When she felt the hot pressure of Clint’s tongue through the thin material of her thong, Natasha didn’t even try to hold back a moan this time. Far too soon he stopped, but she could feel him working the small snap she had sewn in, trying to unclasp it with his mouth. She considered helping him, but even if he didn’t have her hands beneath his on her thighs it was a challenge she knew he would rise to soon enough.

She heard the little snap as it gave way, felt him peel the wet material off of her skin and she shivered slightly as she felt his breath on her. It was about all she had time to do before she was crying out as his tongue entered her with not a second of preamble. She was glad for his strong hands on his, his arms holding her steady, or she would have pitched forward and lost her balance. “Maybe we should... move this to the bed,” she gasped.