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The SHIELD medical facility's private examination room was clinically bright and sterile, designed to leave nowhere for secrets to hide. Natasha had arrived at 0755, precisely five minutes before her scheduled evaluation, looking outwardly composed in her standard-issue SHIELD uniform despite having spent most of the night devising and discarding various escape plans.
I could fake a mission alert. Or trigger the fire alarm. Or possibly fake my own death, she had considered, each option more desperate than the last. In the end, she'd decided on a different approach – controlled revelation. If she couldn't avoid discovery entirely, she would at least manage how and to whom her condition was revealed.
Dr. Chen was preparing equipment when she entered, with two medical technicians arranging various scanning devices. And there, reviewing documentation with her back to the door, was Deputy Director Maria Hill.
"Agent Romanoff," Hill said without turning around, her hearing apparently as sharp as her intellect. "Right on time."
"I live to follow orders," Natasha replied dryly, taking a position near the examination table but not sitting on it. Her posture was carefully casual, betraying none of the tension coiling through her body.
Hill finally turned, her blue eyes sweeping over Natasha in a professional assessment that nonetheless felt more personal than it had in previous interactions. "Dr. Chen will be conducting a comprehensive evaluation. I expect your full cooperation."
"Of course," Natasha nodded, her expression giving away nothing. "Though I still maintain this is unnecessary."
Dr. Chen approached with a tablet. "We'll start with standard vitals and blood work, then move to advanced scanning. I've prepared a specialized protocol based on the compounds you were potentially exposed to in Belarus."
The initial examination proceeded without incident. Blood pressure slightly elevated, but that could be attributed to the stress of the situation. Temperature reading caused the first moment of tension – 100.3°F/37.9°C.
"You're running a low-grade fever," Dr. Chen observed, frowning at his instruments.
"As I mentioned to Deputy Director Hill yesterday," Natasha replied smoothly.
"Hmm." The doctor made a note. "And you didn't think to report this symptom?"
"I've had worse paper cuts," Natasha shrugged. "The Red Room didn't exactly encourage medical complaints for minor discomforts."
The blood draw went smoothly, samples whisked away for immediate analysis. So far, nothing had required her to disrobe beyond rolling up her sleeve. But that momentary reprieve ended when Dr. Chen finished reviewing his preliminary readings.
"I'd like to proceed with a full-body scan," he announced. "Please change into the examination gown. You can use the privacy screen in the corner."
Natasha's heart rate kicked up a notch, though her expression remained impassive. "Is that really necessary? The exposure was limited to my arm and hand."
"Protocol for unknown chemical agents requires complete evaluation," Hill interjected from where she stood reviewing data. "You know this, Romanoff."
Of course I know this. I was hoping you might conveniently forget it.
"The gown opens in the back," Dr. Chen added helpfully, holding out the thin blue garment.
Natasha accepted it with a slight nod, mind racing through options as she moved behind the privacy screen. This was the moment of decision – comply and reveal her condition, or create some kind of diversion and flee, effectively ending her SHIELD career.
As she slowly unbuttoned her uniform top, she heard Hill's voice addressing the medical team.
"Dr. Chen, a moment please." The Deputy Director's tone was all business. "I've just received updated information about Agent Romanoff's exposure. There may be classified elements involved."
Through a small gap in the privacy screen, Natasha watched as Hill showed something on her tablet to the doctor, whose eyebrows rose in apparent surprise.
"I see," he said, glancing toward the privacy screen where Natasha stood partially undressed. "That does change the protocol."
"I'll need you and your team to step out," Hill continued. "This portion of the examination falls under Level 8 clearance."
The medical technicians exchanged confused looks, but began gathering their equipment without question. Dr. Chen appeared more hesitant.
"Deputy Director, with all due respect, if there are unusual medical concerns—"
"Your concerns are noted, Doctor," Hill cut him off crisply. "But this comes directly from Director Fury. I'll conduct this portion of the examination personally and consult you if medical expertise is required."
