a/n: you and natasha agree to be friends with benefits — but there's one condition
definitely contains a bit of smut but i didn't want to tag it as such because it just wouldn't do the story justice
A gentle, damp breeze is blowing through the window, filling your room with the smell of rain. You can hear the gentle ebb and flow of the traffic outside, a noise that doesn't even disappear when it's night in New York. The city's awake, just like you.
Natasha's curled up next to you, her breathing slow and steady as she keeps staring out the floor-to-ceiling window. You can feel her heated skin against yours, an electrifying feeling that leaves you tingling all over.
You've had wine to drink. A bit too much, to be honest. You're not drunk, no — but you're tipsy. Both of you are. And everyone knows about what alcohol can do to your body, and your mind, and your inhibitions. Things you've experienced before, and things you'll experience again.
"Nat", you mumble lazily, your voice sounding like a sigh. She looks at you, and your eyes meet. For a split second, your throat closes up. You don't even know what you were planning to say anymore — all you can do is stare at her face, into her eyes.
Natasha keeps her eyes locked with yours. Her hand slowly moves over your stomach as she inches closer, and your heart is thumping in your chest as she presses herself up against you. "What?", she finally asks, her gaze flickering to your lips.
"I don't know", you eventually whisper. Her eyes look almost dark in the dim light, and her lips are full and soft and so enticing. You swallow, the alcohol having dazed your mind to an extent that it's almost impossible for you to think straight.
You shouldn't be doing this, you both know that. You're friends — you have been for years — and taking a step like this could either ruin everything or improve your life so drastically that you can't even begin to imagine. Knowing your luck, though, you don't feel like the latter scenario is that likely.
But at the same time, you don't really care. You've pushed all doubts and fears away and, right now, only Natasha exists.
Her red hair, slightly messy and smelling of ylang-ylang and jasmine; her olive eyes, so deep and familiar; her warm skin, smooth and silky underneath your fingertips as you brush them along her jaw.
The haze that's taken over your mind seems to intensify with every second that you spend marveling at her.
First you lean in, your nose brushing against hers. Her breath, sweet and mildly alcoholic, fans over your lips. And when you kiss her, you both freeze for a short period of time. It's new, unexpected, unfamiliar. You have never kissed before, and this feels like ripping open a world that's been sealed for an eternity. You explore it with your lips, your tongue, your hands, until you pull away again.
Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is heaving. If you were only a little more sober, you'd be cursing yourself right now — but you're not, so you lean in again.
Natasha's breath hitches in her throat when she feels your lips on hers yet another time. She swallows the kiss, savors it and feels it everywhere. Sensations shoot through her body, new ones, making it unable for her to move. A part of her brain is telling her to stop, yelling that this is a horrible idea. Millions of alarms are going off inside her, and she's ignoring every single one of them.
At some point, when you feel your hands starting to roam her body, you have to break the kiss. It's something that can't just keep going like this, and even you, in your tipsy condition, know that.
"What was this?", Natasha mumbles, her breathing shallow and her forehead resting against yours. You close your eyes, incapable to respond. It takes a lot of strength to eventually say something.
"I don't know. But I liked it."
"We're friends", she reminds you. You can hear the reluctance in her voice.
"I know", you say, looking out the window again and seeing the stunning view of the city that the Stark Tower offers you.
Natasha's still so close to you — too close, almost. You can feel her every movement, her body still snug against yours.
This is far too complicated. You've been friends for nearly four years, and you feel like you found a kind of soulmate in her. You're her haven, her safe place, the one she runs to when she's hurting. When you have exciting news, she's the first one to find out. She's the only one who listens to your dreams, your nightmares, your sometimes chaotic thoughts.
You love each other deeply — and you can't risk losing her.
"I'm sorry", you say. "I don't know what happened. I guess it's the wine."
Natasha keeps her eyes glued to your face, her hand reaching out to trace the tiny healed scar over your eyebrow. "Really?", she murmurs.
"Yes." You look at her, hesitating. "I mean, it was nice. But..."
"But what?"
"Like you said — we're friends. And I don't want us to do something stupid." You rub your eyes, your mind racing.
"This would be stupid?", she asks you to clarify. Internally, Natasha doesn't agree with that statement at all. The kiss was short, lacking experience and made you both trip into it with such surprise that she shouldn't even like the way it felt — but, actually, it's the complete opposite. She wants to repeat it, over and over again until she has memorized the feeling of your lips on hers.
You lean back against the headrest, looking at her. "Imagine if it doesn't work out. How do we remain friends?"
