FIC: Flight Deck, Natasha/Imaginary!Steve/Imaginary!Bruce NC17
Fandom: Avengers (Movieverse)
Pairing: Natasha/Imaginary!Steve/Imaginary!Bruce
Rating: NC17
Words: 1500+
Warning: dub-con, voyeurism/exhibitionism kink
AN: from a bunny released into the wild by Anna_Unfolding. Just visiting this exciting fandom in the wake of my Avengers Squee! <3
Unbetaed
It's been a long time since anything surprised Natalia Romanova. Especially where men are concerned.
The last time… Yeah, the last time left her vulnerable and slow witted; she vowed it'd never happen again.
If love is for children, then lust is just a drug for childish adults, a petty distraction. And she has no time for distractions.
All the same, when she meets Rogers, Captain America no less, the iron grip she has on herself slips just a little bit.
There's a moment, a blink and then, "Hi," she says, the guttural want she's suddenly feeling resonating in the depth of her unfaithful voice.
She has a moment to collect her thoughts, sends Coulson to the bridge, and she starts walking.
"You caused quite a stir round her, Captain," she says, adding a dig at Coulson's fanboy ways. It isn't deflection, not at all, but it's the time she needs to get herself back under control. Not even Barton could have pegged what she was really thinking. Emotions are like knives. And Natasha's never been one for self harm.
He's big, the Captain. Not that size means anything to Natasha. Just, she's never been attracted to it like that before. "The bigger they come the harder they fall," her handler used to tell her back in Stalingrad, right before he'd sucker punch her, or worse.
Actually, now she thinks about it, Ivan was the one who first showed her the value of controlling her feelings, of disguising want and fear and pain. He's the man who taught her the power of observation, of psychology, of using the illusion feeling to trip and trap the less disciplined.
Or maybe he just harnessed skills she'd already learned the hard - harder way?
Whatever, Natasha is a closed book now. A closed book drenched in red.
Rogers' ledger, on the other hand, is drenched in nothing but glory. There's nothing guarded about him because he thinks he has nothing to hide. She's surprised to find how envious that makes her; surprised to find the attraction is to his goodness, and not just the knowledge that here is one that can match her. It's embarrassing how obvious it all is; she can't believe she'd roll over for the Alpha to end all Alphas.
She leads him across the flight deck towards the prototype Quinjet she's been meaning to get a look at when she spot a familiar figure narrowly avoid getting bowled over by a trolley of missiles.
Banner stumbles his way towards them, hopelessly out of place amid the khaki and chrome in his tweedy suit and she hangs back as the two men make their - Coulson would call it epic - introductions.
Natasha actually likes the doctor; he's mostly - ironically - harmless when he's like this. But she's curious to see what the Captain will make of him.
Because Banner...now, Banner is interesting. This is a man who's also hiding nothing - not his fear, not his mistrust, not his vulnerability, nor his compassion. Even his intellect - it's all on show as if the weight of them is the lid holding his other, more... problematic, emotions in check. There's only so much a man can repress, after all.
Natasha watches the men closely while giving the impression of polite disinterest. "The bigger they come, the harder they fall."
Well, there's an exception to every rule. Natasha shivers. There's not much scares her, but...
Fear and desire. Desire and fear. Pain and pleasure and...rage. The Other Guy, as Banner calls him, terrifies her.
Hulk is the bogey man Natasha's been running from (at?) her whole life. He's the adult she couldn't escape as a little girl, the youth who wouldn't take *neyt* for an answer; he's the rage she has fought for years and years to control in herself. He is unleashed, unfettered, uncontrollable. For Natasha he is undeniable.
She fears him almost as much as she wants him.
What will Rogers make of him?
Natasha's read The Captain's file of course. Not the one they let Rogers read, the real one, the one with all the dirt - anyone who thinks S.H.E.I.L.D. is above that level of snooping is delusional. Rogers is a man's man. He was a man's man 70 years ago and as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. know, that has not changed. He never dated before the serum, and afterwards there was only the War, and a school yard kind of crush on Director… or Agent Carter as she was then.
