bakerstreet | The Compulsive Truth Telling Meme.

Entry tags:

The Compulsive Truth Telling Meme.

Dignity? Modesty? Propriety? Being able to keep secrets? These things are someone else's problem now that your character has been somehow given a super dose of truth serum. No matter what they do, they cannot help but tell the truth. They are compelled to do it and, by God, nothing's gonna stop. Nothing can stop them.

How to:

→ Post with your character . . . who has just been dosed with the ultimate magical truth serum, blurting out something they would otherwise lie about or keep secret. Maybe they are in the middle of spouting off an unpopular opinion, an embarrassing personal fact or admitting to a favorite sexual position or partner? Run wild the idea. Just . . .
→ DO NOT LEAVE YOUR COMMENT BLANK. It's your character and their secret.
→ Other characters reply with their reactions. Shenanigans ensue!
→ If confronted with a question, your character MUST answer all of them honestly.
→ Have fun and be excellent to each other.

Meme idea taken and modified from previous memes, notably this one from TLH.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Chuckling when she pointed out his lack of filter again, Clint breathed out slowly, his eyes drifting closed as she settled herself against him again. There was a wool blanket folded at the foot of the bed that he managed to catch with his feet and kick up far enough to grab with his free hand, drawing it up over them.

“SHIELD might not go for it, but I be we could convince Stark to foot the bill,” he said with a grin. Clint had be subjected to a few torturous shopping sprees with ex-girlfriends, but while the experiences were something he wasn’t too keen on recreating, with Natasha it would be different. They got each other, and he had no doubt she would find a way to make it entertaining. Also, he could give his honest opinion to her as opposed to just saying whatever the girl wanted to hear so they didn’t get angry at him.

Overall it wasn’t an altogether unappealing idea.

“After, of course,” he said, not even dwelling on the term ‘date’ that she so casually threw out there, because he knew it was casual and didn’t mean what other people seemed to attribute to it. Not for them.

Going silent a moment, Clint couldn’t help but wonder if she ever thought about life beyond SHIELD. Did she ever consider leaving? Did she ever wonder what her life would have been like had things been different? He thought about asking her but before he could form the words he remembered her predicament. This wasn’t the type of conversation to have when she had no choice.

“How are you feeling, anyway? Feel up to lying to me yet?” he asked.

The blanket had been the best idea of the night and Natasha shifted underneath it until she'd found a more comfortable position, one hand on the flat of his stomach drawing out warmth.

"Stark would probably ask for a private viewing or something." She rolled her eyes, crinkled her nose at the thought of parading outfits in front of him. No thanks. "He'd want to know if his money got put to good use".

She nodded, tapping fingers along his stomach, swiping her tongue along the split in her lip. "I feel crappy, and no." She sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "Don't think so. Still feel weird." She rolled a shoulder, "Why you ask? Got a burning question?" Tasha half smirked, prodding him softly in the stomach with a finger. "Because if so just ask, nothing could be worse then admitting I want to jump you".

“You’re probably right,” Clint replied, tucking his free hand behind his head. If Stark was bored enough he might even want to be involved in the shopping spree; if not, he would probably insist on seeing her in each outfit when back at the tower when she was done. “Maybe you should get Pepper to take you instead. That way she can approve of the outfits and tell him to stuff it if he wants to see them too.”

Not that Clint really wanted to give up his position of opinion giver and glorified bag carrier, but maybe it would be good for Natasha to get out and do something normal with another woman. Pepper could definitely keep Tony in line, but she wasn’t an alpha like Natasha, and like a lot of the agents of SHIELD fancied themselves to be. He had the distinct feeling that there was a reason his partner didn’t have female friends, and it started with dominance and competition.

His stomach muscles twitched when she prodded him, followed by his whole body tensing slightly at her words. He hadn’t exactly needed the reminder of what she had said, especially with how close and intimate they were laying at the moment. Did he have a burning question? He had many, several of which were directly related to that confession. Mostly he wanted to ask why she had never acted on it. Was it for the same reasons as him? Well, not at the beginning, because before he had gotten to know her, before they had grown close, he assumed that if he even thought of trying anything she might just kill him. As their partnership, their friendship, grew and blossomed, though, it became more about not wanting to risk what they had for some physical satisfaction. Maybe they could have done the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing, but how long before that wasn’t enough?

