#『Painting The Universe | Aesthetic』 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

corralinesage · 1 month ago

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Portrait of a wounded heart (7/8)

This is the last official chapter of this work. Hope you enjoy! <3

CHAPTER 7 Reification

Your eyes flashed open as you forced yourself awake, blinking your eyes to get rid of the heaviness of your eyelids. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t miss a single moment of being snuggly cuddled up in Natasha’s embrace, your cheek pressed up against her breast and her arms wrapped around you. She was lying on her healthy side, giving her injured ribs some relief, which left you the most perfect spot to sleep in. Your room was dark, streetlights peeking from behind your curtains to illuminate the wooden floor, the cold air of your room contrasting perfectly with Natasha’s warm body as it pressed tightly up against yours beneath the covers. She smelled like sex, you smelled like sex, the scent mixing with body wash and the mild fragrance of fresh linen that still clung to the sheets you had changed two days before. Natasha was asleep, her chest moving in tandem with yours as she breathed evenly, her nose buried in your hair. She must have been beyond tired after what she had had to endure at work. She had barely moved since you both had settled down for the night. You could hear her gentle breathing above you, a smile spreading onto your lips. In the span of just a couple hours you had noticed that she had a habit of huffing quietly in her sleep, soft noises getting muffled by your hair as she slept soundly, the weight of her arm squeezing you against her body, her fingers limply curled against your bare back.

You were so happy, you were so happy that your body physically ached from how difficult it was to process that emotion you had been lacking for so long. You felt small and feeble beside the overwhelmingly powerful feeling that had all of a sudden gotten such a tight, suffocating grip on you, yet it felt good. It felt comforting to know that there was still light somewhere in your future, that you could have good things. You weren’t damned to a life of misery, you weren’t destined for loneliness, but you had a very real possibility of finding true happiness and stability in your life, that was if the woman holding you managed to behave. You knew she shouldn’t have been the one to carry the burden of your contentment, but she just so happened to be a huge part of it, and there was nothing you could do about it. She made you happy, happy in a way that you couldn’t control.

Natasha huffed again, pressing her nose farther into your hair as she nuzzled herself closer to you, adjusting her position, her foot sliding up your calf. You couldn’t remember a time you had slept next to someone, let alone in someone’s arms, or you could, but you didn’t want to think about it. The memory would have only ruined the serene atmosphere of your bedroom where time stood still, and only happy thoughts existed. You burrowed your face into her bare chest, kissing the warm skin, freeing your hand from between your bodies to glide it down the curve of her waist beneath the blanket. Her skin was impossibly smooth, your fingertips stroking over the silky surface, going up to her hip to meet her hipbone that jutted out slightly before coming back down to where her waist dipped the lowest. You hugged her closer, your hand wandering to explore her muscular back, finding all kinds of subtle arches and bumps for you to trace. You breathed in the warmth of Natasha’s skin, your mind drifting, eyes fluttering shut without you noticing.

The next time you tore your eyes open, the sun was up in the sky, but covered by clouds, gentle light beaming into your room through the curtains. You could hear cars outside, the even hum of traffic with an occasional honk of a horn carrying through the poor structures of the building. Your body was stiff, but you were more than comfortable in your sheets. You felt a hand on your waist, your attention shifting automatically to Natasha as you turned around to face her, having rolled away from her embrace in your sleep. You found her frizzy hair, her relaxed face buried in her pillow, her eyes remaining closed. You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face, the excitement from the day before returning in full force. She was there, right there in front of you, cuddled up in your sheets, in your sheets. You hid your face in your hands, refraining from squealing. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. Yet it was.

