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What Friends Do

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Steve kisses like it's 1943.

She's not sure exactly what it is that's different. She's kissed more people than she can count, after all. A lot of people she didn't want to but had to, but plenty more she did in search of tending to her needs with sometimes not exactly the most proper of means. Countless kisses, all but a few really standing out for her. Her first kiss, of course. The kiss of the first man she ever garotted to death in his sleep. The gorgeous Nepalese woman whose dance was so enthralling that the only thing more beautiful that she saw in Asia was when she danced atop her instead of for her. Steve's kiss feels different from all of those, and she wonders how much of it is time disparity and how much of it is the man.

Going in, Natasha knew she was going to have a lot of work to do. Steve has all the raw potential in the world, and a physicality that can give her the sort of rough, competitive sex she really, really needs sometimes. Problem is, he's old-fashioned, and merely catching up with seventy years of pop culture doesn't change his fundamental instincts about sex. Not to mention his inexperience. She doesn't even need to stick 'relative' onto that thought, though it easily applies.

He's going to be a lot of work, but when she has him completely naked, her eyes come to the immediate conclusion that he will be well worth whatever effort it takes. She bites her lower lip and tries not to make a remark about what other things the super serum 'enhanced', because even if she's comfortable enough with Steve to joke after all the missions they've run together she is absolutely not ready to make such a terrible joke.

Suffice to say, when he knows how to use it, Natasha is insisting on them taking some vacation days.

She goes right back to kissing him to avoid making any remarks at all. There is a man in her bed who is, depressingly, one of the most well-adjusted people she's ever taken a shine to, and happens to be built like a bronze god turned to flesh. Even if he isn't going to give her the fuck she needs, the way his fingers hold onto her hips as she grinds her bare chest against his tells her that he has all the tools, he just needs to learn how to use them. Fortunately for him, she's the best teacher, and by the time she's done, he'll be fucking her up against a wall and the only thing to regret is that she won't be able to watch every individual muscle in his body move as he does so.

For Steve, the mere fact that the gorgeous redhead is lying atop him instead of the other way around is already enough to give him a little pause. Everything is so different than it used to be, seventy years removed from experiences and anecdotes outdated and radically shaken to the core. His cock sits against her rear, which she so gladly pushes back and rubs against it. It makes him groan and shift, thoughts of change running through his mind. He knows it's not what he should do, but he's in a new century and there's no way he can continue acting like it isn't. Especially since in the back of his mind, he's aware that Natasha is a very experienced woman who is going to need something more than he can provide if he keeps stuck on how it used to be. His hands slide up from her hips and grab handfuls of her round ass, and he's only certain that she enjoys it when he feels her lips curl into a smile against his.

His only sexual experiences were all very gentlemanly, straightforward affairs. His friends had some stories so wild he didn't know if they were even true, but his own were tame. Natasha isn't tame. Nothing about the woman save for the stoicness with which she regards life is tame, but with her breasts squished up against his chest and her breath on his neck, there is no icy mask. There is a raw and vocal woman naked atop him whose appetites run deeper than any girl he found at the drugstore.

Her thighs squeeze his waist as she grinds her body against his, and while she knows he desperately needs as much kissing practice as she can give him, she needs to feel something more responsive. She moves her kiss to his neck, where the muscles tighten against her and she can feel his throat contract as he gasps. As she does, reaches back for his cock, grasping it as her lower body lifts up off of him and pulls him upward. His tip rubs against her slick folds, and she wishes that she she could get into some foreplay before tossing herself into it, but he looks so nervous just from the way she has his shaft that she doesn't know if he can handle it quite yet. All she wants is some nails down her back, but she knows it'll take some work to turn her boy scout into something a little more sexual.

Steve fought in a war and fended off an alien invasion. Explosions and gunfire have rung in his ear more times than he can count, and he's met every threat unflinchingly. But Natasha intimidates him, as does modern sex. Chasing an escaping gunman through a night club left him with so many questions that were only answered with a laugh and a pat on the back. Earlier in the night, a whispered remark about his head between Natasha's legs nearly made him recoil in terror. He knows what she can do with her legs, having seen her killed people with them before, and even if he knows she won't do it to him it's more than a little intimidating.

So she takes it easy. He's not fragile, but she treats him like he is, pushing her hips down and easing him slowly into her. His size makes her curse beneath her breath in Russian and press her lips harder into his neck. The feeling of her hungry kisses make his throat tighten again and his firm, unyielding body squirm before he's even inside of her, and once she is he lets out a moan he would have greatly preferred to keep to himself.

