study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

It was barely more than a whisper. Maybe Clint wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't just closed his eyes, to feel, breathe her even more intensively. Or if his hearing implants weren't so well programmed on even the smallest sound.

His hand on Natasha's stomach froze, and he actively had to remind himself to keep breathing, when after a few long seconds he still waited for a chuckle, an addition. Anything he would have expected from her, to flee another time from her feelings.

Nothing.

He blinked, staring at the ceiling for a moment, trying to regain his composure with the years of mental discipline he'd been trained.
All three options of his first reaction - going sure that she had really said that, asking her to run away from everything forever with him or a very bad Han Solo homage - would probably make her leave instantly. He had no intentions of letting her go tonight. Or tomorrow. However long he could make her stay.
It probably wouldn't be long, not with their job. Just one of their many reasons, but the most important one for not phrasing their feelings like that usually. And for Natasha it had been always even more important to keep her distance.

Yet it had just happened, just like that, and maybe it was that what made it perfect. No long discussions, no breakdown after a bloody mission or post orgasm dizziness.
Just like that. Because things were right tonight. Like they should always be.

Again he had to actually remind himself to not strengthen the grip around her waist too much, when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. A pressure had lifted from his chest that he hadn't even known to be there. Of course he had known, somehow, suspected heavily... But it had always been her choice to let him know for sure.
And now that it happened it sounded so naturally, so sure despite her quiet tone, that he had to blame himself for ever doubting even the slightest bit.

He thought about laying like that for another minute, until that thing passed that left his eyes burning and his breath shallow. Maybe he should just say nothing or bring on a silly joke, anything to ease the mood. But if she was being honest with him, he had to return the favor even more so.

Sighing a shaky breath, he lifted his head to rest it back against her neck, let her feel the traitorous wetness trickling from his eyes. His fingertips right over her heart pressed against her skin in feather light circles. This was his and he would take care of it.

"Thank you, Tasha."

The moment that followed her confession seemed to stretch on forever, both of them utterly silent and unmoving. If she didn’t already know that he loved her, if he hadn’t already told her, she might think that she had said the wrong thing and that he didn’t return her feelings. Hadn’t she reacted similar when he had first said it?

Her breaths were slow and as quiet as she could make them, not wanting to miss any possible sound he might make, but still there was nothing.

Should she not have said it? No, she knew that wasn’t it because it had been very clear how badly he had wanted to hear it even as he claimed he didn’t need to. He never pushed her, never admonished her, never reacted badly when she didn’t reciprocate with words, so that left only one option that she could see: he was completely shocked.

Was it really that unexpected? Surely he had to know, she had expressed her love in every way she could beyond words, but what if he hadn’t? What if, all this time, he hadn’t believed it? Her heart ached at the thought.

Seconds seemed to stretch to minutes, felt like hours before she heard him, felt him, take a shaky sigh. Finally he was moving, burying his face against her neck, pressing her fingers over her heart. Even though they were in the bathtub she knew that wasn’t just water on her neck and she instinctively tightened her hold on his hand. His eventual reply was simple and perfect.

Smiling with a lightness she didn’t know she could feel Natasha rested her head against his, her free hand brushing lightly through his hair. Now that she had said it she didn’t know why she had taken so long. It was not something she would say often, they were words that so many people bandied around without thought and she didn’t want them to lose the meaning they were supposed to hold. But she had said it, and she felt completely relieved and content to have done so. He loved her with everything he was and he deserved to know that she felt the same.

He didn't know how long they had just sat there like that, but eventually the music changed from Def Leppard's strong riffs to some old guilty pleasures that he couldn't remember to have put on that data stick. Yes, Natasha really had to love him when not even Johnny Cash and The Righteous Brothers could make her leave.

Clint chuckled quietly at his own thoughts and lowered his head to press his lips against Natasha's shoulder. At least he had his feelings somehow back under control. It had helped, spending endless minutes of silence just holding her against his body, drowning in her sweet scent. No barriers between them and no pressure to force them into a much more intimate touch, just to make them both forget there was so much more.

Clint didn't want that anymore, not when they were alone. Not now that he knew Natasha to be much more confident about all this than he had ever hoped.

So he forced any flickering desire back for now, ignored the wish to explore the softness of her skin in the same intimate way they always had time for later. Instead he reached for a washing clothe on the tub edge, his lips still wandering softly over her shoulder.

Another thing that wasn't new, of course. They both hated sick bays equally and preferred it in injury and sickness to take care of each other. It had happened before that he had helped her get cleaned.

