“Hey,” he whispers in her ear, placing a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin just behind it.
It’s enough to rouse her. “Hmm?” She’s curled up against him, her back to his warm, bare chest, just at the point of drifting off to sleep.
His metal arms snakes its way across her waist, under her camisole, and his mouth leaves a soft trail from her ear down the slope of her neck. She knows instinctively what he’s suggesting and places her own hand on top of his, guiding it down under the waistband of her cotton shorts. She lifts her thigh ever so slightly to allow him better access and pushes his fingers in between her slit with a soft sigh of satisfaction. She undulates her hips, both to feel his solid, metallic fingers moving on her and to grind herself against him. It earns her a groan of want as he presses her closer and buries his face into the crook of her neck, sliding his hand against her wetness as his own hips begin to shift in sync with hers. She can feel his arousal as it builds, hardening against her backside under his thin pyjamas. She’s about to turn around and engage properly when the door to their bedroom is all but slammed open.
Both jolt up in a defensive position: James ready to leap out of the bed, metal arm raised and fisted, Natasha reaching for her knife in the drawer of the bedside table. With less than a few seconds of assessment they discover the small, seven year old silhouette of Lila Barton standing in the doorway. It’s obvious from the sniffling and hitched breaths that she’s crying.
“Lila, honey, what’s wrong?”
Without answering the girl sprints to the bed, dragging what is apparently her own blanket with her, and practically grapples Natasha in a hug, burrowing herself into the midsection of her aunt. Natasha’s arms wrap protectively around her as she leans in and whispers into her dark hair. “It’s ok, sweetheart,” she says as she soothes her back, “everything’s fine.”
Lila’s tears become less silent as she begins to cry a little harder.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
Natasha can feel Lila’s nod against her stomach. From behind she senses the weight of the bed shift as James switches on the side lamp.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
Lila shakes her head.
“Would you like me to get your mom for you?”
“Nate’s sleeping in their room and I didn’t want to wake him.” The answer comes out muffled, but clear enough for Natasha to understand. “Can I sleep with you?” she asks, looking up, the tears making her eyes glisten.
“You’re getting a little big for that, aren’t you?”
“Please?” She sniffs, wiping her nose with her purple sleeve. “There was a wolf who ran into the house and he turned into a murderer who killed everybody and then he laughed and ate Cooper’s guts.”
Natasha turns to look at James and offers him a half amused smiled in silent apology. Getting her hint he huffs lightly and climbs out of the bed, reaching for the t-shirt on the chair. “Far be it from me to come between a couple o’ gals and their impromptu sleepover.” He leans down to kiss Natasha lightly on the cheek and winks kindly at Lila. “Toss me that blanket will you, Nat?” Once she obliges he inspects it and finds a blown up image covering the entire thing. “Beyoncé?” he asks, “she makes blankets?”
Natasha grins. “Apparently.”
He swipes a pillow and heads out with the intention of making his way downstairs to the leather couch in the living room.
“Where’re you going, uncle Bucky?”
He stops his hand on the door handle and turns around, flexing his metal arm for show. Natasha notices that it glistens even in the dim, yellow glow of the lamp. “I’m going to make sure no wolves get inside the house.”
Lila’s eyes widen in hope. “Really?”
“Really,” he says.
“Thank goodness for our knight in shining armour,” Natasha says, plainly pleased with herself for the pun. Lila giggles.
He debates tossing the pillow at her but decides that he needs it more to sleep comfortably, so he settles for a roll of his eyes and a slight shake of his head.
“Don’t worry, uncle Bucky. You don’t have to fight him too hard if he comes. You can get some sleep, too.”
He doesn’t quite see where the conversation is headed, so his look of confusion is genuine. “I can?”
“Yeah, if he comes upstairs, aunty Nat could probably kick his butt better than you.”
He grins broadly and looks at Natasha. “I’m pretty sure that’s true.”
“You could, right aunty Nat?”
She pulls back the covers and lets Lila crawl in. “You bet I could,” she says in mock seriousness.
Thoroughly reassured, Lila smiles and wraps her arms around Natasha’s waist and rests her head on the pillow.
“Goodnight, ladies.”
“Goodnight uncle Bucky,” they say in unison.
