Work Text:
The apartment was fucking freezing.
Natasha stood in the living room wrapped in two blankets—her favorite soft grey one and the ugly plaid thing Clint had given them as a housewarming gift—and still she could see her breath puffing out in front of her face. Outside, the temperature had dropped to something ungodly, the kind of cold that made New York feel like Siberia, and of course their heating decided to die.
She'd spent the last hour in the basement trying to fix it. Had looked at the boiler, turned dials, checked connections, hit things with a wrench. Achieved absolutely nothing except getting colder and significantly more pissed off.
The maintenance guy couldn't come until tomorrow morning. "Emergency call," he'd said on the phone, like this wasn't also a fucking emergency. Like people didn't die from exposure in these temperatures. She'd been polite. Barely. But the second she'd hung up she'd cursed him out in three languages, none of them English.
And where was Wanda during all of this?
In their bedroom. Where she'd been for the past three days, ever since their fight.
Natasha was still mad about the fight. Was still convinced she'd been right, actually. The argument had started stupid enough. Wanda wanted to spend Christmas with the team. Natasha wanted it just the two of them, like last year. Simple disagreement, easy to resolve if they'd both just been willing to compromise.
Except neither of them had been willing to compromise.
Wanda had pushed. Said Natasha was being selfish, that the team was their family too, that isolating themselves wasn't healthy. And Natasha had pushed back. Said Wanda was being naive, that just because they worked with people didn't make them family, that sometimes it was okay to want privacy. To want something that was just theirs.
And then Wanda had said it. The thing that made Natasha's blood boil even now, three days later.
"You're terrified of letting people get close to you. Even after all this time, you still think everyone's going to betray you eventually. That's not protection, Natasha. That's trauma. And you need to stop letting it control your life."
Natasha had stared at her. Had felt something cold and sharp lodge itself in her chest. Because yes, fine, maybe there was some truth to it. But hearing it from Wanda, said like that, like Natasha was some kind of broken thing that needed fixing—
"At least I don't need constant validation from everyone around me," Natasha had shot back. "At least I don't need a crowd of people telling me I'm good and worthy and special every five minutes. Some of us can exist without external approval, Wanda."
Wanda's face had gone pale. Then red. Her hands had started glowing faintly, that telltale scarlet that meant her magic was responding to her emotions. "Fuck you, Natasha."
"Right back at you."
And that had been it. Wanda had gone to the bedroom, slammed the door hard enough that a picture frame fell off the wall, and they hadn't spoken since. Three days of silent treatment, of avoiding each other in their own apartment, of sleeping separately and eating separately and pretending the other person didn't exist.
Natasha knew she'd been cruel. Knew she'd hit below the belt, gone for the thing she knew would hurt most. Wanda's insecurity about being wanted, about being valued for herself and not just her powers. It had been a low blow and Natasha knew it.
But Wanda had done it first. Had brought up Natasha's past like a weapon, like something to be used against her. Had called her traumatized like it was a character flaw instead of something that had been done to her.
So yeah. She was still mad.
But she was also freezing her ass off, and the living room was getting colder by the minute. Her fingers were starting to go numb even inside the blankets. Her toes felt like ice blocks in her thick socks. If she stayed out here all night she'd probably end up with frostbite or hypothermia or something equally stupid and preventable.
She needed to go into the bedroom. Needed the smaller space, the better insulation. Needed to be near another warm body because that was just basic survival protocol.
Fuck.
Natasha pulled the blankets tighter and trudged toward the bedroom, each step feeling like swallowing her pride and choking on it.
The bedroom door was closed. Of course. Wanda had been keeping it closed like she could physically shut Natasha out with a piece of wood. Natasha knocked, which felt absurd in her own apartment, and waited.
"What?" Wanda's voice came through the door. Flat. Unwelcoming. Still pissed.
"The heat's out."
Pause. "I know. I'm also freezing."
"Maintenance can't come until tomorrow morning."
Another pause, longer this time. "Okay."
"So we have a problem."
"We have a problem, or you have a problem?"
Natasha felt irritation flare hot in her chest, warming her more effectively than the blankets. "Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"Like..." Natasha stopped herself, took a breath. She was too cold for this. Too tired. "Can I just come in? Please?"
