If she had been anyone else, that sound from her lips would probably have counted as a giggle. Of course the Black Widow didn't giggle, ever, but again it was Clint getting one of these funny alien sounds out of her. Well, it was definitely better than getting lost in anger and tears again.
She pressed her cheek against his hand, leaving another of these tender, soothing kisses on the callused skin, and then gave it a just as light nip, letting Clint know, she was trying. Swimming, struggling, to keep her head out of this dangerous ocean of memory where nothing good waited. Trying to stay with him in the here and now and in what they still had and shared.
"I'll come back to that, Barton. To both of it. Just let me finish my work here. You know me. I'm awfully thorough."
With her eyes locked on his face, she lowered her head to his good leg again and left another slow, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his thigh, then she sucked the slightly damp skin between her lips for one more playful bite. Her lips followed a feather light trail up his leg, teasing the steeled ropes of muscles she knew to be waiting there to flinch. Finally she was just close enough to let him feel her fast, hot breath on his still quite prominent erection, and there she stopped, though reluctantly.
Her arms had sneaked around his hips in the meantime and now pulled him forward in a quick strong move, mostly relying on her good arm but still efficient enough. That way he came more to lie back against the sofa then sit, and she had better access to these certain areas she had spared so far. For not more than a second her lips grazed the tip of his cock, then she straightened up quickly and reached for the cloth again with a heated smile.
This time she took it slow, making sure to give every inch of skin, from the juncture of his thighs to the sensitive undersides proper attention. Her fingertips were massaging in slow circles more than rubbing, but never came close enough to that waiting, straining hardness again, as much as her mouth was watering at the sight.
Only when she had wrung out the clothe once more, she closed her hand carefully around the base of his cock and gave it a few lazy, light strokes, careful to not be too rough with the fabric of the cloth but definitely too tight to count as unintentional.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-02 08:02 pm (UTC)She pressed her cheek against his hand, leaving another of these tender, soothing kisses on the callused skin, and then gave it a just as light nip, letting Clint know, she was trying. Swimming, struggling, to keep her head out of this dangerous ocean of memory where nothing good waited. Trying to stay with him in the here and now and in what they still had and shared.
"I'll come back to that, Barton. To both of it. Just let me finish my work here. You know me. I'm awfully thorough."
With her eyes locked on his face, she lowered her head to his good leg again and left another slow, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his thigh, then she sucked the slightly damp skin between her lips for one more playful bite. Her lips followed a feather light trail up his leg, teasing the steeled ropes of muscles she knew to be waiting there to flinch. Finally she was just close enough to let him feel her fast, hot breath on his still quite prominent erection, and there she stopped, though reluctantly.
Her arms had sneaked around his hips in the meantime and now pulled him forward in a quick strong move, mostly relying on her good arm but still efficient enough. That way he came more to lie back against the sofa then sit, and she had better access to these certain areas she had spared so far. For not more than a second her lips grazed the tip of his cock, then she straightened up quickly and reached for the cloth again with a heated smile.
This time she took it slow, making sure to give every inch of skin, from the juncture of his thighs to the sensitive undersides proper attention. Her fingertips were massaging in slow circles more than rubbing, but never came close enough to that waiting, straining hardness again, as much as her mouth was watering at the sight.
Only when she had wrung out the clothe once more, she closed her hand carefully around the base of his cock and gave it a few lazy, light strokes, careful to not be too rough with the fabric of the cloth but definitely too tight to count as unintentional.