"And what if I don't want to meet you after this?" Natasha wrote slowly. She could feel eyes on her watching her every move. Steve didn't even look down at the paper. His were straight forward, looking at Secretary Ross.

"Thank you for your time, Avengers. I hope that you'll all come to a consensus and support this accord." Ross said sounding a little rehearsed.

Secretary Ross left the room and Tony walked over to Steve and Natasha. "I'm sensing some tensions between the two of you." Tony said with a smile, "did Natasha tell you how she's signing the accords?"

"Tony!" Natasha said, her voice straining a little.

"What? You're signing the accords, seriously?" Steve said more hurt then mad.

"Was I not supposed to say that? Well he was going to find out eventually." Tony said defensively.

Steve turned to Natasha, "You and I," he said lowly, "are still having a discussion when this over."

She glared at him.  Bring it.

Natasha made her way out into a secluded hall where she met Steve. "We doing this now?" she coolly taunted.  "Having your discussion?"

"Damn right," Steve returned evenly.

She arched an eyebrow.  "Here?"

"Well, it'd only be fair," he replied, "given how you embarrassed me in there." A couple of agents walked past them and stared.

Her eyes flashed and her jaw clenched and she thought yet again for a second she might hit him.  She didn't, though. "You don't tell me what to do, Rogers."

Before she even knew what was happening, he was grabbing her arm.  His fingers were like iron around her wrist, and he was dragging her across the hall. She flushed with embarrassment anew, struggling to keep up so it didn't look so obvious that she was being summarily hauled off by her boyfriend.  On the opposite side of the busy area, there were a few empty meeting rooms.  He made his way to one, not stopping, not letting her go.  He flung the door open, pushed her inside, and slammed it shut behind him.

He plunged his tongue inside her mouth. She grabbed his shirt and ripping. Buttons went flying, scattering through the room, and her mouth went straight to the expanse of perfect skin before her.  She kissed hard at his throat, dragging her teeth over his Adam's apple, going for the places she knew drove him wild.  Her lips attached to the skin of his collarbone, sucking and then licking the mark she'd left, and her hands went to the rippling muscles of his abdomen, staking her claim with her nails.  She drove her hips down onto his.  Now he was the one who was squirming uselessly, hands trapped behind him, panting hard and shaking with equal parts anger and arousal.  She painted a flurry of quick, almost harsh kisses on his chest, leaving his pecs and abs wet and glistening.  Then she pinned him against the wall.

It didn't take much to get his jeans open, to unbutton them and unzip them and get a hand on him.  He was achingly hard.  And hot.  And furious.  "No," he groaned.  "You don't get to..."  She swiped her hand up from the base of his erection as much as she could in the confines of his (now tight) pants, squeezing and twisting as she did. 

"Tell me you're sorry" She squeezed hard, stroked harder, watching his eyes flash in frustration.  "Tell me."

"Get off me," he snapped.

"Make me," she replied

He made her.  He finally got his wits about him enough to untangle his arms, whipping his left up to send his jacket flying.  It happened so fast that she couldn't stop him.  He grabbed her rear, lifting her against him so firmly it punched a cry from her lips.  She had no choice but to wrap her arms around him and her legs around his hips as he carried her across the room, staggering with his bad leg but refusing to fall.  He slammed her into the wall.  He pushed her jacket off, throwing it to the side of the room.

He growled, pinning her against the wall, holding her up like she weighed nothing.  Though he didn't tend to be rough with her, there were moments here and there where she got a taste of it.  Sex up against a wall with him like this was incredible, how he could manhandle her and leave her completely at his control, how he could support her and drive her mad like this and never break a sweat.  He was sweating now and breathing hard, pulling her bra straps off her shoulders, dragging the garment down like if he didn't get his hands on her right now he might go mad (she certainly knew she would).  With her breasts bared, her nipples went stiff and peaked the moment the cold air of the room touched them.  That was a fleeting sensation, though, because he lifted her further and his mouth sealed over one and his fingers closed upon the other.

He teased more, dragging his tongue to the other side and lavishing the same attention there, leaving the first nipple taut and tortured by the cold again and sudden neglect.  Natasha whimpered, threading her hands into his hair and holding tight.  She tried in vain to push him away, push him away because she was so angry with him and hold him close because wanted him so badly she couldn't think straight and when his hand snaked its way down the front of her uniform to the top of her panties, she cursed and admitted it.  "I hate you," she gasped, throwing her head back into the wall with a thud. He pushed up again, driving her higher and his hand down lower.

A knock came at the door, and a group of agents with suits walked in. "Damn it, Rogers." Luckily there was a supply closet on the side of the room, and they managed to make their way in it.