Natasha woke to the sight of her latest experiment folded neatly on the chair by the wardrobe.
The outfit was leather from the top of the skintight, laced corset to the bottom of the knee-high boots, and Steve had folded it. Not torn it from her body with his super-strong muscles. He hadn't even left it lying around the room in his haste to jump her.
It had been the same with the cheerleader outfit, the USO girl costume, the bar wench dress, the sexy lingerie and the geisha ensemble.
He'd said, "That's a nice outfit; is it new?" before stripping it off of her and folding it neatly. "Wouldn't want it to get creased."
The latex nurse's outfit was notable for the change of routine. He'd asked if she was on an undercover assignment before helping her with the zip.
It wasn't that Steve wasn't great in the sack. He was gentle and attentive and made sure she reached orgasm at least once before he came himself. He even slept in the wet spot without a single complaint. Really, Steve Rogers was as perfect in a relationship as he was in uniform and fighting bad guys. Every woman in the country would be jealous of her if they knew, but it wasn't enough.
She wanted to make Captain America lose control.
She'd really thought the leather would do it. She couldn't remember the last time a man had resisted her leather catwoman outfit. Maybe she'd try a Catholic schoolgirl uniform next.
Steve was sleeping peacefully beside her. She considered waking him up with a blow job, but they'd been busy and he needed his sleep. Besides, she should get back to her room before anyone else woke up. She didn't need Coulson's lecture about sleeping with a teammate; Clint had told her it wasn't enjoyable at all.
There was no way she was getting back into that leather outfit, though. She snagged Steve's t-shirt from the back of the chair as she went towards the bathroom.
Five minutes later she was moving past Steve's bed again when his sleep-soft voice stopped her.
"What are you wearing?"
"One of your shirts. The leather's a bit much to get into so early in the morning."
He blinked sleepily and she wondered what was wrong. The t-shirt was at least three sizes too big for her and kept her modestly covered even though she wore not a stitch underneath it. Americans would call it a jersey, she supposed, a gift from the Rangers, with 'ROGERS' written in large script across the back.
"That's my jersey," he said, sounding a bit dazed.
"Yes. I can -" take it off, she'd been about to offer, but instead she was pressed against the wall, Steve's body pressing her tight, his cock hard against her stomach.
"Fuck, Nat," he said and that was enough to get her arching against him.
Steve never spoke like that outside of battle. But now, with his hands stroking up her thighs and another groaned, "Fuck" when he discovered she wasn't wearing underwear, Steve Rogers was losing control.
"Do you know how fucking good you look in my clothes? I don't know why, but my t-shirt, covering you? I want to fuck you. Can I fuck you, Nat?"
She didn't answer him, just pressed her back harder against the door and lifted her legs, settling them around his hips and pulling. He slid straight into her, his hard length filling her so that she had to bite down on his shoulder to keep silent.
He began to move and there was nothing slow or gentle about it. Her hips thudded against the door as he pounded into her - that was the only word for it - and she loved every minute of it. The rough material of the jersey rubbed against her nipples with every thrust and she could feel the pressure building deep within her.
Steve's face was nestled against her neck, his scent surrounding her and she clutched desperately at him when his teeth latched onto her skin for one blissful second before he froze.
"Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck," he said and she could feel his cock pulsing inside her.
He sagged then, his weight the only thing keeping her up. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her skin.
"Don't -" apologize, she'd been going to say, but he was already pulling out of her and the only thing that left her throat was a disappointed, desperate whine.
She was wondering if she was going to have to bring herself off, but then Steve knelt at her feet, and his tongue was in her cunt and holy fuck Captain America was licking his own come from her body.
It was as if he was desperate to suck every drop from her and she could feel her legs growing weak under his assault. His hands were on her hips, clutching the t-shirt, and she let him hold her up. Somehow her fingers were in his hair, clutching him and holding his damned head still so she could grind against his face, lips and tongue and that fucking morning stubble that was sending waves of pleasure from her thighs right to her brain.
One hand crept round to her arse and tilted her hips so he could fasten his lips to her clit and suck in exactly the right way and she was coming, a low wail escaping her throat as her body bucked under his strong hands. He gave another tentative lick and she pushed him away, too tender, too sensitive, after all of that.
He stood, a grin on his face, and she couldn't resist licking him, making the taste theirs to share. He wiped his face on the t-shirt, marking that as well.
"Good morning," he said, that sheepish smile back, and she had to leave before she kissed him again and any window for getting back to her room was gone.
"I should go," she said and he nodded. "I'm keeping this, though."
He traced a finger along the gaping neckline. "Please do."
With one last kiss, she opened the door and slipped out before she started blushing like she was a schoolgirl. After taking a deep breath she turned and found herself face to face with Phil Coulson, looking rather flustered and complete with fresh stubble rash. Tony stood in the open doorway behind him, stark – she snorted at the pun – naked.
"Is that a new t-shirt, Nat?" Tony said, and she turned a cold glare his way.
Pepper came up behind him, fastening an ear-ring, as Nat heard the door open behind her. "It's a good look on you," Pepper told her as she slipped under Tony's arm. "We'll see you tonight, Phil?"
"Of course," Coulson replied, not taking his eyes from Natasha.
Nat felt an arm snake around her waist and warm lips pressed against her cheek. "I'll see you in the gym in ten?"
"Of course," she replied, her eyes never leaving Coulson's.
Pepper and Steve headed towards the lifts and Tony closed the door, leaving her in the hall with Coulson. "I know fifty-seven ways to kill you with my bare hands," she told him.
"I know how to do the paperwork so that people believe you never existed."
"Have a good day, Agent."
"You also, Agent."
"Nat?" she paused half-way towards the lifts but did not turn around. "That t-shirt really does suit you."
She smirked. It really did.