Author's note: This chapter has been moved to the end for the order to make sense, however, the new chapter is actually chapter 29 "6 Natasha", so if you are reading this as an update, don't let the order of things confuse you.

Epilogue

She has a lovely neck. White like milk. Hypnotic eyes, pulling me in like a mosquito to a light trap. Everything about her energy emits the feeling of danger, but it's so delicious I can do nothing to resist. One look. That's all it took for me to fall into the trap and I became helpless. One look from those smokey emerald eyes that dance with cold hearted confidence. She has done this before. She must have. How many men then, have fallen into this silent siren's trap? How many have died at her feet?

I know she has me and I don't care. I've been a very bad boy and perhaps I am about to pay dearly for it, but I must have her. Her hand is cold and surprisingly rougher than I imagined, like she's used them for some sort of physical labor...but that can't be right...she's an aristocrat.

As soon as I am on the verge of coherent thought everything in my mind is erased as that cold hand leads mine to the curve of her ample breasts and she's pressing against me. I kiss her as I squeeze them through her dress and feel dizzy and drunk on her.

"You've been busy." She says in her low, smokey voice into my ear, while breathing her hot breath onto my neck. "Two shipments out this week already."

Wait.My mind suddenly yells. How does she know about that? My conscious mind begins to come crashing back, but it's only pushed down again when her hot, vodka flavored tongue finds my earlobe and a hand runs down my chest to grasp me through my pants. I've never been so hard in my life and her touch is an elegant dance on the threshold between pain and immense pleasure.

"Who is all that plutonium from? Hmm?" Her voice purrs into my ear as her grasp becomes a little tighter around my member and I squeeze harder at those perfect breasts. I want to back her to the wall and push that sparkly evening gown off, but I notice that we're already backed to a wall...only it's me wedged between her soft luscious body and the concrete.

I can't think. At least not about anything but fucking her. I can't- her breath is hot once again at my neck and my eyes begin to roll back a bit. "Lukas Peeters." I groan, my mouth open and panting.

"Good. Good." The siren whispers, running the tightened hand up and down my hard as a rock member through my suit pants once again and caressing my face with her fingernail tips in a way that feels dangerously predatory, but so delicious that I can't think enough to try putting together why. "And what about that contract you have-" she presses herself into me further and I bring my hand to her ass through her dress, gathering the sequined fabric in my fist and squeezing it as I imagine how it will be when it comes off "with the Russians?"

"It will be carried out tomorrow. Please-" I beg, groaning as I try to pull the back of the dress up further so I can get a hand underneath. I must have her. Now. Here. In the bathroom. I don't care. I need to fuck this woman more than I need air. I need-

"Thank you for your cooperation." I hear in a different voice that's cold and clinical and almost sarcastic. It's coming from the same woman, but it takes me a moment to realize this as I'm too distracted by the sudden loss of her breath at my neck, thick red lips at my ear, soft firm breasts under my hand.

I snap my face up to look at the woman who's now backed away several feet in what feels like an impossibly short span of milliseconds. She's looking at something high up, her eyebrows arched and lips twisted into a cocky grin.

What-

Then the thud comes and something red is pouring down my suit front. It's warm and sticky and I look back to the siren one more time as my vision starts to fade to see a muscular blonde man there with her holding a bow as I sink to the tile floor.

"What do you feel like eating tonight?" The gruff man asks, yanking a long, thick arrow back out of my chest and then, throwing a careless arm over the siren's shoulders. It hurts more than any pain I've ever experienced, but only for a split second. Then nothing hurts. Nothing feels...and I am numb.

She shrugs. I was thinking sushi...or maybe waffles."

The man chuckles as they start walking away. "You've been craving weird stuff lately."

The beautiful murderess shrugs once more as my vision fails and the last thing I ever see is her walking away casually from the bathroom.

She is the mistress of death; but it is a beautiful way to die.

The End

So, to answer a few questions I've been PM'd on. This chapter takes place at an undetermined point in the future after they stroll out of S.H.I.E.L.D… at least months after, but possibly up to a couple of years later. Yes, Natasha is pregnant in this chapter. No, Clint has no clue. Yes, Natasha does know…she's not an idiot. And, finally, yes, there is a possibility of a sequel addressing everything from Tony and Pepper's wedding to the baby issue to Steve and Maria's budding relationship if I get enough interest for one (so, if you are interested in reading a sequel, let me know!) Other than that, I hope you enjoyed the story and thanks for reading!