russianchildatprayer | What's left of us (for broken

What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

The fire is spreading fast. The gamemaker wastes no time blowing up his arena, now that the winner stands.

She should be in the elevator already. The heat is unbearable, scorching the small hair of her arms where her uniform has torn, and stinging in countless ulcerous open wounds.

This one will scar.

There is no reason to linger. The other four are dead, she’s made very sure of that. Some put up a fight and suffered more than she would have wanted. But by now they all made it. They’re all relieved off what Dreykov still politely likes to call life.

All but one.

She could still end it. Her guns have drowned in that acid pool on the first day already and her last knife is stuck to the hilt in his liver. She can’t near him again if she doesn’t want to end up like him after all. But there’s enough rocks around. Worst case, she’ll burn her fingers while smashing his skull, before he has to suffer much worse pain.

The thick iron of the artificial walls, the faded layers of grass bred miles under the surface, just for this one purpose of yet another natural selection for Dreykov’s likes… All is glowing with the flames closing in around her. She can feel the hairs on her neck rise, smoking from the heat.

Still she keeps the door of the elevator open with her good arm, refusing to let it carry her to safety, to care, to the proud shimmer in Dreykov’s eyes and another nightmare to come by.

She shortly wonders if she should try take him with her. Maybe they’ll show mercy for once. He’s stood against her until the very last minute, after all. And even in that last fight she’s been nothing but lucky. It could be her bleeding out on the ground just a few meters away now.

She could try but the girl who’s been trained since before she even had been able to understood why and for what, knows better. The elevator won’t move if she drags him along with her. The doors won’t even close.

Only the strongest survive.

She’s been praying that he’ll pass out in these terrible few seconds of uncertainty, of trying to make a decision that’s long been made for her. She should know better. If a God exists, he has never taken particular interest in her life.

He turns to her, and she can see his eyelids are on fire. His lips form words that she can’t hear with one eardrum ruptured since day 3 and the rising noise of trees falling, barrels exploding, rocks crashing.

Maybe she’ll be able to tell herself for a while that he wants her to run.

But the part of her that turns away and takes the elevator to safety because there’s never been another way for her, knows better.

His last words were that he’ll find her.

She wishes, he could. Probably that’s why she left him alive. For the smallest chance that he’ll come for her, this time without making a stupid mistake. That he’ll be the one to finally put an end to it.

Only there’s no way he’ll make it out of there. There is no way out. They have made sure.

She won’t sleep better with that knowledge on her mind but that isn’t the point. Nightmares of seeing her lover burn to death is the easiest punishment she can wish for.

***************

Nightmares were hardly a rarity since Washington, but this was the first time Natasha awoke screaming. Still caught up in too bright, too detailed pictures burning behind her closed eyes, she realized too late that she was far too close to the edge of the bed. Before her instincts could kick in, she went to the floor, tangled in sweat stained sheets and landed on the very same shoulder that desperately needed a timeout anyway.

And that had been the last fucking time to take painkillers before going to sleep.

After she could breathe without wincing out in pain again, she left the bedroom to put together some kind of breakfast and a new load of meds. A postcard in her mailbox immediately made her forget about patching up that shoulder new. She couldn’t help but wonder how Steve had found her. It seemed, she had taught him better than she had realized.

Sam and him hadn’t found anything yet, that amateurishly coded card said. He wanted to know if she was okay. Saying they could use a hand. Sure they could.

He was stubborn, she had to give him that. She wondered if he’d still be once he found out the rest about her, all the stuff that was openly out in the world after Washington. And he would. Once they found Barnes and he would go back to a normal life… Steve would get to know the whole truth about her, sooner or later. There probably wouldn’t be postcards with smileys on them then anymore.

Time for another relocation, it seemed. She had waited for weeks, something that was far too dangerous anyway, and by now all hope was gone that at least a message of Clint might eventually catch up with her here. Hell, there was no telling if he was even still alive. Maybe the buzz out there had at least died down enough by now to try and find out that. The nightmares wouldn't go away from sitting and lying around in apathy much longer, that was for sure.

