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“Come on, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says, taking Kate’s empty glass and offering her hand, pulling her up from where she’s sunken into the couch. “You still have to learn how to do a proper shot.”
Kate rolls her eyes, but follows her into the kitchen anyway, watching as Yelena navigates the small kitchen like she owns the place. She pulls four shot glasses from the cabinet (their mere existence thanks to her own doing) and lines them up on the counter, filling them with her fancy Russian vodka before pushing two over to Kate, the other two kept for herself.
This has been going on for four months now; ever since Kate made the mistake of ordering a chaser with her shot of Jameson when they were out one night, and Yelena had immediately made it her personal mission to teach Kate how to do a “proper” shot.
It isn’t so much that Kate doesn’t like shots or that she doesn’t know how to do them. She loves the burn of it in the back of her throat; the way the warmth spreads through her chest and eventually through the rest of her body, making her feel warm and cozy and just a little bit fuzzy around the edges.
No, Kate kind of enjoys doing shots — much more than drinking beer or mixed drinks that end up watered down before she can finish them, anyway — but it’s the smell that gets her every time. The second that sharp, antiseptic burn hits her nostrils it’s a lost cause, immediately triggering the cough Yelena is working so hard to eliminate.
They’re almost there, really. Their last attempt — after a mission two weeks ago, as a way to take the edge off before Yelena worked on patching Kate up — had only resulted in a small clearing of her throat afterward. Yelena had looked at her with a proud smile after and said she was almost there before doing a shot of her own, drinking it down without even a hint of a flinch, as easily as if she’d just had a drink of water instead.
(Kate had wanted to kiss her then, when a drop of the alcohol had escaped from the corner of her mouth and trailed down her chin.
But she didn’t.)
So that’s why Kate finds herself here now, standing next to Yelena in her own kitchen, with two shots of vodka in front of her on the kitchen island. Yelena leans against the end of the island, raising her tiny glass as a toast.
They clink their glasses and Kate downs the shot with a smooth flick of her wrist, tamping down the tickle she feels in the back of her throat. She doesn’t cough, or grimace, or twitch her nose, or even suck in a deep breath after.
Yelena looks at her with a wide grin, eyes fixed on her, and says, very sincerely, “That’s a good girl. I knew you could do it.”
And now? All of that non-reaction was for absolutely nothing because Kate’s instantly a mess at those words. She feels the heat spread across her chest and neck and face and it has absolutely nothing to do with the vodka. Feels it creep into her belly and surge downward as she grips the edge of the counter and shakes her head. She grabs the second shot and downs it without waiting for Yelena.
“No,” she says emphatically, slamming her shot glass down harder than she means to, but her voice holds the edge of a whine that she can’t manage to keep out. “No, you can’t do that. You’re not allowed to do that.”
“Do what, Kate Bishop?” Yelena asks, reaching for her second shot, eyes never leaving Kate’s as she drinks it down. Just like water.
Kate watches her throat work as she swallows, watches as her tongue creeps out to lick away the alcohol left on her lips, Kate’s own mouth going bone-dry. “Say... that.”
“Say what? Kate Bishop?” she asks, and Kate knows she’s playing coy with the way she drags it out, accent caressing the vowels.
“No! I mean... yes that, too. But no. That.” She can’t bring herself to say it. She doubts the efficacy of the words in her own voice, directed at no one in particular, but she’s not about to jump down that rabbit hole. Just to be safe.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
(She totally knows what she means.)
“You know what you said, Yelena,” Kate says, the edge of the whine from earlier making itself fully known, but she can’t bring herself to care.
Kate watches as Yelena plays back the conversation in her head, even acting it out as she mimes pouring and taking the shots. She sees the exact moment she registers what she said, and Kate knows she’s just putting on a show because the wolfish grin that takes over her features is not the look of a woman completely ignorant of what she’s doing.
Yelena leans forward, invading Kate’s side of the island, voice lower than normal when she asks, “Oh you mean when I called you a good girl?”
