It probably wasn't the most intelligent sound he had ever made during sex but Clint had long lost control over coherent speech, and the brain department was about to check out too.
He surely wouldn't have allowed himself to move, not that fast, that resolutely, and when Natasha did, all he could do was surrender, holding on tightly to the sofa armrest while his whole body was vibrating with pleasure, her tight heat working him, nearly sending him over the edge immediately.
It probably shouldn't surprise him... It was Natasha he was dealing with, master of her body, of every single muscle. Someone in many situations, especially in bed ahead of him when he still tried to hold back. Still she caught him unprepared every time in that beautiful devotion he knew her to show only for him. So much actually, that he had to bury his face in his arm to stifle his loud moans, biting down on his own skin while he tried to stay as still as possible, letting her adjust herself, get used to him. But fuck, it was hard.
He vaguely remembered there was something he was something he had wanted to do with his other hand, caught trembling between her legs. Just lightly he began stroking through her soft folds again, running his knuckles over her engorged clit. God, she was wet, coating his hand, the insides of her thighs, and all he wanted to do was fuck her into even more ecstasy.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-10-27 08:55 pm (UTC)From:It probably wasn't the most intelligent sound he had ever made during sex but Clint had long lost control over coherent speech, and the brain department was about to check out too.
He surely wouldn't have allowed himself to move, not that fast, that resolutely, and when Natasha did, all he could do was surrender, holding on tightly to the sofa armrest while his whole body was vibrating with pleasure, her tight heat working him, nearly sending him over the edge immediately.
It probably shouldn't surprise him... It was Natasha he was dealing with, master of her body, of every single muscle. Someone in many situations, especially in bed ahead of him when he still tried to hold back.
Still she caught him unprepared every time in that beautiful devotion he knew her to show only for him. So much actually, that he had to bury his face in his arm to stifle his loud moans, biting down on his own skin while he tried to stay as still as possible, letting her adjust herself, get used to him. But fuck, it was hard.
He vaguely remembered there was something he was something he had wanted to do with his other hand, caught trembling between her legs. Just lightly he began stroking through her soft folds again, running his knuckles over her engorged clit. God, she was wet, coating his hand, the insides of her thighs, and all he wanted to do was fuck her into even more ecstasy.