Chapter Text
Kate groaned as she collapsed onto the barstool, her elbows hitting the worn wood with more force than intended. She shrugged out of her suit jacket, hooking it under the bar, then pulled at her tie to undo the top two buttons of her shirt with quick, frustrated movements. Her head dropped heavily into her hands, fingers pressing against her temples as if she could physically push out the tension coiled there like a spring wound too tight.
Her mother's voice still echoed in her head, sharp and cutting from their noon meeting. "The quarterly reports are unacceptable, Katherine. I don't care if half the team called in sick, you're the COO, not a child, figure it out." The words had been delivered with that particular tone Eleanor Bishop reserved for disappointments—cold, precise, brooking no room for argument or explanation.
So Kate spent the next six hours of her day doing exactly that. Figuring it out.
Fielding panicked calls from the London office about delayed shipments while simultaneously reviewing budget projections that made her stomach turn. Mediating a screaming match between two department heads in the glass-walled conference room, acutely aware that half the floor could see her trying to keep her composure while grown adults acted like children.
Watching her assistant's face fall in disappointed understanding when Kate had to cancel their planned review meeting for the third time this month—the meeting where they were supposed to discuss Gwen's well-deserved promotion.
The guilt over that one still sat heavy in her chest.
She desperately needed a drink. Several drinks, actually.
Not a drink at the polished cocktail lounges where she smiled through client meetings, rocks glass in hand like some corporate prop, making small talk about market trends and quarterly projections while her jaw ached from maintaining the perfect professional smile. Not at the country club where her mother held court among New York's elite, where every conversation was a performance and every interaction carried the weight of the Bishop name.
Just somewhere with strong drinks, dim lighting, and people who didn't know or care that she was Katherine Bishop, COO of Bishop Security. Somewhere she could just be Kate—tired, frustrated, human Kate—without worrying about maintaining the perfect image her mother demanded.
She'd discovered Hemlock & Honey months ago, on what could only be described as the worst Tinder date of her life.
Whitney had seemed normal enough in her messages—funny, employed, claimed to share her love of dogs. In person, she'd turned out to be a walking LinkedIn profile with a superiority complex.
"So I just closed a deal worth seven figures," She was bragging before their drinks even arrived, examining her manicured nails. "My boss said it was the biggest acquisition our firm has handled in five years. Obviously, they're fast-tracking me for partner now."
Kate had smiled politely, trying to interject. "That's great, I—"
"And the signing bonus?" Whitney continued without missing a beat. "Let's just say I'm looking at penthouses in Tribeca now. Nothing under three thousand square feet, obviously. You have to have standards, you know?"
"Right," Kate managed weakly.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I worked hard to get here." Whitney leaned back, gesturing expansively with her cocktail. "Harvard Law doesn't just accept anyone. And making junior partner at twenty-nine? Basically unheard of. My mentor said I'm the most naturally gifted attorney he's seen in two decades."
Kate took a long sip of her drink, hoping Whitney would take the hint. She didn't.
"What about you?" Whitney asked, though her tone suggested she was asking out of obligation rather than genuine interest. "What do you do?"
"I work in—"
"Oh, wait, before you answer—you have to see the car I just leased." Whitney was already pulling out her phone, scrolling through photos. "It's a Porsche. Cayenne Turbo. Seventy-five thousand, but honestly, when you're at my level, you have to project success, you know? Image is everything in corporate law."
Kate felt her jaw tightening, that familiar corporate smile freezing on her face—the same one she wore through tedious board meetings. "That's... very nice."
"I know, right?" Whitney beamed, completely oblivious. "So anyway, what was your job again? Something with computers?"
Before Kate could respond—or more likely, before Whitney could interrupt again—salvation arrived.
Dark hair fell in artfully messy layers that looked both effortless and impossibly cool, the kind of cut that said she didn't care what anyone thought but somehow looked perfect anyway. Smoky eye makeup made her amber eyes almost luminous in the bar's dim lighting. Tattoos covered both arms in intricate patterns—Kate caught glimpses of flowers, geometric designs, maybe some script she couldn't quite make out right away. Sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline gave her face an angular quality, beautiful in a dangerous sort of way.
And her expression? It could have sliced through steel.
"Oh my God!" The woman's voice rang out throughout the bar, raspy and furious, loud enough that multiple heads swiveled in their direction. Kate felt her stomach drop, confusion flooding through her as the woman pointed an accusatory finger directly at her. "You ghosted me for weeks and now you have the audacity to come here with another woman?!"
Kate's mind went blank, confusion flooding through her. "I—what?" she stammered, but the woman was already moving, her performance in full swing.
"You think you can just ignore me for three weeks and then parade around here with someone new?" The woman's voice carried across the bar, sharp with manufactured hurt. "Do you have any idea what that does to a person?"
Understanding dawned on Kate like a light switch flipping. She let her eyes widen in panic, playing along. "Wait—no—this isn't what it looks like—"
"Isn't what it looks like?" The woman laughed bitterly. "So you're not on a date right now? At our bar?"
"I was going to text you back," Kate said, injecting desperation into her voice. "Work has been insane, I just needed a few days to—"
"A few days?" The woman's voice cracked perfectly. "Try twenty-two days. I counted."
"Okay, what the actual fuck?" Whitney's voice cut in, high-pitched with nervous laughter. "Kate, do you know this psycho?"
The woman whirled on Whitney, eyes blazing. "Psycho? Psycho? I'm the one who gave her the best night of her life and got ghosted for my trouble, but I'm the psycho here?"
Kate reached out, her hand hovering between them. "Please, can we just—"
"Don't touch me!" The woman jerked back dramatically. "You made your choice. I hope she's worth it."
"Nope. Absolutely not." Whitney was already on her feet, snatching her designer handbag from the back of her chair. "I don't do drama. This is fucking unhinged."