Ignoring her slightly dizzy condition, due to a few days without enough food, as much as the new warm, wet spots staining the bandage under her shirt, Natasha went back to the bedroom to pack her things. If Steve had found out where she was, chances were too big that someone else would too, to linger much longer.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One of the things Natasha loved so much about having sex with Clint was how honest he reacted to everything they did. While there were still times when she herself tried to muffle her sounds or hide her face on his shoulder, when she threatened to lose control over her body... That blissful look on Clint's face and all these delicious sounds he was making were an open book.

It just turned her on even more. When they were past teasing and finally joined, their hips intertwined in their most intimate embrace and she could feel him throb with need inside of her, she just had to stop for a moment. She had to watch him for a second, leaning over him with her good arm draped over his chest while her eyes sought his heated gaze, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Love it how you feel", she murmured before leaning in for a deep, demanding kiss, hips just circling slightly to enjoy that perfect way of being close to him for a few moments longer before desire would take completely over.

In that first silent, still moment after they joined he could feel his heart racing, his blood pumping, and as he stared up at her he almost forgot to breathe. She was a vision, with her skin flushed and her hair all mussed from their earlier activities.

Clint kissed her back eagerly, groaning a little against her lips when she moved, no matter how minimal. She was overwhelming his senses until all he could smell was her aroma, all he could taste was her lips, all he could feel was her smooth skin and her wet heat engulfing him. He loved how she felt too, loved how hot and tight she was, loved tasting the salt on her skin, loved seeing that soft smile on her lips when she wasn’t trying to devour him, which he also loved. He loved everything, loved ever second of this. “Love you,” he murmured against her lips.

It took him a second longer than it probably should have to realise what he had said, and luckily he couldn’t seem to speak or he probably would have started to babble and try to make excuses.

Huh. Well, that was interesting.

Natasha's sex-addled brain needed a moment to catch up with these last whispered words on Clint's lips. Her body and her mouth against his froze for a moment while she tried to categorize this new development in her head, tried to find any knee-jerk reaction inside to this unexpected, nearly casual thrown in remark.

None of that happened, and after a moment of confusion she realized, there was nothing to be surprised about. She had already known, suspected at least. The feelings between them had always waited and played underneath the skin, never spoken about, never quite handled but always waiting patiently.

Maybe this was a good time to work things like that out. Not like they had anyone to answer about such things anymore.

But unlike Clint sometimes, she wasn't someone to blurt her feelings out easily, not even in the middle of fantastic sex, so she went for another soft smile instead, withdrawing just enough so Clint could see it.

"Promise you'll remember what you just said when we're done here?"

She finally moved her hips, still slowly, lifting herself off him enough so she could enjoy this beloved friction and stretch of him penetrating her again, causing her muscles to clench around him tightly. Just that perfect intimate heat that washed away all burdening thoughts and too deep feelings she didn't want to deal with right now. Later, with a clear head.

For now it was comforting enough to know they indeed had some very important things to talk about.

Idiot, idiot, idiot! He hadn’t meant to say that. He had meant to tell her that he loved how she felt too, loved how wet she was, how wild, but apparently forming a sentence of more that two words had been damn near impossible in the moment. Clint, you dummy!

She froze, and he thought that was it. She was going to quickly climb off him and run, and leave him here to wallow in his own stupidity. It had been so long since they had been together and it was too soon to just blurt something like that out. And right in the middle of sex? Really?

“Tash, I...” he started to say, but he still couldn’t find the words. Should he take it back? Lie to her and tell her he didn’t mean it? Should he just jump in with both feet and confess everything? Oh man, she was pulling back, she was going to... smile at him?