She can take him without trouble, so she doesn't spend a long time building up to anything. She just goes at it. Subtlety and patience are for when he's better at sex; this is just a quick exploration. He at least knows what to do with his hands, their firm grasp on her upper hips and digging hard against her lower back. It's a good hold on her, making her spine arch from that point as she gives his neck a rest and lets his eyes enjoy themselves some more.

And they do. No amount of gentlemanliness is able to overcome the sight of Natasha sitting in his lap, long red hair all sent behind her shoulders by a toss of her head that accompanies a hungry moan. The way she bends pushes her breasts out, and as she starts to really pick up speed, the way they bounce, so full and luscious, makes his mouth water. Even the mere sight of her full lips curling so lovingly around each moan and word she says, other just the way one disappears between her teeth as she looks down at him, is more than he's prepared for.

His hips start pushing up off the bed without any conscious effort made, lifting her entire body up off the bed with each push, and the way she smiles encourages him to start doing it on purpose. His powerful rocks have enough force to ensure his entire cock is buried in her every time, his hips slamming up against her hard enough to send shockwaves of pleasure shuddering up through her body. It makes her toss her head back again, not just bending but full-on sitting as she rides his lap, trying to keep as fluid and sultry as she can while he shakes her. She doesn't do the best job, but it's not hard to be the hottest thing Steve's ever seen, all things considered.

It's not quite the fucking she wants, but it's enough for her to finally get into it, feel like she's enjoying herself instead of just helping Steve along so that when she tries introducing something a little more risque he won't immediately bail on her. He might not know exactly what to do but he has enough to work with that what would be clumsy with one person is more than good enough coming from him.

Something came over Steve as he watched Natasha's breasts heave and sway as he fucked up into her. It can't have been standard arousal, because the way she'd flirted with him left his pants tight through much of the evening. It was something deeper, more primal, and he wasn't even aware of it until he was on his knees, Natasha lying on the bed as he let gravity aid him in the desperate thrusts down into her sopping wet pussy. It must have taken her by surprise too, since she gasped and cried out from the very sudden change in position and the newfound intensity with which he ravaged her. She didn't seem to mind much at all, wrapping her legs around him and pulling up. Gladly, Steve buried his face in her cleavage, and Natasha was left wondering what had snapped inside him to make such a drastic change in only a few seconds.

Not that she minded. She bounced up and down on his cock, his powerful hips still going at her as he kissed and licked her breasts. There was a temptation to rake her nails down his back just to see how he'd react, but he was already so much further than she expected, and she decided to just let him have his time before she tried to make him a deviant for her enjoyment. Besides, he was fucking her with enough power that she wanted to save the discovery of what would constitute as 'rough' to him for another night.

A chorus of moans, grunts, and sloppy thrusting noises fill the room as they race to orgasm. Steve doesn't know how to hold back, but he's so big and fucking her so hard that Natasha isn't too far off, and she's not keen on trying to draw it out only to find Steve doesn't have the sexual stamina to hold back well before she's gone. They meet their climaxes at once, Steve pushing her down into the very soft bed hard enough to make her bounce as he follows suit, pinning her forcefully to the mattress as his cock twitches, his back arches, and he lets out a loud shout of surprise as pleasure strikes him in ways it never has before. He moans and fills her up, pumping his seed into her as she squirms and howls beneath him, her velvety walls clamping down on him in a biological need to milk every last drop out of him.

They kiss on the way down from their orgasms, a slower, more patient making out where hands are just gently running through hair and along cheeks.

“Completely casual?” he asks when it's all over. The thought seemed odd to him when they started, but the implications only worsen in the afterglow, Natasha below him and the taste of her kiss refusing to leave his mouth. Detachment isn't so easy to swallow when she's framed so gorgeously.

“Between friends,” she confirms, closing her eyes so that she doesn't have to pretend she's being honest.

He sighs, removing his hand from her cheek, a gesture he feels too affectionate for the situation, even if the sentiment behind it is genuine. “Is this what friends do?”

Her head turns off to the side, even if she doesn't need to avert her gaze with her eyes closed. She wants to push him off, but she doesn't. “It can be. And it's how I'd prefer it.” She's thankful that she's such a good liar, and then goes right back to kissing him, not caring about mixed signals and hoping for another round.