As bad as her admission had been there was always worse, she just couldn’t see it, maybe because she didn’t feel it. He could have just as easily joked around about love, and that was an answer he didn’t want to hear because hearing her say she could never love him, or however she chose to phrase it, was not so easily laughed off.

“Nah, nothing really,” he said after a long pause. “Just don’t wanna stick my foot in my mouth again. Besides, Fury will want to know how long it lasts.”

There was no way Natasha would ever step foot in a shop with Stark, not to buy clothing for herself anyway. She could only imagine the delight spreading on his face. The Widow asking Iron Man for fashion advice, it was almost as ridiculous as asking Thor to go with her. Then there was Pepper and for once Natasha could say she actually liked her. He'd have been bang on the money, Pepper wasn't alpha enough to spark the fire inside her and as for the Shield agents, well they couldn't match her, she'd proven that by flooring them all during training too many times to count.

"I might ask Pepper, although I'd rather drag you along. We could have a look at getting you a nice new set of skirts." A smug grin flashed on her lips although it faltered as she felt his stomach tense under her fingers and from the arm over her shoulders.

She half nodded, running a finger in a circle along his shirt. "But that's like, your signature move, the foot in mouth thing. It's slightly endearing."

Any questions posed about feelings would have been easy to answer under these circumstances, yet she feared the typical answer would be along the lines of 'I don't know'. She'd half wondered if there was a book for it, like those guides that showed you how to use a computer. 'Emotions and feelings for dummies'.

Her head half nodded as she yawned quietly, could feel her eyes becoming heavy again with the pressing warmth of his body being so close to hers. "Fury is sadistic like that" She mused, free hand tugging the blanket up them more. "I mean, he seems the type to have a good chuckle at our misfortune behind closed doors."

“I didn’t know skirts came in sets,” he said, chuckling a little. “Besides, I really don’t have the legs for them.”

Clint smiled a little to himself, feeling some minor satisfaction that even with a task like shopping Natasha would rather spend the time with him than anyone else. They had always been close, but ever since Loki the two of them had been near inseparable; had he allowed himself to think about it me might have found a lot of different possible reasons for it, but he preferred not to think. He would rather just enjoy their time together because if that incident had taught him anything it was that they just never knew how much time they had.

“Oh yeah, it seemed real endearing earlier when you were trying to kick me to death for it,” he replied, giving her shoulder a light pinch. In any other circumstances she might have been amused by his joking around but considering what she had ended up revealing because of it he could see why she hadn’t been too endeared at the time.

“I’m sure he enjoys it, but in this case I think it would be more about looking for useful intel. If they can figure out what it is that got you the techs might be able to recreate it. Would be a useful tool to add to our arsenal,” Clint explained. Maybe he didn’t trust Fury completely, with Coulson gone Natasha was the only one who held that distinction, but he did hold a great respect for the man.

Noting Natasha’s yawn, Clint moved his other arm from behind his head and wrapped it around her as well, enveloping her in warmth. “We still got some time, you should try to sleep it off.”  As an afterthought he placed a kiss on top of her head before settling back into the pillow.

"Mmm they come in sets, or when you go shopping with me they do" tasha rolled a shoulder in an aimless shrug, smirk playing along her lips. "Yeah your legs are too short for skirts". She shrugged again in an apologetic fashion, giving him a rare real smile.

She knew her time could be cut short at any moment. She knew this even with the enhancers, after all they'd done to her she still understood that in a split second she could cease to exist for real, not just an aimless blank alias, but the real her, gone. After Loki, the things he'd said had made her dwell on the fact that life was short, and that grabbing the metaphoric bull by the horns wasn't the worst plan she could think of.

It was why she simply hummed a response about Fury. Natasha held him in higher regard, possibly because Fury had become more of a confident then most. He knew the more intimate details of her encounters before Shield. He knew what she specialized in because like Coulson had been he was also her handler. It was why she worked alone sometimes, it was why she turned down the offer for backup because Fury had handpicked her above others for her specific skill sets. It was why she distanced herself from Clint days before she was due to leave, it made it all easier.