Since the big thaw, there'd been no one. Not for lack of opportunity, either. Agent Hill had been pretty tenacious - you don't get to be Fury's sword arm without tenacity - and S.H.I.E.L.D. have not been above putting temptations in Rogers' way to lure him back into the world either. But he's never taken the bait.
In his apartment Rogers has two personal possessions - if you don't count the punching bags - one is a picture of Peggy Carter, the other is a picture of Sergeant Barnes with Rogers from before the serum. And that is the one he has next to his bed.
"Make of that what you will." That's what Director Fury had said to her. "He's no Tony Stark. You'll have to find some other way of getting under his skin."
"Gentlemen, you might want to step inside," she says to the two of them. "It's gonna get a little hard to breathe." Amen to that.
Rogers and Banner walk to the edge of the deck and watch the water churning in the ship's turbines. She sees them speak to one another, share an understanding. She sees Rogers' hand hover at Banner's back as the other man leans forward. She sees him tuck his hand out of sight quickly when Banner turns to Rogers to speak.
Natasha's skin prickles; she clenches and un-clenches her fists, bites back a smile. She takes another deeper breath.
She's trained to see the little tells - the tenseness in the shoulders that says a man is on alert, the tightness by the eyes that says he's surprised and hiding it (or doesn't even know it), the quirk of his mouth that says he wants to say more but can't (or won't). The Captain had shown all of them when Banner shook his hand.
Fusty's his thing?, she thinks. That is surprising. They're such a strange mismatch; brains and brawn. She tries not to grin again at Rogers' puffed up chest when Banner smiles at him.
Brains and brawn. Brawn and brains. It makes her think of...
*Howard Stark*. Oh, of course.
Banner's short, dark and brainy too. And, now that she comes to think of it. Barnes was pretty similar - dark looks, a tactician's mind, a smart mouth. (She's read the files. All the files.)
But Banner is gentle where Stark, if the news reels were anything to go by, was a brash, self centred...well, was a Stark. And James 'Bucky' Barnes? Bucky's dead. And Steve doesn't seem the kind who likes to be reminded of that.
Maybe that's it? Stark-like, but gentle? Bucky-like but, to all intents and purposes, immortal?
Or maybe Steve Rogers just has a type?
Natasha would laugh at herself. Because the reality is Rogers has no idea that he leans in to Banner when he talks; he has no idea he hasn't quite looked the man in the eyes once, but can't seem to take his eyes off him. Rogers is clueless, the poor bastard.
It makes her giddy, excited.
Where's her alpha male gone? Where would she like her alpha male to go? To his knees. Who for? For Natasha? No. For Banner.
She takes a deep, slow breath through her nose and she pictures… She shouldn't... but she can't help it...she pictures Rogers on his knees, hands behind his back; naked with his head lowered and his eyes closed, the taut curves of his muscles shining with his sweat. Boch smerti Her heart beat skips up a notch and she breathes deeper. She turns and leads the two men back to the airlock as the ship rises.
As they walk she pictures Banner standing over him, a white vest clinging to his chest, dark with perspiration, the belt of his suit pants undone, fingers twining in Rogers' hair as he looks... looks up at her. He's waiting for her word. Brains and brawn and control.
On the flightdeck Natasha smiles to herself, cups her hand to the side of her face and pretends to listen to her ear piece. Banner smiles when she glances at him. Natasha smiles back
She pictures them in her room below; all steel and frosted glass, and the three of them reflected in every surface. She imagines nodding, just once, a curt drop of her chin, an order. And Bruce turns back to Steve, pulls his hair hard. Says, "Open your mouth...g-good. Good boy."
But Steve resists, eyes and mouth clenched tight, he shakes his head.
Banner swallows. "Want me to get angry, Steve?" he says. "You want us to make you? You want her to?"
Steve's eyes flash open, cutting to her. Natasha licks her lips and smiles with just the corner of her mouth letting the want show in her face. Steve blinks up at Bruce; the knot of his Adam's apple bobs up and down slowly and his lips part.
"Uh..." His eyes cut over to Natasha again and she shakes her head, finger pressed to her lips.
Steve squeezes his eyes shut.
He's so perfect, Natasha thinks, even like this with the pink blush of shame and excitement spreading over his cheeks. So easy to read.
