~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warnings: adult content and descriptive sexual scenes.
Summary: Jake and Natasha love to hate each other.. but their complex dynamic finally comes to a head when their lives are put on the line. They quickly find out just how blurred the lines between love and hate actually are.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cockpit was chaos. A missile streaked past Phoenix’s left wing, the heat signature a warning of how close she was to disaster. Her fingers flew over the controls, pulling her F/A-18 into a brutal climb to evade the pursuing aircraft.
"Phoenix, you’ve got a bogey on your six!" Hangman’s voice cut through the comms, sharp and commanding.
She gritted her teeth, her body pressing into the seat as G-forces clawed at her. "I noticed, Seresin. A little help would be nice!"
"Hang tight, Hangman's comin," he shot back, a smirk audible in his tone even in the middle of a firefight.
Her pulse thundered, a mix of adrenaline and frustration. Jake’s bravado was insufferable even now, but damn if he wasn’t good. Within seconds, his jet roared past hers, targeting her pursuer. The explosion was a fiery burst in her rearview, her brief reprieve shattered by an incoming warning.
"Natasha, punch out! Now!" Jake’s voice was no longer teasing. It was raw, panicked in a way she’d never heard before.
She hesitated for half a second— a half a second too long. The missile hit her tail, and the world spun into chaos. Flames, smoke, and the gut-wrenching pull of gravity swallowed her whole.
Hours later, and back on the ship. The wardroom was silent, save for the low hum of the ship’s engines and the occasional shuffle of boots in the corridor outside.
Natasha sat at one of the tables neat the back of the room, her movements stiff, every breath a reminder of her battered ribs and bruised body. She stared at the steaming cup of coffee in front of her, untouched, her mind replaying the chaotic events of the mission.
The forest, the crash, the grueling hours waiting for extraction—all of it was still too fresh. She should have been grateful to be alive, but all she felt was frustration. Frustration at herself, at the mission, and especially at the man currently pacing the length of the room like a caged animal.
Jake "Hangman" Seresin had been silent for too long. Too long for him, anyway. She could feel the weight of his anger simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over. Finally, he stopped, planting his hands on the table and leaning toward her.
"What the hell were you thinking out there?" he demanded, his voice low but no less intense.
Natasha didn’t look up. "I was thinking about staying alive. Clearly, it worked."
"Don’t," he snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Don’t brush this off like it’s nothing. You were down there for hours, Trace. You could’ve died."
She met his gaze then, her eyes hard. "And you think I don’t know that? You think I wasn’t aware of how close I came?"
"That’s not the point!" he shot back, his voice rising. "The point is you didn’t have to get that close in the first place. You could’ve bailed when you had the chance, but no, you had to play the hero."
Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her own frustration bubbling over. "I don’t 'play the hero,' Seresin. That seems to be your job. I did what I had to do up there."
"This isn’t about me," he said, stepping closer. "This is about you, and your damn need to prove something every time you’re in the air. All you had to do was eject. If you would have just listened to me-"
"That's rich coming from you, Hangman," she shot back, her voice trembling with anger. "Why do you care anyways? I survived, didn't I?"
"Because you almost didn't survive." He shouted, his frustration finally spilling over. "Because you took a risk, and I had to watch your bird fall out of the sky! Because I almost fucking lost you today!"
His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Natasha stared at him, her chest heaving, her anger faltering under the weight of his confession. "Jake..."
"You don’t get it, do you?" he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "You drive me absolutely insane, Trace. You make me want to yell, to break something, to walk away, and never look back. But I can’t. I can’t, because somewhere along the line, I stopped hating you. And now I don’t know what the hell to do with myself."
Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to argue, to push him away, but she couldn’t. Because deep down, she felt it too—the pull, the connection she couldn’t explain.
"Jake," she said finally, her voice barely above a cautious whisper. "I don’t know what you want me to say."
"Neither do I," he admitted, his expression softening. "But, maybe if you would stop being so stubborn and learn to trust me a little bit more in the air.. This sort of thing wouldn't happen again." His tone was sharp, as he took a step towards her but the way his eyes softened as his green hues met hers betrayed him.
"That's the thing, Hangman. I can't trust you." Natasha snapped back, hating the way he cornered her. Forced her to face the unspoken thing between them.. especially tonight.
"And can't lose you." He bit back almost angerly. "So you're just going to have to figure it out, Trace. If you can't trust me. Trust that."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, without thinking, she closed the distance between them, her hands fisting in his flight suit as she pulled him down into a kiss. It was fierce and unrelenting, a collision of all the emotions they’d kept bottled up for too long.
Jake responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her as though he was afraid she’d disappear. The kiss was a mess of anger and need, desperation and relief, and when they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
"This doesn’t mean I like you," Natasha said, her voice shaky but defiant.
Jake smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Good. Because I don’t like you either."
"You’re infuriating," she muttered, her fingers still tangled in the fabric of his flight suit. Her lips were swollen, tingling from the force of their clash. "Every damn thing about you makes me want to throw something."
