In the middle of the night, she makes her way toward his couch, staring at Clint deep asleep in such a manner that probably even a rat would find him somehow repulsive. And yet, with blankets on the floor, drooling, snoring and limbs everywhere, he is kind of… well, adorable, for the lack of a better word. Besides, the skin she can see is tanned over a muscled and tense body, which is not such an awful show.
(She has stopped long ago denying that he is, indeed, a rather fine specimen of the male population.)
She grunts, and turns on her heels, shaking her head as to cast away such a dangerous and damn stupid thought. She doesn’t even know where it came from. Maybe... maybe she is still a tiny bit (a lot) mad and annoyed with the jerk for the remark about the fact that she is the only female in the whole wide world he would never, ever sleep with. No girl likes to hear something like that. Nobody should think such a thing- let alone saying it at loud at the girl in question. Especially him, with his lover-boy, womanizer past, free spirit who had adventures (in bed) with every woman he had met... Tygra, Wasp, Scarlett, Black Widow, She-Hulk, Bobbi, Jessica... and so many more (a doom-bot included. The jerk slept with a doom-bot, although unknowingly to him, and he doesn’t want to sleep with her. Jerk. Absolute jerk). In short: picks a female name from the Avenger roster (even better, the super-hero community, heroes and villains alike- yes, he has slept with a few villains as well. What a jerk. What an absolute jerk!), and there is a 90% chance she had slept with the guy.
Everybody but her.
And... it is not fair. Nope. Because, ok, she could understand if he was into monogamy, but since they had started this "getting things right" thing, it is not like he has been such a faithful boyfriend or whatever. The jerk sleeps around (feeling bad about it afterwards, all right, but he is still sleeping around. Thanks God Jessica was well aware of what she was getting herself into when she first kissed him…).
Only, he doesn’t even want to contemplate the thought of sleeping with her- let alone the actual sleep part.
And she is mad and frustrated- but mostly, mad.
With Clint, because he is still a womanizer but he doesn’t womanize her (not that shew would particularly care anyway- she isn’t exactly the kind of girl who likes being wined and wined, she is more of a predator), and because he doesn’t understand that she would be abso-bloody-lutely cool about a secret “team-mates with benefits” thing.
With Eli, because he just took off without even bothering with a good-bye, leaving in a blink the team, her, and town.
With Protector- or whatever his code-name currently is- because he can’t get his ex out of his head.
(And she may or may not be still mad with Tommy. He is a bit hot and cold, but all right, she can understand it, coming from him. He is a speedster, after all. He lives things at a different speed from them. But, still, how could he be crazy about her one day and date half the girls at hottest club in town the next?)
She is even mad with herself, because she should just get a grip and take what she wants without thinking too much about it, and the hell with consequences.
After all, she did almost died today. And not because of a super-criminal. Nope, no way. Just some casual thief. And she has been saved by normal people. Not by him. Because he was too busy with… well, whatever Clint was doing.
Is she really thinking about whatever this is a smart move or not? Because she shouldn’t. She should remember life is short and she should take what is hers- or supposed to, anyway.
(Well, not really hers, but...close enough.)
She turns on heels once again, and this time she moves for the kill; she approaches the couch like she was a lioness, and starts poking him with her index, but Clint doesn’t answer. He just tosses around on the couch, he mumbles something but he doesn’t show any signs that he has any intention of getting up and taking care of her "issues".
She tries to call him, shouting his name between closed teeth, in a whispered tone, but nothing.
Well, if he does not want to wake up gently... she will have to play bad cop with him.
(Now, she thinks grinning, that could be fun...)
"Clint!" she screams his name, at loud, and he wakes up suddenly, jumping on his feet like it was the end of the world, convulsively looking for his weapons underneath the piece of furniture.
"What? How? When? Where?" He asks, in panic, and if she wasn’t so amused by the whole scene, she would consider him a pretty pathetic exemplar of the male population (or maybe a rather cute and adorable specimen of the male population. Which, in her modest opinion, may or may not be worse than considering him plain sexy).
"Bed. Now." She simply orders, pointing a finger in direction of the aforementioned room.
"Uhm?" He asks, and she simply repeats the gesture, without adding a word. Clint keeps rubbing his face, but when he sees that Kate is not giving up, he decides that it is his time to- completely misreading the situation.
Lucky bastard that I am. She took pity on me and has decided to allow me to sleep a few hours in my bed! Grinning like the Cheshire cat, he walks into his own room at closed eyes, and falls head first on the brand new, so, so soft mattress, sighing in pleasure, and then...
She pokes him. Again. And again and again and again.
And he doesn’t like it.
"What the hell?!" He screams, turning, facing her rabid. He is so not in the mood for her games right now and... and... and...
God help him, she is standing there, at the feet of the bed, completely naked, with her arms crossed.
Arms crossed that did nothing if not emphasizing her breasts. Perfect breasts. Full. Big enough to fill his hungry hands and...