But still this wasn't a mission, still he had to hold back from poking himself to realize this was all their free will. Just a couple cuddling in some warm water, enjoying terrible music and breathing against each other. He wanted her to have a good memory of this.

He playfully ran the tail of the thick rag against her upper arm and nudged her neck with his nose.
"Can I do this for you?"

In truth Natasha payed little attention to the music, more interested in listening to the storm outside instead. It had picked up considerably since they’d made it inside with the wind blowing the rain violently against the side of the house. She had always loved the ferocity of a storm when she was tucked safe and warm inside, and never had she felt that more so than she did right now.

She raised her eyebrows curiously when Clint chuckled, but his lips on her shoulder muted her question and she decided to let it go. Besides, she wasn’t sure how to properly follow up the exchange they had just had. Choosing to let the silence reign until he broke it, she closed her eyes again and sighed softly at the play of his lips over her shoulder, so soft and unhurried. When she felt the tickle up her arm, though, she opened her eyes enough to throw a side glance over, noting the wash cloth. Nodding in answer, she gathered her hair over her opposite shoulder and leaned forward so he could start with her back. This usually only happened when one of them needed the help, but she was looking forward to it being just because they wanted to this time.

He started small, after placing another kiss right on the base of her neck, to thank her, for letting him in so much tonight.

There was no need to speak, though it really could be only a matter of time until Natasha would mention something the music. When the hell had he downloaded Keith Urban-songs, anyway? Still... It somehow fit the mood, very quiet, piano and violins. Just a melancholic hint of longing for more, for the impossible, easy to ignore.
It was good as it was, right now. It was all they needed.

And maybe a little romance before they would screw each other's brains out again. Personally, Clint would enjoy this every single second until Natasha might eventually reach for some handcuffs.

For now he meant to show her how good it could feel to spend like that. The thick fabric against her skin just tight enough to keep it awake, he ran it down her spine, vertebra by vertebra. The fingertips of both his hands caressed out to her shoulders, her chest, her waist, circling gently. Just with the slightest bit of pressure he stopped, when he found a tiny knob or a place that made her suck in her breath with tension.

There were a few. She was worse than him, and he certainly didn't see the masseurs every week. He shortly thought of telling her but waved it off with a quiet sigh and just repeated the motion, paying more attention to the found sensitive spots.

Only when he reached her waist for the third time, he let his hand wander deeper, teasing and nudging the softer, rounder flesh below before he reached around her to place his hand on her belly.

"Lean back, honey... Relax."

It was amazing how something like this could feel more intimate than any sexual act. She had felt those rough and skilled fingers over every inch of her body, but this was more comforting than arousing, simply innocent and caring and something that could be utterly terrifying if she let it, something she was determined not to do, not tonight, not anymore.

They had spent so many years being what they needed to be to get by, to flourish, to excel at their jobs, but wasn’t it about time they started living for themselves? She loved him, she had admitted she loved him, so why keep hiding from it? It had been happening slowly, she let him in more each day, no longer keeping him at arm’s length but never quite fully embracing him either. She wanted to, though; she wanted to let him in completely, to give him her complete and utter trust not just in the field but in every aspect of her life, with everything that made her who she was. She didn’t want to just be with him, but she wanted able to just be with him. She didn’t want to just act normal with him, just another mask of thousands, she wanted to just be normal. Maybe they never could be truly normal, not like other people, but they could make their own normal and that was what she wanted.

She winced or sucked in a sharp breath when he discovered a tight muscle, a knot of tension, but she relaxed every time again as he massaged gently, working her over until she felt pretty much boneless. Somedays she swore he had magic hands. Of course Clint wouldn’t be Clint if he didn’t eventually resort to teasing, and Natasha wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Honey?” she repeated the term of endearment, looking back over her shoulder at him and raising an eyebrow. She smirked a little at him before doing as instructed and leaning back against his chest again.

"Gotta make the best of it while you can't choke me with your thighs", Clint stated, completely serious, giving one of the tools in question a soft slap. "I could actually think of a few even worse terms..."

Just for this smile on her face it was worth it, risking her to poke him in the ribs. One day he might actually use a serious endearment, one a little closer to his heart. For now he was relieved that this strange tension from before had gone. It had been a perfect moment, a revelation he would keep safe in his heart and live on, whenever they would be apart. But he knew just too well how uncomfortable it made Natasha to talk about her feelings. And tonight he wanted her to relax.