"Likewise," Jake said, his voice rough, his smirk teasing at the edges. "You think I like losing my mind every time you open that smart mouth of yours?"
She pushed him back, creating an inch of space between them, but he didn’t let her go far. His hands stayed firm on her waist, holding her in place.
"So why do you?" she asked, her voice quiet now, the question more vulnerable than she intended.
Jake’s smirk faltered, and for the first time, he looked at her like he didn’t have a ready answer. "Hell if I know," he admitted, his honesty catching her off guard. "But I do. God help me, I do."
Her chest tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn’t supposed to have this kind of power over her. He wasn’t supposed to make her feel anything other than rage. And yet, here they were.
"I hate you," she said softly, but the conviction in her words wavered.
"Good," he replied, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. "Keep hating me, Trace. It makes this so much better."
She didn’t have time to respond before his lips were on hers again, stealing the words from her mouth. This kiss was slower, more deliberate, as though he was daring her to stop him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Her fingers found their way to his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned against her lips, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was dangerous—messy, complicated, and bound to end badly. But right now, in the dimly lit wardroom with Jake’s hands slowly mapping her back, she didn’t care.
"Trace," he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick with want. "You sure about this?"
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I’m not sure about anything," she admitted. "But I know I don’t want to stop."
That was all the confirmation he needed. In one fluid motion, he lifted her onto the table, his hands firm on her hips as he stepped between her legs. The cool metal against her thighs was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body, and the sensation sent a jolt of adrenaline through her.
For once, there were no words, no arguments or biting remarks. Just the unspoken understanding that this moment, however fleeting, was theirs.
Jake’s hands slid over her thighs, his touch firm yet cautious, as if he was testing how far she’d let him go. Natasha answered by tugging him closer, her legs wrapping around his hips to erase what little distance remained. The tension between them was thick, charged, and she could feel the unsteady rhythm of his breathing against her chest.
"You drive me insane," he muttered, his lips tracing the curve of her neck. The words were muffled, but she caught them, and they sent a thrill racing through her.
"Good," she whispered, her hands threading through his hair.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against her skin, before his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below her jaw. She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, and the reaction seemed to spur him on. His mouth traveled lower, kissing and biting a path down her collarbone while his hands gripped her hips with bruising intensity.
The metal table beneath her creaked slightly as she shifted, the cool surface still a stark contrast to the heat building between them. Her flight suit hung loosely to her form, her undershirt clinging to her damp skin. Jake’s hands found the zipper, and he paused, his gaze flicking up to meet hers.
"Say the word, Trace," he said, his voice rough, his fingers hovering over the fabric. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
The vulnerability in his eyes, the way he held himself back even now, made her chest ache in a way she wasn’t ready to examine. But she didn’t want him to stop. Not now, not when the walls between them were finally coming down.
"I don’t want you to stop," she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beat of her heart.
That was all he needed. With one smooth motion, he tugged the zipper down, his hands skimming over her shoulders and down her sides as he peeled the suit away. The cool air against her skin made her shiver, but Jake’s hands were warm, grounding her as he leaned in to kiss her again.
This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, as though he was savoring the moment. His hands explored her body with a mixture of confidence and reverence, mapping every curve and hollow like he was committing her to memory. She responded in kind, her hands sliding over his chest as she unzipped his flightsuit, her nails grazing the hard planes of his shoulders as she pushed the fabric away.
For once, there was no room for hate, no room for the walls they’d built to protect themselves. There was only the raw, unfiltered connection they’d been too afraid to acknowledge, and in this moment, it was enough.
Jake’s hands roamed with purpose, his touch igniting trails of fire along Natasha’s skin. Her undershirt was quickly discarded as he pulled it over her head and troped it next to him on the floor, leaving her vulnerable under the wardroom’s dim lighting. His gaze lingered, drinking her in with an intensity that made her pulse race.
"You’re gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Shut up, Seresin," she shot back, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
But her protest faltered when his lips found her shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone and down to the swell of her chest. His hands slid behind her, skilled fingers unclasping her bra with the kind of confidence that made her roll her eyes even as her breath hitched.
"Show-off," she muttered, her voice unsteady.
Jake smirked against her skin. "Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t."
His mouth descended again, this time more deliberate, more focused. Natasha arched against him, her hands sliding beneath his shirt to feel the heat of his skin. The ridges of muscle beneath her fingers sent a thrill through her, and she tugged impatiently at the fabric.
"Off," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Jake leaned back just enough to comply, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Natasha took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of her—the sharp lines of his body, the faint scars that told stories she’d never asked about. Her fingers trailed down his chest, eliciting a sharp inhale from him, before she pulled him back down to her.
The kiss they shared now was different. It was still heated, still urgent, but there was something deeper beneath the surface—something neither of them dared name. Jake’s hands gripped her waist, lifting her just enough to settle her fully on the edge of the table. The shift in position brought them impossibly closer, and Natasha gasped as his hips pressed against hers.
Her legs tightened around him instinctively, drawing a low groan from his throat. "Natasha," he breathed, her name a plea and a promise all at once.
