Possession

Solo

You slowed the speed of the motorcycle to a soft rumble as you cautiously paced the street, parking your bike in an alley down the road from the club. You clicked on the auto-lock, composing yourself as the vehicle latched itself to the metal rack on it's side. The evening was cold, accentuated by the late hour - your breath visible in the air before you. Warming your hands with soft panting, you took your time making your way over to the club. You wouldn't admit it, but perhaps you were nervous. You rarely attempted missions solo, and if you did - you were given an overly detailed plan of action. Now, you were alone, wandering into the club of an enemy, without even a notion of what you were going to do.

"Well. This is great."
You were speaking to yourself - an attempt to ease your apprehension. Upon approaching the entrance, you pulled a replica club pass from your jean pocket, flashing it to the bouncer before pulling your hair from its tie and unbuttoning the V of your shirt. He allowed you past without a word, winking as you overtook him. As he turned, you let out a shudder in repulse at his sly demeanour.
"Fucking, men."

You descended the stairs, which were a sleek black paired nicely with the deep crimson colour of the walls surrounding. The floors were lit with deep red lights, and a flashing dance floor soon came into vision as you passed numerous people inhaling miscellaneous powders and fucking on the stairwell. You were beginning to understand why this place was so popular. Immediately you were scouting your surroundings for Natasha, drawing your phone to your face occasionally to check her location - every time, her little red triangle sat right atop you. As you moved across the floor, you felt hundreds of hands scale your body, drunken people throwing themselves at you as you paced the club. You wound up at the bar, slouching on a stool in order to gain some personal space. The bartender swiftly offered you a drink, to which you reluctantly denied, forcing yourself to remember the true reasoning behind your presence.

You refused everyone's attempts to converse with you, every cocktail the bartender threw your way, every hand attempting to drag you to the floor - all in the hopes of finding Natasha. You moved your hair out of your face, scanning the room with a sense of finality concluding that your plan had been ill prepared and bound to crumble.

Upon looking past the crowd before you, a familiar set of eyes caught yours. She was sat, cross legged in a booth, sipping a fitting deep cherry drink from the edge of her glass, the tips of her fingers toying with a handgun, rested on the table. She was staring right at you, her eyes fixed on yours, the corners of her mouth upturned as you melted beneath her gaze. Only now, for the first time, did you truly fear for your life. Here you were, in the territory of an adversary, solitary, outnumbered - and the very person you seek, had promised to kill you upon this interaction. She lifted the weapon into her grasp, her finger swathing itself round the trigger. Your muscles tensed from head to toe as she swung it, only to usher away the security that surrounded her. She returned the gun to its original position, her eyes never leaving you, before lifting her finger and signalling that you join her. You stood from your seat, undeniably a little flushed by her consistent observance of you. Passing the same hands that roamed your physicality's previously, you were stopped just feet away from the table, Natasha sat idly, awaiting your company. A set of hands had found its way round your waist, holding you there as the beholder made their way round - a young woman, blue eyes and dark hair with full, red lips just inches from your face. You turned to face Natasha, who had already stood from her seat and stepped down onto the floor. She pushed the barrel of the gun to the temple of the girl's head, whom removed her hands from you just as fast as they'd welcomed them self. You stepped back as Natasha leant in to speak in the stranger's ear, the barrel glued to its position on her forehead. Her eyes were closed, her knuckles white with nerve as Natasha pulled back from her, laughing wickedly to herself before removing the weapon and pushing the girl into the crowd behind.

She resumed her position in the booth as you followed, taking a seat adjacent her. For a moment she said nothing, simply offering you a cigarette, to which you accepted, then giving you a light and regarding you upon inhaling.
"I said I'd kill you next time we met. Did you think I was joking ?"
You shook your head, noticing that the roles had ironically reversed. Your stern composure had drawn out a sarcasm in Natasha, displayed to you for the first time.
"You have something I need."
She giggled a little, sipping more alcohol before continuing.
"Do I ? Why'd it take you the best part of a day to realise it was missing then ?"
You tolerance was wearing thin, the flash and noise of the club was eroding your patience and Natasha's mocking had only worsened your forbearance.
You ran your hands along the length of your leg, feeling for the knife strapped to your calf. Your fingertips had barely reached the concealed edge of the blade before Natasha had a sharp edge pressed to the base neck, her hand on your jaw concealing the weapon to the onlooking party-goers.
"I wouldn't try it sweetheart. You and I both know you're outnumbered. You're lucky I haven't put a bullet through your brain yet."
She was just a move away from your face, remaining there as she continued to press the blade further into your skin, nicking the edge of your collarbone.
"You have an odd perversion with making me bleed, Natasha."
You spoke as she took her bottom lip between her teeth, watching as a line of crimson stained your chest - it's source growing as Natasha left a small cut on your collarbone before removing the knife.
"I was expecting you here, in all honesty."
You frowned, watching as she shuffled back to her place before you, secreting the weapon in its original hide.
"You think I'm an idiot, Y/N ? I've received that email hundreds of times."
You sat back, resting your shoulders as you replied.
"Then why click it ?"
"Because I knew it was you."
You turned from her, your eyes falling to the contents of the table as you struggled to maintain her burning eye contact. As you lifted your head, your anxiety spiked as a group of dangerously familiar faces brought themselves into the flashing lights of the floor.

Steve and Bucky had girls on each arm as they made their way over to Natasha's booth, Clint following with a drink in hand. You fumbled with your holster, your hands having trouble grasping the gun. Just as you had a hold of your weapon, Natasha had placed her hand round yours before climbing onto your lap - each leg round your waist. Her dress had rolled up due to her movement, falling entirely too short upon her thighs, completely exposing the thin, mesh underwear she was sporting beneath.
"What the fuck are you doing ?"
You had come round from your moment of stricken awe, falling into obscene realisation as Natasha removed your hand from the weapon.
"Trust me, Y/N. They will not leave us alone if I'm not occupied."
You pushed at her hips in an attempt to remove her, as she leant against you, forcing them further into your lap - which drew an involuntary groan from past your lips.
"They will kill you if they see you're here. Wether I want them to or not."
"What do you care ? I'd be one less Stark to deal with."
Natasha turned as the boys drew consequently near the booth.

As she turned back, she took your face in her hands, pressing her lips to yours. You fought against her for a moment before your hands found rest on her waist, guiding her against you. She parted her lips, giving way for your tongue in her mouth. She groaned against you, pressing further as your fingertips ran the length of her back, taking stance on her ribs as she deepened the kiss, taking your palm in her hand and forcing you against her tits.

Faintly, you could hear Clint diverting the boys from the table, ultimately leaving yourself and Natasha as she claimed they would. However, Natasha hadn't removed herself from you and unfortunately, you also felt no urge to remove her. Your mind wandered a little, the thought of Wanda dancing between thoughts. A twinge of guilt stung your facade as you distanced your mouth from Natasha's. She leant back, giggling a little - as she did so, running her hands from your jaw, stopping at your chest.

"I thought you were gonna kill me."
She moved forward as you spoke, your eyes falling to her dampened lips.
"There's no harm in a little fun first, Stark."