To Love A Monster 1

Hi everyone! This is my second time writing erotic fiction. My first piece, "Mourning," started as a dare from a friend. But narcissist that I am, I needed more feedback, so posted it up here to Literotica. Based on the fairly positive response "Mourning" received, I decided to keep going and try another pairing I always wanted to see explored from the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

This piece occurs in the middle of "Avengers: Age of Ultron," while the team is hiding out on Hawkeye's farm. Enjoy!

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Natasha sat on the bed, wearing only a light gray terrycloth robe, waiting for the door to the bathroom to open. Visions of her time in the Red Room, brought on by that Sarkovian girl's powers, still appeared, unbidden, in her head. It had been nearly twenty years, but she could still feel the surgical instruments, cutting away inside her. Natasha gave a small shudder, and wished that she still had tears left to shed over what she had lost that day.

Finally, she heard the shower shut off, but it was several more minutes before Bruce emerged. His face was freshly shaven, and his dark curly hair was still damp. A fresh pair of trousers covered the bottom half of his body, but he was still bare-chested, the dark hair thick on his chest. Natasha longed to close the distance between them, and run her fingers through that hair. He didn't have the same powerful musculature that the other men on the team did, but he was still in very good shape for a man in his 40's.

"I didn't realize you were waiting," he said, sheepishly.

"I would've joined you, but, uh, it didn't seem like the right time," Nat replied, biting her lip. Even she was no longer sure if she was actually being shy, or if it was simply her instincts as a spy kicking in again, causing her to act coy. "Where does the line between playing my part and me really end?" she thought to herself, not for the first time.

"They used up all the hot water," Bruce said, choosing to ignore the innuendo.

"I should've joined you," Nat answered, with the slightest hint of seduction in her voice.

"Missed our window," he said with a slight chuckle.

Natasha looked at him, studying his face to see his response. "Did we?" she asked, no longer playing any games.

Bruce looked down, then turned away as he started to put his wet towel in a hamper.

"The world just saw the Hulk, the real Hulk, for the first time." Bruce pulled on a dark plaid flannel shirt, still avoiding her gaze. "You know I have to leave."

"You assume that I have to stay?" Natasha asked him as she stepped closer to him. "I had this, uhm, dream. The kind that seems normal at the time, but when you wake...?"

Bruce regarded her with curiosity in his eyes. "What did you dream?"

"That I was an Avenger," Natasha nodded as she spoke. "That I was anything more than the assassin that they made me." They were close enough that Natasha could now smell the scent of shaving cream on him, mixing with the smell of shampoo, soap, and his own natural smell. Bruce looked down for a moment before he spoke.

"I think you're being hard on yourself." He took another half step towards her.

"Here I was hoping that was your job," Natasha said with a seductive smile, closing the distance between them and grabbing the open edges of his shirt. They were easily close enough to kiss, and as she looked up into his dark brown eyes, Natasha desperately hoped he would finally find the courage to do so.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked with sadness in his voice.

"I'm running with it," she said, keeping her eyes locked on his. "With you." She brought her hand up to caress his cheek, her fingers just past his ear and touching the wet curls on his head, leaning in to him, the feel of his chest against hers, separated only by his opened shirt and the light robe she wore. Bruce brought his hand up to hers, and intertwined their fingers. "If running is the plan," Natasha continued, "as far as you want."

"Are you out of your mind?" Bruce demanded, his voice soft and choked with pain. The look of sorrow and despair on his face was heart-breaking. He released her hand and stepped away from her. He crossed further away, walking to the center of the room, briefly putting his head in his hand. Looking down, not looking at her, he continued. "I want you to understand, uhm, Natasha, where can I go?" He turned back to face her again, the vulnerability of the question visible in his face, in the slump of his shoulders, everywhere. "Where in the world am I not a threat?"

"You're not a threat to me," she answered, stepping in towards him once more.

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked. "Even if I didn't just... There's no future with me. I can't ever... I can't have this." Bruce looked around the room, taking in the toys and knickknacks that showed the life of the two children who lived in this quaint little farmhouse. Natasha could easily see that he was referring to not just the specifics, but everything about a normal life - perhaps especially having children. She recalled back to their first meeting, in that tiny town, and how he had sadly pushed on the cradle in the abandoned cottage she had lured him to as he said "I don't every time get what I want."