Silence. Then: "It's your apartment too."
Which wasn't exactly an invitation but Natasha would take it. She opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.
It wasn't much warmer in here but it was better. Marginally. Wanda was on the bed, wrapped in what looked like every blanket they owned that Natasha hadn't already claimed. Knees pulled to her chest, hair in a messy bun with strands falling around her face, wearing two of Natasha's sweatshirts layered over her own clothes.
She looked small. Miserable. Her nose was red from the cold, her cheeks pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes like she hadn't been sleeping well. Natasha felt something twist painfully in her chest despite the anger still simmering there, hot and acidic.
"So," Wanda said, not looking at her. "What's the plan?"
"I don't know. Wait it out until morning?"
"In this temperature?" Wanda's laugh was humorless, sharp. "It's going to drop below freezing tonight. Single digits. We can't just sit here wrapped in blankets for twelve hours and hope for the best."
"We have options. Hotel, maybe."
"Everything's going to be booked. December cold snap in New York? Everyone with broken heat will have the same idea."
"Call someone then. Stay with them."
"Who?" Wanda finally looked at her, and there was something sharp and bitter in her eyes. "Clint's in Iowa visiting his family. Tony's in Malibu doing god knows what with Pepper. Steve's on some mission in Eastern Europe. And I'm not calling anyone else to admit that we're so busy being mad at each other that we can't figure out how to not freeze to death in our own apartment."
"So we're stuck."
"Looks like it."
Natasha moved further into the room. Her feet were going numb through her socks, that pins-and-needles sensation that meant she was losing circulation. "Then we need to figure out how to stay warm. Realistically."
Wanda was quiet for a moment, still not quite meeting Natasha's eyes. "There's one obvious solution."
"Which is?"
"Body heat."
The words hung heavy between them, loaded with everything unsaid. Natasha knew Wanda was right. It was basic survival, cold weather protocol, the most effective way to prevent hypothermia. But the idea of being that close to Wanda right now, after everything that had been said—
"That's..." Natasha started.
"The most effective way to conserve warmth. We put all the blankets on the bed, get under them together, share body heat." Wanda's voice was carefully neutral. Clinical. Like she was discussing a mission briefing instead of suggesting they sleep pressed together. "It's not complicated."
"It's not not complicated."
"Nat." Wanda looked at her directly now, and something in her expression made Natasha's chest ache. "I'm aware we're fighting. I'm aware you're mad at me and I'm mad at you and neither of us wants to be the first to apologize. But I'm also aware that it's December in New York, our heat is broken, and the temperature is going to keep dropping. So we can either put aside our egos for twelve hours and keep each other alive, or we can freeze separately and see how that works out. Your choice."
Natasha wanted to argue. Wanted to insist she could handle it alone, that she didn't need help, that she'd survived worse conditions than this in the Red Room.
But she was already shivering despite the two blankets. And Wanda was right about the temperature. Of course she was right. She was always right about the practical things even when Natasha didn't want to admit it.
"Fine," Natasha said. "Body heat. Survival purposes only."
"Obviously." Wanda's tone was dry, brittle. "I wasn't suggesting anything else."
"Good. Because I'm still mad at you."
"Trust me, the feeling is extremely mutual."
They stared at each other for a long moment, tension thick and suffocating between them. Then Wanda sighed and started gathering blankets, piling them on the bed with more force than necessary.
"We should probably layer properly," Wanda said, not looking at Natasha. "For maximum heat retention."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning fewer clothes is more effective. More direct skin contact, better heat transfer." Wanda was already pulling off one of the sweatshirts, movements sharp and irritated. "You can keep your underwear on. I'm not suggesting we get completely naked. Just fewer layers between us."
Natasha knew this made sense. She'd been trained in cold weather survival, knew wet or excessive clothing could make things worse, that direct skin contact was most effective for sharing body heat. But knowing something intellectually and doing it with your girlfriend who you were actively fighting with were different things entirely.
Still. Survival first, feelings later.
"Okay," Natasha said. "Survival rules."
"Agreed."
