Climbing into his lap had been a secondary thought. It wasn't her first intention at all. Nat had started with the thought of merely kissing him, but it had become so much more so easily. He'd lit a passion in her that came from a place that had sat dormant for longer than she could remember. It made her heart pound as she slid her fingers down along his back.
There was strength there, the curve of muscle and the way it dipped when he moved. Natasha instinctively rolled against him, and sighed out softly. Breaking the kiss to breathe, she touched her lips to the corners of his mouth, and then along his chin, nudging it upward so she could lick and suck over his neck.
It does not take much nudging from her for him to lift his chin, to close his eyes and let himself focus on breathing and not reacting too much as she kisses down his neck. He doesn't know what to do with himself in the moment. Other than to hold on and let the older, more experienced woman guide him.
Letting her fingers stray to the hemline of his shirt, she slips them under it and begins to trace out the patterns of his muscles. He's toned and firm under her touch. Her thumbs slide along his hips and then upward. Pulling back a little, she glances at him and bites her lip. "I want to take off your shirt. Is that okay, or is this too much?" She asks, carefully trying to gauge his reaction to everything that is happening between them right now. She'd never want to take advantage of what they have between them now. He's precious to her, and she wouldn't want to harm that in any way, but she does crave him-- and while she knows that it's dangerous to the large walls she's erected around her to keep her safe, she can't help herself.
Well now that is a question. The good news is that Pietro absolutely knows how to answer that. Why waste time with her taking off his shirt? He peels it off in a flash of speed and flings it off to some corner to be forgotten.
"Is that acceptable? I hope you were not too eager to do it yourself. Seemed more efficient. May I ask the same of you?"
Would she be self conscious? He wonders. She might be scarred, and it seemed likely. But he wants to have his hands on her skin as well.
In the space of one good blink, his shirt is gone. There's a small giggle that erupts. "That's more than acceptable, efficient too." Natasha's hands and fingers smooth upward from his stomach to his pectorals, fanning upward to his shoulders and then back down again. Her thumbs circle around his nipples, one and then the other. "mmmn."
She takes her time in answering, smile wide and a little devilish. "Yes, you may do the same. You can also take my bra as well. I am yours tonight." She finishes, in case he had any doubt where this was going. There were scars on her body, but she had no shame about them. They were the tales of her trade, and lessons learned. She had knife marks here and there, one nasty one that swiped along her shoulder and another along her kidney. Then there was a single bullet wound that was distinctly shown on her side-- it had obviously gone straight through.
Efficient for her. Still the normal amount of effort for him. Well, a bit more work because extra energy to go fast, but he's okay with that. Which is something that needs not to be pointed out. Better to just let himself shiver to enjoy the pleasure of her touch.
"And if I think your bra is pretty to leave on for a bit?" he teases. And the thing is, he does not take her shirt off nearly so fast. No, he runs his hands under the cloth and slowly pushes it up, letting his hands explore her skin. She does not have quite the same friction resistance his body does. He could hurt her easily by moving his hands too fast. Better to be careful. And his hands definitely rove over scars. Not that he sees any point to avoiding them or lingering. They are as much part of her as anything else, and so taken in stride.
The further up his hands traveled, he'd discover that while the lingerie she wore this evening weren't her most luxurious by far, they were hardly ugly. Natasha had a fondness for such things and found herself splurging on them. They were something she could buy solely for herself now that she had the funds. It was something hidden that no one knew about but her, and obviously now Pietro.
"You can leave anything on you want to. As long as you don't mind me undressing you. It would be difficult to feel all of you against me with so many clothes still on." She pressed the words against his collarbone, seconds before her lips sealed themselves against it in several spots, sitting back up as he moved to pull her shirt over her head. His fingers were softer than she figured they might be, and she enjoyed the way they lingered over her scars. Most men were afraid of them, but he didn't hesitate. It turned her on in a way she didn't realize it would.
"By all means, you are quite welcome to undress me," he promises her even as his fingers run over the material of her bra. It felt nice under his fingers, and he was certain that when he saw it it would be beautiful on her.
And then there her shirt went, leaving him with the truly wonderful sight. Dark patterns over beautiful skin, the way her scars just accented her beautiful skin and the strength of her body and will, it's all wonderful.
"You are like art. Beautiful and strong. And with little flaws," he says as his thumb brushes over one of the scars. "They say that only gods can make things that are perfect, that other things must have flaws to have true beauty. That is what you are."
