He scooped both women up effortlessly, one in each arm, their lithe bodies pressed against his unyielding frame like offerings to a god of lust. Natasha's legs wrapped around his waist on the left, Wanda's on the right, their breasts squished against his chest, nipples dragging across the ridges of his pecs with every heaving breath. The air hummed with anticipation as he hovered them inches above the floor, his flight powers kicking in on a whim, making the room feel like a zero-gravity chamber.
"Feel that?" Jason murmured, his voice a low thunder that vibrated through their cores. "No holding back now. I'm gonna fuck you both until you can't walk straight." He aligned himself first with Natasha, the head of his cock—still slick from Wanda's earlier attentions—nudging against her entrance. With a controlled thrust, he impaled her mid-air, her pussy stretching around his girth with a wet schlick that echoed in the suite. "Ahh! Yes... just like that," Natasha gasped, her head falling back, red hair cascading like a waterfall. Her walls clenched rhythmically, milking him as he began to piston upward, each bounce aided by his superhuman lift, driving deeper than gravity alone ever could.
Wanda watched with hooded eyes, her hand slipping between her thighs to rub frantic circles on her clit, but Jason wasn't one to leave her wanting. He shifted her higher, angling her hips until his free hand could guide his cock—now withdrawn from Natasha with a reluctant pop—to Wanda's dripping folds. "Your turn, beautiful. Take every inch." He thrust up into her, the sensation of her velvet heat enveloping him drawing a guttural groan from deep in his chest: "Fuuuuck, so tight... like you were made for this dick." Wanda's cry was melodic, laced with her accent: "Ooh... Jason, it's too much... so full!" Her chaos magic flared instinctively, tendrils of red energy wrapping around his arms, not to fight but to pull him closer, amplifying the pleasure until it bordered on overload—every nerve ending singing with electric fire.
He alternated like that for what felt like an eternity, bouncing them in his arms, switching between their pussies with ruthless efficiency. Natasha's moans were sharp and demanding—"Deeper, you beast... wreck me!"—while Wanda's were softer, breathier, building to keening wails: "Yes... don't stop, please... aaaah!"
Their bodies glistened with sweat, breasts heaving in unison, nipples brushing against each other when he brought them close for sloppy, three-way kisses—tongues tangling in a mess of saliva and shared breaths. Cum from his earlier release leaked down their thighs, mixing with their own arousal, dripping onto the carpet below in obscene patters. The rage that had fueled his initial frenzy was a distant memory now, replaced by a pure, hedonistic drive that made his stamina seem endless. Pleasure had become the master, and they were all willing slaves to it.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting golden shafts through the shattered windows, they transitioned to the suite's balcony—overlooking the ceaseless hum of Times Square far below.
Jason pressed Natasha against the railing, her hands gripping the cool metal as he entered her from behind, the city sprawl a blurred backdrop to her ecstasy. "Look at them," he growled into her ear, one hand fisting her hair to arch her back, the other sliding around to pinch her clit.
"All those people down there... no idea their Black Widow is getting railed like a whore."
The exposure added a thrill, wind teasing her exposed skin, her moans carrying on the breeze: "Fuck... harder, make me scream for the whole city!"
Wanda knelt before her, face buried between Natasha's thighs, tongue lapping at the point where Jason's cock pistoned in and out, tasting their combined flavors. "Mmm... so salty, so good," Wanda purred, her fingers delving into her own pussy, fucking herself in time with the thrusts.
He came again like that, buried deep in Natasha, his roar muffled against her shoulder as hot spurts filled her to overflowing.
"Take it... all of it, fill that spy cunt." She shattered around him, squirting in arcs that Wanda eagerly caught on her tongue, the witch's own orgasm crashing as she rubbed her clit furiously. They tumbled inside as dusk fell, bodies spent but insatiable, collapsing onto the king-sized bed that had somehow survived the onslaught thus far—though the headboard was splintered, sheets a tangled, stained ruin.
Night one enveloped them in a cocoon of dim lamplight and exhaustion-tinged vigor. Jason lay on his back, a king on his throne of pillows, as the women took turns riding him. Wanda first, facing him in cowgirl, her hips undulating in slow, sensual circles that ground her clit against his pubic bone.
