What's left of us (for broken_arrow)

[russianchildatprayer]

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.

Comments

[broken_arrow]

How she could make something as simple as eating a donut so fucking sexy Clint didn’t know, though the hand caressing his thigh didn’t hurt either. Shaking his head at her, he forced himself to look away and attacked his own breakfast with a vengeance, taking more than half of the first donut in one bite. He was going to need the energy or the strength or something if Natasha planned to make good on her words, not that he’d ever had a problem in the stamina department before.

“s’good,” he mumbled around the food, his leg twitching slightly under her hand. Bringing the glass of water up to his lips, he made a silent toast in his head. To a very speedy recovery.

[russianchildatprayer]

It was utterly amusing, watching and feeling him fidget like that and knowing she was the reason. She could have taken him apart completely with just a few words, and later maybe she would, but before they needed proper nutrition.

Which didn't keep her hand from idly wandering, though, slowly, systematically making its way up the inside of Clint's thigh, just close enough, before she let it trail down again. That game up she kept up until both their plates were empty, occasionally digging her fingers a little tighter into his strong muscles.

When she finally had her fill, she picked up a few left crumbles from her plate with a fingertip and nibbled them off, a mischievous smile on her lips, and gave his good thigh a last good squeeze. Time to get the work. She got up quickly and out of reach, to bring the dishes back to the kitchen.

"So... I hope you trust me with something sharp and dangerous on your face?"

Still with that predatory grin, she came back to take the big mirror hanging on the wall and place it on the dresser right opposite the sofa, so she would be seeing what she was doing. After getting a towel and a small pair of scissors from the bathroom, she neared Clint again, slowly, with one eyebrow raised.

[broken_arrow]

She was a total tease, and Clint loved every minute of it. This was what had been missing from his life for the past few months he’d been away. Not the sexy talk and the teasing specifically, but the ability to relax, the feeling that things would be okay, the comfort of having someone that understood; all of it. Her; that was what had been missing from his life: Natasha and everything that went along with her.

He ate his food in record time, but Natasha did so at a leisurely pace, her hand never leaving his thigh. Leaning back against the sofa he closed his eyes and and relaxed, relishing in the feel of her touch while at the same time willing himself not to rise to the bait, so to speak.

When she finally shifted beside him he opened his eyes, but before he could say or do anything she was on her feet and clearing the dishes. He didn’t even try to protest nor offer to help knowing she would turn him down. She seemed more content to balance the dishes with her injured arm than let him walk around on his injured leg, though his injuries were arguable worse that hers, having had no proper medical attention as she had.

“Well, I figure if you were planning to slit my throat you woulda done so last night, so...” he said, watching her move around. “Sure you don’t wanna move this to the bathroom?” Would save from getting hair all over the couch and make for easier clean up that way.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Well, I was planning to keep my legs around your to keep you from escaping your fate, hotshot, but if you insist..."

He had a point, though, so Natasha didn't keep up that sulk on her lips for too long but headed for the bathroom as requested. There were other ways to tease him if she desired so... Towel and scissors still in her hand, she leaned back against the sink and nodded down on the bath tub edge for Clint to take a seat.

"Come on, hotshot, we have a date."

[broken_arrow]

Well, Natasha was certainly in a playful mood this morning, and Clint found himself just grinning stupidly back at her for a moment. Clearly she was as relieved as he was now that they were together again, and she seemed to determined to take advantage of every moment.

Pushing up to his feet when she disappeared into the washroom, he followed after her and took the seat she indicated, stretching his injured leg out a little while keeping the other bent.

“You’re really eager to de-scruffify me,” he said, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Do I really look that bad?”

[russianchildatprayer]

"No, just like being on the run."

A hint of sadness crept into Natasha's smile. She quickly leaned forward to capture Clint's lips in a soft, long kiss and rub her cheek against his gently, letting him know she really didn't care about his looks at all. She just needed a bit of normalcy back in her life.

"And I like to think, we've both come home, so let's make a gentleman out of you again."