Natasha mouths an additional silent thank you to him as he shuts the door.
It isn’t very late, but it had been a long (albeit good) day. They’d gone down to the lake and had their fun of picnicking, tire swinging, swimming and sports. They’d driven home, eaten dinner and the kids had headed off to bed quick enough. Nathaniel had initially been difficult to put down (as he had decided on being particularly cranky) but by using the silence from the floor above as an indicator, Natasha had felt it safe to assume that the Barton children were currently fast asleep, and that the Barton adults had also decided to retire for the night.
She and James had offered to clear up the kitchen and dinner table, and once they’d done that they set themselves up in the living area to watch a movie. Unlike Steve, James had not been entirely isolated from the changes time had wrought upon the world: being brought out of cryo had not always been a quick affair, and once he’d been woken he’d sometimes be out for weeks, even months at a time. It was usually because they required his expertise throughout the entirety of the mission, from planning to clean up, or because the execution of the op itself was over a longer period of time - but it also happened when he’d been asleep and unused for long stretches and had missed important global developments: he’d often have be trained in new weapons and technology, and updated with enough history, politics, economics and social trends to allow him blend in. Any new or useful information he could learn for use in later missions was actively encouraged. Within reason, of course.
But, like Steve, there were gaps. He was a century old, and much of that time had been spent frozen, there were bound to be. Tonight she’d discovered that one of those gaps was having never seen The Godfather. After clean up, with the entire Barton family settled upstairs, Natasha had signed in to Clint’s Netflix account on his big screen TV and sat herself on the couch with James and a cup of peppermint tea.
They make it just past the wedding scene before Natasha’s hands begin to wander (she figures she can wait long enough for him to at least see one of the most iconic moments of the film). She’s leaning into him as they share the couch, his right arm draped lazily across her shoulders, so it’s easy for her to place her hand on his knee and slide it along to his inner thigh, and up. His eyes stay focused on the screen but his legs spread a little further apart and with a deep intake of breath he readjusts his sitting position on the couch to make himself more comfortable. He’s wearing jeans so the sensation of her hands on him is more muted than she’d like it to be. Her problem is she needs both hands to unbutton them, but her sitting position makes it awkward, and there’s no point in undoing the zipper with it still fastened since it would provide her with insufficient access to what she’s actually after. Fortunately, Natasha knows exactly how to resolve this.
Before James can process the change, he finds himself straddled by those infamous thighs of hers. She’s pinned him against the sofa and her hands are now able to explore him freely. She allows an experimental rotation of her hips and watches as his head tilts back, his eyes closing briefly with the sensation. She considers the advantages of her new seating arrangement and chooses to wrap one hand around the back of his neck, guiding him up for what turns out to be a surprisingly heated kiss considering they’ve only just started, while the other roams the ridges and planes of his hard torso, under his shirt. She uses her hips, and the softness in between her thighs, to stimulate the lower areas of his body. His moan of approval is muffled by the fact that her mouth is on his, but neither of them are complaining. His metal arm automatically slides down to her rear while his real hand threads through the hair at her nape and settles there, holding her body in place and leaving only her hips free to rub herself against him. The heat and friction her motions create make her wet as quickly as it turns him on.
James begins to move in the seat, and Natasha’s instincts tell her he’s probably going to lay her on the sofa, with him on top, so she pulls away before things get to a point where she’ll be unwilling to stop. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispers in his ear.
He nods, eyes glazed with a lust that’s been building since that first night when Lila interrupted them. He turns off the TV and follows her as she picks up the empty mug on the table, carrying it to the kitchen and placing it quickly in the dishwasher before turning it on. Unable to help himself he waits for her to turn around before pressing his body into hers, pushing her against the counter. They start kissing again and naturally his leg slides in between her thighs. She’s wearing a sundress, the heat and moisture of her want soaking through the thin lace of her underwear and he can almost feel it on his skin, under his jeans. It drives him crazy. He needs to get her upstairs quickly, or he’s taking her right there and then against the kitchen sink and he won’t give a damn if the whole Barton family comes down to watch.