It’s ridiculous, honestly, the way Kate’s entire body reacts to two simple words. Jaw clenching, heat burning through her veins. Every stupid, traitorous nerve ending feels like it’s aflame; feels like if Yelena touched her, she would simply disintegrate. She doesn’t even have a stupid praise kink, except, apparently when it comes to Yelena.
Yelena and her stupidly sexy accent, and her stupidly sexy voice, that turn Kate into a useless, horny mess of a human in an instant. She wants to stamp her feet petulantly and whine like the frustrated mess she is, but she manages to keep a death grip on the very last bits of her composure as she responds.
“Yes,” Kate says, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before looking back at Yelena. “Exactly That. You are not allowed to do That.”
Yelena smiles, and Kate’s not sure if she imagines the way she leans in just a little closer when she says, “Why not? If you do something good, why can I not praise you for it?”
When Kate doesn’t respond, Yelena arches her eyebrow, watching her.
“Because,” is all she can manage without making an absolute fool of herself.
Without confessing to the way it reduces her to a mess, every. single. time.
Without confessing that the first time Yelena had said it — over comms, when Kate had taken out two guys with a single arrow — Kate’s lack of reaction was not due to the eyeroll Yelena had immediately assumed.
Without confessing that when she’d said it once in the middle of a sparring match — when Kate had managed to escape a hold Yelena had her in without Yelena having to talk her through it — Kate had then fucked herself under the coldest shower she’d ever taken in her life, and then again that night in bed, those two simple words repeating in her head.
Without confessing the number of times she’s fantasized about all the things she could do to get Yelena to say those two little words for much, much less innocuous reasons.
“Use your words, Kate,” Yelena says, inching forward.
Kate’s not entirely sure she’s not dreaming. (Or maybe she’s dead? Concussed? In a coma? Literally anything but in actual real reality.)
“Because it’s really fucking hot,” she murmurs before she can stop herself, gaze laser-focused on Yelena’s mouth, just out of reach of her own.
But then Yelena leans back, tilting her head softly to the side, and asks, “Is it?”
Kate wants to kiss that stupid faux-innocence off her face.
“Yes,” she breathes out. “You say that, and all my stupid bisexual brain can think about is all the different ways I can get you to call me... that.”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what your ‘stupid bisexual brain’ thinks about. What it is thinking about right... now,” Yelena urges, dragging a finger across the knuckles of Kate’s left hand, watching her own movements.
She’s lost for words, her head a jumble of potential ideas, but Yelena’s fingers are dragging over her skin and she looks up at her with that arched eyebrow and nothing can get Kate to admit the truth easier than that look.
“About... going down on you,” she admits, and she knows her face is red, she can feel it burning bright, but it’s the truth. There’s a number of things Kate’s imagined might draw those words from Yelena’s mouth. A number of different scenarios, different positions, but on her knees with her face buried in between Yelena’s thighs is definitely her favorite of them.
“Mmmm... that does not sound so stupid.”
Kate is definitely, one-hundred-and-ten percent, dreaming right now.
“...Yelena?”
“Kate.” Yelena’s fully focused on Kate now, gaze piercing; looking at Kate as if she can see every less-than-innocent thought she’s had involving the two of them. She wonders — just for a moment — if this is where Yelena breaks; where she laughs and tells Kate she’s just playing around, and Kate just prays the ground opens up and swallows her whole. And maybe Kate was on to something, thinking Yelena could read her mind because she gives her the slightest tilt of her head and an eyebrow raise.
A challenge.
An invitation.
Kate takes the half step to close the gap between them, falling into Yelena before she fully processes what she’s doing, but she stops herself just long enough to ask, “Can I?”
Yelena laughs softly but she shifts even closer, tossing her arms over Kate’s shoulders, her hips pressing Kate back into the counter as she says, “You will tell me you want to go down on me but ask permission to kiss me?”
Kate huffs and rolls her eyes but doesn’t back off. “Well, it’s not like you actually said yes,” she counters. “I—”
The rest of her words are lost as Yelena pulls her down into a bruising kiss, nails scratching at the nape of her neck, and if Kate felt like she was on fire before, then the fire is an absolute inferno now.
