Archive of Our Own

The first time Natasha Romanoff has sex with Bruce Banner, even she doesn't see it coming. 

Tony decided to throw a ridiculously grand party on the rooftop of the newly dubbed Avengers Tower, and he had insisted that every Avenger be there. And since even Thor has managed to make it back to Midgard for the event, when Clint insists for the ninth time that she has to be there, she agrees to go with him. 

She spends the first fifty minutes with him, sipping champagne and rolling her eyes at his terrible jokes. But then Clint gets caught up in conversation with Stark, which she has absolutely zero interest in, so she wanders over to the bar for more alcohol. 

Enter Bruce Banner. 

He's sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, engaged in conversation with Jane Foster. Which, she realizes, makes sense. He and Thor's girlfriend probably would get along, sharing a mind and a passion for the hard sciences. 

Natasha approaches and heads behind the bar. Tony hadn't bothered to hire a bartender, knowing a group of former field agents and soldiers were unlikely to trust a bartender to make their drinks, even if vetted by Stark himself. 

"Hey Natasha," Jane smiles, and Natasha smiles back, even though they have met exactly once, over a year ago. 

The woman has always been nothing but kind to her, which is more than she would normally expect from a civilian she knows for a fact has read her files. 

"Having fun?" Natasha asks, and it's not until then that Bruce seems to even notice she's there.

Jane grins in response. "Yes, definitely. I've been talking Bruce's ear off about nuclear physics for nearly…" she pulls out her phone to glance at the time. "An hour! Oh crap, I told Thor I would be back ages ago…" 

She turns her head to find her boyfriend arm wresting Steve, and Natasha laughs under her breath at the way Jane rolls her eyes at the pair of them. 

Jane turns back to Bruce and Natasha. "I should probably go make sure they don't break anything. But it was great talking to you, Dr. Banner. Nice to see you again, Natasha."

She heads off toward the rowdiness, glass of wine clenched in her hand, wearing an expression of harried exasperation. 

Natasha takes the opportunity to pour herself another glass of champagne. 

"Still nursing that beer, doc?"

Bruce's attention snaps back to her, and he looks down at his drink.

He nods his head. "Yeah, still working on this one. I'm not much of a drinker. For…fairly obvious reasons."

She smirks. "Personally, I need some more champagne to tolerate this level of testosterone."

Bruce gives her an amused smile and takes another sip of his beer. He winces.

Natasha quirks an eyebrow. 

"It's warm," he explains. 

She pulls out a fresh, cold beer from the fridge behind the bar and slides it toward him.

Bruce frowns and mutters the word 'wasteful' under his breath.

"Relax, Banner. I think Stark can afford it."

Bruce looks around at the gaudy decorations and the bottle of Dom Pérignon Natasha has sitting next to her. 

"Fair enough."

He takes a sip of the drink and glances around the party again, looking antsy. 

Natasha purses her lips. "Planning an exit strategy already? Or is it just me that makes you want to bolt?"

Bruce turns back to her with wide, apologetic eyes. "I didn't mean…" He sighs. "Am I so obvious?"

"Subtlety isn't really your strong suit."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Have I done something to offend you in the three minutes I've been standing here?"

Bruce looks both surprised and confused by the question. "No, of course not. You haven't done a thing. I'm just not…"

She waits for him to continue, taking a a sip of her champagne, eyes locked on his.

"I'm just not used to palling around with the people the Other Guy has tried to kill."

This takes her by surprise. She'd thought for sure his skittishness around her had to do with the fact that she'd played him in Kolkata and dragged him into the mess with the Chitauri. Or maybe that he's uncomfortable being around her, knowing the things she's done. Not because he's feeling guilty for the what happened on the helicarrier. 

Natasha can barely suppress her smile. "And you're worried about my discomfort?"

"Well…yes. Any discomfort you might feel around me would be pretty understandable."

This time she doesn't bother to suppress the smile, lips stretching wide with amusement and appreciation. 

"Well then you can relax, doc. You don't make me uncomfortable."

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "Shouldn't you be?"

Natasha shrugs. "I'm not afraid of you."

"He tried to kill you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Banner. Now if you suddenly go green and the Big Guy makes an appearance, you might see a Natasha-shaped hole in that wall when you come to," she gestures behind her.

"But he's always inside of me, waiting to come out. Shouldn't that frighten you of all people? You've seen what he can do."