They both started stripping down with clinical efficiency. Natasha pulled off her sweatshirt, her long-sleeve shirt underneath, her sweatpants, until she was in just a sports bra and boyshorts. Across from her, Wanda stripped down to a thin tank top and underwear, movements jerky and aggressive.
The air bit at Natasha's exposed skin immediately. Goosebumps everywhere, her nipples going hard from the cold, her muscles tensing involuntarily.
"Get under," Wanda said, climbing into bed and pulling the covers back. "Quick, before we lose more heat."
Natasha didn't argue. She dove under the pile of blankets, immediately pressing against Wanda because there was no point pretending they weren't doing this for warmth.
The contact was immediate and overwhelming. Wanda's skin was cold but still warmer than the air, smooth and familiar under Natasha's hands. Natasha pressed closer instinctively, seeking heat. Wanda did the same, both of them shivering as they pulled every available blanket over themselves.
"God, you're freezing," Wanda muttered against her shoulder.
"So are you."
"At least I was in the bedroom. You were out there trying to be a hero with the boiler."
"I was trying to fix it."
"By hitting it? Real effective problem-solving, Nat."
"Sometimes that works."
"Clearly not this time."
"Can we not do this right now?" Natasha was shivering hard, her whole body shaking in waves she couldn't control. "Can we just focus on not dying?"
Wanda made a frustrated sound but stopped talking. They lay there in tense silence, pressed together under six blankets, both trembling.
It took probably twenty minutes before Natasha started to feel marginally warmer. The violent shaking subsided into manageable shivering, her muscles slowly relaxing. Next to her, Wanda's breathing was evening out, her body losing some of its tension.
But the position they were in was awkward as hell.
They were pressed together front to front, every point of contact hyperaware. Natasha's arms around Wanda's waist, hands splayed across her lower back. Wanda's arms tucked against Natasha's chest, her breath warm and damp against Natasha's collarbone. Their legs tangled together, thighs slotted between each other's, maximizing skin contact.
This was the closest they'd been since the fight. And Natasha's body was responding in ways that were decidedly not appropriate for a survival situation.
"Your heart's beating fast," Wanda observed quietly after a while.
"Cold. Body's working to maintain temperature."
"Mm." Wanda shifted slightly, and the movement made her thigh press more firmly between Natasha's legs. "Is that all?"
"What else would it be?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
Natasha didn't answer. Couldn't. Because yes, her heart was racing from having Wanda this close again. From having Wanda's nearly-naked body pressed against hers, from the way Wanda's thigh had ended up right where it was, from the way Wanda's breath ghosted across her collarbone with every exhale.
"We should try to sleep," Natasha said, voice coming out rougher than she intended. "Conserve energy."
"Agreed."
But neither of them moved. Neither of them adjusted position or tried to create distance. They just lay there, pressed together, warming up slowly while tension coiled tighter between them.
Natasha tried to focus on anything else. The maintenance guy in the morning. What would need to be fixed. Whether they'd need a new boiler entirely. The mission reports she needed to file. Anything except how Wanda felt against her, how Wanda's hand had just moved slightly lower on her back, fingers splaying across bare skin above her boyshorts.
"Stop thinking so loud," Wanda said after a long moment. Her voice was low, rough.
"I'm not."
"You're always thinking. I can practically hear your brain working overtime from here."
"Then stop listening."
"Can't. You're pressed against me. Kind of impossible to ignore." Wanda's fingers flexed against Natasha's back, nails dragging slightly across skin. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to send sparks down Natasha's spine. "Everything about you is impossible to ignore."
Natasha went still. "Wanda..."
"What?" Wanda pulled back just enough to look at Natasha's face. Her eyes were dark in the dim light filtering through the curtains, pupils blown wide. "You want me to pretend I'm not feeling this? That you're not either?"
"We're fighting—"
"I know we're fighting." Wanda's hand slid lower, fingers skating deliberately over the waistband of Natasha's boyshorts. Testing. Challenging. "I'm still angry at you. Still hurt by what you said. But that doesn't mean I don't..." She trailed off, something complicated flickering across her face.
"Doesn't mean you don't what?"
"Want you." The words came out rough, almost angry, like she resented having to admit it. "I'm furious at you and I still want you. I hate that I want you right now but I do."
