Work Text:
You had been sitting on your floor, crouched over a sketchbook for hours, trying to figure out the lights and shadows in your sketch. You didn’t have a model because you couldn’t find any pictures that depicted your desired pose, so you decided to go off of your imagination. Bad idea. You looked down at your work, definitely not your best, staring at the image of a nude woman sprawled on a bed, noting that the subject’s hand was at an awkward angle because your mind just couldn’t figure out how to position it. In the process you pointed out every single flaw you could find, sighing heavily as your thumb smudged over the rough material of the paper, smearing the graphite in the process. You were definitely getting frustrated enough to just give up, but you were too stubborn for that. You erased the other hand completely, redrawing it a bit lower. Now it looked too long. You had tried taking reference photos by yourself but you had nothing to prop your phone up with and no one to take the picture for you to capture the right angle that you needed. Gentle footsteps caught your attention, a gentle rattle at your front door alerting you of someone's presence before it swung open. Out of reflex you shut your book, your charcoals and pencils flying all over the carpet. Thankfully it wasn’t white. You gathered them off the floor and set them atop your sketchbook, moving from your sitting position for the first time in hours.
“You have been in your room the entire day!” You heard a voice echo in the living room, the footsteps becoming louder until the door to your room creaked open. “You in here?” You whipped around to see Natasha’s head peeking through the crack of the door, her eyes observing you curiously as you scrambled up from the floor, your ankles and knees letting out loud pops as you straightened yourself upright. You let out a pathetic whine as you shook your limbs, trying to revive your dying leg.
“What the hell happened here?” Natasha asked, feigning her concern as her hands already reached out to support you.
“I was just drawing”, you replied, praying she wouldn’t ask you to show your work.
“Show me.” You should have known better.
“No. It’s - I’m struggling with it. You don’t want to see that”, you assured her, your desperation clear in your voice which only made Natasha more persistent.
“Maybe I could help”, she offered, already crouching down for your sketchbook. You let out a squeal of protest as you yanked the book out of her hands. To be honest you would love to have her help you but you weren’t sure if you could stay focused, having her posing on the bed like that.
“Uh, I’ll figure it out”, you mumbled dismissively. “Did you need me?” You cracked your back gently, wincing in pain as Natasha just frowned at your despair and the cacophony of cracks that your aching back let out as you twisted it again to the other side.
“No, I just wanted to know if you’re okay. Haven’t seen you in a while”, she mumbled, her eyes raking down your figure, before landing on your face. You were looking down at the floor trying to spot the leftover charcoal pieces from the fur carpet, not noticing Natasha sneak to the table you had left your sketchbook on. She slid it off the counter and opened it from where she could see a pencil peek at the top. You turned around just in time to see her reaction. You were about to take the book away from her but the look on her face made you halt. Her mouth was slightly hung open, eyes just a tad bit wider, her head turning to look at you.
“This is...” she started, but didn’t seem to be able to finish. She glanced back down at the drawing and then back at you. “Wow.”
“It’s just a sketch, uh, it’s nothing.” You didn't know why you were embarrassed, as much as it wasn’t your best it wasn’t horrendous either. “I couldn’t quite figure out the lighting and the pose is a bit off. I didn’t have a model”, you rambled, trying to explain every single flaw you knew to be in the drawing.
“Well I’m here now”, she smirked, handing the sketchbook back to you. Letting out an awkward laugh at her joke, you closed the book and set it back down on the table.
“I would never ask you to do that”, you assured her, thinking it was what she was most comfortable hearing. “I was just drawing for fun. It’s not that serious.”
"You're not asking, I'm offering”, Natasha hummed, turning to you with a hopeful look in her eyes.
“No, you don’t have to. I’ll think of something else”, you said hastily, trying to busy yourself with the things on your desk so that she wouldn’t notice how flustered you were. “I’ve painted nude models a couple of times and I can tell you it’s not that fun for the model.”
“You could just say you don’t want to see me naked, you know?” She countered, eyeing you intensely. You gulped, knowing full-well how much you wanted exactly that. She rubbed her lips together before glancing back down at your sketchbook. The room was getting hotter by the second, or maybe that was just you.
“It’s not that... I-“ You didn’t really know what to say. “Um, I mean if you want me to...” you mumbled hesitantly. “That would help me a lot.” Your cheeks were burning hot, so hot that the fiery pits of hell would surely be left second.
A wide, genuine smile spread on her features. She was practically beaming at you as she walked closer to you, her hand reaching for your chin, jade eyes glued to your widened ones. “How do you want me?” She almost whispered, her face only a few inches away from yours. You really did not want to open your mouth because you knew the only sound coming out would be your stuttering. Her hand caressed your jaw before dropping down.