Natasha takes a large gulp from her champagne flute and sets it down. 

"We've all got monsters lurking under the surface, Banner."

He looks equal parts gutted and intrigued by her statement, and Natasha takes it as evidence that he never actually did read her files after the info dump. 

Bruce doesn't seem to know what to say, so she continues.

"Besides, you make it sound like you'd be the first person to try and kill me that ended up a friend. You don't have a monopoly on these situations. Barton was sent to put an arrow in my eye years ago, and now we're best friends."

"Interesting business you're in, Romanoff." 

She smirks. "Welcome to the club, doc."

He smiles slightly. "It's Bruce."

"Then you can call me Natasha." 

"Not Agent?"

"I mean, if that's your kink, then by all means…"

She can't help the snort of laughter that escapes her when his jaw drops and his eyes practically double in size. 

He splutters. "I, uh…"

"Jeez, Bruce. Relax. It's a joke."

He clears his throat and takes a long drink from his beer. 

Though now that she knows it's a joke that will work so well, with such a humorous response, she decides that she may keep flirting with him, just for the amusement factor. 

And maybe because she is beginning to notice that Bruce Banner is actually quite attractive, too. 

But mostly for the amusement factor. 

Probably.

So she does.

They spend the next two hours almost exclusively in each other's presence, and she winds up flirting shamelessly with him and really enjoys it. It catches him off guard at first, and he bumbles through the first fifteen minutes of conversation, but he finds his footing after a while, and Natasha can see a shadow of the charming young man he must have been before he tested the serum on himself. He's devastatingly handsome and has a certain rugged yet nerdy charm that she finds herself beginning to adore.

So when she finishes her fourth glass of champagne (she's no Captain America, but her ability to metabolize alcohol is still fairly impressive) and he finishes his second beer, she's not surprised to find herself asking, "You've got a room in this place, don't you, doc?"

They stumble back to Bruce's bedroom in Avengers Tower just past one in the morning, locked in a passionate embrace, Natasha dragging him by his tie. His mouth ghosts across her skin, down her jaw and along her neck, where he sucks the piece of flesh that connects her neck and shoulder into his mouth and bites down, hard. And fuck, Natasha should have expected this, should have known he would be a passionate, enthusiastic lover. He's tactile and intense and good with his hands, and she should have expected that once he decided to cross that line, he would do it right.

She tugs on his tie again, leading him further into the room, and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the ground. 

Natasha pulls back and turns around, looking over her shoulder at him with a seductive smile. "Unzip me?"

It's nothing she can't do herself, but she likes the feel of his hands on her, rough and calloused and nowhere near as tentative as anticipated. 

He unzips the dress slowly, pressing light kisses to her neck as he does so, and Natasha pushes the dress down her body when he's done, letting it drop and fall around her ankles where she stands in her heels, bra, and matching thong.

She reaches around and unhooks the bra herself, tossing it to the ground and away from them. 

When she turns her head over her shoulder toward him again, she finds his eyes glued to her ass in obvious appreciation. 

Natasha smirks. "You want to fuck me from behind, don't you?"

His eyes linger on her ass for another moment, and when he finally meets her gaze, all he can do is nod. 

She laughs low in her chest and turns to him, grabbing him by the belt loops and pulling him against her. Bruce leans in to kiss her as she unbuttons his pants, unzips them, and pushes them down around his ankles. 

His kisses are clumsy and unpracticed but absolutely absorbing. She unbuttons his shirt efficiently with fast fingers, but she rips a seam in the process and watches the last couple buttons go flying with a tiny, amused quirk of the lips.

He gives her the same look he'd given her at the bar after she handed him a fresh beer, when he'd muttered 'wasteful' under his breath, but then she's pushing his shirt off and kissing him, and he lets out a little muffled moan against her when she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth. 

Natasha reaches between them and slips a hand into Bruce's boxers, reveling in the way his breathing hitches when she wraps her fingers around him. He lets out a groan, and his head falls against her shoulder for a moment as she strokes him teasingly. He starts kissing her neck again after several moments, and she releases him, shoving his boxers down and leaving him completely naked.

She takes a step back for a moment and gives him a once over, smirking, then turns around and steps out of her underwear, leaving them to fall beside his. She looks over her shoulder again with a grin she thinks must look predatory. 

"What are you waiting for, Bruce? An invitation in the mail?"

