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If I just lay here.

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Clothes were scattered around the room, the bed sheet was crumpled at the bottom on the mattress. Natasha was lay on her back, her red hair was splayed across the white pillow. You head was rested against Natasha’s collarbone, her chin occasionally resting against the top of your head as she moved. Your stomach was pressed against her hip, and your legs were spread out, so they were at either side of Natasha’s left leg.

Natasha’s left arm was loosely wrapped around your waist, and her right hand, was placed against the base of your skull, her fingers massaging into your skin, eliciting soft mewls from you. Your left arm was pinned underneath Natasha, your right hand was rested against her chest, as you tried to slow down your shallow breaths from the previous events of the evening.

You couldn’t help but feel loved and safe with your bare skin pressed against Natasha’s, and her strong arms wrapped around you. It was hard not to feel loved and protected by Natasha, but when you were alone, and naked, cuddled together nothing could convince you that Natasha didn’t love you.

As you lay there, in the warmth of her embrace, you started to drift your right hand against her skin. Because of the serum Natasha was injected with inside the red room, and the accelerated healing that gave, she didn’t typically scar from the injuries she obtained. Your fingers still found their way to the few scars littered across her body. You’re fingers rubbed against the bullet by Natasha right hip, it was the most prominent of her scars.

“Have you ever told Bucky about this, about the scar, and what happened in 2009?” You asked, your voice soft, and barely above a whisper, but now that your breathing had returned to its normal pace, there was nothing louder than your voice. Natasha just shook her head no, her right hand started running through your messy hair, undoing any knots she came across. “There’s no point, I know that the Winter Solider isn’t our Bucky,” She paused for a moment before continuing “the man who shot an engineer through me, isn’t the man who runs through Avengers tower with you and Sam pranking everyone.”

“I don’t hold any grudge towards Bucky” she informed you as her hand reached back up to your skull, her fingers massaging the base of your skull once again. “Besides he doesn’t remember it, there’s no point bringing up old ghosts.”

At that you moved your finger tips away from the bullet wound, across her body and down her left leg, towards the scar above her kneecap. The origins of which you were unclear about, but you knew it happened in her childhood. It could have been anything from ballet, tree climbing to her training in the red room.

Your fingers reached up once more to the last obvious scar on Natasha’s body, an arrow wound below her left collarbone, where Clint had shot her before she joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natasha tensed up as you rested your fingers against it, it was one of her biggest physical insecurities. It represented everything Natasha hated herself for, the red in her ledger, everything she did to Clint and S.H.I.E.L.D. You moved yourself slightly, and pressed your lips against the scar, leaving a long lingering kiss on her skin. The contact caused her to relax her muscles once again, but her left arm that was wrapped around you tightened, holding you closer to her.

Natasha also had two tattoos, one she loved and one she despised, they both branded her a part of something. The first tattoo, which you resisted the urge to bring your fingers up too, knowing that it was still an insecurity of hers, she got when she was seven. The small, now faded, red outline of a square located behind her right ear. The tattoo that branded her as one of the ten girls chosen to continue the black widow program. You knew she hated it, the constant reminder of what she was, who she was trained to be. She also hated that she was marked unwillingly, marked as a part of something she never wanted to be.

That is why her second tattoo was so important to her, it was her choice to be a part of it, and she chose to mark herself as belonging to it. You took her left hand in your own, flipping it over, so the tattoo on the inside of her wrist was exposed. You ran your thumb over the black Avengers logo. It marked her as everything she wanted to be, more than everything they made her, an avenger, a hero.

The one mark Natasha didn’t have on her body was a birthmark. When Sam and Bucky found out, they started the joke, that was still running to this day, that it meant Natasha wasn’t born. The theories to replace Natasha being born ranged from stupid to downright insane. You always said that it meant you were destined to be together because while Natasha had no birthmarks, you have two. Natasha likes your theory a lot more.
After you finished exploring Natasha’s body with your hand, you dropped her hand from your own, resting your right hand against her chest once more. As you lay still and peacefully in her arms, you could hear her soft breathing and feel her heart beat against your hand. You were surrounded by Natasha and you had never felt more at peace.

As you lay still in her arms, it was Natasha’s turn to explore your body. Her right hand dropped from the back of your head to your shoulder, before drifting down your body, her fingertips running over the stretch marks on your chest, your hips and thighs, “you’re beautiful” she whispered into the top of your head, “so are you.”

Natasha hand slipped towards your inner thigh, her fingers landed on the four perfectly placed scars. You had never exactly talked about them with Natasha, but you knew she knew, and that’s why she didn’t pry, or didn’t leave her fingers lingering there for too long, but she did press a kiss into the top of your head before moving her hand.

The last mark on your body that Natasha reached for was the small tattoo on the inside of your right wrist. She took your hand in her own, similar to how you did to hers not long ago, and turned your hand to expose the inside of your wrist and the tattoo.

A small black widow spider. Natasha had argued with you when you said you were getting it, because what if you broke up, or something happened. But you had wanted a reminder, no matter what happened, that Natasha had loved you and protected you. She had taught you so much, taught you not only to protect yourself, but to love yourself, and nothing could take that away. She was your hero.

Her right arm the found it’s way around your waist and she held you tighter, and you snuggled yourself as far as possible into her, until it was just the two of you, cuddling together, the world fading away.

Until Jarvis spoke up, “Miss Romanoff, Mr Stark is really insisting you come to his lab, now.” Both of you sighed at the AI’s comment, and you buried your face into Natasha in a futile attempt to make her stay with you. “Baby,” she said her voice soft but still tough, as she ran her fingers through your hair, you sighed and rolled onto your back.
Natasha rummaged around the floor looking for clean clothes belonging to her. You lay in the same position watching your beautiful naked girlfriend, admiring her beauty, and every inch of her body from afar. As Natasha pull on her t-shirt, you called out “Fuck, I love you” she turned around at that a soft smirk on her lips as she walked over to you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she leaned over to place a lingering kiss on your lips. You wrapped you arms around Natasha’s neck as you deepened the kiss, and at that she moved one of her legs over you, straddling your waist. A few seconds later she pulled away, putting her hands on your shoulders, “Babe, I really have to go.” You let out a soft sigh but dropped your arms from around her neck as she placed a quick kiss on your forehead.

A pair of jeans later and Natasha was almost out of the door, “I love you” you called out to her, “I love you so much,” she replied her voice soft, before she slipped out the door.

Dropping your head back on the pillow you closed your eyes, trying to shut off the world again. “Jarvis play chasing cars,” you called out to the AI, who’s sass chip kicked in as he replied, “I am not Alexa.” Rolling your eyes at the invisible AI you retorted, “just play the damn song, before I actually buy an Alexa and replace you.”