“I- Uh. Well, you saw the pose, right?” And there you went stuttering like an anxious little kid. “Just do that”, you suggested, moving away to go gather your stuff.
You glanced over towards the bed to see Natasha pulling off her shirt. You didn’t really need her to remove her clothes. She could have just done the pose for you but her idea was so, so much better. You rustled your papers around, trying to make some noise so that Natasha wouldn’t know that you were totally staring at her. You watched her pull her arms out of the long sleeves of her shirt before letting it fall to the floor. She was still facing away from you, her hands now reaching for the clasp of her black bra. You felt a little bad for ogling at her like that but the feeling went away the second you watched that bra fall onto the bed. There was just so much bare skin right there in front of you, her creamy complexion making your hands twitch with the need to touch her. You turned away. It felt wrong to look at her like that when you could not control your dirty mind. You focused back on what you were doing, deciding that the scenario was straight out of your dreams and way too good to be simply recreated on a small piece of paper in your battered sketchbook. You walked to your closet and dug out your easel and a bigger sheet of paper. You set it up right at the end of the bed, not even daring to look at what Natasha was doing. Yet not even a minute later you took a peek from behind the backboard that you were taping your paper on, Natasha bending down to take off her pants right in front of you. You just had to look, didn’t you? Face burning from a mix of embarrassment and something else, you pulled back to hide behind the board.
“Do I face you or the wall? You didn’t have a face in the sketch”, Natasha asked. You could hear the sheets scuffle but you were too scared to look, fearing you would drop everything and join her on the bed.
“I don’t know, maybe the wall. It doesn’t matter that much, your face is not the focus of the piece”, you explained, setting up your charcoal, erasers and a rag for blending on a separate stool next to you. “Okay, I’m all set up”, you announced, maybe a little too obviously before moving your gaze to the bed.
“Me too”, Natasha stated, her eyes meeting with yours, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she stared at you, upside down on the bed. You did your best to keep your gaze on her face but it ended up being harder than you could have ever imagined.
“You’re okay with this, right?” You asked nervously, still staring into her bright eyes as she smirked at you.
“I would not be here if I wasn’t.” She had a great point. She was so painfully stubborn that had she not wanted to be in that position, there was absolutely nothing you could’ve done to convince her otherwise. With that in mind you moved your gaze away from her face and to her body.
Natasha was laying almost diagonally on the bed, the crown of her head towards you and the board, her legs resting to the left of the bed, right leg atop the other. She had twisted her top half in a way where both her shoulders touched the sheets as her left hand was set next to her head, her right hand behind her back and out of view. It was an almost perfect copy of the pose you had sketched. The scene before you was straight out of a Renaissance oil painting. You studied every single dip and curve of her body, noting the different shapes and angles. There was a thin scar on her outer thigh that caught your attention before your gaze moved down between her legs. You had to forcibly tear your eyes away from the red curls, the shade lighter than her hair. You craved to skim your hands over the soft skin of her stomach and chest as her body moved up and down gently in tune with her breaths. Your gaze was suddenly glued to the roundness of her chest, her left breast sagging lightly to the side, the other flattened against her ribs. You bit your lip harshly, almost able to feel the softness of her skin in the palms of your hands as you looked at her. Her skin, god, her skin was porcelain-like with soft rose-colored undertones that shone through the almost translucent surface. The shadows that her body created were more of a pale purple, the white sheets taking a bluish tint to them. You noted the darker shade of pink on her hardened nipples that matched her lips, your gaze moving down, back to her face on its own accord. You realized that she hadn’t looked away from you once during your figure study, her eyes boring into yours, inspecting you carefully as she tried to decipher your reaction to her. You could practically feel the tension between you build up, a gentle feeling of longing tugging at your chest. You didn’t want to do a charcoal sketch, you really did not. You needed it to be an oil painting, it was the only way you could replicate her ethereal beauty. Your only concern was whether she had the time for it or not. Oil paintings were time consuming with all the paint mixing, not to mention all the different variables that took place, but you were determined to make sure to give her her time’s worth.
“Nat”, you started quietly, trying to figure out a way to convince her to spend the rest of her day in that exact position on your bed. She hummed, quietly urging for you to continue. “Would you mind if I did an oil painting instead? It would take a lot longer”, you questioned timidly, walking closer to the end of the bed, Natasha’s eyes following your movements. You sank your hand into her red curls, nails scraping her scalp as you pretended to adjust the locks to your liking, but in reality you just wanted to touch her in a way that wouldn’t be considered harassment.
“Sure, do what feels right. I have all the time in the world”, she assured, the corner of her lips rising up slightly. You were mildly surprised at how willing she was to lay in bed the whole day, not allowed to move a muscle.