He bravely withstood the temptation to suck and bite the sensitive skin of her neck and just rested his face back there instead, breathing soft kisses on her skin. His hand holding the clothe rubbed lazy circles over her taut skin and made its way up her sternum one inch at a time, keeping away from her curves as much as possible to tease her a little more.

He took his sweet time giving her shoulders and arms the same slow treatment and got lost a little doing the same to her hands. He tried to relax the muscles and work her knuckles the same way he had early been taught from his first mentor, to take care of his most dangerous weapons. Natasha had beautiful hands, of course he knew that, he had felt them often enough on his body, but it never failed to amaze him, all that strength and skill hidden under her pale skin.

Only reluctantly, he let go off them to get back to his actual work, moving the clothe to this certain spot he had just missed.

He had thought to have himself perfectly under control, considering Natasha's bare ass pressed against him enticingly, but the day when running his hand over her perfect breasts wouldn't do anything to him, probably was the one he'd be ten feet under.

Stifling a deep sigh against her skin, he softly started exploring her flesh, never putting on too much pressure but very thoroughly making sure she was really clean.

Natasha had to laugh at his reply, a soft and genuine laugh even while she was giving his hand a swat away. “Considering the music you listen to I’m sure you have plenty of horrible terms saved up.” While she had expected the 80s glam rock, the modern country had come as a bit of a surprise though when she thought about it it somehow fit him as well.

She was glad for the joking and the laughter again. She had meant what she said, and she had been touched by Clint’s reaction, but as much as she was enjoying this new intimacy she could only handle so much at one time before it threatened to be too overwhelming. Luckily Clint knew that about her and didn’t let the intense mood linger too long.

Her eyes drifted closed again and she rested her head back against his shoulder as he resumed his work. He worked his way up her torso only to skirt around her breasts and work on her arms instead, paying special attention to her hands. It wasn’t a part of her body that anyone tended to focus on until she was squeezing the life out of them, but the way Clint pressed his thumb into her palm and worked every knuckle felt incredible and she couldn’t help the quiet noise of pleasure that escaped her lips.

Lying as she was against him she thought she could even fall asleep just like this, with his heart beating against her back and his breath warming her neck, but soon enough he finished with her arms and returned to where he had purposefully avoided earlier. She felt him shift against her and she arched her back slightly, the roughness of the cloth over her nipples making her shiver.

"Later."

Clint had a hard time hiding the rough tone in his voice. Somehow he managed it to move his hand away from Natasha's breasts, not without giving her hardened nipple a gentle tug. The way she was pressing back against him didn't help not thinking of all the things he could do to her in here. His breath going slightly deeper and faster, he pressed his lips against her shoulder and nibbled on her skin carefully, not leaving any mark.
Concentrating on that, he made it down her body, to caress the beautiful curve of her hips, without giving in to the urge to dip his fingers between her legs.

"You're just too goddamn hot, Tash'."

Trying to shake the returning need from his mind, he began stroking her thighs slowly with both hands, motioning her to bend her legs so he could reach her better. He made his way down just as slow as before, willing away every unchaste thought. Instead he tickled sensitive spots like the hollow of her knee and made sure to let her feel him touch every corner of her skin, before he started kneading her strong muscles between his fingers.

"You're perfect, you know. To me... you're perfect."

Natasha chuckled, the sound reverberating low and deep in the walls of the tub. An easy smile settling on her lips she relaxed back against him again. He had promised to behave so it was only fair she did the same. Returning her hand to his leg to trace lazy circles on his skin again, she turned her head slightly to the side as his lips travelled over her shoulder but otherwise she remained relatively still, letting him continue the task he seemed to determined to complete.

“Mm, so I’ve heard,” she replied, resisting the urge to show him just how hot she could be. Instead she did as he silently instructed, bending her knees and drawing them up to her chest so he could reach her legs better. Jumping and letting out something akin to a short squeak when he tickled her knee, she threw him what was supposed to be a warning glare, but she couldn’t even fake one properly when she felt this good, this... happy. “Watch it.” It was a secret only Clint knew; who else would believe that the Black Widow actually had a spot or two where she was ticklish?

She was just settling back against him again when he had to say those words, and although she tried not to let it a small amount of tension returned to her body. Perfect, that was what so many thought. They saw her face, her body, her beauty; they heard her sultry whispers, her lies, and they saw perfection. Perfect, it was what she was trained to be, perfect until she drove a syringe into their necks or put a bullet in their brains. Even after that she was still perfect to those who trained her, perfectly efficient, perfectly deadly, and perfectly devoid of emotions. That was how they had trained her to be, but they didn’t know that she had never truly been perfect.

