"Steve and Lilly practice fighting together and Lilly distracts him on purpose and they get touchy."

Requested by @Ashton_Is_My_God

Warning(s): Very descriptive touchy feely. Not smut, but hot.

Lillian Nightshade may be a well-versed assassin trained by an elite organisation of highly skilled ninjas, but holy shit they did not include super soldier combat in their training regime.

No powers, no weapons – shield included. Lilly knows she's a hell of a fighter, she can't always rely on elemental abilities, and when brought down to a human level, the assassin can hold her own quite well in hand-to-hand combat. Quite well doesn't exactly cut it when your opposition is a super soldier from World War II, unfortunately.

Duck, weave, dodge, roll. Generally, she would try tiring out an opponent bigger and stronger than her, but Lilly scowls in remembrance of how her partner's energy is as long-lasting as the fucking sun. And Steve? Steve is a little too satisfied with that.

"Need a break ma'am? We've been training for a while now," the soldier playfully teases, the only hint towards it being a taunt evident in the miniscule quirk the right corner of his lips do and the entertained spark in his eyes.

Huffing a strand of her short amber hair from her vision irritably, the assassin sends her boyfriend a withering glare, attempting to level her breathing a bit more whilst he enjoys their current circling. "What, you getting sleepy Rogers?"

Steve's hearty laugh seems to put an extra spring into Lilly's step. "Just weighing your odds."

My odds? Right Captain Crunch, no more Miss Nice Assassin, Lilly internally warns, an idea formulating in her head.

The assassin quirks a brow, mockingly aghast at the newfound cockiness in her Captain. "Someone is a little confident. Give the guy a super soldier serum and suddenly he can do anything. Question is..."

She swerves under his jab and cross, using her brief opportunity to slip her working out shirt clean over her head, distancing herself from her opponent and smirking contently at the slight puzzlement directed towards her. ".... can he play dirty?"

Only left in her sports bra and gym pants, Lilly twirls the piece of clothing around in her hands until it's in a whip like shape, grasping the other end of it and yanking both sides away from one another until it's ramrod straight. Steve, ever the gentleman he is, has courteously kept his eyes away from her chest, and due to not being a pubescent school boy but a soldier with extensive military training, is still focused on the fight at hand. But no matter how unreadable and determined he can make himself, Lillian can clearly see the crack in his concentration.

"Try and tie me up with that, and I might tear your shirt."

"It's not the ideal setting I would've like for you to tear my clothes up, but I suppose it will do," she snarks back, watching the crack creep further in his wall of perseverance.

In spite of the shirt acting as a poor substitute for a whip, Steve can still tell that Lillian is no stranger to using one. She has always looked like she's in her element with dual blades or her powers, but the assassin certainly is no amateur with other weapons either.

The Avenger makes one miniscule misstep in his fighting, something he usually recovers from with ease – Lillian, however, takes gross advantage of the once in a blue moon slip up. Wrist snapping out, the fabric of her shirt tightly snares itself around Steve's left ankle, Lilly yanking the fabric back and over her shoulder to for more stability and power in her pull, the super soldier quick to fall flat on his back as a result of losing his footing.

Steve is stronger than Lillian, certainly, and he is quicker on foot, Lillian's reflexes, however? Her ability to sense when a strike is coming straight for her, to be able to feel it in her bones as particles of air are swept aside, even with her air powers gone – for to feel such a thing after so many years isn't something that anyone, Infinity Stones or Thanos, can take away from her – will always be so deeply ingrained within her that Steve knows when the two of them are up close and personal, reflexes and speed will always favour his little assassin.

He blinks and the shirt is unwrapped from around his ankle, Lilly smugly circling him from a respectable distance – not close enough for him to sweep his feet out and send her flying to the ground, not that it would work, she would likely just cartwheel away like always – and swinging the item of clothing around cheerily. "Oh Captain my Captain," she mockingly cries, pouting. "You must stop falling for me. It just looks unprofessional at this rate."

Springing back to his feet, Steve suppresses a grin, attempting to look admonishing. "Training is a serious thing Lilly; never know when we might be in a life or death situation."

Duck, weave, dodge, roll, again. She may struggle to fight him one on one, but that doesn't mean Lillian Nightshade is an easy target to hit. Just barely weaving under another one of his jabs, Lilly twists her shirt sharply again and cheekily snaps it out, slapping him in the ass. When Steve turns around to face her, he appears both startled and mildly disapproving, but the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks further betrays how flustered he is underneath it all.

"Lilly."

"What? If I tap the ass, then I can slap the ass. Ha, someone should put that on a shirt."

Not that I actually tap the ass. God its hard not just jumping his bones and taking things slow sometimes.

The next time the shirt strikes, Steve catches it, throwing Lillian off guard. With an easy tug, he manages to pull her forward in her brief, startled reverie, moving his arm holding the clothing over her head until her own shirt is effectively trapping her against him, the assassin's back to the super soldier's stone sculpted chest.

Contrary to what you readers may have imagined for the past two books, Lillian isn't, in fact, all that tall. Standing at a 5'1" to Steve's 6' has left Lillian feeling rather like a bear is enveloping her in this scenario. Steve's right hand, the one gripping tight to Lilly's shirt, is firmly splayed against her stomach, the shirt scrunched between his forefinger and thumb but the rest of his fingers and palm playing across her bare skin, pressing the assassin against him almost possessively. His left hand is also crossed against her chest, holding onto her waist on the right side.