Well, that was unexpected, but not as much so as her words that left him entirely speechless. She actually wanted to talk about it. Later, when they weren’t busy, she wanted to talk about what he’d said. He could only nod in response, then she was moving, riding him slowly, and it felt so good he quickly forgot any idea of talking right now. His hands moved to her hips, his thumbs circling over her hips bones as he pushed up to meet her. Oh yeah, talking could wait. Maybe he should have just gotten her to gag him.

Clint's reactions still were all but subtle, and Natasha had to hide a grin when he visibly fought with his own bravery. She was ready to silence him with another deep kiss if necessary. Later, she would tell him how very happy she was that he had come out with this, at the most perfect time when they both needed something to hold on to so much.

But right now she didn't want to talk, maybe cuddle a little and make plans about what to make of this sudden emotional ripple in their relationship. Right now she wanted to fuck him.

So she was glad when he caught the hint and kept silent, giving in to her teasing movements instead. It was nice, the way he held her, how his hands tightened on her hips when she let her muscles work his hardness, intentionally this time... But again not quite what her body demanded right now.

Straightening back up she reached for one of his wrists and brought his clever fingers back to her breasts, biting her lower lip playfully as she slowly lifted herself off him again and brought her hips down a lot faster and harder this time. The moan escaping from her lips was deep and raw, speaking of still way too much pent-up passion just waiting to break loose.

Maybe it was good that they were still a little too banged up to go at each other with full speed. Probably they would have needed a doctor after that then.

The way it was, Natasha had to keep it slower than usual and couldn't bend her body into some of these creative positions they had tried in the past, but that didn't make her enjoy it any less. They were moving calmer than before, a tight, intense rhythm of skin melting into each other again and again.

She made it a torturous little game, working Clint up more and more with the tight squeezing of her muscles around him... Just to give him a break and nuzzle into his arms, with her body trembling heavily and her lips and teeth leaving marks on his neck and shoulders, whenever he was getting too close to the edge.

Already they were both covered in sweat and... well, other things again, after just washing up and she didn't regret it a little. It felt much too good for that. A steady hot build deep inside that soon had her hips twitch against his helplessly, searching for the last spark to let this fire loose, while Clint's name came from her lips between rough moans.

His eyes moved to their hands when she grabbed his wrist, sitting up and away from him, but an easy smile settled over his lips when she moved his hand where she needed it. He quickly moved his other to match.

He moaned and muttered as she moved, his hands massaging her breasts and tweaking her nipples, calloused thumbs working over the sensitive peaks just how he knew she liked it. Blissful torture, that’s what this was, with her bringing him close then cooling them down for a moment to draw out the experience. He was panting and sweating beneath her, groaning with each mark she left on him, pinching her sensitive skin a little harder with each one. She was so fucking good at this, felt so fucking amazing, and if her goal was to drive him crazy she was doing a damn good job of it. His hips moved of their own accord, straining up to meet her, pressing closer, rotating and rocking.

He felt her getting close, felt her losing her control, the rhythm faltering, and he knew she was close. Sliding one hand down her torso, he searched with expert fingers between them to find her clit and applied pressure, rubbing at the swollen nub as he felt his own release approaching, egged on by his name, so broken, on her lips.

Natasha had meant to held out much longer, stretch that game until they both couldn't take it anymore. But once Clint got these skilled fingers of his to work, it never needed more to have her lose control.

Her hips twitched against his hand, her muscles clenched around him uncontrollably when her world whitened out for a moment. She leaned back on his good leg with one arm with a throaty moan and rode out the waves of her orgasm, bringing her body down as hard against his as she dared without risking to hurt him. She loved it when he was that close, so unbelievable hard inside of her, when she couldn't make out if it was his or her own voice groaning in pleasure anymore.

The different angle hit just that one perfect spot inside with every thrust of her hips, leaving her breathless in a height that didn't want to end and her muscles contracting violently until all that tension released in a choked cry from her lips. Until something inside finally gave in to all that stimulation and a hot spray of liquid coated Clint's groin, right there where she had already left plenty of proof of her lust.

