open roleplay post.

[neveryourmask]

open roleplay post; consult active cast list (pending update). shipping and nc-17 content is fine. i also like action, genre aus, canon compliant and canon divergent things, and pretend tdms. feel free to plurk me if you want to bounce an idea. leave me prompts, starters, blank comments, whatever your dark heart desires. current links to meme starters/blank comments can be found here. i am periodically slow to tag due to prioritising games and life things.

Comments

[lie]

That's what I thought.

[ A little amused about it. Natasha hums. Pressure along her spine, warm and heavy, and she enjoys the pass for another second before her hand does slip underneath. The angle isn't the best so it doesn't last that long. It's sort of lazy, slow strokes and the unhurried, firm ring of her fist. She watches him the entire time.

Natasha stops before it can really get anywhere. It's for necessity rather than cruelty -- she kisses him preemptively, lifting her hips up to take off her jeans. Underwear too. Parts to kick them off onto her kitchen floor somewhere, who cares where.

Draws him back in with her knees, for the second time, to settle between her legs. ]

[propulsion]

[ Arousal is a slow burn and so there is room for patience as Natasha works him, his eyes half-hooding and catching his breath shallow in his lungs at initial contact. His hands slide to her thighs, and when she kisses him, he responds with eager pressure, some inarticulate noise at the removal of her hand cancelled there.

When he clues into what she's doing -- and it takes a second -- he sort of helps. She is doing a better job than he is at that, but there's a hand to balance her at the very least.

He brings a hand down to open his pants up more, pushing fabric aside. His movements aren't desperate or hurried in spite of the blood-hard flesh she'd just been handling, the slightly quaver to his breathing, but unhesitating as he lets himself get drawn back close, and he sets a hand against the back of her knee to hitch her thigh up further.

No outright commentary or laughter or smiles right now, but he looks back up to make eye contact, and there's still something like mirth in brown eyes. You find yourself in the weirdest circumstances sometimes, huh?

He pushes into her, and it's a languid and singular motion, and now he makes a noise, relief mingled in luxuriating pleasure. ] Nat-- [ is sighed, incomplete, or maybe not. ]

[lie]

[ The noise she makes is similar-- a quiet, satisfied sigh. It takes a minute to adjust. Her hand reaches to cup the side of his face, thumb sweeping under his eye. Soft pink across her cheeks and mouth flushed and the same spark of mirth is there, a gentle undercurrent beneath the livewire feeling of arousal and sex and this. Whatever this is now.

They move together. Natasha's quiet, mostly, save for those hitches in breathing. Slow and unhurried until her hand presses between them to touch herself.

Wound tight, until she lets go again. The muscles in her thigh jump, and she comes again with her eyes closed, forehead pressed against his. ]

[propulsion]

[ He isn't far behind her, but he does wait her out for mutual benefit, eyes closed and tension steely up his spine, yoked across his shoulders, the hand trapping her knee holding a little firmer, feeling the twitch of her muscles like a pulse.

Tony's hands come up to hold either side of her face and steer her into a heated kiss, about as commanding as he's gotten so far, and from there, he seeks his own relief with a little more urgency than before, slow build burning out. It happens fast once he lets it, giving a shuddered groan half-muffled into her neck, a hand pressing splayed against the countertop.

The next sigh out of him is more conscious, appreciative and relieved, and now facing a dilemma -- that pushing himself out of this space will end it forever and ever, and so Tony lingers where he is, her legs folded around him, too warm under his clothes, the contours of her body pressed closely with his. But he can't imagine the countertop is super booty friendly.

And he has a red hair or two in his mouth, now, so he does at that point lift his head to look at her. ] Hey.

[lie]

[ He looks at her, and by now her own breathing is already schooled into something level. Maybe not entirely effective, considering. Everything. Natasha's hand has been gently smoothing the back of his neck, short sweeps up and down, but it stills now. ]

Hi.

[ Quietly. Then there's a smile on her face-- a little wry, by most standards. ]

We should have done this in a bed.