You decided to let her sleep for as long as she needed to, hoping that she could recharge herself properly after the night she had had. It was quite early still, early enough for your 9AM-alarm to not have gone off. You had a four-hour-long lecture that day, but you were without a shadow of a doubt going to skip it, so you made sure to disable the alarm altogether to avoid disturbing Natasha in any way. You watched her sleep for a long time, your gaze studying her tranquil state until you finally failed to fight the itch to go fetch your sketchbook. You settled down on the edge of the bed where you could see her from your desired angle, your pencil finding the paper on its own as you started sketching, eyes remaining on her beautiful face, slowly moving down to her bare shoulder and waist, the duvet covering up the rest of her body. You traced her soft, feminine frame onto the paper, your pencil defining each gentle curve of her body while you simultaneously admired even the most minute details about her. It might have been a bit strange, it might have been unnerving to some, but you didn’t even think about it. You were simply drawing, yearning to replicate, immortalize, the beauty that you saw.

Your gaze remained on her face, the pencil in your hand halting for a moment. You felt overcome with reverence for her beauty, your mind remaining in awe of her ethereal appearance that somehow went much deeper than the surface. You couldn’t describe the experience adequately enough, her demeanor somehow shining through her exterior. Maybe it was something only you could see, maybe it was a mere figment of your imagination, but whatever it was, it was beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous. It was reflected in every aspect of her appearance. You saw it in the way her long lashes only barely fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamt away. You saw it in those plump lips that were paler and drier than normal, the unmoisturized surface revealing the thin lines on the delicate skin. You saw it in each loose hair strand that curled against the ivory of her face and shoulder, in every gorgeous mole on her cheek. You saw the experience in its entirety in each captivating component of her face that formed the raw beauty that she possessed.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, but eventually your full bladder demanded your attention and you straightened yourself upright to fix the non-ergonomic hunch that you had sat in, abandoning your sketch to go into the bathroom. You made sure to fix up your appearance and brush your teeth to get more comfortable, no other reason, just to get the day started. You were totally not expecting to pick up where you had left off with Natasha the night before. No. You flushed the toilet, sprayed some of that average-priced perfume of yours on your wrists and immediately rubbed most of it off when you realized that you had a professional spy in your bedroom who would take one sniff at you and know that you had put on perfume for her. You didn’t want to come off as desperate. You washed your face, wiping the sleep off your eyes, your skin regaining its radiance and freshness with a layer of moisturizer.

When you returned into the bedroom, to your surprise, Natasha was awake, sitting casually against the headboard with the sketchbook in her hands. You froze, unsure of how she was going to react to the life-like drawing that reflected her appearance with surprising accuracy, even in your own, humble opinion. Her eyes met yours, a smile finding her lips when she was met with your gaze that reminded her a bit of a poor deer caught in headlights. You took a step forward to avoid making the situation even more awkward, slowly returning to bed, Natasha’s eyes dipping down your body to note the fact that you had found clothes.

“How do you do it?” She asked in awe, her voice coarse and low from sleep, a gentle flutter going through you. Her eyes went back to the pencil drawing, her fingers caressing the edge of the pages as if itching to flip through the book. Maybe she already had.

“Do what?” You sat down on the bed, burying your cold feet beneath the duvet.

“Make it so realistic.”

“Um…” You chuckled from nerves despite the fact that Natasha had revealed herself to be a fan of art, especially your art. You didn’t have an answer for her. “I don’t know.” She flipped the page, her eyes landing on those obsessive, messy sketches you had made during your lectures, but her level face told you that she had already seen them. Had it been anyone else you would have felt resentment for having your personal belongings snooped through, but for some reason, with her you felt the need to showcase your work. You wanted her to see the sketches, you wanted her opinion, and above all, you hoped to please her with them.

“You’re incredibly talented. I don’t think you realize…”

“No, I’m…”, you chuckled again, feeling awkward for receiving praise, struggling to look her in the eye when you recalled everything she had said to you in bed.

“You don’t see it, do you?” She glanced at you, flipping the page again.

“Probably not.” You leaned closer to look at the sketch of her sitting in art class. “It just… It doesn’t feel right. I know it sounds dumb, but it’s missing that feeling. I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ll know when it’s there.”