“It’s sweet, by the way,” Yelena mumbles against her mouth before kissing her again. “Asking.”
Kate hears herself whine when Yelena pulls away, but then her lips are making their way across Kate’s jaw and down her neck and Kate’s thankful for the way Yelena has her pinned, not trusting her own legs to keep her upright.
Kate dips her head, searching out Yelena’s lips and pulling her up into a slow, languid kiss. She drags her tongue across Yelena’s bottom lip, wordlessly pleading, and her cheeks flush when she feels more than hears Yelena’s murmur of appreciation. She loses track of how long they spend there, standing in the kitchen with their exploring hands and mouths, but the ache between her legs is growing unbearable. She’s never been so turned on from just verbal foreplay and kisses; isn’t actually sure if she’s ever been this turned on, period.
Yelena eventually pulls back to catch her breath, but she doesn’t go far. She dusts featherlight kisses over Kate’s cheeks and chin and jaw, mouth finding its way to Kate’s ear before saying, “Take me to bed.”
Despite the lack of trust in her own legs, Kate doesn’t have to be told twice. She maneuvers them toward the stairs — careful with her steps to avoid any sort of disaster, even if she knows Yelena’s too graceful to allow it — and Kate presses her into the wall as soon as they reach the landing, devouring her with kisses.
“You’re sure?” Kate asks between kisses, fingertips skirting along Yelena’s waistband, just under her shirt.
“I’m sure.” Yelena pulls back just enough to catch Kate’s gaze. Her eyes are dark and dangerous, sending a jolt of heat down Kate’s spine, and Yelena doesn’t break their eye contact as she tugs off her own shirt and drops it to the ground, closing the gap between them once again.
Kate’s hands immediately press into Yelena’s warm skin, grazing over taut muscles and up the ridges of her ribs until she’s cupping her breasts, marveling at the way they fit perfectly in her hands. She brushes a thumb experimentally over one of her nipples and Yelena gasps into her mouth, arching into her hands and quietly pleading for more. Kate drags her mouth away from Yelena’s own, trailing wet, open mouth kisses down her neck as she dips lower.
She stops to suck softly at her clavicle, following the drag of her teeth with her soothing tongue, stopping herself from leaving more than a pink mark that will fade long before morning.
“Off,” Yelena says, breathless and hands twisting in the soft fabric of Kate’s shirt.
Kate jumps back immediately. “Sorry!”
“Why are you— oh!” Yelena laughs, low and deep, and tugs Kate back in by the grip she still has on her shirt. She leans up on her toes and kisses Kate, open-mouthed and teasing. “This off. Not you.”
Kate feels the anxiety immediately fall away and she lets out a single huff of nervous laughter as she lifts her arms and lets Yelena pull her shirt off and over her head.
“I’m sorry, zaika,” Yelena whispers against Kate’s skin as she unhooks her bra and drags the straps down her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with their shirts. She trails her fingers back up, ghosting over Kate’s bare skin until she’s cupping her cheek. “I did not mean to worry you.”
“It’s okay,” Kate mumbles, leaning into Yelena’s touch. Her cheeks are still flush with embarrassment from the immediate overreaction, but then Yelena runs her tongue up the side of her neck, swiftly reigniting the heat that had been coursing through her veins moments before.
“I do appreciate knowing how well you listen,” Yelena says, her lips brushing against the shell of Kate’s ear. “But I can’t wait to have your pretty little mouth on me.”
Yelena’s thumb brushes over Kate’s bottom lip as she speaks, and Kate sucks it into her mouth, teeth grazing the calloused skin. Yelena gasps against her ear and she can feel it in her core — hot and wet and wanting. She has the fleeting thought that she might die right there on the spot before she ever gets to truly taste Yelena, and that would be a goddamn shame. She lets the thought spur her into motion again, pressing Yelena back against the wall and mouth returning to where it was before their brief interruption.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” Kate says as she wraps her lips around one of Yelena’s nipples, teeth grazing softly as she sucks. She cups her other breast with her left hand, squeezing gently, and Yelena winds her fingers in Kate’s hair, nails scraping against her scalp as she arches into her mouth.
