Possession

Lover's Tiff

You pushed against Natasha in the dark corner of the club, the rumble of the hundreds of occupants drowning as you melted between Natasha's lips. Occasionally, you'd come round - a moment of remembrance as to why you were there in the first place. Yet every straying thought was ultimately clouded as the mobster's hands studied your body, her fingertips running the length of you as yours grew tighter on her waist. She lay her lips against yours, the opposing tongues moving against one another - the occasional whimper escaping between kisses. This was wrong, yet you couldn't help yourself. You'd get the drive off her. You would. Just not right now.

She took your hand in her own, sliding off your lap as she pulled the hem of her dress to sit at an acceptable height. She lifted her belongings from the table, before tilting up to your neck and speaking into your ear.
"Keep your head low. Don't let anyone see you."
She guided you from the booth, walking before you as you kept a fixed look on the floor, avoiding eye contact with the flock of Natasha's strangers. She led you from the floor out into an off-room, that upon closing the door allowed no noise to leak through.

Suddenly, you felt an overwhelming dread drown your emotion and as you turned, you stopped a blade in its tracks by swerving - catching Natasha's wrist in your hand. You spared no time, cracking a low punch on her jaw as she was forced back, startled by your instantaneous instinct. Her intoxication betrayed her - you were more distinguishably alert, balanced. Two crucial aspects of fighting that Natasha was lacking at this moment. Every swing she pursued was either blocked or missed as you overtook fatal edge against her. It doesn't take long before she is beneath you, crouched with her knees rough against the floor - a bloody nose and defeat swathing her appearance. She stares up at you, her eyes dark and devoured by a bloodthirsty desire to succeed. You sensed an unusual pit grow in your stomach, perhaps you felt betrayed by her - undeniably hurt by the immediate manner in which she switched from kissing you to killing you.

You tore fabric from the edge of your shirt with your free hand, tying it round Natasha's open mouth - securing the hold at the back of her head. You threw her down before lifting her phone and pulling a chip from your pocket, inserting it into the mobile. Immediately, you had gained access. You got to work cancelling the contents of your drive, now no longer needing to retrieve it. You delete all memory stored of your father's mob and send yourself the location of all other important files from Natasha's. You catch her shuffling beneath you and press your foot to her shoulder before corrupting all contact Natasha had with the government - finally, throwing her phone back to her side.

Perhaps you had outdone yourself here. You take a final glance at Natasha before keying a lock to the back-alley exit. She was laid, her hands stuck behind her back as she panted, the cloth at her mouth dirtied with her bloody spit and the stream from her nose. Her eyes were sunken, tearful and you couldn't help but feel guilt at the state you'd left her in. You sighed, making your way over to her.

You bent to her height, taking her lightly in your arms as she, predictably, lifted the handgun - pressing the barrel into the skin between your eyes. Ignoring the weapon, you gently untied the fabric from her mouth, tossing it aside before bunching the edge of your shirt into your palm and wiping her face clean. She pressed the end of the barrel further against you, accentuating its presence of your forehead before loading the gun.
"Do it if you like, Nat. I don't mind."
You avoided eye contact with her, desperate to conceal the fact that you really didn't mind.
You brush her hair from her face with your fingertips, positioning her so that you'd support her back upon sitting. Slowly, she removes the weapon from your forehead, placing it down and sliding it to the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry."
She speaks up at you as she takes your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.
"No, I'm sorry Natasha. You're drunk, I'll get Bucky or someone."
She takes hold of you as you go to stand, pulling you back to her position.
"You can't. They'll kill you."
You huff before removing yourself once more to attract their attention. As you go to re-enter the club Natasha pleads for you to just leave.
"Y/N, please. I'll message Steve."
Reluctantly, you cave and lay her against the wall, wiping the blood of her nose for a final time, taking her face in your hand.

You stand to leave and she watches you go, tracing your steps across the room as the back exit swings open. She calls for you as you step into the street.
"When will I see you again ?"
You laugh a little before turning back to face her, leaning against the doorframe. You felt like a teenager confronting their crush, your stomach turning at the sight of her - at the sound of her wanting your company.
"Well, the next time you want to kill me, I guess."

With that, you turn and close the door before messaging a brief text of events to your father and hopping on your motorcycle, ready to head home.