Right this moment, Natasha was keen on enjoying what he was doing and on the ability she had to touch his chest, and to taste him. There was a lot to be said for tasting another person. It was a level of intimacy that Nat never took with other people. Yet here she was, deeply yearning to lick, suck and even draw her teeth across Pietro's skin. It was a little difficult to do from this angle in his lap, but she figured they could move soon.
Feeling his hands move reverently over her body made her feel appreciated and even sexy in a way she hadn't in a long time. Most men grabbed and took, they didn't care about the beauty-- they didn't even bother to take off her shirt half the time, and she liked it that way. After this connection, Nat knew she wouldn't be doing that sort of work any more. This was who she wanted to give her body to, someone who could appreciate it and enjoy her completely.
Leaning in, she shook her head. "I've never known anyone that thought like you. You flatter me and make me feel special, and yet here you are with pale beautiful skin, and these muscles that you never show. Your body is its own artwork. I want to taste you. All of you, maybe we should move this to the bedroom, so I can better reach your skin."
"You have not known men who properly appreciate the people around them I suppose," he suggests. Because, of course he had grown up knowing to respect and appreciate those of the feminine persuasion. Why should there not be appreciation?
"I think the picture you paint is flattering more than I deserve. But I would not mind a more comfortable spot with more space. You will guide me?"
"Something like that." It's a whole lot of that, and she hasn't exactly cultivated any relationships where she's allowed herself to be in a position where a man has been allowed to enjoy her body as slowly or relish her in such detail as she's given Pietro. Although, she highly doubts that anyone would have compared her scars and imperfections to beauty in the way he did.
It won't be a thing that she forgets any time soon. "I like my painting." She whispers against his lips, and then with a small groan slides off his lap. With clothes left behind she takes him by the hand and leads him back to her bedroom and her large kingsized bed. Turning, she leans against it and brings him in close so that she can begin to undo the buttons on his pants, slowly undoing the zipper as well. At another time, she might have rushed things-- but this is more, and she doesn't feel the need to rush through any of it.
He could appreciate being compared to art actually. He likes the idea. And likes being pulled along behind her. Mostly, though, he likes the slow way she treats this when they get to the bed. The care and pace she uses. People might assume he would want to go fast. But there are uses to speed, and this is not one of them.
"I guess we are our own manner of artists." She leans in and begins to kiss his bare torso, lipstick marks left fading as it wears from her mouth across his body.
His pants pull down from his legs, as does whatever he wears beneath. Natasha settles on her knees before him and slides her hands up and down his thighs, caressing the power within them. They are used to move him with a quickness very few can fathom. She only has hints because she's been around powered people.
Her mouth kisses and licks along them, moving upward to the junction of his legs. She pauses to bite and suck up a small mark in the fleshy part of his thigh, leaving a testimony of their actions here. The whole while, her thumb rubs along his sac and backwards, stroking his perineum.
sorry for all of the delay. i'm starting to feel better
"Yeah," he agrees as her lips explore his skin. Kisses pressed against his skin, the subtle paint that would be worn off in the next shower. But brushed against his skin with feeling. How could he not think it was artistic?
But god, when her hands are on his legs he trembles. Anticipation and desire are a good way to work his system up even if he wished it wouldn't. Staying in the moment is important, because it would be bad if he got so fast that time fell away and he was accidentally edging himself with her touch.
"Do not worry about marks. I do not mind them."
That's good. We all have stuff that takes us away for a while. Its never a problem. <3
There's a small curl at her lips when he says he doesn't mind the marks. That is good, because she'd left the ones on his thighs on purpose. They were for her to see, and for him to recall her touches by. Unfamiliar with the way he healed-- they might stay, or they might not, but it was good enough for now. They'd be a reminder pressed into the skin and memorized for time to come.
Running her fingers forward, she eventually strokes them up along his cock. It has her gazing at it with a slow lick across her lips. She is hungry for the taste of him, and while she wants to take her time-- there's also a greater part of her that wants to take him and swallow him down in one long motion.
"You're so hard. I can't wait to taste you." Running her finger over the tip of his cock head, Nat pulls back a long string of cum and drags it to her lips. Sucking it off her thumb, she hums over it. "Fuck. Just as I thought." Leaning in she licks around his base and then up the singular vein along the back of his cock, circling along under his tip, playing with him-- moaning the entire time.
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There was strength there, the curve of muscle and the way it dipped when he moved. Natasha instinctively rolled against him, and sighed out softly. Breaking the kiss to breathe, she touched her lips to the corners of his mouth, and then along his chin, nudging it upward so she could lick and suck over his neck.
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"Is that acceptable? I hope you were not too eager to do it yourself. Seemed more efficient. May I ask the same of you?"
