Steve was pulling his tie from his uniform when Natasha came out of the bathroom, having insisted on removing the dress the moment Steve set her down to kiss her after carrying her through the threshold.
He tried not to look, for as long as possible. But he couldn’t help it.
The white tanktop curved down with her cleavage, accented by lace at the top seams and he could barely see the edges of her panties from under the hem.
It occurred to Steve in some distant corner of his mind that any number of the USO girls would have committed violent atrocities to have legs like Natasha. Though he wasn’t sure how many of them would have strapped a gun to them.
She gave him that lazy smile “I said no promises,” and crossed the room languidly.
Steve turned to face her, stunned to some degree.
“Close your mouth, soldier.” She said when she reached him, stretched up on her toes and lips a hairbreadths from his.
He leaned for her, and she pulled away with a smirk, taking him by the tie to the bed.
No complaints there.
She had them kneeled, facing each other, as she undid his tie and then slipped it off from around his neck, immediately sliding her hands underneath his jacket to remove that as well, fingers brushing his chest.
Their breath mingled, noses nudging each other as they shared feather light kisses, Natasha slowly and steadily stripping Steve of his layers.
When he was bare-chested in front of her, wearing nothing but boxers, he leaned forward to catch her lips more fully, lightly trailing a hand down from her hip to the buckles of her holster.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing this,” he murmured against her lips, beginning to undo the straps.
“No,” Natasha agreed, “Not when I’m with you.” And wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him to her with no intention of resurfacing for quite some time.