"Don’t stop," she whispered, her voice laced with need.
Jake’s hands moved to the waistband of her flight suit, sliding the fabric down her legs with agonizing slowness. He dropped it to the floor, his palms skimming back up her thighs as he kissed her again, deeper this time. His fingers teased at the edge of her underwear, his movements deliberate, testing her boundaries.
"Jake," she said, her voice sharp with impatience.
His lips curved against her ear. "Patience, Trace."
"Since when are you patient?" she shot back, her tone dripping with exasperation.
He chuckled, the sound low and wicked. "Since you started making me work for it."
With that, his hands slipped beneath the fabric, tugging her underwear away in one smooth motion. Natasha’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. He explored her with practiced ease, his movements both teasing and precise, leaving her gasping and clinging to his shoulders.
"Still want me to shut up?" he asked, his tone laced with smugness.
Natasha glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the way her body arched into his touch. "God, I hate you."
"You keep saying that," he said, his voice softening as he leaned in to kiss her again. "But I think we both know it’s not true."
She didn’t have an answer for that—not one she was ready to give, anyway. Instead, she let herself get lost in him, in the heat and the chaos of their collision. For once, she let go of the anger and the fear and allowed herself to feel everything he was offering.
Jake’s lips never left hers as he deepened their connection, his hands moving with purpose and precision. Every touch was deliberate, every movement a careful blend of power and tenderness that had Natasha trembling beneath him. She clawed at his back, her nails leaving faint red trails along his skin, but he didn’t falter—in fact, he seemed to thrive on it.
"You're impossible," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.
"And you're irresistible," he shot back, his words muffled against her neck as he kissed her there, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver through her.
He moved to grip her hips firmly, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above her thighs as he adjusted her position on the table. The metal creaked beneath her, a sharp reminder of their precarious setting, but neither of them cared. All that mattered now was the way their bodies fit together, the heat building between them like a storm.
Natasha’s hands found their way to the waistband of his flight suit, her fingers working quickly to undo the rest of the zipper. She pushed them down just far enough to free him, her touch eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jake. His head fell forward, his forehead resting against hers as he exhaled slowly.
"You're playing with fire," he murmured, his voice strained but laced with amusement.
"Good," she replied, her lips curving into a smirk. "Burn with me."
Jake’s laugh was low and breathless, but it was cut off as Natasha shifted her hips, aligning them in a way that had him groaning deeply. His hands slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as he moved, the first press of their bodies drawing a gasp from both of them.
It was a slow, deliberate rhythm at first, each movement measured as they adjusted to each other. But the tension between them—months, maybe years of unspoken feelings and unresolved arguments—was too much to contain. Their pace quickened, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through Natasha’s body as she clung to him.
Jake’s lips found hers again, their kiss messy and desperate, a reflection of the fire that consumed them both. His hands gripped her tighter, anchoring her as she tilted her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips. He took the opportunity to kiss the line of her throat, his teeth scraping just enough to leave marks she’d have to explain later.
"Jake," she gasped, her voice breaking as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed her.
"I’ve got you," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. "Let go. I’ve got you, Natasha."
Her name on his lips sent a rush of heat through her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Their movements became more frantic, the sound of their shared breaths and the creak of the table filling the room. Every nerve in her body felt alive, every touch, every kiss pushing her closer to the edge.
When she finally shattered, it was with his name on her lips, her body arching against his as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Jake followed moments later, his grip on her tightening as he buried his face in her neck, his ragged breathing matching hers.
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the ship’s engines and their labored breaths. Jake’s hands stroked her back gently, his touch grounding her as they came down from the high together. She rested her forehead against his, her fingers trailing along his shoulders.
"That was..." she began, her voice hoarse.
"Yeah," he replied, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, almost tender kiss. "It was."
Neither of them said anything else as they slowly untangled themselves, the weight of what just happened settling over them like a heavy blanket. Jake helped her down from the table, his hands lingering on her waist as if he wasn’t ready to let her go.
Natasha met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "This doesn’t change anything," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.
"Sure it doesn’t," Jake replied, his smirk returning, though there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. "Whatever you say, Trace."
As she began to gather her clothes, Jake leaned against the table, watching her with a mix of amusement and something deeper—something neither of them was ready to name.
Natasha sat in her bunk hours later, staring at the dull metal wall in front of her. She still felt the lingering heat of Jake’s touch, the bruises his lips had left on her skin, but the thrill of their encounter was quickly giving way to a tidal wave of confusion.
How had she let this happen?
Her mind raced with questions she couldn’t answer. She hated Jake—or at least she told herself she did. But now, the memory of his whispered words, the way he’d held her like she was something precious, wouldn’t stop replaying in her mind.
A soft knock at her door broke her reverie. She didn’t need to ask who it was; she already knew.
“Come in,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.
Jake stepped inside, his confident swagger muted, his expression unreadable. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“You doing okay, Trace?” he asked, his voice softer than she’d expected.
She hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I’m fine,” she said curtly.
He didn’t buy it. “Look, I know that wasn’t exactly... planned,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m not sorry it happened.”
