Natasha’s leg jerked slightly when Clint’s hand reached the back of her knee, a little too close to one of those few ticklish areas she tried so hard to keep secret. She instantly let out a long moan to distract him, though with his eyes so fixated on what she was doing it was highly likely he hadn’t even noticed her momentary lapse.
“It’s always your hands,” she replied in that low, sultry tone that she knew drove him wild. “Whenever we’re apart, and I need to take the edge off...” She twisted her nipples between her fingers before catching them between her knuckles like he so often did. “I always imagine your hands, and your mouth.”
It was the complete, honest truth. Most people in relationships will fantasize about others; the man they passed on the street, the checkout girl at the store, that famous celebrity in their underwear. Most people fantasized about what they didn’t have, but that wasn’t how Natasha worked. Physical attractiveness had never been the driving factor for her. Of course she found Clint incredibly attractive, but it was the trust, the love, that made the sex so great. When her and Clint had first crossed that line from partners to lovers it hadn’t been exclusive, but sex with others after him just hadn’t measured up. Even before she had fallen in love with him she had trusted him, and that factored heavily into it. He also knew her better than anyone, knew when to push her and when to back off; knew what subject to broach and what ones to leave for her to introduce. Eventually she had stopped trying with anyone else, something she had confessed to him shortly thereafter over a few drinks. Not one of her finer moments but it had worked out in the end.
Feeling his leg shift beneath her foot she took the invitation, sliding around just enough to nudge his balls with her toes.
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Date: 2014-03-16 08:27 pm (UTC)From:“It’s always your hands,” she replied in that low, sultry tone that she knew drove him wild. “Whenever we’re apart, and I need to take the edge off...” She twisted her nipples between her fingers before catching them between her knuckles like he so often did. “I always imagine your hands, and your mouth.”
It was the complete, honest truth. Most people in relationships will fantasize about others; the man they passed on the street, the checkout girl at the store, that famous celebrity in their underwear. Most people fantasized about what they didn’t have, but that wasn’t how Natasha worked. Physical attractiveness had never been the driving factor for her. Of course she found Clint incredibly attractive, but it was the trust, the love, that made the sex so great. When her and Clint had first crossed that line from partners to lovers it hadn’t been exclusive, but sex with others after him just hadn’t measured up. Even before she had fallen in love with him she had trusted him, and that factored heavily into it. He also knew her better than anyone, knew when to push her and when to back off; knew what subject to broach and what ones to leave for her to introduce. Eventually she had stopped trying with anyone else, something she had confessed to him shortly thereafter over a few drinks. Not one of her finer moments but it had worked out in the end.
Feeling his leg shift beneath her foot she took the invitation, sliding around just enough to nudge his balls with her toes.