He breaks from his haze and grins, then reaches for her and kisses her again, hard and a little rough, with a little too much teeth, and Natasha doesn't care because it is so, so good.

She winds up bent over the side of the bed, Bruce standing behind her, erection brushing against the curve of her ass.

He clears his throat. "Uh, do we need a…?"

His voice is so strained, Natasha thinks he must be turned on beyond belief. Which is reassuring because at least she knows she's not the only one feeling like this.

It's not the time to tell him that she can't get pregnant because of what happened in the Red Room, and it's not the time to tell him she's read his file thoroughly enough to know that he can't give her any diseases, after all the gamma radiation, so she replies with a simple, "I'm good if you're good."

His voice is gruff when he returns with, "I'm good."

She can't help but tease him. "So why don't you show me just how good you are?"

And he does.

Bruce reaches a hand between her legs, calloused fingers stroking her wetness, making her moan. He thrusts two fingers inside her and thumbs her clit, making sure she's well prepared. It's unnecessary; she's been dripping for the past forty-five minutes of foreplay, physical and non-physical alike, but she appreciates the attentiveness all the same. 

He brings her right to the edge, thrusting his fingers and stroking her clit, before he pulls his hand away, and Natasha is left biting back a whimper. Then Bruce is shifting behind her and she can feel the head of his cock at her entrance, bumping her clit. She lets out a short, heady moan when he starts to press the head into her slowly. 

Fuck that, she thinks and presses her hips back into him, taking him to the hilt. 

Bruce lets out a strangled noise of pleasure at the movement, holding her by the hips so hard she thinks he may leave delicious little bruises. He's still for several moments, adjusting, and she thinks he's probably trying very hard not to lose it already. She doesn't know exactly how long it's been for him, but she does know he's been avoiding society and human contact in general long enough that it has probably been quite a while.

"You alright back there?" she breathes in a teasing voice. 

Bruce groans again, then moves his hips in a tiny circle.

"I'm good."

He brings his hand between her thighs and searches out her clit with deft fingers, stroking it gently as his hips slowly start to move in time with the dexterous motion of his hand. 

Natasha breathes a pleased little sigh, moving her hips with his and bracing her hands on the still-made bed in front of her. He increases his pace, thrusting into her with increased abandon, and his fingers move quicker against her. She can feel her orgasm building, heat coiling within her, but she needs something else, can't quite reach past the precipice but can't stop letting out high, needy sounds and digging her fingers into the comforter covering the bed. Then Bruce leans forward, ruts his hips into hers, and bites down on the tendon of her neck, hard. It's just on the right side of pain and exactly what she needs. 

Natasha lets out a loud moan, mutters a breathy fuck, and spasms around him, letting her head fall to the mattress beneath her. Bruce slows his pace to tiny shifts of his hips, easing her through the orgasm and helping her come down.

He pulls out after a few moments, and Natasha rolls over to face him, legs dangling off the bed. She wraps her legs around him, grabs his hand, and yanks him down on top of her, pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss, licking her way into his mouth. Bruce groans, and she can feel his hot breath against her. He pulls back for a moment just to look at her, his gaze soft and sweet and a little strange because this wasn't supposed to be about that. This was supposed to be distraction. Relief. Not connection. 

But she does feel connected to him in that moment, and she's not ready for it, feels unprepared for the sudden intimacy. So she tightens her thighs around him, grabs him by the shoulders, and flips them both over so that he's beneath her on the bed and she's straddling him with little smirk. 

His eyes go wide and his pupils dilate, and her smirk deepens in response. Then she's lifting her hips and wrapping her hand around his cock and guiding him back into her, sinking her weight down onto him again with a sigh, head dropping back.

But it's still too intimate, the way he's looking at her, the way she feels his gaze opening up something deep inside her that she'd thought she'd left behind in the Red Room, years ago. She grips his shoulders with her hands and rides him hard and fast until he's clutching the comforter beneath him so hard she thinks he may rip the fabric. 

It's probably dangerous, she knows, doing this with Bruce Banner, of all people. A man who could let loose and turn into a monster at any moment. But she knows him well enough to know he would stop, wouldn't go along with any of this in the first place if he thought that was going to happen, so she rides him at a fucking gallop, bringing one hand to her clit to bring herself off again and reaching one behind her to cup his balls. 

