She knows she technically doesn't need to do honey traps anymore, she knows she doesn't need to seduce her way through a mission when the mark makes her skin crawl and all she wants to do is punch him in the throat.
But sometimes it's easier to batter her lashes and pretend she's interested just to avoid bloodshed.
It's the aftermath that she hates, aroused yet sickened. She spends hours in the shower scrubbing herself down, every trail of heat the mark left on her skin was scrubbed clean until there's nothing but red marks on pale skin. Then comes the frustration, it's not pleasurable, she doesn't take pleasure from a mark with wandering hands and to her sex is a weapon.
Hand pressed flat against the tiled wall, legs half parted with her other hand buried between them and breath stuttering. She does hear him coming but he's seen her in worse states than this and she really needs to let off some steam, she needs this.
"It's not in here-" A pause for her to catch her breath, "I put it in your bag." Her eyes are blown, fixed on him through the smeared glass pane. It's so many shades of wrong, but it was him who walked in on her, and Natasha likes to finish something she's started one way or another. "You're staring at me, I should charge."
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But sometimes it's easier to batter her lashes and pretend she's interested just to avoid bloodshed.
It's the aftermath that she hates, aroused yet sickened. She spends hours in the shower scrubbing herself down, every trail of heat the mark left on her skin was scrubbed clean until there's nothing but red marks on pale skin. Then comes the frustration, it's not pleasurable, she doesn't take pleasure from a mark with wandering hands and to her sex is a weapon.
Hand pressed flat against the tiled wall, legs half parted with her other hand buried between them and breath stuttering. She does hear him coming but he's seen her in worse states than this and she really needs to let off some steam, she needs this.
"It's not in here-" A pause for her to catch her breath, "I put it in your bag." Her eyes are blown, fixed on him through the smeared glass pane. It's so many shades of wrong, but it was him who walked in on her, and Natasha likes to finish something she's started one way or another. "You're staring at me, I should charge."