The debriefing was taking a ridiculously long time. Natasha was tired, bored, and seriously considering strangling the overzealous, newly promoted mission exec. If he used the words ‘exceeded mission objectives’ one more time, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
She slid a quick glance at Clint and recognized his sleeping-with-his-eyes-open face. With a bit more force, and a lot more glee, than she intended, she kicked him under the table. She suppressed a laugh when he lightly jerked awake and turned to glare at her.
The mission exec droned on and Clint rolled his eyes. He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt and she caught a quick glimpse of the bruise she’d sucked onto his collarbone when they’d fucked the post-mission adrenaline out of their systems the night before. A sharp spike of heat flashed through her at the memory of him hissing at the sting from the hickey before turning her around, pressing her against the wall, and fucking her from behind.
Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face; Clint’s eyes narrowed before he tossed her a wink and a cocky grin. He deliberately rubbed at the covered bruise as he turned his attention back to the front of the conference room. Coulson had obviously reached the limit of his considerable tolerance for bureaucratic bullshit and was bringing the debriefing to a close.
They were out of their seats and through the door as soon as Coulson dismissed the room. The scraping sound of chairs being pushed back cut off as the door closed behind them. They made their way quickly down several corridors before slowing their pace once they were safely out of range of any further mission talk.
Clint checked the hallway, confirmed they were alone, and tugged Natasha into a small alcove, backing her against the wall. He leaned into her, close, but not touching. She could feel his body heat and had to hold herself back from stepping closer to him, from pressing her body against him, from wrapping her arms around him.
This powerful urge to touch him was a new development over the last few months. They’d been partnered for over three years now and friends almost as long. It had taken her some time to admit that what they had was a close friendship, never having had that kind of relationship before. The occasional adrenaline fuck was as physical as they’d gotten, but that was happening with more regularity.
“Come over, stay the night with me,” he said, voice low. She heard the slightest note of pleading in his tone.
She met his gaze and felt another flush of heat spread through her chest and lower. This heat was something different than earlier though. It was warmer and softer than the spike that seeing her mark on his body had caused. She wasn’t sure she liked it and that bothered her.
“Like a slumber party?” she teased, stalling for a moment. “Are you going to do my hair and nails?”
Clint flashed her a smug smirk. “Well, if that’s what you want. I do a mean braided updo and my French manicures are legendary.”
Natasha snorted but half suspected he might be telling the truth. They heard someone coming down the corridor and Clint pressed her further into the shadows of the alcove as they passed by. Natasha couldn’t resist any longer and placed her hands at his waist, sliding them up under his shirt, just to touch his skin.
Clint’s eyes widened and that smug smirk made another appearance before he brushed her hair away from her ear and nuzzled her neck.
“Come over for dinner, a movie, maybe a manicure.” His voice was deep, husky, and a shudder ran through her when he lightly sucked on her earlobe. “And we can do other … stuff.”
“And if I don’t want to do other … stuff?”
He pulled back and studied her for a long, intense moment. “Then just come over for dinner and a movie. It’s the company that’s important, not … stuff.”
She saw a flicker of something in his gaze before he started nuzzling at her neck again and Natasha’s breath caught in her chest, her heart raced.
This was brand new territory.
Sure, they’d had their fair share of casual evenings with dinner and movies. Spending time together outside of SHIELD, whenever they happened to be in the same place, was something she looked forward to, something she enjoyed. The addition of the post-mission fuck hadn’t changed that.
But this felt like a date, like a thing. Like a serious thing.
And, oh god, his mouth felt wonderful on her skin. He nibbled on her earlobe and she bit back a moan.
Did she want a thing? She wasn’t entirely sure. A personal relationship hadn’t ever been something she’d allowed herself to hope for, much less actually contemplate. But in a flash it came to her, a fully formed, beautifully stunning realization – she wanted a thing with Clint.
And right on the heels of that realization came another, even more fantastical thought. She could have a thing with him. Suddenly all the times he’d casually touched her, all the glances she’d noticed him giving her, the dinners he’d prepared, the time they’d spent together … it all crystalized in her mind and made perfect sense.
He wanted a thing with her, too.
It was a heady, exquisite, slightly scary conclusion.
