Darcy doesn’t know Natasha Romanov very well.

It’s not as though they’re in the wrong circles- Darcy’s fast friends with Clint, and over the years has warmed to Phil (despite Jane’s misgivings)- but Natasha has always remained a slightly aloof presence. Mildly terrifying and terrifyingly beautiful, she drifts through her life like a basking shark, circling but never drawing in for the kill.

Of course, that doesn’t stop Darcy from admiring the woman; especially tonight, watching with appreciation as the older woman decks a man twice her size for an unfortunately-made comment about Darcy’s breasts.

“Apologise,” the redhead hisses, foot pressing against the idiot’s neck. The man splutters, turning red. At the other end of the open air bar, Thor stands and their friends’ conversation falls deathly silent as they start to realise something has happened.

“Fuck you, bitch,” the idiot splutters. Natasha’s foot presses down a little harder.

“Lewis is a Class A hunter and she could tear you in two without breaking a sweat,” she smiles down at him coldly as Darcy blinks in surprise. “But I tell you what, it’s her birthday today, and I’m feeling generous. So I’m going to tell you one more time, before I invite her friends to come and give her a present she’s unlikely to forget.”

Thor joins them, looming over Natasha and the guy with a thunderous expression. “Natasha,” he says lowly, “has this man wronged you?”

“I’m sorry!” the man blurts out, panicky as his eyes swing from Natasha to Thor and Darcy and back to Natasha again. “I’m sorry- I take it back!”

Natasha’s smile widens, all teeth. “I think we’re alright, Thor,” she says coolly. “Shit-For-Brains here was just telling Darcy a happy birthday, isn’t that right?”

He nods quickly and Natasha removes her foot slowly. “Wonderful! Now, fuck off.”

The guy scrambles to his feet and disappears. Natasha and Thor watch him leave with terrifyingly cold eyes, but Darcy’s gaze is focussed on her White Knight.

“Darcy,” Thor rumbles and she starts slightly, “are you well?”

She grins at him, apparently unaffected. “Yeah, big guy, we’re good. Don’t you worry about me.”

He nods slowly, apparently satisfied, and she shoos him back to his seat beside Jane. It may be her birthday, but they just got back yesterday from a month-long hunt, and she knows how fond he is of Clint and Phil.

 “Well, thanks,” she drawls as soon as their friend is out of earshot. Natasha’s gaze hasn’t left her since she let the asshole go. Darcy leans against the bar, one foot crossed over the other. A picture of feigned casualness. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on my life.”

The corner of her lips twitch and she tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome.”

“I could have schooled him myself,” Darcy murmurs, just to be sure.

Natasha shrugs. “I know… think of it as a gift.”

“Not the only one, I hope.”

She tilts her head, studying Darcy intently and she bears it with a slow smile. “It might not be… if that’s what you were looking for.”

“Can I get you a drink?” Darcy lets her eyes drag up and down the other woman’s form, because hell yes. “As thanks?”

Natasha blinks, slow and catlike. She takes a step towards Darcy, eyes growing dark as she licks her lips in anticipation. It is on. “We both know the drinks here taste like mouthwash gone bad,” she purrs, and really a statement like that should not sound so hot. “Why waste our time with drinks when I could fuck you sober?”

Darcy grins widely, laughing straight from the gut as something inside her flips with excitement. “Well, when you put it like that.”

She takes Natasha’s hand when she offers it, and lets her drag Darcy out of the bar. She laughs again when Clint makes a lewd gesture at the pair of them and Thor and Jane whoop lough and drunkenly. Natasha’s hand is soft yet callused; her fingers cool and dry. She pulls Darcy into the shadowed alcove down the side of the bar, and Darcy gasps in delight when the older woman slams her up against the wall, small hands going for her waist as lips press against Darcy’s, hot and insistent.

Darcy makes a soft sound from the back of her throat, gut swooping at the contact and Natasha slants her head, a hand rising to brush her hair back from Darcy’s face.

“Is this the kind of birthday present you were hoping for, Принцесса?” she breathes, pulling back just far enough that her lips brush against Darcy with every second word.

Darcy makes another semi-embarrassing sound, and surges forwards, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and squeezing when the woman bites her lip in retaliation. Darcy moans against the tongue pressing against the seam of her lips and lets Natasha take what she wants. She tastes like the sharp kick of moonshine and the pudding they had for dessert and Darcy chases the taste when Natasha pulls back again to nip at the soft skin of her neck. She gasps at the brief lick of pain.

“I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes,” Darcy replies breathily, leaning her head against the rough brick whilst Natasha sucks a hickie over the tendons of her neck in reward.