She didn't wait for a response, just turned on her heel and stalked toward the exit. The door swung shut behind her with a decisive thud that echoed through the suddenly quiet bar.
Kate waited a beat, then another, making sure Whitney was really gone before turning back to her rescuer. The woman's fierce expression had already melted into pure satisfaction, a grin spreading across her face.
"You're a lifesaver," Kate breathed out, relief washing over her.
"That woman was insufferable," the woman groaned, picking up Whitney's half-finished martini and moving behind the bar to dump it into the sink. That's when Kate noticed the all-black outfit, the easy familiarity with the space behind the bar. She wasn't a patron—she worked here.
"I could hear her from across the room going on about her Porsche," the bartender continued, wiping down the bar as if saving people from horrible dates was routine. "Ugh, what a twat. Anyway, I'm Rio, and that's on the house—can't have your first impression of this place be awful."
"Kate," she said gratefully, her relief palpable. "You're my hero. Thank you so much."
They'd ended up talking for hours that night. Rio had a sharp wit and an endless supply of stories from her years behind the bar—tales of proposal disasters, first date train wrecks, and celebrity sightings that had Kate laughing until tears streamed down her face. And somewhere between the second and third drink, their conversation had shifted into playful territory, Rio teasing her mercilessly about the disastrous date while Kate shot back with increasingly creative comebacks that made Rio's eyes light up with delight.
Emboldened by vodka and the way Rio's eyes crinkled when she smiled, Kate had leaned forward. "So... um how old are you, anyway?"
Rio had paused mid-pour, an amused smile playing at her lips. "How old do you think I am?"
"I don't know," Kate said, studying her. The smooth skin, the eyebrow piercing, the energy that filled the space around her. "Early-thirties?"
Rio had laughed—a real laugh, head thrown back. "God, I love you. Fifty-two, sweetheart."
Kate's eyes had gone wide. "What? No way. You're lying."
"Scout's honor." Rio held up three fingers, still grinning.
"That's..." Kate did the math, felt her face flush. That was twice her age.
"Yeah." Rio's smile had softened, turned knowing. "Which is why when you inevitably work up the courage to ask me out—and honey, I can see it coming from a mile away—I'm going to have to say no."
Kate felt her face go hot, mortification flooding through her. "I wasn't—I didn't—"
"Kate." Rio leaned across the bar, her voice gentle but firm. "You're sweet. You're funny. You're gorgeous. But you're way too young for me." She reached out, squeezed Kate's hand briefly. "And even if age wasn't a factor, my wife would chew you up and spit you out."
"You're married?" Kate’s voice was weak, mortification flooding through her when she finally noticed the ring on the woman she’d been kinda sorta flirting with.
"Nineteen years next month." Rio pulled back, but her smile was kind. "Look, I could use a friend who isn't completely insufferable. And you look like you could use one too. Deal?"
Kate smiled, pushing down the flutter of disappointment in her chest. "Deal."
By closing time, Kate had Rio's number saved in her phone under "Badass Bartender (DO NOT FLIRT)" and a standing invitation to come back anytime she needed a strong drink and someone who'd tell her the truth.
She'd been coming back weekly ever since.
A glass appeared in front of her, bringing her back to reality. The delicate crystal coop caught the low light, filled with pale pink liquid topped with a cloud of white foam. A skewer of raspberries perched on top like jewels.
Kate blinked at it, confused—she hadn't ordered anything yet, and she certainly never ordered something so pink before.
"What's this?" she asked, looking up to find Rio watching her with an expression of barely contained amusement, one eyebrow arched in that way that always made Kate tense for inevitable teasing.
"Clover Club," Rio said, gesturing toward the far corner of the bar with a tilt of her head. "The bombshell over there bought it."
Kate followed Rio's gesture to a corner table where a woman sat, impossibly elegant in the low light. Her blonde hair was slicked back, highlighting sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. A black dress with a daring slit revealed a glimpse of pale thigh as she sat with her legs crossed. Red heels matched her bold lipstick perfectly. When her eyes—a striking green—met Kate's, the intensity in them sent heat crawling up Kate's neck.
The woman raised her glass in a slow, deliberate gesture, her lips curving into a knowing smile before she took a sip, her gaze never wavering from Kate's face.
Kate looked back down at the pink drink, suddenly very aware of her racing pulse. "Oh."
"Yeah," Rio said, her voice rich with amusement. "Oh."
Kate hesitated, her fingers hovering over the glass. The blonde woman was still watching her, that small smile playing at her lips, and Kate felt frozen between wanting to seem confident and the uncertainty churning in her stomach.
"Get a move on, moron," Rio's voice cut through her paralysis, low and amused. When Kate glanced back, Rio was wiping down the bar with exaggerated nonchalance, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "She didn't buy you that drink so you could stare at it like it's gonna explode."
Kate felt her cheeks flush. "I'm not—"
"You are." Rio didn't look up from the bar. "You're overthinking. Go talk to the gorgeous woman who's clearly interested in you, or I'm telling Agatha you tried to kiss me."
Kate knew it was an empty threat—one Rio made often, usually when she was being particularly ridiculous—but her pulse still raced at the thought of Rio's frankly terrifying wife coming after her. Kate had seen her react to anyone who so much as breathed too close to Rio, the woman was protective in a way that bordered on feral.
She took a breath, picked up the glass, and gathered her jacket. Her legs felt slightly unsteady as she crossed the distance between the bar and the corner table, but she managed not to trip over her own feet. The blonde woman's smile widened as she approached, satisfaction flickering in those green eyes.
Kate stopped next to the unoccupied booth across from her and tapped a finger against it. "This seat taken?"
The woman set down her glass delicately, her gaze traveling openly over Kate's figure—lingering on the way her shirt hugged her frame, at the trousers draped down her legs. "It is now."