[ Regret after sex is probably not very sexy. Natasha might be the type to despair about the status of having had sex on Italian countertops if she gave a shit about Italian countertops. It's mostly uncomfortable, but in the post-coital way that means she can ignore that for a little while longer, so she does. Her thighs press lightly into his hips, not insistent or inviting, but not strictly falling away either. ]

That was fun.

[propulsion]

Yeah. I mean, room for improvement, given the--

[ He wants to kiss her again. He would like to be on a bed too, actually, but not in a regrets way and more in a seeing if he could pursue a round two kind of way. More excuse to linger so she can do that nice thing she was doing to his neck-- way. ]

--bed, uh, circumstance.

[ He lands a kiss kind of off-centre on her mouth before reluctantly extricating himself before she has to urge him backwards. Hands helping her resteady herself before he attends to his own half-pantsed situation, still working on gaining back his breath, blood flow normalising, and so on. Reality eking back in.

He ducks down and picks her clothes back up and hands them off to her, underwear first, because he is a Gentleman, eyes guileless of any inherent comedy that may or may not present. ]

That was fun, [ he echoes, on delay. ] I'm glad we didn't do it in Berlin. Now I am, anyway.

[lie]

[ She takes the clothes, puts them on. Gives him a quick Look through the thick of her red hair when she's shimmying back into her underwear of the Don't say anything variety. There's a small face as she shifts her legs. The realities of gravity after sex are, you know, substantially less fun, so she zips up her jeans and says mildly, ]

Me too.

[ The 4am of Berlin: notoriously ill-timed. Something a little tender still flares in her chest when she looks at him. It's better, now that she knows what to do with it -- she doesn't reach for him, hands pressed behind her at the countertop's edge, but she looks at him openly.

Natasha does that now. Because she likes him, as a person. ]

We should do it again sometime.

[ She says it a little like it's funny, because it sort of is. It feels rote. Natasha says it anyway, because the benefit of intimacy is, occasionally, saying things that are true for the sake of meaning them. ]

[propulsion]

You turning me out, Romanoff?

[ --but rote as it may feel, she can probably catch that he'd been looking for that cue. Thinking about it, at least.

A musical tap of his fingers against the countertop. ]

I get it. International bootycalls are best when they got jet repulsors on their feet.

[lie]

[ There's a look that passes over her face. Mostly, it's some strain of surprise, which gets clamped down and filed away before it can go anywhere. Some of it looks like annoyance. Some of it is neither of those two things. Natasha deftly chooses to ignore those. ]

Sure.

[ Mildly. There's a little pause, and Natasha's head dips for a second as she looks down at her feet. Looks back up, and she arches an eyebrow at him. ]

I'd say you could stay for lunch, but.

[ But that would involve the kitchen. And, you know. ]

[propulsion]

[ Oh hey, annoyance, from her to him. Good to know sex hasn't changed that fundamental. ]

Sure, [ he echoes back at her. ] And I guess if I took you down to that quaint little place on the corner for something by candlelight, your cover's liable to take a hit, huh.

Think they deliver?

[ Because that didn't sound like a hard yes on getting him to leave. Still. He's ready for a signal, more attuned to it than he'd ordinarily be when it comes to. This stuff. ]

[lie]

[ If Natasha were someone else, she might stare at him like he has two heads. Because she is Natasha, she stares at him like he has one head. So, you know. Like normal. ]

We could find out.

[ That is an invite. Natasha pauses, adds, ]

And check if the shower works.

[ To really round out the deal, here. She's open to addendums. ]

[propulsion]

[ Someone's gotta blink eventually. A betting man would put his money on Natasha, but aside from the odd jaunt to Vegas, that was never Tony's vice. ]

Uh huh, [ he agrees, quickly on the back of her suggestion. ] I'm pretty good with my hands.

[ You know. In case it doesn't. Sex again, lunch, and shower is a hell of an agenda, so he suggests-- ]

Shower first.