A sigh slipped past her lips, content with the new position, the increase in warmth and comfort. The kiss had surprised her, made her heart beat one skip faster, sent a subtle shudder down her spine. Indicators she should have pressed away from. All the signs she was in too deep, all the more reason to question what she'd previously known. She raised her head, pressing herself closer, catching and holding his gaze for longer then she should have. He was safe, her touch stone, her protector. The man who'd saved her life, the man who'd let her save his. The man who had her picking apart everything she'd ever believed and wondering if there was something more, a happier ending to her lifestyle. A way to cleanse her soul of the blood and darkness. She lent, lips above his, fractions away and yet she couldn't. Couldn't drag him into her mixed up sadistic world anymore than she had. Natasha wouldn't do that.

So why the hell she was suddenly kissing him she had no idea. Careless that he could probably taste her own blood on her lips, careless of anything except being lost in the warmth and haze of her sleepy state. She broke, breath slow, slipping back away until she was curled up and forced the feeling of regret from her system. "G'night Hawk".

She was a goner either way. So why not make the most of everything. Why not throw caution to the wind and learnt to feel something more.

“Hey, I’m not short,” Clint protested halfheartedly. He certainly wasn’t the tallest of men, but if poking fun at him got her to smile like than they he could certainly take it.

Feeling her shiver in his arms, he misunderstood, thinking she was cold, and rubbed her arm gently. He didn’t think anything when she pressed closer to him again until he opened his eyes to find her looking at him. Even in the darkness he felt he could see the vivid green in her eyes and it was drawing him in. She was hovering over him, so close he could almost taste her, his every breath filled with her, the warmth of her body against his spreading to every inch of him, filling him with comfort and need, with trust and desire.

Then she kissed him and he felt his senses ignite. She tasted of coppery blood and spices, intrigue and... home. Before he could even accept that it was happening, before he could react, she was already pulling away to settled against him again. Good night? A good night kiss? No, they didn’t do that, that wasn’t their thing. They talked and they cuddled and they danced around it always but it didn’t end that was, so why...

“Why did...”

He trailed off. Don’t ask. Don’t complicate things. Don’t ruin it all. Don’t. 

Everything had led up to that moment. She'd been done playing games with him long before now, tired of being the seductress, tired of making men fall in love and breaking them apart. Tired of being unwanted for anything more then lust. She didn't know how he felt, didn't want to know because she was stepping into new ground, territory she couldn't navigate in and it scared her, no, it terrified her. If only they could see their Widow now. Curled in the arms of the man who'd stolen her away.

She heard the beginnings of a question, opened eyes to calmly stare up at him. "Because I wanted to" She'd made it clear it was her, not her persona, not her past, just Natasha. The girl he'd saved from self-destruction.

"I overstepped a boundary yet I feel no guilt" She propped herself up on one arm, eyes half closed with sleep. "I like surrounding myself with you because your something real and solid. It's miles away from everything I've known and you make me feel like Natasha, you make Natalia seem like another person entirely, you make me feel like Natasha is all I've ever been" Tasha shrugged, removing her arm and returning back to his side. "You make me feel less like the predator I was made to be and more like a normal human being. It's foreign ground but I'm getting there".

It wasn’t a full question so Clint wasn’t sure how that would work. Would she still have to answer it? Technically he could have been starting to ask anything, though clearly the actual question was obvious.

He didn’t know whether he should expect an answer and wasn’t sure if he wanted one. He wasn’t prepared for what he got.

He knew how Natasha felt about her past, how she felt he had saved her from her old life and given her a fresh start, how she felt she would always owe him for that, but he hadn’t known how deep it truly ran. She couldn’t know how much it meant to him, hearing that he could drown out the sorrows of her past, such horrors that no person should ever have to live with.

He didn’t know how to respond; what could he possibly say to that? Nothing he could say would be enough, nothing he could say could do justice to what he was feeling. His heart was swelling with gratitude to the forces that had brought this woman into his life, with pride that he could banish her demons just by holding her, with love because there was no denying it.

Clint wanted to say something just as meaningful, he wanted to tell her how she had saved him just as much, not just with Loki but long before that. When SHIELD found him he had hit rock bottom but they gave him something to fight for and he had become the perfect little soldier, doing his job and killing whoever they pointed him at with no remorse. It was a dangerous path into darkness, but she had brought light back into his life. She was his anchor, she kept him human, she reminded him there was more to life than death.

He wanted to tell her all of these things but he couldn’t find the words; he had always been better with actions than words. Lifting his hand he brushed it back through her hair to rest at the nape of her neck, urging her to look at him. When she tilted her head up he held her gaze for a moment before pressing his lips to hers.