Bruce tosses his head from side to side, and she knows he must be on the edge. She increases her pace even harder, even faster and watches when he finally lets go with a low, guttural moan. It only takes her another few moments to get herself off, rubbing her clit and following him with a pleased gasp, collapsing on top of him in a heap. 

Natasha thinks she must have completely exhausted him - which isn't exactly surprising, seeing as she's fairly certain this is the first time he's had sex in a very long time - because it's only a few minutes after she's rolled off of him that he starts to drift off to sleep, calves still dangling off the edge of his bed. 

A part of her is tempted to stay and sleep, but instead she ignores the impulse and redresses, picking up her undergarments and dress from the floor, slipping into them quickly and quietly. She then returns to the rooftop to find Clint getting ready to leave, asking in a whisper if she wants to come back to the farm with him. She waves him off, asking him to give Laura and the kids her love and promising to come by sometime soon. She decides to go home, instead, to her tiny apartment here in the city. 

Her sleep is restless that night, and she tries hard not to analyze the reasons why.

--

The second time Natasha has sex with Bruce, she's just gotten back from one hell of a mission. Fury had sent her off on behalf of their new underground not-quite-S.H.I.E.L.D. and she'd been in Bolivia for the past two and a half weeks. The last 48 hours she'd spent in captivity, and she's still kicking herself for letting some asshole get the drop on her. She's fine, save a few cuts and bruises, but it's been a long, lonely, and brutal few weeks. 

She winds up going to the tower instead of going home, after a quick debriefing with Maria Hill. Stark's medical unit is a bit more impressive than the first aid kit under her kitchen sink. She runs into Bruce - quite literally - when she's leaving the medical area, rounding a corner and colliding with him. 

He stumbles back in confusion, and she shakes herself. It's the first time she's seen him since the party, when she left him naked and asleep in his room almost two months ago.

"Natasha?" Surprise and concern leaks into his tone.

She blinks. "Hey, Bruce."

He frowns, taking in the bandage on her forehead and the smattering of bruises along her neck and jaw. 

"Are you okay?"

She nods. "I'm fine. Tired, mostly. Just got back from a mission. Thought I'd come by and get some stitches. I could do it myself, but…figured I might as well use a more practiced hand so I don't wind up with more scars."

His frown deepens. "You sure you're alright?"

The corner of her mouth turns up. "No lasting injuries. Nothing but scrapes and bruises and bone-deep exhaustion."

He nods, still looking concerned. "Oh, well, I should probably leave you to sleep then…right?"

She shrugs. "I'm tired, but I doubt I'll be getting any sleep tonight." 

"Ah." He tilts his head knowingly. "You want to have a drink or something? I know where Tony hides the good liquor."

Part of her thinks she should say no. This is the first time she's seen him or spoken to him since they had sex, and she's not sure how he's feeling about how they left things. Namely, her riding him to completion and bolting as soon as he fell asleep. She's unsure if that's something that may have upset him, and she really doesn't have the energy for a dramatic conversation tonight. But he's looking at her with an understanding expression and warm eyes, and she could really use the company, so she figures, what the hell?

"Sounds good."

He leads her to the kitchen, approaches a cabinet with a punch-in passcode - at which Natasha snorts with laughter - enters the code, and opens the door. 

Bruce turns to Natasha. "Pick your poison."

She glances up toward the cabinet. "Stoli it is."

He passes her the bottle and a glass and grabs the Macallan for himself, pouring out a drink. 

They sit together on barstools, sipping their drinks in mutual silence until Bruce finally speaks.

"Tough mission, huh?"

Natasha takes a long drink before she answers.

"Yes."

"Care to talk about it?"

She frowns. "I probably shouldn't give details."

"Right," he agrees. "That's fine. I didn't mean…I'm not trying to compromise you or anything."

"Not that there's much to compromise these days," she replies with a sigh.

"Long few weeks, huh?"

"Yeah. The last 48 hours especially."

"What made them so bad?"

She swallows the last of her liquor and pours out another.

"I fucked up."

His eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

"How do you mean?"

She sighs. "I let someone get the drop on me. Wound up being held for a couple days before I could get away."

Bruce lets out a sharp breath. "Jesus, Natasha. Are you sure you're okay?"

She turns her gaze to him with a hint of a humorous smile. "I've had a lot worse. Like I said, no lasting injuries. I'm fine."

His voice is heavy when he replies, threaded with burdened understanding.

"Not all injuries are external."

Natasha's smile drops, and she takes a long drink. She waits several moments before answering.