“Yours or mine?”

Darcy tangles her fingers into the hairs at the nape of the redhead’s neck. A cool hand creeps beneath her shirt, skirting over her ribs in a very distracting way. Darcy hums and smiles up at the clear night sky, admiring the way their breath turns to mist in the cold night air.

A light poke to her side brings her back to the present, and she blinks owlishly at Natasha. “Uh- what?”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but the smirk on her lips tells a different story. “Your place, or mine?”

Darcy blinks at her, still feeling a little out of it with the other woman’s hand settling on her ribcage, the other lightly stroking the skin just below her lips. “I don’t really have ‘a place’, so… yours?”

Natasha huffs a laugh, breath misting, and draws Darcy in for another heated kiss that lasts a touch too long, considering their location. “Mine then,” she hums when they finally break. She sounds slightly winded and Darcy’s blood sings to know that she’s responsible for that. Darcy nods rapidly. 

“Sounds like a plan,” she breathes, and Natasha extricates herself. Darcy mourns the loss a little, but the older woman simply takes her hand again and leads her back to the little two bedroom house she shares with Clint and Phil. It’s nothing special- she’s been there before- with minimal decorations and aging furniture, but considering the kind of accommodation Darcy is used to, it’s practically a palace.

Especially when Natasha kicks open the door to her bedroom, a hand on Darcy’s ass as she leans heavily into the redhead, leg pressed between Natasha’s and spies the double bed.

It’s so beautiful the sight could almost make her weep.

“I’m sorry, Natasha,” she says as seriously as she can when there are cool fingers dipping just below the fabric of her jeans, “but I think I’m going to have to leave you for your bed.”

Natasha smirks, wicked and dirty and grinds hard against her thigh, hot flesh making Darcy’s mouth go dry with excitement. “We can’t share?”

Darcy makes a show of studying the bed, frowning thoughtfully. It’s been an age since she’s managed to sleep in one; most times the larger bed goes to Thor and Jane when they’re in the settlements, with Darcy taking the floor or one of the shared dorms. “I suppose it’s big enough for two,” she says grudgingly, and Natasha grins, leaning in close to suck another love bite to Darcy’s neck. She sighs happily at the contact. It’s been too long since she last had a shag.

“Good,” the redhead hums and rubs against her some more, “because I wasn’t exactly planning to fuck you on the floor, Принцесса. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Darcy laughs breathily, heart beat strong enough to drive her half insane. “Lucky me.”

“Mm,” Natasha replies absently, kissing up her neck to bite lightly on her earlobe. Darcy whimpers as she gives a full-on body shiver. The woman laughs softly, breath hot and she shivers again. “Lucky you.”

Darcy sighs happily and pulls away to shrug off her button down that has inexplicably come undone without her notice. Natasha has tricky fingers, apparently. “Happy birthday to me.”

Natasha leans casually against the wall, warm gaze passing over Darcy and lingering appreciatively on her breasts. She twirls when the woman motions with her fingers, lust and anticipation making her nerves burn bright and hot. “You’re beautiful,” Natasha murmurs, pupils so dilated her eyes look black. Otherworldly. Darcy laughs at the compliment and reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, only to be stopped by Natasha, moving in close and stealing her breath away with a dirty kiss, tongue running across her teeth in a way that makes her legs feel like jelly.

Her hands creep up, open-palmed and sure, pressing them together hip to hip and she deftly undoes the clasps, pulling the straps off her shoulders one by one, apparently content with kissing Darcy like it’s their last day on Earth. By the time her bra finally falls to the floor, Darcy is half delirious with want and need.

As though sensing her mood, Natasha moves back, hands resting on her waist and finally- finally- pushing her through the threshold of her room. The door slams loudly behind them. Natasha’s smile is slow and wicked; lips red and slightly swollen, pupils blown out wide and red hair a vivid mess. Darcy backs away until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the wonderful- glorious- bed and Natasha pushes her down with a commanding hand.

She crawls over her immediately, straddling Darcy and firmly sitting over her hips. Darcy pouts up at her playfully. “You’re still clothed,” she complains and runs a hand up the warm skin of Natasha’s back, clothes rustling softly. “Don’t you wanna get down to your birthday suit?”

Natasha rolls her eyes at the awful pun, but pulls off her shirt anyway. Darcy groans in frustration at the sight of the black camisole. “It’s not my birthday.”

Darcy groans again, and hides her face with her free hand. “Oh man, I thought mine was bad.”

She snickers, pulling Darcy’s hand away to kiss her again. ‘You asked for it,” Natasha smiles against her lips and moves down, trailing kisses across her heated skin. Darcy gasps, body jerking as fingers that are still yet to warm pluck lightly at her nipples, her other hand massaging the soft flesh with a confident touch.