He regrets that thought almost immediately as the cries of a miserable-sounding Nathaniel pierce through night. Both he and Natasha freeze, waiting with baited breath to hear whether the boy will settle back down. From the sound of it, however, James’ hopes sink fast. They can hear Laura’s footsteps as she makes her way to the toddler’s room and her subsequent hushed calling for her husband, though considering the noise Nate’s making, it’s wishful thinking to expect anyone to be sleeping at that point.
James pulls away from Natasha as he spots Clint coming down the stairs. “Is the kid ok?” he asks.
Clint’s rubbing one of his eyes with the palm of his hand and nods. “Yeah, kinda.” He walks towards them and opens up a cupboard. “He has a fever,” he says, pulling out the children’s Tylenol. “It’ll probably turn into a full blown cold by tomorrow.”
“You think it might be because he was playing in the lake for so long today?” Natasha asks, feeling somewhat guilty as she was the one who had taken him into the water. “It was a little chilly.”
Clint nods in agreement. “Don’t worry about it. He hasn’t been right all week, it’s been threatening to happen, anyway. There’s a virus going around the play school, it was only a matter of time. You guys head up to- hey, buddy.”
Cooper’s halfway down the stairs, his eyes groggy with sleep. “Is Nate sick?” he half asks, half mumbles.
“Looks like he’s getting a cold. Go back to bed, Coop.”
“Can I have some water first?”
“Sure,” Natasha says and gets him a glass. “Go help Laura, Clint. I’ll take care of Cooper.”
“Thanks, Nat,” he says and disappears upstairs.
James does not need to be a super-soldier to understand that sex tonight is quickly being shoved off the table. Between Nate letting everyone in the house know how sick he feels, and his girlfriend’s minor disappointment in herself for her part in the problem (even though Clint and Laura were fine with her taking Nate into the lake), he knows the mood is effectively being killed.
Then Lila comes downstairs and says that she can’t sleep, either. “Can we watch TV?” she asks, clearly pushing her luck.
“No,” James says with a slightly exasperated sigh, giving up any and all hope of salvaging the night for him and Natasha, “but I can read you a story.”
Lila’s eyes light up in that charming, innocent way they’ve always done when he does something to delight her and he can’t help the swell of happiness he feels at the sight. Or the strong sense of nostalgia it brings him. He was the eldest of four. The one they looked up to to make things ok. He’d spent his whole childhood taking care of kids, and he’d loved them as much as they had him. “That’s what I used to do when my siblings couldn’t fall asleep,” he says.
“Ok!” Lila races to the couch and sits herself there, ready. “Cooper has an iPad with a Kindle app,” she says, volunteering her brother’s stuff.
James pulls Natasha by the waist as he makes his way to the couch and gives her a light kiss on her forehead. “Looks like I’ll have to take you dancing another time, doll.”
“Promises, promises,” she says, following him.
“Don’t I always deliver?”
She smiles as she sits on the couch, Lila crawling over to her. “Always.”
He’s frustrated, as is Natasha he’s sure, but they did come to spend a week and a half with the Bartons.
“Sit here, uncle Bucky.” Lila exaggeratedly pats the empty seat in between her and Cooper, her smile gleeful at the prospect of being read a story.
We can have sex anytime, he tells himself, but getting the opportunity to pretend he’s just a normal guy, to play uncle to a couple of great kids? That’s a rare gift for someone in his line of work, and he knows full well that it’s not something which he can afford to take for granted.
Even though he has a dire case of the blue balls.
“So what’ll it be?” he asks.
“Daddy’s reading us ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’,” Lila informs them.
“He’ll probably want to finish it with you, then,” Natasha says gently, “how about something else?”
“‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’,” Cooper suggests, the same time as Lila asks for ‘The Hobbit’.
James hasn’t read either so he looks to Natasha for guidance. “What about The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe?” she offers, playing mediator. No-one has read it, save for her, so they all agree that this is a very good idea indeed. Cooper runs up to get his tablet before the four of them settle back down on the couch, James surrounded by the two kids, with Lila half sitting on Natasha’s lap.
Alright, Bucky admits to himself as he begins to read aloud, this is a pretty great way to spend an evening, too.
