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I Get A Little Green Too

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Steve Rogers was a man of virtues. He was loyal and devoted, trusting, courageous. He stood up for himself and others. He tried to see these virtues in others too. He trusted the ones he loved to be faithful to him, to never intentionally deceive them. He trusted them enough to not be jealous when his... girl danced – if whatever that thing she was doing with her hips could be called dancing – with their mark on the main dance floor, keeping him distracted long enough for Sam to search the person’s hotel room for the information he might have on a HYDRA base in Europe where the Winter Soldier had allegedly been kept while in hibernation.

He wasn’t jealous. He had no right to be. The thing between him and Natasha was casual. They were partners at work, they had amazing sex, they enjoyed each other’s company, and, okay, so they spent practically all their time together and they lived together and their friends thought they were dating, but they hadn’t really defined what the thing between them was.

He wasn’t jealous.

Except, he was.

Steve had agreed to be her backup, keeping an eye on her from the second level VIP lounge of the club. From his position he had a straight on view of the two of them, and Jesus, it was both arousing and agonising to watch Natasha dance with another man like this. Her body moved fluidly, sensually against the other man’s. Her hips swayed, her head fell back, and she put her arms above her head and around his neck and executed an erotic shimmy that made her partner’s eyes glaze over with lust.

The man wasn’t as coy as Natasha was being, and he boldly put one hand on her breast, his large paw engulfing her entire mound. A red haze of fury filled Steve’s vision. A possessive rage clamoured inside him. He clenched his fists, ground his teeth together, and beat down on the ugly jealousy boiling inside of him. It’s for the mission, he reminded himself. For Bucky.

His phone buzzed with a text message in his pocket. “Have you seen my socks?” followed by another message, “Found them.” He understood Sam’s code – he’d found what he was looking for. The mission was over.

Steve put his phone back inside and thundered down to the main lounge, aiming for his girlfriend. He emanated fury, and the crowd parted around him. His angry reaction was stronger than he could have imagined. Despite all his virtues, Steve Rogers did not share. Natasha was his, and only his.

He reached the two of them and shoved the man away from her. “Get the fuck away from her,” he yelled above the loud beat of the music. “She’s mine.”

The guy stumbled back a few steps, and was about t retaliate when he saw the murderous expression on the super soldier’s face. The man may be big, but Steve was bigger, and the other guy knew that. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, hands up in a gesture of truce, “I swear, I didn’t know.”

The rational part of Steve told him to take Natasha and get away from there before security came over, and he did just that. Clasping her hand in his, he dragged her away from there all the way to where he had parked the car. Natasha kept silent till they were in the privacy of the car before letting go of her own fury.

“What the fuck was that, Rogers?” she yelled at him as he pulled the car out of the parking lot.

“What the fuck was that?” he questioned. “What the fuck do you think you were doing?”

“My job,” she spat at him, turning in her seat to face him. “Or did you forget about the mission that you. Just. Screwed. Up?”    

“I didn’t forget anything,” he replied through clenched teeth. “Sam’s got the data we needed, so I intervened before that leech got his hands over any more of what’s mine.”

“Make no mistake, Steve Rogers,” she said icily, in a tone that permeated through the fog of outrage clouding his brain, “I do not, absolutely do not belong to anyone.”

Before he could reply, they had arrived at the rendezvous point with Sam, and Natasha turned back in her seat as their friend got in the back. He waved a USB happily at them before catching on to the tension simmering in the car. “Trouble in paradise?”

They both glared at him through the rear view mirror, and he wisely kept his mouth shut. When they arrived at the Tower, Natasha jumped out of the car before he had fully stopped, and hurried over to their floor without a backwards glance. With a quick command to JARVIS, she had locked Steve out of the suite.

Still bitter over their fight, Steve left with Sam early the next morning, before Natasha had even woken up and they’d had a chance to calmly resolve things. The lead they caught led them to a small town outside Salzburg, Austria.

They were stuck there for the next few days, and Steve had been moping the entire time. He still felt justified in his actions, knew she would have reacted the same way if another woman was all over him, but it didn’t stop the agony at being separated from her from twisting in his gut. He knew that he was getting on Sam’s nerves, that his friend was actually contemplating calling Natasha over and handing over the mess of an Avenger over to her, but he couldn’t really care about it. He sat in one corner of the pub in his motel, drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle, pretending to still be able to get drunk.

He sensed her when she entered the pub. She was dressed in a short black dress that clung to her curves and ended just at the top of her thighs. Her head held high in confidence, she dragged the attention of every male in the room, and more than a few sets of eyes lewdly roved over her slender figure. The jealousy he had pushed and buried under layers of control broke free and turned him into a raving mad-man. God, did she fucking like it when men fucking objectified her, when they openly mentally undressed her while planning out ten different ways to make her scream their name? Did she like it when the HYDRA operative had all but pawed at her breast like an animal?  