He found a particularly sensitive spot underneath her ear and she couldn’t hold back a whimper as his teeth lightly grazed her skin. Her hands flexed at his sides and she scratched lightly before wrapping her arms fully around him, pulling him in closer to her. He pulled his head back to look her in the eye. There was a touch of surprise in his gaze and more than a hint of what she now recognized as longing. How had she missed that before?
She leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth. He hesitated just a fraction of a second before returning the kiss. Natasha opened her mouth to him and the kiss heated quickly. They both moaned as their tongues slid together. She let the pleasure wash over her for long moments before breaking the kiss.
Clint looked a little dazed and she grinned at him.
“I’ll bring the beer and wine tonight, but don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for that manicure.”
The scent of spanakopita filled the air when she entered Clint’s apartment and Natasha’s stomach rumbled. She’d had a light lunch knowing how good a cook he was and anticipating a great meal. And she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was a little nervous about the evening too.
He was in the tiny kitchen and turned to shoot her a grin when she closed the door behind her.
She took a deep breath, both to settle her nerves and to savor the smell in the air. Her mouth watered; she hadn’t had good spanakopita in ages. Not since they’d taken a few days to blow off some steam in Greece following an especially tricky undercover assignment. It was the first time they’d gotten physical and given into the crackling chemistry between them, the first time she’d let herself admit she wanted him.
They’d only fucked once and she knew it was because she’d kept her distance afterwards. She’d been uncharacteristically unsure of her footing with him and had needed to regroup. Looking back now, she recognized his disappointment, but at the time, he’d backed off and they’d had a relaxing couple of days playing tourists and getting in some excellent diving around Chios Island.
The memories of those few idyllic days came back and the grin on Clint’s face said he knew it too.
“Did you make baklava too?” she teased as she joined him in the kitchen. She set the beer and wine on the counter and peeked into the oven. The spanakopita looked delicious.
“Nope,” he replied. He reached for her and paused, searching for something in her eyes. She let herself be open to him, let him see the willingness in her eyes. She saw the moment he got the message and a smile lit up his face.
Clint finished his aborted gesture and threaded his hand into her hair to cup the back of her head and gently tug her in for a kiss. It started sweet but turned a little dirty when they opened to each other.
Natasha pulled back and punched him lightly on the arm. “You said you didn’t make baklava, but I can taste it on you!”
Clint laughed and made a show of rubbing his arm. “I didn’t make it, I picked some up at that corner bakery you like so much.”
“But,” she said as she ran her hands up and down his arms, “that’s on the other side of town.”
“But,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, “it’s your favorite.”
She pulled him in for another, far dirtier kiss. Clint pressed her up against the counter and things were starting to get really interesting when the timer on the oven buzzed. They both sighed as they broke apart and Clint pressed his forehead to hers.
Natasha grinned. “Saved by the bell?”
“Not exactly what I was thinking.”
“Get the oven,” she said, still smiling, and lightly pushed him away. “I’ll get the drinks. And you better not have eaten all the baklava.”
Dinner was delicious. They’d talked easily, mostly about the time they’d spent in Greece and where they might like to go if they got the chance to do more diving. It was surprisingly relaxing and oddly … domestic, Natasha thought. And absolutely something that had become important to her.
After dessert, Clint insisted they change into pajamas for a more authentic slumber party experience. Natasha hadn’t anticipated actually needing pajamas for the evening, so borrowed a pair of his boxers and a purple t-shirt. He’d changed into flannel pants and a well-worn bullseye t-shirt. All she could think about was running her hands over that t-shirt and feeling soft cotton over the hard muscles underneath.
He surprised her by leading her over to the couch, sitting her down and producing a pretty well-equipped manicure set. She laughed but chose a tasteful pink from the half dozen bottles of nail polish he offered her. And he proved himself a competent manicurist. She was very pleased with the results and the customary hand massage left her hands feeling positively wonderful. She made a mental note to have him treat her to a manicure more often.
She joked about this being a real slumber party and he cracked a smile and told her to wait until he broke out his copy of Mystery Date, then it would be a slumber party.
She was curious to see where Clint would take the evening next and wasn’t entirely surprised when he brought out a brush and a hair tie. The braid he plaited her hair into was beautifully intricate and still loose enough to be comfortable. The feel of his hands running through her hair and massaging her scalp was absolutely amazing.
