bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

CUDDLE MEME

what to do:
☆ post a comment with your character's name and fandom or preferences, if you have them.
★ use the magic RNG 1-12 to pick the cuddly scenario. or not.
☆ then cuddle it out!

cuddle choices:
① Sweet dreams It's been a long day and all you want to do is sleep or just rest your eyes for a bit. Hopefully whoever is close by doesn't mind if you use them as a blanket.
② Stormy weather The heavy rain, thunder and lightning won't be letting up anytime soon. Luckily, it's the perfect weather to stay indoors and snuggle up close and keep warm.
③ Lazy dancer It's the end of a party, or maybe it's only the two of you, but the tempo is slow and the lights are low. Let your dance partner take the weight and just sway.
④ Surprise attack Time to invade someone's personal space. Are they working too much and need a distraction? Maybe you just wanted to brighten their day. Either way, they won't see it coming.
⑤ Movie night It can be on the sofa or in a darkened theater, but you've got your popcorn and someone to settle against during your favorite movie.
⑥ I love you, man It's totally platonic, really. You're just very good friends, no matter what people like to think. But you just love your friend so much you want to hug them, whether they like it or not.
⑦ Jeepers creepers Welp. You were just frightened. Was it a spider in the washroom, a ghost in the attic, a bad dream? Either way, you're looking for someone to cling to right now, and who better than that person right there?
⑧ Hurt and comfort Whether you're sick in bed, just been dumped or suffered a traumatic event, you need someone to wrap their arms around you and make everything go away.
⑨ Sunday morning Maybe you just had a wild night. Maybe there’s just not enough space at your place and you need to share your bed. Or maybe you just got really tired and someone else happened to be there. Doesn't matter because now the person with you looks way more comfortable than any blanket or pillow. Drape to your heart’s content.
⑩ Moment after You just had incredible, vigorous sex (playing out is totally optional) and if you weren't a cuddler before, you are now. You're probably too exhausted to do anything else anyway. Just enjoy the moment.
⑪ Ménage à trois Or four, or five. Get a group and cuddle away.
⑫ Player's choice Pick one or make up your own!

coding taken from

erotiquely

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

It wasn’t that Natasha didn’t have a sense of humour but Clint often suspected that she didn’t get his. That or she just really enjoyed being the ‘straight man’ of their comedy duo. “Fine, fine. It’s more fun all forbidden anyway.”

Sometimes he really disliked that no-nonsense quality of hers, though. This was supposed to be their week off to just spend together and she had to go reminding him of the reality of their situation. What would happen if Fury did find out? Clint doubted either of them would get fired, but could it really mean they would be separated? It was a possibility, and one he really didn’t want to think about so he pushed it from his mind.

“Well, we should get a good chunk of your marathon watched if we don’t have to sleep. Unless we find other ways to tire ourselves out,” he had replied with a playful leer. The combination of the two just seemed inappropriate, though he didn’t mention it.

Clint had closed the door behind him as he vanished into the washroom, probably a good thing because it blocked her from throwing any objects at him. By the time Natasha walked in he had washed his hands and had for the lack of a toothbrush he was swishing mouthwash around. When she jabbed him he spit it out, coughing a few times.

“Maybe I should, it sounds like some sort of addiction. Now that I’ve had a taste I can’t stop,” he said, glad to see she was smiling again. Turning around so he leaned back against the sink, he held her gaze until the shirt obscured it after which he took no shame in letting his eyes travel. It was quite clear as he caught her shirt that she was doing this for his benefit.

“A date, huh? Should I be jealous?” he said, dropping her shirt to the floor. “Now, about that plan... how about you remind me how it goes again?” Of course he remembered it, he just wanted to hear her say it again.

She got his humor, rarely found it amusing during situations that didn't deem it necessary for her to burst out laughing. In the middle of a fire fight wasn't the best time to start talking about the size of their enemies equipment. That being said the majority of the time Natasha did enjoy playing the 'straight laced' one of the pair, she wasn't one for rolling about laughing at every little joke or amusing observation.

For his benefit, probably. More than probably, in fact it would have been right on the money. She balanced a hand on her hip, tilting her head with a smile playing over her lips. "Depends, I'd ask if you were the jealous type but I already know the answer to that." Natasha watched the shirt drop, raised eyes back to his patiently, simply watching with a never-ending curiosity that never seemed to go away. Hey, she just liked working people out.