"Kids," Bruce continued. "Do the math. I physically can't."

"Neither can I," Natasha answered him.

Bruce looked at her with a question on his face, prompting her to continue.

"In the Red Room where I was trained... Where I was raised, um, they have a graduation ceremony." She swallowed as emotion - genuine emotion - began to well up in her. "They sterilize you." Natasha shrugged. "It's efficient," she said, nodding. "One less thing to worry about. The one thing that might matter more than a mission. Makes everything easier. Even killing." Bruce swallowed, and Natasha could see him struggling to find the right words. But she knew that there were no words he could possibly say. "You still think you're the only monster on the team?"

Bruce paused for a moment, still absorbing her revelation. "So we disappear?"

Natasha bit her lip as she slowly moved towards him. "Maybe? Once Ultron is defeated... they don't need us. Clint can do everything I can do. Thor is almost as strong as the Big Guy. We've saved the world, we've earned the right to quietly vanish, haven't we?"

Holding up his hands, and preventing her from getting any closer, Bruce responded, "But will they let us? The Hulk... as powerful as he is, and after what he did, do you think they'll just let us go?"

Natasha took his hands in hers. "What choice do they have? Like I said at the party, the guy I like, he's strong enough to win any fight. He just doesn't want to. This isn't going to be like it was before. You have friends now. Steve, Tony, even Nick. If we ask... no. If we tell them that we're leaving, and what we want is to be left alone, they'll give us cover. Keep other interested parties from finding us. Convince them that it's not worth finding us."

"But where do we go?" Bruce pleaded. "Where, Nat?"

"Anywhere you want, Bruce. Do you want to go back to disappear in a small village in Africa, or the Middle East, or South Asia? We'll do that. Do you want to find a small town in the Midwest, start new lives with new identities, maybe become a high school science teacher? We can do that too."

"And the Hulk?"

Natasha brought his hands behind her back, let go, and wrapped her own around his waist, stepping in close again. Her robe had shifted slightly, opening just a bit more, and while she was still a far cry from bare-chested, there was enough skin exposed that she could feel his chest hair tickling the top curve of her breasts. Being so close to him, and finally breaking through some of his barriers towards something that approached intimacy sent a slight flush of arousal through her, and her nipples hardened under her robe, digging through the terrycloth and poking gently into his mostly-bared chest.

"What about him? No. Not him. You. The Hulk is a part of you, Bruce. He isn't some other creature who lives inside of you. He's you. That's why he won't hurt me, why I can get through to him. Because you're still in there. You're always in there. You have so much pain, so much rage, so much hurt inside, and you hold it all in. When you change, it's the only time you can release that pain. But it's still you. And we can keep working on your control. You don't have to be afraid any more. I'll be there with you."

"Natasha... what if you're wrong? What if..."

Natasha would never know what Bruce's next question might have been, because she cut him off with a kiss, pressing her full, bow-shaped lips against his, and taking advantage of the surprise and that he had been speaking to slip her tongue quickly, briefly, past his teeth.

She felt him tense up, and his hands moved from resting behind her back to her waist, taking hold of her. For a moment, she worried he was about to push her away, but instead he drew her in tighter, and returned the kiss with as much passion as she had initiated it with. Natasha let out a light moan into his mouth as her full breasts flattened against his chest, and she wrapped her hands around his back, never wanting to let go of him.

Bruce's kisses only continued to get more and more intense, moving from open mouthed kisses with their tongues dueling back and forth, to long kisses which he would break and then move back in for more, almost as if he were trying to consume her.

Her head spun with the intensity of the moment. She was no blushing virgin. Her first sexual encounters had been in the Red Room, as they taught them how to seduce, entrap, and interrogate their sexual partners, sometimes with just whispers, smiles, and promises, and sometimes with indulging in whatever desires would give them the most leverage over their targets. As a spy and assassin, she had been willing, whenever needed, to use her body's gifts not just to fight and kill, but also to ensnare.

