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The first thing Natasha says to her is: "Take off your clothes."
A boilerplate request, but it still makes Melina smile. She reaches to slip off her shoes, letting her coat puddle around her feet, movements easy and relaxed. That's the whole point after all, to make it easy. Obedience without gritted teeth or swallowed blood, obedience without fear or doubt or suffering.
Cool air tickles her skin as she stands naked, hands loosely at her sides, hair slipping from her braids to fall down her back. She lets Natasha circle her, feet silently on the underground. Melina turns her head to look her almost-daughter in the eye, teeth bared in a challenge.
"Look straight ahead," Natasha orders. "And stop smirking." Melina does as she's told, calm and brisk as a soldier. She keeps her eyes on the door while Natasha feels at her breasts, her sides, her buttocks.
Eventually Natasha comes back around again, gaze level. She slips off her own clothes slowly, letting Melina observe her pink-tipped breasts and the perfect thatch of red hair at her cunt. When their clothes are mixed together on the floor, Natasha steps forward, gaze rigid with determination.
"Kiss me, Mom." The name makes Melina shudder even as she leans forward, lips pressing tight and frantic against Natasha's steady mouth. Natasha's fingers wrap tightly around her right breast, squeezing tight while she guides Melina on the bed.
The mattress is soft beneath her, the bedframe creaking under their combined weight. Natasha's hair falls over Melina's face as they keep kissing, her tongue forcing between Melina's teeth. One hand bears down on Melina's chest, the other pressing light fingers against Melina's throat.
For a while, they just kiss like that, hips grinding lazily together. Natasha takes her hand off Melina's chest so she can slip her fingers into Melina's throat, petting along her tongue. "Suck," she orders, not that Melina needs any encouragement.
She whines when Natasha pulls her fingers away, chasing after them like a greedy child. Natasha just laughs, shaking her head. "Hold still, Mom." Melina does, letting her body fall limp while Natasha's damp fingers slip inside her cunt.
Melina moans, stomach curled with how badly she wants to grind into the touch, but she can't. It's not a matter of will, compulsion, intimidation--she simply can't. For a moment she thinks of Dreykov's dry fingers prodding at her, the effort it took to moan instead of breaking his wrist, and she sobs.
"Shhh." Natasha kisses her forehead, her lips, her throat. "It's okay, Mom." Her tongue flicks, out tracing the curve of Melina's cheek. She's still got fingers pressed to the side of Melina's throat, keeping steady track of her pulse.
So calm, so sure of herself. Melina loves Alexei, but she would never let him rule her like this, would never give in entirely to his fire and bluster. Natasha is different, run through with rigid steel. Her knees grind into Melina's legs as she piles on more kisses, pressing their mouths together for longer and longer, deeper and deeper, until--
"Mom," Natasha whispers into Melina's mouth, careful, like the idea has just occurred to her. "Stop breathing."
And just like that, just like that, the air cuts off. Her lungs slam shut, her brain disconnecting wires that should be kept in constant motion. A severed nerve, a split rope. Melina gags on nothing, trapped air burning in her throat.
"Fuck." Natasha whispers, her fingers spreading wide. Melina's vocal cords seize, trying and failing to let out a moan. "You really are the best little pig, aren't you, Mom?"
Pig. After a lifetime of being praised for her cleverness, the word sends wetness trickling down her face and between her thighs. Natasha hums, craning her neck down so she can kiss Melina's breasts, her teeth digging into Melina's skin.
"Like a fish on dry land," she murmurs, the words buzzing in Melina's ears. "How long do you think you can last?"
Longer than poor pig-Alexei, to be sure. Although to be honest, he hadn't had the extra pressure of fingers splitting him open, wrenching trapped air in gasps between his teeth. He hadn't the weight of a whole mad daughter pressing down, another layer of smothering to match the one in his mind.