"Oh the plan? It might have to change a little bit, considering the sixteen hours of lost time. Five and a half days, five if we take into consideration the fact we need to eat." She stepped backwards, effectively stepping into the tub, eyes still carefully watching him before she motioned with her hand. "We'll have even less time if you waste it, by the way" Of course that smile remained on her face, even as she ducked head under the spray and lent hands against the tiles to let the hot water soak over her shoulder blades, rolling them to release the tension.

Hell, even if he didn't pick up on the hint her shower had certainly aided her in many situations before and would probably continue to do so for the near future so it was no loss either way. Although it kind of was considering she was already missing his warmth, hell even the way he carefully watched her. He was too far under her skin by now and she hated to admit it even to herself.

He wanted to protest that he wasn’t the jealous type but he had kidn of proved he was by getting all bent out of shape over Steve. Clint wasn’t the angry type nor the possessive type at least, he was more quietly jealous, or always had been before because he had to be. He hated the missions that required she flirt, or more, with the mark while he just had to wait around and watch, but he’d always had to bite it back because she wasn’t his to be jealous of. Was she now? Was she his? Would this ultimately effect their work? He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let his feelings get out of hand because then it would definitely lead to them being separated and that was the last thing he wanted. Above all else they were partners.

Clint didn’t like the sound of it when Natasha laid the schedule out like that. Five days didn’t sound like nearly enough time; a week had sounded much better until they had slept away a day of it. Still the goal wasn’t to regret time wasted but make the most of what time they had left.

The was she was watching him she could probably see some of the worry in his eyes as his mind ran rampant, but the mention of wasting time finally broke him out of his revery. He watched her duck into the shower, his eyes fixed on how her muscles moved, her skin stretching over bone. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said, shucking his own clothing and stepping in behind her a moment later. Strong hands moved directly to her shoulders, gently but firmly massaging the tight muscles.

They couldn't let whatever this was effect any part of their work. For one Natasha wouldn't have coped being partnered with anybody else. Considering she ultimately felt indebted to Clint, and the fact they worked so well together and actually got along. Nobody else got her humor. Nobody else understood her quirks, they didn't get the hint when she needed space or silence.

She lent back into his hands, shoulders only stiffening slightly and of course she mentally cursed herself for it. Old habits died hard. She dropped her head down, letting the water soak her hair, letting it fall around her like a soggy curtain while she concentrated on the feeling of those knots being worked out. Let it be said that Clint's hands happened to be good at almost anything. It was more how rough they felt from their use, and the way she could identify every ridge on his skin.

Safe to say it felt good and Natasha could never complain considering he was more than happy to put his hands to good use. "If you ever leave Shield consider opening a message parlor. I would literally live there, happily.."
considering all that was keeping her upright was her hands pressed against the tiles then yeah, she could safely say if he went into personal messages he'd make a killing.

Clint ignored how her body stiffened at the touch, just continued to massage her shoulders until she relaxed again. He felt the muscles soften under his hands and moved on to the back of her neck.

“Would you be paying me for my services?” he asked with a low chuckle. “‘cause if you take up all my time I won’t get much business.”

Sliding his hands higher yet he stopped at the base of her skull, one hand lingering there while the other grabbed for the shampoo.

“Turn around and tilt your head back,” Clint instructed, stepping back as far as he could to the other end of the tub so Natasha could get out of the line of the spray.

Natasha was certainly relaxing and damn she hated it. Everything about this was wrong. She wasn't made or built to be pushed over by rough fingers and placid eyes. She was supposed to be a tool of war, the traitor, the spy. Forcefully reminding herself by closing fists against the tiles that she wasn't that person anymore, that she'd changed teams. That she was Natasha.

"Probably. Didn't think of it that way. Guess I need to find something to spend my money on." She smiled, eyes had long slipped shut under her hair, sighing contently as his skillful hands.

She managed to open eyes (although that in itself was a chore) feeling pretty boneless already, and proceeded to follow his command, turning she eyed the shampoo bottle and half smiled. The last time they did this Natasha had been riddled with bullet wounds and had become frustrated three days into her shower ban, the end result had been her covered in a soggy towel with Clint trying to wash her hair, and hell it had been longer then.

Natasha raked fingers through her wet hair until it was all out of her face and she watched him with a languid curiosity, of course she couldn't help the fact eyes had ended up rolling down to where beads of water dripped down his arms and his chest, eyebrow perking in an approving manner. "Think you enjoy this more than me, although I'm certainly not about to complain."

