There was a tenderness between them that a part of her reveled in while another part still wasn’t entirely sure how to accept, so she was ready when the mood shifted, grinning at the noise he made just for touching her. She obediently let him move her, let him gently push her over onto her back, her eyes never leaving his face and the slight grin never leaving hers; he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it when he took control and moved her how he wished. She was always so in control, so dominant and commanding, that she secretly enjoyed letting him take over so she didn’t have to think, she only had to react. It was freeing.

Crinkling her nose slightly when Clint kissed just the tip of it, Natasha proceeded to just return his grin because she simply couldn’t not right then. Even through the thick fabric of his sweater his hands were magic and she arched her back to press herself into his touch.

“Funny you say that as you’re removing them,” she teased, lifting her head to look down at him, her body giving a slight shiver when he kissed her stomach. She knew what he meant, though, and she agreed completely. There was something very attractive about wearing his clothes while he had his way with her, something possessive but in the best way possible.

“Hang on,” she said before propping her elbows on the sofa and pushing herself back until she could prop her head up on the arm of the couch. “I want to watch you.” Her voice held a deliberate husky quality when she said these words.