Natasha’s eyes snapped to his, her heart pounding. “You’re not?”
Jake shook his head. “I can’t be. Not when it’s you.”
The weight of his words settled over her, and for a moment, she let herself believe them. But then the reality of their situation crashed back down.
“This can’t happen again,” she said, her voice trembling.
He stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both,” she said, though the conviction in her voice wavered.
Jake studied her for a moment, then nodded. “If that’s what you want, I’ll respect it. But don’t lie to yourself, Natasha. We both know there’s something here.”
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “For what it’s worth,” he said, glancing back at her, “you’re not the only one trying to figure this out.”
The door closed softly behind him, leaving Natasha alone with her thoughts—and the undeniable truth he’d just voiced.
She stared at the closed door long after Jake had left, his parting words replaying in her mind. You’re not the only one trying to figure this out.
She hated how much they resonated with her.
Sliding down onto her bunk, she pressed her hands to her face, as though she could block out the emotions swirling inside her. Anger, desire, fear—it was all there, tangled together in a chaotic knot she couldn’t untangle.
She hadn’t lied when she said it couldn’t happen again. What they’d done was reckless, dangerous even. Not because of the act itself, but because of what it meant. What it could mean. If she admitted that there was something more between them, it would change everything.
And change scared her more than she cared to admit. More than that, she knew what they stood to lose if this continued.
The next few days passed in a haze of avoidance. Natasha threw herself into her work, barely sparing Jake a glance when their paths crossed. He didn’t push her, didn’t try to corner her with sly comments or knowing smirks. Instead, he gave her space, though she could feel his eyes on her whenever she was in the room.
It wasn’t until a late-night training session in the simulator that everything came to a head.
The ship’s corridors were empty, the hum of machinery the only sound as Natasha made her way to the training bay. She needed the distraction, the chance to clear her mind with precision drills and maneuvers. But when she arrived, she found the bay already occupied.
Jake stood by one of the simulators, his flight suit unzipped to his waist, his undershirt clinging to his chest. He glanced up as she entered, his expression unreadable.
“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he said, his tone light.
Natasha hesitated, torn between retreating and confronting the tension that had been building since their encounter. Finally, she stepped forward, keeping her voice steady. “Figured I’d put in some extra hours.”
He nodded, stepping aside to let her set up the simulator. She slid into the seat, the familiar hum of the machine calming her nerves. Jake leaned against the console, watching her work.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm.
She froze, her hands hovering over the controls. “I’ve been busy,” she said, not looking at him.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his tone sharpening. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his. “What do you want me to say, Jake? That I regret what happened? That it was a mistake?”
“Do you?” he asked, his gaze steady.
She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Because the truth—the one she wasn’t ready to admit—was that she didn’t regret it. Not even a little.
Jake took a step closer, his voice softening. “You don’t have to say anything, Natasha. I know you’re scared. Hell, I am too. But whatever this is between us, it’s not going away.”
She looked away, her throat tight. “It can’t happen again,” she whispered.
“Why not?” he asked, his tone gentle but insistent. “Because you think it’ll mess with your head? Or because you’re afraid of what it means?”
“Both.” she snapped, her voice cracking. “Because if I let myself feel this, do this—if I let you in—it’s going to ruin everything. Do you know what this could do to our careers?”
Jake paused his lips, pursing as though he hadn't yet considered that complication. “We're already part of different squadrons,” he tries to justify. “Besides, we're on loan out here because we're the best pilots they have. They won't split us up.”
"There's always a better pilots." She snaps, her tone harsher than she intended. "We're not irreplaceable. I don't want want to lose my spot on this team over a fling with my wingman."
"Is that what you think that was to me? A fling?" Jake asks his eyes steely, and his town eerily steady given the insults she just hurled at him.
She just stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Well, wasn't it?" She asks with a snippy tone.
"No, Natasha, it wasn't." For a moment, his eyes held a vulnerability that she didn't expect to see. His hand slowly reached for hers, covering it against the controls of the simulator. "Nothing that could ever happen between us could ever be considered a fling." His tone was stead, and it held a softness that made her heart flutter. For a moment, she considered taking the leap, letting herself believe in the possibility he was offering.
But then the weight of her fears- no reality - came crashing back.
"I can't," she said, pulling her hand away. "I just... I can't."
Jake’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, stepping back. "Okay," he said, his voice laced with disappointment. "But I’m not giving up on you, Natasha. Not now, not ever.”
He turned to walked away, and her voice carred across the room. "I'm not going to risking my career, my team over this, Jake." But was no real edge to her voice this time. Instead, she just sounded tired.
Jake stopped momentarly, he didnt turn around he just stopped. His head tilting twards his shoulder slightly before he spoke, his voice rough but soft at the same time. "I never asked you to."