What is she doing? Natasha wondered, genuinely surprised by this turn of events. As far as she knew, there was no updated information, no directive from Fury. Hill was creating a cover story on the fly.
After a few more moments of professional back-and-forth, the medical team reluctantly filed out of the examination room. The door closed with a definitive click, leaving Natasha and Maria alone in sudden silence.
"You can come out now, Romanoff," Hill called, her voice echoing slightly in the empty room.
Natasha stepped out from behind the privacy screen, still fully dressed except for her partially unbuttoned uniform top. Her expression was carefully neutral, revealing nothing of her confusion or relief.
"That was an interesting play, Deputy Director," she observed coolly. "I wasn't aware Fury had issued new directives regarding my case."
"He hasn't," Hill replied bluntly, crossing her arms. "Now, want to tell me what you're really hiding? Because we both know it's not a fever or a bruised tailbone."
Natasha considered her options. Hill had just lied to a SHIELD medical team and cleared the room, potentially compromising her own professional standing. That wasn't the action of someone looking to expose or exploit a compromised agent.
"It's... complicated," Natasha finally said, meeting Hill's gaze directly.
"I excel at complicated," Maria countered. "And I just bought you approximately twenty minutes before Dr. Chen starts wondering why I'm conducting a medical examination without medical training."
This is it. Decision time.
"What I'm about to show you doesn't leave this room," Natasha said, her voice dropping to ensure it wouldn't carry beyond the walls. "Not to Fury, not to medical, not to anyone. Agreed?"
Hill studied her face for a long moment, clearly weighing the professional and ethical implications. "That depends on whether it poses a threat to SHIELD or to you. But I'll withhold judgment until I have all the facts."
It was as good an assurance as she was likely to get. With a deep breath, Natasha unbuttoned the rest of her uniform top and then, after a moment's hesitation, unfastened her tactical pants. She kept her eyes locked on Hill's face as she pushed the pants down to mid-thigh, revealing the compression shorts beneath and the unmistakable bulge they contained.
Maria's expression remained professionally neutral, though her eyes widened slightly. "I'm going to need more context than this, Romanoff."
"The Hydra serum did more than just splash on me," Natasha explained, her voice steady despite the vulnerability of her position. "Some entered my bloodstream through a cut. Seven days later, I woke up with... an addition."
Understanding dawned on Hill's face. "An addition," she repeated carefully. "You mean..."
"I mean exactly what you think," Natasha confirmed, and then, deciding that complete clarity was necessary, she pulled down the compression shorts just enough to reveal her new anatomy in its flaccid state, approximately five inches long, resting above her female genitalia.
Maria's professional mask slipped completely for perhaps the first time since Natasha had known her. Her jaw actually dropped, eyes widening in genuine shock as she took an involuntary step backward.
"That's... that's not possible," she breathed, scientific disbelief warring with the visual evidence before her.
"And yet, here we are," Natasha replied dryly, allowing a hint of her own initial shock to show. "The Chimera Protocol appears to have been more successful than Hydra realized."
Hill's training reasserted itself quickly, her expression shifting from shock to analytical curiosity. She approached cautiously, eyes narrowed in scientific assessment rather than judgment.
"You've maintained your original anatomy as well?" she asked, her tone shifting to that of a field commander assessing a tactical situation.
"Da (Yes)," Natasha confirmed. "Fully intact, apparently functional, with this... addition... positioned above it."
"And it's fully formed? Functional?" Maria asked, her professional curiosity evident despite her attempt to maintain clinical detachment.
"As far as I can tell," Natasha replied, feeling oddly relieved to finally discuss her condition with someone. "It responds to... stimuli. I haven't exactly conducted extensive testing."
A hint of color touched Hill's cheeks at that, but she pressed on with typical thoroughness. "Any other physiological changes? The elevated temperature, for instance?"
"My right palm seems unusually warm," Natasha acknowledged, pulling her shorts back up and extending her hand. "And I've experienced increased sensitivity to scents, tastes. Changes in... attractions."