He shakes his head, panicking. He so did not just thought that about her. Nope. No way. He can Not think such a thing about his Katie. No way. No matter she is not the same kid - 12 years or so younger than him kid -he met years priors. No matter she is (some kind of) an adult right now. Nope. He so did not just think about her in that way. Not simply because she just propositioned to him. No freaking way.
Ok, he just did.
And he can’t stop thinking about her in such a way now. Not unless…
"Katie..." He looks at her, gulping down a mouthful of saliva, but he knows that he is the first one who’s not convinced. Temptation is one of his weak spots, women the other one. Together... they are a dangerous, deadly mix.
But what a way to die.
She closes the distance between them, and surprises Clint with a kiss, open-mouthed, liquid fire running through their veins as she licks his lips, demanding access. He grants her said wish, and she is suddenly on top of him, her fingernails leaving a bloody pattern on every inch of skin she can get her hands on.
He doesn’t care. Because this, she is too exhilarating, too good, too right to just stop it now. He cannot, because, right here right now, he decides that he is an addict and that she is his favorite fix- and always will be.
What was the saying? Something along the lines of "young, wild and free"... and she is all of that, and so much more. And she makes him feel the same, like he was the kid from the carnie all over again, seeking every day a new adventure in the dangerous and mysterious world.
Life can really be beautiful.
And they have barely started playing with each other…
He bites her lobe and, at the same time, with one hand he pushes her on the small of her back, trying to get her close, impossibly close, inebriated by the sensation of her naked skin against his own. He grabs her breast, with such a strength that it hurts, it hurts so good... she arches her back, getting closer and closer, her chest in his face, and temptation is there yet again. And this time he doesn’t resist, and he takes the other nipple in his mouth, biting it hard.
She cries, and then, she shivers, and in that moment, he knows: Katie likes it hard. Katie, who just had an orgasm. He made her came... and if her look is of any indication... Her eyes are huge, and she is kind of... surprised, and half embarrassed, like she has never let it go in such a way before. She looks at him with a mixture of lust, sweetness, and even some kind of gratitude. He wonders if she has ever felt something like that, if Eli and Speed ever made her feel this way. He doubts it. Eli is too much of a gentleman, sweet and soft and just plain (he bets vanilla is his favorite taste when it comes to sex), and Speed is too much of a self-centered ass-hole (for lack of a worse word) to have even just thought about giving pleasure to her first thing first.
His Katie needed-needs- a real man. She needs him.
He grins satisfied like an old pervert (every reason of feeling that way, every reason of thinking of being one) his mouth still around her nipple, and between heavy lids, he looks at her, coming down from her high; he feels her irregular breathing against his moist skin, feels her crazy heartbeat against his ribcage.
It's exhilarating. And it is not enough. He wants more. He needs to get more. He needs to give her more.
He wants to taste her. On his fingers, on his mouth... he doesn’t care. But he has to taste her. Fill his taste buds with everything that is his Katie.
He keeps playing with her breast with his mouth and with his hand, while the other one, he moves it, slowly, tracing her whole body with a single, soft touch, skimming over the porcelain that is her. He reaches her womanhood, and purrs in pleasure, thinking about the fact that he is about to...
He gulps down a mouthful of saliva, clenching his fists, eyes shout. He can’t even think about it, because if he does... he will get crazy, he will embarrass himself, coming then and there like an inexperienced teenager and because... he is scared. He fears that if he will think too much about it, he'll end up stopping, and he can’t, he just... he has to end it, for both their sakes, or he is pretty sure they’ll both get crazy.
God, she is like a drug. Maybe even worse.
She shivers once again as he skims over her folds, slowly, painfully slowly penetrating her with a single digit. She rocks her hips in his direction, like begging for pity, riding his hand as best as she can in such a position.
He grins, and the breath dies in her throat as he adds another finger, and starts pushing against her clit with the heel of his hand, fingering her with a gesture that sends shivers through her whole body, like a jolt of electricity...
She moans at loud, almost a scream, young and wild and free, and she rides his hand with abandon while he keeps pleasuring her sex and the rest of her body (and her soul too), an hand and his mouth still busy on her breasts, torturing her with a mix of pleasure and pain that it is just too much to resist.
It is too much. But... in a good, marvelous way.
She buries her head in the pillow as she feels his hardness-his huge, adult manhood- against her body, and she would just like for it to be over. Not because she doesn’t like it 8she does- maybe even a little too much for their own good), but it’s just that... she is tired. She wants – need -the real deal. But Clint... Clint loves foreplays; Clint loves making her coming long before using his sex. Damn him... if he will keep this up... she will hurt for days, sore because of too many orgasms.
(Now, that is another interesting thought...)
"C'mon, Katie...let it go. Let it go for me..." He whispers as he finally stops sucking her breast, his breath hot in her ear, and suddenly... she feels it, that she is there; he intensifies the rhythm, getting harder, quicker, and she just gets crazy following it, meeting him half-way, until he adds a single word as he is buried knuckles-wide in her channel.
And come she does, electricity running through her whole being, lost in the sensations, without body, only her sex, the wet sound of her, convulsing around his still thrusting fingers.
He diminishes the rhythm one again, helping her to come down from her height.