He rubbed her neck for a few moments and chuckled as she dropped her head forward and groaned with pleasure. “More?”
“Yes, please,” she replied with a sigh that was practically a purr as he dragged his hands down her back. He proceeded to give her the best neck, shoulder and back rub she’d ever had, not that she allowed many people the opportunity to get that close. The strength in his fingers and the way he pressed them into her muscles had her feeling almost boneless and totally relaxed, except for the ache he’d ignited between her thighs.
Natasha was a little confused when, after the massage, he left her on the couch and went into the kitchen, popped popcorn, and whipped up a couple of Irish coffee milkshakes. He came back with the treats, settled back down next to her, and turned on the TV.
She’d been expecting … stuff, not Chopped.
Half an hour later, as the entrees were being judged, he set the near empty popcorn bowl and glasses aside and lay down on the couch with her, her back to his chest. Clint propped himself up on one elbow so he could see the TV, his arm draped loosely across her waist. She gradually relaxed against him as the contestants battled it out with kumquats, peppermint patties, sourdough bread, and maple syrup in the dessert round.
As Ted Allen introduced the competing chefs when the next episode started, Natasha found herself increasingly more distracted by the warm body behind her. She scooted a little closer and Clint briefly tightened his arm around her waist. She glanced back and he appeared to be engrossed in the show, snorting as the basket ingredients were revealed.
Natasha traced her fingers along the pronounced veins in Clint’s hand and arm. He twitched a little, muscles flexing and relaxing as her fingertips grazed his skin. His hands had always fascinated her; they were big and powerful yet unexpectedly nimble. She’d been on the receiving end of both their strength and their gentleness.
And now she imagined him running those strong hands over her body, stripping off her clothes, tracing her curves. She wanted to feel those knobby, nimble fingers on her breasts, between her thighs, pushing up inside her. Liquid heat pooled low in her belly and she squeezed her thighs together, felt herself grow wet with want for him.
She rolled over to face him, Chopped long forgotten.
“I thought we were going to do … stuff,” she said, suddenly feeling a little unsure of herself. But surely she hadn’t misread this whole situation, hadn’t misread him.
Clint raised his hand and ran a finger along her brow, smoothing away the frown lines she knew were there. She felt the weight of the moment in his gaze. “Stuff is up to you, it always has been.”
That simple statement, and the truth of it, very nearly overwhelmed her. She heard herself make a needy little noise and saw the surprise on his face right before she surged forward to kiss him, hot and hard and wet. She desperately pressed herself to him. He felt so good against her, his hardness against her curves, she couldn’t get close enough.
He groaned and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her even closer.
After that first, frantic rush, the kiss slowed to a more sensual, luscious pace. Their tongues slid together as hands roamed freely, caressing one another. They’d never taken the time to explore each other before; hell, they’d only ever been completely naked that first time in Greece.
She ran her hands up under his shirt and he let go of her long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside. She gave him a wicked grin before she licked and nipped at the hickey she’d marked him with the day before. Natasha trailed nips and kisses across his chest and sucked on his nipple before lightly scraping it with her teeth. Clint hissed with pleasure and plucked at the hem of her shirt.
“Off, now,” he rasped. She pulled back and they both fumbled the shirt off to join his somewhere on the floor. Clint cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple; she bit her bottom lip as she pressed herself into his warm hand.
Natasha tugged him into another lush kiss; she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, the press of him against her, the feel of his skin under her hands as she ran them across his back. He wrapped his arms back around her and pulled her close. The crush of her breasts against his chest, skin to skin, was electrifying and they both groaned.
Clint’s hands went roaming and he palmed her ass, squeezing and pulling her up against his erection. God, she wanted him inside her. Wanted to feel him filling her, stretching her, thrusting inside and against her.
She broke the kiss but before she could put that desire into words, he pulled at the waistband of her boxers, paused and met her gaze. She saw the desire in his eyes, saw how much he wanted her, but she could also see lingering traces of doubt too.
“Yes, Clint,” she assured him, voice strained with need. He practically ripped the boxers off her, but his touch was gentle as he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh to the apex of her legs. He cupped her pussy and she pressed down against his hand.
“Fuck, Tasha,” he groaned. “You’re so wet.”
