The scent of blood in the air was both sickening and arousing, and Steve hated himself for that reaction. He reached over with his free hand to touch Natasha's face briefly, "I didn't want to be. Should I go get the knife, or would you rather endure with me? Whatever you want Natasha. I'll use it if you want me to."

He'd hate himself, but he'd do it. And he'd forever see the reminder of his betrayal of someone so special to him. It was no less than he deserved.