Fic: Gleam

Sep. 23rd, 2012 04:40 pm
sabinelagrande: (marvel - trollface)
[personal profile] sabinelagrande
Title: Gleam
Summary: Natasha figures out Maria's secret. Natasha wants in.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 1652
Rating/Contents: NC-17, bootblacking, service submission, D/s, dirty talk, leather kink
Pairing: Natasha/Maria, Fury/Maria
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For [community profile] kink_bingo (leather latex rubber)! Only wildcard left to go!

Natasha doesn't realize it all at once; it comes to her by degrees, as she picks up a hint here, a clue there, the correlation between the black underneath Maria's fingernails and the shine on Fury's boots. She'd already seen the signs, the very subtle way that Maria leans towards him, clues so tiny that only she and Clint would ever pick up on them. It's all very interesting, and Natasha wants in.

The boots come from the back of her closet, bought for some mission or another. They're not comfortable, not in the least, but they are very impressive, knee-high with a series of buckles and straps that go all the way up. There's no zipper; these are the honest to god kind, the kind of thing that only people with a serious interest in serious things wear.

Natasha is very serious about this.

Clint gives her the side-eye when she takes to wearing them, but Clint's been known to be quite a hypocrite when it comes to her fashion choices. Anyway, Clint's approval isn't the important thing; the important thing is that she's catching Maria's eye, drawing somewhat unhappy looks when she happens to saunter by.

It doesn't take long before Maria corners her, and Natasha's impressed. More than anything, Natasha values her directness, her sense of urgency, her resistance to bullshit. "You're fucking with me," she says.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Natasha replies.

"Innocent's a bad look on you," Maria tells her, and Natasha smirks. "Nobody walks around in knee-high boots with buckles just for fun."

Natasha shrugs. "Maybe I do."

Maria crosses her arms over her chest. "You can cut the act and we can get on with it, or you can fuck around some more, but I haven't got all day."

Natasha raises an eyebrow at her. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to be in control in this situation."

"Until I'm on my knees, nobody controls me," Maria says, something dark in her eyes.

Natasha smiles. "Good deal."

Maria nods. "My quarters at nine."

"As long as the world's not ending," Natasha says, a little SHIELD in-joke, a dark one.

"As long as the world's not ending," Maria replies, with a satisfied smile.


Natasha is fashionably late, but Maria doesn't look as if she's at all surprised by this development. Maria's quarters are standard-issue, with hardly anything that says that someone lives there; except for the quilt on the chair, they could be anybody's.

Natasha sits down on the bed; she really doesn't know what's supposed to happen now, and she's not particularly averse to asking this early in the game. "How does this work?"

"How do you want me?" Maria asks.

"Take your clothes off," she says, just to see if Maria will do it. She honestly doesn't know what kind of a thing this is, how far Maria is going to let her push- she's going to push, that's just in her nature, but there's a line, and Natasha doesn't know where it is yet.

She hasn't hit it, apparently, because Maria doesn't hesitate. She pulls off her shirt, toeing off her shoes and socks before she pushes her jeans down over her hips. Her bra and panties are utilitarian things, uninteresting, and it's so much better when they're gone.

"On your knees," Natasha says, and Maria folds, just like that, right between Natasha's spread legs. It's highly appealing, the way she'll give it up so quickly; Natasha expected a fight, but this is more interesting, the calm of it. That doesn't mean that she misses the subtext, the hidden fuck you behind it all, written in the stiffness of her spine and the military-blank look on her face. "Show me what you can do."

Maria reaches under the bed, sliding out a Rubbermaid container and opening it. There's the kind of stuff Natasha expected in it, brushes, rags, leather cleaner, and a hell of a lot of polish, along with some stuff she doesn't recognize at all. Maria leaves it alone for the moment, though; she takes one of Natasha's boots in her hand, propping it up on her thigh. She runs her hands over it, smoothing them up the sides, and Natasha can feel her fingers through the leather. "These things are in horrible shape," Maria says, and Natasha snorts.

"Fix it," Natasha says, pressing her boot down harder on Maria's thigh.

Maria reaches into the box, picking out a brush and scrubbing at spots of dirt, some that Natasha can't even see. "Really, do you go wading in these? This is ridiculous."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry if my lifestyle doesn't exactly lend itself to the proper care of footwear."