Kate settled into the seat, draping her jacket over the back. She lifted the pink cocktail, studying it with mock skepticism. "You know, most people would've sent over a scotch or Old Fashioned."
"Most people lack imagination." The woman's husky Russian accent sent a pleasant shiver down Kate's spine. "They look at a woman in a suit and immediately think she needs something dark and heavy. But you strike me as someone secure enough to drink something pink without worrying what it says about you."
Kate brought the glass to her lips and took a slow sip. The cocktail was exquisite—sharp raspberry notes dancing through the botanical gin, the foam dissolving like silk against her tongue. She lowered the glass, meeting those green eyes with a raised eyebrow. "What if I told you I'm more of a bourbon girl?"
The woman's smile sharpened into something predatory. "Then I'd know you’re a terrible liar."
Kate couldn't help the laugh that escaped—genuine, unguarded. She reached across the table, offering her hand. "Kate Bishop." The woman's fingers wrapped around hers, warm and deliberate. "So what do I call you? Clover?"
A low, rich laugh rumbled from the woman's throat as her thumb traced a slow line across Kate's knuckles before releasing her hand. "Yelena," she said, her accent curling around the syllables. "Yelena Belova."
Kate leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze sweep over Yelena with deliberate appreciation. "So what's a pretty girl like you doing alone in a bar on a Friday night?"
Yelena lifted her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down, her eyes never left Kate's. "I'm not alone anymore, am I?"
The response landed somewhere between Kate's ribs, warm and electric. "Smooth."
"I don't believe in wasting time with uncertainty," Yelena said, tracing one finger along the rim of her glass. "When I see something I want, I take it."
"Is that what this is?" Kate gestured between them with her cocktail glass. "You saw me at the bar and decided you wanted me?"
"I saw you collapse onto that barstool like the weight of the world was on your shoulders." Yelena's head tilted slightly, studying her. "Then I saw you loosen your tie, roll up your sleeves, and still somehow look like you belonged on the cover of a magazine. So yes, Kate Bishop. I decided I wanted to have you."
Kate's throat went dry. She took another sip of her Clover Club, buying herself a moment to compose her thoughts. "That's quite the observation from across the room."
"I'm very observant." Yelena's smile widened. "For instance, I noticed you checked for a wedding ring before you sat down."
Heat flooded Kate's cheeks. "I did not—"
"You did." Yelena held up her left hand, wiggling her jewelry-clad fingers. "As I said, you’re a terrible liar. It's smart to check, but for the record, I'm very single."
Kate set down her glass with perhaps more force than necessary, willing her flush to fade through will alone. "Well then. For the record, so am I."
"Good," Yelena said simply, her green eyes darkening with something that made Kate's pulse quicken. "Then there's nothing stopping us from getting to know each other better."
"Nothing at all," Kate agreed, her voice dropping lower. "Though I have to warn you—I'm terrible at small talk."
"Perfect." Yelena's grin was pure sin. "I wasn't planning on doing much talking."
The elevator ride up was torture. Kate kept stealing glances at Yelena, who leaned against the elevator wall with that same knowing smile, like she could read every thought racing through Kate's mind. Which she probably could, considering Kate had never been good at hiding what she was thinking.
"Here we are," Kate announced unnecessarily as they reached her door, her fingers fumbling with the keys, hands unsteady with anticipation.
The door swung open to reveal Kate's apartment—high ceilings, exposed brick, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Yelena stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the space.
"Nice place.”
"Yeah." Kate closed the door behind them, "I inherited it from my dad."
She barely finished before Yelena was on her.
Strong hands pushed her back against the wood, the door clicking shut with the weight of Kate's body. Despite her heels, Yelena was slightly shorter than Kate, but her presence filled the space entirely—commanding, impossible to look away from. She pressed close, one hand braced against the door beside Kate's head, caging her in.
"Kate," Yelena said, her face inches away, green eyes dark with intent. “Before we do anything I want to be explicitly clear— communication is important. I will check in with you but you will tell me what you want and don’t want, okay?”
Kate's brain short-circuited for a moment before catching up. “Y-yeah that— that sounds cool.”
Yelena's free hand came up to rest lightly on Kate's hip, her thumb dipping slightly below the waistband. "Good girl."
Then Yelena kissed her.
It wasn't gentle or exploratory. It was consuming—Yelena's mouth hot and demanding against hers, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Kate's neck while the other gripped her hip hard enough to leave marks. Kate's hands came up instinctively, clutching at Yelena's shoulders, trying to anchor herself as her legs went weak beneath her.
Yelena's tongue swept across Kate's lower lip and she opened for her immediately, a small whimper escaping her throat that she would've been embarrassed about if she could form any coherent thoughts beyond more and please and holy shit.
Then Yelena pulled back, leaving Kate gasping against the door, her lips already feeling swollen and tender. Kate's vision swam for a moment before focusing on Yelena's face—that knowing smile back in place, though her pupils were blown wide and her breathing wasn't quite steady either.
“Tell me what you want, Kate.”
"I want—" Kate started, her voice coming out rough and desperate. She swallowed hard, trying to find words through the haze of want clouding her brain. "I want to taste you."
Yelena's eyebrow arched slowly, deliberately. She didn't move away, but something shifted in her expression—less intense heat, more teasing interest. "Is that how you ask for what you want?"
Kate blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "I—what?"
"Try again," Yelena said, her tone firm but not unkind. Her thumb traced a slow circle against Kate's hip bone. "Use your words properly."
Heat flooded Kate's face, but it wasn't entirely from embarrassment. Something about the command in Yelena's voice, the expectation of better from her, sent a thrill straight through her core. She took a shaky breath, meeting those green eyes directly.
