study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

“The air is certainly fresher here,” Natasha said with a grin. She was used to the harsh, polluted air or New York City, but it was always nice to get away from it for a while.

Knowing that Clint wasn’t at his best before his first cup of coffee, Natasha fell into comfortable silence while they ate their breakfast. She still felt a little off, but she passed it off as jetlag, refusing to let that ruin their first day. The weekend had been relaxing, able to spend the whole thing together, and they had hit on some emotional breakthroughs that had brought them closer together than ever before, but the Monday deadline had loomed the whole time, and the impending meeting with Fury. Now it was over and they were free to spend their time however they wanted, and it felt good, really good, and while Natasha was still of the mindset of not wanting to waste a minute of it, she hoped that would fade soon enough.

She listened to Clint’s ideas for their first few days and nodded as she placed the last bit of fruit on her tongue. A few weeks o themselves, only needing to venture out once a week for fresh food? It sounded wonderful.

“We can unpack later,” she agreed, finishing her coffee and setting the empty cup on the tray. She hated living out of a suitcase, especially somewhere they were planning on staying and relaxing at, but a few more hours certainly wouldn’t hurt. “After a long shower.” There was no point getting clean now before their walk, but she still felt the grime of travel clinging to her and was looking forward to washing up before they went out for lunch anywhere.

"Shower or bath", Clint answered with a little grin, remembering that Natasha had not been in the bathroom yet. There was just one little luxury that he had allowed himself to install in here, or rather had had installed, in exchange for a little help with bad guys, by a plumber in town. It wasn't exactly a Stark-sized luxury whirlpool, but it did well enough.

He got busy with bringing the dishes back to the kitchen before Natasha could ask and angled for a shirt and a pair of cargo shorts from his suitcase. Out of habit he was already searching for a basecap and glasses to go with it when he remembered they weren't undercover and didn't need to shield their faces the whole time. He stopped for a moment, the items in questions in his hand, still leaning over the suitcase and shook his head with a short smile. It began to show that he didn't really have much of an idea how it was like to be on holiday, alright.

There were worse things to get used to.

He left the things on the drawer for later, when it would be hotter and brighter outside, just to find himself reaching for his phone next to put it in a pocket of his pants. Rolling his eyes, he dropped it on the basecap and turned to Natasha with a little shrug.

"I'm definitely out of practice."

When Clint returned the dishes to the kitchen, Natasha finally extracted herself from the bed. Kneeling on the floor, she unzipped her luggage and sorted through the carefully folded items before coming out with a pair of khaki shorts and a sleeveless, button-up blouse. Pulling a sports bra down over her head, she looked up at Clint in all his confusion as he debated over hats, sunglasses and phones.

“I can see that,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “But don’t worry, you will pick up the habit soon enough.”

Pulling a few sundresses from her bag, she moved to the washroom to hang them up and hopefully steam the wrinkles out of later. “Or a bath,” she called out in reference to his earlier statement, now that she saw the room. The house was fairly modest, but somehow the tub didn’t seem out of place. Everything about the place was near perfect.

"Yeah, yeah, and before we know, I'll end up a fat old fart, sitting on the sofa watching sitcoms all day."

Laughing quietly to himself, Clint waited for Natasha in the doorway, giving her all the time she needed to get ready. He made use of it for a quick observation of what was really more the pure excuse of heat-damaged grass than a garden. And, on top of it, scarred from the typical city wildlife that had also left its mark on the hedge.

He decided, the whole thing was probably not worth any effort. But then again, who knew what the next weeks would bring. Maybe he would actually finally bring himself to install that fence. Would at last keep the furballs out.

He found he had been wrong when Natasha and him left: One person in 'his' street was already awake at this Italian-atypical time, busy with making her rounds through the neighborhood to take care of the very same stray kittens Clint wasn't overly fond of. Angelina had a soft spot for them that he could live with as long as she didn't let them inside his building. Also, the meeting gave him a chance to thank her for all her efforts.

