"You seriously want to spar with me?"
Rowan was being pushed forward from behind by Natasha, half laughing, half exasperated.
"Absolutely," she replied with a smirk. "You've been getting a little cocky lately. Time for someone to put you in your place."
Rowan grinned. "Alright then."
Truthfully, he'd wanted to put Natasha in her place for a while now.
He'd figured that after seeing what he was capable of in action, she'd know better than to pick a fight with him again. Apparently, her skull was tougher than he thought.
But if she wanted to throw herself into the fire, who was he to say no?
He was already thinking about what position to hang her up in once he was done wiping the floor with her.
He figured using telekinesis for discipline might be... fun.
Beep.
Natasha swiped her access card and led Rowan into their most frequently used space: training room C9.
The moment they stepped in, she started warming up her wrists and ankles, clearly itching to go.
"Rowan, you're not allowed to use your telekinesis!" she announced, straightforward and smug.
"What?" Rowan raised an eyebrow, looking at her like she was trying to cheat at cards.
Natasha blinked innocently, showing no hint of shame.
"Fine. No powers," Rowan replied casually.
"Really?" She looked a little too happy about how easily he agreed half excited, half smug, and just a pinch suspicious.
"Of course. But if you lose, what then?" he asked, a sly glint in his eyes.
"Hmph. Not going to happen," Natasha said confidently.
"Then how about this if you lose, no more walking around the house without a bra."
He gave her a look. With his current physique and energy, Natasha's flawless body lounging around in a thin nightgown was more than just a casual distraction.
Natasha laughed and tossed him a sultry glance over her shoulder. "Fine if you win."
"Deal. Let's go."
Rowan stepped onto the sparring platform and motioned for her to come at him.
The floor was padded, built to absorb impact during fights.
Natasha wore her full tactical suit tight black leather and combat boots. Her red hair was tied up neatly, giving her a look that was equal parts seductive and composed, with just a dash of steel.
The moment she saw his gesture, she raised an eyebrow and charged.
She moved faster than any regular agent, launching a sharp knee strike toward Rowan's abdomen.
He blocked the strike with one hand and grabbed her shoulder with the other.
Natasha reacted instantly, spinning like a butterfly to his side, sweeping her leg toward his lower half to knock him off balance.
Rowan saw it coming and didn't even flinch.
Smack!
Her leg connected cleanly with his calf.
And nothing happened.
Rowan didn't move an inch. Natasha, on the other hand, winced in pain.
It felt like she'd just kicked a tree stump.
Still, she didn't let it slow her down. In one fluid motion, she grabbed his arm, leapt into the air, and twisted her body to apply a judo-style lock.
This move was part of her go-to grappling style redirecting the opponent's weight by torquing their joints, slamming them to the floor, and following up with a pin or a disabling strike to the head.
Her thick thighs clamped around Rowan's arm, her body twisting mid-air as she tried to bring him down.
But Rowan's body now weighed over 150 kilograms (330 pounds), and his raw strength far exceeded even Captain America's.
He stood at 6'3". Natasha, on the other hand, was barely over 5'5".
The result was… comical.
She looked like a koala clinging to his side her calves resting on his shoulders, her thighs wrapped tightly around his arm, hanging upside-down from him.
She blinked, stunned.
This move had never failed her before.
Didn't his arm hurt?
How could he possibly be strong enough to hold her entire body weight on one arm without so much as a twitch?
Frustrated, she wrenched his arm again but all she felt were dense, unyielding muscles. It was like trying to twist a steel cable.
Rowan chuckled, grabbing her ankle with one hand, preparing to lift her.
Sensing trouble, Natasha twisted again, repositioning her legs from his arm to his neck. Then she snapped her core tight and pulled with her thighs, trying to flip him forward and slam him to the ground.
Ordinarily, that would've brought anyone down into a chokehold head first into the mat.
Unfortunately, his body wasn't ordinary.
His core strength was more than enough to resist both her weight and the torque of her technique.
They froze again.
This time in an even more awkward position.
Natasha's legs were clamped around his neck, her body dangling downward, hips tilted toward the mat.
Rowan's face was now… directly in front of her rear.
Smack!
He raised a hand and slapped it.
"Ah!"
Natasha gasped, whipping her head around in shock.
She couldn't believe it first, that he hadn't gone down. Second, that he'd just spanked her.
"Your grappling doesn't work on me," Rowan said with a grin.
He grabbed both of her ankles and, with a flick of his arms, lifted her clean off the ground dangling her upside-down in midair. Her calves were so slender, he could hold both with one hand.
Natasha yelped again, kicking in protest.
The position was… not exactly dignified.
Like a fish flopping on dry land, she twisted and thrashed in his grip.
But his strength was overwhelming there was no escaping his grasp.
Smack!
Another slap landed on her leather-clad backside, sending a visible ripple through the tight fabric.
"Do you surrender?"
"You—!"
She bit her lip in frustration.
Usually, she was the one straddling Rowan during their sparring sessions, pinning his neck and whispering that question.
Now he had her hoisted in the air, spanking her like a misbehaving child.
Smack!
"Do you yield?" he asked again, his tone playful.
The truth was, Natasha had been trained from childhood in the Red Room and enhanced with a specialized serum.
It wasn't as powerful as the Super Soldier Serum, but it dramatically improved a woman's athletic potential and slowed aging.
Though her strength wasn't on par with elite fighters, her flexibility, speed, stamina, and recovery were top-tier.
That was why she could be both physically formidable and maintain such a curvaceous figure.
Most female agents with high combat prowess had extremely low body fat and prominent muscle tone. Great for performance, not so great for… well, aesthetics.
But Rowan had always preferred Natasha's physique soft in the right places, toned where it mattered. Full curves, narrow waist, thick thighs tapering to slender calves. A balance of power and allure.
And right now, she was completely at his mercy.
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