With that, he was gone faster than natasha could turn in her seat to steal a glance at him. Her mind wanted to scream at him, ask him what that was supposed to mean, tell him that he was asking her to risk it all. That he was being a selfish prick for putting her in this situation, but her heart knew exactly what he meant, and it made her stomach drop. And that, that left her wondering if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
The weeks that followed were a blur of routine missions, drills, and the careful dance Natasha and Jake had mastered—an equilibrium of avoidance and banter that kept the worst of their tension at bay. But everything shifted the day their latest assignment took an unexpected turn.
It was supposed to be simple—a reconnaissance flight over neutral territory. Intel suggested minimal enemy activity, just a routine patrol to monitor the airspace. Jake, ever confident, had cracked jokes during the briefing, earning eye rolls and groans from the squad. Natasha had been her usual sharp self, keeping her responses curt and professional.
But by the time they were airborne, Natasha couldn’t shake the unease crawling up her spine.
"Phoenix, you’re awfully quiet over there," Jake’s voice crackled through the comms.
"Maybe I’m enjoying the silence for once," she shot back, keeping her tone light despite her growing tension.
"Careful, Trace. You might hurt my feelings," he replied with a smirk audible in his voice.
Her retort died on her lips when her radar lit up. A split second later, Jake’s voice changed, all joking gone. "Phoenix, we've got company. Two bogeys, 3 o’clock."
"I see them." She uttered back, her grip tightening on the controls. "Let's get some distance and regroup."
They didn't get the chance.
What followed was a chaos of maneuvers and counter-maneuvers as the enemy jets closed in. The enemy jets were relentless, pressing hard before Natasha and Jake could coordinate an effective response. They were far more aggressive than either of tham had anticipated. Natasha’s focus narrowed, her world shrinking to the cockpit, the controls, and Jake’s voice in her ear as they worked together to outfly their pursuers. But the enemy pilots were skilled. Jake looped into a tight turn to shake one off his tail.
“Hangman, on your six!” Natasha called, spotting an enemy jet locking onto Jake’s tail.
“Got it,” he replied, rolling sharply to shake the pursuer.
Natasha swung around to cover him, her heart hammering as she spotted the glint of tracer rounds slicing through the air. Jake’s plane shuddered under the impact, and her stomach dropped when she saw smoke trailing from his left wing.
It was then when she saw it. Smoke, bellowing from the back of a missile as it was launched toward the tail end of his aircraft.
“Smoke in the air!” she yelled, her voice sharp with panic. "Break left!"
He didn't even respond to her as his jet swong left.
Without hesitation, Natasha dove into action, positioning herself between Jake and the missile. Her flares shot out in a brilliant cascade, pulling the missile off course at the last second. The explosion rocked her jet, but she held steady, her heart pounding.
“Hangman, get the hell out of there!” she barked, even as she swung back around to cover him.
"Working on it." Jake gritted out, his voice tense as his jet shittered.
Natasha covered his retreat, weaving through the chaos to keep the enemy off his six. The final jet broke off, retreating into the distance, but not before another burst of gunfire sprayed the air.
Natasha felt the dull thud of impacts against her fuselage, but the controls remained steady. She barely registered it, her focus entirely on getting the two of them back on deck. As she flew up next to him, her sharp eyes surveying the damage.. bullet holes riddled his left wing, and smoke still trailed faintly from the side of his fuselage.
"Jake, report," she demanded, her voice clipped.
"I'm fine," he said, though the strain in his voice told her otherwise.
“You’re hit.” she barked, keeping her tone controlled despite the spike of adrenaline.
“Just a love tap,” he quipped, though his voice was tight.
Natasha clenched her jaw, fury and fear warring within her.“Get your ass back to the ship, Seresin. Now.”
"You're bossy after a dog fight, you know that?" He noted humorously in return as he looked at her through the sode of his cockpit, his voice holding his usual teasing tone now.
“Just shut up and land what's left of your jet, Hangman.” She growled at him, pulled back to give him space, and allowed him to land first.
Natasha vaulted out of her jet as soon as it rolled to a stop, her boots hitting the deck hard. The mission had gone sideways, and her mind was still running on high alert. She barely glanced at her plane as the ground crew began inspecting it for damage. The bullet holes along the fuselage were obvious, but the systems had held steady.
Her eyes locked on Jake’s jet across the hangar. Smoke still trailed faintly from the wing, and as Jake climbed down the ladder, she caught sight of the blood staining his flight suit near his arm.
“Hangman!” she called, her tone sharp.
He turned, flashing her a lopsided grin as if he hadn’t just limped back from a firefight. “Well, if it isn’t my guardian angel.”
Natasha stalked toward him, her eyes narrowing. “Guardian angel? You’re lucky you didn’t go down in flames. And what the hell is that?” She gestured to the blood on his arm.
Jake glanced down, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, this? Just a love tap. Didn’t even feel it.”
“Didn’t feel it?” she echoed, stopping just short of grabbing him by the collar. “Jake, your jet looks like swish cheese, and you’re bleeding all over the damn deck. How can you joke about this?”
He shrugged, his smirk firmly in place. “What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”
“Charm?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “The only thing charming about you is how you manage to survive despite being a complete idiot.” she snapped. Her jaw clenched as she stepped closer, her voice low and sharp. “This isn’t a game, Seresin. You were one second away from not coming back, and all you can do is crack jokes?”