Maria took her outstretched hand, fingers wrapping around Natasha's palm. The contact sent a peculiar tingling sensation up Natasha's arm, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn she felt something like a spark between their skin.
"It's significantly warmer than it should be," Hill confirmed, her brow furrowing in concentration. "And you mentioned changes in attractions?"
Natasha found herself suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, of the subtle floral notes in Maria's shampoo, of the precise curve of her lips as she spoke. She withdrew her hand casually.
"Enhanced interest in female forms," she admitted with clinical precision. "Not exclusive – I've always appreciated both – but more... pronounced now."
Like how I'm currently noticing exactly how well that uniform fits you, she added mentally.
Hill processed this information with remarkable composure, though Natasha detected a slight increase in her breathing rate. Interesting.
"This can't go in your official file," Maria finally said, moving to the computer terminal and typing rapidly. "The implications would be... extensive."
"I'd be pulled from field duty," Natasha agreed. "Subjected to endless tests, possibly quarantined. My operational value would be compromised."
"Not to mention the personal invasion," Hill added, surprising Natasha with the consideration. "You'd become a laboratory curiosity rather than an agent."
"So what do you suggest?" Natasha asked, refastening her pants while watching Hill's methodical typing.
"I'm creating a restricted medical protocol," Maria explained. "Official records will show we completed standard procedures and found minor anomalies consistent with healing from serum exposure. Nothing alarming, nothing requiring further investigation."
"And unofficially?"
Hill turned from the computer, her expression serious but with something else beneath it – concern, perhaps even compassion. It was an unexpected look on the typically stoic deputy director's face.
"Unofficially, I'll monitor your condition personally. Regular private check-ins, off the books. We'll track any changes or developments without involving the full medical team."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "That's putting your career at risk, Hill."
"Maria," she corrected absently, focused on finalizing the falsified records. "And yes, I'm aware of the professional implications. But you're too valuable an asset to lose to a laboratory, and too important an agent to compromise with bureaucracy."
The sentiment seemed genuine, making Natasha reassess her understanding of Deputy Director Hill. Perhaps there was more warmth beneath that efficient exterior than she'd previously credited.
"Thank you... Maria," she said, the use of the first name feeling strangely intimate in the clinical setting.
Maria completed her work and turned back to Natasha, her composure fully restored. "We have approximately seven minutes before Dr. Chen returns. I've logged that you're experiencing minor metabolic changes consistent with healing from chemical exposure. Nothing serious, nothing permanent. You're cleared for field duty with weekly monitoring."
"And these private check-ins?" Natasha asked, buttoning her uniform top.
"My apartment," Maria decided after brief consideration. "Saturday evenings. Secure, private, no SHIELD surveillance. We'll document changes, run basic tests, and keep this contained until we understand exactly what's happening with your physiology."
Natasha nodded, appreciating the efficiency of the plan. "And if there are further changes?"
"Then we'll deal with them," Maria said simply. "One step at a time."
As they prepared for the medical team's return, Natasha caught Maria glancing at her with an expression that wasn't entirely professional curiosity. Perhaps she wasn't the only one experiencing changes in attraction.
This could get complicated, she thought. But complicated had always been her specialty.
Three Days Later
Saturday evening arrived with unexpected anticipation. Natasha found herself checking the address Maria had discreetly slipped her for the third time as she approached the nondescript brownstone in a quiet Brooklyn neighborhood. The building was tasteful but unremarkable – exactly the kind of place a high-ranking SHIELD official would choose to remain anonymous.
Fourth floor, apartment 4C, Natasha confirmed, scanning the surroundings with professional habit. No obvious surveillance, good sightlines, multiple exit routes. Hill had chosen well.
She wore civilian clothes – fitted jeans that accommodated her new anatomy with the help of specially modified underwear, a deep green V-neck sweater that complemented her eyes while subtly highlighting her generous curves, and a leather jacket. Casual but elegant, revealing nothing of her inner tension.
