in the sleeping department, who wailed at the most inopportune of moments, who refused to drink the formula milk and had to be breast-fed all the time, which really hampered the weaning process. And even when Natasha wasn’t feeling like the walking dead, Steve was exhausted from the double workload training the recruits at the Avengers Facility because Natasha was on maternity leave. All that was not counting the occasional global crisis.

So Natasha had spoken to Clint, and he and Laura would look after James for the night, and Steve and she would have an evening all for themselves the coming weekend. An evening of fine dining and dancing and lots of good sex.

Come Saturday, she was more than ready for the evening. She got to work as soon as Steve left. She set up a table for a candlelight dinner on the patio overlooking the backyard. The stereo was set up to play the most romantic of tunes for the 1940s. She got all the required groceries to prepare a three course meal for them, and got out the bottle of Chateau Bordeaux that Tony had gifted them on their wedding. She had a classic black number ironed and hung outside to change into in the evening. Personal care was covered during her morning shower.

She had given Sam explicit instructions to send Steve home early that day. Training a bunch of superheroes wasn’t a standard nine to five job, and more often than not Steve ended up coming home late. He was home by 5:30 that evening. The house was bathed in the glow from fragrant tea light candles placed all over, the faint smell of lavender mixed with home cooking mingling in the air. The living room furniture had been rearranged, the sofas pushed to the far wall and a mattress placed in the centre. Ella Fitzgerald’s soft voice filled the room.

“Natasha?” he called out, and heard the soft click of her heels as she walked down the hallway to him. He turned towards her, and had to remind himself to take a breath when he saw her.

Her black dress was sleeveless with a plunging v-neck that highlighted her ample cleavage. The skirt stopped just above her knees – giving way to her long legs - and was covered in a layer of black lace, separated from the top by a simple gold belt. The dress clung to her curves in all the right places.

“Hey,” she slid up to him, her hands crawling up to the back of his neck, and pulled him down for a soft kiss.

His own hands settled on her hips as he responded. He pulled away first. “Hey, what’s all this?”

“Well,” she drawled, her hands sliding to his chest under the collars of his shirt. She hadn’t told Sam anything, but she was glad he made Steve dress up and come. “We haven’t had a date night in a while, so I planned one.”

“James –”

“Clint and Laura have him for the night. You know what that means?”

His throat went dry. He knew exactly what that meant. Natasha said it for him anyway. “We have the house to ourselves all night.”

Steve grinned, excited at the thought, and bent down to kiss her again. She broke the kiss this time. “But first dinner. And dancing.”

“Dancing?” he arched an eyebrow. They both knew just how horrible he was at dancing.

“Hush. I have an entire evening planned before we get down and dirty.” She stepped back and pulled him by his hand to the patio at the back.

“And that mattress in the living room?”

She grinned over her shoulder at him. “I’ve heard sex by the fire place is really romantic, but I don’t want any rug burns.”

The patio was decorated with more tea lights, and the table for two was set up romantically. A small crystal vase held two red carnations – her favourite flowers – and the two glasses of wine were already placed by their plates. Natasha brought out their first course – broccoli soup with garlic bread that was perfect for the fall night – and he pulled her chair out for her.

The meal was enjoyed over a light conversation. Natasha told him about James’ antics during the day, he told her about Peter breaking the gym’s window again. They gossiped about Tony and Pepper, who were just back from their honeymoon on a private island. The moments of silence in between conversations were comfortable and relaxing. Once done with dessert – their favourite blueberry cheesecake – she pulled him back inside to the living room.

Their arms wrapped around each other as they gently swayed to the soft jazz tones. Natasha sighed in his arms. “I missed this.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, resting his cheek on top of her head. “It’s good to have an evening all to ourselves.” She hummed her agreement, and he continued. “Though I feel bad about making you do all the work.”

“Well,” she tilted her head back to look at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I expect you to fully make it up to me.”

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah, make it extra special, given how horrible the last time was.”

“I’ll make this night memorable for you,” he promised.

“Quit talking, soldier. More doing.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He bent down and covered her mouth with his, moving his hands from her hips up over her gorgeous, ample curves and figure to slide his fingers into her hair so he could tilt her head at the right angle to plunder her mouth with his tongue. He kissed her - oh he kissed her - and she melted into his arms the way she did every time his lips touched hers. The way he kissed her took her breath away. His tongue was slick against hers, his teeth gently nipping at her lower lip…

He pulled away from, trailing a line of wet kisses along her jaw to her ear. He nibbled onto her ear, his fast breath tickling her lobe. “I have needed you, Tasha,” he rasped into her ear, and she shivered. “These past few months, I’ve needed you so much. I’ve needed you on the bed,” he growled, his tongue licking the curve of her cheek as he bent down slightly to lift her, and her legs wrapped around him instinctively. He moved them towards the mattress on the floor, and continued, “Naked, writhing and moaning under me. I've needed you, flat on your back,” he moved to lay her down gently on the bed, his lips still assaulting her face, neck, collar, shoulders… “With your legs wrapped around my head.”