Fortunately that reserved ageless woman whom he had never seen with any person but her clients, had a memory like an elephant. Knowing he wasn't the communicative type in the morning, so she just nodded and smiled when he greeted her in her own language and tipped his non-existant baseball cap. Then she turned back to tend to an especially hungry and dirty looking kitten with an injured leg. Not without throwing Natasha a very curious glance though, and for a moment Clint thought to see her smile grow.

Other than that they had the pine-tree seamed alley for themselves. After climbing two of the narrow stairways connecting the several rings of the city, they reached one of its highest points. Maybe a little faster than necessary Clint neared the waist-high well protecting the viewing platform, impatient to see, and he wasn't disappointed. The same thoughtful, admiring smile as everytime was on his lips when he sat down on the broad stone railing with his knees pulled close to his body.

When you had just left the madness and dangers of a the changed world in New York behind, it was incredibly soothing looking down on the same deep green and blue ocean that he had fallen in love with so many years ago. The same bright beaches and solid black rocks that would be crowded with visitors and residents sunbathing later. He even spotted the colors of two or three fisher boats he definitely thought to remember.

He decided to blame it on the light autumn breeze that carried salt and the screams of seagulls up to their little refuge up here, that his eyes had started burning a little.

The walk was pleasant, and while Natasha appeared perfectly casual, her observant eyes were taking in everything around them. It wasn’t as if she had never been to Italy before, but this was different. This was a part of Clint, something that was clearly very important to him, and he had chosen to share it with her. He wanted her to be a part of this life, this secret paradise he kept to himself for so long, and she couldn’t have expressed how much that meant to her even if she tried.

She smiled at the woman with the kittens, and paused just long enough to scratch one behind the ear before falling into step once again beside Clint. They met no one else, and she almost fell behind a moment when he picked up his pace, but soon it was made very clear that this wasn’t just a walk, that he had a destination in mind.

Taking a seat beside him, Natasha looked around them, trying to memorize every detail. When she turned her gaze to Clint she noted how shiny his eyes looked and leaned over just enough to rest her shoulder agains his while she looked out at the water once more. She didn’t mention it, didn’t say anything, just let him soak up the sights and smells that seemed to have such an affect on him.

Maybe that was how it felt to have a home.

Somewhere in the course of the last minutes Clint's arm had crept around Natasha's waist, he found, when he shook off his melancholy. The streets below were slowly filling with the first habitants running their errands and a few joggers down by the beaches. They should be getting on their way back if he didn't want Natasha to catch a sunburn on the first day already.

Some things there always had to be time for, though, like leaning to her to rest his lips tenderly against her temple. She hadn't said anything and he didn't need to either. He just wanted her to know.

"That shower sounds pretty nice now", he just murmured into her ear, maybe a little rougher and deeper than absolutely necessary, and brought himself to leave his little nest then and head back to the stairs.

The sidewalks around the viewing terrace were filling with tourist market stands by now and curious eyes followed their steps. A few men tried to sell them music cassettes, china made jewelry, supposedly original volcano rocks and fake tattoos. Clint was so used to ignoring them that he hardly looked up.

But he couldn't help but grin when an especially persistent gigolo proposed several times to draw Natasha's picture, praising her classy, elegant features, finding all kind of creative comparisons for her hair color. By the time they left the stand behind, he was close to giving her his service for free.

"You make quite an impact, red."

It was one thing to see the town silent and empty, but Natasha thought it much more beautiful on the way back as it truly came alive. Perhaps she could have done without the panhandling, but it was still interesting to her, and also something else how closely they were watched while knowing that it was only out of pure curiosity, not because of any nefarious purposes. Maybe they would be the talk of the town, but they were safe here.

Once they had gotten past the rather persistent artist, Natasha turned her beaming smile at Clint. “Maybe I should have dyed my hair before we left. Blonde, maybe brunette...”

It would hardly have mattered in this case. Even if she wasn’t so striking to look at, she was still the first foreigner through the streets at that time so it wasn’t that she was a prime target so much as the only target. “How often have you come here?” she asked.

"I prefer this color, though", Clint answered immediately though, well, that wasn't much of a secret.

Answering her question was surprisingly harder than expected. A thoughtful frown spread on his face as they made their way back down the stairs.