"Please," Kate said, her voice steadier now despite how her heart hammered. "Can I—may I taste you?"
Yelena's smile turned absolutely wicked. "Much better." Her hand slid from Kate's hip to her jaw, tilting her face down slightly to look at her directly. "Yes, Kate. You may."
Kate dropped to her knees immediately, her hands sliding under Yelena's dress to hook into the waistband of her underwear. The fabric was already damp against her fingers, and Kate's breath caught at the discovery. She looked up, meeting Yelena's darkened gaze with something like wonder.
"You're so wet," Kate breathed, her voice rough with awe and desire.
"What did you expect? I've been thinking about this since I first saw you."
Kate slowly pulled the underwear down Yelena's legs, watching as she stepped out of them gracefully, one hand braced against the door behind Kate's head for balance.
"Such a good girl," Yelena murmured, her accent thicker now, rougher. "So eager to please."
The praise sent heat coursing through Kate's entire body. She looked up, meeting Yelena's darkened gaze, and felt her breath catch at the intensity there.
"Now," Yelena said, her free hand sliding into Kate's hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. "You’re mouth will be busy so tap my thigh twice if you need to slow down. Three times if you need to stop completely. Understand?"
"Yes," Kate breathed, her hands coming up to grip Yelena's hips. “I understand.”
Yelena's smile was absolutely sinful as she hooked one leg over Kate's shoulder, opening herself up. Her hand tightened in Kate's hair—not pulling, but holding, guiding. "Then show me what that pretty mouth can do."
Kate dove in without hesitation.
The first taste of Yelena on her tongue— musky and semi-sweet— made Kate moan against her, the sound muffled and desperate. Her hands gripped Yelena's hips harder, pulling her closer as her tongue worked with single-minded focus. Above her, she heard Yelena's sharp intake of breath, felt the muscles in her thigh tense against Kate's shoulder.
"Bozhe moy," Yelena gasped, her hand tightening in Kate's hair. Her other hand pressed flat against the door, bracing herself as Kate's tongue moved with growing confidence. "Da, just like that—"
Kate felt a surge of pride at at the way Yelena's accent grew thicker with every stroke of her tongue. She adjusted her angle slightly, paying attention to every hitch in Yelena's breathing, every subtle shift of her hips, learning what made her gasp and what made her curse in Russian.
"You're so good at this," Yelena managed, her voice strained. "So good for me, Kate—"
Kate's eyes fluttered closed as heat pooled low in her belly, spreading through her limbs like liquid fire. She'd never considered herself someone with a praise kink—had never even thought about it, really—but now, with Yelena's breathless words falling over her like a benediction, she couldn't deny the way each compliment sent sparks racing down her spine, made her core clench with desperate need.
She lost herself completely in the moment, surrendering to the sensations overwhelming her: the intoxicating taste of Yelena on her tongue, musky and addictive; the solid weight of her thigh draped over Kate's shoulder, muscles trembling with tension; the heat radiating from Yelena's body; each breathless word of praise falling like a blessing Kate hadn't known she was seeking.
Her jaw was beginning to ache, a dull throb starting to build from the sustained effort, but the discomfort barely registered—it was background noise, irrelevant compared to the all-consuming need to please, to bring Yelena higher. She didn't want to stop, didn't want this moment to end. If she could, she would stay right here, on her knees, worshipping Yelena with her mouth, feeling her come undone above her, listening to that accent grow thicker with every gasp and moan.
Forever, if possible.
Yelena's hips started to move, rocking against Kate's mouth in shallow thrusts. Her fingers tightened almost painfully in Kate's hair, using it to guide her exactly where she wanted. "Don't stop," she commanded, her voice breaking on the last word as she fucked herself on Kate’s tongue. "Don't you dare stop krasavitsa—"
Kate had absolutely no intention of stopping. She doubled her efforts, her tongue working faster, harder, chasing every sound that fell from Yelena's lips. The hand against the door curled into a fist, and Kate heard the dull thud of Yelena's knuckles hitting the wood.
"Kate—" Yelena's whole body tensed, her leg tightening around Kate's shoulder, nails scraping Kate’s skull. "Ya—ya pochti—"
Then Yelena was coming, her back arching, a string of Russian curses and Kate's name falling from her lips in a broken litany. Kate worked her through it, gentling her movements as Yelena's body shuddered and trembled above her.
Finally, Yelena's grip loosened in her hair, and she carefully lowered her leg from Kate's shoulder. Kate sat back on her heels, breathing hard, her lips swollen and wet. She looked up at Yelena through heavy-lidded eyes, still lost in the haze of worship, her jaw aching in the most satisfying way. The taste of Yelena lingered on her tongue, and she found herself wanting more—wanting to stay right here, on her knees, for as long as Yelena would let her. The ache between her own thighs was almost unbearable—she'd never been brought so close to the edge just from pleasuring someone else.
Yelena was breathing hard, her pupils blown wide, her cheeks flushed. She looked down at Kate with an expression that made Kate flush further.
"Bozhe," Yelena said again, softer this time. She reached down, cupping Kate's jaw and tilting her face up to look at her fully. "You are full of surprises, Kate Bishop."
Kate rubbed her thighs together, dripping at the praise, still a little breathless. "Good surprises?"
"Very good surprises." Yelena's thumb traced along Kate's swollen bottom lip. Kate opened her mouth to suck it in, humming as Yelena's mouth parted in surprise, her eyes impossibly dark. Then her smile turned sharp again. "But we're far from done. Up."
Kate stood on slightly shaky legs at the command, Yelena immediately pressing her back against the door, capturing Kate's mouth in a searing kiss.
Yelena's hands moved to the buttons of Kate's shirt, fingers working slowly, deliberately, unfastening them one by one. Each button revealed more skin, and Yelena's eyes tracked the movement with predatory focus as she traced the curve of Kate's waist, her ribs, moving higher.