With his free hand Clint helped her brush her hair back, more just for the excuse to touch her than anything. “As long as I don’t enjoy it too much, or we’ll never make it out for food,” he teased, brushing his hand back through her hair once more. Letting his hand rest on her cheek, he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her once, briefly and softly. Lingering only a moment, he pulled back with a smile.

“You said no wasting time. I’m just being efficient.” Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into his hand, he set the bottle aside and rubbed his hands together before running them back through her hair again. With even pressure and slow movements he gently massaged her scalp, the lather building up around his fingers.

She scoffed at that, Clint missing a meal? No chance in hell. "I don't know, you could do with loosing a few pounds" Throwing him a teasing smirk before it disappeared at the hand on her cheek drawing her in. She almost frowned at how brief it was, but managed to turn it around to grace him with a smile back.

"Oh you are certainly efficient Clint.." Natasha trailed off as soon as his hands met her hair and she instantly reached a hand out, curling fingers around his hip for balance more than anything. ".. And too good with your hands" The murmur was low and quiet, too busy with her eyes closed fighting off the urge to collapse on unsteady legs. He'd never let her live it down if her legs gave out on her again, she could only imagine the teasing now that would surely end in her kicking his ass.

"How'd you get so good at washing hair? Surely they didn't teach you this at the carnival?"

“Pfft, no fat to lose here,” he scoffed. “It’s all pure muscle, sweetheart.”

Clint definitely was enjoying this, the way she gripped onto him, how she seemed to almost melt under his hands; it was definitely satisfying. “You don’t know the half of it... yet,” he replied in a low, suggestive voice. It was tempting to elaborate with a little demonstration, but if she thought he couldn’t control himself around her then he was determined to prove her wrong. As much as he just pressed her against the tile wall and have his way with her right then and there he showed restraint.

“I didn’t always have such stylish hair,” Clint said, continuing his ministrations, making sure to comb down through the length of her hair to lather the ends as well. “Then there was Libby the Lobster Lady. She didn’t have fingers so much as claws, so sometimes she needed help with stuff like this.” He kept his expression and voice neutral so as not to give away whether he was joking or not.

Eyes would have rolled but considering she'd had to close them it was a lost motion. Instead she simply hummed out a content noise, increasing the pressure on his hip with slim fingers digging into the skin. "You contain more cheese than a cheese board Clint." Words were in good humor, fighting to stay upright, smile curling her lips.

Usually Natasha had a sixth sense around him, she could usually work him out, eventually. But this time with his being such a distraction she had no choice but to let a small laugh fall from her lips and nod her head, tilting only slightly to let him get better access.
"Libby huh? She sounds like your perfect kind of girl.. should I watch my back in case she tries to sink claws into me?" Eyes opened, lazily watching him, her free hand moving to curl fingers around his other hip.

Feet edged closer until she could close the gap, leaning up into his hands and to his lips, stealing a quick kiss. "Or better yet should I be worried she sank claws into you?"

The closer she pressed herself against him, the harder she dug her fingers into his hips, the more Clint had to work to keep from just giving in. There was the slightest crease between his eyebrows as he concentrated on her hair, though he couldn’t help but lick his lips after the brief kiss.

“That depends. Are you the jealous type, Romanoff?” he threw back the question she had refrained from asking earlier. “Though it’s kinda funny you ask when I still got the marks from your claws on my back.”

Tilting his head down as if to kiss her again, at the last second he dropped his lips lower to her jaw and then to her neck. Effectively tilting her head back, he pushed himself as close to her as possible, forcing her back a few steps until he felt the water running over the hands still tangled in her hair. Raising his head, he resumed a neutral expression and started rinsing her hair.

Natasha half smiled at his question, pondering ways to answer. Natasha got jealous, it was just something else she could add to the list of negative things about herself. It was never normally an issue, this jealousy game. The only time she ever felt jealous was when she was seducing some piece of shit while the guys got to sit around and watch her back, maybe it was about time she put her foot down. Then again it wasn't as if that was the only thing she could do, probably why she'd let it slide for so long, but with their new handler it seemed like the guy had a one track mind.

"Yeah, I'd say I am the jealous type Barton" Her eyes opened slowly, carefully watching him for a reaction, sometimes she wondered why she wasn't just completely open and honest with him. Maybe because he'd decide he didn't like what she was, or maybe she'd finally say something to scare him off. "Spiders don't have claws, we use our teeth mostly" Yes, she was referring to the bite mark on his arm, the nail marks were just a secondary effect.