"This city? Basically it's been my base when Nick made me play The Godfather part 1 to 25 a few years ago. Didn't leave middle Europe for nearly a year. After a while you get to know your way around, I guess."

But that hadn't been the only time, had it? He had told Natasha that he hadn't been on Holiday since he had started working for Fury and that was true. Except for these short spans you spent in safe houses that couldn't really be called being off duty...

More than 10 years of one mission after another. Roaming the seas for some time, waiting for orders to sink several highly dangerous pirate boats, hadn't been any different. Always on alert, always ready to strike. But that had been the year when he had parked a certain little courageous boat quite often down there in the harbor of Naxos. Everytime when he had had a bad case of sea sickness and claustrophobia and had needed a few days at shore.

The exact memory of these occasions was pretty blurry though. Probably too much booze involved.

"Probably our catlady could tell you more precisely", he added after a few seconds, with something that wouldn't quite pass as a smile anymore. "There's been times in this job... I'm not even sure I want to remember too much. When it all blurs down to bodies and the scars you bring home... Sometimes I felt like the protagonist in someone else's nightmare."

Still a shaky laugh but better than nothing.

"It's days like these when I was really glad I could just go somewhere and close the door behind me."

And just like that a shadow passed over Clint’s mood, and Natasha immediately regretted her question. She had imagined him stopping here between missions, figured he must have come back a few times for the people to know him, but she hadn’t anticipated that even his safe haven could hold some bad memories.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Catching his hand, she stopped them and turned him to face her. “We won’t think about it any longer, and we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to while we’re here, okay?” Squeezing his hand, she offered a soothing smile.

“This is our time, and we can do whatever you want. We won’t discuss work, it will be a true escape.” Raising her other hand to his face, she ran her fingertips lightly along his jaw. “If you want to talk, though, I am here to listen.”

She didn’t want him to think that she didn’t want to talk about the heavy stuff, that she didn’t want him to open up to her. On the contrary, she hoped that this trip would go a long way to healing him, and part of that would probably involve discussing his pain and his fears. She didn’t want to push him, however, at least not at first. “Anything you want, I’m here.”

"I'll remember that."

For the moment Clint really didn't feel much like going into this further. But he wanted to let Natasha know, it was okay, that she had done nothing wrong. He could have waved the question off, after all.

So he leaned down for another of these soft, swift kisses, this time on her forehead, and held her close in his arms for a moment before they continued their way. By now the sun was gaining considerably strength, and being outside without any protection only lead to headaches. That wasn't what they needed on their first day.

At his front door they had a not so pleasant surprise waiting. Obviously that kitten, Natasha had cuddled before, was a clever little bastard. It had known exactly where to find them. At least now he could grin again.

"That fleabag will be following you on your heel if you encourage it. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Something Natasha had always been grateful for with their relationship was how well they could communicate without words at all. Some things needed to be said, but times like this words were not necessary. She knew he wouldn’t have said as much as he had if he hadn’t wanted to, and he knew she wasn’t upset that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They said as much as needed to be said.

Picking up the pace a little until they finally got back to Clint’s little house, Natasha chuckled when they found they had company waiting.

“I did nothing of the sort,” she said, scooping the kitten up in one hand. “I suppose you are more of a dog person?” Holding the kitten up in front Clint’s face a moment as if to challenge him to deny how adorable it was, she took a few steps away from the door and set it down again.

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Something Natasha had always been grateful for with their relationship was how well they could communicate without words at all. Some things needed to be said, but times like this words were not necessary. She knew he wouldn’t have said as much as he had if he hadn’t wanted to, and he knew she wasn’t upset that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They said as much as needed to be said.

Picking up the pace a little until they finally got back to Clint’s little house, Natasha chuckled when they found they had company waiting.

“I did nothing of the sort,” she said, scooping the kitten up in one hand. “I suppose you are more of a dog person?” Holding the kitten up in front Clint’s face a moment as if to challenge him to deny how adorable it was, she took a few steps away from the door and set it down again. <Run along, little one,> she said in perfect Italian before straightening up and rejoining Clint at the door.