“You’re not satisfied. I get that”, she hummed in understanding, going back to the sketch of her sleeping, admiring the dreamy quality that the smudged lead around the edges gave to it.

“Yeah. Anyways, did you sleep well? How’s your body doing?” You didn’t want to focus on your lacking drawing skills, so you sought for a way out of the conversation, bothered by the fact that you had yet again failed to capture her presence in the way you wished to. Natasha smirked.

“Oh, my body is more than okay”, she said knowingly, closing the sketchbook and handing it back to you, her smile wearing off on you.

“I meant your injuries.” You huffed out a small laugh.

“They’re alright. I’ll live.”

“Good.” You couldn’t stop smiling, staring at her for inappropriately long as she sat there in your sheets, naked with her messy curls. “Are you hungry?” You should have already known the answer to that, Natasha’s smirk turning into a wild grin.

“Oh, boy, am I.” Her eyes dropped down to your tank top, her lower lip finding itself clamped between her teeth as she took in the lace hemming of your shirt that matched with the waistband of your underwear. You might have put on a set just to please her. She glanced up at you briefly before her eyes took in the shape of your breasts that could be seen through the thin material, her hand reaching for your arm. “Come here.” You crawled closer to her, gladly allowing her to pull you into her embrace, a small giggle falling from your lips when she buried her face into your neck. “How do you look so good, hmm?” She opened her mouth, biting down gently to hear you squeal, Natasha chuckling quietly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “How did I find myself a girl this pretty?” You laughed again, warmth stirring within you from the way your body pressed into hers, your mind painfully aware of the fact that she was fully nude.

“By having taste”, you scoffed playfully, Natasha pulling back just so you could see her roll her eyes, but the gesture was nothing if not loving.

“Oh, she’s sassy too, I see”, she hummed a bit teasingly as if to herself.

“Would you want me to be more coy, more submissive?” Your tone was laced with sarcasm. You had no intention to be anything but yourself, although there was room for persuasion. She would merely have to say the words. “I can be anything you want as long as I’m yours.” It was all meant to be a playful, little tease, but you did want confirmation that everything that had been said the night before hadn’t just been sex-crazed confessions that meant nothing outside of the four walls of your bedroom. You could tell that your words got to her, those jade eyes turning hungry, her gaze lingering on your lips as her hand found your waist.

“You’re mine, detka”, she whispered, your cheeks heating violently at the low tone of her voice, arousal pooling in your lower abdomen. Oh, dear god. You gave her a smile, excitement beaming through the gesture.

“Good.” You had no words for the intense feeling of belonging that you experienced in her arms. You just knew you were meant to be there and nowhere else.

“Now I can cross ‘sassy girlfriend’ off my bucket list”, she mused, her sleepy eyes playful.

“You have a bucket list?” You asked in suspicion, wrapping your arms around her neck to stay close.

“No. Or I did, but you were the only thing on it”, she said jokingly, your laughter resonating in the otherwise quiet room.

She pulled you closer, her lips finding the side of your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, her fingers sliding the strap of your top down to get it out of the way, the material drooping lower on your breasts. She kissed the bare expanse of your chest, guiding you to lie down beside her on the bed, her lips remaining glued to your body. She moved to your side, a quiet groan of pain falling from her lips. Her movements were slow and controlled, clearly limited by the ache in her ribs, but she seemed relatively unaffected. She pulled back from you, propping her head into the palm of her hand so she could look down at you, her free hand pulling you flush against her naked body. You loved how comfortable she seemed with you, her nudity only solidifying the impression she was giving you. She didn’t mind being seen by you, maybe she even wanted it specifically, your eyes dropping down to her soft breasts. They were pale, her nipples hard from the cold air they were exposed to, a couple of red marks lingering on her skin from the night before. You didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were beyond pleased to be so close to her, your mouth finding her breast on its own as her fingers sank into your hair only to bring you even closer. She couldn’t resist you and your warm mouth, her body leaning into you automatically, searching for more as she carded her fingers through your hair.