Screw the boundaries, he was getting sick of them anyway.

Natasha dealt with silence well, Natalia never did. Natalia would have pressed the cold edge of a knife against his neck and forced him to spill the most intimate of secrets, Natalia would have sliced into skin just because she could. Natasha hated the thought of Her coming out to play, because if She ever got the upper hand the woman would destroy everything in Natasha's life, starting to Clint.

Losing him would have been like losing the ability to breath. Like drowning in the sea, under the blackest waters. If she lost him she'd have to follow for her own sanity and the safety of others around her.

She felt she'd said enough, never one to beat around the bush was Tasha, she liked to convey words, didn't like to skirt around the issue and if it was a topic she didn't want to talk about she'd simply not speak. It was easy.

The silence however was still a heavy weight and a part of her wanted to open eyes and stare at him to make sure he wasn't grimacing and wanting to push her away, fear of not being accepted for the real her she guessed.

She certainly didn't expect to feel his fingers pressing into the skin of her neck, didn't expect him to be staring at her with a gaze that told her everything she needed to know about companionship and trust. There was something else in his eyes, but Natasha couldn't put her finger on it, instead she stared back until his lips touched hers and she pressed her body into his, hooking a leg between his, hand struggling its way from the confines of the blanket to grasp his shirt again, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was sweet, a kiss full of things she didn't fucking know about yet she felt everything. From the way her heart sped up, a clenching in her stomach and the soft prickle across her skin. Even when she pulled herself back to breath her lips still tingled with the taste of him and she couldn't help but swipe her tongue over her bottom lip, relishing the taste.

She wanted to say something, felt the need to impose more home truths while she was feeling this way but she'd ran out of things to say so she simply rolled onto him, settling between his legs, one hand on his chest, the other planted firmly on the mattress of the cot as she lent back in to find his lips again, seeking out that taste and the tingling across her skin.

The kiss could have been soft and exploratory, or desperate and ferocious, but it fell somewhere in the middle, somehow managing to encompass all things at once. If it was possible he put everything he felt into the kiss, everything he was, everything he had wanted to say but didn’t know how.

When she pulled back his eyes opened partway, transfixed for a moment as her tongue darted across her full lips. It was the moment of truth; maybe they had already gone to far to turn back now without any permanent damage, but this felt like the make or break moment.

The words wouldn’t come now any more than they had a moment ago.

He kept his hands on her neck and her back and other than flexing his fingers in her hair he made no movement until she lay herself completely on top of him, decision made. He managed a half smile before she kissed him again, all doubts and reservations instantly forgotten. He had wanted this - wanted her - for so long, but this was so much better than he’d ever dreamed. Her mouth was hot and insistent, her body warm and firm; he wanted to bury himself in her, lose himself in her in every way.

She'd played with hearts for so long that none of this felt real. For one it wasn't. She wasn't doing this to gain information, an item or because she was told to. She was doing this because she wanted him, wanted to feel his hands on her skin, wanted to trail lips everywhere and find out which places made him falter. More so she wanted to feel alive, to feel every emotion whether it be pain, pleasure or somewhere in between.

It felt bittersweet, something that felt like guilt grasping it's cold hand along her heart, squeezing until the rush of blood in her ears was almost as terrifying as the white noise that used to take her over before the blackouts.

Natasha broke off, pulled back slightly to balance herself above him, green eyes, pupils blown out caught his and she instantly bit into her own lip.
Breath caught in her throat, eyes rolling over him, leaning to attach lips to his neck, roaming over the column of his throat, lips moving back to his inches away.
"We're leaving this out of the reports" She murmured, smiling slightly until she gave in and tugged softly on his bottom lip with her teeth, finding it too much to resist, wanted to wrap him around her. "My Hawk" She mumbled, swallowing words, trying to keep the contact, deepening the kiss the third (or forth, she lost count easily) time her lips found his.

He felt like he was drowning in her; her smell, her taste, her touch, they were intoxicating. He wanted to explore every inch of her, to memorise every freckle and every scar. He looked up at her when she broke the kiss, his fingers threading gently through her hair, reading nothing but desire and need in her eyes despite her inner turmoil. His own eyes drifted closed again when she started working on his neck, a slight moan escaping his lips.