“Thank you, so much. You don’t even know how much this means to me”, you gushed in excitement, leaning down to press a kiss on her forehead. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Natasha hummed softly, her eyes closed as she savored the hasty kiss she had received, your fueled enthusiasm not allowing you to see that sight as you were already up and about.
You took the board off the easel, digging out an already prepared 18x24 wooden board that had a base color of burnt sienna. It would work wonderfully with the soft tones you were going for. You searched your closet for the little tubes of oil paint, a collection of brushes, palettes, mineral spirits to clean your brushes, painting medium, linseed oil and palette knives, setting it all up as fast as you could to both get to work immediately as well as save some time.
“You can move for now, in fact, I’m suggesting that you do because once I’ve mixed the paints, you’ll get told off for breathing the wrong way”, you joked as you sat down on your stool, moving the easel aside so that you had a better view of her and all the shades you needed to mix. Natasha tilted her chin up to see you better, her back arching off the bed, pushing up her chest. You attempted to covertly hide your blush behind the palette but there was no use because it was made of glass.
“I want to see you work”, she stated, those evergreen eyes fixed on you. “Can I turn around?”
“Sure, for now”, you replied in thought, already very focused on the colors you were mixing. You heard the sheets rustle and the springs groan as your model plopped around on the bed, resting her chin on her folded forearms. You would rather not have the pressure of her watching your every move but you couldn’t help but feel satisfied with the knowledge of her wanting to watch you.
“When did you start?” Natasha asked suddenly, almost startling you out of your thoughts.
“Start what?” You grabbed a little more white with the tip of your palette knife, spreading it around to create a soft pearl tone.
“Painting.”
“Oh, when I was a little kid, although back then I would use craft paint and acrylics”, you explained, a sense of nostalgia washing over you.
“How come you never show your work to anyone?” She asked with a small pout. “I always knew you were the artistic type but this stuff is professional level”, she praised, her words warming up your cheeks immediately.
“I don’t know. It feels so personal. I don’t like people staring into my soul and judging what’s there”, you mumbled quietly. “I don’t like to feel vulnerable like that because the people who look at my work don’t see it the way I do, leaving it open for interpretation. That way they get to judge me based on their own reading of the piece.” You heard Natasha hum quietly, not daring to interrupt you.
“So if they look at, for example, that sketch you saw, they might think it’s profane, inappropriate and they make their opinion about the artist based on that.”
Natasha nodded, her eyes still on you as you finished mixing the paint. You glanced up from your palette to look at her, your eyes momentarily flicking to check her backside before you had the chance to chastise yourself for the thought alone. When you looked back down at her you noticed her gaze had drifted south to the cleavage of your tight top. It was originally a sports top but the material was so supportive that you could use it without a bra which meant you wore it all the time and had it in multiple colors. You glanced down your front to see your low cleavage, your gaze flicking back to meet Natasha’s. Her eyes widened just a smidge as you gave her a cocky smirk.
“Tell me, how did you interpret the sketch?”
You could feel the gears turn in her head as she thought over her answer. She cocked her head to the side, resting her chin in her hand. “To me it felt intimate, like I was seeing something that wasn’t meant for me. Not in an inappropriate way but more private. It felt like I saw a glimpse into someone’s life.” She was staring at her fingers as she fiddled with the white sheet. “It’s like the artist woke up early after a night together with their lover just so they could immortalize that specific moment.” You definitely hadn’t thought of it that way. To you it had simply been a figure study of a pose you had once seen somewhere but you preferred Natasha’s backstory, so much more that you decided to use it for the painting.
“I love that. Can I use it? I’ll make sure to sign your name in the corner of the finished piece”, you suggested, already insanely giddy over the painting.
“Sure, darling”, she chuckled. “But you need to get a more positive outlook on life. Not everyone is going to judge you in a negative light”, she scolded gently, frowning at you in emphasis.
“Yeah, yeah, I know”, you groaned, setting down your palette and getting up to stand at the end of the bed. “Turn around for me.” Natasha rolled around on the bed, settling to the middle of it, remotely close to the original pose.
“Is it okay if I adjust you a bit?” You asked, remembering back from art class how important it was to make your model comfortable. Consent is key and all that.
“I’d let you do more than that”, she smirked, her voice so soft it was hard to hear.
“What?”
“Nothing. Of course you can”, she chirped, still smiling at you innocently.
You walked to the left side of the bed to adjust her legs, pulling them back a bit, noting that her feet were ice cold. Automatically, you crouched down to find a pair of wool socks under your bed, unfolding the little ball before pulling the almost knee-high socks on her feet.
”I thought I was supposed to be nude. Why are you dressing me up?” she quipped teasingly, wiggling her toes in the warm socks.
“Because I want a live model, not a corpse, which is what you’re going to be by the time I finish the painting if I don’t put some clothes on you”, you countered, pinching her toe through the socks.