Clint knew her crimes, her past, her ghosts. He knew all he had read about her, as well as all the things she had admitted over the years. He knew the blood on her hands, the shadow on her soul. He knew that she was a perfect shell around a complete mess of scars and crimes and nightmares. Her perfection was a lie. A perfect lie.

“You always did have terrible taste.”

Great, Barton. Clint silently cursed when he felt Natasha's back muscles tighten, remembering just a bit too late how careful he had to be with compliments around her. Although he had tried to form it the right way, some of her demons were just too strong in her soul, and after all these years he still didn't know his way around all of them.

He might as well try to fight them just another time then. He was not willing to let long gone and buried bastards in Natasha's past ruin this beautiful evening for her.

"Look at me, Tasha."
He put the clothe back on the tub edge and rested his fingertips on her chin to turn her head, his arm gently curled around her waist again.

"When I say, you're perfect to me, that's what I mean. You're perfect to me because of all this..." He shortly nodded down her body and let his fingertips wander up and down her side. "...but mostly because of all you are here."
His knuckles softly brushed her forehead.
"There may not be the nicest person in there, but that doesn't matter to me. I'm not the perfect son-in-law for any mother either, you know. I love you with all you are and did, and you make me happy, just the way you are. This is what love is about for me. To be made for each other, not for anyone else."

She wanted to brush it off, to pretend the words hadn’t had any effect on her, but Clint knew her too well for that and there was no way he would let her get away with it. She thought of refusing to look at him, of quickly distracting him which would be easy to do considering the position they were in, but everything had been so good before and she didn’t want to lose that, didn’t want to risk pushing him away now that she’d let him so close.

Reluctantly she let him turn her head to look at him.

Of course she was perfect because of her body, and Natasha felt a stab of disappointment as Clint gave that reason, but he didn’t give her time to dwell on it before he continued, making sure to point out that there was much more to his claim. So much more.

As silly and childish as it sounds, she was sure she felt her heart skip a beat at his words. She had known he loved her, of course she had, but to hear him say it like this, to hear him claim to love her even with all her baggage, and that she made him happy, just seemed to drive the point home. He wasn’t finished, though, and it was his final statement that almost made her curse him because she could actually feel tears stinging her eyes and she hated crying.

Made for each other. It was such an immature notion, stupid and nonsensical and completely beautiful. Nobody was made for anyone, she knew that, but it was a lovely sentiment to think that it could be true, that they could last and they could be together because they were meant to be, they were made to be. There was nobody else for her, nobody else for either of them, and she wanted that to be true.

“You’re perfect to me too,” she admitted, her voice slightly choked. It was the best way she could say that she wanted all that he said, all that he offered. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight but she couldn’t in their current position, so she settled for laying her hand against his cheek and kissing him softly.

Clint was glad that Natasha didn't leave him any time to reply and happily gave in to her kiss. They had been close to serious talk yet again and he wanted her to feel good, not constantly fight tears.

But he couldn't help but smile into their kiss, quickly blinking away another rush of too strong emotion. She couldn't have made him more happy than with this simple answer, coming straight from her heart. It really was all he needed to know she cared for him as much as he cared for her. She had picked the perfect night for such words finally to be said.

He tried to give her a matching answer with his lips, tenderly exploring the beautiful full line of hers, his hand softly cupping her cheek. Every now and then he teased the tender skin with the tip of his tongue or sucked her lower lip softly into his mouth, but it was all nothing but sweet and slow.

The teasing tension from just a few minutes ago gone, he longed for holding her in his arms a little longer, just enjoy this intimate tenderness and be happy she was here. But the water was slowly going from comfortable to lukewarm and he didn't want her to freeze again. Reluctantly he pulled away from her, leaving another short kiss on her chin.

"Give me a minute to shower off? Should be getting clean too before I take you to my bed and don't let you out for the next hours." He grinned.

She could feel his smile against her lips and her heart instantly felt lighter. This was good, it felt... it felt right, and it was about time she stopped running away from true happiness because she didn’t think she deserved it, or was too afraid to let herself feel it only to lose it. It was cowardly and selfish, the former something she had never considered herself, and the latter something she didn’t want to be.

The kiss was slow, tender, and exploratory. Natasha was sure they already had every bit of each other’s mouths memorized but this was different without the rush of adrenaline or pull of desire fueling it. She even thought for a moment that she could be happy with just this for the rest of the night.