“My lips are sealed,” he chuckled against her mouth, his eyes flashing when she bit lightly on his lip. One hand sliding down to grip her ass, he slipped his other between them to catch the zipper on her catsuit. Black cargos, black t-shirt and the jacket he’d already discarded made for a fairly simple uniform, but Natasha seemed partial to her one piece suit, something Clint had imagined peeling off of her more than once.

My Hawk she called him and he felt his heart swell. Try as he might have to deny it he had been hers for a long time now she had just never taken him, never claimed him. “Always,” he murmured without a thought, any other words he might have had devoured in her kiss.

Letting an approving noise leave her throat with his fingers in her hair. Smiling against the skin of his throat at the moan she'd managed to persuade to leave his lips.

Her hips cantered into his, hissing in frustration at the fact she had no room to actually touch him, considering she now had the perfect chance to explore his skin with a closer inspection then just rolling looks after a mission or after a heavy sparring match.

She latched arms suddenly round his neck, rolling over, switching the roles. From her new position she got more leverage, able to hook a leg around his waist, stubby nails running along his scalp, breath hot against his lips. The simple word he'd spoke made her stomach curl, a pleasent ache. Everything felt right even though it should have been wrong, they shouldn't be doing this.

It was wrong, so damn wrong and yet she couldn't help but slide hands up his shirt, running fingers along the flat of his stomach. She could feel out the scars, knew were they were from working with him for so long, could pinpoint the ones she made and the ones she helped heal. "Shirt off Barton". It was suppose to be a command but it turned out to be more of a whimper, pushing her body up, brushing lips against his.

Clint wasn’t expecting it when Natasha suddenly flipped them over so that she was now on bottom, her leg wrapped around his waist. It was a pleasant surprise and he smiled against her lips, opening his eyes briefly to look at her. She was impatient, yearning, and the way she squirmed against him definitely had a very physical and obvious effect on him. It wasn’t all physical, though; where before he had been worried about starting down this path, now he didn’t know why they had waited so long. It felt so good, so right, and it was only the beginning.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied to her order, secretly delighting in her tone of voice. It had been amazing enough hearing her admit to wanting him, but to actually see the proof, to feel it, was another thing entirely.

Sliding his hands around her back he pulled her up with him to his knees as he sat back on his heels, her leg around him locking her in place. Pulling his shirt off over his head he tossed it carelessly aside, grinning roguishly at her. “See something you like, Romanoff?” It was a cheesy line, but he just couldn’t help it.

The sudden influx of feelings washed over her as if none of this was real. What to believe. Her whole life had been constructed from careful lies leading her to believe everything. The she'd been in love with a man and married him, that he'd died and she fucking grieved. Then to find him alive and trying to kill her, only to take him down and destroy him. Others came and went, building the tower that Clint had practically blew up. Natalia was still there in the back of her mind ready to strike out claws and scream for the blood lust she'd been lacking thanks to Natasha carefully locking her away, pushing her out.

She felt herself be pulled up, wrapping her other leg around him to keep the balance, but it was like she was locked in limbo, a fantasy fit for the storybooks she'd filled her head with when she'd became a better person.

Gaze followed the shirt, shifting back to meet his eyes before slipping down to take in the same old sight she'd saw a million times before in a whole new light. Every scar, every mark, every hidden muscle which she saw shifting under his skin. Natasha started slow, trailing a finger along one ragged scar, finding another and another. A familiar one under her fingers, one Natalia had caused so many years ago back when she'd clawed her way into Natasha's body and mind and taken her under.

At the time she'd apologized so much through ragged breath and mouthfuls of vomit. Now she almost cast a crooked smile but instead lent it, tongue tracing the slow path her finger had taken. She paused at the question, meeting his eyes, "You know I do Barton, always appreciated the view, even when I made some of these myself" She tapped against the scars, intrigued by them as if she hadn't witnessed a scar this close but hell they both knew that wasn't true considering her own body was riddled with them. "How many? Don't think I've ever asked."

His muscles flexed under her gentle touch, and while she was focused on his chest his eyes never left her face, watching the subtle change in her expression as she inspected each scar she found, some familiar and others not. He knew which one she paused on, he remembered all too well the fear he’d felt at the time, and the helplessness afterwards when she tried to deal with it. The scar itself still tingled under her touch, the skin beneath it never fully regaining the feeling, forever numb. It was a strange sensation when she ran her tongue along it, causing him to suck in his breath.

“You branded me long ago,” his eyes on her face again, his movements having stilled under her exploration, his hands at her lower back just to hold her up.