Her breasts swayed hypnotically, full and heavy, and he captured one in his mouth, sucking the dusky nipple with voracious hunger—teeth grazing just enough to elicit a yelp: "Nngh... bite me, yes!" Natasha straddled his thigh beside them, grinding her soaked pussy against the hard muscle, leaving a slick trail as she leaned in to kiss Wanda deeply, their tongues dueling while Jason's hands roamed— one spanking Wanda's ass with sharp cracks that turned the pale flesh pink, the other fingering Natasha's rear, stretching the tight ring with lubricated digits.
"Switch," Jason commanded after Wanda's third orgasm, her pussy fluttering around him in waves that milked pre-cum from his tip.
Natasha mounted him eagerly, her athletic form rising and falling with piston-like precision, thighs flexing as she rode him hard. "Your cock... it's perfect... stretching me so wide," she panted, nails raking down his chest, leaving red welts that healed almost instantly under his powers.
Wanda positioned herself over his face, lowering her dripping folds to his waiting mouth. His tongue plunged deep, fucking her with broad strokes while his nose nudged her clit, the vibrations of his moans—"Mmmph... taste like heaven"—sending her spiraling.
"Eat me... oh God, your tongue's magic," Wanda whimpered, grinding down until she came with a gush, flooding his mouth.
They didn't sleep much that night—snatches of rest interrupted by bouts of lazy, exploratory sex. In the witching hours, Jason had them on all fours side by side, asses up, faces buried in each other's pussies in a chain of oral bliss. He fucked Wanda doggy-style first, his hips slamming forward with enough force to make her whole body jolt, breasts swinging pendulously.
"Pound me... make my ass clap," she begged, pushing back to meet him, her magic creating phantom sensations—illusory cocks teasing Natasha's nipples, ghostly fingers in her ass. Natasha lapped at Wanda's clit from below, humming approval: "Slurp... so wet for him... cum on that dick." When Jason switched to Natasha, the spy's ass rippled under the impacts, her moans muffled into Wanda's folds: "Yes... fuck me raw... aaaah!"
Dawn of the second day broke with a symphony of birdsong filtering through the city noise, but they were far from done. Jason's appetite had only grown, the initial rage transmuted into an unquenchable thirst for their submission.
He carried them to the suite's jacuzzi tub, the massive marble basin filling with steaming water scented by the complimentary bath salts—lavender and eucalyptus, a deceptive calm for the storm to come. He settled on the edge, legs spread, cock standing proud like a scepter.
Wanda straddled him first, sinking down inch by inch, the water lapping at their joined bodies as she began to bounce. "So deep in the water... feels different... ooh!" The buoyancy aided her movements, splashes arcing with each rise and fall, her breasts skimming the surface, nipples pebbled by the contrast of hot water and cool air.
Natasha slipped into the tub behind her, pressing her body flush against Wanda's back, hands soaping up the witch's curves—lathering her breasts, tweaking nipples until Wanda arched with a whine.
"Let me help you ride him," Natasha whispered, her fingers trailing down to where Jason and Wanda were connected, rubbing the witch's clit in firm circles while occasionally dipping lower to fondle his balls underwater.
Jason thrust up to meet Wanda's descents, the water churning into frothy waves: "Ride that cock... make those tits bounce for me." Wanda's pace quickened, water sloshing over the edges, her cries building: "I'm cumming... fuuuck, yes... splashing everywhere!" She shattered, pussy clenching in rhythmic pulses, but Jason held her down, grinding through it until she was a trembling mess.
Natasha took her place next, facing away in reverse cowgirl, her ass cheeks spreading as she impaled herself with a satisfied sigh: "Mmm... fills me just right."
The water amplified the slick sounds—schlick-schlick—as she rode him with athletic fervor, hands braced on his knees for leverage. Wanda, recovered enough, knelt in the tub before them, her face inches from the action, tongue darting out to lick Natasha's clit and the base of Jason's shaft on every upstroke.
"Taste us together... so naughty," Wanda murmured, her fingers slipping into her own ass now, fucking herself as she serviced them. Jason's hands gripped Natasha's hips, guiding her harder, faster: "Bounce that ass... show me how much you love it." The spy obliged, her moans turning to screams as orgasm ripped through her: "Shiiit... cumming on your dick... don't stop!"