Natasha's breath caught. Her hand on Wanda's back tightened automatically, pulling her closer without conscious thought. "I'm still mad at you too."
"Good." Wanda's thigh pressed more firmly between Natasha's legs, creating friction that made Natasha's hips shift involuntarily. Seeking more contact even as her brain screamed that this was a bad idea. "Then we're on the same page."
"This doesn't fix anything."
"I know."
"We're still fighting."
"Yep." Wanda's fingers dug into Natasha's lower back, nails biting into skin hard enough to sting. "Doesn't mean I don't want you."
And then Wanda was kissing her.
It wasn't soft. Wasn't gentle or apologetic or tender. It was angry and desperate and three days of pent-up frustration bleeding into the way Wanda's teeth caught Natasha's bottom lip, the way her nails dug into Natasha's back hard enough to definitely leave marks. Natasha kissed back just as hard, just as angry, her hand fisting in Wanda's hair and pulling hard enough to make Wanda gasp against her mouth.
Wanda made a sound between a gasp and a growl and bit down harder on Natasha's lip. Hard enough to hurt. Hard enough that Natasha tasted copper, metallic and sharp on her tongue.
"Fuck," Natasha breathed, and used her grip on Wanda's hair to pull her head back, exposing her throat. "You want to bite? Fine."
She bit down on Wanda's neck, hard, sucking a mark into pale skin that would definitely be visible tomorrow. Dark purple and obvious and claiming. Wanda's back arched, pushing into her, and Natasha bit down harder.
"You're such an asshole," Wanda gasped, but her hands were pulling Natasha closer, nails raking down her back in lines that burned.
"You started it."
"You're the one who wouldn't just—" Wanda cut herself off with a sharp intake of breath as Natasha bit down on another spot, this one lower, at the junction where her neck met her shoulder. "Who wouldn't just talk to me—"
"Because you were being unreasonable—"
"I was being unreasonable?" Wanda grabbed Natasha's face with both hands, yanking her up to look at her. Her eyes were blazing, bright with fury and unshed tears. "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met. You'd rather freeze to death than admit you need anything from anyone."
"Maybe because needing people has never worked out well for me," Natasha shot back, her voice sharp and raw and more honest than she meant it to be.
"I'm not them."
"Not yet."
The words hit like a physical blow. Wanda's expression shifted—hurt flashing across her face before fury took over completely. Her hands started glowing, that telltale scarlet crackling around her fingers like barely contained lightning.
"Fuck you," Wanda said, her voice low and dangerous. "Fuck you for comparing me to them. For acting like I'm just another person waiting to betray you."
"I'm just being realistic—"
"You're being a coward."
Natasha felt something snap inside her. She grabbed Wanda's wrists, pinning them above her head as she rolled them, using her weight and years of training to press Wanda into the mattress. "Say that again."
"Coward," Wanda repeated, her eyes fierce and challenging even with Natasha holding her down. "You're too scared to let anyone in so you push everyone away first. That way it hurts less when they inevitably leave."
"At least I don't need constant reassurance that I'm not a monster," Natasha shot back. "At least I don't need everyone telling me I'm good and worthy every five seconds just to feel okay about myself."
Wanda's magic flared bright, scarlet light flooding the small space between their faces. The air crackled with energy. "Let. Go."
"Make me."
The magic surged, and suddenly Natasha was on her back with Wanda straddling her hips, pinning her down with both physical weight and magical force. Scarlet wisps wrapped around Natasha's wrists, holding them to the mattress. Wanda's hands were free now, pressing Natasha's shoulders down.
"You think you're the only one who gets to be angry?" Wanda's voice was rough, breathless, shaking slightly. "You think you're the only one who's hurt?"
"I know I'm not—"
"Then stop acting like you are." Wanda shifted her hips, settling more firmly on Natasha, and the pressure made them both gasp. "Stop acting like you're the only victim here."
Natasha tried to move her hands but the magic held firm. "I never said—"
"You didn't have to." Wanda leaned down, her face inches from Natasha's, her breath hot and ragged. "You say it with everything you do. The way you shut down. The way you refuse to talk. The way you'd rather freeze to death alone than ask for help."