Before she could knock, the door opened to reveal Maria Hill in perhaps the most disarming sight Natasha had witnessed in her career – the deputy director in jeans and a simple blue button-down shirt, feet bare, hair loose around her shoulders.
"Your situational awareness is showing," Natasha commented with a slight smile. "Most people wait for the knock."
"Most people don't have a former KGB assassin arriving for a house call," Maria countered, stepping aside to let her in. "I have security measures."
The apartment was surprisingly warm in its aesthetics – modern but comfortable, with actual personal touches rather than the sterile efficiency Natasha might have expected. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with an eclectic mix of military history, science fiction, and what appeared to be classic literature. A worn leather couch faced large windows overlooking the neighborhood, and a modest kitchen opened off the main living space.
"Not what I expected," Natasha observed, taking in the details.
"What did you expect? Gun racks and SHIELD protocols taped to the walls?" Maria closed the door, engaging what sounded like several sophisticated electronic locks.
"Something less... lived in," Natasha admitted, catching sight of a half-finished mug of tea and an actual dog-eared paperback on the coffee table. "I assumed your apartment would reflect your office. All business."
"We all have different sides, Romanoff," Maria said, moving toward what appeared to be a converted dining room. "Even deputy directors."
The dining room had been transformed into a makeshift medical space. A professional examination table stood where a dining table should have been, alongside a cart containing medical equipment, a laptop, and various measuring devices.
So much for a casual evening, Natasha thought, eyeing the setup.
"I thought it best to be thorough," Maria explained, following her gaze. "SHIELD medical supplies sign themselves out when the right codes are entered."
"Convenient," Natasha nodded, appreciating the preparation while feeling a twinge of apprehension. The clinical setting brought back the reality of her situation.
"We'll start with basics," Maria said, slipping into her professional demeanor as she picked up a digital thermometer. "Temperature, blood pressure, general assessment. Then we can address the... specific changes."
Natasha took a seat on the examination table, the paper covering crinkling beneath her. "You missed your calling as a doctor, Hill."
"Maria," she corrected again. "And I considered it, actually. Before the military recruited me."
This personal revelation surprised Natasha. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Maria replied simply, placing the thermometer against Natasha's temple. It beeped after a moment. "100.1°F/37.8°C. Still elevated but consistent with your readings at SHIELD."
The standard examination proceeded efficiently – blood pressure slightly elevated, pulse strong, reflexes normal. Maria's touch was clinical but gentle as she checked Natasha's lymph nodes and examined her eyes.
"Your right hand," Maria said, holding out her own. "Let's check the temperature differential."
Natasha placed her palm in Maria's, that same tingling sensation returning at the contact. Maria's brow furrowed in concentration as she measured with a specialized thermometer.
"102.4°F/39.1°C in just your right palm," she noted. "The localized increase is puzzling. Any sensations associated with it? Pain, numbness?"
"Not pain," Natasha considered. "Sometimes a tingling, like static electricity. It's stronger when..."
She hesitated, suddenly conscious of the intimacy of what she was about to say.
"When?" Maria prompted, still holding Natasha's hand, her blue eyes direct and curious.
"When I'm experiencing strong emotions," Natasha admitted. "Or physical responses."
Understanding dawned on Maria's face, but she maintained her professional composure. "Interesting. The serum may have affected your autonomic nervous system. We should monitor for any correlation between emotional states and temperature fluctuations."
She released Natasha's hand and made some notes on her laptop before turning back with a more serious expression.
"Now for the primary physiological change," she said, her clinical tone not quite masking her discomfort. "I need to document its... dimensions and appearance for our baseline assessment."
Natasha had prepared herself for this moment, but it still felt strangely vulnerable. In her career, she'd used her body as a weapon, a tool, a disguise – but always on her terms, always with complete understanding of its capabilities and responses. This new anatomy remained unpredictable, outside her complete control.
"Of course," she replied with professional detachment, standing and unfastening her jeans. "For science."
For science. As if this isn't the strangest medical examination in history.
