They help each other out now and then, between SHIELD missions. It's just a buddy thing. Natasha's told him many times that she can get laid whenever she wants, and he's told her that he doesn't need her help to find a girlfriend. But everyone has needs, and Steve's not a blushing virgin.

Neither is Natasha. Not by a long shot.

They're one day back from resolving a delicate situation in France - foreign ministers getting twitchy, a hostage situation that never really became a hostage situation - when Natasha eyes Steve up and down and says, "My place?"

"Absolutely," Steve says.

They get off at five - a nice, standard day at SHIELD, the kind that really only happens once a month. Steve's okay with it; weird hours mean less paperwork. He hitches a ride with Natasha, and she drives them to her DC condo.

When the door is closed behind Steve, Natasha turns to look at him. "That girl in engineering, what's her name? Jennifer? Or that guy at the help desk with the earring, Albert. Though Albert's an odd name. Either one -"

Steve grabs Natasha by the hips and slams her against the door, kissing her.

She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing back just as hard. She hoists herself up, wrapping her legs around Steve's hips, and Steve's hands come to her ass to hold her up. He can already feel how turned on she is, body heat through two layers of clothing, and when he squeezes her ass and presses her more firmly against the door, she moans.

"My room, Rogers," she says when they break apart. "Unless you want to fuck me standing up again."

Steve kisses her neck, then bites, not quite hard enough to leave a bruise. "I had something else in mind," he says, and carries them to Natasha's room.

She lets herself down, stripping quickly. Her eyes are on Steve the entire time, and they've done this often enough that Steve doesn't even blush. He strips just as quickly, then presses her down on the bed, mouthing at her tits.

She's wet, so wet that when he pushes her thighs as wide as they'll go, he can slide two fingers in easily. She arches against his hand, grabbing onto his hair and tugging as he scrapes his teeth lightly over her nipple.

"You gonna go down there, or do I have to ask more nicely?" she says.

He looks up at her and smiles. "I'm getting to it," he says, and then thrusts his fingers, deliberately curling them up.

"Fuck," she says. "Steve -"

He moves down, shoving a pillow under her hips. It's so good like this, bending down so that he can lick a line up her cunt, from his fingers to her clit. Natasha doesn't like anything fancy; he tried tracing the alphabet once and she kicked him. She likes it hard and fast, so he flicks her clit with his tongue, sucks, and thrusts his fingers, curling them over and over. She gets wetter, slicker, and without thinking he adds another finger. She's so wet that his hand is dripping, and when she starts to shake and says, "Steve, Steve," he thrusts his fingers in one last time and presses down on her clit, hard.

She comes with a sudden stiffening of muscles, her thighs tightening around his head. He licks her slowly as she comes down from it, every brush of his tongue against her clit making her shudder.

But Natasha's refractory period is almost zero. "On your back, sailor," she says, shoving at his shoulder with one foot. He pulls away and licks his lips, then his fingers, while Natasha watches. She likes that.

And Steve - Steve likes it too. He's achingly hard and suddenly aware of it in a way he wasn't before. He lets her push him down on the bed, put a condom on, then ride him, her hips working frantically. She's still so wet and so fucking hot, her tits bouncing, nails scraping down Steve's chest. He's full of sensation, head to toe, shuddering and thrusting up as best as he can. He watches as she plays with her tits, squeezes around him deliberately, until he's so close that all he can do is throw his head back and come.

She bends down far enough to kiss him through it, sweetly, tongue darting out into his mouth. When he's done, she pulls off, tosses the condom in the trash, and looks at him.

He takes the pillow out from under his head and motions at her, movements weak. "Come here."

Her smile is definitely very, very smug, but it's so hot that Steve doesn't even care. He grabs hold of her thighs as she settles around him, licking her again, thrusting his tongue into her hole and tasting her.

This is the way he likes it best, after he's been all fucked out. Letting Natasha use him, his cheeks and lips getting messy as she rides his face. He's not hard, but he's still turned on as he shallowly fucks her, sucks at her clit, runs his tongue all over her folds. She grabs at the headboard, moving easily against him, thighs not even shaking with the effort. He digs his hands into her thighs a little harder, pressing her down until it's just the right side of hard to breathe, licking at her clit until she gasps and slams a hand against the wall.

"Harder, Rogers, fuck, come on..." She keeps going, in Russian and English, as he eats her out until he's aching, neck and jaw straining from the effort. And then finally, finally she says "Don't you dare stop," so he doesn't, flicking his tongue back and forth on her clit until she comes, slick and hot against his mouth.

After, she flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Steve wipes his mouth - and his cheeks, and his chin - and then wipes his hand on the bed. She catches him doing it and smiles a little. "You're doing my laundry."

"You're the one who got me all dirty," Steve says.

"I guess I did," Natasha says, lazily pleased. "Do you want dinner? I can order sushi."

"Dinner would be great," Steve says. "Though there's a dirty joke in there somewhere."

"You wouldn't know," she says, and laughs when he makes a mock-offended face. "Grab my tablet, it's in the drawer."

He's happy to obey.