The muscles in her jaw fluttered as she forced out a grounding breath. Whatever awaited beyond, she was spiraling towards it like a terminal inertia plucking her from the world. And Wanda had the distinct feeling she'd been hurtling towards this moment since the first kindling sparks of her mutation ignited within.
There was only one way to slake the siren pull now lapping at her shattered restraint like so many tongues of lustful flame...
With a shuddering exhalation, she seized the handle and shoved her way inside, every cell in her supercharged frame humming like a live wire about to blow its casing apart.
In the steamy, tiled recesses of the locker room, Wanda's hypersensitive senses were immediately addled by the heady rush of dampness, scents of bodywash and heat clashing together in a dizzying haze of eroticism. And there...dominating every fiber of her senses - Natasha.
The bathroom stalls were vacant, their showers dark and empty. All that remained was a lone silhouette perched upon a bench near the far wall, athletic figure silhouetted in stark relief by the dangling overheads. Russet tresses spilled in long, wet ropes down the sinewy slope of Natasha's back, shining like burnished copper.
Wanda must have made some faint sound, because that was the infinitesimal tremor alerting the Widow to her newly formed shadow. Slowly, as if they were two wary tigers appraising one another for the first time, Natasha shifted to pin her with a hooded, indecipherable stare.
Those jaded depths laid her bare at a glance, tracing every plane and curve with a heated appraisal that seared like a brand. Wanda felt like a blissfully trapped insect, canted on the razor's edge of some precipice she could no longer avoid even if she wanted to. Because Nat's sultry smirk confirmed she was the hunter with fangs dripping at the enticing prospect of sinking into new prey.
Natasha's lips parted a fraction, unleashing the barest spectre of a husky purr riding the humid air like an extension of Wanda's still-vivid imaginings. "Well, well...to what do I owe this unexpected audience, little witch?"
Wanda couldn't seem to summon her voice at first, throat rendered as parched as a desert wind by the flagrant, unabashed lust emanating from Natasha in heady waves. The Russian seemed utterly at ease in her elemental Eden, draped naked and flushed from the lingering caresses of hot steam.
Her taut abdomen glistened with Pearl's water beaded across each perfectly sculpted indentation. Plump, carmine lips were pursed in a lascivious moue inviting Wanda's full appreciation of their beauty unbidden. God, how she suddenly, viscerally ached to trace the slick, rosy peaks of those full breasts testing the beads of dampness stippling their welcoming slopes...
"You seem...unsettled," Nat practically purred, emerald eyes glittering with something far more primal than mere mirth. It took the other woman unfurling to her delicious full height, muscles rippling beneath bronzed flesh, for Wanda to locate her scattered words.
"I-I'm not unsettled," she managed in a strangled tone far huskier than intended. Her cheeks were absolutely aflame now, scorlet energy tendrils wafting in agitated pulses around her clenched fists.
Rather than recoil from the shimmering manifestations of chaos, Natasha's teeth grazed her lower lip with a nip and appreciative growl. "Mmm, I can feeeeel your power, Wan. It calls to me like a living beckoning."
The seductive rasp of her words raised another full-body flush of gooseflesh as Wanda tracked Natasha's approach. The Widow stalked forth with a leonine, predatory grace oozing confidence and promise from each rolling hip sway.
Wanda's chest heaved against the sudden drought of air in her lungs. Every slinking step brought Natasha inexorably nearer until the heat rolling off her lithe body was utterly intoxicating in its scope.
Crimson Covenant (ScarletWidow) 18+
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