She spread her legs and gasped as he ran his fingers through her slick folds. He circled her clit and swirled his fingers around the mouth of her cunt, quickly finding a rhythm that had her panting.
“Oh, god,” she moaned. “Please, Clint, more.”
Natasha dug her nails into his shoulders and cried out when he plunged two fingers inside her and started pumping. She hitched her knee up over his thigh and tilted her hips closer to him. Sweet, sweet tension built quickly and all too soon she was coming hard, clamping down on his fingers as he worked her through the orgasm.
She buried her face against his neck as she shuddered with aftershocks. Clint suddenly twisted his fingers deeper inside her, pressed hard against her clit with his thumb and she tumbled into another orgasm, shallower than the first but just as amazing.
Her toes curled and she keened with pleasure. The climax went on and on and she finally had to pull his hand away from her as she caught her breath.
As soon as she recovered her senses, Natasha pushed his flannel pants down past his delectable ass and he kicked them the rest of the way off. She ran her hands over the muscles of his ass and lightly scraped her nails over his cheeks; he squirmed against her.
Their mouths met in another deliciously dirty kiss but he pulled away from her as she grasped his cock and stroked him from base to tip and back.
“Watch your manicure,” Clint gasped and then laughed, a little hysterically. “Jesus, did I just say that? Fuck it, don’t stop, I’ll do it over again tomorrow.”
She chuckled at the comment and gave a wicked twist of her wrist that had him thrusting into her hand.
Natasha rolled onto her back and had to grin at the hint of awe in Clint’s eyes when she pulled him on top of her. He sank his fingers into the braid at the back of her neck and gently angled her head so he could mouth at that sweet spot beneath her ear. She shivered.
“Tash,” he moaned into her neck. “Need to be inside you.”
He tugged one of her legs up over his hip and ran a couple of fingers along her pussy before taking his cock in hand and slicking himself up with her wetness. He lined himself up and pressed slowly into her. They both groaned as he filled her.
Natasha sighed his name as he started to move. Long, deep, languid strokes that she felt to her core.
It felt extraordinary, different. Different in the way a lot of things were with Clint, different in a good way, special. She loved having him above her, her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust slowly inside her. She felt surrounded by him and while the intimacy was nothing she’d ever experienced before, it was effortless and easy. There were no masks to hide behind, no games to play, she was just her, it was just the two of them.
Pleasure built gradually, but it was still too soon that she was crying out and hugging him tightly to her as she came. Clint thrust quickly once, twice more, and then stiffened as she felt wet heat fill her up. He nuzzled her neck and she hummed with pleasure as she stroked his back. They relaxed into each other as their hearts calmed and their breathing evened out.
She couldn’t remember ever having more meaningful … stuff.
Natasha stretched as she woke and relaxed back into the bed. God, she felt amazing. She stretched again and sighed at the pleasant ache in her thighs and cunt. The thought crossed her mind that she should get up, get dressed, and go, but it was fleeting. She had no desire to leave.
She rolled onto her side and reached out to run her fingertips down the broad expanse of naked, muscular, male back next to her. Scooting over, she pressed herself up against Clint and wrapped an arm around his waist. She carded her other hand through his hair and pressed kisses against his shoulder.
Clint groaned and caught the hand at his belly and pulled it up to place a kiss on her palm.
“Good morning,” he said, voice sleep roughened.
“Hmm, it is. Very good,” she said.
He fiddled with her hand, occasionally peppering kisses across her palm, as they enjoyed the quiet of the morning.
“Tash,” he started and she heard the teasing in his voice. “Are you spooning me?”
“Absolutely not,” she replied as she hugged him closer. She slipped her leg between his and slid her foot up and down his calf as she nipped at the back of his neck.
Clint turned over and rolled her onto her back underneath him. She moaned as he mouthed at her neck. Heat curled low in her belly and she spread her legs so he could settle closer between her thighs. He pulled away from her neck and met her gaze. All those things that for years she’d missed seeing were clear in his eyes and made her breath catch.
He gently brushed her hair away from her face then kissed her lightly.
“Stay the night,” he whispered huskily.
“Again?” she asked, giving him what she guessed was a sappy smile. He returned it with a sappy smile of his own.
“Yes,” she answered and pulled him into a hot, desperate kiss.