A groan of contentment left her lips at his devilish way of getting her to tilt her head, moving with him, thumbs rubbing in small circles against his hips, eyes closed for the splash back of soapy water. The last thing she needed was to be blinded by vanilla shampoo.

Somehow it helped knowing that Natasha also got jealous. She never had to put up with the shit he did, he wasn’t a spy, he didn’t have to seduce the mark while she pretended not to care, but it somehow made him feel a little better knowing it would bother her if he did. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t given her other reasons to be jealous, off the job.

“Good. I’d hate to be the only one,” he admitted honestly, because why bother to hide it? “I hope there was no venom in that bite.”

Maybe there was, because he definitely felt different than he had before. Everything had changed in less than forty-eight hours and Clint was... surprisingly okay with that. More than okay if the changes meant he could feel more of what he was feeling right at this moment, in every way.

The noise she made almost made him reply in kind but he meticulously focused on his task, running fingers through her hair and carefully working through the tangles until it was smooth and all the suds were clear. Her hair felt much longer with the water straightening out the curls, but last time he had washed her hair it had been much longer than and the experience hadn’t been quite as pleasant considering the circumstances and Natasha’s mood at the time.

His task now completed, Clint softly kissed one closed eye, then the other to indicate she was now safe to open them.

"Oh? So you've got all that jealousy pent up huh? Must have been frustrating for you." Natasha wasn't sure what this was, where it would go with her refusal to believe that this was full-blown reality and her own disbelief at emotion, but the admittance of jealousy made her wonder if that could be just another push at her ceasing the seductive methods and going full tilt. Half the time she'd prefer to just lay in wait like a common spider on a web as opposed to her black widow persona.
"All out of venom, used it up on the guys I beat up".

If he wasn't careful she'd easily be able to slip in a few more hours sleep, being over tired and far too relaxed under his hands to fight off the feeling. Nose wrinkled at his kissed, reaching to wipe the excess water from her eyes, finally managing to open them deeming it safe enough after his confirmation.

"Mmm hey" Smirking up at him as she took a step closer, getting her head from under the spray, fingers sliding up his sides slowly before disappearing, twisting slightly to reach for the shampoo he'd discarded earlier. "So this isn't going to be as fun for you considering you have that short hair thing going on, but I'll try and make it worth it."

“You have no idea,” Clint replied, his voice a low grumble. Most of his one night stands seemed to follow the more... ‘frustrating’ missions with Natasha. Never completely satisfying but necessary nonetheless. “Good, I’d hate to be another victim. Remind me to stay on your good side.”

It was said lightly, an obvious joke, but there was some hidden truth to it as well. He didn’t want to be just another man she chewed up and spit out, though he was pretty sure there was no danger of that. He wasn’t just some guy, some mark, and he knew she’d never treat him as such.

“Hey back,” he responded in kind, smiling back at her as she pressed closer again. It seemed an impossible feat at this point but every movement seemed to press them closer together. Her hands slid along his skin, his own moving down from her hair to her back, but now it appeared it was his turn. “Let’s see what you got.”

She let a melodic laugh leave her lips at his voice, how low it became suddenly, forcing the urge of pure laughter back with a short cough. "Oh I may not have the full idea but the images are pretty good right now." Her eyes slightly darkened, head tilted as she watched him carefully, choosing her next words, trying not to skirt around the edge with an answer that could make this turn to work or anger him. "You know I switch off, you know that's not me doing the talking, it's not me telling them everything they want to hear. It's Stacy, or Lauren, or whoever I'm supposed to be playing" It seemed a reliable answer. "I wouldn't bring work home, not in that capacity. It's not, it's not me." She swallowed it back, all the personas, all the times she'd played the part of someone else for fear it would bring the screaming to her ears and the distaste on her tongue.

Instead she automatically busied herself, pouring a small amount of shampoo into her hands and running it through her fingers, making her way slowly around him in orbit until it was déjà vu of the other day, whenever that was, Natasha couldn't be bothered to count the hours back. Nudging him softly with a knee against his leg, smoothing hands through the back of his hair. She wasn't the tallest of women, then again he wasn't the tallest of men, the slight difference in height didn't make it difficult for her, even when he took eyes off her hands running the shampoo softly through his hair to drop to the curve of muscle in his back, leaning in to ghost lips over his skin, carefully minding the trails of suds rolling down his back. Sure she didn't make a habit of washing peoples hair but she certainly had a few tricks up her sleeves to make her shoddy work more enjoyable.

