To Leena, there were a few upsides about wearing a dress for this kind of occasion: movement and, there was another, right? Maybe there was only one, and movement being the only thing. It gave range of motion, and, since it was short, no way of tripping. The downsides? No way to hide a weapon, but that's nothing to be dependent on. Natasha trained her to use her whole body and the things that were around in the environment. Her brown eyes searched the room, noting the candles were actual candles, so solid wax could leave a mark, so could the mantle clock, if it wasn't fixed.
“Stop being obvious,” the voice next to her whispered, as the hand on her hip tightened its grip.
“I’m not,” she hissed, her eyes meeting the woman’s across the way, forcing a smile.
“Relax, I got your back.”
“I know, Étienne. It’s just, this is the closest we’ve come in the last month.” It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy his company, it was just that she hated being the damsel in distress, depending on a man to take care of her. “I’m itching for something.”
“Easy, petite renarde,” he chuckled, “We’ll go home soon.”
Never had had a mission that lasted this long before, and this was the first time she was on a mission with Steve. Usually she would be excited about fighting alongside him, but doing recon undercover? Not so much. At least this time they got to pose as a married couple, but this presented something new for her. She actually had to listen to her boss because was on the mission with her. It was easier to defy him when they could only communicate over coms, and not to mention the sneaking out was a breese before as well. Leena’s thoughts were interrupted by the woman she first laid eyes on, who was now staring at her that made Leena feel uncomfortable.
“Uh, Steve?” she whispered, “I think Edonia Desmarais made us.” Sure enough the petite blonde was eyeing them with scrutiny, her focus was the tall beefcake next to her, which didn’t surprise her. “Told you I should have been here with someone like Sam or Clint. They’re not so recognizable. Even with the beard, you’re still Steve Rogers.”
“Well, I guess we are in for a fun night then, right chéri?” he chuckled as he let go of her arm. “Maybe we’ll be stateside by morning.”
------------
The alarm went off in an annoying string of beeps. Leena rolled over and slammed her hand down on the snooze button then rolled back to snuggle into the warm body next to me. A groan escaped her lips when it moved away from her causing the person it belonged to chuckle.
"Wake up, chéri. You don't want to keep Fury waiting."
She groaned again, pulling the covers up over my head. "Sorry Captain, your chéri thinks she might be coming down with something," she muttered into the pillow. Leena waited for his rebuttal, but instead of voicing it, she felt his hand on her hip under the sheet, gripping it ever-so firmly, eliciting a whine from her.
"Steve, just five more minutes. We just got back from France not even four hours ago, let alone fell asleep what felt like minutes ago."
"And who's fault is that?" he said, the smirk could be heard through the words His fingers grazed her skin just above her shorts, bringing forth a hum of contentment.
"She blame you," Leena sighed, removing the material from her head to look at him. The smirk was there on his face, blue eyes shining with amusement. “You and your incredible body in that tux, covered in dirt, sweat, and blood.” A small groan followed with a bite to her lower lip as she pulled the image up in her brain.
"You're the one who initiated," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his fingers continued their path up her ribs. His touch on her bare skin sent zings of electricity through every nerve she had.
"And you're the one that tempted me," she retorted, biting her lip harder than before as his fingers moved to her stomach and further up to the valley between her breasts. "Vous serez la mort de moi," she moaned as his hand covered one mound, kneading it gently. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers carding though his blond locks to bring him closer to her, locking their lips in a slow, deep kiss. This man was intoxicating and made things so very hard to do when they needed to be done. She shifted her body, pressing it flush against his as her leg hooked over his hip. What she found there made her moan, nipping his lip.
"We need to get going Lena," he groaned, removing her leg before rolling out of bed. He walked into the en suite and she rubbed her eyes before admiring his naked stride.
"Next time, I vote for one more night in Bordeaux," she called to him as she got out of bed and walked to the closet. She stripped out of her pajamas and noticed a dark bruise forming on her left thigh.
"I didn't notice that last night," Steve said from the doorway of the bathroom, already in his slacks for work.
"Well the lights were off," she smirked, laying the clothes on the bed and walked up to him. "Won't be a mission without a bruise or two." She slipped by him to use the shower but his large hands gripped her waist and lifted to set her on the countertop. A small yelp sounded from her as her hot skin met the cold marble. He stooped down, his fingers running over the marked skin and placed a light kiss on darkened skin, sending a shiver up her spine.
Steve stood up, smirking. "Later," he whispered, his index finger tapped the tip of her nose causing it to scrunch it up. "Get in the shower or we'll be late."
"Yes, Sir," she drawled out, eyes fixed on his as her lips curled into a smile. There was no denying what he was thinking about as she looked into his eyes: his pupils were dilated and the normal cerulean blue was now deep and dark. Fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him closer so she could wrap her legs around his waist. A gentle hand pulled him down into a heated kiss. Calloused hands found their way to her waist, fingers digging into the flesh; he tried his best to stay in control but once her fingertips lightly grazed his extremely toned stomach, he pulled away, lifting her in the process.
"Damn it, Lena," he growled, his fingers digging into her ass. "Fury is going to kill us for being late."
"I'll make it worth your while," she smirked and she leaned into whisper, "Je vais même parler en Français, Monsieur." Before she could give him a kiss, he tossed her back onto the bed causing her to giggle. She knew how to get him distracted from work, and it was working. Slow movements were made from both of them, a common thing they both hated: being rushed. She watched as he slowly undid the button of his slacks, making her lick her lips with anticipation.
“Tu ferais mieux, petite renarde," he replied, moving to cover her body with his, making her smirk even more as she felt his arousal against her thigh. There were things about him that surprised her, and him having a language kink was the best of all. The job came with knowledge of languages, and Steve knew a few of his own. So, yeah. She wasn’t playing fair when she promised to speak French, but he could have said no, even if it killed him to say it.
He peppered kisses along her neck, slowly moving towards the sweet spot behind her ear, moving himself to let a hand slide between them, fingers slipping through wet folds and teeth dug into the juncture of her neck.
"Bien sûr monsieur," she moaned, as her back arched into him, her own fingers digging into his broad shoulders as her legs fell open for him. Yeah, Fury was going to be pissed, but it'll be worth it.
Leena Bakshi, aka Lena Beck, has made a living as a spy, taken in by Nick Fury and trained by Natasha Romanoff. The one thing that Natasha always taught her was to be cautious with those she gave her heart to. Now she wished she had heeded that warning.
(Chapters marked with *** have smut. Please read all warnings for each chapter)