Eventually, though, it had to end and she slowly nodded at his words. The water was getting cold, and if they stayed longer it would completely defeat the purpose of the bath in the first place. “I like the sound of that,” she said, stealing another quick kiss before reluctantly pulling out of his arms and moving to get out of the tub. “Though it seems a bit silly to get clean just to get all sweaty again later,” she said this with a wink.

"One can never get enough of a hot shower", Clint claimed, grinning even wider.

Still reluctantly, he pulled out the drain plug and got up to shush Natasha out of the tub, not without giving her ass another quick grab.

The mood had shifted to playful again and he liked it. There was precious little to laugh in their lives.

"Over there." He nodded at a few towels waiting on the washing machine and turned on the shower then, reaching for a bottle of gel.

Moving slow and nearly as thoroughly as he had taken of her, he started soaping his skin, flexing his arm muscles a bit more than necessary, just to give her something to watch.

"Beats a river in winter in Greenland anytime."

Edited 2013-09-08 16:22 (UTC)

Well, she certainly couldn’t argue that. If it turned out that they needed another bath or shower later she definitely wouldn’t be complaining.

Climbing out of the tub, Natasha gave a yelp when Clint grabbed her ass on the way. “Hey!” she protested, turning to point a warning finger at him. “Hands. That is not behaving.” She was already smiling again as she turned away to grab a towel. Drying off quickly, she wrapped the towel around her body, tucking the corner in at the top, before returning to the side of the tub. Lowering the toilet seat she sat down and propped her feet up on the tub’s edge, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“You just have no appreciation for the cold,” she teased, openly watching him as he lathered up his skin. If he was going to put on a show then she might as well enjoy it, and she was hardly bashful by any stretch of the imagination.

Suddenly the room was lit up by a particularly bright flash and the lights inside flickered and dimmed but still held on... for now. “You might want to hurry up a bit,” she said, her eyes drawn to the small window across the room. “Do you have any candles?”

"If you want me to behave, beautiful, you have to stop this."
Clint didn't even try not to stare at her legs and the other parts of her skin the towel revealed in this position, slightly red from the bath, smooth and totally inviting to bury his face there right away.

Before he could follow the thought any further, they were interrupted quite impolitely.
"Great. Just had the damn generator replaced."

Clint pouted a little, silently already going through the expenses to be expected if there would be yet another power problem in the house. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't exactly make you rich.

At least he had indeed made the right arrangements for such occasions, because yeah. Not the first time.

"Wardrobe drawer. If we're lucky, we'll get that petrol lamp going too I brought from Egypt back then. At least you don't have to watch horrible movies with me tonight, huh?"

Sighing, he grabbed for the shower head to wash the foam off his body, without putting up a show this time. A towel wrapped lazily low around his hips, wetness still trailing from his skin, he followed Natasha to the living room and went to the kitchen corner.

"Water? Booze? Orange juice?"

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything,” Natasha replied innocently, and in all honesty she wasn’t doing anything more than sitting there, watching him, yet her faux innocent tone seemed to imply more.

“I suppose we will have to find another way to entertain ourselves tonight,” she continued, getting slowly to her feet. Of course she couldn’t help but reach into the shower and give Clint’s ass a quick tap on the way by; he had been asking for it, after all. “Now that was doing something.”

Giving him a mischievous smile, she disappeared out into the rest of the house to locate the candles, finding a few right where he said they would be. Setting them up on the coffee table, she trailed after him to the kitchen. “Surprise me,” she replied, running one fingertip across his broad shoulders as she passed behind him. “Matches?”

Clint startled slightly feeling her touch along his shoulders, the memory of her nails raking over his skin very vividly present on his mind. Yes, something to drink was a really good idea now. Preferred cold, before the power and the fridge would go out.

"Careful. You're playing with fire enough as it is."

Smiling amusedly, he handed her a half full matchbook and forced himself to turn back to the counter, before he could get lost in the sight of her barely covered breasts.

Drinks. Surprise. Right.
Well, never needed to ask a guy twice for bringing up some good liquor.

The idea wasn't to get drunk so he kept the amount of tequila to pour into his cocktail shaker very small. He made sure to add enough of that special brand of orange juice he had bought in the morning, knowing it was Natasha's favorite. One or two more ingredients to reduce the taste of alcohol next to nothing, done. Save for a few well trained shaking movements with just one hand, while he went back to the living room, bringing two glasses.

"Well, no music, either, unfortunately. Unless you want to hear my stunning Axl Rose-imitation. Then you'll just have to wait for the fourth drink."