Natasha got more comfortable on the bed, her leg hooking over your body as her fingers trailed down your upper back, a small smile that you couldn’t see lingering on her lips. You kissed her chest, locating her collarbones in the process of going up to her neck. You felt the soft moan that she let out, the gentle vibration reaching your lips as you kissed up her throat, your body reacting to the sound with sudden vigor, a happy grin finding your lips. The feeling was so intense that the smile was incapable of holding back your giggle. Natasha responded to it with one of her own as she rolled you into the sheets, her laughter flowing into a melodic chuckle that warmed your heart. She rested her weight over you, returning your kisses with loud and sloppy ones, her warm, wet mouth tickling your ear and neck. You arched into her, savoring the comfort that her toned frame brought you, your arms wrapping around her waist to keep her close. She pulled back enough to see your face, observing you for a long moment, her hand coming up to caress your jaw with the very tips of her fingers as she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind”, she pointed out quietly, her fingers moving into your hair to play with it as she shifted her body slightly to the side, settling beside you with her head propped up by her elbow. You held her gaze for a moment, your cheeks warming up from how intimate it all felt.

“Last night, you said you didn’t wanna risk my safety. What did you mean by that?” You felt your insides twist from arousal as you recalled the very moment she had said those words. Natasha acquired a look of mild worry onto her features, her smile fading away.

“My work is… well, dangerous, to put it lightly. It’s why I prefer being single, being alone. It makes everything easier because I won’t have to worry about anyone coming after the ones I love, if there’s no one to love.” You felt the sad frown on your face before you even registered the emotion, your eyes returning to her solemn face. “I tried to keep it that way, but you…” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched onto her lips, her hand cupping your face as her gaze roamed all over your features. “You made it impossible.”

“Does this mean someone is gonna assassinate me?” You asked in a lighter tone to ease the sudden glumness in the atmosphere, but Natasha didn’t allow herself to laugh.

“No”, she mumbled quietly, tugging you closer as if to protect you from the nonexistent dangers of your bedroom. “You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.” You nodded your head, your entire body burning up in scorching flames from the subtle display of protectiveness. Oh, good god, what a woman.

“I have another question.”

“Let’s hear it then.” She gave you a small smirk, clearly pleased by your curious nature.

“Was it really just a coincidence that we ran into each other at the mall?” Natasha looked away, her sly smirk telling you everything you needed to know, your face breaking into an astonished grin.

“No”, she mumbled quietly, as if unwilling to admit to such a thing. “I followed you there.” You looked at her with your round eyes, unable to believe what she was saying.

“And your friend?”

“There was no friend. I had a day off, and nothing better to do.” She chuckled softly, continuing with her explanation. “I was gonna go to your campus, but then I saw you walking toward the subway and, well…”

“Wow, you’re such a creep”, you huffed sarcastically, Natasha rolling her eyes.

“Yeah? Shall we take another look at your sketchbook? Talk about a creep”, she countered in amusement, tickling your side teasingly, a small squeak escaping you.

“I’m so glad it wasn’t just me”, you said in a giggle, pushing her hand away as if you would have actually been against her touching you. She chuckled at the little squeal you let out.

“It wasn’t just you.” She kissed your forehead again, her hand moving down to the hem of your shirt, sliding up your front to rest over your bare sternum where she could very clearly feel your erratic heart thud against your ribs.

Breakfast was delayed by wet, sloppy kisses that trailed down your chest, both of you thoroughly appreciative of the comforting atmosphere of your bedroom until your rumbling stomachs got too loud to be ignored. The only problem was that you didn’t have any groceries, none, absolutely nothing, if you didn’t count the box of uncooked pasta and a bag of flour that both sat on your otherwise empty shelves. You really should have been taking much better care of your eating habits. You could always go out for breakfast. Manhattan had an assortment of amazing diner options, but you didn’t want to leave your cozy apartment because you feared that it was going to ruin the perfectly domestic atmosphere that you and Natasha had created for yourselves. Additionally, your protective side refused to let her walk more than a couple of feet with what may very well have been a case of broken ribs.

