We'll Always Have This

Chapter 4

Subsiding ecstasy rippled through Natasha; her chest fluttered, her limbs tingled, and her breath hadn't returned to normal when James startled her by abruptly withdrawing and unexpectedly moving away. Everything was incoherent, her mind jumbled, her body electric; she wasn't sure she could muster the ability to do anything, but he'd managed to extract himself and quickly. Doubt, a feeling Natasha was unaccustomed to, raised its ugly head in her mind. He'd enjoyed it, hadn't he, as much as she had? Natasha couldn't recall the last time she had or to such an extent. Many things about the encounter had been both gratifying and unexpected. He'd been sweet, unsure, but attentive. His focus almost entirely on her, his expressions and escaping sounds, gasps and moans at the physical and pleasurable sensations had been a little surprising, but she attributed that to his forced abstinence during his years on and off the ice. His stamina had been a very pleasant surprise; they had lasted far longer than she'd expected before their mutual fruition, especially given their lack of practice. She assumed that was a result of the serum. No, he had revelled in it as much as she had; whatever this was, it was something else.

Natasha managed to summon the strength to sit up; she turned and retrieved her discarded underwear and his shirt from the floor, concerned at his change in behaviour; was it regret or perhaps guilt? She pulled the clothing hastily on, and her wounded back roared in complaint regarding her exertions, reminding her of her injuries. She turned to him, and his expression was strange; he was making a peculiar motion with his mouth and neck like he was trying to swallow, his arms tense and braced at his side.

"James?"

He looked at her, and the expression intensified as he opened his mouth like a fish out of water, attempting to take air and failing. Finally, he shook his head, and the attempted gasps began to make a sound.

"Oh god," Natasha whispered, scrambling over the rumpled sheets and off the mattress to him.

Through his attempts to breathe, he tried to talk with what little air was left in his chest, "..It me!"

"What?" she couldn't understand him; her mind still felt foggy, and she couldn't think what he meant or what she could do.

He looked at her pleadingly, took her hand, curled it into a fist and aimed it at his face.

"H..it me!"

She comprehended his meaning and frowned at the request, but she had no better suggestion. Reluctantly, she punched him in the face; he barely flinched, only his hair moved merely covering his eyes. It had been a half-hearted punch at best, and his tight-lipped glare through his hair before he shook it off showed he knew it, too.

"Sorry," she replied apologetically, screwing up her face. She was preparing not to hold back on her next punch, wondering if it would make any difference, when a better idea came to her, "Hold on."

His sarcastic eyes were confirmation enough as he covered his nakedness with the sheet, and she leapt from the floor and began searching for her jacket. Inside one of the pockets, she found what she was looking for - a tiny metal disk. Turning back to where he sat on the stiff floor, Bucky's face was red; he might be turning purple; this had better work.

"This is gonna hurt," she said, opening her hand to show him the taser disk.

He looked at it and squeezed his eyes closed with a sneer before nodding; he remembered the last time she'd used this on him.

She activated it as she placed it on his titanium arm. Immediately, James jolted and shook as the electricity surged through him. Before the device had rendered his metal arm momentarily useless, and he'd removed it immediately, this time, he allowed the volts to flow through him. His teeth gritted, and a guttural roar rose in his throat until he finally gasped, heaving in great swathes of air. He ripped the gadget from his arm, throwing it across the room. For a moment, the only sound was him taking on great, deep gulps of satiating oxygen until his breath returned to its natural rhythm.