***
Nate is long settled back to sleep and James is coming towards the end of the third chapter when the two older Barton children begin to nod off. Clint comes down, as silent as ever, and smiles at the pseudo-nest on his couch. “Thanks, guys,” he whispers.
“No problem, how’s Nathaniel?” Natasha asks.
“He’s ok,” he replies with a warm smile. “We’ve put him in our bed to keep an eye on him, but it’s a mild fever. He should be fine.” He leans down and pulls Lila off of her lap. “Hey, Coop,” he says a little loudly, but James shakes his head.
“No need to wake him, I’ll carry him up.”
“Thanks.”
***
As they finally make it into bed James, who’s sitting up, turns to Natasha as she lays her head onto the pillow. “You mind if I keep the lamp on?” he asks, his cell phone in hand. “I wanted to read a few more chapters.”
“Of Narnia?” she asks, intrigued that he seems to be enjoying the children’s book so much. “Sure.”
The house is quiet with everyone having finally gone to sleep. “Becca would have loved something like this,” he reveals, hearing the curiosity in her voice.
Suddenly she understands. She slides over from where she’s laying and places a kiss on his bare hip. “Take as long as you’d like, I doubt anyone’s going to be up early anyway,” she says before returning to her original position and closing her eyes.
Laura’s just beginning to massage the herb-infused oil into the raw steaks when the landline rings. With a sigh she does her best to pick up the receiver using only her wrists and cradles the phone against her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
Hearing Clint’s voice she goes back to marinating the steaks. “Where are you?” she asks.
“I’m just about to leave town. I should be home in about an hour.”
Laura can hear him packing the groceries into the trunk. “That sounds perfect. Everything should be ready to cook by then.”
“They didn’t have the pear and almond tart, so I picked up a cherry pie.”
“That’ll do fine. Did you remember to get black garbage bags?”
“Aw, garbage bags,” he complains, having blatantly forgotten. “Alright, I’ll get ‘em now. Can you do me a favour and ask Nat or Barnes to fire up the barbecue in about forty five minutes?”
“I’ll try. They’ve gone out for a walk together.”
“Oh have they?” Clint’s tone is heavy with suggestion.
Laura smiles into the phone, her own answer equally laden with innuendo. “Oh yes.”
“Well I’m not going to wait for them to start barbecuing when I get home. They’ll smell the food and make their way back I’m sure.”
“I gotta go, hun, I’ve got raw meat and oil slathered all over my hands.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
Laura laughs. “I’ll see you at home. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” he says and then hangs up.
“Cooper!” She calls out, having a brain wave on how to replace the landline back onto the hook.
“Yeah, mom?” he yells back from his room upstairs.
She rolls her eyes. “Come down here!” Within seconds a one-person stampede descends and she wonders how it’s possible that he’s so heavy-footed when his father can walk quieter than a damn ninja.
“Here, hang up the phone for me, please.” She leans down for him to take it when he runs into the kitchen.
“I’m kinda hungry, can I have a snack?” he asks once he’s done as he’s told.
“Dad should be home in about an hour so I’d prefer it if you didn’t. We’re having steaks, I don’t want you to spoil your appetite.”
He thinks for a second. “Can I go outside, then?”
Laura nods. “As long as you’re back in time to help unload the car. I don’t want you venturing beyond the field, alright?”
“Uncle Bucky’s gone into the woods,” Cooper says excitedly as he dashes out of the house. “I’ll go ask him if he wants to play catch!”
“No, Cooper!” she calls out after him. “I just said not to go past the field!” She drops the raw meat she’s holding back onto the plate, but as she turns to go after him she knocks over the bottle of oil. With reflexes even Natasha would be proud of, she saves it from crashing onto the floor but it costs her valuable time. “Cooper! Get back here!” she yells as she rushes out onto the porch, but the boy’s already out of earshot.
From his place in the playpen Nathaniel begins to fuss, the two year old demanding attention - he’s still suffering from the tail-end of his cold, so his patience is even thinner than usual. For a few seconds she’s torn between the two boys, but Cooper’s already out of sight and she can tell from previous experience that if the youngest Barton is not dealt with soon, a full meltdown may well follow. She sighs and goes back inside. “Mama’s coming, hold on, Nate.” Well, she thinks, he’s seen horses do it so it shouldn’t be too shocking… he probably won’t even realise what’s going on.She even allows herself to hope that, being the super-spies that they are, they’ll probably hear him searching and get themselves in order before he finds them.