“Ha-ha very funny”, she groaned but you could tell she was getting cold. It was the middle of the winter after all.
“I’ll first paint the general figure and then I’ll cover up everything but the part I’m painting”, you informed her as your hands landed on her hips to tilt them a bit. You kneeled on the bed, hovering over her as you adjusted her arms. You purposely brushed your hands over her stomach, watching goosebumps erupt at their wake, a gentle gasp coming from Natasha. You backed away to hide behind the wooden board again, Natasha left in mild awe on the bed. You were almost convinced she liked you at least a little bit.
“Is the position comfortable? You won’t be able to move after this.” You watched Natasha nod her response before you moved back behind the easel. Your hands slid into her auburn locks once more to fluff them up a little, her eyes closing at your touch.
You were finally ready to start the painting. You would have to go without an underpainting because you simply didn’t have time for it but you liked challenges anyway. You eyeballed the middle of the board and marked it with a faint cross before moving your gaze back to her. The soft light of the sun that shone through the crack in the curtains illuminated her hair, brightening the shade into vibrant flames. Her skin looked a bit warmer but it was still pale as snow. She glanced up at you briefly, the angle her neck was in not allowing her to see much.
“So, this negative outlook you have on life”, Natasha started, causing you to let out a groan that turned into a chuckle.
“I’m not being negative.”
“You are. And you’re scared”, she stated knowingly.
“Did I ask for a personality analysis?” You sneered, Natasha scoffing in response.
“No, but you’re getting one. I want you to be proud of your art.” She huffed, sounding almost offended. “I’ve only seen one sketch and I know you’re good enough to have a career as an artist.”
You started to sketch out the lines of her body, creating vague blotches to map out her figure. “I don’t want to be an artist.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is all for me. I don’t want to share it with the world”, you explained patiently. You had thought about that career path but decided it wasn’t for you, sharing your work simply didn’t sound like a pleasurable experience.
“Not even with your friends?” She asked quietly. You glanced at her with a small smile.
“I’ll show you later. You’ve earned it.” She gave you a cheeky grin, pleased with your answer, her gaze moving back toward the window, a small smile still playing on her lips. She was adorable, so cute you felt almost helpless. Your eyes were nailed to her and you got caught in your thoughts as you just stared at her, a faraway look in your eyes. You forgot the painting for a moment, you forgot everything as you wondered what it would be like to trace those curves with your lips. It took you way too long to get your mind going again, blinking your eyes a couple of times as you went back to the painting.
“What’s your favorite kind of art?” Natasha’s raspy voice asked after a long moment of silence. ‘You’ was on the tip of your tongue but you refrained, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“I like just about anything traditional. Romanticism and realism are probably my favorites. Oh, and surrealism. I also like some of the most popular Renaissance pieces like Mona Lisa and The Creation of Adam.” Natasha was all ears as she listened to you talk, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open. “I’m actually not that invested in all the greats of the art world. I prefer those lowkey artists who drop a piece or two and you never hear from them again. Or then just regular people who are driven by something other than the need to be famous.” You went on and on, eventually realizing that no one had ever shown much interest in your hobby.
“I love Banksy”, Natasha noted. “The pieces are so much better when you don’t know the person behind them. Also, I just love the idea of them sneaking a painting into a museum just because they can.” She let out a chuckle. “We should do that with this painting”, she joked, her eyes glinting mischievously. Little did you know that she wasn’t joking.
“Yeah, right. I love Banksy too!” You exclaimed, Natasha's smile widening. “Do you like art, like in general?”
“Yes. I like to look at nice things”, she stated vaguely. “But what I like more is giving them a backstory. Sometimes I don’t even want to know what the artist has intended and I would much rather come up with one of my own.”
“Do you have a favorite era?” You moved on to defining her shape and creating the darkest parts of the shadows.
“Realism. I like the tragedy”, she stated, her voice intense, making you laugh. “I also like classics, like Girl With a Pearl Earring and the Starry Night, oh and The Garden of Earthly Delights.”
“I can’t believe I forgot about those. You’ve got good taste”, you mumbled, shaking your head lightly. “I didn’t even think of those. I love the idea of the garden but visually I don’t like it. The pearl earring is one of my favorites though.”
“Really?” She asked, sounding impressed.
“Yeah and then another one that I like is The Swing. You know the woman in a pink dress on a swing and the background is just green leaves?” Natasha nodded, careful not to disturb her posing. “Oh, and then this one realism piece called Burning the Brushwood. It has this starved little girl, god that sounds a little morbid, anyways, she’s just staring at you and it has like flames in the back and smoke and all.” You were rambling, so excited to share your interests with someone who knew enough to understand what you were talking about. You were almost gushing as you talked and talked, barely noticing how far your piece had gotten. “I remember seeing it in a museum as a kid and it really stuck with me. I love it." Your gaze moved back to Natasha’s face to see how she was doing, noticing her shiver lightly. You decided that it was time for you to move on to the more detailed part of the process, getting up and setting your palette down.