It could have been a curse or his name on her lips when she collapsed over his chest to catch her breath, she didn't really know. There just wasn't anything better than lying safe and warm in Clint's arms after exhausting herself out.

His voice joined hers when her muscles contracted around him, squeezing him so tight with every thrust. If he hadn’t already lost the ability to breathe then the image of her riding him hard, her back arched and lips parted in a moan, would have done it. It was beautiful, erotic, like the most exquisite piece of art.

He tried to hold on, tried to hold out, but when she came so violently, coating him in a fresh wave of her lust, it wasn’t long before he followed her down, crying out his own release. He continued to move, the movements much slower and shallower, to prolong her pleasure, and when she collapsed on top of him he let his head drop back to the pillow, exhausted. Breathing heavily, he wound one arm loosely around her, wanting her to stay exactly where she was.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he gasped between breaths, kissing whatever he could reach, which happened to be the top of her head.

"This is gonna be Greenland all over again, right?" Natasha chuckled when she finally had enough air to talk again.

Well, Greenland without hunting polar bears or supervising from Hill in between fucking each others' brains out. But she could remember exactly this feeling. Completely worn out, happy, warm, secure and snug in the arms of a man who knew her so damn well, who devoted himself to her without ever expecting anything, who respected her and her life and her decision like no one else before.

Thinking about it, it was more than fitting and overdue that their lives had now washed them ashore together once more and that her only decision right now was him.

She nuzzled her face against the warmth of his skin with a deep sigh, breathing in the scent sex and excitement and all Clint, and let herself fall completely in this perfect sensation. Only the man who was important to her all around her, against her, inside her where she could still feel the faint hot throbbing of their game and his own spent lust.

And no listening to their phones with one ear. At least for the moment, in this house, not even living with the constant latent fear of an attack anytime soon.

Actually, so much better than Greenland.

“Better than Greenland,” Clint replied, unknowingly voicing Natasha’s very thoughts. “We only gotta stop when we want to. Or, you know, when we need a rest.”

His eyes still closed, he grinned up at the ceiling, one hand trailing lazy fingertips up and down her spine. It was a strange feeling, knowing they were completely alone, that they were safe, that the could just stay like this all day if they wanted. Soon they would have to make plans, would have to move on, but for today, maybe a couple of days, they could live undisturbed in their own little bubble.

“By the time night rolls around I’m gonna sleep like a rock.” He was already blissfully exhausted and it was still early. He didn’t want to make assumptions, but he figured odds were good that this wasn’t the last round of the day.

"Well, I might also be bribed in cooking something for us later. You know, to reload batteries."

Natasha finally gathered enough brains to push herself up a little, just enough to not put pressure on Clint's injured side, and looked at him with a small grin curving on her lips. Cooking wasn't her best trait, admittedly, but she would have it easier walking through the kitchen, bending and stretching, than Clint with his damaged leg. Her abilities would suffice for some stew or something.

"Sleeping sounds nice."

With a little sigh, she drew small circles with her fingertips on his shoulder. The dreams wouldn't stay away forever. It was good to know there was someone beside her to wake her if necessary.

“You’re gonna cook?” he said, feigning disbelief and worry. He was a bit honestly surprised at the offer, though. Cooking wasn’t something Natasha really did much of, as far as he knew, nor something she did well, but how bad could it really be? He had eaten things in his life that no human should have to consume, after all, so at least it would be actual food, and after sustaining himself on canned goods for the past few weeks anything would be an improvement, right?

He hadn’t meant that they should sleep now, but if she was tired he certainly wasn’t going to argue. He hadn’t been sleeping well without her, and he was beginning to suspect she could say the same, so a little extra sleep couldn’t hurt. Besides, it wasn’t like they had a schedule to keep or anything. “Well, we’re already all settled in bed.”