She kisses her way across Yelena’s sternum, lavishing her other breast with the same attention as her hand falls to the waistband of her jeans.
“Kate,” Yelena pleads, looking down at her as Kate works the button open with one hand, and if Kate thought the way her name sounded in Yelena’s mouth was sexy before, there are no words for the way it sounds when it’s a desperate whine.
Kate sinks to her knees, not taking her eyes off Yelena as she pushes her jeans down to her ankles. Yelena’s eyes are nearly black, her pupils completely blown, and the flush across her cheeks makes her look even more breathtaking. She steadies Yelena with a hand on her hip as she tugs the jeans away, and then leans in, licking a stripe over Yelena’s underwear that are soaked through, and Yelena moans, hips rocking forward in search of more contact.
“There’s a bed... right... there,” Yelena pants, as Kate runs her tongue over the fabric once more.
“Yeah, but you’re right here,” she says, hooking her thumbs around the elastic of the underwear and dragging them down as well. She drapes one of Yelena’s legs over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around it to keep her steady and pressing hot, sticky kisses up the inside of her thigh, starting at her knee and slowly working her way up. She feels the muscle tense beneath her lips and her teeth sink in gently, sucking a red mark into Yelena’s skin in the shape of her own mouth.
“Fuck.” Yelena’s swear is harsh and raspy, and she drops her head back against the wall with a soft thunk, fingers flexing as she scrambles for something to grip on to. Her fingers find her way to Kate’s hair again when she reaches the apex of her thighs, tongue teasing at the sensitive skin but not making a move beyond that.
Kate drags the tip of her finger through the wet heat she longs to taste, pressing just so as she brushes over her clit, and Yelena’s hips strain toward the contact. It’s an ego boost if she’s ever had one — to have Yelena, normally so calm and composed, spiraling out of control with just kisses and the barest of touches — and Kate intends to take it for all it’s worth.
She brings her wet finger to her lips, sucking it gently, and Yelena honest to god whines, her fingers clutching harder in Kate’s hair, hard enough for Kate’s eyes to slip shut at the pleasant sting.
“Kate.”
It’s a warning, one Kate doesn’t heed, but a warning nonetheless. Instead of giving in to what she knows Yelena wants, her mouth drifts back to where it was before, pressing kisses and running her tongue along the juncture of her thighs.
“Kate.”
This time, Yelena’s hand in her hair makes sure she listens, guiding her just to the right; just where Yelena wants her. Kate murmurs her name, squeezing at her thigh gently and drawing Yelena’s attention to her before leaning in, keeping eye contact as she finally — finally, after months of dreaming about it — tastes her. Her own eyes slip shut, moaning against Yelena as she traces the tip of her tongue over her clit.
“You taste so good,” she pulls back to mumble before she brings her mouth to her clit again, sucking at the sensitive bud, and it’s truly an exercise in restraint to take her time, especially with the way Yelena’s urging her on, arching against her mouth, searching for more contact. Kate brings her free hand up to Yelena’s core, and before she can ask, Yelena is grinding down, Kate’s middle finger slipping inside of her.
She thrusts slowly, working it in sync with the way she sucks and circles her tongue, and Yelena’s rolling hips stutter at the competing sensations. A moan tumbles from her lips and Kate sucks harder, drawing the moan out, and Kate decides this is her favorite sound, committing to doing whatever she can to just keep hearing it. She angles her touch slightly, adding a second finger at the same time she scrapes her teeth over Yelena’s clit, and Yelena’s head drops back against the wall again, the leg over Kate’s shoulder flexing and pulling her closer.
Kate smiles against her and does it again.
“Bed,” Yelena manages, voice rough and needy, and Kate smiles against her as she continues her slow ministrations. “Kate, please.”
Kate slows her thrusts, sliding out of Yelena but not pulling away completely, fingers exploring softly even as she starts to stand, Yelena’s leg sliding from her shoulder.
Yelena pulls her up and into a hungry kiss, licking into Kate’s mouth in a way that makes Kate’s head spin, her hips still rolling against Kate’s touch. Her fingers fumble when Yelena’s mouth dips from her own, working down her neck and across her clavicle.