Clint raised an eyebrow in surprise at the little demonstration of Natasha's language skills. Of course he knew that she spoke all kinds of languages, but sometimes she still surprised him with how well and fast she picked up on them.

"Love your accent", he chuckled, watching the little visitor vanish through a hole in the hedge.

He very much doubted they had seen it for the last time. Not the way it had just looked at him on Natasha's arm, with that smug, nearly triumphing little purr. Little bastard knew exactly it had found someone with a soft spot.

"I don't mind cats", he claimed stiffly, though when they entered, not wanting to spoil the game. "I just wish they got the population in southern countries under control."

Because, really, you wanted to search for the next shotgun when these fleabags started to have midnight conversations or orgies right in front of your house. But he kept that little detail to himself and busied himself with a new water bottle from the fridge instead.

"So... about that bath..."

He leaned against the kitchen counter with one eyebrow raised and didn't even try to hide his very curious glance down Natasha's body. Really, he maybe needed to go sure he didn't have concurrence in the shape of a meowing devil.

“You love all my accents,” Natasha teased, watching the cat vanish before stepping past Clint and into the house. She wasn’t a pet person; not because she didn’t like animals, but because they had been used as part of her training in the past and those lessons weren’t easily forgotten. Besides, she didn’t need anything depending solely on her for it’s life; some days it was struggle enough to keep herself alive.

That didn’t mean she sometimes didn’t consider it, though.

“As much as people like to domesticate them, they are still animals, and not so easily controlled,” she said, sticking her bottom lip out slightly at him to playfully mock the whole grumpy facade he was putting on.

Of course it didn’t take long for Clint’s mind to wander and Natasha rolled her eyes as she snatched the bottle from his hand and took a drink. “You’re little more than an animal yourself,” she said, grinning at him. Taking one last sip before handing the water back, she made sure to dribble a little on her chin and tilted her head back so that a few droplets ran down her neck to disappear beneath her shirt. “A bath does sound good, though...”

Keeping her eyes on his face, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, starting at the bottom, button by painstaking button. When she reached the last one, though, she abruptly turned her back on him before slipping off the shirt and tossing it over her shoulder at him and heading toward the bathroom.

"Sure. Snatch a few more cells from my brain and I'll start chasing my own tail."

Clint pretended to be sulking, to not trace the line of these wicked little drops falling onto her skin with his eyes, but couldn't keep his frown for long when Natasha started to undress.

"And you're a goddamn tease", he called after her, her shirt perfectly caught in his right hand- at least his reflexes obviously worked, even when he went a little caveman on her.

And well, just because they were obviously out to poke each other right now, he didn't resist burying his face in the soft fabric, a very pleasured smile on his lips that he didn't need to fake. God, he loved her smell.

By the time he had his boiling blood under control again, Natasha had already figured out the few functions of that huge ceramic tub that inherited the whole corner by the window, enough for two people to easily sit there side by side... or of course a little closer if desired. He had already gotten rid of his shirt and watched Natasha with heated eyes, waiting for her to continue her little game. There was still a certain challenge from yesterday on the airport on his mind and he wouldn't put it past her aiming for revenge now.

Natasha’s laugh rang through the house at his accusation, but she didn’t stop to reply. Making a beeline for the tub, she already had the water mixed and running by the time Clint joined her in the bathroom. Turning to face him, she let her eyes move over him appreciatively when she found he had already lost his shirt. It was a sight she was sure to have lots of time to grow even more accustomed to over the following weeks.

“Think you worked up enough of a sweat to deserve this?” she asked, moving to stand directly in front of him. Ducking her head, she ran the flat of her tongue across his chest, tasting the slight salt on his skin. “I’m not so sure...”

Leaning back to meet his eyes again, she grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled him a half step closer before undoing the button and zipper and pushing the shorts over his hips to pool at his feet on the floor.

"Not sure...", Clint gasped at the sudden attack of her mouth. Well, if that was how she wanted to play it, he would gladly go along.