Natasha gave his shoulder a mean little bite for the remark but kissed the spot better immediately then. He had a point, of course. And that was why she would put extra effort in that diner later. No one was to say, she couldn't surprise.

She hadn't really planned on taking a nap but when Clint seemed to get her remark wrong, her body agreed with a long, deep yawn.

"Guess I've slept less in the last days than I should", she murmured. "Maybe we can lay down for just an hour or so..."

With a small sigh of regret she lifted herself off him and rested on her good right side, with the other arm gently draped across his chest, and nuzzled her face against his shoulder. Part of her wanted to stay awake, wanted to talk about... everything and what he had said before. The other, just as big part fought with the blissful exhaustion in her bones.

"Just don't let me sleep too long", she murmured, turning her head to smile at him. "I seem to remember there was something you wanted to tell me again..."

Clint gave a playful yelp at the bite and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout even as Natasha kissed it and made it better. He loved seeing her so relaxed, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride that she could be so after everything that had happened, that she could still so easily relax with him.

“Whether we sleep or not I wasn’t planning on getting up,” he replied, letting out a regretful sound himself when she moved. Her yawn couldn’t be ignored, though, and he found himself wondering just how this time had passed for her. Had she been as lost as him? As worried? As terrified? At least she’d had all the information, and she had been with people she could trust. Clint had been taken completely by surprise, and had been utterly alone. Still, it couldn’t have been easy on her nonetheless.

Letting his eyes drift closed when she settled own against him, he was stupidly thankful that their injuries seemed to correspond so that laying on her good side brought her against his so they could still lay close together like this.

He was about to say that he wouldn’t, though he had no intention of waking her, but her trailing words caused his eyes to shoot open again. Right, that. “If you want to hear it again...” he replied, unsure despite the smile she wore.

Though it was kind of adorable, seeing a strong, confident character like Clint so nervous, Natasha knew very well that this uncertainty was mostly her fault. She had insisted on keeping their distance in the past, for reasons that were no longer existent. She didn't want to feel Clint that uneasy because of her anymore.

Unfortunately she didn't feel awake enough for serious discussions right now either. So she chose to just lean up for a soft kiss for the moment, still smiling.

"Try me, hotshot."

Her kiss and her smile were reassuring, but he could tell she was tired and still languishing in the afterglow. Now was probably not the time for anything too serious. Besides, he wasn’t exactly clear of mind either, and the last thing he wanted to do was screw up that discussion.

“Maybe I will,” he responded instead, grinning back at her. His arm tightened around her just a moment before he settled back against the pillow again.

"Good. Because I'm not going to forget it", Natasha warned him, a warm, soft spark of affection in her eyes before she closed them and settled comfortable against him again.

There wasn't anything better to lure her into sleep than the feeling of Clint's warm, soft skin against her cheek, and the sound of his heartbeat - still a little too fast - in her ear. Her fingers drew gentle patterns over his shoulder and arm, avoiding every bandage and every still sensitive spot from his last adventure, until the tiredness finally took over.

Part of him wanted to forget it; part of him wanted to forget he had just blurted it out like that, right in the middle of sex like a complete idiot, but seeing that look in her eyes... maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Still, he would have preferred something more elegant or personal or poetic or... entirely un-Clint-like. Saying it like he had was just so him.

For now she didn’t seem too concerned, though, and he let out a soft sigh when she settled against him. She was so warm, her touch so gentle, and he couldn’t help but think that this was how life should be. It was moments like these that made everything else worth it, and if SHIELD’s downfall meant more of this then there was definitely an upside to it.

“You might wish you could when you wake up,” he muttered when he was sure she was asleep before letting himself follow her down.

Natasha more felt herself startling out of disturbing dreams than she really could remember details. There had been Steve's terrified face a few times, Nick telling her that she wasn't worth shit and the usual Red Room annals on top...