“Would you mind if I took a few Polaroids, the sun is about to move to the other side of the building?” You asked, once again careful not to cross any boundaries.
“Go ahead, take one for me too”, she said in all seriousness. You grinned as you dug out one of your bigger Polaroid cameras, snapping a couple of shots with different angles of her head and then finally the one meant for Natasha. You left the images to develop, gathering the white duvet off the floor and throwing it towards the head of the bed so that it surrounded her figure, not yet covering her. You sat next to her on the bed, your hands coming up to rub her cool skin.
“I hope you’re doing okay.”
“I’m wonderful. I get to lay in bed and talk to my favorite person. What could be better?” Your hand squeezed her hip involuntarily at her words. Favorite person? What had you done to deserve that? Natasha took in a shaky breath at your warm touch, fighting every cell in her being not to move.
“Favorite person, huh? I thought that was Clint”, you teased, watching her roll her eyes at you.
“No, it’s you", she mumbled, her tone turning a bit more shy than you would have expected from her. You offered her a coy smile, hands brushing over her arms in an attempt to warm her up before moving them back to pull the covers over her.
“I’ll start with your legs, then work my way up”, you said, molding the duvet over her in a way that left her bare from waist down. You made sure you wrapped her upper body securely into the duvet, tucking the edges under her. You brushed her cheek gently, leaning down slightly, halting in your movements the second you caught yourself, Natasha giving you a gentle frown. You had just almost kissed her, the action automatic, almost habit-like. You weren’t too close to her face but your sudden move was definitely noticeable. You sighed gently, moving back to your painting, trying to seem as nonchalant as ever.
”Do you have a piece that impressed you?” You asked, starting to apply the different shades of her skin tone on the wood.
“The first one that comes to my mind is A Fisher Girl by Ilya Repin. You know that one?” She asked, moving her head up to inspect you. Her pose moved slightly but you didn’t have the heart to tell her off for it when she was looking at you like that.
“I know the artist but not the painting”, you admitted, itching to go find a picture of it.
“It’s a painting with a little girl in it. Nothing special, really, just a girl dressed in rags on a flower field. It’s a closeup portrait”, she explained.
“And why do you like it?” Natasha paused for a second, blinking a couple of times as if looking for an answer, or trying to come up with a lie. You couldn’t really tell. She sighed, closed her eyes and finally opened them to look at you.
“Because when I was a kid I liked to think that we were friends. A replica of that painting was hung in Dreykov’s office. I spent a lot of time there against my will but the painting was there too. She doesn’t look too happy in it, just like little me. I thought we could make each other happy.”
You felt your throat squeeze as you listened to her. You knew what she had gone through, well knew remotely, but hearing her talk about it made you realize how cruel her past really was. You leaned forward on your stool, letting your hand caress her cheek gently. She glanced up at you, her eyes just a little more shiny than normal.
“I made up stories in my head. We had so much fun together”, she stated, her mind seeming far away. “Her name was Anzhelika, Anya for short but I used to call her by her full name because the name means angelic and that’s what she was to me, an angel. We were taught to defy all gods but I didn’t care. She was an angel, to me at least.” Her tone was firm, like she felt the need to convince you in some way. You wished with all your heart that you had a vivid image of the painting in your head. to get the full picture of what she was describing.
“She sounds wonderful”, you whispered, fearing you would somehow shatter the intimate moment by talking too loudly. She had never in your life spoken so openly, so vulnerably. You wished you could hug her, hold her, spoil her rotten because she if anyone deserved it.
“Yeah, well enough of that. What’s your least favorite style of art?” She asked, feigning her sudden perkiness. You removed your hand from her cheek, focusing back on your work.
“I don’t know, cubism or, oh, modern art, god do I hate it”, you scoffed, making Natasha chuckle lightly, a gentle smile spreading on your lips at the sound.
“What’s wrong with cubes?” She countered defensively.
“You like the cubes?” You asked in astonishment, your raised brows peeking from behind the board.
“They’re fun, are they not?” She whined, still defending the stupid cubes.
“No! I’ve never seen a single piece that was pleasing to the eye”, you argued, a wide grin on your face.
“Well then you haven’t been looking at the right ones”, she grumbled quietly. “Modern art I agree on for the most part. Some of it is just plain stupid, like that one empty canvas with no meaning behind it. If I wanted to look at a white wall I would just look at the walls in my room.”
“Exactly! It really rubs me the wrong way that someone with an incredible amount of talent can’t get their work hung up in a gallery but then someone with an empty canvas can do so at a high-end museum.”