Natasha watches her writhe against the attention with an intent expression and Darcy lets herself get vocal when Natasha touches her with a little more strength, just the way she likes, back arching.

“For the love of- ah- God, would you get your mouth on me?” she moans, stuttering at the maddening coolness of her fingers that sends goosebumps across her skin, muscles twitching. Natasha laughs throatily and leans forward to kiss her, slow and languid. Darcy makes a soft sound of dissatisfaction and bucks her hips, trying without luck to find some kind of relief for the growing heat between her legs. The redhead chuckles again and pulls back.

“Pushy, aren’t you?”

“It’s my birthday!” You promised me a gift.”

She hides her chuckle against the skin of Darcy’s collarbone, nipping lightly in admonishment at the same moment she tweaks on of her sensitised nipples and Darcy cries out at the sensation. “I promised you nothing.”

She laughs breathily up at the ceiling. “You’re right. But you’re going to give me one- hng- anyway.”

Darcy can feel the vibrations of Natasha’s soft snicker against her throat, hot breath making the hands resting over Natasha’s thighs twitch and move upwards. “Not with an attitude like that, Принцесса.”

She groans when Natasha gently removes her hands from where they’d been creeping up her camisole. “I’ll be good. I promise!”

“We’ll see.”

She smiles innocently up at the older woman, letting her arms rest outstretched on the bed in a sign of good faith. “I swear,” she promises in the most guileless voice she can muster, eyelashes fluttering for good measure.

Natasha breathes out slowly, hands cupping Darcy’s breasts and she fights against the urge to arc up into the touch. The redhead nods in satisfaction and Darcy sighs in relief when she curls forwards, mouth latching over her left breast and flicking her nipple with her tongue. The sound that escapes Darcy is positively filthy and she truly hopes Clint and Phil don’t return any time soon.

She whimpers shamelessly when Natasha blows on the sensitive skin, the shift in temperature causing her hips to twitch again.

“Please-” she begs, not entirely sure what she’s asking for, but Natasha must understand her anyway, because she moves off her, one knee planting itself one the bed between Darcy’s thighs. Darcy breathes out heavily and grinds up against her leg and she keens at the pleasure that makes her toes curl.

“Good?” Natasha asks carefully, even as she shifts and mouths at her breasts, sucking love bites into her pale skin. Darcy whimpers at the dual sensation and nods quickly, hands clutching at the soft cotton bedsheets.

“Fan- hnn- fucking-tastic.”

She smirks up at her and Darcy whines pitifully as nimble fingers work at the button and fly of her jeans. She grumbles when the leg between hers disappears, but helps Natasha pull her jeans and underwear off. They hit a light snag at her boots, but are quick to remove them and before too long Darcy is lying naked and exposed on Natasha’s hard mattress.

(Fanart by fantastically talented acidarrowguy)

Her fingers twitch in the sheets, breath coming in short, sharp gasps; the only sign of her sudden nervousness. Natasha is a warm presence above her, and the sensation of Darcy’s bare skin against her clothes feels divine, but the fact remains that Darcy is completely naked whilst Natasha is still fully clothed. She tugs insistently at the hem of the camisole, knuckles brushing against her skin as Natasha leans back over her to steal another kiss.

 “Off,” she demands into Natasha’s mouth and the woman complies, hands trailing over her breasts and down to her waist and hips as she leaves. Darcy watches avidly, the redhead’s lithe body a graceful curve of pale skin and wiry muscles as she pulls the garment off. Darcy’s breath catches in her throat at the expanse of flesh, littered with scars that must tell one hell of a story. The black ink on her arms- hunting runes- stand out in stark contrast to her pale skin, so rich a black it’s like staring at a Shade itself.

She smiles brightly when Natasha’s arms twist behind to remove her bra- a simple blue thing- cuter than Darcy would have expected. Natasha blinks at her slowly, looking somewhat taken aback and Darcy’s smile turns unsure before she’s smiling back- small but sincere.

Natasha moves back to the bed, slotting herself between Darcy’s legs and leaning over her to give her a filthy kiss, full of teeth and tongues. She moves down, pressing kisses across Darcy’s throat, lingers at her breasts and then down, further, crouching between Darcy’s legs and something tightens in her stomach as the exposure.

She holds herself up on her elbows- chest heaving- and watches the redhead run her tongue over her stomach and bite at her hipbone. Her hips twitch, her sex a throbbing ache from the lack of attention. Natasha’s head moves down further, bypassing the place where Darcy wants it most, a hot tongue laving at the inside of her thighs and her muscles twitch again.