"It's us", she just says. "How wouldn't we remain friends?"
You close your eyes. "Nat."
"You know it's true."
"We can't guarantee that."
She rests her head against the crook of your neck, her fingertip tracing the edge of your collar and causing every single cell in your body to light up. You swallow, glancing at her again, as you try to form a coherent thought. Just one.
You stand no chance.
"You know, there's this thing", you say slowly. "It's called 'friends with benefits'. I don't know if you've heard of that..."
"I have." She narrows her eyes. "Where are you going with this?"
"You know that very well." Your voice is quiet, hesitant. Even though you were tipsy just minutes ago, you couldn't feel more sober now. "It's just a thought."
Natasha doesn't say anything for a moment. She keeps her head on your shoulder, staring at your lap.
"And then what?", she whispers.
Suddenly, you're overly aware of her close proximity. You've cuddled before — but never like this. It gives you that last boost that you need to say what's on your mind.
"We remain friends. But we add the physical intimacy."
Natasha finds herself leaning in even closer to you, her breath quickening as heat sweeps through her body. She doesn't give you a verbal answer, but her entire body is responding to your words. Her mind starts wandering, silently exploring the possibilities that this arrangement would give you, the limits you'd be allowed to explore. To her own surprise, she actually considers the idea. Heavily considers it.
Why not, after all? She's always been attracted to you in some way. And this would only take it to a new level.
But then you say something that makes her want to back off instantly.
"There's just one condition: we can't catch feelings."
Her eyes move up to look at your face again. She desperately wants to reject this, deep down knowing that it's a bad idea, but she can't bring herself to do that. She knows that the chance of both of you staying emotionally detached — at least romantically — is close to zero. One will develop feelings, that's inevitable.
Natasha doesn't say that out loud. Instead, she nods.
"I'll need a verbal answer", you say softly.
"Yes", she whispers.
"Okay." Your heart is beating a mile a minute as you're sitting there, your eyes locking with hers. "So..."
The woman next to you can't help but blush as the realization of what you just agreed to starts sinking in. She can't decide whether she likes it or not, as she doesn't know enough about it.
That's why Natasha leans in, her lips getting dangerously close to yours again. Your nose brushes against hers as your fingertips touch her cheek, then you gently cup her face. Her eyes pierce into yours, seemingly searching for your approval; the tiny nod you give her satisfies Natasha, and she closes the gap between your lips.
What felt unfamiliar and exciting is now something entirely different. The kiss is slow, filled with longing and a sense of relief that feels both unsettling and soothing at the same time. You both allow yourselves — and each other — to take your time in exploring this new sensation, letting it wash over you and slowly get used to it.
The kiss, once careful and temperate, quickly turns heated and mind numbing. Natasha reaches her hands up to run them through your hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue tracing the outline of her bottom lip. You gasp quietly when she tugs at the roots of your hair, sending jolts of light through your veins.
You pull her closer, wanting her to melt into you. She lets out a silent moan when you grab her waist possessively, her body crashing into yours. You keep kissing on top of the sheets, the quiet prattling of the rain outside filling the room with a barely noticeable background noise.
You don't know what's more intoxicating: the alcohol or Natasha. All you know is that you're completely lost in these feelings, this moment, and that you wouldn't change it for the world.
You run your hands under her shirt, making her breathing grow more erratic as your fingertips graze her skin. You find your way to her bra, lightly toying around with it as you continue kissing her. Then you finally let it snap open, the tightness of her bra around her upper body instantly vanishing. Natasha's cheeks flush as she feels her nipples, hardened and sensitive, brush against the fabric of her cotton bra as it slips off.
During all these years, neither of you ever dared to even change your shirt in front of the other one. Too big was your fear of making her uncomfortable, or causing a change in your relationship.
And now? Now you're naked, both of you, and tangled up between the clean sheets on your bed. The touches are intimate, the kisses full of yearning and lust, and as you keep going further and further, a quiet part of Natasha's mind wishes it could stay like that. She's never fully felt comfortable around anyone but you, and even like this — naked and vulnerable — you manage to make her feel at ease.
Her mouth forms a perfect o-shape as you kiss her collarbone, your lips slightly apart to let the tip of your tongue taste her skin. She lets out a silent sigh, her eyes closing when she feels your mouth get lower, nearing her chest. Your hand is between her thighs, your fingers slowly spreading the wetness and slipping into her, and it takes all of her strength not to moan out loud.
She's craving you in ways that she never could've predicted — and that feeling is mutual.