“Like you, except you haven’t even tried”, Natasha stated, sounding slightly accusatory.
“Natasha, didn’t I already tell you?” You sighed, whining a little. “You haven’t even seen my work. For all you know I could be horrible at this.”
“But you’re not.”
“That’s a lot of faith you’re putting in me”, you smirked, looking down at her again.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. I know you won’t let me down”, she mumbled her head turning to the side to rest.
“I sure hope I won’t.”
A comfortable silence fell around you as you continued to paint. You had finished her legs for the most part, you would do touch-ups later. The next time you went to move the duvet to reveal her upper body you noticed she was sound asleep. You shifted the covers gently, draping them over her hips and thighs, revealing her chest and stomach. She was just so beautiful, so visually pleasing to your artistic eye. You watched her as she slept, her rogue curls partly covering her face. You caressed her chin and jaw gently before brushing your knuckles down her arm. Maybe it was better this way. She wasn’t there to distract you and time would fly by faster for her. You ended up working on the piece for over three hours until Natasha woke up. She was disoriented and her body must have been painfully sore by then. She rolled around, not even realizing what she was doing. You had just finished painting her figure, the background still left untouched for the most part. You needed to wait for the paint to dry so that you could finish it, which is why you didn’t mind your model stretching in the sheets as you cleaned off your brushes.
“Morning, princess”, you greeted teasingly, enjoying the way Natasha’s eyes widened momentarily as she remembered her predicament. She let out a quiet ‘oh’, freezing completely. “It’s fine. I’m finished anyway”, you assured her, setting down your things.
“Can I see?” She asked in excitement, rubbing her eyes with her fists as she sat up. You swore every position she was in was perfect for a figure study. You could spend weeks just drawing her in whatever positions you found her in.
“Nope.”
“What?” She shrieked, already kneeling on the bed to come see your work. She was unbelievably confident in her own skin, not shying away from your gaze in the slightest. You couldn’t help but to check her out, just a little once over. “I spent all this time posing and you’re not going to let me see?”
“It’s not finished”, you stated. “It’ll take me another day or two, or three.”
“Oh.” Was all she said but you had already anticipated her next move.
“Don’t even think about it”, you said, giving her a stern look as you walked closer to the bed. You grasped her wrists tightly, not allowing her to move. Your eyes flicked down her body, again. She was really testing your patience. You met her gaze only to see her smirking up at you.
“I promise I’ll show it to you when it’s ready”, you hummed, your hand caressing her jaw gently. “I’ll pinky promise”, you joked before planting a quick kiss on her lips. You had already turned around with the intention of showing her the Polaroid pictures when your actions caught up to you. You had just kissed her. Kissed her. On the mouth. Slowly, you turned around to look at Natasha, eyes wide as dinner plates. She looked at you, mirroring your expression, breath hitched in her throat.
“Sor-“ your apology was cut short by the redhead who yanked you close by the string of your flannel pants. She didn’t say anything, just stared up at you from her knelt down position on the bed. Her hands reached around your neck to pull you even closer. She glanced up at you with those huge jade eyes of hers before they fluttered shut. She leaned closer, her hands tugging you by your hair until her soft lips finally landed on yours. She absolutely melted into the kiss, your hands cupping her cheeks to keep her upright. You sighed into her mouth, feeling her hands around your waist, pulling you down on the bed as your lips moved together. You were dumbfounded to say the least, feeling like your limbs weren’t working properly as her lips sucked on yours. She sat down on the bed, guiding you to straddle her. Without even thinking you ran your hands down her chest, Natasha shuddering under the touch of your cold hands, making you pull back abruptly as you realized that you were downright groping her fully nude figure.
“Sorry I-“ you started to babble something, dropping your gaze down, realizing it wasn’t any better and lifting it back up to her face, feeling a little embarrassed. She saw how flustered you were as you stared at her awkwardly, trying to make sense of the situation. Natasha was smiling widely, her attempts at controlling it useless.
“Come on, baby, you know I don’t mind”, she mumbled, moving your hands back on her chest. You felt your heart thud in your chest at the endearment, heat pooling low in your abdomen as you leaned closer, intending to kiss her but she backed away until she was buried in the sheets with you on top. She gnawed on her lip lightly, a small, playful smile tugging at her lips. Her hands slid under your shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion, leaving your chest bare for her. She flipped you around, your head hitting the fluffy pillows as she crawled on top of you, thighs bracketing your waist, pressing herself down on you. You could feel her against your stomach and she knew that, grinding down lightly, her hands caressing your chest as she smirked at your flustered expression. You arched up into her touch, letting out a quiet grunt as her hands slid up to your neck and back down. You started to pull her closer, eager to plant your lips on her neck, mouth, anywhere you could reach.
