BW: F Chapter 9

Avengers Tower
New York City

The soul mate doesn’t know why Hydra wanted Blonsky, although it’s safe to assume that they want to weaponize the Abomination. Hydra’s supposed to be gone, but nobody really believes that. At the end of the day, no matter how hard people work, there will always be more Nazis. History shows this over and over.

The soul mate’s story corroborates Nat’s observations in the house. The ninja had either been left behind to secure the last soul mate or to erase clues about Hydra’s presence. Either way, they’d been thwarted in that, at least.

Now, Fury has dedicated some SHIELD resources to search for leads.

BLACK WIDOW

The hit that Nat took to her crotch almost cost her the fight, but the penis is still in good working order. It bulges in her hand, spewing shiny streams of semen. Her belly, breasts, and even her throat sparkle from previous loads, all catching the light of the New York skyline coming through her window. She keeps pulling, adding to the mess with a hiss and a groan.

“Ahh…” She relaxes, naked on her bed, still slowly massaging her shaft. Unlike all the men she’s ever known, these orgasms only tire her out for a moment. They don’t put her straight to sleep. Unfortunately.

Nat’s finely tuned senses were developed for tactical purposes, but they can also be an inconvenience. Tony purposefully put her in this room and he purposefully made the wall thin, and she can hear everything. She knows that Wanda is on her back. She knows that Wanda is close to finishing, but not as close as she’s making it sound with her yelps as Vis fucks her. Nat can even tell from the bedsprings and rhythm that Vis must have Wanda’s legs spread wide. He’s probably holding her ankles. As for the imagery of Wanda’s boobs bouncing and her parted lips… that’s all in Nat’s imagination.

Her senses made this arrangement an annoyance in the past. There was nothing about a bright red robot fucking a witch that Nat found erotic.

Things are different now.

Nat breathes hard. She looks at her sticky hand, then at her torso, where gleaming lines indicate where the cum has rolled down her breasts, pooled in her navel, and begun to dry. She needs to clean up anyway. Wanda and Vis will be finished by the time she gets out of the shower.

Nat sorely rolls out of bed and walks into her bathroom, where she cleans up with her usual clinical efficiency. She won’t be caught off-guard by the penis in combat again. She emerges, towels off, and goes to the dresser for a pair of plain, black, cotton panties. She pulls those on; it’s blessedly quiet now, so she’ll be able to sleep without an erection distracting her.

She tucks the soft little cock away and turns back to her bed to get a faceful of rainbow light. Blinded, she stumbles back, blinking away stars as she takes in the woman who has just appeared in her room.

“Oh. Tits,” Valkyrie says, pausing to take a drink from the tankard in her hand. “Wasn’t expecting that.”