❝ Sex is sex. There’s always a bit personal. You’ve got two people putting pieces of each other into body parts. I’m okay with that kind of personal. ❞ He was gruff and she felt a smirk tugging at her lips and leaned into the counter as he moved closer. But there’s no cowering, feeling the tightness in his pants against her. He dwarfed her in height but Natasha was far from backing down, instead dragging her fingers from a spot on his chest down to the waistband of his pajamas and giving the elastic a little flick. ❝ Easy, tiger. ❞
She used the moment of shifting to prop her hands onto the counter and pull herself up, legs draping around his hips lazily to tug him in and eager fingers slipping into his hair while she hovered her lips over his, ❝ If you just want me to look at you, the sex is gonna be pretty boring. I was hoping for a lot more touch to be involved. ❞ Natasha crushed her mouth against his then, dragging fingertips over his scalp and tightening her legs so that he would grind against her.
‴Sex doesn’t have t’ be super damn personal,‴ is all he manages, because, really, it doesn’t have to be personal…well, to him it doesn’t. He’s used to having sex with someone and never talking to them again. It’s just how he rolled usually–he didn’t get attached because his line of work called for near death a lot. He wasn’t so selfish as to drag someone into a relationship and then possibly die. He wasn’t ready to hurt someone that way. He was a horrible man, sure. Just not that horrible.
Now, wait, that’s ruining his boner. Uh, right. Oh.
Natasha was talking to him–and a hand was going down his chest. Oh hello there. He smirks lightly, rumbling softly in response to her attentions, hands fitting at her waist as she lifts onto the counter. And fuck yes, he’s pressed against her a little better now. His eyes flicker down between them, his hands pulling her closer to him, Rumlow pressing his hard heat against her legs with a low growl.
‴Ya know–‴ he starts, huffing into her quick kiss before squeezing her waist, hips pressed harder to her body in an attempt to get some much needed friction. His kiss is filled with a deep hunger, their equal taste of bitter coffee stirring into Rumlow’s mouth and nearly making him grumble happily. It’s one thing to kiss someone, it’s another to be hungry for it, to want it to not end, so he deepens it, head tilting and arms winding around her.
Her sitting on the counter doesn’t last too long, the man breaking for air and hoisting her up, a hand drifting to the back of her leg as the other stays around her body. ‴I don’t think we’ll make it t’ the bed,‴ he pants, biting her lip as he goes back for another hungry kiss.