But everytime her mind grew too restless, everytime her breath caught in her throat, when her shoulder exploded with new pain of memory and her hand wanted to grab the nearest weapon, she felt Clint's warm, bare body press against hers. Felt him breathing against her ear and smelled the proof of what they had just done, mixed together with the wild clean scent that was all him. Enough to drift back to sleep, with the shadow of a smile on her lips.

Too much shit on her mind to be really well-rested when she finally woke up, but it had been enough to reload her batteries. She allowed herself to slowly drift back to reality, lie completely still in Clint's arms not to wake him and revel in the memories of the last two days. Things were far from alright. They still didn't really know where to go from here and living at Stark's as only option... Not something to lift her mood.

But it didn't matter right now, because no matter where they were going, she was waking up with no mission on her mind for the moment, on something that could pass as holiday with two turned blind eyes, in the arms of the man she loved...

Huh?

Natasha opened her eyes, looking down on Clint's slowly rising and falling chest with a frown. Where had that come from? A few weeks out of the game and already she came up with sentiments that she had forbidden herself for years? For her own protection, for his, to keep it professional...

And where had that brought them? Her in the middle of a war, him in the middle of traitors gunning him down, and their profession didn't exist anymore. Not in the way it once had been, and they could never go back that path either.

Maybe she didn't want to. Maybe this here was so much better. Maybe her brains just needed to catch up with what her heart already seemed to know.

But these were too heavy thoughts for a still lazy mind. That was something she should talk over with him. After all, she seemed to remember there was something he wanted to tell her too... If he could actually find the guts a second time, that was. That would be an interesting conversation.

Grinning slightly, Natasha turned her head to press a short kiss to Clint's skin and untangled herself from his arms as carefully as possible. Heavy talk was easier on a full stomach. She got up as quietly as possible and grabbed the nearest of his clothes, an age-softened gray sweater on the floor. Which didn't exactly cover everything, but after she had put a few more pieces of wood in the fire, it was warm enough. And she doubted that Clint would mind.

Her shoulder was giving her a bit of a hard time again but the swelling seemed to have gone back, she found with relief, when she carefully touched it. She downed her antibiotics and another painkiller to have at least one and a half hands ready to use and then started her mission in the pantry.

Not complicated enough to fuck it up but better than her usual half-burned ham and eggs, that was the plan. They could both use some carb-ups, so she brought the small vegetable mix she had brought from her journey for a soup, and the can of mincemeat. Rice and meat, that sounded like something even she could do.

She made the whole thing a mission, preparing every plate, all the cutlery, every spice she would need in the right order on the counter, and made a matching timetable in her head. A good plan was everything. She wouldn't be defeated by a stupid kitchen, no way.

Only she hadn't taken into consideration that an ancient kitchen like this wasn't handled as easily as a S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria. The damn water just didn't want to boil and when it did, the damn pan was too small. Maybe she could use it for the rice instead... But how long again until rice was finished? Was it a sacrilege to eat the soup after the main course?

Natasha stared at the mess on the stove and the counter with a few very vivid Russian curses on her lips. Not this time. Still grumbling, she bent down to the dishes cabinet again to search for a bigger pan. There had to be one here, they had lived her for months, for Christ's sake. They hadn't gotten by - only - on sex and fast food back then...

Clint dreamed only of Natasha. No nightmares, no dreamless sleep, but actual good dreams.

He felt her stirring from time to time but didn’t wake, and once in a while he held her closer, burying his face in her hair and trying to surround himself in her.

Somewhere in the middle of his dreams he let out a whine of disapproval, suddenly feeling cold and lost. It wasn’t long after that he awoke to find himself alone. At least this time he didn’t freak out because he knew she would just be out in the other room, probably enjoying the fire, or in the washroom.

Carefully pushing himself up and getting out of bed, he found a pair of pants and a hoodie in one of the piles of clothing on the floor. Now that Natasha was here he should probably straighten the place up a bit. Leaving his clothes lying around everywhere would only be tolerated for so long.