Natasha raised her eyebrows and gave him a bemused look for his pun. Shaking her head she took the matchbook and headed back into the living room to light the candles. The instantly gave the room a more homey feel and she found herself hoping that the power did go out so it didn’t have the somewhat false atmosphere of simply turning out the lights themselves.

Leaving the spent match to sit on the edge of one of the candle holders, she straightened back to her feet when Clint rejoined her with cocktail shaker and glasses in hand. “I will keep that in mind, and maybe I should mix the next round,” she said, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. If she did the mixing then he would end up with four drinks in one the way she poured. “I’m going to go raid your closet. This isn’t exactly the warmest thing to lounge around in,” she said against his ear before heading to the bedroom.

"If you're doing our drinks, you won't have much fun with me tonight I'm afraid", Clint stated dryly, a little of disappointment on his face when she left to redress. Well, better for both her warmth and his self-control.

He quickly put some track pants and shirt he had left on the sofa and poured them their drinks then, thankfully holding the glass against his forehead to cool his mind. Having Natasha around for the night was just too damn tempting.

But he still meant to spend some calm, somewhat romantic time with her, so he stretched out on the sofa on his side, moving back against the back rest to leave her enough space and closed his eyes for a moment, a content smile on his lips.

"I better hear you not laughing over there, woman. I swear, it's all undercover stuff."

Stripping off her towel just before she was out of view, Natasha threw it into the washroom on the way by before disappearing into the bedroom. Moving straight to the closet she started pushing aside hangers, pursing her lips at the selection. He had more clothing than any other man she knew, save for probably Tony Stark. Hearing Clint’s words she grinned and dug deeper into the back of the closet.

Less than two minutes later she emerged, leaning against the doorframe. Seeing Clint stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed she half considered leaving him be but quickly passed that thought off. “You mean like these?”

She was wearing a pair of leather pants and a matching jacket. The pants were too big so she had to hold them up with one hand since she hadn’t bothered to find a belt. With her other arm she leaned against the wall, her arms stretched partially over her head which opened the front of the jacket just enough to show off a good portion of her tight stomach and make it very obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything under the jacket. “What job did you ever need this for? Were you infiltrating a biker gang?”

Turning his head at her playful voice, Clint had to try hard not to spill the sip of his drink he had just taken. Once he didn't feel like coughing tequila anymore, he started to laugh, even while his eyes were magically drawn to the unclothed parts of Natasha's body. So much for being good. That was a game two could play.

And thankfully, she had not found the worst clothes so far.

"Actually that's my outfit when I take the old lady in the garage for a ride. I thought about taking you along one day, but if you don't like the clothes..."

He pretended to pout, his eyes still roaming her body extensively.

"I don't see how that's helping you with staying warm, though." He frowned demonstratively, rubbing his chin. "Except you're trying to make me tear your clothes off your body and do the job myself. In that case get that fine ass over here."

Natasha grinned when she won a laugh, and even wider at his story. Somehow she found she wouldn’t be surprised if these were actually his clothes. The jacket, at least, she thought would really suit him, and she could just imagine how good the leather would make that find ass of his look.

“No, not this time,” she said, pushing away from the wall and shaking her head. “I wouldn’t want to risk damaging these ones.” Pulling the jacket aside slightly she stroked the leather thoughtfully with her thumb, giving him just a glimpse of the valley of skin between her breasts. “Maybe you should wear this more often...”

Turning away she walked back to the bedroom and removed the leather clothes, hanging them back up where she had found them. Deciding to abandon her search for the worst clothes in his wardrobe, at least for now, she settled on an oversized hoodie and a pair of drawstring shorts. As fun as it would be to continue to tease him with a fashion show, she would much rather curl up with him on the sofa by the candlelight.

Padding back out, she stopped beside the couch to look down at him. “Better?”

"Well, the offer for that bike ride still stands."

Natasha revealing even more of her beautiful rack also reminded Clint that this special fantasy of his also included eating her out and fucking her hard on that bike saddle, but mentioning that wouldn't exactly help keeping his hands off her.

He watched her go with a grin, shaking his head, enjoying this harmless mood more by the second. Much too seldom he got to see Natasha like that. They definitely needed to make a habit out of this.

"Much better", he noted when she got back, snickering at the way the hoodie all but swam around her body. "Not making me want to eat you alive here and now."

Smiling, he reached out for her to pull her softly into his arms and rested his chin on her shoulder with a deep sigh. "God, I've missed this."

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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