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Winter
A deep red. A vivid red. Just a ridiculous kind of red.
It was her symbol; luscious and beautiful, especially in time of winter.
And as the two of you trudged in an environment ravished by the chilling season, it was all you could think of. It was all you could see.
It was a signal, a trail that led you home to her.
Rose
It was one. One rose she handed to you, offering a grin.
“A rose, Natasha?” You said, astonished as you accepted it. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to woo me.”
“You must not know better, then.”
You brushed a rose petal against your lips as her grin grew wider still.
Hero
Killer. Assassin. Spy. Liar. Monster.
“I’m not a hero,” Natasha said, slipping on her boots.
She didn’t like it when you corrected her —
A true monster wouldn’t mind not being a hero. You do.
Finger
You shouldn’t have underestimated her.
“Oh, fuck, Natasha!”
The full brunt of your orgasm was still in place as Natasha pulled herself back up to the pillows to look at you, face alight with a smirk.
“So,” she said. “Can’t make you come with one finger, huh? How’d that work out for ya?”
Sorry
Neither of you were very good at the word, but when it was necessary, you'd feel it in the tautness of Natasha's countenance, trying to convey to you what she truly felt.
And she'd feel it in you when your eyes word search her with no words involved, hoping the word would simply seep from your gaze and touch her.
Goodbye
Neither of you were very good at this word, either. So you never said it.
Legacy
You were soldiers, weapons, warriors. What was to be your legacy? What couldn’t be replaced?
Well …
You laced your fingers with Natasha’s, quiet and laying side-by-side, soaking in the color of her eyes.
“Do you regret any of it?” she asked.
You smiled, and without a pause, said, “Not a moment.”
Aunt
Aunt Natasha was the greatest discovery you could’ve had made.
She watched you, waiting for the laughter, or the playful taunting to start. Her lip curled a little, unable to contain a little bit of the laughter herself.
You watched her with a smile. “Ever thought of being Mommy Natasha?”
Her face fell, but not into something solemn. She tilted her head, and seemed to follow you.
“You know I have.”
Lonely
You both were; she was the assassin, the one with no past, no ties, no community, and it was easy to excel at those things when lies worked through you like water down your throat, when you could slither by unnoticed by all until you were noticed, when you had no home.
You gave her a home.
You gave her something very wonderful.
You gave her something very dangerous.
Talent
It made you so aroused, and so jealous.
Just how many others has she kissed in order to get this good?
You closed your eyes, and realized when her lips came over you again, that you didn’t care for the answer.