"Yeah, well. This isn't one of them. Like I said, I've had worse."

Bruce nods but does not look very reassured. 

Natasha decides this is a good time to change the subject.

"How have things been here? Keeping Stark in line?"

He lets out a humorless chuckle. "Is that possible?"

Her lips quirk up. "Probably not."

"Things have been fine," he answers her earlier question. "Pepper's been around a lot, so she's helped keep him from blowing too many things up. Namely himself."

"I knew I liked her for a reason."

The small talk is fairly pointless and entirely inane, but she likes the levity it brings to the situation. She likes talking to Bruce, she's realized, but conversation with him seems to easily take a turn toward the serious or the dark. It's nothing she can't handle, but it's nothing she wants to actively deal with, either.

They have a lot in common, she realizes. He knows what it's like to be controlled by forces outside of yourself, and he knows what it's like to deal with the fallout. The way it never stops eating away at you, no matter how much time may pass. She likes that they have this common ground, but that doesn't mean it's something she wants to spend her time discussing, either. 

Natasha and Bruce talk for a while longer, sipping their drinks and chatting aimlessly. She likes the simplicity of it, the stillness. She's still exhausted, but she knows any sleep will lead to nightmares, so she's glad for the distraction. And Bruce Banner is the absolute best form of distraction, she's decided. He's quickly becoming her favorite form.  

But eventually she starts yawning despite herself, and Bruce takes it upon himself to show her to the spare room across the hall from his. Except she decides she doesn't really want to be shown to a spare room when his is right there, and he's standing in front of her with a tentative smile and gentle hands, so she steers him by the shoulders into the wall beside them, observing the way his eyes darken perceptively. 

Natasha leans in to kiss him, catching his lower lip between her teeth and running her fingers through his dark curls. She kisses him breathless, and he pulls back after several long moments, taking deep, shuddering breaths from lack of oxygen. 

A tiny smile plays on his lips when he asks, "Again, huh?"

Natasha grips the lapels of his shirt. "You complaining?"

He lets out an unsteady laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. "Hardly."

Bruce is gentle when he pulls her to him again, but his kiss is fierce, lips bruising and vigilant against hers. She melts into it, leaning on his frame and moving her hands to the buttons of his shirt, beginning to undo them. 

They stumble into his room together, and Bruce pulls back again for a moment.

"Are we ever going to talk about this?" he asks, and his eyes search out hers.

She waits a beat before answering. "Don't see why we'd need to."

But it's complete bullshit, a full fledged lie that hangs between the pair of them, making him narrow his eyes at her and shake his head because Bruce can tell. Bruce can tell that this thing growing between them isn't just stress relief or physical sensation. It's becoming something more, these stolen moments, and it's becoming a something more that Natasha is completely unprepared to deal with.

He leans in to kiss her again, all the same, and she's grateful that he accepts the lie, even if his look of incredulity speaks volumes. 

She breathes an apology into the kiss, saying she's sorry with the gentle finesse of her lips on his, trailing her fingertips along the sides of his face and guiding him further into the room. 

Natasha finishes unbuttoning his shirt within moments and pulls her's off, as well, tossing them both the floor. She reaches for his pants next, undoing them and shoving them down and yanking her pants down, too. They're both left in their underwear, and Natasha kisses a path up his shoulder, along his neck, across his jawline. 

Bruce pulls back for a moment, eyeing her bruises. "You're sure you're okay to do this?"

She doesn't bother to suppress her eye roll. "Shut up and fuck me, Banner."

Then she shoves his boxers down his legs, pulls her sports bra over her head, and removes her underwear. 

He gives her a look equal parts amused and aroused. "So that's a yes, then."

"I'm good."

There's an echo of a grin on his face when he leans in to kiss her again, and she winds up on the bed moments later, laying on top of the comforter with her head resting on the pillows, managing to face the proper way this time around instead of bent over sideways across the edge of the mattress. 

Bruce kisses her lips, her chin, then palms one of her breasts while taking the opposite nipple in his mouth, raking his teeth against it lightly and sucking hard. He switches after a few moments, giving the other breast equal attention, then moves south, kissing his way down her belly and dipping his tongue into her navel. He kisses the scar on her hip with a gentleness that makes her shudder, then settles his face between her thighs and licks a hot stripe up to her clit. 