Lilly didn't exactly think this whole thing through when she decided to take her shirt off. Hell, she thought she'd be the one to distract Rogers with her lack of clothing. She definitely didn't account for the overly distracting and intoxicating feeling of his fingers on her bare skin.

A hot, slightly heavy, deep chuckle tickles the back of Lillian's ear and trickles down her neck, and immediately, she involuntarily responds to it by arching her neck in a way that opens it up to her boyfriend a little more. Christ I hate how submissive this dork can make me, she internally scowls. Not that she's always the submissive one, mind you.

Nose delicately trails along her neck, so gently, so teasingly; it begins to override all thinking and planning going down in her head, Lilly's brain completely turning into a tizzy. She nearly melts into the man. The thumb of the hand crossed over her chest and holding her waist's right side starts tauntingly circling her ribcage, still so goddamn gentle. Every ginger caress always turns Lillian into liquid, for no man has ever been so carefully delicate with her before, so lovingly tender. Not to say the man couldn't be rough, because come on, look at the dude. That super soldier stamina is useful in more than just fighting.

Arching her neck further back, until it rests against his left shoulder comfortably, Steve continues to tease her along her neck, ghosting his lips with soft kisses and chuckling against the small sounds of pleasure rumbling in her throat as a result.

"For someone so stubborn, headstrong and snarky, you're awfully quick to give in to me," the Avenger taunts in amusement, hiding how much he really is revelling in the scent and touch of her. Roses, she always smells like roses and passionfruit. Steve finds it absolutely intoxicating.

As if the words are a reminder of who Lillian Nightshade truly is, the assassin snaps her eyes back open, a playful, impish smirk working its way across her lips. "Mm, two can play at that game Pretty Boy."

SLAM.

Steve, so caught up in everything that is her, loses enough distraction for Lilly to flip him over her, planting him flat on his back once again. This time, whilst he's momentarily startled on the floor, Lillian takes advantage of how his hand is still holding her twisted shirt, forcing his two wrists together and coiling the fabric around them, until she does, in fact, have him tied up in her own shirt like he previously warned her against.

Holding his hands in one hand, she steps over the super soldier lazily, his body lying between her legs as she crouches down to straddle him. Now happily sitting atop his pelvis, the assassin complacently grins like a cat that has gotten to the canary, oh so gently resting her hand atop his laboriously breathing chest. The thin white fabric of the already ridiculously tight shirt barely provides a barrier between Lilly's hand Steve's bare skin underneath, the seams of the clothing protesting against his breathing and generously sized biceps.

He could push her off with ease, but Steve not so secretly revels in Lillian's little displays of possessiveness and dominance. Even on the streets, casually taking a mild stroll, should another woman even remotely utter something akin to a flirt, Lillian will simply pull him down for a long kiss, full well knowing how petty it comes off sometimes. In all fairness, however, Steve isn't any less possessive when another man will look her up and down.

"I remember how you used to make me stumble when we first kissed. Mm, well, I own you now Flag boy," she hums, leaning further down until her own chest is resting against his, her thighs on either side of him, and her lips gingerly peppering Steve's collar bone and neckline of his shirt. The soldier's jaw noticeably tightens, eyes fluttering closed as he represses all of his other instinctual reactions.

Peppered kisses along his collar and neck turn to warm love bites, Lillian beginning to grin against his skin when she feels the rumble of a pleased groan roll along his chest and up his throat. The hand placidly resting atop his chest that had been lovingly massaging the same spot begins to move lower and lower, grazing his side and agonisingly slowly making its way towards his thigh. The further her hand moves down, the further her lips move down, currently having fun with his sculpted chest. "You were saying something about quick to give in, Ste—"

RIIIPPP.

As if it were as flimsy as paper, Steve's wrists tear apart Lillian's shirt with startling ease, and in seconds, with a heated, wanton burning in his eyes, has tightly gripped the assassin's hips and fiercely rolled her over only to slam her against the training mat. His mouth attacks her more urgently than before, more passionately, hungrily.

Sure, when Steve Rogers first starts dating a girl he's all gentle and uncertain and bashful, but after making out a couple times? Lilly has had to stop him from partially undressing her on the Avengers conference table minutes before a meeting has started before, more than once. To the surprise of the assassin, even though he grows uncomfortable around other people's public displays of affection, he finds no qualms in publically displaying his own affection. Lilly just puts it down as another side affect of his subtle possessiveness.

Hissing in satisfaction when Steve's lips make their way from her neck to her chest, Lillian instinctually arches her back off the ground and further into Steve, one of her hands clawing fervently into the mat whilst the other lovingly curls into his hair, giving it a rough pull. Christ the things this man does to her.

"Are you guys really about to have sex on the mat we all train on? Are you serious? Right in front of my salad?"

Groaning in complete and utter frustration, the stares Steve and I send towards Clint Barton, who is quite contently actually munching on a salad in the entrance to the training room, are cold enough to freeze over the sun. Bird boy just smiles chirpily, fully aware of his team mates' annoyance, fully satisfied with himself. "I mean, it's all well and good, but I personally thought Lilly would be the top in the relationshi—"

Throwing her hand out, Barton yelps and narrowly dodges the onslaught of ice coming straight for him, deciding that's his cue to leave as he scampers back down the hall, calling out something along the lines of "Tony! I'm under fire!"

Sharply sighing, Lilly vehemently stares after where Clint disappeared. "Permission to just shoot him right up the ass?"

Steve, who is also irritably staring at where Clint stood moments ago, slightly tilts his head to the side. "I'm considering it."

"If he does that again, you won't be able to stop me."

"If he does that again, I don't think I'll even try."

Thanks for reading and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx

~ T.L