It's a powerful show of trust when Natasha turns her head to kiss the inside of Jasper's wrist in acceptance of his reassurance, and the fact that he can't possibly know that is one of the reasons she feels so deeply for him. Everything that he says to her can be taken at face value, Jasper feels to her as if he's come from a different world that isn't riddled with espionage and covert operations; he speaks several languages, and yet falsehoods simply doesn't seem to be one of them. He's complex, but he's simple in all the ways she needs, and when she finds it so easy to trust him Natasha feels like a normal person in those moments.
Instead of letting him lie back once more Natasha takes his hand, fingers curling around it to hold it from her face, and she gives a gentle tug to slowly drag him so he can sit up fully. Rising to her knees Natasha moves up his legs only to lower herself back down in his lap, his erection resting between them comfortably so she can roll her hips with the same languid pace as before to deliver a pleasing sense of friction. As she settles herself her eyes never leave him, every shift certain with fluidity that's rooted in confidence, and this time her gaze has nothing to do with making sure that he's alright and everything to do with the simple desire to see him. An arm wraps around his shoulders as her other hand guides his to her waist, and she only looks down for a moment to move his second to rest on her hip before her attention is directly his once more.
There's no need to ask again, her faith in him almost concerning if she cared enough to take the time to analyze it, so Natasha pushes forward by leaning down and pulling him into another unhurried kiss, and this time she savors it as the arm that isn't wrapped around him moves down between them to take a firm hold of him. When she parts it's only to rise up, and this time when she holds eye contact it's because she wants to see him now, in this moment particularly, which is ridiculous; Natasha isn't the sentimental type, or she wasn't before. Perhaps she is now, and that's simply one of the things she's learned about herself by being with him and Alice.
As she lowers herself back down Natasha guides him, her hand only moving from his base when she feels him breach her so she can, instead, grab onto his shoulder and keep herself steady. She moves with patience, her grip on his bare skin tightening only once with a paired flex of her jaw as she feels him sink deeper, and when Natasha finally feels herself flush against his groin she lets out a slow and almost pleased sigh through her nose. Her arms switch, one wrapping around him comfortably while the other returns so she can run her fingers affectionately through his hair to push it out of his eyes yet again, and for a few sweet lingering moments Natasha simply stays there, basking in the way it feels to be filled by him and wondering why, this time, it's so different.
Why does she feel as if she can stay in this moment for an eternity and be just fine with that, despite having no expectation or goal behind her motivations to be here? Why is it that being this close to him, despite her vulnerability in every way imaginable, does Natasha feel safe and at peace for the first time in her short but much too long life? The answer comes so simply in her head, and so immediately that it almost startles her because it feels as if it should be complicated and terrifying, wrapped in layers of questions and doubt. It isn't, though. Natasha realizes that she loves him, and it should frighten her how deep that goes; how thoroughly it's managed to tangle itself around her despite slipping past her guard in the first place. Yet there isn't a touch of fear to be found, and Natasha has to wonder if that's a part of the whole concept of love in the first place. She hopes so. What a wonderful idea.
Although she's far from ashamed, Natasha doesn't speak her realization aloud; it's not the time. Saying it now feels as if it might not hold as much weight, because people are usually swayed emotionally in situations like this, aren't they? She can't have Jasper believing that's the case, so instead she leans in to kiss him once more with his face still firmly in the palm of her hand, and she starts to move again, hips rolling to a steady rhythm that she sets for them to start them off.
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Instead of letting him lie back once more Natasha takes his hand, fingers curling around it to hold it from her face, and she gives a gentle tug to slowly drag him so he can sit up fully. Rising to her knees Natasha moves up his legs only to lower herself back down in his lap, his erection resting between them comfortably so she can roll her hips with the same languid pace as before to deliver a pleasing sense of friction. As she settles herself her eyes never leave him, every shift certain with fluidity that's rooted in confidence, and this time her gaze has nothing to do with making sure that he's alright and everything to do with the simple desire to see him. An arm wraps around his shoulders as her other hand guides his to her waist, and she only looks down for a moment to move his second to rest on her hip before her attention is directly his once more.
There's no need to ask again, her faith in him almost concerning if she cared enough to take the time to analyze it, so Natasha pushes forward by leaning down and pulling him into another unhurried kiss, and this time she savors it as the arm that isn't wrapped around him moves down between them to take a firm hold of him. When she parts it's only to rise up, and this time when she holds eye contact it's because she wants to see him now, in this moment particularly, which is ridiculous; Natasha isn't the sentimental type, or she wasn't before. Perhaps she is now, and that's simply one of the things she's learned about herself by being with him and Alice.
As she lowers herself back down Natasha guides him, her hand only moving from his base when she feels him breach her so she can, instead, grab onto his shoulder and keep herself steady. She moves with patience, her grip on his bare skin tightening only once with a paired flex of her jaw as she feels him sink deeper, and when Natasha finally feels herself flush against his groin she lets out a slow and almost pleased sigh through her nose. Her arms switch, one wrapping around him comfortably while the other returns so she can run her fingers affectionately through his hair to push it out of his eyes yet again, and for a few sweet lingering moments Natasha simply stays there, basking in the way it feels to be filled by him and wondering why, this time, it's so different.
Why does she feel as if she can stay in this moment for an eternity and be just fine with that, despite having no expectation or goal behind her motivations to be here? Why is it that being this close to him, despite her vulnerability in every way imaginable, does Natasha feel safe and at peace for the first time in her short but much too long life? The answer comes so simply in her head, and so immediately that it almost startles her because it feels as if it should be complicated and terrifying, wrapped in layers of questions and doubt. It isn't, though. Natasha realizes that she loves him, and it should frighten her how deep that goes; how thoroughly it's managed to tangle itself around her despite slipping past her guard in the first place. Yet there isn't a touch of fear to be found, and Natasha has to wonder if that's a part of the whole concept of love in the first place. She hopes so. What a wonderful idea.
Although she's far from ashamed, Natasha doesn't speak her realization aloud; it's not the time. Saying it now feels as if it might not hold as much weight, because people are usually swayed emotionally in situations like this, aren't they? She can't have Jasper believing that's the case, so instead she leans in to kiss him once more with his face still firmly in the palm of her hand, and she starts to move again, hips rolling to a steady rhythm that she sets for them to start them off.