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twisted round your finger

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They stumbled through the door, barely getting it closed behind them before they were on each other again, mouths fused together in a hot, wet kiss.

"C'mon, Nat, we've gotta slow it down a little if you want this to be any good," Clint panted as he lowered his lips from her mouth to her throat.

"Nuh-uh," she mumbled, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and running her hands down his cotton covered chest until she reached the little sliver of skin between his shirt and his jeans. She slid her fingers along his skin then wiggled them inside the denim to run her thumb over the head of his dick, making him shudder.

"Natasha…Dammit," he groaned, his lips still against her throat. "Don't."

She drew her thumb against him again. "Don't?"

He lifted his head, pupils blown with desire. His voice was desperate with wanting when he spoke. "Not if you want to get anything out of this."

Her answering smirk should have warned him that she'd take it as a challenge instead of a warning, but by then she was reaching up to pull his mouth to hers again and he kind of lost track of the conversation.

He made a small noise of frustration when she did finally withdraw her hand, but she made up for the loss by stroking the length of him through his jeans, making him moan again and push hard against her palm. He barely noticed when she flicked open the button on his pants or worked his zipper down. It wasn't until her small, hot hand pushed past his boxers and circled his bare flesh that it registered and by then it was too late. She'd barely stroked him half a dozen times before he realized just how far gone he was.

He tried to warn her again, but she cut him off with another searing kiss and he was helpless to do anything more than thrust into her hand one last time, his thick hot come making a mess across her palm and in his shorts.

Afterwards, he leaned his forehead against hers, panting hard.

"Fuck, Natasha, what the hell was that?" he demanded.

She smirked at him as she wiped her hand across his boxers. "We'll have to work on your sex ed if you don't know."

He couldn't help it: he laughed. Raising his head, he kissed her quick and hard.

"I'm well acquainted with what it is to get jacked off," he said. "I meant why?"

She shrugged. "I like making you feel good."

"Then let me make you feel good, too," he said, kissing her again and then falling to his knees. He pushed up her top and placed a wet hot kiss against her stomach and she sighed, tangling her fingers in his hair.

"You definitely know how to make a girl feel wanted," she breathed.

He peered up at her, eyes hooded. "Enough that you might like some more?"

"God, yes," she answered, leaning heavily against the wall.

He grinned and kissed her stomach again, before unbuttoning her jeans and working them down her legs.

"Lift," he commanded, raising first her left foot then the right so he could pull her them and her underwear off completely.

Spreading her legs with his hands, he kissed his way up her inner thigh, pausing just below the patch of red fuzz between her legs. He looked up briefly to see that her head was back and her eyes were closed, her breathing coming in labored gasps. With a grin, he nuzzled the thatch of hair with his nose for a moment before pushing his face further between her legs to taste her, making her shudder.

When she tugged at his hair, mumbling about him taking his time, he grinned and moved his mouth up to suck at her clit, making her come within moments, a string of Russian curses on her tongue.


They kept their hands to themselves all through the flight home, didn't touch one another even casually as they suffered through the debriefing, and there wasn't so much as a pinky touching as they strode through the corridors of the Triskelion. But the second they were through the door to Clint's quarters they started tugging at each other's uniforms, the rush of adrenaline from the mission making them both horny as hell.

"Bed?" Clint asked against her lips.

"Maybe," she answered, pushing him against the wall and trailing her fingers down his chest to stroke the hard ridge of his erection. "Depends."

He thrust against her hand and groaned. "On?"

"On how quickly I can get you out of this thing," she said.

Clint pulled back from kissing her. "Are we in a rush?"

"Maybe," she said, grinning. "Or maybe I just want to see how easily I can get you off."

He laughed and pulled her hand away from his groin. "Not gonna work this time, Nat. The fabric's too thick."

"You think so?" she asked, sliding her hand further down his body to work at disengaging the strap across his thigh.

"I know so," he said smugly, pulling the zipper of her tac suit down to expose her totally utilitarian but still sexy as hell underthings. He pushed a hand inside and cupped her breast, his thumb stroking a nipple. "Besides, you've got less to get off. This time, the win's going to be mine."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Natasha muttered, kissing him again. She jerked the leather strap free and then palmed his erection again through the thick fabric of his uniform, squeezing just hard enough to make him shudder with pleasure.