Maria just shakes her head, going back to her work. It's a rag next, more spots, and Maria seems genuinely pissed off at her shoes for being so dirty. But eventually she sits back, surveying her work, and she finally seems pleased with it. She sets the brush down, reaching into the box and selecting a tin of black polish. She's not squeamish about it in the least, dipping her fingers straight into it and rubbing the polish onto the leather, spreading it all over. She takes a toothbrush out of the box, loading it up and getting the polish absolutely everywhere, every crevice of every strap.

"Next boot," Maria says, setting Natasha's foot on the floor.

"Ask me nicely," Natasha says sweetly, just to fuck with her.

Maria rolls her eyes, but she's blushing faintly. "Can I please have your other boot?" Natasha grins, putting her foot up on Maria's thigh and pressing in hard.

"Stop that," Maria says annoyed.

Natasha just presses in harder. "Stop what?"

"Stop that," Maria tells her. "This is bootblacking, not trampling."

"Whatever you say," Natasha says lightly, letting up on her, and Maria sets to work again, brushing and cleaning, carefully spreading the polish into every nook and cranny. When she's done, she takes Natasha's other foot again- she doesn't ask this time, and Natasha definitely notices the way her breath is coming faster. Now she starts with the real polishing, scrubbing with her brush. "Is this what the director makes you do?"

Maria's hands still. "You don't polish a leather coat," she says, forcing herself to move again.

"That's not what I asked," Natasha says, pouncing on it. "You're the one thinking about leather." Maria doesn't say anything, keeping her eyes focused on Natasha's shoes. "He's got a nice pair of boots too, and his never seem to be in bad shape." She runs her fingers through Maria's hair; Maria is buffing her boot with a rag now, restoring it to a high shine, keeping her gaze steady.

"Do you get on your knees for him?" Natasha asks, and Maria doesn't respond. Maria reaches for her other boot, polishing it quickly, and her hands are still quick and nimble despite how she's losing it. Her hips are working a little now, and Natasha knows she's getting close to the mark. She doesn't know whether she's getting down to the truth or getting down into some fantasy, but it's not important right now. She leans down, dropping her voice. "Does he make you suck him like this?"

"He prefers to fuck me," Maria says defiantly, and that's good, that's damn good, her obstinance even when she's in a position like this.

"I bet you make him leave the coat on," Natasha says, her voice low and seductive. "I bet he fucks you from behind, so it's all over you, draped over you while you take his cock."

"You're done," Maria says, putting Natasha's boot back on the floor.

"You're not," Natasha tells her, opening her fly and shoving her pants down, and then Maria's head is in her lap, tongue flicking over her clit. "Put your hands behind your back." On a hunch she slides the toe of her boot up between Maria's legs. "You know what to do," she says, and Maria moans against her pussy, rocking her hips, pressing herself up against Natasha's shoe. It must hurt, but Maria doesn't seem to give a fuck. She's just going after it, desperate, like she'll die if she doesn't get it, doesn't get to come.

She's still got her attention focused, her tongue delving into Natasha's cunt, sucking and licking and Natasha grabs the back of her head, not letting her go, making her take it. Maria doesn't stop, not for an instant, not even when Natasha moans, coming all over her face.

She shoves Maria's head away; Maria wobbles, unsteady, but she doesn't fall. She's still moving against Natasha's shoe, biting her lip. Her face is wet and she looks like a wreck, but she's still proud, defiant, still acting like she doesn't give a goddamn. The room smells like leather and polish and sex, and Natasha savors it, letting the moment drag out.

She angles her foot up, so that her boot is pressed harder against Maria's pussy, spreading her out just a little, just enough. "Do you want to come?" she asks.

"Yes," Maria grits out.

Natasha does it a little more, pushing her a little wider, and Maria gasps. "Who's stopping you?"

Maria pushes down hard, rocking her hips forward and coming, nice and loud, all that insolent composure swept away. "Shit," she hisses, her head bowed, her shoulders wracked with huge, sobbing breaths, and it's almost better than coming, seeing her like that.

"You can move your hands," Natasha says, and Maria braces herself, hands on her thighs. After she's come back to herself, she looks down at Natasha's boot, frowning. "I just polished that," she says critically.

"You made the mess, you clean it up," Natasha says, offering Maria her boot; Maria just gives her a look and starts again.

Natasha has to admit it: she did a damn good job.

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