The thought made him insane, and he couldn’t get across the room fast enough to reclaim what was his, to dominate every inch of Natasha and make sure it was his scent that was imprinted all over her, inside and out, by the time he was done with her. He saw her eyes light up with something – some emotion he wasn’t comprehensive enough to even begin to understand – when she saw him stalk towards her. Before either of them could utter a word, he captured her lips in a ruthless, punishing kiss that was obscene in every sense of the word, that she responded to with more than enough heat of her own. Through the haze of anger and lust, he heard people cheering and hooting, and he broke away from her and pushed her out of the room and away from the line of sight of others.

She was breathing hard – they both were – when he pushed her against the wall of the stairs, arms on either side of her face, pinning her there with the sheer strength of his muscular upper body. She opened her mouth to say something, but he kissed her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as it battled with hers. He pulled his lips away with a lewd smack. “Do not say a fucking word,” he bit out.

“You’re still angry,” she said, her own angry fire returning in her eyes.

“I’m fucking livid, Tasha,” he growled out. His hands moved away from the wall and travelled over her body, feeling the silkiness of her dress against his rough palms as he cupped her ass and lifted her off the ground, pressing her pelvis down on the bulge in his pants. He felt wetness seep through the material of her dress and onto his pants and realised she wasn’t wearing any underwear. The thought made him growl again. “You belong to me, Tasha. And no one touches what’s mine.” He rolled his hips against her to emphasise his point.

I don’t belong to anyone,” she snapped at him in German, even as she pulled his face down to hers for another soul-deep, tongue-tangling kiss. Still attached to her, he blindly climbed up the stairs and made it to his room, pulling away from her just long enough to open the door and then lock it behind him. He didn’t bother to put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob. He intended for the entire motel to know that it was him pounding into her and making her scream like he owned her.

He set her back down on her feet. “Take off your dress before I tear it off you,” he ordered as he stripped off his own shirt and removed his shoes and socks. “I want everything off except the heels.”

Despite her anger at being manhandled, heat and excitement flared inside her as she quickly got rid of her dress and then her bra, standing gloriously naked before him, her stiletto heels accentuating her long legs. She had waxed her mound, and it made his dick pulse with lust. “Sit on the bed and lay back. I want your legs dangling over the edge.”

Knowing better than to defy him when he had gone into his alpha-male mode, she did exactly as he instructed, and he strolled over to her, unzipping his pants and taking his leaking cock out without taking his eyes off her. He drank in the sight of her, all spread out for his enjoyment, a flush of heat spreading across her neck and chest under his scrutinising gaze. She had her thighs closed all too primly, teasing him, but he rectified the problem immediately.

He pressed his hands to the knees bent over the edge of the mattress and roughly shoved them wide apart. She stared at him so trustingly, wetting her lips in anticipation, and that need to possess her swirled inside of him once again. Fierce, dominant emotions rose to the surface, heating his blood and thickening his cock.

He slid his splayed palms up her thighs, spreading her legs even more till she was completely, indecently exposed to him. Kneeling down between her legs, he inhaled her scent, and his nostrils flared as the drugging essence of her seeped into his pores. “This is mine, Natasha,” he said, and moved in to claim what was his.

She let out a string of curses in German, eyes falling shut of their own accord, as he pressed the flat top of his tongue to her slit, parting her folds. “Don’t belong to anyone,” she managed to get across between the moans escaping her throat.  

He growled at her defiance, the vibration from his throat sending pin pricks of pleasure shooting through her. His tongue delved deep into her feasting on her like a sweet, succulent, juicy fruit, and she gasped.

“Whom does this pussy belong to? Tell me, Tasha, who owns this pussy?”

“Since I’m the one who keeps it clean, shaved and healthy, I own it!” she cried out, both of her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair while her hips jerked against his determined assault on her.

It didn’t take long to make her come. His mouth devoured and pillaged, his tongue hit all the hot spots, and her entire body arched and shuddered as he sent her careening straight into ecstasy. She screamed hoarsely as she rode the intense waves of her orgasm, while his cock pulsed and throbbed with need.

By the time she recovered, he was back up on his feet, his jeans pushed down and thrown over his shoulder. He hand was grasping his weeping cock, rubbing the foreskin up and down, while the thumb of his other hand played with the tip. He scooped the precum off the head. Leaning over her, he brought the finger up to her lips, rubbing it on her lower lip till she opened her mouth and accepted him, sucking on it like she sucked on his cock.

You're mine,” he whispered to her, looking into her eyes, his voice deep and raw with emotion. All too suddenly, he was feeling so much. His heart raced and pounded as everything he felt about her, all the love and admiration and fierce need for her broke free of the chains he kept them locked under and escaped with those two words. “You’re mine.”

She felt it all too. All the walls she had built around herself crumbled into dust. “Yes, I’m yours,” she admitted, her own voice reflecting the same emotions. “I’m yours.”

He kissed her then, deep and loving, yet completely possessive. His hips surged forward in desire, his cock bumping against her clit, and they both gasped in pleasure. His lips broke apart, kissing up her jaw, and he growled into her ear. The possessive animal he had been all night was back. “I am not done with you. I am nowhere even close to claiming you, claiming this body of yours that was made for my pleasure.” When he was done with her, she would be utterly and completely satiated and marked by him.