"Not so confident now are you, Barton?" she teased, her teeth biting down on his lower lip. She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin. "I"m going to fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name when I'm done."

He groaned again and pushed some more at the fabric of her uniform, tugging it off her shoulders and down. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she promised huskily, her hands continuing to work against the leather and kevlar of his suit. "But first...."

"First?" he breathed, his own hands skimming across her skin and cupping her ass.

"First, I'm gonna take you in my hand and make you so hard that you're begging me to make you come," she said as she finally finished unfastening the constraints of his uniform and freeing his erection.

She stroked him slowly, her hand sliding up and over the head then down to the base over and over again until he was panting with need. Only then did she move away from him to finish stepping out of her uniform and lay on the bed, spreading her legs invitingly.

Not even bothering to remove the rest of his suit now that his dick was free, he knelt between her thighs and thrust home. He'd barely taken more than a few strokes when she started to whisper in his ear about how hot he made her. Before long, he was thrusting in earnest, all finesse and patience gone.

"Oh Christ, Natasha… Oh damn, I can't… I'm gonna..." He trailed off with a gurgle, back arching as he came, pumping hard and fast into her.
Completely spent, he collapsed against her and buried his face in her hair. "Shit, Natasha, I'm sorry."

"For starting the party without me?" she laughed, fingers tracing lightly along his spine as she shifted her legs against his.

"Yeah. Something like that," he mumbled into her shoulder.

She smiled. "You've still got plenty of time to make things up to me."

He pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at her. "Oh, I plan to."

She raised a brow at him challengingly. "Show me whatcha got."

"These," he answered, lifting his hand and waggling his fingers in front of her face.

She grinned and leaned up to pull the tip of his index finger into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it for a moment before she let it go with a wet pop.

"That's a good start," she said huskily.

Eyes still on hers, he traced the finger down her chin and throat, then along the side of her breast, before sliding it down her side and between their bodies.
He was still semi-hard inside her as he fingered her clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles around the bundle of nerves until she was squirming with frustration. Only then did he press hard against it, making her come with a shuddering sigh.

When she finally regained her breath, she grinned wickedly up at him.

"This win is still mine."


Try as she might, Natasha was failing to get the best of Clint and by the time he tumbled her to the bed, she was the one panting and begging for release. He took his time though, teasing her with his mouth and hands, touching her everywhere but the place she craved most.

She practically whimpered when his hand ghosted along her inner thigh. But then he quickly detoured it to her hip and she gritted her teeth as she tried to hold back her frustration. "Clint."

"Not so much fun when it's you getting tortured, is it?" he teased as he pulled a nipple into his mouth.

"Dammit, Barton," she breathed, arching up into him. "I can't… I want… Oooooh! I need you to fuck me. Now. Please."

It was the please that got him. He chuckled and spread her legs, his fingers finally seeking out her wet folds. He'd barely touched her when her hips started bucking and she came, her breath coming out in harsh pants.

He laughed and sucked at her throat as she slowly came back down from her high.

"Christ, Barton, that was…"

"What you've been doing to me for weeks," he said, shifting until he was situated between her legs and pushing home with a grunt. "Turnabout is fair play, Nat."

She gasped and tilted her hips up toward his. "Maybe, but you have to admit it's been a lot of fun."

"Maybe," he grunted, leaning down and kissing her, hard and fierce. "But from now on, no more games."

"None?" she asked, giving him a little squeeze as he began to thrust in earnest. "At all?"

He laughed at the small pout forming on her deliciously kiss swollen lips and kissed her again.

"Maybe a few," he conceded, his movements speeding up.

"Oh good," she breathed. "I'd hate to think we'd turn into the kind of couple who just had plain old vanilla sex all the time."

He meant to laugh at that, but damned if she didn't feel so fantastically hot and wet. He wasn't going to last much longer. Reaching down between them, he fingered her to a second orgasm just as his own hit.

Spent and more than a little exhausted, he rolled off of her and burrowed into her side, nuzzling her shoulder.

As his eyes closed, he felt her fingers in his hair and heard her soft voice in his ear. "I think this time, we can agree we both win."