***
When Clint pulls up to the house in the pick up he immediately notices Natasha standing at the barbecue, beer in one hand, tongs in the other, and Bucky tossing a ball with Cooper and Lila.
Seeing his father arrive, Cooper abandons the game in order to help unload the vehicle. Clint meets his son with a smile, which broadens as Barnes approaches too. “Hey,” he greets. “Nat started the steaks?”
“About five minutes ago,” James confirms.
Clint nods, his smile still plastered to his face. “So I heard you two went for a walk.”
“Yeah.” With his metal arm he makes easy work of carrying the crate of goods.
“And Cooper went looking for you.” Clint looks down briefly at the boy in question, ruffling his hair with his free hand, the other carrying oversized cans of coffee as they make their way into the house. “Did he interrupt your, uh, ‘special judo training time’?”
Barnes offers him a smirk, hearing the implied question: ‘have you traumatised my ten year old son with your super-assassin boinking and am I going to have to talk to him about sexual intercourse?’ “We didn’t even get a chance to start before he found us,” he admits. “How do you and Laura ever get time to ‘practice’?”
Cooper looks up and answers in his father’s stead. “Mom and dad never do judo,” he says, confused as to why uncle Bucky would even think that they do.
Clint looks balefully at his son. “Thanks for that, buddy.”
“You wouldn’t have time, would you, dad?” He looks at his uncle Bucky to explain, “Mom’s really busy with Nate and her art and dad’s always going away for work.” Cooper’s mind whirs. If his parents are secretly going to judo classes, he wants to go, too. “I do karate after school, though,” he says, in an effort to impress. “And dad’s teaching me how to shoot arrows.”
“That’s-” Barnes gives Clint a shit-eating grin. “That’s great, kid,” he says as he unpacks the crate. “Though I’m sure you mom and dad must have had at least one judo session in the past three years.” He looks pointedly at an approaching Laura who’s holding both Nathaniel on her left hip and a large jug of lemon water in her right hand.
Clint silently flips him off when Cooper isn’t looking and Barnes’ grin reappears.
“You boys need to wash up, dinner’s almost ready,” Laura says. She frowns at Clint as he approaches her, noticing the seriousness in his eyes. “Is everything-” she’s cut off as he pulls her to him, baby and all, and presses his mouth against hers. She’s taken aback at the intensity of his action, but as his tongue tentatively brushes against hers lips her mouth instinctively opens and lets him in. He takes the opportunity and deepens the kiss, eliciting an involuntary little moan from her.
When he pulls away he takes in a breath to calm himself before he opens his eyes. The first thing he notices is that Laura’s mouth is tantalisingly flushed and her eyes are just a little glassy with desire (though mostly confusion). “What was that about?”
“Proving a point,” he says as he looks at Bucky before turning back to his wife, “and we’re totally judo-ing tonight.”
When she puts the pieces together she rolls her eyes. “Men,” she says, though she doesn’t contradict his last statement. She readjusts Nathaniel on her hip as she looks at Cooper, who is blatantly grossed out by his parents’ public display of affection. “Come on, Coop,” she says. She’d tap him playfully on the head if either of her hands were free, but the water jug is heavy and Nathaniel refuses to be put down, “help me finish setting the table outside.”
Bucky offers to take the child from Laura. “You want me to put him in the high chair?” he asks, still smiling at how easily it was to wind Clint up.
“Could you? Thanks,” she says as she gratefully passes him on.
“Sure.” He deliberately carries the boy like a sack of potatoes under his arm, making him giggle with delight. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you all strapped up.”
“Clint,” she calls as she makes her way outside with the others, “when you come out, can you bring the salad with you?”