Ignoring the small but undeniable interest going on under his clothes, he willingly stepped out of them at her motion and returned the favor gladly then. Only he went down onto his knees in a fluid motion after his hands had sneaked their way onto her hips and under her shorts. He slid them down easily along with her underwear and kept his hands softly caressing on her calves then, looking up at her from lust darkened eyes, taking in the sight of her nearly nude, beautiful form.

"I do have time for a little workout until the water is ready, though..."

He nuzzled his stubble covered cheek against her thigh and placed slow, open mouthed kisses on her skin while his hands made their way up her legs, cradling her thighs, the pale round curve of her ass.

"Think I can earn my ticket into that tub with you?"

She had planned to get him worked up, to touch him as she wanted to but not let him touch her, but when his hands moved to her hips and and he pushed down her shorts, when he nuzzled against her leg and softly kissed her skin, any idea of pushing him away flew right out the window. It felt too good having him touch her like that, having him on his knees before her, practically worshiping her body and the very ground she stood on. She could always tease him later.

“Hmm,” she muttered, running her hands back through his hair. “I think you have a decent shot at it, but you better make it good. There’s not a lot of time.”

The tub was oversized and would take much longer to fill than a normal one, but Clint enjoyed taking his time and drawing her pleasure out, so he would definitely have to change his game to beat the clock.

With a quiet, satisfied sigh, Clint leaned into her touch, pressed against her hand to let her know she was welcome to both hold on to him and handle him just like she needed it.

"Trust me, beautiful..."

He ran one hand back down to her knee and nudged it gently over his shoulder, so the nude inviting softness between her legs was presented right in front of his hungry eyes.

"I don't need hours to make you come really... good."

He neared her skin with every huskily whispered word more until he could see his breath leave goose bumps on it and her beloved scent hit his senses, intoxicating, promising and positively addicting. Helping her keep her balance with his hands firmly holding her hips, he let his tongue dart forward, lapping on her sensitive exposed lips in long strokes, parting them for his greedy administrations. Her sweet, well known taste lingered in his mouth when he sucked her flesh into his mouth. Nibbling, teasing for just a few seconds before he pressed his face closer to his destination and pushed his tongue deeply inside her body.

His pleasured moan rang against her skin as he started to thrust into her, fast and deep with every more, the way he would have done it with his fingers to drive her absolutely crazy in record time.

“Always,” she muttered, the word barely audible. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing, she trusted him entirely with everything she had and everything she was.

Shifting one hand down to grip his shoulder, she draped her knee over his other one, her fingers tightening in his hair as she steadied herself. Of course Clint was there to help her, his strong hands holding her firmly. She could feel his breath on her most sensitive skin, and could already feel herself softening and growing wet, but thankfully he didn’t keep her waiting, and that first abrupt lick had her shivering and sucking in a breath. She really should have sat down for this, but she knew he wouldn’t let her fall, the idea of which made her even hotter.

“Oh god...” she moaned when he started thrusting into her, his face buried hard against her so she could feel his own moaning reverberating through her. “I love it when you fuck me with your tongue,” she breathed, fingernails digging into his shoulder slightly. “You’re so good with your mouth.”

Answering would have demanded taking his mouth off her, so Clint skipped it, but he made it his job to look up at Natasha directly. Especially when he moved his mouth a little upwards to lap at her clit next. His cheeks and chin were faintly glistening from her growing lust, her wonderful taste strong in his mouth, and he didn't really like the idea that this wasn't going to take long. But- priorities. Enough time to induldge in his addiction in the next weeks. For now he had kind of a deadline to fulfill...

It was a challenge he gladly took, completely focusing on finding Natasha's most sensitive spot with his busy tongue. His initial enthusiastic attack had left that one sweet nub slightly engorged to his kisses and licking, and before long, he drew it gently between his lips and started working it over with the tip of his tongue.

With his eyes still locked on her face he watched every of her reactions, her skin flushing with lust, her fast, hectic breathing. Without surprise felt himself growing more than just a little interested just from that. She was so fucking gorgeous, he would never get tired of looking at her. He shifted a little in his kneeling position when his hips started to move involuntarily, the quickly growing heat left his cock laying heavily against his thigh, but made no move to touch himself. Later.