Shuffling quietly out of the room, he saw Natasha at the stove, dressed in just his sweater, and heard the cursing coming from her lips. It was both sweet and amusing that she was trying to cook when they both knew it wasn’t exactly part of her skill set. Holding back his laughter, Clint crept silently forward, only to stop dead when she bent over to start rooting in one of the lower cabinets, the sweater doing nothing to cover her.

“I could get used to this sort of view,” he said with a low whistle. “When you offered to prepare something to eat this wasn’t what I expected, not that I’m complaining...”

It was only thanks to her reflexes that Natasha didn't end up knocking herself unconscious when she suddenly heard Clint's voice. The rustling of pans and bowls had drowned his steps out, and she generally tended to be less on alert when they were alone. 10 years and more had been enough to imprint it on her instincts that Clint was no threat of any kind to her.

Well, at least if he didn't creep up to her. She felt her cheeks blush a little but made no move trying to cover herself up. That would seem a little odd after what they had done before...

Instead she straightened back up intentionally slow, with at least a slightly bigger pan in her hand, and threw her hair back over her shoulder to look at him from under her lashes.

"Since we'll be spending the day in bed, what's the use of getting dressed?"

Without even pulling that sweater back down where it belonged she went back to the stove and threw that damn green stuff from one pan to another to try and start this whole thing over.

"I was thinking we should load our batteries before I'll let you have desert, but if you prefer to change order..."

It was only the slightest twitch that gave any indication that she hadn’t heard his approach, and when she looked back over her shoulder at him, a large saucepan in hand, Clint was very glad he hadn’t gotten any closer. Instinct probably would have had her leveling the pan at his head before realising that it was him she was clobbering.

“I musta missed the memo. I can ditch the clothes,” he offered, moving forward now that the threat of concussion had passed. She was clearly teasing now when she didn’t even try to adjust the sweater, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off that perfect ass only partially hidden. Somehow it was even sexier than if she had been completely naked, and he couldn’t help the feeling of possessiveness at seeing her in his clothing. There was just something incredibly alluring about it.

“I dunno, that’s a touch choice,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and burying his face in the back of her neck an nuzzling against her through her hair. “Wouldn’t want you to burn dinner.” Not that he really needed to distract her for that to happen.

It was ridiculous, they had just exhausted each other out like five minutes ago. She shouldn't feel a rush of heat just from his breath in her neck or his strong, warm body pressing against her half nude form.

Good thing she was determined to get that diner done before anything else happened, no matter the cost.

"Just don't blame me then if it's not edible", she murmured, more husky than intended.

At least her hands weren't shaking when she opened that can with the meat and got it out in another waiting pan. Wait, wasn't there something she had been supposed to do with that pan before? Her brains tried to remember, but her body was too busy snuggling close to Clint and rubbing against the rough fabric of his clothes. Rice, right... How did you do rice again?

He could feel her responding to him, pressing her body close even as she continued her task. It was like these last months apart had left them starved for each other’s touch and no amount of it would be enough to fully satisfy them.

It was so damn tempting to let his hands wander; with the sweater riding up there was nothing stopping him from seeking that most treasured prize, but Natasha’s words brought him back to reality and he chuckled against her neck.

“Oh no, you’re not gonna use me as an excuse if this goes bad,” he said. Skimming his hands down to her hips, it took all of his willpower to grasp the hem of the sweater and pull it down to further cover her rather than ridding her of it completely. That task complete he reluctantly stepped back so she had freedom to move again. “You wanna blame me you’re gonna have to give me something to do that I can screw up first.”

Natasha pouted a little when he saw her plan through that easily and at the sudden loss of touch and tried hard to concentrate on that receipt in her head again. It didn't work, her mind was focused rather on the look of Clint's arms around her waist just a second ago, the muscles playing there, and his strong thighs moving against hers...

With a frustrated sigh, she blew a strand of hair out of her face and raised her hands in mock-defeat.

"Alright, how about you give the orders and I'll execute?"

What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

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