“I love when you’re on your knees for me,” Yelena pants against her skin in between kisses. “But my legs are not going to hold me up much longer.”
“Yeah?” Kate asks, tilting her head to the side to allow her better access, and she can’t hide the hint of pride in her tone at the admission.
“Do not get cocky,” Yelena admonishes, the bite in her tone belied by her breathlessness and the way her hips jerk against Kate’s fingers when she presses just a little harder against her clit. “It does not look cool.”
Kate laughs and kisses her again, slipping her hand from between Yelena’s legs to grab at the back of her thighs and lift her up. She immediately wraps her legs around Kate’s waist and her center presses against Kate’s bare skin, hot and wet.
“Fuck,” Kate breathes, gripping tighter at her thighs as she walks them to the bed, cautious not to stumble in the few steps it takes to reach it. Intent on finishing what she started, Kate sets Yelena down on the edge of the bed and sinks to her knees, tugging Yelena forward. She drapes both of her legs over her shoulders this time, the height difference of the bed providing the perfect angle.
She kisses and licks her way over Yelena’s thighs once more, mentally cataloging the moans and sighs she gets from different movements. Yelena watches her, hand on her own breast, nipple hardening under her own touch, and Kate feels the heat flare and rise every time she glances up to catch her eye. When Yelena shifts her hips forward, Kate takes the hint and runs her tongue through slick, wet heat at the same time she slides two fingers inside of her, and Yelena falls back on her elbows, swearing under her breath in Russian. (At least, Kate thinks she’s swearing. She doesn’t know enough Russian to tell, but she takes context clues from the tone.)
She feels Yelena’s heels digging into her back, thighs trembling as Kate works her fingers inside of her, and Kate presses her own thighs together, shifting against the seam of her jeans for the tiniest bit of relief from the pressure building between her own legs.
Kate twists her wrist just so and Yelena arches her back, hips rolling to meet Kate’s thrusts and with an ohgodpleasefuckKateright...there she’s coming against Kate’s mouth and fingers. Kate fucks her through it, pace steady even as she feels dangerously close to her own orgasm, and Yelena’s hardly come down from the first wave before a second crashes over her. It’s smaller, less forceful, but it’s undeniably there, and okay, Kate’s never made that happen before. At least not that fast.
When she pulls away, chin and hands slick with Yelena, she can’t help the self-satisfied smirk that spreads across her face.
“I told you not to get cocky,” Yelena says, but it’s hardly a threat with the way she looks spread out on the bed — fucked out and satiated in a way Kate herself doesn’t know if she’s ever experienced. Her own arousal aches distractingly between her legs, but she’s content to wait it out if it means seeing Yelena like this.
“Come on, I think I earned it,” Kate says, grinning as she sits back on her heels, hands resting on Yelena’s knees, still draped over her shoulders.
Yelena hums and props herself up on her elbows so her eye line matches Kate’s, bottom lip drawn between her teeth, and Kate wants to surge forward and kiss her until they can’t breathe.
“You were a very good girl,” she says, a wicked grin curling at the corners of her mouth, and Kate doesn’t bother trying to hide the whine and the way her hips arch forward at the words. “Now come up here and let me thank you properly.”
///
Later — after Kate’s had the best orgasm of her life and she’s made Yelena come for a third time, on top of her face with her thighs bracketed around her head — they lay tangled up in the sheets together, touching lazily. Yelena’s fingers work their way up Kate’s spine and she nudges Kate’s nose with her own before drawing in for a soft, languid kiss.
Kate wants to live in this moment forever — nothing beyond the two of them and the expanse of her king-size mattress — but she’s not naïve enough to imagine they can. Either one of them could be called away at a moment’s notice, bursting the bubble of bliss they’re wrapped up in, and she’s just not sure where that will leave the two of them when it happens. They’ve flirted and teased for months, but never more than that; never more than a few stray comments Kate was certain she was making out to be more than they were. This is the first time they’ve dared to cross the line into something more than friends, and Kate hates that she can’t just enjoy it for what it is, her anxiety instead itching for clarity.