"You did so well for me," Yelena murmured against Kate's lips, punctuating each word with another kiss and another button. "So eager, so obedient." Her hands reached Kate's bra, cupping her through the fabric. "Now it's my turn to make you fall apart."
Kate whimpered at the promise in those words, her hands clutching at Yelena's shoulders as her knees threatened to give out entirely. She'd never been so turned on in her life.
Yelena's mouth moved to her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and Kate's head fell back against the door with a soft thud.
"Bedroom," Yelena husked against Kate's skin, her voice rough with desire. "Where is it?"
"U-Up the stairs," Kate breathed. "In the loft."
Yelena pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, that predatory smile back in full force. "Lead the way."
Kate's legs barely worked as she led them to the staircase, hyperaware of the slick pooling between her legs. Yelena close behind her, the weight of her gaze like a physical touch between her shoulder blades. Her hands shook slightly as she pushed open the bedroom door, revealing her space—unmade bed, clothes draped over the chair, a stack of books on the nightstand she'd been meaning to read for months.
"Sorry about the mess," Kate started to say, but Yelena was already there, crowding into her space, hands finding her hips and turning her around.
"Stop apologizing," Yelena murmured, walking Kate backward toward the bed. "I don't care about your mess. I care about making you forget every single thought in that pretty head of yours."
The backs of Kate's knees hit the mattress and she sat down hard, looking up at Yelena standing over her. The position should have made her feel vulnerable, but instead she felt powerful—the way Yelena looked at her, like she was something precious and profane all at once.
"First," Yelena’s voice dropped lower as she lifted one heeled foot to rest on the edge of the bed beside Kate's thigh. "These heels are killing me. Help me with them?"
Kate's breath caught at the casual command, at the deliberate way Yelena positioned herself. The slit in her dress fell open with the movement, revealing the smooth expanse of her thigh, riding dangerously high. Without conscious thought, Kate found herself sliding off the bed, drawn down by some invisible pull until she was kneeling at Yelena's feet once more, looking up at her with wide, reverent eyes.
Yelena's hand came to rest on Kate's shoulder for balance, her fingers pressing in just firmly enough to send heat racing down Kate's spine. "Such a good girl," Yelena murmured, her accent thick. "So eager to help."
Kate's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the delicate buckle at Yelena's ankle. The leather was soft, expensive, and the tiny buckle required focus that was nearly impossible when Yelena's fingers were tracing absent patterns on her shoulder, when she could feel the heat of Yelena's body so close.
"Take your time," Yelena said, amusement threading through her voice as she watched Kate's trembling fingers. "I'm not going anywhere." Her thumb traced a lazy circle on Kate's shoulder. "Besides, I'm quite enjoying the view from up here."
Kate finally got the first buckle undone, her fingers steadying as she carefully slid the heel from Yelena's foot. On impulse, she pressed a soft kiss to the delicate ankle bone, feeling Yelena's muscles tense under her lips. Yelena shifted, raising her other foot to rest against Kate's chest, and Kate's gaze traveled helplessly upward—following the elegant line of her calf, the curve of her thigh, watching the fabric of her dress fall away to reveal smooth skin that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the hem.
"Eyes on your task, Kate," Yelena chided gently, though her breathing had quickened, her lips parting slightly as she watched Kate's reverent focus.
Kate's face burned as she focused on the second buckle, her fingers working more confidently now despite the distraction. When she slid the second heel off, Yelena's hand tightened on her shoulder.
"Much better," Yelena said, stepping down and using her grip on Kate's shoulder to pull her back up and shove her onto the mattress. "Now, where were we?"
She knelt smoothly between Kate's legs, hands sliding up her thighs in a slow, deliberate path. "Tell me what you want, Kate."
"I want—" Kate's breath caught as Yelena's fingers found the button of her pants. "I want you to touch me. Please."
"Where?" Yelena's smile was wicked as she popped the button free, lowered the zipper with agonizing slowness. "Be specific."
Kate's face burned, but she forced the words out. "I want your hands on me. Everywhere. Your tongue, please, I want—" She swallowed hard. "I want to come apart for you."
"Khorosho," Yelena breathed, satisfaction coloring her voice. "I'm happy to give you everything you want."
Then her hands were everywhere—sliding Kate's pants and boy shorts down her legs, tracing the curve of her calves, pushing her thighs apart with firm, confident pressure. Kate fell back onto her elbows, watching as Yelena pressed open-mouthed kisses to the inside of her knee, working higher with each one.
"You're so responsive," Yelena murmured against her skin. "Every time I touch you, you tremble. Do you know how intoxicating that is?"
Kate couldn't form words anymore, could only whimper as Yelena's mouth moved higher, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles going white with the effort of staying still when every nerve in her body screamed to arch up into that touch.
"Excited?" Yelena asked, pausing just inches from where Kate needed her most.
"Yes," Kate gasped out. "God yes, just please—"
Yelena's laugh was dark and delicious. "Then let me hear you, Kate. I want to know exactly how good I'm making you feel."
Yelena didn't give her time to think about anything else.
Her mouth was on Kate immediately, tongue moving with purpose and insistence that made Kate cry out, her back arching off the bed. The sensation was overwhelming—Yelena's tongue hot and quick, her hands gripping Kate's thighs to hold her exactly where she wanted her.
"Oh god—" Kate gasped, one hand flying to clutch at the sheets beside her.
Yelena pulled back just enough to speak, her breath hot against Kate's sensitive skin. "Your hands, Kate. Put them here." She guided both of Kate's trembling hands to Kate's own chest. "Touch yourself. I want to watch you fall apart."
Kate's face burned at the command, but her body obeyed without hesitation. Both hands cupped her breasts under her bra, thumbs brushing over her nipples in a way that made her gasp.
