( a shiver. she knows that name, but it feels rare against her skin — like she doesn't hear it often. like she might only hear it from him. there's something about it that feels right, and natasha arcs into his touch even when his hand rests on her neck. she ought to feel threatened. ought to know better than to let him get this close —
she doesn't care. not when his mouth is warm and inviting, when his hand is a promise on her thigh. rolling her hips back against his lap, natasha rests one hand on the metal one on her neck, murmuring something unintelligible and encouraging when his hand pauses at her thigh. )
I never play nice.
( a gentle tease that might land a bit more if she wasn't breathless and watching him with heavy lidded eyes. it's like they're they only people in this garden, even though she can hear the noise of others around them. )
no subject
she doesn't care. not when his mouth is warm and inviting, when his hand is a promise on her thigh. rolling her hips back against his lap, natasha rests one hand on the metal one on her neck, murmuring something unintelligible and encouraging when his hand pauses at her thigh. )
I never play nice.
( a gentle tease that might land a bit more if she wasn't breathless and watching him with heavy lidded eyes. it's like they're they only people in this garden, even though she can hear the noise of others around them. )
Don't make promises you can't keep.