You switched the coffee maker on while Natasha washed the remnants of sleep off her face in the bathroom. You lent her more clothing options, all your skincare and lotions, even managing to find a spare toothbrush for her, willing to do just about anything to make her comfortable. And when you said anything, you truly meant anything.

“Hey, Nat, I’m gonna go across the hall real quick! I’ll be right back!” You hollered through the closed door of the bathroom, receiving an affirmative response before you exited your apartment and made your way to Mrs. Verlice’s door. You knocked on it, feeling your heart stutter from nerves. You really hated to be that kind of a neighbor, but it was your best option. The door opened, Mrs. Verlice taking a long, hard look at you as you stood there awkwardly on her doormat.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but… would you happen to have any bread?” You felt mortified for even asking, but she was the only person in the building who you had ever spoken to, and she was your best shot.

“Bread? For what?” She grumbled, her eyes studying your pajamas and morning slippers.

“Yeah, I kind of don’t have any food at home. I was gonna go shopping yesterday but something came up and…” Mrs. Verlice squinted at you.

“That woman”, she noted with sudden confidence. She knew for a fact that someone had come over to your apartment, and you knew that her peeping hole was to blame for all the spying she had done.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not in any trouble, are ya?” She eyed you intensely, calculating every square inch of your body to try to figure out your situation, eyes lingering on your neck. You might have had a hickey there.

“Oh, no, no. Nothing of the sort. See… I got a friend over and…” God, why did it have to be so awkward. “I just need something to feed her”, you chuckled jokingly, but you really did need something Natasha could eat. She was starving, she must have been. Mrs. Verlice smiled knowingly.

“She’s not vegan or whatever the hell that is?” There was a very clear hint of disdain in her tone. You gave her a small smile, trying to appeal to her to the best of your abilities.

“No.”

“Alright. Wait here.” And so, you waited, patiently listening to Mrs. Verlice explain the situation to her husband as the sound of dishes clinking carried into the hallway. You couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, or why it took so long for her to find a couple of slices of bread, but you soon received your answer when she returned with a whittle basket filled with food, your eyes widening in shock.

“Oh, no. You shouldn’t have. I would have been fine with just the bread”, you protested softly, truly appalled by her generosity. She shook her head dismissively.

“I got nine kids. I’m used to feeding a bunch of rascals”, she huffed, a small smile caressing her lips for just a moment as she recalled each of her children, her mind most likely filled with many memories of the now adult children that had once been your age and younger.

“Thank you”, you whispered, accepting the heavy basket, your brows furrowing into a small frown. “Is there anything I could do to repay you? I have money, or if you want me to draw you something-“

“No. You take that food and go. Make your girlfriend happy”, she said in a definitive tone, the use of that specific term catching you off-guard. You almost wanted to ask her what she meant by it, if she knew about your sexuality, but you decided against it, finding it unnecessary. “Johnny’s had too much bacon anyway. His arteries are about to burst, cholesterol through the roof.” You laughed quietly at her comment.

“Thank you again. I’ll make this up to you. I promise.” Mrs. Verlice didn’t say a word, simply waved her hand in a rather indifferent way and slammed the door in your face. You turned around and headed back into your apartment to set up breakfast for your very own Avenger.

“Where the hell did you find all this? I thought you didn’t have anything. How long was I in the bathroom?” Natasha asked in astonishment, walking over to the small dining table with her brow arched. Her gait seemed a bit better after a full night of sleep. She looked down at the assortment of food, finding a stack of pancakes, toast with sunny side up eggs, bacon, and a carton of orange juice.

“I have superpowers”, you said playfully, adding your jar of jam and another of peanut butter on the table, chuckling softly, Natasha squinting your way, walking right past the dinner table to you, her lips pressing down on the top of your head in a chaste kiss.

“It’s from that old lady across the hall, isn’t it?” She was far too good at her job not to put the puzzle pieces together by herself.