“Sure, hun,” he says. “I’m just gonna change. I’ll be out in a minute.” He makes his way to the stairs but before he heads up he pauses, realising that everyone else is now outside. He takes advantage of the quiet and gazes through the window at his wife and eldest son as they set the picnic table by the barbecue, his heart swelling at the life he’s managed to somehow make. His attention eventually shifts, to the deadly Black Widow and cold Winter Soldier, a spy and a ghost, and the sight they are together makes him smile too: she’s flame-grilling steaks and roasting corn on the cob, Lila practically glued to her side, while secretly watching her boyfriend as he follows around a toddler who doesn’t want to sit still for dinner, a grin plastered to his usually serious face as Nathaniel struggles with the simple task of running without tripping over his own two feet. Domesticity suits them better than Clint ever realised it would.
He’ll talk to Laura about inviting them over for Thanksgiving, he thinks. Right after they judo tonight. If she’s not too tired, maybe they’ll even judo twice.
It’s late and everyone’s just managing to crawl into bed after a great big day and a long, adventurous evening. James is naked save for a pair of cotton boxer-briefs. Natasha has forgone clothing altogether in light of the impending heat and humidity of the mid-August night.
She sees his real arm is draped across his eyes, while his metal one idly scratches his chest. It’s an inviting sight. And she wants it, oh, does she want it, but just the thought of walking from the chest of drawers to the bed is enough to have her dizzy with exhaustion. She loves her godson and Cooper, and Lila best of all, but damn do they sap any and all energy out of a person. Missions are different, she’s trained for those, she has adrenaline to fuel her. The thrill of the hunt, the setting of her traps and the wait for them to spring keep her occupied during the long nights and tense days. Caring for people however, loving them as she does is a wholly separate, and far more taxing, endeavour. But she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Love. They’d tried to erase it from her. They’d tried to mould her into a creature of death and deceit, and although she could not deny them their success, they’d failed to break her fully. Because she does love. And so very deeply, too. With every fibre of her being she loves the unusual family she’s been blessed with: Clint is her brother in every way but blood, what matters to him will always matter to her, too, and the family he’s shared with her is worth more than all the stars in the sky.
Steve is her friend, their trust in each other absolute. He’s her moral compass and she would do anything he asked of her in a heartbeat.
James… she looks on, watching the steady rising and falling of his chest as he dozes, equally as drained as she is from the day’s events.
James is her home.
As if he somehow knows she’s thinking about him (his intuition kicking in and letting him know he’s being watched) he moves his arm and blinks the sleep away. Staring at her naked form he smiles. “God, you’re beautiful, you know that?”
It gives her enough motivation to make her way to the bed and lay next to him. She leans over and kisses him, softly, slowly, lovingly.
“Just…” he says, when she pulls away, “just crawl on top and have your way with me.”
“What?” she asks, and laughs at the absurdity of his statement. “I’m not even sure I have the ability to sit up.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as he struggles (poorly) to roll himself over, “you’re right, I shouldn’t make you do all the-” he yawns so widely his jaw clicks, “-the work. Just give me a second to… to…”
She runs her hand up and down his chest with lazy affection. “Let’s just do this in the morning, I’m beat.”
He grins, so grateful to have her, and half-rolls over to kiss her. “This is why I love you.”
They don’t even make it fully under the covers before they’re both out like lights.
***
The next morning the kids wake up early and knock, asking the couple through the door if they’ll help make mommy and daddy surprise pancakes. Natasha rolls her eyes and huffs lightly. If they’d asked them to make eggs or pop tarts she might have had a fighting chance to keep James in bed with her, but they’d unwittingly stumbled upon one of his most powerful weaknesses. “Give me a sec,” she says as she watches him sit up and reach for his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, “let me get dressed and I’ll come, too.”
He kisses her and presses his forehead briefly against hers. “Stay,” he says, “I can take care of this.”
She smiles indulgently. “I don’t mind, I like watching you flip pancakes.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“Mmm,” she purrs and kisses him again. “Yes you are.”
She gets up and dresses before heading downstairs with him, secretly bringing her phone down with her to take photographs with.
“I’m sorry, you know I like to take my time, but-” he’s frantic with his belt buckle, his fingers made clumsy with lust he as struggles with the button to his jeans, “it’s been over a week of teasing and almosts. I-”
“Less talk, more action.” Her top long gone, she’s already tossed aside her boots in order to better remove her pants. “I don’t know how much time we have and we might not get this opportunity again.” Her underwear is dispatched in the same fluid motion as her skinny jeans, his grip on them sure and strong as she reaches back to hold the tractor, anchoring herself in place so that she’s not pulled along with the force of it. Once he’s thrown them behind him she goes after his mouth. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s a smashing together of lips, of grazing teeth and tongues dancing as he picks her up with his metal arm and her bare legs wrap around his waist.