Maria cleared her throat softly. "Just... whenever you're ready."
Natasha slid her jeans down to her thighs, revealing the specially designed underwear she'd created – a modified compression garment that contained her new appendage while accommodating her original anatomy.
"Practical solution," Maria observed, her eyes clinical but curious.
"Necessity breeds innovation," Natasha replied with a slight shrug. Then, with casualness that belied her inner tension, she lowered the underwear to reveal her new anatomy in its flaccid state.
Maria's scientific demeanor held as she took measurements with a medical caliper, noting the dimensions on her laptop.
"Approximately five inches in its non-aroused state," she observed. "Appears fully formed, anatomically correct. The positioning above your original genitalia is unprecedented in medical literature."
"I'd hope so," Natasha said dryly. "Otherwise I'd have to question SHIELD's medical database."
That drew a small smile from Maria, the first crack in her professional facade. "Fair point. Have you experienced any pain or discomfort since the transformation?"
"Initial formation was excruciating," Natasha recalled, the memory still vivid. "Since then, mostly just sensitivity and occasional... inconvenient timing of responses."
Maria nodded, typing notes. "And have you tested its... functionality?"
"Not fully," Natasha admitted. "Basic responses, yes. Complete function, no."
"I see." Maria seemed to choose her next words carefully. "And your original anatomy – still functional? Sensitive?"
"Da (Yes)," Natasha confirmed. "Everything works as before, with perhaps increased sensitivity. The transformation appears to have been additive rather than replacing anything."
"You can redress," Maria finally said, completing her notes. "I've documented the baseline measurements."
Natasha pulled her clothing back into place, oddly relieved to return to the equalizing nature of being fully dressed. "So what's your assessment, doctor?"
Maria closed her laptop and leaned against the counter, her posture relaxing slightly. "Physically, everything appears functional and stable. Your body has accommodated the change remarkably well. The localized temperature increase in your right hand remains unexplained but doesn't seem immediately concerning."
"The practical assessment is what concerns me," Natasha said, moving to sit in a chair across from Maria. "Field operations, cover identities, physical combat. This changes variables I've relied on for years."
Maria considered this, her analytical mind clearly processing the operational implications. "Your combat style relies on flexibility and leverage rather than brute force. The anatomical addition shouldn't significantly impact that."
"Unless I take a hit to a newly vulnerable area," Natasha pointed out.
"Fair point. Additional protective gear might be warranted." Maria seemed to slip naturally from medical examiner to tactical advisor. "As for cover identities – well, you're already a master of disguise. This becomes one more element to manage."
The conversation shifted from the examination table to Maria's living room, where they continued discussing practical concerns over glasses of wine – a Bordeaux that Natasha appreciated for its complexity.
"You have good taste," she observed, gesturing to the wine as she settled onto the comfortable leather couch.
"I have good everything," Maria replied with unexpected humor, taking the armchair opposite. "People just rarely see past the uniform."
Natasha took another sip, studying Maria over the rim of her glass. "I'm seeing quite a bit past the uniform tonight."
The comment hung between them. Maria tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, a surprisingly girlish gesture from the normally composed deputy director.
"How are you really handling this, Natasha?" she asked, the use of her first name creating an immediate shift in the conversation's tone. "Not Agent Romanoff, not the Black Widow. You."
The question caught Natasha off-guard. Few people ever asked about her personal feelings, and fewer still received honest answers. But something about the evening – the privacy, the shared secret, the wine – loosened her usual restraint.
"Adapting," she said finally. "Like I've adapted to everything else life has thrown at me. The Red Room, defection, SHIELD." She gestured vaguely toward her lower body. "This is just one more... adjustment."
"That's very pragmatic," Maria observed.
"I'm Russian. Pragmatism is our national sport," Natasha replied with a small smile that faded as she continued. "But if you're asking if it's affected how I see myself... yes. How could it not?"
Maria leaned forward slightly. "In what ways?"