Bruce fumbles with his pants, pushes them down his thighs one handed and takes himself in hand. he presses the head of his cock against Steve's wet lower lip. Rubs it back and forth and sighs before pushing forward.
Steve moans and tries to jerk his head away, but Bruce's grip on his hair is tight, Steve can't go anywhere. His mouth stretches around Bruce's red flesh. His nostrils flare and Bruce's hips twitch.
Natasha is so intent on Rogers' mouth it takes a moment for her to notice Banner's eyes on her, his sharp, shallow breathing, the way he bites his lip.
"Fuck him," she says.
And she can't help pressing her thighs tight together around her hand as Banner's head falls back and his hips stutter forward. Steve whines, chokes on a deep thrust, and his cheeks hollow.
"Jesus," Bruce hisses. "Jesus Christ."
"He fucking loves it, Doc," she breathes. "Look." And Bruce slumps forward, both hands in Steve's hair now. He twists away a little so he can see beneath him; Steve's hard cock jutting up from the junction of his spread thighs, the pale pink tip gleaming with pre-come, bobbing back and forth as Bruce fucks his face.
And Bruce laughs. His hands slipping out of Steve's hair down to cup his cheeks. "You-you do, don't you?" he pants, thumb sweeping over Roger's cheek bone. Their eyes lock as Bruce's hips keep pumping and there's just the 'ah, ah, ah,' of his laboured breathing, and wet sharp sounds of his cock in Steve's mouth. Oish moi, blya
"Miss Romanoff?"
Natasha blinks. Rogers is standing in front of her, a slight frown between his eyes, lips quirked in a questioning smile. Natasha's hand is on the airlock controls but she hasn't pushed them.
Natasha smiles back before she can stop herself, and then frowns before she can stop that either. Rogers reaches around her and hits the lock with a smile. The doors whoosh closed and he turns back to Banner. "Apparently the Bridge has to be seen to be believed, Doctor," Rogers says as he stands back and waits for her to go through the inner door ahead of him, attention fixed on Banner.
Natash turns on her heel and heads off. It's a long walk to the bridge knowing they are both walking behind her. She enjoys every second of it.
Pairing: Natasha/Imaginary!Steve/Imaginary!Bruce
Rating: NC17
Words: 1500+
Warning: dub-con, voyeurism/exhibitionism kink
AN: from a bunny released into the wild by Anna_Unfolding. Just visiting this exciting fandom in the wake of my Avengers Squee! <3
Unbetaed
It's been a long time since anything surprised Natalia Romanova. Especially where men are concerned.
The last time… Yeah, the last time left her vulnerable and slow witted; she vowed it'd never happen again.
If love is for children, then lust is just a drug for childish adults, a petty distraction. And she has no time for distractions.
All the same, when she meets Rogers, Captain America no less, the iron grip she has on herself slips just a little bit.
There's a moment, a blink and then, "Hi," she says, the guttural want she's suddenly feeling resonating in the depth of her unfaithful voice.
She has a moment to collect her thoughts, sends Coulson to the bridge, and she starts walking.
"You caused quite a stir round her, Captain," she says, adding a dig at Coulson's fanboy ways. It isn't deflection, not at all, but it's the time she needs to get herself back under control. Not even Barton could have pegged what she was really thinking. Emotions are like knives. And Natasha's never been one for self harm.
He's big, the Captain. Not that size means anything to Natasha. Just, she's never been attracted to it like that before. "The bigger they come the harder they fall," her handler used to tell her back in Stalingrad, right before he'd sucker punch her, or worse.
Actually, now she thinks about it, Ivan was the one who first showed her the value of controlling her feelings, of disguising want and fear and pain. He's the man who taught her the power of observation, of psychology, of using the illusion feeling to trip and trap the less disciplined.
Or maybe he just harnessed skills she'd already learned the hard - harder way?
Whatever, Natasha is a closed book now. A closed book drenched in red.
Rogers' ledger, on the other hand, is drenched in nothing but glory. There's nothing guarded about him because he thinks he has nothing to hide. She's surprised to find how envious that makes her; surprised to find the attraction is to his goodness, and not just the knowledge that here is one that can match her. It's embarrassing how obvious it all is; she can't believe she'd roll over for the Alpha to end all Alphas.