Natasha was nothing if not perceptive. Part of it was her training, she had been trained to notice the slightest changes in breathing and tone, the look in someone’s eyes, but Clint knew there was more to it than that when it came to him. Maybe she hadn’t noticed how his feelings had changed toward her because it had been so gradual and she hadn’t been looking for it, not to mention how long he had spent denying it to himself, but when she was trying, when she was looking for something it was more than difficult for him to hide it from her. She knew him too well, knew him better than anyone, and if he wasn’t on his guard she could read him like a book.

Even so, it was a bit of a surprise that she would broach he subject instead of just passing it off as nothing; a pleasant surprise. It was just further proof that... whatever this was between them meant as much to her as it did to him.

“I know,” Clint said quietly, and he did. He knew how much she hated what her job often required of her. “It doesn’t make it easy to watch, or to listen to, but I know. I deal with it. Always have.”

He closed his eyes as she moved around behind him, her fingers playing softly in his hair, her lips brushing against his skin. He placed one hand on the tile wall beside him, more for something to do with his hand than anything now that his task was done and she wasn’t quite as easily accessible.

Natasha fell silent, sorry seemed obsolete, shrugging seemed flippant and Natasha was neither of those things. "I know." Yeah, she went with the only two words she could think of, because her thoughts were the same. Sometimes she'd catch herself, a glance in a mirror, a moment behind closed eyes and revert back to Natasha for a split second, so quick it was missed, but it happened and in that small period the feelings of hate would wash over her easily, then of course she'd direct those feelings of hate into the closest person as she fell back into her role. The missions were a simple game, one she had to win whatever the cost, although she was starting to wonder whether the cost of making Clint feel this way outweighed the feeling of accomplishment. Maybe things were changing, maybe she was succumbing to how she felt deep down.

He wasn't a super soldier, he didn't have armor, he didn't carry around a sword and favored a medieval tool over the weight of a gun. It made her appreciate him more than anything else. The only other person she could relate to in a team of heroes.

Her eyes followed his hand, watching the muscle shift under his skin at the simple effort, nails rasped against his scalp softly, making sure he was lathered up enough before nudging him again further into the fall of the shower. Hands slid down, following the curve of water between his shoulder blades, smearing bubbles that disappeared quicker then she was willing to leave them, fingers softening over the nail marks. Everything committed to memory as lips found his neck and she nipped softly at the pulse in his neck, careless of the water catching her. "I think your back looks pretty good for saying my claws are useless."

Clint nodded almost imperceptibly at her acknowledgement. It was all she needed to say, what else was there? This wasn’t supposed to change them, they couldn’t let it change them, it would be risking too much. They had to just live with it, him with the knowledge that no matter what she did on the job it didn’t mean anything, and her knowing that it bothered him but that he could handle it. They could make it work, they had to at this point because he was certain he couldn’t go back to how things were, not after all of this.

He leaned into her touch, sighing heavily. He’d always loved having anyone mess with his hair, it was one of his secret simple pleasures, and while she finished far too soon it had certainly been enjoyable. He moved forward at her prompting, tilting his head back so the suds would run down his back instead of over his face. One side of his mouth curved upwards at her playful nipping.

“I never said that,” he replied, running a hand back through his hair to remove any remaining shampoo. “You weren’t listening.”

She bit down softly on his neck, humming a response to his word, eyes closed to stop the soapy water from his hair running into them although it didn't really matter that much considering the fact she could taste the soap in her mouth, on her teeth. It only made her crinkle her nose once, hands dropped down to his waist, curling them around until they pressed against his stomach.

"I know what you said, I was listening" She mumbled softly, teeth finding his earlobe and biting at it playfully with a laugh. "I meant it in response to what I said, about not having claws... forget it" Natasha trailed off, finding it hard to continue her train of thought when she could feel him relax that much into her touch. Raised up on her tip toes to keep lips pressed close to his ear she smiled slowly, "Vanilla suits you, more than it suits me, might let you take it with you.." She left the part about him being a good boy out, possibly because it was too condescending even for her and related to things she'd say on a job, instead she pressed lips to the soft spot below his ear as fingers trailed down his hips, finally reaching his length and stroking fingers along him slowly.