“Yeah.”

You both sat down at the table, gladly digging in on the delicious breakfast, your aching stomachs finally at ease after the long wait they had endured. There was a comfortable silence that engulfed you as you ate your food, Natasha’s foot resting against your own under the table, her toes occasionally brushing against your foot or ankle. She liked to be connected to you in whatever way was accessible, her body craving to be near you. The meal stretched on for much longer than you had anticipated. You made more coffee for the both of you, returning to the dining table with your sketchbook in hand, a spark of inspiration finding its way back to you with sudden confidence. You needed to capture her aura, and as impossible as it sounded, you felt like you could do it. The setting felt perfect in a way you couldn’t explain, the gloomy weather outside wrapping the moment in a warm and fuzzy veil of comfort that contrasted perfectly with the radiant happiness that billowed from your small apartment. The dark clouds of the sky, the wet, browning leaves outside surrounding you with a certain ubiquity, Natasha’s light, your light, shining through like a splash of vermillion against the dull grays of autumn. You needed to capture that contrast, that moment, in your notebook, in your drawing, painting, whatever. It didn’t matter which medium you used, you simply needed to capture it by any means possible, and a pencil and your trusty sketchbook happened to be the most accessible option.

Natasha sipped on her coffee, eyeing you curiously as you started sketching again, your eyes going back and forth between her and the pages in front of you. She could see the way the sketch formed through a practiced process of defining shapes, her eyes following along as you drew her seated position across the round table. She remained still on her own, not requiring any instructions from you. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, unless to take a sip of her coffee, maintaining her position for you without questioning it. She could see from your eyes that you had a specific vision that you were looking to fulfill, and she would have never dared to disrupt your creative process when she could so clearly see that you were fully in your element, reaching for something that only you could see.

Over the course of her career as a model, and as a spy, she had taken a liking to observing people. She had no problem sitting opposite of another person as an object of their observation because the other person was as much of an object as she was. Natasha had an undeniably good opportunity to form a very meticulous judge of character from her spot as a silent observer. She had learned to read the most minute details of a person’s facial expressions, and she was capable of making many very thoroughly rationalizable judgments about those who thought that only they were doing the observing. Sometimes people would forget her presence altogether, but contrary to popular belief, that was when her game of observing got infinitely better. That was when people’s true identities and personalities came out to play, and she would get a front row seat to the wonders of their minds, which was exactly why she had no problem posing for you for as long as you would possibly need her to. She enjoyed sitting still and being quiet, grateful to get yet another peek at your creative side. It had been all too long since she had last felt those calculating, admiring eyes on her.

The sketch came along with surprising ease, your hand flying over the paper in gentle strokes of your pencil. You defined the outline of her frame, shaping in her hair, her face, her shoulders, her knit sweater. You left the room a couple of times to find a different grade of graphite, searching for a deeper contrast, looking to make the drawing truly pop up from the paper. You even got a couple of colored pencils to map out the color palette of the moment, the feeling, that you were chasing after. You hadn’t decided to make a painting of her, or any colored piece for that matter, but the process seemed to flow into that direction on its own. You couldn’t resist it, wanting to remember all the colors that you felt within that moment, the contrast of warm and cold, dark and light, and above all, the harmony they created.

It took you an hour, nearly two, to finish the small, relaxed sketch you had made of her, the attention to detail having demanded more of your time, but it was all worth the effort. You looked down at your sketchbook, an intense sense of rightness consuming you. The drawing was done, and you could finally feel that specific feeling, her energy, transmit to the viewer through the image. You felt Natasha’s soft, unyielding presence that always demanded your attention, when you looked at the drawing, her regal composure coming through in a casual, quiet way. She looked divine in a mundane sense, her steadfast demeanor shining through the relaxed pose as she sat before the breakfast setting, a half-eaten stack of pancakes in front of her. You stood up from your chair, a wild grin on your lips as you made your way to Natasha, kissing her from pure joy.