They emerged from the tub like drowned rats, skin pruned and flushed, but the fire hadn't dimmed. Towels were discarded almost immediately as Jason bent Natasha over the marble vanity in the bathroom, the mirror fogged from the steam but clearing just enough to reflect their debauchery.
He entered her in one smooth thrust, her reflection showing a face contorted in bliss—mouth agape, eyes half-lidded, red hair plastered to her forehead. "Watch yourself," he growled, pounding into her with relentless force, the vanity shaking under the assault.
"See how you take this cock... like you were born for it." Natasha's hands splayed on the glass, pushing back: "Fuck... look at me... your slut... harder!" Wanda slid beneath on her knees, the cool tile a shock against her heated skin, her tongue working overtime—lapping at Natasha's swinging breasts, then lower to the union of cock and pussy, swallowing the dripping cocktail of arousal.
The afternoon wore on in a fever dream of positions and pleasures. Jason's super strength came into play again when he hoisted Wanda against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her standing, gravity pulling her down onto him with each thrust.
"Hold on tight... feel me split you open," he grunted, her nails digging bloody crescents into his shoulders. Natasha pressed against his side, her mouth on Wanda's neck, sucking bruises into the pale skin while her hand reached down to rub the witch's clit.
"Cum for him... soak that cock," Natasha urged, and Wanda did, her magic erupting in a cascade of red sparks that danced harmlessly across their bodies, heightening every touch to euphoric levels: "Aaaah! It's too much... cumming so hard!"
By late afternoon, they migrated back to the bed—or what remained of it, the frame now a casualty of their earlier exertions, reduced to a mattress on the floor surrounded by debris. Jason lay supine, Natasha riding his face while Wanda impaled herself on his cock in a tandem display.
The spy ground down, her pussy smothering him as his tongue delved deep, flicking her clit with expert precision: "Eat me... tongue-fuck that hole... mmmph!"
Wanda bounced with wild abandon, her ass slapping against his thighs, breasts heaving as she leaned forward to kiss Natasha, their tongues tangling in a sloppy mess. "Your pussy on his face... so hot... ride him with me," Wanda moaned, her chaos magic weaving illusions—phantom mouths sucking their nipples, ghostly hands spanking asses—until reality and fantasy blurred into one endless climax.
As evening deepened into twilight, the second day peaked in a crescendo of shared ecstasy. They formed a chain on the ruined bed: Jason behind Wanda in doggy, his cock slamming into her from behind while she buried her face in Natasha's pussy, the spy's legs spread wide. The room filled with the symphony of their union—wet slaps of flesh, muffled moans, the squelch of tongues in folds.
"Fuck her while she eats me... make her scream into my cunt," Natasha demanded, her fingers tangled in Wanda's hair, grinding up to meet her mouth. Jason obliged, his pace brutal, hand coming down in sharp spanks that made Wanda's ass jiggle: "Take it deep... tongue that clit, witch." Wanda's cries vibrated through Natasha: "Mmmph... so good... gonna cum!" The chain reaction hit—Wanda first, her pussy spasming around Jason, then her tongue pushing Natasha over the edge with a wail: "Yes! Squirt on her face... fuuuck!" Jason followed, pulling out to paint Wanda's back in thick ropes, the excess scooped up by Natasha's fingers and fed to the witch in a filthy, intimate gesture.
Exhaustion finally claimed them as the second night fell, bodies entwined in a heap of limbs and satisfied sighs. Jason in the center, one arm around each woman, their heads pillowed on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths. The smoke aura was long gone, the rage purged into a sated calm that radiated warmth rather than threat. Natasha traced lazy patterns on his abs, a rare softness in her green eyes: "That was... beyond insane. But damn, you know how to fuck the fight out of a girl."
Wanda nuzzled closer, her magic a gentle hum against his skin: "I never thought submission could feel this... freeing. You've ruined us for anyone else."
Jason chuckled, low and content, pulling them tighter. "Good. Because we're just getting started." The city lights twinkled below through the broken windows, oblivious to the storm that had raged above. For the first time in days, peace settled over the penthouse—a fragile truce born of pleasure, submission, and the unbreakable bond they'd forged in sweat and ecstasy. But as sleep tugged at them, faint tremors of Jason's power stirred once more, hinting that the interlude might not last. For now, though, they rested, bodies marked and minds blissfully blank.