What happens that night is something that'll stay engraved in your mind forever. You reach heights — once, twice — doing the things you usually wouldn't have dared to do in your wildest dreams. You're completely consumed by one another, locked into this little bubble that you created in your bedroom.
You feel like you could keep going until the world ends, but at some point you're just too exhausted. You collapse next to each other, your chest flushed and heaving with every breath you take. Natasha's body is humming with the aftermath of what just happened, and she can't seem to catch her breath either.
She glances at you, silently admiring the outlines of your face.
"Well", you say quietly. "This was...something."
Her lips curl into a tiny smirk, her cheeks are tinted red. "Agree."
You nod, your breathing slowly steadying itself. You wrap your arms around her as you draw her closer, feeling her in your embrace. Skin on skin, her head on your chest, you fall asleep.
. . .
The morning after is interesting, to say the least. Neither of you are sure whether it's inappropriate to share a quick kiss before getting up, so you decide not to do it. You scramble out of bed, run your hand through your hair and painfully get reminded of the meeting that you have to be at soon when glancing at the pinboard above your desk.
Natasha shoots you a mildly panicked look. "We have ten minutes."
"Fuck", you curse, hurrying to slip into fresh underwear. "Grab whatever you need."
You haste to the meeting room together, your hair a mess and dark circles under your eyes. All attention is on you when you burst into the room, apparently interrupting Tony.
He raises his eyebrows as he looks at you. "Look who's up. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to say everything twice."
You can't hide the blush that appears on your face. You sit down, very aware of the fact that you both look suspicious — your hair is messy, Natasha's wearing your clothes, and you're both late. If nobody figures it out, then they're all either oblivious or stupid as hell.
You somehow manage to get through the meeting, but not without you and Natasha sharing a few too many glances and suppressed smiles. The memories of last night flood you, heat up your face, make you get lost in your thoughts.
Friends with benefits — no strings attached.
Yeah, sure.
. . .
You have no idea how it happens again.
Somewhere between sitting in her room, watching a movie and barely talking you manage to end up on top of her, your heart racing and your hands shaking. The adrenaline is rushing through your body as you kiss her, your lips locking, your bodies flush. The heat between you rises to almost unbearable levels, and it gets increasingly harder for Natasha to keep her emotions from spilling out of her.
Every kiss, every touch — it makes you wonder how you ever survived without this. It's wonderfully mesmerizing, intoxicating to the point where you don't even know what you're doing. It's just happening and you can't do anything about it.
You run your lips over her chest, trailing kisses down her stomach, over her waist, towards the spot that makes Natasha breathless. Her head drops onto the pillow, her back arches, and the moans that escape her mouth are sweet and addictive. You repeat your actions, tasting her on your tongue and making her moan over and over again.
Your fingertips curl into her thighs, your nails buried in her flesh. Your nose bumps against her clit as you keep eating her out, tasting her on your tongue. She whines quietly, her hands running through your hair as she looks for something to hold on to.
The climax hits her with such intensity that she crumbles underneath you. Natasha's a mess, but only for you.
You look at her, seeing her closed eyes and her reddened cheeks. You can't stop the thought that immediately enters your head, the one that you've thought so many times and that you'll keep thinking until the day you die: she's beautiful.
You crawl up, lightly kissing her lips and letting her taste herself. She looks at you, her eyes saying more than words could. Her hands placed on your cheeks, she kisses you again, but this time with more force. You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing her to get lost in it too. You don't plan on finding your way out of it so soon either, and that eases you.
You spend another night together.
. . .
It happens more often than you'd like to admit.
Natasha sneaks into your bed, or you into hers. You relieve the tension that builds up over the day when you have no opportunity to be alone, and you definitely make it worth the wait. The hours fly by, and you barely notice it as you're so focused on each other. You've started to talk more again — but that usually doesn't last long as you quickly find your way into a kiss, which then inevitably leads to sex.
So far, it's still just sex. You're sleeping with each other — nothing more, nothing less. And you're both still convinced you're still just friends, but friends who get to enjoy the physical benefits of a relationship. You haven't discussed this arrangement ever since you first agreed to it, and neither of you really wants to do that now. You both know that if you did, you'd probably find out things that you don't want to find out.
"My room?", you ask lowly as you're walking away from the dining room with Natasha. You just had dinner with the others, and you're now free for the night.
Natasha smiles. "I'll be there."