“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” he replied, his tone calm but firm.
Natasha scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. “You weren’t going to let that happen? Are you serious right now?”
“What?” he asked, his brows knitting together in genuine confusion.
“You don’t get to just decide that, Jake,” she snapped, throwing her arms out. “You don’t control every bullet in the sky, and you sure as hell can’t outfly a missile if it’s got your name on it.”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t act like you’re invincible, like sheer willpower is enough to keep you alive. I’ve been there, Jake. I’ve lived it, and guess what? It doesn’t work like that.”
Her voice cracked at the edges, and she hated the way it betrayed her. She turned away, pacing a few steps to force herself to calm down.
Jake’s voice was quieter now, his usual bravado subdued. “You’re talking about the crash.”
She spun back around, the memory of the forest, the flames, and the helplessness twisting in her gut. “Yeah, Jake. I’m talking about the crash. I didn’t decide to go down. I didn’t ‘let’ it happen. It happened because sometimes, it’s out of our control.”
Jake stepped closer, his voice dropping. “No, you didn’t. But I told you to eject that day, Natasha. I told you to get the hell out of there, and you didn’t listen.”
Her jaw tightened, the words hitting like a punch to the chest. “You think I don’t know that?”
“You hesitated,” he said, his voice low and full of frustration. “You stayed too long, and it almost got you killed. You think I don’t see that every time I close my eyes?”
Her stomach twisted, a cocktail of guilt and anger surging to the surface. “You think I wanted that to happen? You think I didn’t hear you yelling at me to punch out? I heard you, Jake.”
"Then why the hell didn’t you?" he demanded, his voice louder now. "I had your back, but you—"
“I hesitated!” she cut him off, the words sharp and biting. “I hesitated that day, Jake. And you don’t get to throw it in my face like I didn’t know exactly what could’ve happened.”
Jake froze, his chest rising and falling as he stared at her.
“I thought I had time, I thought I could fix it,” Natasha continued, her voice cracking slightly before she forced it steady. “I thought I could pull it off, and then it was too late.”
His brows furrowed, his frustration shifting into something softer, something heavier.
Natasha’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “What if I’d hesitated today, huh? What if I hadn’t been there for you? Do you even get how close you were to—”
“Natasha,” Jake interrupted, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He reached for her, his hand settling against her arm, but she didn’t pull away.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, her breath hitching. “Don’t even try to calm me down, Jake. I’m still mad at you.”
“Good,” he said, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Be mad at me. At least you’re talking to me.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I am mad at you. Do you have any idea how close you came to not coming back from that mission today?"
“I came,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“But you could not have,” she pressed, her gaze locked on his. “You keep flying like nothing can touch you, like it’s all just a game. And one day, it’s not going to matter how good you are, Jake. One day, you’re going to be out of time.”
The silence that followed was thick and heavy, the weight of her words hanging between them.
Jake looked at her, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. “I trusted you up there,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.
“And I trusted you to not be an idiot,” she snapped, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
“Damn it, Natasha,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t think about this every time we go up?”
She stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I think you act like you’ve got nothing to lose.”
Jake’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. They stood there, the air between them charged, their breaths mingling in the narrow space that separated them. Natasha’s chest heaved, her heart pounding against her ribs, and she hated how much she needed to feel him, to know he was really here, alive and whole.
Jake’s hand slid up, his fingers brushing her cheek as his expression softened further. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice genuine in a way that made her chest ache.
And then, like a match striking, the tension snapped.
Before she could overthink it, before she could pull back and put the walls back up, she closed the distance between them, her lips crashing into his.
Jake didn’t hesitate. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his lips firm and desperate against hers. Natasha’s fingers tangled in the front of his flight suit, holding on tightly, as if letting go wasn’t an option.
When they finally broke apart for air, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.
Jake’s voice was low and rough, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “Natasha…”
“Don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly. “Don’t ruin it by talking.”
“Come on,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with something deeper.
Jake’s hand slid down to her wrist, his touch firm but not rough, and he turned, pulling her with him. They walked quickly across the deck, not speaking, not looking at anyone. The hum of the ship and the murmur of the crew were distant, irrelevant.
She followed him, her adrenaline-fueled haze guiding her as they navigated the narrow halls of the ship. By the time they reached his quarters, the weight of what they were doing started to settle in, but the moment Jake turned to her, his eyes dark with want, all hesitation vanished.
The door slammed shut behind them as Natasha surged forward, grabbing the front of Jake's flight suit and pulling him into a heated kiss. Her fingers fumbled with his zipper, her urgency palpable as her lips claimed his with a mix of anger and need. Jake grinned against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to mutter, “Impatient, are we?”
“Shut up, Seresin,” she snapped, her voice low and breathless, her hands still tugging at his suit.
Jake chuckled, his hands settling on her hips as he looked down at her with a glint of amusement in his green eyes. “If you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was ask.”