“Please,” she breathes, unable to help herself. “Please, please, please, Natasha!”

Mouth hidden from view against her thigh, Natasha’s eyes crinkle in a smile and- wordless- one of her hands rises to part her labia. Darcy whimpers, but doesn’t look away when Natasha licks a broad stripe up her pussy.

“Oh shit,” she curses as the woman’s tongue flicks her clit once- twice- and her head tilts back to stare at the peeling paint on the ceiling.

Natasha works at her slowly, but with a commitment Darcy admires and she lets the woman know it vocally, the room filling with filthy sounds and desperate gasps and moans and murmured ‘just there’ and ‘don’t stop’ and ‘more, please’.

She cries out when Natasha slips a finger inside her, hips bucking despite her best efforts. Natasha shoots her a glare through mussed up hair, red strands strewn over the milky skin of Darcy’s thigh like threads of copper. Darcy sighs and runs a hand through her soft hair and Natasha’s eyes close in approval.

“Can I…?”

Natasha hums in answer and Darcy breathes out heavily at the vibration against her clit. She wraps a hand into the woman’s short hair, tugging her impossibly closer and Natasha lifts her leg with her free hand to rest it over her shoulder. Darcy whines when the finger inside her begins thrusting, hand squeezing spasmodically at her hair. Natasha hums again, eyes closed and Darcy pulls a little harder when a second finger nudges its way inside. Darcy breathes out slowly, savouring the slight stretch.

She seems to work at Darcy for an age, technique always changing whenever she senses Darcy growing close, fingers brushing endlessly against that spot inside her that sends shivers down her spine and makes her skin feel tight and overheated. Darcy plays with her breasts with her free hand, kneading and plucking at the soft flesh, back arching occasionally when the shivers become almost overwhelming.

It takes her longer than it should to realise Natasha is watching her with eyes black with lust and Darcy grins down at her.

“Hi,” she rasps, touching herself with a little more showmanship than before. Natasha flicks rapidly at her clit and inserts a third finger inside her in retaliation and Darcy keens at the stretch. She loses track of what she’s meant to be doing as the redhead begins pumping in earnest, the warmth inside her growing, and feels the tingling down her legs that signals her impending orgasm.

“Na- oh shit-Tasha,” she gasps, hands clenching as her body curls upwards and the hunter increases her pace and the pressure inside Darcy grows. “Oh fuck,” Darcy tweaks her nipple roughly, just as her orgasm breaks over her. She cries out, head falling back to the bed as her hips twitch uncontrollably, held down by the wiry strength of Natasha. Her toes and fingers tingle as wave after wave passes through her. It subsides quickly and she whimpers as Natasha gentles her touch, suckling on her clit as Darcy rides the last of it, muscles still twitching.

“Tasha,” she whines when the touch becomes too much and Natasha follows her hand, still wrapped in her hair as though the woman will float away.

Or maybe, Darcy thinks, feeling lightheaded and floaty and unbelievably pleased, it’s because she worries she might just float the fuck away.

Natasha smiles as she slowly removes her fingers from Darcy and her sex aches at the loss. The lower half of Natasha’s face shines wetly and she wipes away Darcy’s slick with the back of her hand, looking disgustingly smug. Darcy giggles- slightly hysterically- at the sight of the woman- usually so regal and poised- looking so thoroughly debauched and pulls her back up, kissing her with a fervour and huffing a laugh at the taste of herself on the other woman’s tongue.

She runs her hands down the skin of Natasha’s back and growls angrily when she realises she’s still wearing jeans. “How are you still clothed?” Darcy whines, and fumbles with her buttons, sighing in relief when they come undone easily enough. “Off,” she orders, only half regretting it when Natasha withdraws, standing at the edge of the bed.

“Are you always this pushy post-orgasm?”

“Only when my partner’s still got their fucking kit on.”

“Well you’re welcome,” Natasha snickers and shucks off her jeans. Darcy’s sex throbs half-heartedly at the sight of her, naked but for her plain cotton panties and she scrambles up the bed to distract herself from the sensation, knowing it’s still too soon.

“Thank-you for the orgasm,” she replies dutifully, “You are a goddess and I would very much like to have you back here so I can get my filthy mitts all over you.”

Natasha bites her lip, eyes crinkling in amusement. “You know how to charm a girl.”

“That’s not the only thing I know how to do.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at Darcy’s accompanying grabby hands. Elegant fingers slip beneath the simple cotton, working the panties over her hips and letting them fall to the floor. Darcy sighs happily, drinking in her graceful form and the light thatch of hair between her legs.