You talk, but the conversation doesn't go deeper than necessary before you're intertwined again. The heat of your bodies creates friction between you, making it hard for you to breathe or think. Natasha's in your lap, her legs wrapped around your waist as she kisses you deeply. Her thumbs caress your cheeks, and it doesn't take more than that for the butterflies in your stomach to go absolutely wild.
You put your hands on her waist, running them over her skin, feeling the heat underneath your palms. You tap your fingers against her skin, lightly stroking it and making her blush profusely.
Natasha pulls away, her pupils dilated and her lips swollen. You can't quite decipher the look in her eyes, which is suddenly so different than it typically is. She swallows, her eyes still glued to yours, and then leans in to kiss you once more.
. . .
As the days go by, Natasha and you start finding new places that allow you to be intimate with each other.
The sauna downstairs, the shower, even the bedroom floor with only a rug underneath you — you both feel bolder now, and your creativity is endless when it comes to this. You're not even that worried about anyone catching you, but mainly because neither of you is able to think straight anymore.
The moan you let out when Natasha moves her hips again is ungodly. You tighten your grip on her waist, your eyes closing as you feel her clit create friction with yours. This is definitely a new position, so you both don't have much experience with it, but you already know you'll be repeating this.
"Fuck", she curses quietly, her baby hairs sticking to her skin. Her neck is covered in glistening sweat, and her chest is full of small love bites and red marks. You look at her, watching every move and feeling that familiar sensation in your stomach tighten. She's close, and so are you.
"I'm not going to last long", you warn her, your voice hoarse and quiet. Natasha leans in, kissing you as she keeps riding her hips into yours. You open your mouth, tasting her tongue and swallowing the kiss.
You come together, whimpering out moans and collapsing into each other.
The feeling of her weight in your arms is something that will never fail to make your heart swell.
. . .
You interrupt a conversation between Natasha and Wanda one morning. They're in the common room, sitting on the couch and talking about a topic that instantly makes you listen up.
"The thing is, how do I find someone? It's just so impossible, like dating isn't even fun anymore", Wanda rants, Natasha listening with a small frown.
You pause in the doorway, unsure whether you want to join them or not — but Wanda quickly takes that decision away from you.
"What do you think?", the younger one asks after spotting you. "Like, how do you find your soulmate?"
You shift uncomfortably. "Well, you just don't lose hope, I guess. Keep looking or whatever."
Natasha's gaze is fixed on you; but the second you turn to look at her, she averts her eyes. The stinging feeling in your chest is more present than ever, and your shoulders sink as you remember what you said weeks ago.
'We can't catch feelings.'
. . .
At 11pm, you meet again. But this time, something's changed. The air between you is different, and your words sound weird and like they're trying to cover up what's actually on your mind.
The look you exchange with Natasha makes your heart shatter into the tiniest of pieces.
"What was up with Wanda, by the way?", you suddenly ask without intending to.
Natasha looks at you, her heart starting to race. "Something about a girl who broke up with her. I don't really know."
"Oh."
She nods, averting her eyes again. "Yeah." A short pause. "You said that, in order to find someone, you should keep looking until you find them."
"I did."
Natasha feels incredibly nervous. Her mind is spinning, her hands feel numb. What happens now will determine everything.
"What if you search for them your entire life?"
Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. You look at her, smiling sadly.
"Then you better make sure they're worth the wait."
"Okay." Another pause, this time a heavy one. "And what if you think you've already found them?"
You feel your heart skip a beat. You think you know exactly what she's insinuating, but at the same time you don't dare to let your hopes go up. Because if you're wrong, it will wreck you.
"Then tell them", you say silently, your gaze flickering to her. Your eyes meet, linger, separate again. "What if they feel the same?"
"But if they don't..."
"Then you at least tried. And you won't spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'."
Natasha feels like crying, sobbing, screaming. The way you said it makes it sound so damn easy, but it's not. Not at all. The words are stuck in her throat, hurting like little daggers. It feels impossible to speak.
But you inch closer, lowering your head to look at her. She meets your gaze, her lips parting for a split second before she closes her mouth again. Then she finally says something, after a dreadfully long moment of silence that feels like an eternity.
"The not catching feelings thing, Y/N. It didn't work."
"I know", you whisper, and she leans her forehead against yours. "I didn't think it would."
"Me too." She inhales a shaky breath, then she tilts her head to let her lips meet yours. The kiss is bittersweet, painful, but also filled with the most lovely kind of relief imaginable.
You're not saying anything anymore, because you don't have to.
Maybe 'friends' was never an option.
. . .
a/n: i loved writing this ❤️🩹