"You know, in the safe house, that was the first time in a very long time anything had ever been that intimate. It was worth the wait in so many ways and it made me feel safe, cared about. That's never happened. Ever" Words were mused, low and subtle, not so much as to perk Natalia's curiosity although she was there as always but as if she was letting him in on yet another secret, and hell it was to some extent.

Clint’s breath hitched slightly when she bit his earlobe, but he let it out in a chuckle when Natasha gave up trying to explain her words.

“Vanilla suits me? Not sure if I should take that as a compliment,” he laughed lightly. Usually people liked to use the term ‘vanilla’ to describe something boring lately, or if she was just talking about the smell alone... well, it certainly wasn’t a manly smell. Clint did enjoy it, though, but mostly because it reminded him of her.

A second later it didn’t matter and in fact all thoughts flew right out of his head as her hands travelled lower and the shower turned a lot less innocent. Sucking in a breath, he leaned a little heavier against the wall. He thought the time for talking was over, but he was wrong. Boy, was he wrong.

Her confession took him off guard; with all her teasing and seduction routines, the last thing he had expected at this moment was something so raw and real. Furrowing his brow, he tried to come up with just the right response, but nothing felt quite right, nothing could quite say enough without saying too much. “Natasha...” he whispered her name and that was as far as he got.

Edited 2012-10-09 00:00 (UTC)

Natasha's thoughts of an innocent shower had ended as soon as his hands had touched her hair, now it was time to well, metaphorically score a touchdown. After letting her guards drop that night in the safe house she'd felt the need to reclaim some glory, that seemed to come in the form of her pressed against him with her hands working their magic.

Her hand that was free raised, trailing fingers along his arm, finding where his hand met the wall and covering it with hers, breath hot on his ear as she laughed softly, hand falling into a steady rhythm with an added twist on the upstroke. "I fell apart for you, now I want you to return the favor." Tongue lightly traced the shell of his ear until the pressure in the balls of her feet got the better of her and she relaxed for a moment only to hold back a moan at the ease of which her name rolled off his tongue.

Natasha didn't find herself doing pillow talk, hardly enjoyed dirty talk when she had nothing but words to go off (which was how she liked to do a mission, background research through papers and accounts rather then going fishing herself, unless the target warranted it) but with Clint is was a different matter, probably because words came easier around him, maybe because they meant something, and maybe because a lot of things she'd say in moments like this were because saying them in any other context were too hard. In the heat of the moment she could blame it on lust or hormones, a poor excuse but one she'd use to her advantage.

Apparently the time for deep confessions was over and Clint let himself forget about trying to come up with the perfect thing to say. His breathing became a bit laboured as she stroked him, a moan escaping his throat when he tried to speak.

“Fuck, Tasha, you make me crazy,” he murmured. It wasn’t that he’d never had great sex before, but nobody could quite get under his skin and bring him to the brink so easily, so perfectly. It wasn’t just the sex, it was everything, because while he may have given up trying to respond to her words he hadn’t forgot them. He kept them close, he kept them in his heart, along with everything else they had said the past few days. “Oh god...” he could feel the release building until he hit the heights and toppled over the edge.

That was the whole point, to get under his skin, to reduce him to a mess. She tried so hard to remain Natasha but everything was familiar and it was hard to keep track of herself when she could feel his breathing hitch and hear him moaning. Sex would always hit close to home and remind her of the countless other times, the big difference was this was Clint, not some nameless face, not some enemy. This was her partner, her confidant, her Hawk.

She hummed softly at his words, took a moment to drop her head and smooth her tongue along the rapid beating pulse in his neck. That was until it was over and she lifted her lips, couldn't help the smile that shifted over them, instantly locking her free arm around his waist, the other still stroking him through the comedown. "Mmm you make the hottest little noises, it's kind of adorable in a way" She laughed softly, raising her hand to rinse it under the shower spray, both arms now around his waist, face moving to press her cheek to his back simply holding him through the rest of the high. "Think we can call us even, for now I mean. Hawk one, Widow one."

It took a few minutes to come down from the euphoria, his heartbeat still racing and his breathing shallow. He didn’t have it in him to argue against being ‘adorable’ this time, he just laughed a little at her words. “In a way?” he repeated, voice raspy.

Still leaning heavily against the wall on one arm, he laid the other across hers where they wrapped around his waist. “Alright, we’re even...” he conceded, ducking his head under the shower’s spray again and just letting it run down him. Good thing Tony was a genius and a millionaire, so the chance of the water running cold on them wasn’t likely. “But I’m sure gonna enjoy the game of trying to one-up you again.”