She whimpered as he straightened and grabbed hold of his cock, tapping it on her clit, making her jerk with pleasure. “You’re mine, Natasha,” he repeated, and thrust into her, burying into her to the hilt in one fluid stroke. She keened and arched off the bed. He stayed inside her, unmoving, holding her hips in place even as she tried to get some friction. “Say it, Tasha. You’re mine, say it.

I’m yours, Steve. All yours,” she moaned. He shifted her legs onto his shoulders, the change in angle making him sink in deeper into her. He pulled out of her slowly, letting only the tip stay inside, before thrusting in hard. She gasped, the force of the thrust pushing her up on the bed, making her breasts bounce.

He repeated the movement again and again, making her jerk and gasp and moan and whimper in slowly building heat. “Your body is mine,” he grunted, “Made for my pleasure.”

She moaned helplessly. “Yes.”

He turned his head and nipped at her ankle resting on his shoulder. “Your orgasms are mine.” He pressed his thumb to her clit, adding just enough pressure and friction to make her tremble with a need that only he could appease.

She rolled her hips, trying to seek the release he was holding just out of reach. “Yes, yours.”

“I own you, Natasha. Heart and soul,” he said harshly, reverting to English, not caring how barbaric he sounded.

“Always,” she whispered, her reply heartfelt and true.

“I’m going to make you come. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll forget about everything except my cock and how it makes you feel. How I make you feel. And then I’m going to mark you with my come. Inside you and all over you.”

“Please!” she whimpered, and he gave her body what it craved. She splintered apart, her thighs quivering as her internal walls clenched hot and tight around him. He clenched his teeth as he held back on his own release. Only after he was done extracting every last bit of her orgasm did he allow himself to fall over the edge. He spilled inside her once, twice, before pulling out and aiming at her chest. One thick strand of white covered her breast, while another landed on her chin.

He groaned gutturally, both from his orgasm and from the sight of her covered and dripping, leaking his seed. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, breathing hard. Steve slowly put her legs down, legs that had gone numb from being up so long. She closed her eyes and groaned as pin pricks of sensation came back to her legs, only realising Steve had left her when he came back with a wet towel and cleaned her up.

He dropped the dirty towel on the ground and slowly, delicately lifted her up and shifted her higher on the bed. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him like he was her lifeline, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Gently depositing her onto the pillows, he pulled away just long enough to remove her heels.

“Hey,” he whispered to her as he crawled back into her arms. All traces of the possessive caveman were gone from him, and his voice held nothing but adoration for her.

“Hi,” she whispered back, pulling him down for a slow and soft kiss. They lay there in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow and the intimacy of the moment. When he pulled away, it was to rest his forehead against hers.

“This thing between us, Steve,” she said, “it’s not casual, is it? It never has been.”

Steve opened his eyes and looked at her, and saw something so vulnerable in her eyes. She had let him strip down all her defences, let him get past all the walls surrounding her and protecting her. Just like he had let her crawl into his world and permeate into every aspect of his life. “No,” he replied. “We’ve only been deluding ourselves.”

He tilted his face a little, rubbed his nose against the length of hers. She sighed contentedly, arms tightening around his broad shoulders. She loved being held by him like this, his large arms enveloping her petite frame, his warmth and his homey musk surrounding her. She wanted to tell him this. Tell him how safe he made her feel, how he had chased away the demons in her life, the demons of her past. She wanted to tell him how much she loved the little things about him, the crinkle in his forehead when he was focused on his art, the dimple in his cheek every time he grinned at her, the slight clenching of his jaw when he was angry. Tell him she loved that he pancakes for her every week, that he always kept the fridge stocked with cheesecake flavoured ice cream from Haagen Dazs because she loved it. Tell him she loved that he had his side of the bed and she had hers, that his toothbrush was next to hers in the cup in the bathroom, that his ties lay in the same drawer as her scarves.

She wanted to tell him that she loved every aspect of being with him.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him.

“Steve...” she broke off, voice choking with emotion. The emotions, the feeling boiling up inside of her were overwhelming. Her chest tightened, and she felt a few tears escape from the corners of her eyes. She had never felt so much before, never felt so deeply and overwhelmingly.

“Shh...” he kissed away the droplets streaming down the side of her face. “I know, Tasha. I know because I feel the same way.” His hands cupped her face and he pressed his lips to her. “These past three days have been torturous without you. They made me realise just how much I can’t live without you, Natasha. I need you in my life, in my head. I need you watching my back in the field. I need you, Natasha.” He looked into her eyes, his own gleaming emotion. “I love you, Natalia.”

“Why can’t I say it?” she whispered hoarsely.

“You’ll say it when you're ready,” he said softly. “Okay?”

She stared at him for a few moments, then nodded. “Yeah.”

They fell asleep like that, holding on to each other. When they woke up next morning, the tension from the night before was gone. They were almost giddy with the new step forward in their relationship, and most of the morning was spent celebrating. They walked down to the dining room together, holding hands, and even Sam’s sour mood as he made them pay for the other room he had to shift to last night because of how loud they were being couldn’t ruin it for them.