"That's not—"
"It is." Wanda's hips rolled, grinding down against Natasha with deliberate pressure. The friction was immediate and overwhelming even through their underwear. "But you know what? I'm done playing your game. I'm done waiting for you to decide I'm worth the risk."
"Wanda—"
"Shut up." Wanda kissed her, brutal and claiming, all teeth and fury and desperation. Her hips kept moving, grinding down in a rhythm that had Natasha gasping into her mouth, fighting against the magic holding her wrists, needing to touch.
But Wanda wasn't letting her. Was keeping her pinned while she took what she wanted, grinding down harder now, chasing friction without mercy or apology.
"This what you want?" Wanda pulled back just enough to speak, her voice rough and breathless. "Want me to just take what I need? Use you?"
"Stop talking like I'm some kind of passive victim here," Natasha snapped back, even as her hips bucked up involuntarily, seeking more contact. "You're the one who brought up my trauma like a weapon—"
"And you're the one who attacked my biggest insecurity." Wanda's hips rolled harder, more deliberately, her head falling back as pleasure started building. "So we're even."
"We're not even close to even."
"Then let's get even."
Wanda sat up slightly, yanking her tank top over her head and tossing it aside. Her chest was flushed, nipples hard from cold and arousal, her skin breaking out in goosebumps. She looked furious and desperate and absolutely gorgeous.
"God, I hate you right now," Wanda breathed, but her hands were already moving to remove Natasha's sports bra, pulling it up and off with help from her magic since Natasha's hands were still bound.
"No you don't."
"I do." Wanda's hands went to Natasha's chest, not gentle, gripping hard enough to make Natasha gasp. "I really fucking hate you."
"Prove it."
Wanda's fingers found Natasha's nipples, pinching hard, twisting slightly. The mix of pleasure and pain made Natasha's back arch off the bed, a sound escaping her throat that she couldn't control.
"You like that?" Wanda's smile was sharp and mean. "Like when I hurt you a little?"
"Fuck you."
"That's the plan." Wanda shifted her hips, adjusting the angle so when she ground down again it hit Natasha's clit directly through the thin fabric between them. They both gasped at the sensation.
Then Wanda started moving in earnest, rolling her hips in a rhythm that had them both gasping, both chasing friction. Their legs tangled together, thighs slotting between each other's perfectly, creating pressure and heat and overwhelming sensation.
"That's it," Natasha breathed, finally giving up the fight and just letting herself feel it. "Take what you need."
"Don't tell me what to do." But Wanda's movements were becoming less controlled, more desperate, her magic starting to flicker and spark around them. "Don't tell me—fuck—"
"You're close already," Natasha observed, her voice rough and taunting even as her own body was responding just as strongly. "Three days without this and you're already falling apart."
"Shut up," Wanda gasped, but she was grinding down harder now, her rhythm faltering. "Shut up, shut up—"
"Make me."
Wanda leaned down, kissing her hard while her hips kept moving, kept chasing that friction between them. Her magic was crackling around them now, bright scarlet sparks dancing across both their skin, and Natasha could feel how wet Wanda was even through their underwear, could feel her own body responding the same way.
"I'm going to cum," Wanda gasped against Natasha's mouth, her movements becoming erratic. "I'm going to—fuck—Nat—"
"Do it," Natasha encouraged, her voice rough. "Cum for me. Show me how much you hate me right now."
Wanda did, her whole body shuddering, clenching, her magic flaring bright enough to light up the entire room for a moment. She was trying to be quiet but failing, broken sounds escaping her throat as she ground down one more time, hard, and fell apart.
When she came down, she was breathing hard, her hair a mess around her face, her eyes still dark and fierce despite the orgasm.
The magic around Natasha's wrists faded, releasing her. Natasha immediately grabbed Wanda's hips, flipping them roughly so Wanda was on her back with Natasha above her.
"My turn," Natasha said, her voice low and dangerous.
"Nat—"
"No. You don't get to just take and then tap out." Natasha yanked Wanda's underwear down and off, tossing them somewhere in the tangle of blankets. Then her own boyshorts followed. "You wanted to get even? Fine. Let's get even."