“I... I’m not sure,” he admitted, looking down at his own scars. “Lost count somewhere between ‘a few’ and ‘a few too many’.”

Having someone watch her was nothing new, it wasn't as if she shied away from peoples eyes, probably because Natalia had always been an exhibitionist in every craft she'd mastered.

Yet having it be Clint's gaze was something new and foreign, being desired was good fun but having the guts to desire someone in return was a nice change, reveling in it almost, this new feeling or wanting something and not just for a fraction of a second either, but for something more.

She held his gaze, merely tilting her head slightly. "Could have killed you, She was begging for it. To spill your blood, take you apart, leave you while you died" Everything was nonchalant, nothing touched her eyes mainly because it was old history. It hadn't been her, not Natasha, not really. Natasha had simply been a passenger in that car wreck and she'd dealt with the repercussions years ago, couldn't look him in the eyes, couldn't be around him for that nagging fear that She'd be back to finish the job. "It suits you". The contrast between the silver line and his tanned skin was like staring at a masterpiece. Natalia may have been subdued but her misdeeds had branded Natasha.

She knew about that, had tried to count her own but got lost after thirty and had shocked herself too much to re-count. Her fingers retracted, reaching to tug the zipper of her suit down slightly until the knot of scar tissue along one collar bone was fully revealed, his own brand. "Yours was a lot cleaner then mine huh?" Natasha managed a slow smile, pressing a finger to her scar. "I always liked this one. It was clean, efficient, but not a killing blow, just a harsh warning huh?" Her hand dropped, reaching back out to glide fingers down the center of his chest.

Sometimes it bothered him how detached she sounded when she spoke of ‘Natalia’, but he quickly reminded himself that she had already run the gambit of guilt and self-hatred and had come out on the other side. She had been brainwashed, experimented on, and he couldn’t blame her for anything she had done before she had been able to overcome what had been done to her. It was good that she could look back on it now as another life, another person; if she had chosen to dwell on it she would have become a liability that SHIELD wouldn’t have been able to afford.

“And I could have killed you when Loki had me playing his minion,” Clint replied softly. He hadn’t reached that point yet, the point where he could view his actions as someone else, completely out of his control. He still felt guilt for all the damage he had caused, all the lives that had been lost, and like Natasha there would always be a lingering fear that someday, somehow, the darkness would take him over again. “I figure that makes us pretty even.”

Smirking slightly, his eyes were drawn down as she started to unzip her suit, smooth flesh slowly being revealed but stopping far too soon. She certainly had the least revealing ‘superhero’ costume he had ever seen on a woman which normally was a good thing, the fact that it was skin tight was distracting enough in the field, but at this moment it was frustrating as hell.

“A strong warning,” Clint agreed, reaching up to pull aside the collar of her uniform, giving him better access. Mimicking her earlier actions, he bent his head and flicked his tongue over the scar before placing a soft kiss to the damaged skin. They had both left marks on each other, but only some of them were visible.

"Intimately?" The question was immediate, reflecting on what Loki had said, she hadn't understood it, not fully contemplating his words because intimacy had been something she'd always lacked. Natalia had reared her ugly head at those words, had left behind a stain that scared her more then the promises Loki made. "We're not even. You barely scratched the surface. Imagine it being years instead of a few short days, imagine living with countless other people you believed you were at one point in your life." Every word held no emotion, nothing moved, she'd been done repenting for her sins long ago, repenting to gods she didn't believe in.

"Just another chance for you to get rid of me. Just another time you chose the other way out" Breathing came hard, long drawled breaths as his tongue worked along the scar, skin burning, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach. She refrained from making any noise, just tipped her head back and bit into her lip.

Hips rolled softly into his, hands bracing on his shoulders as she finally got a hold of herself and managed to stare down at him. "Jesus Clint, the things you do to me"

Clint gave her a strange look at the question, the single word. After she had evaded his question the first time he’d never tried to pose it again so he never had discovered what Loki had done to her. In the weeks that followed she had been more focused on helping Clint deal with his guilt and his fears; it had just never come up again, and now certainly wasn’t the time to get into it. Maybe some day he would ask her again, someday when he thought he could handle it. He was doing much better as time pressed on, but it was still a difficult subject, one he’d rather avoid than delve into.

