He felt her trembling under him, her breath catching. He took his time, knowing the wait made it even better.
His kisses moved lower, growing bolder, and Natasha let out soft moans—little signs he was doing exactly what she wanted. His focus was completely on her, reading every reaction.
His hand slid to her inner thigh, fingers lightly exploring. She quivered, muscles tensing. He knew they were close.
He stopped, hovering just above the moment they would finally join. Looking up, he silently asked for permission.
Natasha's half-closed eyes and parted lips gave him the answer. She touched his jaw, her gaze telling him to stop waiting.
He took a slow breath and closed the last bit of distance. The first touch sent a jolt through them both. Natasha let out a soft cry, her body arching up to him.
He moved carefully at first, wanting to savor every moment. She matched his rhythm, gripping his back, nails digging into him, whispering his name.
Nothing else existed—only them, moving together in perfect sync. Their breaths mixed, hearts pounding as their pace grew faster, more urgent.
They pushed each other higher until, with a shared cry, they reached the peak, their bodies shaking with pleasure.
Slowly, the intensity faded. They lay tangled together, breathing hard, skin warm and damp. The quiet between them was full of satisfaction.
Alex looked down at Natasha, brushing hair from her face. She smiled softly.
"Wow," she whispered.
"Yeah, wow," he replied, smiling back.
He rested against her neck, not wanting to move. After a while, Natasha spoke.
"I'm starving."
"Me too," Alex chuckled. "Let's order pizza."
He reached for the phone, glancing back with a grin.
"Pepperoni?"
"Perfect," she said with a smile.
The room still carried the faint warmth of their closeness as Alex placed the order, his voice casual but his grin refusing to fade. Natasha shifted onto her side, propping her head up on one arm, just watching him.
"You look way too pleased with yourself," she teased.
"I am pleased with myself," Alex shot back, flopping down beside her again. "And with you."
She rolled her eyes, but the little smirk tugging at her lips gave her away. He reached out, tracing a lazy line along her arm, and she didn't pull away.
They talked quietly while waiting for the food—about the gala, the music, the absurdly over-the-top chandelier Alex swore was one bump away from crashing down. It was easy conversation, the kind that came naturally when two people were entirely at ease with each other.
A knock at the door broke the moment. Alex got up to grab the pizza, returning with the box and two bottles of soda. They ate in bed, cross-legged, still in nothing but what was left of their earlier clothes.
Halfway through a slice, Natasha paused, leaning back against the pillows. "You know," she said, "if we keep this up, we're going to have to start pretending we like going to galas just for the excuse."
Alex smirked, leaning closer. "Or," he said, "we could just skip the gala next time."
Her answering grin was slow and knowing. "Tempting…"
The rest of the night passed in that comfortable mix—playful teasing, shared food, and quiet touches that hinted neither of them was quite finished yet.
The pizza was abandoned halfway through the box, forgotten on the nightstand as Alex leaned in again, catching Natasha's lips mid-smirk.
Her breath hitched instantly, the teasing look in her eyes shifting into something warmer. She set her drink aside without looking, her hands already curling into his hair.
"You really don't waste time," she murmured against his mouth.
"You were asking for it," he countered, voice low, before kissing her deeper.
The second time was different—less cautious, more confident. They already knew each other's rhythm now, what made the other gasp, what made them pull closer. His hands roamed freely, finding familiar territory, and she met him with equal eagerness, nails grazing his skin in just the right way to make him shiver.
The air grew heavier, their breaths shorter, as they moved in sync again—this time faster, chasing that high without hesitation. Her soft moans and his quiet groans mingled, filling the room along with the faint creak of the bed.
When the peak came again, it was sharper, more intense, leaving them both gripping each other tightly until it passed. They collapsed into the pillows, flushed and laughing quietly at how quickly they'd given in.
Natasha rolled to face him, brushing a hand across his cheek. "Definitely better than the gala."
Alex smiled, eyes half-lidded. "Told you we should skip next time."
***
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing.
Natasha slept curled against Alex, her hair fanned across his chest, the city lights from outside catching on her lashes. Alex, half-drifting himself, felt warmth under his left hand—except… it wasn't her skin.
It was hot.
His eyes cracked open, and he realized his palm was pressed against something coiled around his wrist—a shape that shimmered faintly in the dim light.
"Mind telling me," he muttered groggily, looseing his grip, "why you're disturbing me in my sleep?"
A flicker of movement caught his eye—a sleek, silvery serpent uncoiling from his shoulder, its scales glowing faintly like molten metal. The air around it shimmered from the heat. Six eyes, arranged in a pattern that seemed too deliberate to be natural, opened one by one, all fixing on him with eerie calm.
The serpent flicked its tongue, and with a soft ripple of magic, its body seemed to phase slightly—half in this world, half somewhere else.
"Nyx…" Alex sighed, rubbing his temple, "you nearly bit me again."
The serpent tilted its head in a way that somehow felt smug.
Natasha stirred beside him, then pushed herself up on one elbow, eyes narrowing as she spotted the creature. "Alex…" she said slowly, "please tell me that thing is yours and not something that just crawled in here to kill us."
*******
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