Nor had she been shy about using her body when not on assignment. The life she led, and the life that most of her friends led, was one that was full of adrenaline and risk. You never knew which mission might be your last, and the conclusion of most missions left their bodies flush with excitement and hormones. Plenty of her former partners had been the recipient of a fast and frenzied fuck session after a debriefing.

But all of these encounters had been without real intimacy. Whether it was with a target or a partner, there was no emotional connection being made. That would be counter-productive in some cases, and far too risky in others. So, Natasha knew what made her feel good when it came to sex, and was more than skilled enough to give her partner pleasure, but this rush of feeling that came from embracing Bruce and kissing him was something new for her.

As they continued to kiss, Natasha gently pushed Bruce towards the bed in the room. She knew that the others were in the house. She knew that they could be interrupted at any time. But she wasn't going to take a chance at "missing their window" again. Bruce was finally giving in to her, and she was going to seize the opportunity.

When the mattress of the bed bumped against the back of his legs, Bruce turned her around with a low growl. Natasha allowed herself to be lowered, relaxing her weight into Bruce's strong arms.

"Wait... strong...?" she thought.

As Bruce growled again, her eyes opened and she looked at the man she was kissing. Flecks of green were in his wild-looking eyes. He dropped her to the bed, and her robe came open as the tie closure loosened. The soft grey fabric fell away to either side of her chest, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze. Natasha suddenly felt vulnerable, not from her partial nudity, but from seeing the slight green tinge that was beginning to appear on Bruce's chest.

Bruce, for he was still mostly Bruce Banner, pulled his shirt off. It was fortunate he had never buttoned it closed, or no doubt it would have become yet another garment destroyed by his transformation. He fell forward, pinning Natasha to the bed, as he resumed hungrily kissing her, his mouth moving from hers down the curve of her throat, and towards her chest.

"Wait... Bruce... please," Natasha pleaded, grabbing him by the shoulders with a gentle grip, trying not to startle him, but making her hold firm enough to impede his progress. For a moment it seemed he would ignore her request, but then he paused, and moved back up so he was face to face with her.

Natasha placed her hand on his cheek, putting just enough pressure on his jaw so he could tell she didn't want him to kiss her just yet, and looked into Bruce's eyes. The moment seemed to hang on forever, but then she felt his breathing slow down, and the green flecks in his eyes receded back into brown.

"Natasha, I'm sorry," Bruce said. "This. This is why we can never..."

"Stop," she silenced him, leaning up to kiss him again - a brief open-mouthed kiss that she broke after a few moments. "I know you can control it. We just need to take it slow." She kissed him again, acutely aware of the feel of flesh on flesh as their chests pressed together. Bruce wasn't the physically perfect specimen that Steve or Thor was, nor did he put the time into exercise that Tony or Clint did. There was a thin layer of body fat and the slightest bit of love handles at his side, but she could still feel the muscles in his chest against her. His chest hair now lightly tickled all of her chest, exciting her nipples and coaxing them into partial erection, and she could feel the beat of his heart through it all. Strong and steady, but quickening as they kissed. "Slower," she breathed into his ear, breaking the kiss.

Gently, Natasha pressed up against his chest, and Bruce allowed her to move him off her, and to be rolled to her side, so he was laying on his back. She pulled him up so that he was in the center of the bed, and then straddled his waist, her robe completely open now, except for the useless cloth belt that was still loosely knotted around her hips.

He looked up at her with hungry but questioning eyes, but his desire was tainted by the obvious fear he felt. Natasha knew that she had to take control of the situation before he either lost control and Hulked out for real, or his fear made him run away from her and they missed their window for good. "Do you like what you see?" she asked him playfully, putting her hands on his chest, and lightly digging in with her nails.