She leads him across the flight deck towards the prototype Quinjet she's been meaning to get a look at when she spot a familiar figure narrowly avoid getting bowled over by a trolley of missiles.
Banner stumbles his way towards them, hopelessly out of place amid the khaki and chrome in his tweedy suit and she hangs back as the two men make their - Coulson would call it epic - introductions.
Natasha actually likes the doctor; he's mostly - ironically - harmless when he's like this. But she's curious to see what the Captain will make of him.
Because Banner...now, Banner is interesting. This is a man who's also hiding nothing - not his fear, not his mistrust, not his vulnerability, nor his compassion. Even his intellect - it's all on show as if the weight of them is the lid holding his other, more... problematic, emotions in check. There's only so much a man can repress, after all.
Natasha watches the men closely while giving the impression of polite disinterest. "The bigger they come, the harder they fall."
Well, there's an exception to every rule. Natasha shivers. There's not much scares her, but...
Fear and desire. Desire and fear. Pain and pleasure and...rage. The Other Guy, as Banner calls him, terrifies her.
Hulk is the bogey man Natasha's been running from (at?) her whole life. He's the adult she couldn't escape as a little girl, the youth who wouldn't take *neyt* for an answer; he's the rage she has fought for years and years to control in herself. He is unleashed, unfettered, uncontrollable. For Natasha he is undeniable.
She fears him almost as much as she wants him.
What will Rogers make of him?
Natasha's read The Captain's file of course. Not the one they let Rogers read, the real one, the one with all the dirt - anyone who thinks S.H.E.I.L.D. is above that level of snooping is delusional. Rogers is a man's man. He was a man's man 70 years ago and as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. know, that has not changed. He never dated before the serum, and afterwards there was only the War, and a school yard kind of crush on Director… or Agent Carter as she was then.
Since the big thaw, there'd been no one. Not for lack of opportunity, either. Agent Hill had been pretty tenacious - you don't get to be Fury's sword arm without tenacity - and S.H.I.E.L.D. have not been above putting temptations in Rogers' way to lure him back into the world either. But he's never taken the bait.
In his apartment Rogers has two personal possessions - if you don't count the punching bags - one is a picture of Peggy Carter, the other is a picture of Sergeant Barnes with Rogers from before the serum. And that is the one he has next to his bed.
"Make of that what you will." That's what Director Fury had said to her. "He's no Tony Stark. You'll have to find some other way of getting under his skin."
"Gentlemen, you might want to step inside," she says to the two of them. "It's gonna get a little hard to breathe." Amen to that.
Rogers and Banner walk to the edge of the deck and watch the water churning in the ship's turbines. She sees them speak to one another, share an understanding. She sees Rogers' hand hover at Banner's back as the other man leans forward. She sees him tuck his hand out of sight quickly when Banner turns to Rogers to speak.
Natasha's skin prickles; she clenches and un-clenches her fists, bites back a smile. She takes another deeper breath.
She's trained to see the little tells - the tenseness in the shoulders that says a man is on alert, the tightness by the eyes that says he's surprised and hiding it (or doesn't even know it), the quirk of his mouth that says he wants to say more but can't (or won't). The Captain had shown all of them when Banner shook his hand.
Fusty's his thing?, she thinks. That is surprising. They're such a strange mismatch; brains and brawn. She tries not to grin again at Rogers' puffed up chest when Banner smiles at him.
Brains and brawn. Brawn and brains. It makes her think of...
*Howard Stark*. Oh, of course.
Banner's short, dark and brainy too. And, now that she comes to think of it. Barnes was pretty similar - dark looks, a tactician's mind, a smart mouth. (She's read the files. All the files.)
But Banner is gentle where Stark, if the news reels were anything to go by, was a brash, self centred...well, was a Stark. And James 'Bucky' Barnes? Bucky's dead. And Steve doesn't seem the kind who likes to be reminded of that.
Maybe that's it? Stark-like, but gentle? Bucky-like but, to all intents and purposes, immortal?
Or maybe Steve Rogers just has a type?