She giggles a little as she falls on the bed like a dead weight, out of breath, losing almost consciousness, satisfied and calm like she has never felt before, semi-closed eyes looking at Clint, sat on his knees at the feet of the bed; he stares at her like a predator (although a tender, full of love one), and as he licks his fingers, sighing satisfied as he was eating the most delicious chocolate, he never breaks eye-contact with her.
The tip of his manhood has long escaped his waistband, and she doesn’t know what she should be focused on, if that huge, hard male sex or him eating her juices from his fingers: both possibilities make her crazy with want and lust, and without realizing, she starts slowly fingering herself, a touch so much more gentle than Clint's, enough to thrill but not enough to make her orgasm once again.
"You are a dirty little girl hot for her teacher, eh?" He asks, licking his lips as he stares at her glistening folds.
(Role-play- yet again another very interesting thought.)
She giggles, but doesn’t look at him, and he knows where her eyes are (on his sex). What she wants right here, right now. "You want it, Katie? You want me? You just have to say it..." He breaths, looking at her with something- longing, maybe?- that says maybe even too much about what he knows there’s between them- what he is scared of having with her.
(If she isn’t his, he can’t lose her; if he doesn’t love her, she can’t hurt him if- when- she’ll leave him like all the others have done before Katie.)
She doesn’t say so. Instead, she opts for a simple, and yet extremely direct, "Take me" as she turns, going on all four, giving him a great vision of her derriere.
"God, you are insatiable..." He laughs, happy, shaking his head in amazement as he rubs his hands on her ass, cupping and slapping it for good measure. As predicted, he feels new wetness leaving her body as he does so, new fresh juices of arousal preparing her for the final intrusion, ready to ease his way in.
She looks so tight, so little, so… young. Maybe even too young for him- but now he can’t think about it any longer, it’s too late, they are both gone too far and there’s no coming back from this- never, ever.
He gets rids of his boxers, and takes hold of his sex, rubbing it up and down few times - because he likes to, not for getting it ready, because he, it couldn’t be more ready than this- and then he rubs the tip on her folds, lubing them up with his precum, his breath hot on her neck, his lips burning a path on her soft, delicate skin.
She groans, moving her ass in a way that is supposed to invite him in, to tempt him, because she cannot stand it, this... torture. Whoever said that foreplays are fun, was wrong, oh, so wrong...
He grins, almost evil, and then, without telling her first, he just dos it, he enters her balls deep in a single move, filling her completely all the way to her womb, and it’s so much that she can only gasp; he does as she asked him, taking her like there was no tomorrow, giving her all there is to give of himself- and maybe a little bit more. It’s scary- and he has never been as scared as now, not even when he fought deadly enemies, armed only of his loyal arrows (like going to a gunfire with only your fists)- because he’d like to fool himself, fool themselves both. He’d like to tell her everything we’ll be good, that they’ll forget this come morning, but he can’t, and he knows she feels the same as well: she may have started it like a game, but it’s quickly moved past that stage. Maybe it’s not tender, maybe it’s not vanilla and they are fucking like beasts, like animals in heat, but it’s painfully clear it’s not just sex – more like desperation, love, fear and passion all rolled into one.
Clint shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about it now- not when he has to concentrate on Katie, on making her happy and radiant and satisfied. He takes her, hard and fast, with a steady rhythm she doesn’t understand how he can keep up, and she is completely unable to meet him, to follow him. It’s too much, and she is nothing more than a ragdoll in his arms; it’s pure haven, and this thought alone sends shivers all over her, and once again, she explodes, stars exploding right before her eyes; she feels her inner muscles contracting against and around him, and yet, he is so brutal now that he knows she has reached her happy ending that he simply can’t stop, he tries to resist the sucking motion (and sweet temptation) of her womb... and he wins, for a while, until, at the fifth thrust after her orgasm, he comes too, he finally follows her emptying himself in her, filling her completely, his seed escaping the confines of her (tiny and young) body, running on her legs, ticking.
He leaves (the welcoming warm of) her body, and falls on the bed at her side-she is lying on her stomach still thrilled, too much adrenaline to even consider the option of sleeping- and he looks at her, tenderly. He ruffles her hair and kisses her- on the forehead, on her nose, on the corner of her lips, on her neck - and then, after hours spent looking at her sleeping form, scared of losing her, that she would be gone in the morning, vanish in the first hours of the morning… he falls asleep, too tired to do anything else, and his sleep is agitated and his nightmares (the ones where he sees her leaving him once and for all) makes him waking up sweaty and cold every couple of hours.
And then… then, he wakes up at eight o’clock or so, and she is cuddled against his side, her tiny hand splashed on his torso, caressing (and arousing) him, and Kate leans over him, and she finally, finally kisses him (and he remembers someone, a long time ago, telling him that a kiss is way more intimate than sex), and they melt into each other as he runs his hands through her dark locks, their lips lazily touching each other.
And the sex (the making love) that follows isn’t even the best part.
The best part- the one that makes sure he falls asleep each and every night, sleeping as soundly as a baby, is that she is there every and each morning.
Just where he knows she’ll (always) will be.