Her hand was between Wanda's legs before Wanda could respond, fingers sliding through wetness to press inside. Two fingers, then three when Wanda's body accepted them easily, still sensitive from just coming.
Wanda's back arched off the bed, a broken sound tearing from her throat. "Fuck, Nat, wait—"
"Why? You didn't wait for me." Natasha started moving, fucking into her hard and fast with no gentleness, no buildup, just raw need and anger translating into rough thrusts. "You just took what you wanted."
"That's not—oh god—that's not the same—"
"Isn't it?" Natasha curled her fingers, hitting that spot inside that she knew drove Wanda crazy, and Wanda's whole body jerked. "You wanted me desperate. Wanted me needy. Well congratulations, you got it."
"I didn't—" Wanda's words dissolved into a moan as Natasha's thumb found her clit, pressing down with firm, almost harsh circles. "I didn't mean—"
"Yes you did." Natasha leaned down, her mouth at Wanda's ear. "You wanted me to feel what you felt. Wanted me to hurt the way you hurt. So here we are."
She fucked into Wanda relentlessly, her fingers curling at exactly the right angle while her thumb worked her clit with punishing pressure. Wanda was gasping, writhing, her hands coming up to grip Natasha's shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to definitely break skin this time.
"You think you can just throw my past at me?" Natasha's voice was rough, angry, raw. "Think you can weaponize my trauma and I'll just take it?"
"You did the same to me," Wanda shot back, breathless and defiant even as her hips rolled up to meet every thrust, even as her body was clearly getting close again. "You went for what would hurt most—"
"Because you started it."
"So finish it." Wanda's nails dragged down Natasha's back, leaving burning trails. "Make me pay for it. Show me how angry you are."
Natasha did. She added a fourth finger, stretching Wanda, making her gasp and clutch at her desperately. Her thumb worked Wanda's clit in tight, merciless circles, and she could feel Wanda getting close again, trembling and clenching around her fingers.
"That's it," Natasha said against Wanda's neck, biting down hard enough to leave another mark. "Cum for me again. Let me feel how much you hate me right now."
"I don't hate you," Wanda gasped, her whole body tensing, teetering on the edge. "I don't—fuck—I don't hate you—"
"Then what do you feel?"
"Everything," Wanda choked out. "I feel everything and it's too much and I can't—"
She came hard, clenching around Natasha's fingers like a vice, her magic exploding outward in a burst of scarlet light that made the room flash bright. She was loud this time, uninhibited, Natasha's name tearing from her throat along with sounds that were half pleasure, half something that might have been a sob.
Natasha worked her through it, only gentling when Wanda's hand weakly pushed at her wrist, too sensitive to continue.
They lay there in the aftermath, both breathing hard, both covered in sweat despite the cold. Natasha carefully withdrew her fingers and collapsed beside Wanda, staring at the ceiling.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their breathing gradually evening out, the distant wail of sirens from the street below, the wind rattling the windows.
Then Wanda rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes were softer now but still fierce, still burning with something that hadn't been resolved.
"We're not done," Wanda said quietly.
Natasha turned her head to look at her. "Wanda—"
"No. We're not done." Wanda's eyes flicked toward the closet, and scarlet magic sparked from her fingers. "There's more. I need more."
The closet door flew open without Wanda touching it. The harness floated out, pulled by invisible threads of magic, landing on the bed beside them.
"Put it on," Wanda said, and there was still anger in her voice but something else too. Something desperate and needy and raw.
Natasha stared at her for a long moment. "You sure?"
"Yes." Wanda's jaw was set, her eyes challenging. "Put it on. Now."
Natasha sat up and reached for the harness, adjusting the straps with steady hands despite the adrenaline coursing through her. When she was done, she looked at Wanda, waiting.
Wanda moved, positioning herself on her hands and knees, back to Natasha. Looking over her shoulder with eyes that were dark and fierce and vulnerable all at once.
"Like this," Wanda said. "From behind. And don't..." She paused, swallowing hard. "Don't be gentle. I don't want gentle right now."
Natasha moved behind her, hands settling on Wanda's hips. She could see how wet Wanda still was, could see the tremor running through her girlfriend's thighs, could see the marks already blooming on her pale skin.
