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Natasha’s lips were soft against his. He was engulfed in the sweet scent of her shampoo as his fingers reached for the hemline of her top.
***
Natasha’s hand gripped the bedsheet, her lower lip pale under the pressure of her teeth, her head turned to one side, eyes shut tight, her body tensed, ready to stay still and quiet through the pain, as Steve hovered above her. In her head, she was slapping and punching herself. How could she be stupid enough to believe that Steve wanted her for anything more than her body? How had she allowed herself to believe that Steve could be any different? She felt his hands roaming over every inch of her skin. Her breath trembled as she fought against the reflexive flinches, and the rebellious tears that tried to break free. She had done this more times than she could count, so why did this feel worse than all the other times?
Steve’s hands left Natasha’s skin.
“Nat?”
Natasha held her breath, anticipating what was to come.
“Nat?”
With a shuddering breath, Natasha turned her head and opened her eyes to find Steve’s eyes barely an inch away. She forced herself to look into them, to not flinch from the fear of what was to come, of what she must have done wrong to deserve more punishment, more pain. She was used to looking into men’s eyes to find the violence of their lust. But it wasn’t there in Steve’s eyes. There was only concern.
“Should we stop?”
Natasha didn’t know what that meant.
“Natasha? We can stop if you don’t want this.”
Confusion began to creep from her eyes into her brows and forehead, despite her attempts at keeping her face neutral, as she had learnt to from her years in the Red Room.
Steve rolled sideways off Natasha’s body. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Please,” Natasha pleaded, “please tell me what I’ve done wrong.”
It took a moment for the cloud of confusion to leave Steve’s eyes. “Nothing. Natasha, this isn’t punishment. I’m sorry I hadn’t considered… what the Red Room had taught you.” His voice faltered as he named the place he knew plagued her nightmares. “I won’t force you into anything.”
Natasha searched his eyes for the deception that wasn’t there. “Honest?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Her lips trembled. A tear broke free, followed by a small, pathetic sob.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She kept searching his face for lies beneath the kindness that leaked from every feature. She found none.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Natasha wondered if she was naive for choosing to believe him. But in defiance of the Red Room, she decided to ignore everything they had taught her, to ignore every alarm going off in her head, and pushed herself up to curl against Steve’s chest. His steady heartbeat drummed against her ear as memories crashed onto her, wave after cold wave, leaving her drenched and shivering. Steve ran his fingers through her hair. The pressure on her scalp felt oddly comforting. For the first time since she was six, Natasha allowed her tears to fall.