The lump in his pants was already more than answer enough, and Natasha knew that there were few straight men (and a fair number of women) who could look at her naked form without wanting her. Her breasts were not as large as some, although still a respectable C-cup, but her intensive exercise regime meant that the muscles under them were firm and kept them high on her chest. Her nipples were tiny pebbles when aroused, with barely any visible areola. Her body had plenty of feminine curve to it, but little other body fat, which meant she was lean through the legs and hips, but had enough of an ass to entice most men. She kept herself nearly hairless below the neck, having used laser hair removal for most of her body years ago, but maintaining a small triangular patch of fiery red hair that she kept trimmed close just above her pussy. Her skin was pale, but not flawless. Numerous scars from years of espionage created a visual story of pain across her skin. A bullet wound in above her belly button, a knife scar above her left shoulder, small acid burns across her back. Her naturally pale skin meant that the scar tissue was barely visible, but she was always aware of it whenever she examined her nude body.

Bruce nodded, and she smiled, swiveling her hips, and grinding her naked pussy into his jean-covered crotch.

"So, we want to keep you excited, but not too excited, huh? Sounds like a fun challenge."

She undid the belt at her waist, holding the cloth belt in her hand and shrugging the robe off her shoulders. Bruce reached up to caress a breast, when she caught his hand, and pulled it above his head to the frame of the bed.

"Natasha?" he asked.

"You just lay back," she said as she expertly lashed his wrist to the bedpost. She allowed one breast to brush against his face, arching her back and pulling it just out of reach as he tried to open his mouth and take her nipple inside. With a gentle laugh, Natasha took his other hand and using the other end of the belt to repeat the action with his other hand.

"You realize that those restraints aren't going to mean anything to him, right?"

"No, they won't do anything to stop you if you want to break them when you transform," Natasha answered, laying back down to really enjoy the sensation of being completely bare chested against him. She caressed his cheek, lightly tracing patterns with the tips of her fingernails. "They aren't there to stop you. They're there to remind you to stop yourself. I want you to lay back, and relax, and let me take care of you."

She sat up, shimmying slightly to make her tits gently bounce, as she moved back to straddle his thighs. Deft, agile fingers undid his belt buckle, and she traced the outline of his cock through his jeans with one outstretched finger. "Is that for me?" she asked with a grin as she undid the button and unzipped his pants, revealing the plum-colored boxer shorts he wore underneath.

Bruce nodded as Natasha's hands moved inside his pants, her fingers dancing up and down the length of his shaft with light touches that did everything to enflame his desire, while providing none of the satisfaction that his body craved.

A soft, low groan escaped Bruce's lips as Natasha played with her newfound toy. She alternated light touches with longer strokes up the length of his cock with an outstretched hand. Only scant moments of this delicious torture were required before she was rewarded by feeling his lubricating fluids escape from the head of his cock, creating a damp spot on his boxers.

"Hmmm, it looks like we'll have a mess on our hands if we keep this up," she teased, "Or at least, on *my* hands... Maybe I should stop? I mean, you did just get out of the shower..." Bruce groaned again, as Natasha laughed. "I'm joking, of course. I don't have any plans to stop anytime soon. But we probably should get these pants off of you."

Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, Natasha slid them down his legs. They were good legs, well-muscled through the thighs and calves with little jiggle. The hair on his chest left her expecting him to be just as hair-covered below the belt, and she wasn't disappointed by what she saw as she uncovered his legs. His body hair was black, and thick, although not so thick as to hide the smooth skin beneath. He had not yet put socks and shoes on from his shower, which let her easily slip the jeans around his ankles and off his feet.

Staying near his feet, she ran a hand up the length of his leg beginning on the inside of the leg, and moving up to the bottom of his boxer shorts. Her fingers slipped under the open leg of the loose underwear, lightly scratching his inner thigh, moving almost up to where she thought his balls would be, making him gasp with anticipation, and then sliding her hand back down along the outside, an act that was met with a disappointed sigh.

"Don't be so impatient," she chided him. "Maybe they didn't leave us any hot water, but there's also no one else waiting for the shower, so I intend to take my time with this. With you."

She sat back for a moment, examining his body with her eyes, even as she knew he was devouring her with his. Placing a hand on his chest, she tangled her fingers in his chest hair, resting her palm over his heart. "You don't have any scars... anywhere. Careful life?"

Bruce shook his head. "Hardly. The first time I changed into the other guy... the Hulk... when I came back to myself, all of my scars were gone. Whatever happened that made me change, when I changed back, every little scar, every mark, was gone. I had my appendix out when I was seven. Had that scar my entire life, until that first change."