And there it was right back, that playful grin on her lips, when she stepped closer and straddled his good leg to get comfortable, with one of hers propped inside the bath tub for better leverage. Her hand went from softly caressing his neck up to grab his hair, just on this side of too rough, urging him to lean his head back so she could start her work.

[broken_arrow]

Aw, damn, he hadn’t meant to make her sad, he had just been playing around. Before he could apologise (and, let’s face it, probably make an idiot of himself) Natasha cut off any word with a kiss which he gratefully returned. Everything felt right with the world when she kissed him.

Afterwards she went right back to the teasing, though her words about home resonated deeper than the other playful words should have allowed. This place held special meaning to them, so in a way it was like home, but he knew it was more than that. Being together again, especially after so long apart; still having each other while losing everything else... they both had to build new lives, a new life, and this, each other... this was home.

Her rough handling made him grunt but he did as indicated and tilted back his head. “You’ve done this before, right?”

[russianchildatprayer]

"Less talking, Barton. I need my focus."

She was only fucking around with him, of course, but the teasing was just too much fun to give it up. Her lips came down to his neck, leaving a trail of little bites as if to mark her territory, while the rather blunt blades of the scissors caressed through the mess of hair around his throat.

She could swear, she could feel his pulse quickening under her lips and chuckled a little before biting down gently on just that spot. Right there, where she could feel the life, the warmth running through him, everything she had been afraid she might have lost when all else had gone to hell. He was still here, with her, and after all these weeks of fear, that knowledge left a light-hearted relieved euphoria, even overshadowing sadness and helplessness for the moment.

Sometimes being a child really didn't hurt.

It also didn't hurt that she could feel his body so close and hot against hers in this position, and if she pressed her crotch a little more than necessary against him... Well, she was just making sure she had a good position, to not suddenly slip when she had a sharp object on his neck...

Admittedly, barber wasn't in her job description, but she had learned everything necessary about styling, restyling and taking care of her looks in every situation at early age. And she had shaved him before when there had been that thing with his elbow years back, so it wasn't rocket science.

She worked quickly, efficiently, after she had stopped fooling around, trimming back the uncontrolled growth on his cheeks and chin in a short, neat layer of dark blond. Then she reached back for the shaving lather and razor blade she had spotted before on the mirror rack and settled back down on Clint's leg. It was purely by accident, really, that she had her legs around him a little tighter and closer than before, sighing against his neck as she rubbed herself against him as if to get comfortable, while she coated his lower chin and throat with a thin layer of white.

"No moving now, hotshot", she murmured against his ear, taking a tight hold of his hair again to underline her words.

Slowly, carefully she brought the blade to his skin then, a look of pure concentration on her face when she slowly scraped it over inch by inch, just stopping in between to wipe the blade on the towel propped between their bodies.

[broken_arrow]

“Right, right,” he said, before pressing his lips firmly closed. His eyes drifted shut when she started nibbling at his neck, her hot breath in direct contrast to the cold steel of the scissors. He flinched on instinct when she bit him, but there was no pain in it; in fact it was the exact opposite.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, the metallic singing of the scissors the only sound as Natasha efficiently got the length of his facial hair down to something more manageable, but she wasn’t finished yet. He watched her set up the shaving kit, and felt his pulse quicken all over again when she didn’t just sit on his leg again but rubbed herself against him with a gentle sigh against his skin. Her hand in his hair, her voice low in his ear... she was definitely not done playing with him yet.

She had done this for him before, but at the time it had been necessity, and despite the obvious attraction they shared they had always been able to turn that off when needed. They bathed each other, changed each others clothes, cared for one another when needed. This was different; he was injured but not enough that he needed care, and that made all the difference. He could easily do this task himself, and that’s what made it a game. She worked slowly, her body warm and close, her movements careful and precise, and it was all Clint could do to keep his breathing even. Keeping one hand on the side of the tub to help his balance, his other found her leg, slid along her thigh up to her hip. He rotated his thumb over the bone, applying just a slight pressure, and the whole while his eyes never left her face. The expression she wore, the concentration, was breathtaking.

[russianchildatprayer]

"You're playing dangerously, hotshot."

Natasha bit her lower lip softly, forcing herself to keep her focus on what she was doing when Clint started touching her. Not that she really needed to, in theory she could shoot some bad guys through the window while he was fucking her through the roof, but it added more spice to the game pretending.

Just as much as answering his touch with slowly rubbing herself over his thigh again when she lowered her hand to wipe the blade. She could feel the heat coil in her lower body again and knew, she was already getting wet for him, but she ignored the sensation as good as possible to finish her work. Stripe by stripe the coarse hair vanished from where it had no business, the blade caressing, dancing over his skin, mindful of every line, every movement of his muscles and Adam's apple while her hand in his hair held him firmly in place.

It didn't take long, finally she could put both towel and blade away and rub her cheek against his now perfectly clean and smooth neck with a seductive little purr.

"Better..."

Careful to not graze his injured side, she wrapped both arms around him and started treating his throat and nick with small kisses and licks again. The tip of her tongue followed the line of his pulse, slowly up and down until she found that slightly reddened spot from before and bit down again, a nearly inaudibly quiet moan on her lips.

"I think I promised you a bath..."

[broken_arrow]

“Who, me?” Clint replied as innocently as possible. He tried not to smile when she drew her lower lip between her teeth and just barely managed it because moving his face right now would not be a good idea. Not that he thought it would really make any difference. He was pretty sure it would take a pretty sudden movement for Natasha to even nick his skin, she was just that damn good and in control.

After that he behaved himself until she finished the job, taking no small thrill from her solid hold on his hair and the power she had over him. She was gentle, but she could have easily done him serious damage if she wanted to.

His newly shaved skin was sensitive and he let out a little growl when she nuzzled against him in about the sexiest way possible. His thumb pressed into her skin again when she started kissing his neck, and the growl got a little louder when she bit him again. “I seem to remember something about that...”

[russianchildatprayer]

The air was buzzing and these sexy noises from Clint's throat didn't exactly help that condition. Natasha usually tried to keep promises she gave him, though. And really, like she needed an excuse to get her hands all over him.

A short glance at the water level display of the boiler let her know, there was enough hot water available for the plan. They could always shower together in the evening when the supply had refilled. After... other things that might get them sweaty again.

"We might need to get you out of your clothes for that", she purred, batting her eyelashes at him innocently. Not exactly the matching expression for the way she pressed her lower body against his leg. Or for how her hand slipped from his waist lower, fingers digging slightly into the firm flesh of his ass. "How about getting comfortable on the sofa again?"

[broken_arrow]

Between that sexy tone of voice and the way she was rubbing against him Clint was getting more than a little excited himself. Giving her a look that clearly stated that he didn’t believe the innocent act for a second he slowly nodded his head.

“Yeah, it usually works, uh...” his words halted a moment when she squeezed his ass and he definitely felt himself respond. “Works better that way. With the no clothes.”

Oh so eloquent was his response.

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha laughed, a warm, affectionate sound, as short as it was. There was nearly no day when this man wouldn't make her laugh, and if when happened because after all this time she could still drive him crazy so easily... even better. She lowered her head for another soft kiss while her thigh slowly rubbed against that promising hardness forming under his pants. A promise clear enough.

"Come on."

When she stood up, she took his shirt with her, carefully easing it over the bandage covering his side before pulling it over his head and throwing it in the laundry basket. For a quick second her fingertips grazed one of his nipples, then she bent over the small niche next to the clothes washer, reaching for the large washing pan waiting there.

"Wait for me on the sofa? I can't promise I'll keep my hands off you if you stay", she grinned, leaning back against the sink while the pan filled.

[broken_arrow]

Clint let out a disappointed groan when she pulled away, but he cooperated when she removed his shirt. Of course she could still drive him crazy, no amount of time nor distance was going to change that. In fact, it probably only heightened it. His body remembered her touch, her warmth, how it felt to be inside of her, and after so long it craved the experience like a drug.

Part of him wanted to skip the bath and haul her off to bed right then, or maybe on that fur rug in front of the fire, but, well... he hadn’t known she was actually coming, and being stuck here all by himself he hadn’t really been too concerned with proper hygiene. A bath before she got too close was probably a good idea.

“You’re not making a very good case for me leaving,” he said, but now that he had the previous thought in his head he did actually listen and made his way to the door, something that he predicted she would probably find quite surprising.

[russianchildatprayer]

"You're being very obedient today."

Natasha watched him leave, eyes unashamed fixed on his ass, and made sure to focus more on that remaining purr than the smile in her voice, letting him know, she wasn't averse to some more playing at all. But she didn't follow him, or they wouldn't get very far with the bath. Clint looked heated up enough already...

And admittedly, when she quickly peeled out of her own clothes after closing the door, to take care with another razor blade of certain areas, she found her own skin flushed and sensitive. Begging for the touch she remembered so well.

She forced herself to redress before temptation to touch herself could grow too big, to take care of some of that urging heat between her legs. No need to do it herself when next door the man she longed for so much waited. She didn't bother to put on underwear though and knew, Clint would see it even through the baggy sweatshirt.

With some simple soap added to the water, smelling faintly of salt, and a soft washcloth in her hand, she returned to the living room and put the washing pan down on the sofa table before retaking her place on Clint's thigh. With one layer of fabric less between them, the touch of the solid muscular surface against her already sensitive center had her draw in her breath softly, eyes fluttering close for a moment. Somehow she put herself together and reached for that cloth, wringing it out before gently placing it against his neck.

"Relax, hotshot."

[broken_arrow]

Clint didn’t respond to her last comment, instead removing himself to the living room before he lost all willpower to do so. Once he was safely out of that electrified proximity bubble he gave his whole body a shake before moving over to sit on the sofa again. He listened to the sound of the water filling the basin in the other room and ran through his usual myriad of unsexy thoughts, so by the time Natasha joined him again he was in much better shape.

It lasted all of sixty seconds.

The way she drew that breath and closed her eyes there was no mistaking that just the pressure against her as she sat on his lap gave her pleasure, and that was all it took to get his motor revving again.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, but he was a little too keyed up to really relax. Closing his eyes, he focused on the soft, damp cloth as she moved it over his skin, cleaning away the last few days, the last few weeks without her, the last few decades that had crumbled around him. He had been thinking he had lost everything, but he hadn’t. He still had her, and that would be enough to get him through anything.

[russianchildatprayer]

Clint's quick, shallow breathing never really evened, and his pulse raced under her fingertips. Especially when she moved the cloth over sensitive parts like his neck, his sides, his nipples. So Natasha was very aware of course, that there was no real relaxation in sight anytime soon.

But it was enough for the moment to keep her hands off him, other than to treat his skin with these firm, slow strokes, much more careful when she reached his injured side. By the time the cloth grazed the hem of his pants, dripping a few spots of water on the rough fabric, it was unmistakable, there was still some interest going on there. Natasha had to actively keep herself from moving her hand right there to this enticing bulge and try out if she could still drive Clint crazy as easily as it used to be. They weren't done yet.

But the smile remained on her lips when she moved to kneel down right before him on the floor, taking the rest of his clothes with her with quick, efficient movements, and then gently parted his legs to sit between them and continue her work. Of course she only chose that position to have best access to the lower regions of his body, with no second thoughts at all. Definitely.

That damp, sticky spot in the crotch of her own pants, from where she hadn't been able to resist rubbing herself against him, betrayed that intention, though, just like her own skin heated with growing desire and the faint scent of her arousal lying in the air. Goddamnit, she wanted him, and soon.

Only the sight of his remaining scars and that fresh bandage on his leg dampened these unchaste thoughts. Though she tried to be especially careful there too, being so close to him now, she could all but count all these wounds his last mission had left, and the memory left her shivering for much less exciting reasons this time. She made sure to softly kiss every single one of these new fading lines after she had cleaned his skin, and then rest her head against his knee with a quiet sigh for a moment, trying to get rid of this new wave of melancholy.

[broken_arrow]

Natasha was very meticulous and thorough, and while there was still a hint of teasing in her movements she was also very careful whenever she reached one of his many fading injuries. Many of them were only bruises that had faded to yellow, but there were other nicks and cuts that were easily ignored, especially when faced with his more obvious injuries.

He could feel her warmth and dampness permeating through his his pant leg where she sat and knew she wasn’t completely unaffected either, but when she moved to kneel between his legs, stripping him of the rest of his clothes and pushing his knees apart, there was absolutely no pretense he could keep up that he wasn’t completely turned on.

Clint watched, mesmerized, as she cleaned his feet, his legs. When she started pressing gentle kisses to his skin his mouth went dry, but he could see the change in her, could tell that her playful mood had faded. It had to happen sooner or later, but he had been hoping for later.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a hand through her hair. “Why don’t you go grab another cloth and towel and let me finish up here, then I’ll do you. I mean wash you.”

[russianchildatprayer]

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.

[broken_arrow]

The giggle made his heart skip and he felt rather proud that he could win such a noise out of the Black Widow, but then that wasn’t who she was now, not when she was alone with him. Maybe the Black Widow didn’t giggle, but Natasha did, his Tasha. She was warm and caring and funny and he was crazy about her. Other men saw the Black Widow and fell in instant lust, but it was Natasha that Clint had fallen in love with.

He appreciated her attempt at recapturing the mood, even though deep down he knew he shouldn’t be trying so hard to hold on to it. They had to talk about it all eventually, where they would go and what they would do now, but he just wanted one day, one day to pretend that it was just the two of them in the entire world with nothing but time to reacquaint themselves with each other. One day wasn’t too much to wish for, was it?

“Okay, but just... the offer’s there, okay?” he said. He knew he should stop her, tell her she didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to do anything, not for him, but when she started sucking at the skin of his thigh, her eyes locked on his, he seemed to forget how to speak. By the time she reached his waiting erection he had forgotten how to breathe. Then she suddenly pulled him bodily forward and he let out a surprised laugh. The wound in his side pulled slightly but he paid it no mind, instead relaxing his shoulders and sagging back into the sofa though he kept his head raised, his eyes watching her every movement. He held his breath, anticipating her next action... and then she abruptly pulled away and returned to her cleaning duties.

Damn.

After that he knew she was just teasing him, making a task that should have taken two minutes stretch out, and by the time she finally wrapped her hand around him he was practically vibrating with anticipation and desire. Sucking in a breath at the feel of the rough cloth running over his skin, Clint closed his eyes and concentrated on not thrusting up into her hand and just letting this play out her way.

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha had meant to drag this out a little more, maybe insist on that bath Clint had offered in return before doing anything less clinical.

But then she watched relax back against the sofa, not even looking at her, completely putting himself in her hands. A certain, long missed warmth filled her, so deep and powerful it finally pushed most of that coldness out of her soul. He trusted her... Maybe he was the only person on the planet who really trusted her.

Everyone else she had thought to be close with, had either let her down or made it quite clear lately that she wasn't any more trustworthy than your next best HYDRA sleeper. That hurt more than she would have wanted to admit.

Only with Clint showing her how safe he felt with her, even after all that had happened, she realized how much this had nagged on her, not having anyone around her who considered her even as a loyal ally. Clint had never questioned her because of her past, or because of the things she too often did in her job. He knew, she had never and would never hurt him, not if she could help it, and that was all that counted between them.

With this relief and happiness suddenly overtaking, she couldn't bring herself to make him wait further, to not at least try and make him feel good, distract him from everything that had happened for a while.

That and the inconsiderable fact that she simply loved his body and especially certain parts of it, and Clint was the only man to ever make her enjoy giving head. And it was no different this time.