Natasha would laugh at herself. Because the reality is Rogers has no idea that he leans in to Banner when he talks; he has no idea he hasn't quite looked the man in the eyes once, but can't seem to take his eyes off him. Rogers is clueless, the poor bastard.
It makes her giddy, excited.
Where's her alpha male gone? Where would she like her alpha male to go? To his knees. Who for? For Natasha? No. For Banner.
She takes a deep, slow breath through her nose and she pictures… She shouldn't... but she can't help it...she pictures Rogers on his knees, hands behind his back; naked with his head lowered and his eyes closed, the taut curves of his muscles shining with his sweat. Boch smerti Her heart beat skips up a notch and she breathes deeper. She turns and leads the two men back to the airlock as the ship rises.
As they walk she pictures Banner standing over him, a white vest clinging to his chest, dark with perspiration, the belt of his suit pants undone, fingers twining in Rogers' hair as he looks... looks up at her. He's waiting for her word. Brains and brawn and control.
On the flightdeck Natasha smiles to herself, cups her hand to the side of her face and pretends to listen to her ear piece. Banner smiles when she glances at him. Natasha smiles back
She pictures them in her room below; all steel and frosted glass, and the three of them reflected in every surface. She imagines nodding, just once, a curt drop of her chin, an order. And Bruce turns back to Steve, pulls his hair hard. Says, "Open your mouth...g-good. Good boy."
But Steve resists, eyes and mouth clenched tight, he shakes his head.
Banner swallows. "Want me to get angry, Steve?" he says. "You want us to make you? You want her to?"
Steve's eyes flash open, cutting to her. Natasha licks her lips and smiles with just the corner of her mouth letting the want show in her face. Steve blinks up at Bruce; the knot of his Adam's apple bobs up and down slowly and his lips part.
"Uh..." His eyes cut over to Natasha again and she shakes her head, finger pressed to her lips.
Steve squeezes his eyes shut.
He's so perfect, Natasha thinks, even like this with the pink blush of shame and excitement spreading over his cheeks. So easy to read.
Bruce fumbles with his pants, pushes them down his thighs one handed and takes himself in hand. he presses the head of his cock against Steve's wet lower lip. Rubs it back and forth and sighs before pushing forward.
Steve moans and tries to jerk his head away, but Bruce's grip on his hair is tight, Steve can't go anywhere. His mouth stretches around Bruce's red flesh. His nostrils flare and Bruce's hips twitch.
Natasha is so intent on Rogers' mouth it takes a moment for her to notice Banner's eyes on her, his sharp, shallow breathing, the way he bites his lip.
"Fuck him," she says.
And she can't help pressing her thighs tight together around her hand as Banner's head falls back and his hips stutter forward. Steve whines, chokes on a deep thrust, and his cheeks hollow.
"Jesus," Bruce hisses. "Jesus Christ."
"He fucking loves it, Doc," she breathes. "Look." And Bruce slumps forward, both hands in Steve's hair now. He twists away a little so he can see beneath him; Steve's hard cock jutting up from the junction of his spread thighs, the pale pink tip gleaming with pre-come, bobbing back and forth as Bruce fucks his face.
And Bruce laughs. His hands slipping out of Steve's hair down to cup his cheeks. "You-you do, don't you?" he pants, thumb sweeping over Roger's cheek bone. Their eyes lock as Bruce's hips keep pumping and there's just the 'ah, ah, ah,' of his laboured breathing, and wet sharp sounds of his cock in Steve's mouth. Oish moi, blya
"Miss Romanoff?"
Natasha blinks. Rogers is standing in front of her, a slight frown between his eyes, lips quirked in a questioning smile. Natasha's hand is on the airlock controls but she hasn't pushed them.
Natasha smiles back before she can stop herself, and then frowns before she can stop that either. Rogers reaches around her and hits the lock with a smile. The doors whoosh closed and he turns back to Banner. "Apparently the Bridge has to be seen to be believed, Doctor," Rogers says as he stands back and waits for her to go through the inner door ahead of him, attention fixed on Banner.
Natash turns on her heel and heads off. It's a long walk to the bridge knowing they are both walking behind her. She enjoys every second of it.