“You’re perfect. Ah, you’re perfect! Magnificent”, you mumbled between kisses, Natasha’s chuckle getting muffled by your mouth. “I could actually squeal right now. I could squeal like a little kid getting candy for breakfast… and it’s all because of you”, you said, Natasha’s expression matching your wide smile as she pushed herself back on her chair enough to fit you between her and the table. You followed her silent urging and straddled her lap, her hands falling automatically to your hips, sliding down to your buttocks, fingertips rubbing gently over the thin flannel you wore.

“Squeal away”, she chuckled, looking up at you with a small smile, her hands wandering down your thighs as if massaging you absentmindedly. You could barely take it, your heightened emotions reacting to her touch in an instant. You needed to kiss her again, so you did. “Can I see it?” She asked as you pulled away from the chaste kiss.

“Uh-huh.” You reached across the table for the sketchbook to bring it between you, Natasha’s eager eyes finding the finished drawing. She looked at it for a moment, studying the very detailed image of how you saw her, her gaze lingering on the lead that marked the paper, slowly moving to the color wheel you had mapped out onto the next page.

“It’s beautiful. I love it”, she hummed quietly, glancing up at your face that was filled with excitement.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I can feel it. The thing you said about that specific feeling. Something’s different here.” Her eyes moved back down to the pages, her thumbs stroking over your waist in a way that made it harder for you to focus on her words.

“What do you feel?” You asked in curiosity, searching for her eyes, a small smile finding Natasha’s lips as she took the notebook from your hands and placed it behind you on the table, pulling you flush against her. She kissed you firmly, her left hand trailing up your back and into your hair, her right one pulling your hips closer to her lap. Had she not been injured she wouldn’t have wasted another second at the kitchen table, but her bruised ribs wouldn’t allow her to stand up without difficulty, let alone carry you into your bedroom, so she stayed there in the fading scent of bacon and pancakes, her tongue caressing the seam of your lips, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Instead of giving her access, you pulled away, a smug look on your face. “Now you’re just giving me a lady boner.”

“Wow, what an eloquent way to put it”, she chuckled, warmed by the mirth that shone in your eyes.

“For lack of a better term”, you mumbled, leaning back in to kiss her. “But seriously, what do you feel?” Natasha didn’t even glance at the drawing, a hint of something that you couldn’t quite decipher on her face as she looked at you, your gazes locked together as if neither of you could do anything but look at one another.

“I just feel you”, she whispered earnestly. You looked into her impossibly green eyes, feeling like you were going to drown in the coolness of her forest green irises that reminded you of pine trees and heavy rain. “I feel adored and respected. I feel beautiful… all the things that I feel when you look at me.”

“You are beautiful.” You cupped her face with your hands, studying her unique features before gently ghosting your finger over the wound on her head. It had healed shut, but you should have probably put a bandage of some sorts on it. Your eyes met again, your fingertips sliding into her hair to push it back enough to see her face in all its glory. Your lips were mere inches away from hers, her weak breath fanning over your chin as you played with her thick locks, observing her features as up-close as humanly possible. You kissed her slowly, so slowly that you were teasing yourself more than you were teasing her, your underwear suddenly more than uncomfortable. “Wanna take care of my lady boner?” You asked in a playful, little quip, Natasha bursting into laughter, her face finding your neck to muffle the sound. You couldn’t help but to laugh along with her, the sound mixing with her low, melodic laugh, creating a soft harmony.

“I’d be honored to.” You giggled quietly, her mouth tickling your neck in a way that made your back arch. “Come on, sweetheart.” She patted your thigh gently, prompting you to get up. You didn’t make it farther than the living room couch before she was laying on top of you, her lips beelining to the waistband of your pants as you squirmed against the cushions, a ridiculous, sappy smile on your face when you remembered that every single other person in your class was sitting on a lecture, listening to the professor talk about something boring while you had a redheaded woman –your girlfriend– going down on you, her firm hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

A/N: Only epilogue left!

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