She had it on the money. He had watched her so many times from the shadows, meager backup while she did her job, and he could never decide whether hated it or found it sickly fascinating. He knew nothing she did on assignment ever meant anything to her, but he hated how she had to pretend that it did, how she used her body to catch their interest and bend them to her will. She was right, he wanted to dominate her if only to prove that he could, that it was possible to make the infamous Black Widow submit to him, and the more she talked about it the more he wanted it.

“You gotta admit, I was doing pretty good a few minutes ago,” Clint said with a grin. He could be serious, and he would be when he had to, but the fact that this was actually happening left him almost giddy when he took a moment to think about it... something that was becoming increasingly hard to do when Natasha started grinding against him through the little clothing they were left wearing. “Jesus, Tasha,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back slightly.

Grabbing her tightly, without warning he rolled them over again and pressed her back into the mattress, one knee between her legs to keep them parted and pushing up hard against her, and kissed her forcefully. At this rate they would tear each other apart in every painfully pleasurable way they could.