"Da, just like that," Yelena murmured approvingly, her eyes locked on Kate's hand on her own body. "So beautiful when you listen. Now hold on."
Then Yelena's mouth was back on her, and Kate stopped thinking entirely. Her hands worked at her breast, pinching and rolling her nipples the way she liked, the dual sensations making her head spin.
"Yelena—" Kate's voice broke on her name, her hips starting to move of their own accord. "I can't—you’re so—"
"Too much?" Yelena demanded against her, the vibration of the word sending fresh sparks of pleasure through Kate's core.
"No," Kate sobbed out. "Keep going, please don't stop— I'm so close—"
Yelena hummed in satisfaction, and the vibrations resonated through Kate's core. She sealed her lips around Kate's clit and sucked, firm and insistent, her tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves in a rhythm that made Kate's vision blur.
Kate's hips bucked involuntarily, but Yelena's hands tightened on her thighs, holding her exactly where she wanted her. The suction intensified, Yelena's tongue working in tandem—circling, pressing, then sucking again—and Kate felt like she was being pulled apart at the seams.
The pressure building in her belly coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point. Her hand clenched harder on her chest, fingers trembling along her body as she chased that edge with desperate, broken sounds falling from her lips. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was on fire, converging at the point where Yelena's mouth worked her with devastating precision.
"Yelena—" Kate gasped, her voice breaking. "I-I'm going to—"
Yelena doubled her efforts, her head bobbing as she worked Kate over, her tongue moving faster, more deliberately, the suction unrelenting. Kate's thighs trembled under Yelena's grip, her entire body tensing as she teetered on the precipice.
"Look at you," Yelena said, pulling back just enough to meet Kate's eyes, her lips glistening as Kate whined at the loss. "Touching yourself, trembling, falling apart so perfectly for me. You're going to come for me, aren't you, Kate?"
"Y-yes," Kate whimpered, her hands still working at her chest, her whole body trembling. "Please, I'm so close, please—"
"Then come," Yelena commanded, her voice firm and absolute. "Come for me, Kate. Now."
She sealed her mouth back over Kate, and Kate shattered. Her back arched violently off the bed, her hand tightening almost painfully on her skin as the orgasm crashed through her in waves. She heard herself crying out—Yelena's name mixed with incoherent sounds of pleasure—but couldn't control it, couldn't do anything but ride it out as Yelena worked her through every tremor.
Finally, when it became too much, when every nerve ending felt raw and oversensitive, Kate pushed gently on Yelena’s shoulders. "I can't—too much—"
Yelena immediately gentled, pressing soft kisses to Kate's inner thighs as her breathing slowly returned to normal. Kate's hands fell limply to the bed beside her. She felt boneless, wrung out, like every ounce of tension had been pulled from her body and replaced with warm honey.
Yelena crawled up Kate's body, settling beside her on the bed and pulling her close. Kate turned into her automatically, burying her face against Yelena's neck.
"Krasavitsa," Yelena murmured, her hand stroking through Kate's hair with surprising tenderness. "You did so well. So perfect for me."
Kate made a small sound against her skin, still too blissed out to form actual words. Yelena's laugh was soft, affectionate in a way that made Kate's chest tighten.
"Stay here," Yelena said, pressing a kiss to Kate's temple. "I'll get you water."
Kate mumbled something incoherent against Yelena's shoulder, but managed to lift her head slightly. "Cups are in the corner cabinet," she said, her voice still rough and lazy with aftershocks.
She heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing from the kitchen, followed by what was definitely muttering in Russian—some of it sounding amused, some of it sounding incredulous. A moment later, Yelena returned holding a glass of water in one hand and a novelty mug with a purple cartoon archer on it in the other, one eyebrow raised in question.
"You have one cup and one mug," Yelena said, her tone somewhere between bemused and judgmental as she handed Kate the glass of water.
Kate pushed herself up on an elbow, taking a long drink before responding. "I'm one person," she said defensively, gesturing vaguely with the glass. "There's solo cups in there too if I have people over."
"Solo cups," Yelena repeated flatly, setting the mug down on the nightstand. "For guests."
"They're perfectly functional cups," Kate protested, though she couldn't quite meet Yelena's eyes. "And they come in different colors, so people know which one is theirs."
Yelena stared at her for a long moment, then shook her head with a small laugh. "Kate Bishop, this is not proper dishware. You live in this fancy apartment but drink from plastic like a college student."
"I have real cups and dishes," Kate argued, her face flushing. "I just... haven't gotten around to unpacking all the kitchen boxes yet."
"How long have you lived here?"
Kate took another long drink of water instead of answering.
"Bozhe moi," Yelena said, but she was smiling as she set her empty mug on the nightstand. "You are a disaster."
"A hot disaster," Kate corrected, unable to stop the smile tugging at her lips.
Yelena laughed, the sound rich and warm as she took Kate's empty glass and set it on the nightstand beside her mug. She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress, letting it slide down her body and pool at her feet, stepping out of it in nothing but a black lace bra that made Kate's brain turn to static.
Her body was breathtaking—all sturdy, lean curves and subtle muscle definition. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the low light, smooth and flawless except for a faint scar across her stomach. Kate's eyes traced the lines of her, the elegant slope of her shoulders, the gentle curve of her waist, the thick, powerful thighs that made Kate's mouth go dry with want.
Her eyes kept returning to that scar, pale silver against already fair skin, and Kate's fingers itched to trace it. Her mouth watered with the sudden, overwhelming urge to map every inch of Yelena's body with her tongue—to explore the valleys and ridges of subtle muscle, to feel those thick thighs tremble under her touch.
She knew she was staring, knew her mouth was probably hanging open, but she couldn't seem to form a coherent thought beyond oh god oh god oh god.