“Are you trying to make me show you the painting?” You asked once she was resting on your chest, your fingernails scraping across her scalp at the back of her head. Natasha gave you a teasing smirk before lowering her lips to your chest.
“Maybe”, she mused, but you could tell she wasn’t serious. You felt her warm mouth suckle your skin, the touch of her full lips making your skin tingle. “Or then I just grew tired of your lingering gazes and thought I should do something about it.” That irresistible smirk was plastered on her face as she looked up at you through her lashes, green eyes a shade darker.
”To be fair I was painting you. You were my reference”, you countered, hands trailing down her spine.
“Then tell me why you did more looking than painting. Why’s it not ready yet, huh?” She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat as her finger drew patterns over your collar bones. You blushed, looking away at getting caught. The painting being ready had nothing to do with the speed you were painting it with but you could’ve been quicker too. You were just enjoying the view and the atmosphere or whatever.
“I just wanted it to be accurate”, you groaned, rolling your eyes as Natasha crawled closer to you, face hovering above yours.
“I wish I had an excuse as good as yours to stare at you like that.” Her nose brushed against yours before she leaned down to kiss you. Her lips pressed down on your own, tongue already grazing over your lower lip, your mouth opening wider for her, deepening the kiss. You let out a quiet moan as her hands cradled your head softly, her hips grinding down against your stomach. Her back arched, pressing her chest closer to yours as you slid your tongue against hers, trying to dominate her just because you knew she wouldn’t like it. The battle was short lived when her teeth sank into your lower lip, making you release a quiet squeak. She smirked against you, her tongue pushing back into your mouth, this time easily dominating you.
“Mmh, you don’t need an excuse”, you mumbled when she kissed your cheek and down your jaw. “I won’t judge”, you smirked, already able to imagine glancing at her from across the room only to see her eyes already glued on you. She blew a raspberry into your neck making you giggle as you squirmed under her, Natasha adjusting herself on top. You inhaled sharply when you felt a knee press down between your legs, separating them even farther apart, your eyes landing on Natasha’s as her smirk widened at your reaction. She moved her leg a little, your breath hitching as she put more pressure on you.
“You’re stunning”, she whispered, lowering herself down, her movements that of a lithe cat. She grinned again, enjoying the way you blushed at her comment, her hands landing on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh before replacing one of her hands with her mouth. She suckled you lightly, eliciting a weak groan from you. Her mouth was so warm against you, the touch of her lips making your head spin.
“Natasha”, you sighed.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to say your name”, you admitted sheepishly, allowing her to peck your lips. She chuckled at your antics, smiling so wide it hurt before going back down to your chest.
When she eventually pulled away and straddled your stomach again you made sure to slow down because you yourself wanted to touch her, feel her body before things got too intense. Natasha sat up a little, your hands coming up to her hips where they gripped her soft curves. You ran your hands up and down her thighs, mesmerized by the sight in front of you, your delicate fingers brushing over the roundness of her belly, tickling her sides gently before cupping her full breasts. They were incredibly soft, round and smooth. She hummed quietly, rolling her hips into your abdomen as you pinched her nipples, watching goosebumps erupt across her pale skin. You glanced up at her, her eyes closed, those rosy, kiss-swollen lips parted. You smirked lightly, putting more effort into the way you were touching her. You pulled her down so you could use your mouth as well, your tongue licking over silky skin. She let out a tiny whimper at that, feeling the way you smiled against her skin. Her hand collided with your upper arm in a teasing slap for being so smug but you just kept going. You sucked on her harshly, hearing her hiss above you when you sank your teeth down on the warm skin. She moved her leg back between your own, pressing down until you gasped, forcing you to release your suction on her. She smirked cockily at regaining control, her hands starting to tug down your pants and underwear. You actually could not believe it was really happening, she was really undressing you, revealing your thighs and before you knew it, she had flung the clothes behind her, rubbing her hands over the expanse of your smooth skin as she brought your other leg over her own, scooching higher on your other thigh.
Your eyes were locked on her darkened ones as you both gasped at the skin-on-skin contact. You rolled your hips against hers, watching her eyes flutter shut as she hunched over you at the feeling, her arms supporting her as they gripped your shoulders. Natasha moved next, grinding down a little harder than you had, moaning quietly into your ear as both of you picked up the speed. You squeezed her hips roughly, hearing her moan when you let out a little whine. Your breath got caught in your throat when she readjusted the angle of her hips, allowing you to move better, intensifying the stimulation.
“Just like that, darling”, she praised, her hand moving from your shoulder to brush over your cheek. Her words made your stomach lurch, cheeks heating even more. You could feel nothing but her, your entire body, every cell, focused on her. You breathed her in, her scent, her perfume, your body shuddering with pleasure as she went rigid atop you. She held her breath just to make the high better, your hands gripping her curves harshly as heat rushed through your body. After both of you had come down from that haze of pleasure she moved your leg once again, allowing her to slump onto your chest.