"Your heart's beating so quickly." Natasha raises her head slightly, looking Melina over with sharp eyes. "And God, you're so wet. You've been waiting for this for a long time, haven't you? I can't believe you never tried to choke yourself as a kid or some shit like that."
Melina wheezes, wanting to say I did, I did and Dreykov was so furious, he thought I was trying to get away from him, hide myself in a grave. Can you imagine, the fool? Natasha laughs as she knows exactly what Melina is saying, pressing her thumb down hard against Melina's clit.
"Wish I had a camera, Mom." Bright sparks dance around Natasha's head, shimmering like a crown of stars. "Hang it on the wall, let everybody I know see how fucking beautiful you are when you're dying."
So dramatic, Melina thinks, rolling her eyes. Natasha huffs, curling her fingers tight. Her nails scrape raw when she shoves them in, one by one, even her thumb. She drags against Melina's inner walls, the pain minimal compared to the burning hell in Melina's chest.
"I could leave you like this," Natasha whispers. "Couldn't I? I could get away with it, I'm good at stuff like that. Alexei, Yelena, they'd miss you, but they'd get over it. And you...you wouldn't mind it, would you, Mom? Being dead?"
Would she? She doesn't think she minds anything at this point, not with this light buzzing through her veins and the darkness pressing at the edges of her vision. Her head feels like it might disconnect any second, wanting to pop off and drift away like a balloon."
"I never fucked a dead person before," Natasha says. Her fist pumps in and out, dull squelching sounds echoing through the room. "They made me do a lot of things, but they didn't make me do that."
Lucky girl, because Dreykov's anti-suicide prevention could be creative, but as soon the memories appears it's gone. She feels it wink out, again and again, long-dead stars finally giving up the ghost. She's spinning through an empty universe, shrunk down to her daughter's grip on her lungs and her daughter's fist on her cunt.
Brain damage is coming fast, she knows, something permanent. All that potential sniffed away, all those bad thoughts snuffed out. Nothing to be except a body, wheezing and staring and shitting itself. Natasha would still love her like that. Maybe Natasha can only ever love her, like that.
That or if she's dead, because she can feel death pacing fast on the darkness's heels. It's cold, but Melina can't even shiver, she's still holding still and still not breathing. The only sound left is the voice in her ears, speaking, ordering...
"Breathe, Melina, fuck--"
She's breathing, she's doing as she's told, she's a good girl. Her lungs wrench back open to let air in, her whole body shuddering with the force of it. Then it keeps shuddering as she breaks around Natasha's fist, her heels drumming wildly against the bed.
All the way through, she hears her daughter's voice. Natasha speaking to her, stretched ever so slightly with panic, ordering Melina to breathe slowly and not hyperventilate. Her lungs cry out at the measured pace, but Melina barely notices at this point.
She breathes, she breathes, and she barely notices the soft shhhk of Natasha's fist pulling out of her. Fingers brushes against her cheek, sweetness filling her nostrils. Natasha doesn't order her to lick the mess up, but Melina turns and does it anyway.
When Natasha's fingers are clean, she gently pulls them away. "How are you feeling?" she asks, voice soft. "Tell me."
"My chest hurts like hell," Melina says honestly. "But it is a good hurt."
"Oh, yeah?" Natasha presses her fingers to Melina's throat again, nodding along to the beat of her pulse. "You're crazy, you know."
"just like my daughter." Melina licks her lips, savoring as much of death's taste as she can. "I suppose that means I raised her well."
"Hmm." Natasha takes a deep breath and leans down again, pressing their mouths together. Melina kisses back, savoring a taste as sweet as death and as perfect as oxygen.
"It will not wear off for a few hours," she murmurs. "And there are other, less dramatic ways for me to hold my breath..."
Natasha laughs, already straightening up to sit back on her heels. Her cunt gleams in the bedroom light, already wet, already perfect as the rest of her. She weaves her hands through Melina's hair carefully, considering.
"Come on then, Mom," she orders. Melina doesn't need to be told twice.