"Kate," Yelena broke her out of her musings, amusement clear in her voice. "You're still wearing clothes."
Kate blinked, looking down at herself as if surprised to find she was indeed still partially dressed—shirt unbuttoned but still on, bra askew. "Right. Yes. Clothes."
"Off," Yelena commanded, sliding her own bra off with teasing slowness. "Now."
Kate scrambled to obey, fumbling with the sleeves without taking her eyes off the goddess before her. She finally shrugged the shirt off and tossed it somewhere in the general direction of the floor. Her bra followed a second later, and she was suddenly very aware of how exposed she was—how Yelena's eyes tracked over every inch of her skin with hungry appreciation.
"You must work out," Yelena husked as her fingers trailing down Kate's torso appreciatively. Her touch lingered on the defined lines of Kate's abs, tracing each ridge with deliberate slowness. "These don't come from sitting behind a desk all day."
Kate's breath hitched at the touch, her muscles flexing involuntarily under Yelena's fingers. "I—yeah. I go to the gym most mornings before work. And I go to the archery range on weekends."
"Archery," Yelena repeated, her smile turning knowing as her hands mapped the lean muscle of Kate's shoulders and arms. "That explains the definition here." She squeezed Kate's bicep, then traced down to her forearm down to her palms. "And your grip strength."
Kate's face flushed, but she couldn't help the small pleased sound that escaped her throat at the praise. Her body was lean and athletic—not bulky, but clearly strong. Hours of drawing a bow had sculpted her arms and shoulders, while her dedication to morning workouts kept her core tight and her legs toned.
"You take care of yourself," Yelena murmured, almost to herself, her hands still exploring. "Even when rest of life is chaos with solo cups and unpacked boxes, you do this." Her fingers pressed against Kate's abs again, feeling them tense. "You’re capable of discipline."
She straddled Kate's hips. The weight of her settling there made Kate's breath catch, made heat pool low in her belly all over again despite having just come apart minutes ago.
"I'm going to ride your abs until I'm satisfied," Yelena said, her voice low and commanding as she shifted forward, positioning herself. "And if you're good—" She leaned down, her lips brushing Kate's ear. "If you're very good and keep your hands exactly where I tell you—I'll let you choose what happens next."
Kate's mouth went dry. "Wh—where do you want my hands?"
"On my hips," Yelena instructed, guiding Kate's hands to rest there. "Let me feel that grip strength of yours, but you don't control where I go or how fast. Understand?"
"Yes," Kate breathed, her fingers flexing against the smooth skin under her palms. “I— I understand.”
"Khorosho." Yelena smiled, sharp and satisfied, before she began to move.
The first slide of Yelena against her stomach made them both gasp. Kate could feel how wet Yelena was, could feel the heat of her, and it took every ounce of willpower not to pull her further, harder, faster. Instead she held on like Yelena had commanded, letting herself be used, and god—it was intoxicating.
Yelena's head tipped back, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders as she found her rhythm. Her hands braced on Kate's shoulders for leverage, holding her down, and Kate couldn't look away. The flex of her muscles, the flush spreading across her chest and neck, the way her lips parted on breathy sounds of pleasure—it was mesmerizing, art come to life. Kate wanted to memorize every detail, every shift of expression, every tremor that passed through Yelena's body.
"You're being so good," Yelena murmured, her voice strained now, rougher with need. "Just like that, Kate. Don't move. Let me use you."
Kate whimpered, her stomach muscles tensing under Yelena's movements, which only made Yelena moan louder. The sound went straight through Kate, sparking heat low in her belly, but she stayed still—good, obedient, exactly what Yelena wanted. Her fingers flexed against Yelena's hips, gripping tighter, feeling the shift of muscle and bone beneath warm skin.
Yelena's movements grew faster, more desperate, her nails digging into Kate's shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Kate could feel the tension building in Yelena's body, could hear it in the way her breathing turned ragged and broken.
"Kate—" Yelena's voice broke on the name, high and breathless. "I'm close—so close—"
"Please," Kate found herself begging, her own voice raw with want. "Please Yelena, I want to feel you—please—"
Yelena threw back her head as she cried out, her whole body tensing as her orgasm hit, and Kate held her through it, hands steady on her hips as Yelena rode out every wave of pleasure.
Finally, Yelena stilled, her breathing ragged, and she looked down at Kate with dark, satisfied eyes.
"You were perfect," Yelena murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Kate's lips. "So good for me."
Kate's heart stuttered at the praise, at the gentleness in Yelena's touch. "So... I get to choose?"
Yelena's smile turned wicked again. "Yes. Tell me what you want, Kate Bishop."
Kate's mind raced through possibilities, her heart still pounding from watching Yelena come apart above her. But her eyes kept dropping to the glistening evidence of Yelena's arousal on her stomach, and suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted.
"I want you to ride my face," Kate said, her voice rough with need.
Yelena's eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across her face before it melted into something softer, more amused. "You don't want me to make you come again?" she asked, tilting her head. "Most people would choose that."
Kate shook her head, her hands still clutching Yelena's hips like a lifeline. "It was so hot," she admitted, feeling heat flood her cheeks even as she said it. "How you just used me. I've never—I never tried that before, and you taste so good, and I just—" She broke off, swallowing hard. "I want to taste you again. Please."
Something shifted in Yelena's expression, the amusement softening into something warmer, more tender. She leaned down, capturing Kate's lips in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, almost reverent.
"So eager to please," Yelena murmured against her mouth, and there was no mockery in it—only affection, maybe even a hint of wonder. She pulled back, studying Kate's face. "You're sure?"
"Very sure," Kate said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest.
Yelena smiled, pressing one more soft kiss to Kate's lips before she began moving up Kate's body. "Then lie back, krasavitsa, and open that pretty mouth for me."