So he said nothing, just like he didn’t try to argue when she played up her debt to him. He knew they would never be even in her eyes and he knew what he had gone through couldn’t even begin to compare to what had been done to her, but that didn’t mean he felt it any less. Someone always had it worse in life, but that didn’t make your own trials and tribulations any harder to deal with.

“If by ‘chose’ you mean ‘got some sense knocked into me’ then sure,” he said, choosing the lighter path of conversation. He didn’t want to ruin the moment by seriously pointed out that he hadn’t killed her because she had stopped him any more than he wanted to risk making it too much at once by admitting he’d be lost without her. Instead he focused on her body moving against his and the change in her breathing.

Gently lowering her onto her back again he grazed the scar with his teeth before smiling against her skin. “I’m only just getting started,” he said, voice low and full of promise. They still had a couple of hours until extraction and with this new development he'd given up all thought of sleep. Slowly lowering the zipper on her suit he followed with his lips, trailing kisses down her body with each new inch of skin that was revealed.

Tasha caught his look, noted she'd probably gone to far but her reasoning was valid. How far did you push in a situation like this? When you had no grasp on what you were feeling, when you didn't understand what it all meant, how it meant to fall in love or be in love. She lent, pressing lips to his softly in an apology, hand trailing softly up his neck, running along his jaw.

Finding her vantage point had changed again, on her back where it felt familiar to both her and Natalia except this time Natasha was in charge of everything. She trusted him, it was evident with how compliant she was and to admit that was to give up her control and power, which is why she didn't say that word, but just watched him, hands in his hair, smoothing it down and ruffling it back up over and over.

Her back arched slowly at how rough his voice sounded and those words, it hit her like a train and she couldn't help the soft groan that slipped out as his lips pressed against her skin with every notch of the zipper. Slithers of Russian followed, never fully vocalized, just half words from her jumbled mind. She couldn't remember a time when someone treated her like she was something rare and fragile, only remembered hot kisses and tangled sheets, this was something else that was new and different. Natalia remembered times gone by, but those were Her memories and Natasha didn't want to know the details, wanted this to be the first time, wanted to remember this for her own benefit.

"Clint" His name came out more whiny then she wanted it to be, felt foolish afterwards, tugging on his hair softly. "Need more, this.. I'm not going to break"

How she arched her back, the groan, the broken Russian that he couldn’t understand... it all just egged him on. Victory had never tasted so sweet, he totally got that quote now, but as he told her this was just the beginning.

Unclasping her belt when it obstructed his path, he didn’t let it slow him down, only stopping his descent when the zipper hit its end, the last kiss landing just below her navel. He raised his head then just enough to look up the length of her body at her.

“Is that so...” Clint said, grinning devilishly at her. Crawling back up her body he captured her lips once more, keeping his weight off of her with one hand while the other slipped inside her suit, pushing it down off one shoulder. “What do you need?” he murmured between kisses, only subconsciously thinking about the curse she was still under. If there was ever a time to exploit it this was it.

She pulled herself together, managed to remove hands from his hair long enough to plant elbows on the bed, pushing herself up to watch him with heavy, dilated eyes.

Her skin was on fire, his lips cooling the nerves that made her muscles tremble until she felt frustrated almost at how slow and careful he was being.

She whined, low in her throat, let him swallow them back as his lips finally found hers and she arched up further giving him room to manipulate that damn suit. A question she was scared to answer, more scared then anything because she felt on fire, felt needy and helpless to his actions. The Widow, helpless, that deserved a laugh.

"You. I need you, all of you. Want you on me, in me, suffocating me, steal my breath, make me forget, just, make me feel" Words were mumbled, clumsy and whimpered against his lips, legs sliding around his waist desperate for any kind of friction. "Want to be wrapped around you. Fuck I've been holding back for so long because I thought it was the right thing to do, but it wasn't because if it was then this wouldn't feel so good".

The words were frantic, jumbled, and they spoke to his very core. He wanted to worship her body, show her what it was really like to feel good, to feel loved, but his own need increased with every word that fell from her lips. He just wanted to bury himself inside her until they were both screaming, and that need was starting to outweigh everything else.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted, tugging almost desperately at her suit, trying to free her arms. “Jesus, how do you even get into this thing?”

It looked good on her, he couldn’t deny that, but it was a pain in the ass to try to get off and frustrating as all get out at the moment. He couldn’t even take the time to admire what he had already uncovered.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject