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]

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.

[russianchildatprayer]

She could feel him twitch in her eagerly working mouth, feel the tension in the heated flesh between her fingers and knew, he was close enough. And though temptation was there, she didn't tighten her grasp, didn't try to keep him on the edge for a while like she had done it so often in the past. This was supposed to be a short, intense moment of pleasure, not some power game. They could always do that in one of these lonely nights of healing to come.

Instead she pressed her tongue against him just a little tighter and sucked him down eagerly when she could feel and hear him start coming, his familiar salty taste filling her mouth. She made sure to swallow down everything very thoroughly - really, she had just cleaned him up after all - and gently caress his oversensitive skin with just her lips and the tip of her tongue when he was spent.

Right as if nothing had happened at all, she reached for that clothe again then and gently, very carefully wiped his cock and balls over once more before she pushed away the pan for good. A soft, satisfied smile was on her lips when she got up to reach for the blanket from yesterday still draped in the corner of the sofa and wrapped it around his nude body before leaning down for a light kiss.

She was still more turned on than she wanted to admit but she didn't want to push him, not now, not today. Right now she was fully content with watching him blissed out and more relaxed than ever since her arrival.

[broken_arrow]

She drank him down greedily, not a drop missed, and damn if that wasn’t hot too. Every fucking thing she did was hot, he swore, and not only because it had been months since he’d seen her and had anything but his own hand to get himself off.

While she proceeded to clean him up Clint kept his head flopped back on the sofa and tried to catch his breath. All these weeks of pent up tension, of wondering if he was on his own now, if he had to make a whole new life for himself... all of it was gone, vanished, leaving him completely relaxed. In that moment he felt like he didn’t have a care in the world.

When Natasha wrapped the blanket around him and stole a quick kiss, he reached out and pulled her back down onto his leg where she had sat previously. “Now I think I owe you a bath too...” he said, lifting his head and grinning lazily at her.

[russianchildatprayer]

"You don't owe me anything", Natasha answered softly, just on this side too serious, to let him know she didn't just mean the bath.

They were long beyond terms like owing and repaying. She was here because she wanted to and she could just hope, he felt the same.

But she curled happily into his side anyway when he pulled her close and buried her face against his neck to enjoy the feeling of his damp, clean shaven and still sensitive skin. His well-known smell was intoxicating, reviving more memories of these few nights when they had shut out the world, pretended nothing out there mattered, only what the two of them had and shared.

These had been nice nights, to say the least, on the very top of her list of good memories in all these last years. They definitely could use some of that blissful ignorance now. Too bad they weren't five years younger.

She tried her best to keep still, to not press her groin against his thigh again too obviously, but that little intercourse had left her oversensitive, and she either took a seat next to him right away or she took a very cold shower instead of that bath. It had to be either one before this could become embarrassing.

"Of course, if you're in the mood... Never saying no to a bath by my favorite teammate."

[broken_arrow]

Despite the seriousness of her tone, Clint chuckled at the reply. It had taken him years to convince her that she didn’t owe him anything, and it sounded funny to hear those words coming from her lips. “Figure of speech,” he murmured when she snuggled into his side. Grinning when she nuzzled against his cleanly shaven jaw, he ran his hand along her leg, gently caressing her thigh in an almost absentminded manner.

Being here with her, like this, he was definitely on board with the idea of shutting the rest of the world out, even if it was only a day or two. No talk of SHIELD or HYDRA, of agents lost or the world against them. Just the two of them in this little cabin in the woods, reminding each other that not all was lost and that there were still things in the world to be happy about.

Taking a deep, content breath, Clint swore he could smell her arousal, could feel her building heat through the thin material of her pants. When she spoke again his grin widened.

“Am I in the mood... pfft,” he scoffed. “And I better be your favourite.” Stealing a quick kiss, he made a motion for her to let him up. “Lemme just get a little more hot water and a clean cloth.”

[russianchildatprayer]

Natasha really didn't want to get up, except if she got up now, that bath would happen faster and she could already prepare her part of that bargain.

Pretending to pout just a little, she let him go, very much enjoying the show of seeing his bare backside from behind and then quickly peeled her way out of her clothes. Her pants came off suspiciously sticky in the crotch and she quickly rolled them into her shirt to hide it, with a rueful grin. He still didn't have it in him, definitely.

Curling under that blanket, with only hare bare shoulders and her head peering out, she grinned at him most innocently, waiting for him to take his place next to her again.

"Don't let it get to your head, Barton, but you've always been my favorite."

[broken_arrow]

He couldn’t resist nipping at that pouty little lip of hers before picking up the basin of water and heading for the bathroom. He moved a bit slower than usual with the wounds, but it just gave her more time to ogle his assets before he disappeared from site.

Dumping the water into the waste water collection, he set the basin to fill up again while he ran out the cloth she had used and hung it on the rack before procuring a clean one. While he had a few minutes he brushed his teeth and admired his cleanly shaven face in the mirror. His hair was still a little long but not too bad, and with the beard gone he looked a little younger and definitely less haggard than he had just yesterday. He would just have to come up with a different disguise if he needed one.

Collecting the pan of water up once more he limped his way back out to the living room to find Natasha wrapped up and looking rather adorable. “Good to know,” he said with a chuckle as he set the pan on one end of the sofa before reclaiming his seat in the middle and beside her again. The wound in his side felt better by the day, but leaning over constantly to reach the pan on the floor would’t help. He would just have to make sure to set it down if things got a little frisky so they didn’t end up soaking the sofa. “I’d be heartbroken if you said anyone else.”

Wringing out the cloth, he raised one eyebrow at her before patting his good leg. Having her sit on his lap would probably be the best position to reach every inch of her.

[russianchildatprayer]

"Don't worry. No one can keep up with you for me, hotshot", Natasha chuckled, wrapping her arm around his waist under that blanket for another moment of cuddling.

The feeling of his bare skin against hers had her shiver in the most pleasurable way. By now the fire warmed the room again, better than yesterday in fact... Or maybe it was just that she was too fucking hot on him right now to think clear. She didn't care either way. It felt good and things that felt good had become seldom.

When he motioned her to take her former seat, she bit her lower lip, playing coy for a moment, her cheeks flushing pink. Now that they were both robbed off their clothes, there was no way he would miss what pleasuring him, being close to him had done to her. Oh well. It wasn't like she could fool him anyway, not even if she tried. He was one of the few people who always saw her through.

With that blanket still half wrapped around her, she got up slowly, withstanding temptation to straddle his leg like before- that would put an end to every left control quite efficiently, when she felt his delicious muscles playing against her bared center. Instead she reached down to gently push his legs apart and got comfortable on his good side then again, with her arm placed around his middle.

That very healthy color was still staining her cheeks when she put that blanket around both of them, finally revealing her unclothed body fully to him. She wasn't exactly at her best right now with that bandaged, banged up shoulder, and last time they had been together, she had had a few pounds more on her body. The months before Washington of babysitting Captain America and trying to hold together an already faltering organization, had taken their toll. She could just hope, he would still like what he saw.

[broken_arrow]

Whether it was the fire or the moment Clint wasn’t sure, nor did he care, but whatever it was he certainly wasn’t feeling the cold like he had been yesterday. He wouldn’t have dreamed of walking around buck naked then.

Watching Natasha’s reaction he felt that stirring in the pit of his stomach. Coy yet blushing, she still moved with confidence, her pace leisurely. No rush, they had time; for today, at least, they had all the time in the world.

He could feel her already wet against him when she took her seat on his leg, and even when she opened the blanket to him his eyes stayed fixed on her face, fascinated by the red tinge in her cheeks. What she could possibly have to feel shy or embarrassed about he didn’t know, but he brushed a thumb over one cheek while pressing his lips gently to the other. Only then did he lean back a little and drink in the sight of her. She was thinner than he remembered, maybe even a little paler, but she still had the best body he had ever seen, scars and all. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, running his hand up her thigh and over her hip to rest on her ribs.

[russianchildatprayer]

It was one of the things she loved so much about this man... He always said words like these like he really meant them. Not to flatter her, or out of politeness, or because he wanted something from her. Just because he felt like it. And even when she definitely wasn't at her best.

Her arm closed a little tighter around him, high enough to not bother his injured side. She just had to lean down for another kiss, sweet, light, since his taste was still in her mouth, with her other hand chastely resting on his chest, right above his heart. She loved how she could feel it beat already faster again, in spite or maybe because of what she had just done to him minutes ago.

Before she could get second thoughts again, she quickly dropped her hand and let him get to work before that water would cool down. Even if it was just a short, necessary sponge bath... She really wanted his hands on her now. She needed his touch, and if it was just to remember, she was actually a human being, someone's other, his partner and lover, and not only all these other things that had been thrown in her face lately. All of them true, sure... But Clint had always had a way to show her, she could be more of that. More than blood.

[broken_arrow]

When she kissed him she still tasted like salt, still tasted like him, and fuck that was hot. All too soon, though, she was pulling away and it was time to get to work before he had to go get more hot water. Wringing out the wash cloth he carefully wiped it over her face, treating her skin like delicate silk. She really was beautiful, the most beautiful person he had ever know, inside and out. He loved that she let him do this, let him touch her and worship her and admire her beauty.

Dunking the cloth again he lifted her hair out of the way with one hand while running the cloth over the back of her neck and one shoulder. He skirted around her bandage, instead ducking his head to place a gentle kiss over it before washing her arm and each individual finger. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t resist following the cloth and softly kissing each of her fingertips, raising his eyes to her face as he did so.

[russianchildatprayer]

That damn shoulder was still swollen, though the infection clearly died down now that Natasha finally gave her arm the needed rest. But when Clint's soft mouth touched her skin, his breath and his beard tickled her, it felt hot for a whole different reason...

That intense look from just a moment ago, when he had treated her face like she was a china doll... The way he worked her skin, so very gentle and slowly, like a conservator would touch a piece of art... It was this kind of behavior, so true and committed and affectionate, that made being with him always so different from all the other guys, job-related or - much more seldom - private pleasure wise. That was why Natasha always came back to him and hardly had made more than half-assed attempts of hooking up with anyone else in the past.

Clint and her were best friends, she respected and admired him, she owed him everything and he was a God in bed, but all of that... All of that faded to pale when he held and touched her like he did now. Like... he really meant it.

She still was shivering, especially when his lips touched her fingers next and he looked up at her like that from below, as if he didn't know what that did to her. But it wasn't just arousal, not only. It was all these feelings she usually kept so deeply hidden inside, that no one was ever allowed to see, not if she didn't want to make herself a target. She had been Clint's target in the past and he had decided to miss her, to not take that shot.

With him she could let all these masks drop, and show him, with her small, excited smile, the way she bit her lip, how impatient he was making her right now. And that she loved every second of it.

One fingertip teasingly slipped between his lips, and just the lightest, shortest touch of his tongue had her draw in a short, hot breath and shift a little on his leg. Not too surprising that she left his skin damp and warm before the cloth had even come close to her groin.

[broken_arrow]

He could feel her shivering, but from the flush of her skin and the look in her eyes he knew it wasn’t because she was cold. It was that knowledge of her that kept him from dropping the whole thing, wrapping her up and moving over to the fire where it was warmer.

She was so beautiful like this, stripped bare, and not just of her clothes. No masks, no walls, no hard shells to protect herself. She was willing and wanting and entirely her, the caring and wonderful woman too few people truly knew.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, to that little smile and the way she worried her lower lip, but immediately found her eyes again following her instant reaction to the touch of his tongue to her finger. That sharp breath, the involuntary movement, and fuck if she wasn’t wet already. He didn’t want to torture here, didn’t want to hold out on her after she had been so accommodating to his needs, but he still had a job to do.

He didn’t spend as much time on her other hand before brushing her hair over on shoulder and angling her forward slightly to scrub down her back, cloth just skimming over the tops of that perfect buttocks of hers before he indicated she lean back again. “Foot,” he instructed, rinsing out the cloth again and tapping one of her legs.