The opportunity had come unexpectedly, and they’d almost not noticed it. Clint had taken taken Lila with him to town and Cooper was at the neighbour’s house. Nate was down for a nap and Laura was on the phone with a potential client of hers. The potatoes had been peeled, the garlic crushed. There had been nothing else for James or Natasha to do. The realisation had bashed them over their heads like a proverbial ball-peen hammer. “Barn,” James had said, hoarsely, just as Natasha had gotten up to lead the way, practically sprinting out of the house.
He has the presence of mind to move from the tractor and pin her against the stack of hay bales for leverage, his metal arm holding her up - so that once he starts thrusting she’s not banging her back against protruding metal parts - but that’s about as far as his brain can process beyond the desperate need he has to be inside her. He wants to tell her, he wants to let her know that he thinks she’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him, that he’s convinced being with her is the closest thing he’ll ever get to whatever Heaven is, but her hot mouth sears his, her nails raking their way across sensitive flesh, and he can feel the slick heat of her on his skin. He’s hard, so hard it hurts, but he holds himself steady, and slides himself once, twice along her wet folds, coating her with his pre-cum before pushing in, blissfully, deliberately, tortuously controlled and not in the frantic mess he wants it to be. He shudders with the sensation, the feel of his entire being wrapped up in soft, warm flesh as she gasps loudly with the pleasure of him filling her. He draws himself out, just until all that’s still touching her is the tip, only to thrust back in again, hard. She grunts at the force of it, at the thrilling shock which suddenly courses through her body, and holds him tighter. He has to wait a few seconds, gathering his wits, calming himself because the sensation is so overwhelming he might just come in her right then. Her lips are on his neck, her breasts pressed against him, and with her legs trapping him in her embrace he’s utterly ensnared by Natasha. As if she knows what he’s thinking she lifts her head and brings him in for another kiss. It’s heady and passionate and it gets him high with everything that she is. She moans involuntarily, her smooth skin scratched by the hay in the bales at her back, her weight supported entirely by his arm. He’s unflinching and devoted utterly to her, his heart in her hands and she feels the weight and privilege of it down to her very soul. “<I love you,>” she whispers in Russian against his ear, “<I love you and I need you to fuck me, now.>”
He groans in blissful agony. “You’ll be the death of me Natalia Romanova, but I’ll dance happily all the way down to the grave,” and it’s enough to start him moving again. He thrusts into her, and then does it again, and again, faster, increasing his pace, moving with her as she shoves her own hips forward to meet his rhythm. His arm grapples against the hay for support, but even the grip of his real hand is too strong and it sinks in. Without a moment’s thought he topples the stack and drops her across the bottom one, with him standing in between her legs. He grips her hips for stability and slams into her, his eyes wide open as Natasha’s screw shut, drinking in the view of her whole body jerking with his movements. With every thrust, with every push into her he has to hold himself back, because he’s already losing control again, and even though there’s no telling how much time they have, he’s at least got to let her come first. As for Natasha she has both hands on her breasts, cupping them with deft fingers, but she’s not satisfied and it’s obvious she wants more. One of her hands flies down and roughly begins to massage her clit. As she does her breath hitches in her throat, low-pitched whines which beg for her release, it’s a broken, disjointed noise, clipped by the movements of her body, the pressure she’s building within herself threatening to burst out. She takes her hand away and instead hooks the heels of her feet together behind James’ hips and uses her knees to pull him down on top of her.
He stumbles onto her and she takes the opportunity to grab his hair and bring him to her face, kissing him again with an excited moan. The weight of both of them, and the force of his topple onto her, has them both slipping off the side of the bale and landing hard onto the floor.
Natasha uses the momentum to roll him onto his back and presses her hands into his chest as she begins to ride him in her new position, the angle hitting her in such a perfect spot that she can’t help but speed up the pace. James does his best to accommodate her, rotating his hips to hit her deeper, his fingers bruising into the skin of her waist as he anchors her onto him.