Would she be self conscious? He wonders. She might be scarred, and it seemed likely. But he wants to have his hands on her skin as well.
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She takes her time in answering, smile wide and a little devilish. "Yes, you may do the same. You can also take my bra as well. I am yours tonight." She finishes, in case he had any doubt where this was going. There were scars on her body, but she had no shame about them. They were the tales of her trade, and lessons learned. She had knife marks here and there, one nasty one that swiped along her shoulder and another along her kidney. Then there was a single bullet wound that was distinctly shown on her side-- it had obviously gone straight through.
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"And if I think your bra is pretty to leave on for a bit?" he teases. And the thing is, he does not take her shirt off nearly so fast. No, he runs his hands under the cloth and slowly pushes it up, letting his hands explore her skin. She does not have quite the same friction resistance his body does. He could hurt her easily by moving his hands too fast. Better to be careful. And his hands definitely rove over scars. Not that he sees any point to avoiding them or lingering. They are as much part of her as anything else, and so taken in stride.
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"You can leave anything on you want to. As long as you don't mind me undressing you. It would be difficult to feel all of you against me with so many clothes still on." She pressed the words against his collarbone, seconds before her lips sealed themselves against it in several spots, sitting back up as he moved to pull her shirt over her head. His fingers were softer than she figured they might be, and she enjoyed the way they lingered over her scars. Most men were afraid of them, but he didn't hesitate. It turned her on in a way she didn't realize it would.
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And then there her shirt went, leaving him with the truly wonderful sight. Dark patterns over beautiful skin, the way her scars just accented her beautiful skin and the strength of her body and will, it's all wonderful.
"You are like art. Beautiful and strong. And with little flaws," he says as his thumb brushes over one of the scars. "They say that only gods can make things that are perfect, that other things must have flaws to have true beauty. That is what you are."
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Feeling his hands move reverently over her body made her feel appreciated and even sexy in a way she hadn't in a long time. Most men grabbed and took, they didn't care about the beauty-- they didn't even bother to take off her shirt half the time, and she liked it that way. After this connection, Nat knew she wouldn't be doing that sort of work any more. This was who she wanted to give her body to, someone who could appreciate it and enjoy her completely.
Leaning in, she shook her head. "I've never known anyone that thought like you. You flatter me and make me feel special, and yet here you are with pale beautiful skin, and these muscles that you never show. Your body is its own artwork. I want to taste you. All of you, maybe we should move this to the bedroom, so I can better reach your skin."
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"I think the picture you paint is flattering more than I deserve. But I would not mind a more comfortable spot with more space. You will guide me?"
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It won't be a thing that she forgets any time soon. "I like my painting." She whispers against his lips, and then with a small groan slides off his lap. With clothes left behind she takes him by the hand and leads him back to her bedroom and her large kingsized bed. Turning, she leans against it and brings him in close so that she can begin to undo the buttons on his pants, slowly undoing the zipper as well. At another time, she might have rushed things-- but this is more, and she doesn't feel the need to rush through any of it.
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This is a time for care and thoroughness.
"Artists can appreciate art I suppose."
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His pants pull down from his legs, as does whatever he wears beneath. Natasha settles on her knees before him and slides her hands up and down his thighs, caressing the power within them. They are used to move him with a quickness very few can fathom. She only has hints because she's been around powered people.
Her mouth kisses and licks along them, moving upward to the junction of his legs. She pauses to bite and suck up a small mark in the fleshy part of his thigh, leaving a testimony of their actions here. The whole while, her thumb rubs along his sac and backwards, stroking his perineum.
sorry for all of the delay. i'm starting to feel better
But god, when her hands are on his legs he trembles. Anticipation and desire are a good way to work his system up even if he wished it wouldn't. Staying in the moment is important, because it would be bad if he got so fast that time fell away and he was accidentally edging himself with her touch.
"Do not worry about marks. I do not mind them."
That's good. We all have stuff that takes us away for a while. Its never a problem. <3
Running her fingers forward, she eventually strokes them up along his cock. It has her gazing at it with a slow lick across her lips. She is hungry for the taste of him, and while she wants to take her time-- there's also a greater part of her that wants to take him and swallow him down in one long motion.
"You're so hard. I can't wait to taste you." Running her finger over the tip of his cock head, Nat pulls back a long string of cum and drags it to her lips. Sucking it off her thumb, she hums over it. "Fuck. Just as I thought." Leaning in she licks around his base and then up the singular vein along the back of his cock, circling along under his tip, playing with him-- moaning the entire time.