“You think too loud,” Yelena murmurs against Kate’s mouth, dragging the tips of her fingers over Kate’s shoulder and across her clavicle as they kiss. Her voice is rougher than usual, the combination of overuse and exhaustion weighing heavily in her tone.
“Sorry,” Kate says, inching closer, knee slipping between Yelena’s as she does.
“Don’t apologize,” Yelena tells her, pulling back just enough to make eye contact. “What are you thinking about, milaya moya?”
“It’s nothing,” Kate says with a soft smile, not wanting to ruin the moment by making more of it than it is. “Just thinking.”
“That is a very cute wrinkle for nothing,” Yelena says, smoothing the crease between her eyebrows with the tip of her finger and dragging it over the bridge of her nose. “Tell me.”
“I was thinking about tonight,” Kate says, when what she really means is I was thinking about us.
“It was a good night, no?” Yelena asks, and her eyes shine with something Kate doesn’t dare to name, but it makes the embers still burning low in her belly spark to life once again.
Kate nods and Yelena’s lips brush against hers once more.
“I don’t want it to be just tonight,” Kate admits quietly when Yelena pulls back, and once the words are out there, she can’t stop the ramble that follows. “I wasn’t exactly expecting tonight and I mean, if that’s what you want that’s okay! I know we probably should have talked about that before. So, I don’t want yo—”
“Kate.”
Yelena manages to cut her off with just the quiet utterance of her name, reaching up to brush a stray hair from Kate’s face.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Yelena says, cupping her face softly. “You’re very cute when you’re nervous.”
“I like you,” Kate says, leaning into the touch. She twists, pressing a brief kiss to Yelena’s palm before looking back at her and smiling. “For more than just the amazing orgasms, which... holy shit, by the way.”
Yelena laughs, soft and sweet. “I do not do that sort of thing,” Yelena says, and then quickly clarifies, adding, “Casual sex.”
Kate feels relief flood through her at the admission, but she can also see there’s more Yelena wants to say, so she wills herself to stay quiet for once, biting at the inside of her cheek lest she jump to conclusions before she’s done explaining herself.
“For a while, I thought maybe I did not enjoy sex at all. I was too busy with other things to think much about it, but if I saw it in a movie or someone was talking about it, the idea of it did not hold my interest. But... it’s different with you, Kate Bishop. As we got close, I would find myself thinking about it sometimes,” Yelena says, trailing her fingers up Kate’s arm and then back down, eyes tracking her own movements. “I’ve been thinking about what we did tonight for a while now.” She pauses, looking back up at Kate as she says, “I’ve thought about it many times.”
“Yeah?” Kate asks. The lingering bit of arousal shifts from a tiny hum to a more noticeable throb at the confession and she drags her hand down Yelena’s side, squeezing gently at her hip. She can’t stop the images conjured up by the implications of her words: Yelena in bed, hand between her legs while she thinks about Kate going down on her, Kate’s name on her lips when she comes.
“Yes,” Yelena says. “You are a very attractive person, Kate Bishop.”
Kate grins at that, and Yelena rolls her eyes.
“What did I tell you about being cocky?” She chastises, but moves closer anyway, pressed against Kate’s thigh that is slotted between her own, wet and warm.
“You keep saying it doesn’t look cool,” Kate says, thumb brushing over Yelena’s hip bone, holding her in place as she flexes her thigh, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. “But I don’t think you mean that.”
Yelena rolls her eyes again, and says, “I have no idea why I like you.” She rolls her hips, more insistent this time, pressing at Kate’s lower back to draw her closer. “You’re incorrigible.”
“But you do like me,” Kate says, and it comes out more of a teasing statement than the question it feels like in her own mind. Her fingers drop from Yelena’s hip, working in between their bodies until she can slide them inside Yelena, the heel of her palm pressing against Yelena’s clit in a way that makes her shudder and gasp.
“Shut up,” she says, dropping her forehead to Kate’s shoulder, teeth scraping at the soft skin where her neck and shoulder meet.
Kate smiles and takes it as a yes.