“James-” she whispers, her voice desperate. “James… I’m-” she can’t get the words out, but he can see it. He knows, he feels it, and he’s losing it himself, but he won’t. He won’t until she does. And Natasha’s so close. So close she’s practically there. Her body’s operating entirely on instinct, seeking that heat, frantically chasing that satisfaction to her need. Her head drops as a guttural plea escapes her, high and tight. She raises herself and slams back down one more time before pushing off his chest, her back arching and her head thrown back with the force of her orgasm.
He waits, excruciatingly, for her to climb down off of her high before he takes her, one hand by the waist, the other by the shoulder, and flips her over, landing on top. She grins like the cat who’s caught the canary and lifts her head to meet his in a heated kiss. He breaks it and licks the crook of her neck, making her shiver, tasting the warmth and salt of her skin, before sucking on her breasts, his teeth grazing across her now sensitive nipples, having her hissing. At the sound he begins to thrust into her again, and this time he’s not holding back. His movements aren’t rhythmic, they’re out of sync, his brain shut off in favour of his body’s screaming demands. All they can do is hold on to each other, her cries in his ear climbing higher and higher in pitch at they both come closer to orgasm, friction building blissful heat between them despite the slickness of their bodies, and it pushes him further into the sweet nothingness of oblivion. His head buries itself in the curve of her neck, he’s aware enough to use his metal arm as support for his body weight, but his real hand grips her hip so hard his fingers are numb, keeping her anchored to him. Nothing escapes his mouth aside from incoherent nonsense, sounds born out of his desperate race towards release. The warmth rolls through him so quickly it transforms into a rushing tide of blazing, paralytic heat, freezing him on impact. He cries out just as she does, and then collapses on her, utterly spent.
It takes them a good few seconds to catch their breaths, but eventually he slides to her side and with an exhausted huff he begins to laugh a little. Natasha soon joins in, giddy with elation, her smile beautiful and wide, and as he looks over to see it his heart constricts in his chest. The flush of her skin, the joy in her eyes, her swollen, red lips: there are several perfect moments that James has experienced with Natalia, but he decides that this one will be one of his favourites.
“We have to get up,” she says eventually, despite her reluctance to break the spell. He nods in agreement, though he takes her hand first and kisses the back of it.
***
They’re at the dinner table, and Natasha does her best not to seem as ravenous as she feels. Looking across the table she can clearly see James is feeling the same, though considering the sheer amount of mashed potato he’s piling onto his plate he’s doing much less to hide his hunger. “S’is fantastic, Laura,” he says in between his shovelling mouthfuls of chicken and vegetables. “I’m going to miss this once we’re back in New York.”
Laura’s grin is a mile wide, and it doesn’t escape Natasha’s notice that she keeps exchanging little amused glances with Clint. “That’s very kind to say, I hope you’ve been enjoying your time here.”
“It’s been amazing, thank you guys for having me.”
Clint smirks but James doesn’t see because he’s facing Laura. Natasha kicks him silently under the table, having guessed what’s going on (they had tried to be discreet, really they had, but it was difficult for a couple to be inconspicuous while exiting a barn in a much more dishevelled state than when they’d first entered it. Laura must have figured out what happened and told Clint). He simply wiggles his eyebrows twice and hides his smug grin behind a glass of homemade lemonade. She flicks a pea at him.
“Aunty Nat, are you leaving soon?”
“Day after tomorrow, sweetheart,” she says, masking her half-amused glare with soft sympathy as she turns away from Clint and puts a delicate hand on the little girl’s back.
Lila’s plainly disappointed. “Will you come see my play at Thanksgiving?”
“I’ll definitely try.” It’s as close to a ‘yes’ as she can give, but Lila’s more than used to those kinds of responses and is satisfied enough to go back to her carrots.
“Uncle Bucky,” Cooper says, focusing the whole table’s attention onto him, “how come you have hay in your hair? Were you playing in the barn?”
Clint snorts into his drink and Laura loses it, cracking up with delight.
As James struggles to answer, his own smile creeping onto his face, Natasha can’t help but laugh too.