"Last chance to change your mind," Natasha said, because she needed to. Needed to give Wanda an out even though everything in her body was screaming to just take what was being offered.
"I'm not changing my mind." Wanda pushed back against her, impatient and demanding. "I need this. Need you to—" She cut herself off, breathing hard.
"Need me to what?"
"Fuck me like you mean it." Wanda's voice was rough, shaking slightly. "Like you're still angry. Because you are. I can feel it."
"I am," Natasha admitted. Her grip on Wanda's hips tightened. "I'm furious at you."
"Good. Show me."
Natasha lined herself up and pushed inside in one smooth, hard thrust. Wanda cried out, her back arching sharply, her hands fisting in the sheets. Natasha didn't give her time to adjust, just started moving, setting a hard, punishing rhythm that had Wanda gasping with every thrust.
"Harder," Wanda demanded, pushing back to meet her, taking her deeper. "I can take it. I can take anything you give me."
Natasha gripped her hips tighter, hard enough that there would definitely be finger-shaped bruises tomorrow, and fucked into her harder. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, mixed with Wanda's gasps and broken moans, with the creak of the bed frame, with Natasha's own rough breathing.
"Is this what you wanted?" Natasha asked, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "Wanted me to fuck you like this? Like I'm still pissed at you?"
"Yes," Wanda gasped, her voice wrecked. "Yes, god, don't stop—"
"I'm not going to stop." Natasha's hand moved from Wanda's hip to between her shoulder blades, pressing her down into the mattress. The angle changed, deeper, and Wanda's sounds got louder, more desperate. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't think straight. Until the only thing you remember is how this feels."
"Please," Wanda gasped, and the word was broken, desperate. "Please, Nat, I need—"
"What do you need? Use your words."
"More. Harder. I need—" Wanda's words dissolved into a moan as Natasha thrust particularly hard, hitting that spot deep inside that made her see stars. "Fuck, right there, right there—"
"Here?" Natasha angled her hips, hitting that spot with every thrust now, relentless and precise. "This what you need?"
"Yes, yes, oh god yes—"
Natasha fucked into her harder, faster, chasing something she couldn't name. All the anger and frustration from the last three days translating into this—into the brutal rhythm, into the way her fingers dug into Wanda's hips, into the force of every thrust.
"Touch yourself," Natasha demanded, her voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you cum around me."
Wanda's hand immediately moved between her legs, fingers finding her clit. Within seconds her whole body was tensing, trembling, her magic starting to spark and crackle around them again.
"That's it," Natasha encouraged, not letting up the pace, not giving Wanda any mercy. "Come on. Let go. Show me."
"Nat," Wanda gasped, her voice breaking. "Nat, I'm—I'm gonna—"
"Do it. Cum for me."
Wanda shattered, her whole body going rigid, clenching around Natasha so tight it was almost painful. She screamed into the pillow, her magic flaring bright enough to light up the room in scarlet, making the air crackle with energy. Her whole body was shaking, trembling through wave after wave of pleasure.
Natasha fucked her through it, only slowing when Wanda collapsed forward onto the bed, boneless and gasping, completely spent.
Natasha pulled out carefully, her own body thrumming with adrenaline and arousal and something else she couldn't name. She removed the harness and tossed it aside, then collapsed beside Wanda on the bed.
They lay there in silence for a long moment, both breathing hard, both covered in marks and sweat and exhausted.
Then Wanda shifted, rolling onto her side to face Natasha. Her eyes were softer now, less fierce, but there was still something vulnerable and raw in them.
"One more," Wanda said quietly.
Natasha looked at her. "Wanda, you're exhausted—"
"I know. But..." Wanda reached out, her hand finding Natasha's face, cupping her cheek gently. "One more. But different this time. Not angry anymore. Just... us."
Natasha understood. Something in her chest loosened, the last of the fight draining away. "Okay."
Wanda moved closer, and this time when she kissed Natasha it was different. Slower. Still intense but not angry, not desperate in the same way. Just them, finally, without the fury driving everything.
Natasha kissed back the same way, her hand coming up to tangle in Wanda's hair, holding her close but gentle.