Kate settled back against the pillows, her heart racing as Yelena moved up her body with feline grace. She watched, transfixed, as Yelena positioned herself, her thick thighs bracketing Kate's head, and Kate's mouth watered at the sight of her—pink and swollen and still wet from her orgasm.
"Remember, two taps to slow, three to stop," Yelena husked down at her. "Ready?"
"Absolutely," Kate nodded eagerly and Yelena was lowering herself onto Kate's mouth.
The first contact of her dripping folds made Kate moan, the vibration making Yelena gasp above her. Kate's hands came up to grip Yelena's thighs, holding her steady as she began to explore with her tongue—slow, thorough, savoring every response she could draw out.
She took her time, remembering what had made Yelena gasp, what had made her hips buck. Long, slow strokes of her tongue, then quick flicks against her clit that made Yelena's thighs tremble around her head. Kate wanted to make this last—wanted to draw it out, wanted to learn every sound Yelena could make, every way she could make this beautiful woman fall apart.
"Bozhe—Kate—" Yelena's voice was strained, breathless, one hand gripping Kate's hair, the other clutching the headboard for dear life. "So good with your mouth—"
Kate hummed in response, the praise making warmth bloom in her chest even as she focused on her task. She alternated her rhythm, keeping Yelena on edge, building her up slowly, methodically. When Yelena's hips started to move, seeking more friction, more pressure, Kate held her tighter, her fingers digging into the meat of those thighs, holding her in place. She was in control now, setting the pace, and the power of it thrilled through her.
"You're teasing me," Yelena accused, though her voice was breathless, almost laughing.
Kate pulled back just enough to murmur, "Want to make it good for you," before diving back in.
She felt Yelena's thighs begin to shake, felt the way her body tensed, and Kate doubled her efforts—steady, consistent pressure exactly where Yelena needed it.
"Kate—" Yelena's voice broke, her grip tightening in Kate's hair. "Don't stop—don't stop—"
Kate had no intention of stopping.
She wanted to stay here forever, lost in the intimate act of bringing Yelena pleasure, drinking in every drop of the beautiful woman above her. She maintained the same rhythm, the same pressure, even as her jaw began to ache and her tongue went numb, even as Yelena's movements became increasingly erratic and desperate above her.
Yelena's whole body went rigid, every muscle tensing as she cried out—something in Russian that Kate didn't understand but felt reverberate through her entire being. Her thighs clenched tight around Kate's head, nearly suffocating her as she gushed into Kate's open mouth, and Kate worked her through it with unwavering dedication, gradually gentling her movements as the intense waves subsided into smaller tremors.
When Yelena finally lifted herself off, she was breathing hard, her chest heaving with exertion, her skin flushed a deep pink from her face down to her chest, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She looked down at Kate's thoroughly drenched face with something like awe and wonder, as if seeing her for the first time.
“Di—Did you just—?” Kate gasped.
"You—" Yelena started, then seemed to lose the words. She shifted down Kate's body, collapsing beside her and pulling Kate into a deep kiss, moaning at the taste. When they broke apart, Yelena was smiling—soft and satisfied. She traced her thumb along Kate's jaw, wiping away some of the wetness there. “You have a very skilled tongue krasavitsa.”
Kate's chest was still heaving as she tried to catch her breath, her mind reeling from everything that had just happened. She looked at Yelena—flushed, disheveled, beautiful—and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.
"That was the hottest thing that's ever happened to me," Kate said, her voice raw and honest. "Like, ever. In my entire life."
“Hmm ever?” Yelena let out a breathless chuckle. “Never had a woman squirt in your mouth before?”
"Never," Kate admitted, still catching her breath. "I've never—I mean, I knew it was a thing, but I've never actually experienced it." She traced her fingers along Yelena's thigh, marveling at the trembling muscles there. "That was incredible."
Yelena kissed her softly, then pulled back with a satisfied smile. "Come on," she said, running her fingers through Kate's hair. "Let's clean you up and try again, hm?"
Kate's eyes widened. "Again?"
"Yes, again." Yelena's smile turned playful as she traced a finger down Kate's chest. "You didn't think we were done, did you? Does this fancy apartment have a shower?"
"I, uh, absolutely have a shower.”
She stood on shaky legs, her body still trembling from the intensity of what they'd just shared, and held out her hand. She led Yelena through the bedroom to the en suite, flicking on the lights as they entered. The space was gorgeous—all white marble and black metal, with a massive mirror stretching across one wall above dual vanities with a wide countertop.
Yelena stopped in the doorway, her eyebrows raising as she took it in. "This is your bathroom?" she asked, incredulous. "Kate, this is bigger than my first apartment."
Kate felt her cheeks heat. "I, um. I renovated it after my promotion. As a treat to myself." She gestured toward the large glass-enclosed shower that dominated the far wall. "The shower was the main thing I wanted to upgrade. Nothing more relaxing than good water pressure right?"
Yelena crossed to the shower, peering inside at the stone bench built into one wall and the three different shower heads positioned at various heights. Her smile turned absolutely sharp as she turned back to Kate.
"Kate Bishop," she said, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that made Kate's stomach flip. "This bathroom was made for sex."
Kate's breath caught. "I—I mean, I didn't exactly plan it that way, but—" She broke off as Yelena stepped closer, backing her against the marble counter. "But I'm not complaining."
Yelena's hands settled on Kate's hips, her touch warm and possessive. "Good," she murmured, leaning up to brush her lips along Kate's jaw. "Because I have many ideas about what I want to do to you in here."
"Ideas?" Kate's voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Li—like what?”
"Mmm." Yelena's eyes darkened as she traced her fingers up Kate's sides. "I haven't been inside you yet, krasavitsa. And I think it's time we fixed that."