Natasha considered the question, finding herself genuinely reflecting rather than constructing a response. "I've always been aware of my body as a tool, a weapon. I was trained to use femininity as both disguise and advantage. Now... the rules have changed. I'm experiencing sensations, responses, even attractions differently."
"The increased interest in women you mentioned," Maria noted, her tone carefully neutral despite the light flush rising on her cheeks.
"Among other things," Natasha confirmed. "My senses seem heightened. Scents are more potent, physical contact more... impactful."
As if to demonstrate, she reached out and briefly touched Maria's hand where it rested on the armchair. The contact sent that now-familiar warmth spreading up her arm, and she noticed Maria's slight intake of breath.
"Like that," Natasha said softly. "Everything feels more."
Maria cleared her throat and stood abruptly, moving toward the kitchen.
"We should probably complete the physical assessment," she said, her voice slightly less steady than before. "Document any changes during... arousal."
The clinical words couldn't disguise the shift in atmosphere. Natasha remained seated, one eyebrow arched. "That seems thorough."
"For a complete baseline," Maria explained, returning with a medical tablet rather than the wine bottle Natasha had expected. "We need to understand the full range of physiological responses."
"Of course," Natasha agreed, her lips curving into a slight smile. "For science."
They returned to the makeshift examination room, the mood distinctly different from their earlier clinical interaction. Natasha removed her jeans once more, this time acutely aware of Maria's gaze as she revealed her new anatomy.
"I'll need to document the changes during arousal," Maria said, her professional tone belied by the slight huskiness in her voice. "Do you want to... self-stimulate? Or we could use visual stimuli..."
"I think we're past that point, don't you?" Natasha replied directly, noting how Maria's pupils had dilated. "Your scientific curiosity seems to be creating quite an effect already."
Indeed, her body was responding to the tension in the room, her new appendage beginning to swell and lengthen without any physical contact.
Maria's eyes widened slightly as she watched the transformation, her tongue unconsciously darting out to moisten her lips. The gesture sent a jolt of arousal through Natasha's body, her new anatomy responding immediately, hardening fully to its impressive nine-inch length.
"Jesus," Maria breathed, scientific detachment momentarily abandoned. "That's... significant."
How do men think with these things? Natasha wondered as blood rushed from her brain to her new appendage. The sensation was overwhelming, creating a singular focus that seemed to override rational thought.
"Measurements," she reminded Maria with a hint of amusement, finding unexpected enjoyment in the deputy director's flustered state.
"Right. Yes." Maria visibly collected herself, reaching for the caliper with hands that weren't quite steady. "For the record."
As Maria leaned closer to take measurements, Natasha could detect her perfume – something subtle and clean with notes of vanilla. The proximity sent another surge of arousal through her body, causing her erection to twitch visibly.
Maria froze, caliper in hand, her professional mask slipping completely as her eyes darkened with what could only be described as desire.
"This is getting complicated, isn't it?" Natasha observed quietly, making no move to cover herself.
"Professionally speaking, extremely," Maria agreed, her voice low. She set down the caliper without taking the measurement, her composure visibly wavering. "I should maintain objectivity."
"And personally speaking?" Natasha pressed gently.
Maria met her eyes directly, something resolute forming in her expression. "Personally speaking, I haven't stopped thinking about what I saw in that examination room since Wednesday."
Natasha felt a surge of heat in her right palm, that strange tingling intensifying with her arousal.
"Science is about exploration," Natasha said softly. "Discovering the unknown."
"This goes beyond professional boundaries," Maria replied, though she made no move to step away.
"Then let's establish new ones," Natasha suggested, reaching out to touch Maria's cheek with her left hand – the one not experiencing the unusual heat. "Starting with honesty. I'm attracted to you, Maria. More intensely since the change, but it's not new."
Maria's breath caught, her professional reserve crumbling visibly. "This is such a bad idea."
"Probably," Natasha agreed with a small smile. "The best ones usually are."
With slowness, she stepped forward, close enough that Natasha could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
"To hell with protocol," Maria whispered.