When they broke apart, Natasha reached for the harness again. Put it back on without breaking eye contact with Wanda. When she was ready, she lay back against the pillows, pulling Wanda to straddle her lap.
"Like this," Natasha said softly. "Close. I want to see you."
Wanda nodded, settling herself over Natasha's hips. She sank down slowly this time, maintaining eye contact, and they both gasped at the sensation. More intimate like this. More vulnerable.
"Okay?" Natasha asked, her hands settling on Wanda's waist, steadying her.
"Perfect," Wanda breathed. She started moving, rolling her hips in a slow, deep rhythm. Nothing like before. This was about connection, about finding each other again through everything else.
Natasha's hands slid up Wanda's sides, tracing familiar curves with something closer to reverence now than possession. One hand settled on Wanda's lower back, pulling her closer, while the other came up to cup her face.
"I'm sorry," Natasha said quietly, the words finally coming. "For what I said. About you needing validation. That wasn't fair. You don't need anyone's approval. You're incredible all on your own."
Wanda's eyes filled with tears. Her movements stuttered for a moment before she found her rhythm again. "I'm sorry too. For bringing up your past like that. For weaponizing your trauma. That was cruel."
"We both were."
"Yeah." Wanda leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, her hips still moving in that slow, steady rhythm. "We're both idiots."
"Agreed."
Wanda kissed her, soft and deep, while her body kept moving. This wasn't about power or anger or proving a point anymore. This was about them—about Natasha and Wanda, about three years together, about choosing each other again after everything.
"I love you," Wanda whispered against Natasha's lips. "Even when I'm angry. Even when we fight. I love you."
"I love you too," Natasha said, her voice rough with emotion. "Always. Even when you make me crazy. Even when I want to strangle you. I love you."
Wanda's movements picked up speed slightly, her breath coming faster. Natasha's hands tightened on her waist, helping guide her movements, pulling her down harder.
"I'm close," Wanda gasped.
"Me too." And Natasha was, somehow, just from this—from the intimacy and the friction and the feeling of Wanda surrounding her, choosing her, loving her despite everything.
"Together," Wanda said, echoing her words from before. "Cum with me."
They did, both falling over the edge at the same time. Wanda's magic flared one last time, soft and warm instead of harsh, wrapping around them both like a blanket of light. They held each other through it, Natasha sitting up to wrap her arms around Wanda completely, holding her close while pleasure rolled through them both.
When they came down, Wanda carefully lifted off and Natasha removed the harness one more time, setting it aside. Then Wanda collapsed against Natasha's chest, and Natasha wrapped her arms around her, holding her close.
For a long moment they just stayed like that, tangled together, breathing each other in.
"I really am sorry," Wanda said quietly, her voice muffled against Natasha's shoulder. "For what I said. About your trauma controlling your life. That was... that was a fucked up thing to say."
"Yeah, it was," Natasha agreed, her hand stroking up and down Wanda's back gently. "And I'm sorry too. For what I said about you needing validation. I know you don't. I was just trying to hurt you back."
"I know." Wanda pulled back slightly to look at Natasha's face. "We're really bad at fighting, you know that?"
"We're really good at making up though."
"That's true." Wanda smiled, small but genuine. "So. Christmas. Can we actually talk about it now without trying to kill each other?"
"Yeah. I think we can." Natasha tucked a strand of hair behind Wanda's ear. "Christmas Eve just us, Christmas Day with the team. That sound good?"
"Perfect." Wanda kissed her softly. "Thank you. For compromising."
"Thank you for not giving up on me when I'm being impossible."
"You're always impossible. I signed up for that."
"And you're always stubborn as hell."
"You love it."
"I really do."
They settled back into the blankets, pulling them up over both of them. Wanda curled against Natasha's side, her head on Natasha's shoulder, their legs tangling together naturally.
The apartment was still freezing. The heat was still broken. The temperature was still dropping outside.
But here, wrapped around each other with the anger finally burned away and replaced with something softer, they were warm.
"Hey Nat?" Wanda said after a while, her voice sleepy.
"Yeah?"
"Next time we fight, can we skip to the makeup sex part faster?"