“Where do you want me?” she asks, posing inelegantly on the hard mattress. Natasha looks torn and Darcy marvels inwardly at her score. She’s always been somewhat intimidated by the largely impassive woman, but if she’s learnt anything tonight, it’s that it’s only a mask; her face far more expressive when hidden in the shelter of her own home. Darcy feels honoured and humbled all at once, to be privy to the attentions of such a private woman.

“We have all night,” Darcy murmurs, smiling softly up at the redhead. Natasha crawls across the bed and lies beside her, and Darcy turns on her side to face her. She looks thoughtful as she rolls one of Darcy’s nipples between her index and middle finger and Darcy makes a high-pitched sound at the feeling on her too-tight flesh. Natasha kisses her softly in apology and allows Darcy to finally return the favour in earnest.

She toys with Natasha’s breasts- smaller than Darcy’s but no less lovely, and Natasha sighs contentedly, a hand curling into the back of Darcy’s hair as she kisses her slowly. Darcy smiles when an idea occurs to her and she pulls back, hand flattening over the woman’s chest.

“Turn around?” she asks quietly. Natasha is silent for a long moment before she nods once and turns. Darcy casts a hand reverently down her side and scoots up close, pressing herself up along the back of the redhead and resting her head in the crook of her neck.

“Is this okay?” she murmurs against her ear and Natasha shudders. Pressed this close Darcy can feel the way her breath catches, curling backwards into her embrace.

“Perfect,” she hums, and Darcy smiles, sucking a love bite into her skin as her free hand creeps south. She passes over her belly, fingers catching on the smooth and slightly hardened scar tissue on her hip. Natasha breathes out, long and slow, when her fingers travel to the space between her legs and she tilts her body, leaning further into Darcy and spreading her legs slightly so Darcy can touch her easily.

Natasha’s sex is hot and wet and Darcy’s fingers glide easily over her. She smiles against Natasha’s neck when she finds her clit and circles it with a gentle pressure. The hunter gasps, a hand reaching down to guide Darcy, showing her exactly what she likes.

Darcy follows her wordless instructions faithfully, circling her inner lips slowly, and dipping two fingers insider her to curl up against her g-spot before rising to rub her clit with a steady pressure. She alternates and watches, enthralled, as Natasha slowly comes undone; far less vocal than Darcy, but the evidence is there in the helpless cant of her hips and curling fingers and soundless gasps.

Darcy takes the time to commit the moment to memory, unsure if she’ll ever get a repeat performance but fiercely hoping that she will. Natasha’s hand- done now with guiding her- reaches behind to clutch at Darcy’s hip, head resting somewhat awkwardly against her shoulder. Her chest heaves as she gasps out a strangled ‘harder’ and Darcy complies, increasing the force slightly on her clit.

Natasha comes with the softest of stuttering moans; body locking up and fingers tightening into the flesh of Darcy’s hip. She continues her attentions, watching with fascination as goosebumps erupt across Natasha’s chest, nipples turning hard again.

“Enough,” Natasha breathes eventually and Darcy removes her hand mournfully, though she smiles when Natasha twines her fingers through hers, apparently uncaring about the mess.

“The rest of the night, you said?”

Darcy chuckles and squeezes their entwined fingers. “I’ve got nowhere to be,” she murmurs against her neck and Natasha shudders. Something inside Darcy crows at the reaction, unbearably smug.

Natasha sighs and somehow manages to manoeuvre the blankets resting at the foot of her bed up to cover their legs. It’s a cold night, but their skin feels pleasantly warm against the cold air; for now.

“I’m not-” Natasha says suddenly into the quiet of the room, sounding almost unsure, “I’m not looking for an… attachment.”

Something in Darcy’s chest loosens at the admission and she buries her face into the hot skin of Natasha’s neck, hair tickling her nose. She smells like the rosemary soap most residents of New Triskelion favour. “Good,” she breathes in relief. Attachments- regardless of how happy Jane and Thor are- are a weakness in their business, and Darcy’s perfectly happy remaining a free agent. “Neither am I.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a repeat, though.”

She laughs softly. “Fuck buddies?”

Natasha turns around to face her and Darcy runs a slightly sticky hand up the curve of her side, tugging the woman closer just because she can. “Fuck buddies sounds perfect, Принцесса.”

“Awesome,” Darcy sighs, pleased with her score for the night. “Now, do you reckon we could fit a nap in, before I get you to sit on my face?’

Natasha laughs, somewhat startled. “If that’s what you want, birthday girl. You won’t see me complaining.”

Darcy chuckles softly and shuffles slightly down the bed so she can easily bury her face between Natasha’s breasts. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”