They moved toward each other simultaneously, closing the final distance as if pulled by gravity. Maria's lips met Natasha's with surprising gentleness at first – a questioning touch, seeking permission. Natasha responded by deepening the kiss immediately, one hand sliding to the nape of Maria's neck to draw her closer.
So this is what Maria Hill tastes like, Natasha thought with a flash of triumph. Wine and pleasure.
The kiss transformed quickly from exploratory to hungry, years of unacknowledged tension finding release in the press of mouths and tangling of tongues.
"I've wondered about this," Maria admitted breathlessly when they broke apart, her hands now resting on Natasha's hips. "More than I should have."
"Professional curiosity?" Natasha teased, her breathing equally unsteady.
"Nothing professional about it," Maria confessed, her gaze dropping to where Natasha's sweater revealed the generous curves of her breasts. "May I?"
Natasha answered by taking Maria's hands and placing them on her breasts, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through her already heightened nervous system. "Research should be hands-on, don't you think?"
Maria's touch was exploratory at first, mapping the fullness of Natasha's breasts through the soft fabric of her sweater. When her thumbs brushed over hardening nipples, Natasha couldn't suppress a soft gasp.
"Sensitive," Maria observed, her scientific mind apparently still partially engaged despite the intimate context.
"Everything is, since the change," Natasha confirmed, her voice huskier than usual. "It's like all my nerve endings have been rewired for maximum input."
Maria's eyes darkened further at this information. With newfound boldness, she slid her hands beneath the hem of Natasha's sweater, encountering the silky skin of her abdomen before continuing upward to cup her breasts directly. The sensation of cool fingers against heated flesh drew a shuddering breath from Natasha.
"Bozhe moy (My God)," she murmured as Maria's thumbs circled her nipples with pressure. The stimulation sent a direct line of pleasure to her new anatomy, which responded with an insistent throb.
Maria's gaze dropped to where Natasha remained exposed below the waist, her erection now straining upward with unmistakable need.
"I want to touch you," she said, the directness of the statement sending another surge of arousal through Natasha's body. "If that's okay."
"More than okay," Natasha assured her, her right palm now practically burning with that strange heat that accompanied strong emotion. "I've been wondering what it would feel like."
Maria's hand moved with cautious, trailing down from Natasha's breast, over her abdomen, until finally closing around the shaft of her erection. The contact sent a shock of pleasure so intense that Natasha had to brace herself against the examination table, her knees threatening to buckle.
"Chert voz'mi (Damn)," she gasped, the sensation overwhelming her usually impeccable control. "That feels... amazing."
Maria's fingers adjusted their grip, exploring the new territory with the same methodical attention she brought to everything.
Despite the clinical observation, her touch was anything but clinical. She stroked experimentally, watching Natasha's face with rapt attention.
"I can make it feel even better," Maria promised, her voice dropping to a register Natasha had never heard from the deputy director before. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly lowered herself to her knees.
This can't be happening, Natasha thought wildly, watching Maria Hill – SHIELD's most by-the-book commander – kneeling before her cock.
"You don't have to—" Natasha began, but Maria cut her off with a look that was pure determination.
"I want to," she stated simply. "I've been thinking about this since I first saw it. Consider it... thorough research."
Before Natasha could respond, Maria leaned forward and pressed her lips to the sensitive head of Natasha's erection. The warm, wet contact sent a jolt of pleasure so intense that Natasha couldn't contain a deep moan, her right hand gripping the edge of the examination table with white knuckles.
Maria's lips parted, taking the tip into the wet heat of her mouth while her eyes remained locked on Natasha's face, gauging her reaction. The sight was as arousing as the physical sensation – Maria Hill on her knees, those commanding lips wrapped around her, those intelligent eyes darkened with desire.
"Maria," Natasha breathed, her free hand gently brushing dark hair back from Maria's face. It was all she could manage to say as sensation overwhelmed thought, writing the first entry in what promised to be a very different kind of ledger.
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