He did take one hand off her hip, though, still supporting her weight with the other and the shoulder she rested on, to run it up her chest, over the thin bra she was still wearing that by now revealed more than it was hiding. Sure fingertips finding one of her nipples, he kneaded it into hardness while he kept on sucking on her most sensitive point, deep moans and sighs rumbling in his throat.

Whenever he did this before Clint always took his time, using both his mouth and his fingers to bring her slowly off, but Natasha was unsurprised to find that he could bring her to the brink quickly if he so desired. He was relentless, all tongue and lips and moans that vibrated against her, and she leaned more heavily against him as her leg began to tremble.

When he moved one hand she clung desperately to his hair, his shoulder, and by the time his hand found her breast she was already getting close. His name escaped her lips in a whimper and she pushed herself harder against him, her hand tightening in his hair. She had thought this would be a challenge for him on such a short time limit, but apparently she drastically underestimated his talent.

When she pressed herself tighter against him, Clint gave a satisfied, aroused grunt, catching the signal easily, and allowed himself to work her breast harder between his fingers. With her nipple expertly twisted and massaged between strong knuckles, he went back to lapping at her damp folds, play with the sensitive bundle of flesh and nerves on top with increasing pressure of his flat tongue.

For another sweet moment of intense sensation he dipped inside her body again, wound her up a little more with quickly swirling his tongue inside of her. Then he was right back at sucking her clit back between his lips, rubs and nibbles coming much quicker and harder now, in time with his fingertips working her just a tad too hard to challenge her.

All the while he hummed and moaned happily against her body, encouraged by her sounds of pleasure and the tight, nearly painful way she clutched down on his hair. His hand holding her tightened its grip when he felt her tremble, urging her to let herself fall, assuring her that he had her. Now and always.

Not only was he working her faster, but harder and rougher as well. It was a different sensation than usual, but not at all unpleasant. Not at all.

He held her tightly but she was afraid to let go so she dug her fingers harder into his shoulder and tried to find her voice, tried to let him know that she was close, but all that she could utter was another loud moan. There was nothing to lean her back against, nothing to fully support her weight but him; if her leg gave out she would fall.

He wouldn’t let her fall.

She knew it in that moment as strongly as she knew that he loved her. He would hold her up, he would support her, just as he always did, just as she did for him when he needed it. He would never hurt her, and he would do everything in his power to keep anything else from hurting her. If she fell he would catch her.

She let herself go.

The moment he could feel her fall apart against him, Clint put both his hand tightly around her hip again, held her safe and steady as her trembling started and concentrated even more on stimulating that one magical spot with his relentlessly working tongue. He kept his mouth as close against her as possible, licked and sucked her through the wave of her pleasure with her clit gently held between his teeth, and let his own moans of pleasure sound through the dampening air of the bathroom along with hers.

Still caught up in his own pleasure, he was very thorough licking the traces of her lust from her skin when she started to calm down, while his hands started to wander again, caressing her thighs, her back. After another soft, long kiss onto her stomach, he pressed his face gently against her hip, trying to get his own heavy breathing under control. Not too easy with her taste still in his mouth and the remains of her lust on his skin that he couldn't resist licking off.

He should be getting up probably and make sure that tub wasn't getting too full while Natasha was still caught up in the aftermath... But it kind of felt nice just being by her side like that for a few moments, with her perfectly shaped legs under his caressing hands and her smell still so close, making it hard to ignore his own arousal.

Even as she shook and bucked against him he still held her firm and carried her through, extending her pleasure at the greatest heights. It was intense, and by the time she started to come down she felt weakened and spent. Realizing she had dug her nails into his shoulder she loosened her grip once she had both feet under her again, her other hand stroking softly through his hair to make up for how hard she had been pulling it only moments ago.

“We should probably check the water,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse, but she too made no move to do that just yet. Her hands moved to rest between his shoulder blades in a loose embrace as he pressed his face against her and just stayed there, holding her gently yet close as the last shivers travelled through her body. “I do believe you’ve earned it.”

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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