Natasha kissed down your breasts, immediately wanting more, her lips sucking a harsh mark to the underside of your left breast, smiling widely when you let out a slight hiss at her roughness. You arched up for her, feeling her hands slide between you and the mattress, caressing your sides. She licked over the bare skin, her tongue sliding to your stomach, nails digging into your ribs as she moved lower. She kneaded your round hips, glancing up at your frown of pleasure as you focused on her touch. She dipped down to press kisses to your thighs, sucking another mark there just so you would have something to remember her by. You felt her teeth scrape over the tender skin on the inside of your thigh as she moved higher to where you wanted her the most. You spread your legs as wide as they would go, a flush of pride swelling in your chest when Natasha praised you, her face forming that familiar smirk. You let out a moan mixed between a sigh and a whimper when she finally moved her mouth higher. You were horrified by the noise but didn’t have time to focus on it, your hips rolling against her mouth, wanting to intensify the friction as you chased that very specific feeling in your gut. You groaned lightly when she replaced her tongue with her hand, moving up to your face to press her lips to your own. You welcomed her greedily, your hands clasping behind her neck as you rose up a little from the bed to get closer to her. You groaned into her mouth, your tongue stroking her own, gliding over the roof of her mouth and teeth. You could taste yourself on her tongue, moaning softly as she sped up her fingers.
“Does that feel good, baby?” She mumbled in your ear, teeth grazing over your earlobe before she nibbled lightly on it. You nodded your head, letting out a sound of approval.
“Don’t stop”, you whispered even though she was not indicating that she was going to. You clung to her even tighter, needing to be close as the pressure in your lower abdomen built up. You were almost hugging her, your nails digging into her back and shoulders. Natasha chuckled smugly. Oh, how you hated and loved that stupid, slightly condescending tone she used on you.
“I want you to beg for it”, she whispered in your ear, purposely slowing down into an agonizingly slow pace. At that point you were so far gone that you didn’t have a single thought left in your head as you kept rolling your hips to try to make her go faster. “Beg.” Your breathing was ragged next to her ear as you still tried to ignore her request, not willing to go easy on her. She pulled her hand away completely, leaving you empty.
“Please!” You yelped hastily, Natasha’s eyes widening as she pulled back a little to see your face. She smirked at your desperation, leaning down so that her lips were hovering over yours.
“Mmh, say it again”, she murmured, the rumble of her voice low.
“Please, please Natasha, plea-“ Her lips slotted over yours in a hungry, searing kiss, her hand coming back with equal force, making you moan into her mouth, the sound almost guttural. You were nearly crying from everything you were feeling, focusing back on kissing Natasha. Your hands sank into her red locks, tugging hard enough to make her grunt as your tongues pushed against each other. You rolled your hips one more time before going rigid. Your eyes screwed as you frowned at the dizzying feeling, your other hand still in Natasha’s hair as she worked you through it, warmth flooding your body at the release you experienced.
Chest heaving with your exhausted breaths, Natasha pressed a couple kisses to your breasts and stomach before coming back up to your face. She looked down at your closed eyes, pecking your lips lightly as if asking you to open them. When you finally did, you were met with Natasha’s bright ones. She seemed so excited, almost like she was proud of her work. Not in a cocky way but rather in a giddy way. She gave you a big goofy grin.
“How was that?” She asked, tickling your neck with her slim fingers. You immediately trapped her fingers between your shoulder and jaw, already squirming at her feather light touch. You giggled a little, tugging her hand away from you.
“Hm, mediocre”, you sassed, watching her frown in disapproval.
“Mediocre? I’ll show you mediocre”, she grumbled defensively as she continued her tickling. You laughed loudly, wheezing when she wouldn’t stop.
“Fine! Fine. If it makes you feel any better I’ve never begged before”, you smirked, watching her brows shoot up into her hairline.
“Well it was about damn time for someone to put you in your place”, she joked, kissing her way up your jaw. She laughed along with you as she settled down on your chest. She sighed contentedly, her face buried in your breasts, wavy locks covering the side of her face completely. You chuckled as she nuzzled closer, your hand sinking into her hair to rub her scalp gently, your free hand coming up to uncover her face just so you could look at her. Her cheeks were tinted pink and she seemed to shy away a little at the attention you were giving her. You stroked her hair again lovingly, hearing her sigh at the action. You had a feeling that the painting session wouldn’t be a one time thing. And when a week later your painting appeared on the wall of the Metropolitan museum of art neither of you said anything, just nodded along as your friends and family, the world talked about the captivating piece, trying to figure out what it meant and how it had gotten there.