You hated the secrecy of it all. The way the older woman acted as if she's never met you in public. Her affection only lasts a couple of hours before you’re abandoned when someone is around.
Her constant reassurance meant nothing when she would ignore you on the street. Yet you couldn’t seem to leave her. She was your poison, her words a constant reminder of what you couldn’t have.
You wanted to shout from the rooftops of your love for Natasha. You wanted to hold her hand in public, not being so anxious about getting caught. It was an impossible wish, you knew that but Natasha’s loving gaze kept you from leaving.
“What’re you thinking about, hm?” she asked. The woman was on her side, leaning her head on her palm. The flimsy blanket was sliding off her, revealing more of her flawless skin.
You pondered for a moment, deciding if you should bring it up. Natasha would always wave off your worries, reassuring you that it would all be okay. As much as you craved to believe her, you knew otherwise.
“This is wrong,” you muttered, already knowing the frown that had replaced the woman’s smile as you glanced away. You had never brought up the impropriety of the affair. Of course, your naive mind would be worried about what’s right and what’s not.
The older woman simply sighed as she shifted closer to you, clutching your hips and pulling you closer to her. She rests her head on your shoulder, reveling in the feel of you in her arms as she mutters, “but it doesn’t feel wrong.”
Your breath hitched at the feel of the woman’s lips lingering on your neck, gently peppering kisses along your windpipe. “Does it?” she finishes as her hands crawl upwards.
Her warm hands slip beneath the t-shirt you had pulled on earlier, fingertips stroking the skin beneath them. “I’ll show you how good it can be,” she murmurs against your skin as her fingers reach your perked nipples.
You can feel her hurried breaths against your ear as she moves a hand upwards circling your neck. “Cmon, baby, tell me how much you want it, tell mommy how much you want her,” she mumbles breathlessly.
Natasha’s left-hand slides down your waist, resting at the waistband of your panties. She defies your whining and pleads as she snaps the band against your skin. “Please mommy, make me feel good,” you plead with the little breath you have left in you.
The woman gives you mercy as she finally slides her hand down, immediately meeting the warmth between your thighs, “only because you asked so nicely,” she breathed. Natasha groans at just how heated you are for her, “God you’re so wet,” she mutters, “all for me.”
“Use your words, baby,” Natasha mutters, keeping up a slow place, purposely frustrating you even more. The older woman liked to hear you plead—need her. She knew you couldn’t do anything without her.
“I need your fingers,” you pleaded, clutching onto her wrist to try and move her to where you wanted it most. However, the redhead was quick to pin your hand down to the side, ignoring your whines.
“You know better than that,” she mocked, shifting to nip at your neck. She gradually let go of your hand feeling as your hand clasped the sheets below. “There we go,” she whispers, hand returning to its previous position.
Her hands make their way down, caressing your sides as she clutches your hips. She kisses her way down your figure making sure to look up at your hooded eyes. “How could this ever be wrong?” she mutters, knowing you couldn’t resist her if you wanted to.
“Please,” you pleaded, tired of knowing that what you were doing was wrong. The guilt would never stop so you want—need her to make it go away for a while. “Make me forget,” you mutter as you resist the desire to tangle your hands in her red hair.
Natasha frowns at your words, “I’ve got you,” she whispers against your skin as she slides your panties down your legs. She kisses up your thighs as she stares up at your heaving chest.
The older woman eases two fingers into your dripping cunt, groaning from the warmth that surrounds her fingers. You attempt to thrust your hips but her firm hand on your hip keeps you pinned to the bed.
She curls her fingers hitting that spot that makes you cry out, knowing your body so well. The hand on your hip moves up to unravel your hand from the sheets, intertwining your fingers.
Natasha moves to hover over you as she watches your face contort in pleasure, eyes sparkling in delight. She looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world. As her fingers continue their relentless assault, you can’t help but think of Wanda.
Did she see this every night? What would she say if the woman she loved was fucking someone else? What will happen when she finds out that her wife of years has someone else in her bed?
Your head falls back, loud moans tumbling out of your mouth as you struggle to control your breathing. Tears form at the unimaginable pleasure and guilt that rack through your body, “please,” you gasp, clutching onto the redhead's hand like your life depended on it.
Natasha leans in to bite at your neck and shoulder, leaving marks for everyone to see. “Go on,” she starts breathlessly, “cum for me.” She moves her thumb against your clit as the bucking of your hips becomes sloppy, your head pushes against the bed, and your eyes flutter closed.
Pleasure runs through your body as you tremble and twitch, Natasha gradually slowing her movements. She helps you ride out your high until you’re pushing against her hand, whining. The older woman lays down next to you, leaning on her side as she watches your chest heaving.
You both wait a bit in comfortable silence, and you know Natasha can see the remnants of your tears running down your cheeks. She brings a hand up to wipe at your tears. Yet her touch only seems to worsen your cries as you curl up into yourself, facing away from her.
You think turning away from her will help you forget you just slept with a married woman, but then you see it. The photos of Natasha and Wanda on the bedside table. They’re both smiling as Natasha has an arm around Wanda’s shoulder.
What have you done?
Natasha shifts closer to you, draping her arm around your waist and pulling you closer. She doesn’t acknowledge your cries as she holds you tightly. You eventually calm down, furiously wiping at your tears as you look at the window of her bedroom.
“I can't do this anymore,” you whisper, and you know Natasha hears it because you can feel her body stiffen. She stays quiet for a while, her thumb occasionally brushing against your hip. She sighs and holds you impossibly tighter.
“I know.”
None of you move, simply listening to one another’s breathing, and when you finally hear Natasha’s breath even out, you slip away. You glance around for your clothing, slowly moving around the room to avoid waking her up.
You’re about to walk out the door when you see a car pull up. Immediately recognizing it as Wanda’s, you slowly make your way out. The woman’s approaching the door confused about why you’re leaving. “Hello,” she calls out.
“Hi,” you start trying to avoid stuttering, “Natasha asked me to come over, and she fell asleep; I hope you don’t mind,” you added. Wanda simply nods, but you notice as her eyes flicker down, noticing the bruises on your neck. You gulp audibly, but she simply looks back up with a curt smile.
“Well, have a nice night, Y/N,” walking past you into the house. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and promptly walk back to your house.
Wanda walks into her house, sets her things down, walking to the bedroom. There she sees Natasha sleeping peacefully. She takes her time changing into her night clothes and slides in next to her wife. With a deepened sigh, she mutters, “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.”