As soon as she finally put that cloth away and closed her lips softly around the tip of his cock, a new warm shudder of arousal hit her. Her breath played against his sensitive skin in a soft sigh when she tasted his familiar salty note, tender skin, hard throbbing flesh filling her mouth perfectly as she slowly lowered her head, taking him in inch by inch.

Her hand rested gently on his good thigh, caressing him in slow, soothing circles while the other, still wet from that cloth, wandered up the inside of his other leg, avoiding the slightly damp bandage. Her fingertips dipped playfully between his firm round ass cheeks and then further up until his balls were in her palm and she started to carefully roll and massage them between her fingers. All the time, her eyes were still glued to his face, hungry to watch him react and surrender to her even more.

[broken_arrow]

Of course he felt safe with her; he felt safer with her than he ever had on his own. For the past few weeks he had been wary or even his own shadow, but now that she was with him he could finally relax, could finally believe that maybe things would be alright. Everything was changing, everything would be different, but he still had Natasha and that meant everything.

He knew her, knew more about her than anyone else did, had known much of what she revealed to the world long before that fateful day at the Triskellion, and he accepted her just as she was. She had done some horrible things, but he knew any true desire to do them hadn’t been there. She did what she had felt she had to do, but with him she only had to do what she wanted to do. He trusted her, fully and completely. Trusted her to watch his back, to hold his heart; trusted her with his thoughts, his feelings, his body. To him this was completely natural, and with his eyes closed he didn’t register how much that trust and surrender meant to her.

He heard the splash of the cloth being dropped in the wash basin about a second before he felt her lips close around him and he sucked in a sharp breath. It had been far too long, and he had so much pent up emotion inside that he had the disappointing feeling that he wasn’t going to last long here. Natasha was an expert, and he was already moaning when she cupped his balls, working them perfectly.

[russianchildatprayer]

Pleasuring Clint came back to her as naturally as dropping all her covers when they were alone, or remembering how he liked his coffee. They hadn't been with each other as often as they would have liked but some things you didn't just forget.

His noises of pleasure both made her happy and heated that waiting fire in her own body further. She resisted temptation to slip her free hand between her legs bravely, simply because she really wanted Clint to do that. Later, after she was done driving him crazy.

Instead she continued to caress his warm, taut skin, nails slightly digging in the flinching muscles of his thigh, and concentrated fully on relearning all these certain preferences that made him so pliant to her administrations. Like finding just the right pressure of working his balls, fingertips softly rubbing down the sensitive line of the backside to the rough patch of skin underneath and back up. Or hollowing her cheeks tightly when she slowly bobbed her head up and down, wetting the tender skin, feeling him throb and fill out even harder.

It made her just hotter for him and she had to press her thighs together tightly, moaning at the feeling of the rough pants fabric rubbing against her damp folds. Which didn't really help the building heat. With just a hint of frustration mixing into another moan, she wrapped her arm around Clint's back to caress him everywhere she could reach, resting heavily on her elbows on the sofa now, and tried her best to keep his nails away from his skin as desire grew. This was for him.

The tip of her tongue found the underside of his glans, one more good spot she thought to remember, and rubbed flat against it while she softly hummed around him, encouraging him to let go. She needed him to let go. Needed to see it, to feel it that he put himself in her hands like that, completely forgetting his surroundings, because he knew, she always had his back.

[broken_arrow]

Every movement she made was sweet, unadulterated torture. It had been a long time since they had been together like this but she still remembered exactly how to touch him and where to elicit maximum pleasure. She could draw this out if she really wanted, but the way she was working him it was clear she wasn’t going for endurance here.

Good, because he didn’t think he could hold off very long.

Gripping the edge of the sofa cushion in his hands, Clint dug his fingers in to stop himself from tangling them in her hair or bruising her skin. He was panting and moaning and it took him a moment to realise that not all those sounds were his. She was getting off on this, getting so fucking hot and bothered just from sucking his dick, and that idea alone drove him to the very edge while the pressure of her tongue and the vibration she made in her throat pushed him over. He didn’t have time to warn her before he came with a loud groan.