She sat up and helped him pull her dress up and throw it to the side. Sweet Jesus save him, she wasn’t wearing a bra. He tossed his own shirt off and aside and moved down her body, laying kisses on every inch of her creamy skin, nibbling on the supple flesh. She moaned and writhed under him, just as he wanted, as his lips took hold of one of her breasts, lavishing attention on it. He did the same to the other breast, and she gasped out his name as he bit down on one pink nipple.

“Steve, please…” she begged him, and he moved further south. Gently, he pulled down her lace thong, his fingers tracing the line of her legs as they pulled the garment off, and his gaze instantly locked in on the heat between her legs. He ran his nose along her slit, taking in her scent. “I've craved your smell, your beautiful lemony smell. I've craved your taste on my tongue as I plunge into your heat and your inner walls tighten around it.”

Natasha whimpered as she felt the light stroke oh his tongue up the range of her flesh and then flutter briefly at her clit. The quick movement, combined with the effect of his words, sent a jolt of pressure up her body. “That’s good,” she choked out.

He played with her clit for a few moments, before trailing down to her entrance, lapping at her. The physical pleasure intensified with every move he made – the curl of his tongue inside her, the circular flutter just at her entrance, the sudden pressure of his lips on one of her folds, and suction on her clit.

Her orgasm came over her suddenly, and her feet dug into the mattress as her back arched, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth open in a silent scream. “Steve,” she gasped out, her hands curling into his hair, keeping him in place as he greedily drank in her juices.

When she came down from her high, he was already kissing his way up her body. He dipped his tongue at the hollow of her collarbone, swirling it once, before kissing her neck and jaw and finally her lips. Natasha moaned at the taste of herself on his mouth, opening her mouth wider for him to plunder. Steve’s hands stroked down her body to her hips, and he lifted her legs to wrap around his hips. With a quick movement, he had rolled onto his back, and with a jerk, Natasha’s naked sex rubbed against the bulge in his pants, leaving a wet patch on the black material. They both gasped at the sensation, and she pressed herself harder against him.

Natasha bent down to capture his lips once more, and Steve lifted his hips to push down his jeans and boxers together. They both used their legs to push down the material and then Steve was lifting her up over his erection and letting her slowly sink down. They both moaned at the sensation of finally being joined together after the torturous past few weeks and months.

He let her adjust to his hard length before grabbing her ass cheeks and lifting her slowly, torturously. As she sank back down on him, he thrust up into her fast, his pelvis hitting hers, and she gasped at the fullness of him. They set a slow pace, and it wasn’t long before Natasha was moaning and gasping loudly. Her nails raked his chest, and he thrust into her faster. Natasha fell forward onto him, and she pressed her forehead to his as the speed of his thrusts increased.

Pressing his feet into the bed for leverage, he curled his fingers in her hair as he started thrusting up faster, harder, penetrating her deeper. But the angle just wasn’t enough, and they both needed more. Natasha whimpered as he pulled her off of her, but soon moaned when he flipped her onto her stomach and entered her from behind in one quick thrust.

“Oh, God, yes!” she gasped out, her head arching back, and Steve growled as she clenched her inner walls around him. He set a punishing pace, bending forward to envelope her body as his hands covered hers and his fingers knotted with hers. He was close, and so was she, but he needed her to climax first. Using their entwined fingers he pressed against her bundle of nerves between her legs.

“Oh, fuck, yes… God… yes, oh God… fuck…” with a litany of colourful profanities, she came hard, her body jerking back against his. Steve continued thrusting into her, groaning as her walls convulsed around him. He pushed her into the bed as he moved inside her faster, and the movement along with the sensual rubbing of the silk sheets all along her body sent her spiraling into another smaller orgasm.

“Steve!” she gasped out, and that was enough to send him over the edge. His body curled over hers, pressing her into the mattress as he spilled inside her, groaning into her ear. “Oh, God, Natasha!” he moaned throatily.

He collapsed onto her, letting her feel his weight, and wrapped his arms around her. They took a few minutes to catch their breaths, before Steve rolled them over into a spooning position and buried his face into her neck.

“Whoa!” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, his breath tickling her.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her breathless tone filling him with pride.

“That was good.”

“That is how we have good sex.”

End.