Natasha glared at him, her lips crashing into his again, silencing whatever smug remark he had lined up next. Jake groaned, the sound reverberating in his chest as he kissed her back with equal fervor. His hands slid to the zipper of her flight suit, tugging it down slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the way her breath hitched in anticipation.
“Let me,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled the suit open just enough to expose her undershirt and the curve of her hips. His hands roamed over her skin, his touch firm and possessive as he hoisted her up against the wall. Natasha gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her arms looping around his neck as her body pressed flush against his.
Jake’s lips trailed down her jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear as his hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady. “You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as his fingers slid beneath the edge of her underwear. He found her wet and ready, and his low groan sent a shiver through her.
“Jake,” Natasha breathed, her nails scraping lightly against the back of his neck as he teased her, his fingers gliding along her folds with deliberate slowness. She arched against him, her hips rocking forward in search of more.
“God, Nat,” he murmured, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. With one hand still supporting her, he freed himself, the rough material of his flight suit adding to the friction as he adjusted their positions.
There was nothing gentle about the way he entered her, his hips snapping forward in one swift motion that left Natasha gasping against his mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he began to move, his pace hard and fast, their bodies slamming together with an intensity that left them both breathless.
Natasha’s head tipped back against the wall, her lips parted as Jake’s name spilled from her in a series of breathless moans. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he buried himself in her over and over again. The tight, confined space of the room only seemed to heighten the tension between them.
Jake’s forehead rested against hers, his green eyes blazing as he watched her, every thrust drawing a new, needy sound from her lips. “Fuck, Nat,” he rasped, his voice strained as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge.
The only response he got out of her was her raggid breath, her words failing her as her body clenched around him, the heat and pressure building to an unbearable peak. She dug her heels into his back, pulling him even closer as she cried out, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave. Jake followed moments later, his grip on her tightening as his hips stuttered against hers, a groan tearing from his throat as he found his own release.
They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, their breathing harsh and uneven as they came down from the high. Jake’s hands loosened their grip on her thighs, but he didn’t let her go, his arms wrapping around her in a way that was almost protective.
Jake sighed as the intensity ebbed, his forehead still pressed to Natasha’s as their ragged breathing began to slow. He kissed her gently, almost reverently, before slipping out of her and easing her legs back down. With care, he set her on the edge of the cot, taking a moment to adjust himself.
He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss before murmuring, “Let me help.” Without waiting for a response, he crouched in front of her, his fingers deftly unlacing her boots. Natasha watched him, her lips quirking in a faint smirk as he tugged them off one by one, setting them aside with surprising tenderness.
“Jake Seresin, playing house,” she teased softly, her voice still laced with the aftermath of their shared high.
Jake looked up at her, a crooked grin on his face. “Don’t get used to it, Trace. I’m only doing this because you were too impatient to take your suit off.”
Her scoff was sharp, though the light flush in her cheeks betrayed her. “Don’t act like you weren’t just as impatient.”
He chuckled as he unlaced his own boots, toeing them off before standing and shrugging out of his flight suit. When he turned back to her, Natasha was doing the same, but he stopped her with a hand on hers. “I’ve got it,” he said, his tone low but soft.
She let him, watching as he slid the thin fabric off her shoulders. His fingers brushed her skin as he worked, and she shivered at the touch, though she refused to acknowledge it. When the suit pooled around her waist, she helped him tug it the rest of the way off, leaving her in her undershirt and underwear.
Jake stepped out of his own suit completely before sitting beside her on the cot. He pulled her closer, his hand slipping to the back of her neck as he kissed her again, slower this time. The kiss deepened, his hand tracing the curve of her spine as he guided her back onto the cot. He covered her body with his, the weight of him grounding her in a way she didn’t realize she needed.
When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, his green eyes meeting hers in the dim light. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice lacking its usual bravado.
Natasha nodded, her fingers brushing through his hair as she gave him a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Jake shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him so that she was draped across his chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he stared up at the ceiling. “You scared me today,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Natasha propped herself up on one elbow, her brow arching as she looked down at him. “I scared you? You scared me today, Seresin. What the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?”
Jake shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “Thinking I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s not how this works, Seresin. You don't get to throw me under the bus here."
"Don't I, though?" He asked with a smirk. Though it held more than teasing.
"You’re exhausting." She utters before rolling her eyes and falling back against his chest.
Jake’s smirk grew wider at her words, a playful gleam lighting his gaze. “Exhausting, huh?” he said, his tone light but laced with intent. “You have no idea, little bird.”
Before she could retort, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened. Natasha responded instinctively, her hands threading into his hair as the intensity grew between them. Jake’s hands slid to her waist, drawing her closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to let her catch her breath, his green eyes meeting hers. “You’ve got a lot to say, Phoenix,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along her jawline. “But I think I can change that.”
Natasha barely had time to process his words before his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, eliciting a sharp inhale from her. His hands moved with deliberate precision, tugging her undershirt up and over her head, exposing her bare skin to his touch. The cool air hit her for only a moment before Jake’s hands and lips claimed her, his movements unhurried and thorough, as though savoring every second.