She fists her hands around the fabric of the comforter beneath her and has to forcibly remind herself not to lift her hips and wrap her thighs around Bruce's neck as he licks her. He presses one finger inside her, then another, and she can hear a high pitched keening coming from somewhere. It's not until she's coming, clenching down hard around his fingers, that she realizes the noises are coming from her. 

Natasha takes a moment to come down, gulping in deep breaths, then drags him up her body and pulls him into a heady kiss. She threads her fingers into his hair, wraps her thighs around him, and flips them over, coming to rest on top of him. 

She brings a hand between them and wraps her hand around his cock and strokes him unhurriedly, circling the head with her thumb and smiling slowly at the way he groans at the gesture. Natasha guides him to her entrance and lowers herself onto him, taking in the way his eyes close and his brows furrow with pleasure. 

She kisses him while she fucks him, hips rising and falling, because she likes the way his lips feel against hers and because if she's kissing him, she can't be made vulnerable by his gaze on her. It's not because she doesn't want to see that look in his eyes; it's because she does. And she's still not ready to want that. The fact that some part of her wants that, craves it, terrifies her. And Natasha Romanoff does not scare easily. 

Bruce trails his fingers up her spine and threads his fingers into her hair, kissing her in earnest, and Natasha breathes against his lips, rocking her hips in time with his. She breaks the kiss after a few moments and sweeps her lips down his jaw and plants them on his neck, sucking and biting at his flesh, leaving tiny marks on him. He moans and runs his fingers along her spine again, fingernails digging lightly into her skin. Bruce's breath is getting thready and his moaning is increasing, and Natasha can tell he's close. He reaches a hand between them and rubs her clit in tiny circles, and she can feel her orgasm building fast. She's right on the edge when he comes, letting out a strangled noise and holding her hips tightly to his. She follows after him a few moments later, spasming around him with loud cry. 

She shifts her weight off of him to lay beside him, one leg still wrapped around his waist as they both recover. Bruce must just be one of those guys that can't seem to stay awake after good sex, she realizes, because the sound of a tiny snore breaks their comfortable silence five minutes later, and Natasha finds herself drifting off beside him. 

The nightmares reach her eventually, though, and she wakes up an hour later with their legs still tangled together. She slips quietly out the embrace and puts her clothes back on, sneaking a somewhat longing glance in Bruce's direction before leaving his room and the tower itself. 

--

The third time Natasha has sex with Bruce, she actively seeks him out at Avengers Tower. It's been a month and a half since their last encounter, and she's found herself actually missing him. It's a foreign concept, the way she's feeling, but she's tired of fighting it and is finally beginning to realize it may not have to be such a bad thing, after all. It's scary, she thinks, but Natasha Romanoff has never let fear get the best of her before, and she's not about to start now. 

She tracks him down in one of the labs just past 10 at night, and she's grateful to find that he is alone and not in Tony's company. He looks startled by the opening of the doors and even more startled when he registers her presence. 

"Hey," Natasha says simply, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. 

He tilts his head, seemingly puzzled, but his lips turn up at the ends in a hint of a smile. 

"Hi, Natasha. This is a surprise."

She shrugs. "I was in the neighborhood." 

"Don't you live three trains away?"

She slips into a smirk. "Semantics." 

It's an admission, though, that she's come here to see him, and she can tell it's not lost on him. 

"Are you here for any particular reason?" he hedges.

"Can't a girl come by to see a friend?"

His tone is dry when he replies. "A friend, huh?"

"Or a more-than-friend."

"Is that what we are?" Bruce asks. "More than friends?"

She keeps her voice light. "Well, we do get pretty friendly. But…yes. I'd say we are. Would you?"

"I'd like to be," he replies candidly. 

Her lips curl up in a small smile. 

Natasha keeps her voice low and quiet. "Good."

She's glad she's come here, glad she's talking to him about this, but the moment is getting a little too heavy for her liking, so she changes the subject.

"What are you working on in here?" Natasha asks. 

"Just some tech Tony and I have been talking about. Nothing that can't be left for tomorrow. You want to…get a drink?"

Her smile widens. "Sure."

They never make it to the kitchen or the liquor cabinet. The tension builds between them and explodes in the middle of the hallway, mouths meeting in an eager kiss, and they head to his room, instead. 

Bruce starts tugging at her shirt, pulling it over her head when they enter his bedroom, and Natasha unbuttons and removes his shirt.

She pulls back for a moment. "You know, this isn't actually what I came here for."

"Yeah?" he sounds breathless and a hint hopeful when he speaks.

"Just wanted to see you." She continues, smirking. "Not that I'm not going to enjoy this, too."

"Noted." 

Bruce grins and captures her lips between his again. Natasha laughs against his mouth, and the sound turns into a moan when he reaches down to cup her ass and bring his lips to her neck. 

She reaches between them and removes his pants in record time, dropping them to his feet where he steps out of them. He brings his arms around her and deftly unhooks her bra, letting it fall to the ground.

Natasha reaches a hand into his boxers and grabs hold of him, stroking carefully. Bruce lets his head drop forward, breathing harshly, and she keeps up her ministrations. She releases his cock after a few minutes, removing her hand and shoving his boxers down, then taking off her own underwear. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she draws Bruce into another intoxicating kiss. He cups her face and deepens it, then runs his hands down along the sides of her body, across her breasts and down her hips. His hands rest just below her ass, then he lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his waist. Natasha savors the way he groans when she plants her lips on his neck, and he walks them over to the bed. They fall in a heap together on the mattress, him on top of her, and he props himself up by his elbows to keep his weight off her body. It's unnecessary, she notes, but sweet, and it makes her smile against his lips. 

They wind up making-out for what she thinks must be at least fifteen minutes before they end up moving things any further, too caught up in the feel of their kisses and the way their bodies are pressed flush against each other. They reach for each other at the same time, her hand reaching between them and stoking his cock and his fingers searching out her clit, rubbing it slowly. She arches into his touch, letting out a long moan. He's figured out exactly how she likes it, in slow tantalizing circles, and she can already feel her orgasm building when she brings his cock to her entrance and he presses inside her. 

She makes a little pleased sound in the back of her throat and forces herself not to close her eyes when he looks at her because yes, this is intimate, and yes, that can be a good thing. He looks down at her with a fondness in his eyes that makes her smile tremulously in response. Then he shifts his hips and she moans again and wraps her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass. 

She reaches down to cup his balls, and Bruce lets out a breathless, "Fuck, Natasha."

She lets out a throaty chuckle between panting breaths and responds, "That's the general idea."

Bruce groans when she rakes her fingernails up his back with one hand and threads her fingers through his hair, drawing him in for a quick kiss. He pulls back a moment later and reaches a hand between them, bringing his thumb to her clit and tracing slow, drawn-out circles. Natasha's close, so close, and he increases his pace as she starts to tighten around him. Bruce adds the slightest amount of pressure with his thumb as it circles her clit, and she cries out, seeing white behind her eyelids and coming as hard as she ever has. 

He slows his pace to a crawl as she comes down, breathing heavily beneath him. She blinks her eyes open after a while, and he's looking at her with rapt, reverent attention and an obvious amount of pride. Natasha laughs under her breath at the look. Then she brings her legs in and up and wraps her ankles around Bruce's neck, enjoying the way his eyes go wide and dark, and he lets out a strangled moan. He settles into a quick, steady pace. The angle is just right, and she feels another orgasm approaching rapidly. Her thighs start to tremble around him, and she can feel the sensation building within her, just a hair's breath away from becoming her unmaking, and Bruce increases his pace even further, slamming into her with a grunt, breathing hard and fast. Natasha grips his bicep, squeezing his arm hard with her fingers when she starts to come, and she can feel more than hear his sigh of relief when he finally lets go, coming along with her, face taut with pleasure. 

Bruce slackens, resting on top of her for a moment before rolling to lay beside her. He drapes an arm across her belly, and she rests her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily in tandem with him. Natasha curls up on her side and into Bruce, and he draws her closer, his arm twined around her body. 

He falls asleep a few minutes later, like always, and Natasha allows herself to drift into sleep beside him. 

When she wakes again a few hours later, Bruce still dozing peacefully at her side, her lips curl upward at the sight of him, and she closes her eyes again, falling back to sleep within minutes. 

--

Natasha's eyes blink open again several hours later to find Bruce yawning groggily beside her, rousing from sleep. His eyes settle on her after a moment, and he takes in the way he's still got an arm draped across her body with a small, contented smile.

Surprise bleeds into his tone when he speaks.

"You stayed."

She nods. "I did. That a problem?"

Bruce shakes his head, looking pleased. "No. Not at all." He tightens his arm around her. "It's good."

Natasha smiles wide.

"Good."