Her bra followed, discarded onto the floor as Jake’s hands explored her newly exposed skin, his palms warm and firm against her. He kissed his way down her neck, each scrape of his teeth and press of his lips sending jolts of sensation through her. Natasha shuddered under his touch, her hands finding their way to the front of his shirt. She tugged at it with a newfound urgency before he let her pull it over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
Jake chuckled softly against her collarbone, “Still impatient, I see,” he teased, his voice low and teasing.
“Shut up and keep going,” Natasha snapped, though her voice was breathy, lacking its usual bite.
Jake smirked but obliged, his hand slipping over the material of her underwear. He teased her, his fingers gliding along her folds over the fabric before pressing lightly against her clit. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping his shoulders as he worked her with an infuriatingly slow precision.
When she moved to hasten his actions, Jake caught her wrists, pinning them gently above her head as he leaned in. “Not this time,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers. “We’re doing this my way.”
Jake slid her underwear down her legs with deliberate slowness, his green eyes never leaving hers as he discarded the fabric onto the floor. Natasha's breath hitched as he spread her thighs, his hands warm and firm as they slid up her skin. He paused, his fingers tracing her folds without entering, teasing her with the barest pressure that made her hips shift involuntarily toward him.
"Jake," she whispered, her tone already tinged with frustration.
“Patience,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Before she could respond, his fingers slid inside her, slow and precise, stretching her just enough to make her gasp. His thumb brushed against her clit in maddeningly light circles, complementing the steady rhythm of his fingers as they curled and stroked within her. Natasha’s breath hitched, her head falling back as her hands gripped at his shoulders for purchase.
Jake watched her intently, his free hand sliding up to grip her waist, grounding her as he worked her with the kind of mastery that only came from knowing exactly how to unravel her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You feel so good, Nat.”
The words sent a shiver through her, her body tightening as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Her breathing quickened, and a moan slipped past her lips, her hips rising to meet the rhythm of his hand. Just as her release hovered on the precipice, Jake pulled back, his fingers leaving her in an instant that made her cry out in protest.
“Damn it, Jake!” she snapped, her voice breathless but laced with frustration.
He grinned, his thumb brushing against the inside of her thigh. “Don’t look at me like that,” he teased. “You’re the one who said I’m exhausting.”
Natasha glared at him, her cheeks flushed and her body trembling with unspent need. “You’re infuriating.”
Jake leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was almost soft before he moved down her body. His lips left a trail of fire as they made their way down her neck and chest, pausing briefly to nip at the sensitive skin above her heart. Natasha’s hands found their way into his hair, her fingers tugging lightly as her frustration mixed with growing desperation.
When his lips reached the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, she tensed, anticipation coiling tightly within her. Jake kissed his way up, slow and deliberate, his hands sliding down to part her legs even further. He hovered for a moment, his breath hot against her center, before his tongue finally flicked out to tease her clit.
Natasha gasped, her back arching as his mouth worked her with the same calculated precision as his hands had moments before. Each flick of his tongue and press of his lips sent jolts of pleasure through her, building her up all over again. Just as she reached the cusp, her body trembling with the promise of release, Jake pulled back once more, leaving her teetering on the edge.
“Jake!” she hissed, her voice desperate and tinged with a mix of anger and longing.
He chuckled, his hands trailing up her thighs as he leaned back on his heels to look at her. “Still impatient,” he teased, his grin maddeningly smug.
Natasha’s glare was withering, but the way she shifted toward him betrayed her need. “If you don’t—”
“Relax,” Jake interrupted, leaning back over her and pressing a kiss to her lips that silenced whatever threat she had been about to make. “I’ve got you.”
This time, he didn’t stop. He continued teasing her with his mouth, bringing her closer and closer until she was trembling uncontrollably beneath him. Her fingers clutched at his hair, her moans spilling freely as he pushed her to the edge and finally, mercifully, let her fall over it. Her release hit her like a wave, her body tightening and quaking as her cries echoed softly in the small room.
Jake kissed his way back up her body, his hands sliding up her sides as he shifted her hips to align with his. His lips met hers as he slowly pressed into her, his strokes deliberate and deep, drawing a soft moan from her as he filled her completely. Every touch, every movement was slow and measured, his hands mapping her body as though he were memorizing every inch of her.
Natasha’s hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he drove her to the edge again and again, only to hold her there. The frustration and desperation that had simmered earlier returned, her breath hitching as she gasped his name.
“Jake, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
He finally relented, his rhythm changing just enough to tip her over the edge again, her release washing over her as she cried out his name. He followed moments later, his body tensing as he buried himself in her one last time, his groan muffled against her neck.
When it was over, Natasha lay against him, her body spent and trembling. Jake wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as his lips pressed to her temple. “Still exhausting?” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement.
Natasha didn’t respond, too breathless to muster a retort. Her silence was answer enough, and Jake’s soft chuckle vibrated against her skin. He didn’t push further, content to hold her as the exhaustion of the night finally claimed them both.
yousharknotpass
jimmyeatworldofficial
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
amandla
titsay
romaincrisis
