bakerstreet | The Compulsive Truth Telling Meme.

She had him completely pliable under her fingertips, she could tell it in his eyes, with every muttered word, every time she shifted and took on the task of almost worshiping the next scar. She stilled her movement, keeping eye contact and smiling, a wolfish grin with a coy look in her blackened eyes. "Because you want to know if I'd play submissive for you. You follow my commands like a lost puppy Clint. Whenever we work together you're always in the shadows, in the wind. This is the one chance you'd get to exert your male dominance. And you'd be the only man I'd let dominate me completely." She pushed herself more, setting herself in his lap with a roll of her hips, leaning to skirt lips over his jaw. "I've always been in control, you've seen it, always felt you through the scopes, watching me turn the worst of men to nothing. You're telling me you don't want to give it a go?"

Her eyebrow raised, lips moving to ghost over his. Too many questions again and yet still different, what did she want? "I don't know" For the first time she'd answered with something impartial because the two things she wanted couldn't be separated in her mind. "I want to come apart under your hands, want to feel you for days, relish the bruises. Then again I want to take you apart, show you how much I've wanted this, prove to myself that even with Her gone I still have it, that I can break any man down."

Natasha pressed lips to his, a chaste kiss, a contrast against the sordid conversation, rocking her hips against him in slow strokes.

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.

Natasha was too far gone to take his amusing words, couldn't shift that predatory smile from her lips, couldn't crack into a smile. She tried hard to remind herself that he wasn't a target, this wasn't a mission. She didn't need to batter eyelashes and turn on the charm, didn't need to seduce or play coy. Just needed to be Natasha.

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes staring down into his. "Jesus isn't going to help you Clint." She let his name roll off her tongue, both sweet and sour and then his hands were on her arms, rough fingers digging into her skin and she was beneath him, hands moved to claw nails down his back, hips rising against his strategically placed leg desperate for something.

Nails bit into his skin, could practically feel the skin break under the pads of her fingers, struggling still for that give of domination. Only because it added to the effect and it was naturally her way. Even if she would eventually fall submissive because she wanted to, not a lie for his own ego, because she trusted him not to destroy her. Lips pressed back, back arching to push herself higher into him, part of her counting this truth telling as a small blessing.

Her nails dug into his skin and he felt both pain and pleasure at once. They didn’t have to hold back with each other; they could go hard and rough, they could leave marks and they didn’t have to worry about either of them really getting hurt.

One hand moving down to cup her breast, he broke the kiss and trailed his lips over to her ear. Catching the lobe between his teeth, he bit down just enough to leave a light indent. “How bad do you want me?” he breathed in her ear, voice rough with desire. He pushed his leg harder against her, feeling her wet against his skin.

Her back arched further, pushing herself into him, relishing in the contact she'd wanted for too long. And then he was speaking and she whimpered at his words, a heavy shudder rolling along every inch of her body, clamping teeth into her lip until she had to answer. "So bad, so fucking bad it hurts".

She twisted her head, teeth finding his bicep and biting roughly into the skin. Senses in overdrive. She couldn't remember the last time she wanted something so badly, especially not sex, not something she was used to by now considering her job role. She wasn't just there as a seduction technique, wasn't there to use her body but it came easy when faced with a situation that meant a bullet in her body or screwing someone she hated, and truth be told it rarely reached that point anyway through a heavy dose of drugs and foreplay. This was worlds apart.

Tasha tasted blood in her mouth, unsure if it was coming from her newly bust lip or his arm, pulling back to stare at the deep teeth marks and realizing it was a bit of both. "Need more, need you to break me" She wasn't going to beg but that look in her eyes should have said enough, more than her words ever could convey.

Clint winced slightly when Natasha sunk her teeth into him and his eyes quickly darted to her face, pupils dilating. She was watching him, her eyes full of need, full of so many emotions, and practically begging him to take her. He kissed her again tasting blood on her lips and it was strangely erotic, though at this point pretty much anything would have been.

He moved his leg from between hers, reaching down between them to pull at her panties, pushing them down her legs so that all that remained between them was his boxers. He wanted to feel her, to taste her, but there would be time for exploration later. They both needed the release now more than anything. Grabbing her ankle he drew her leg back up around him as he positioned himself between her legs. “Will you scream for me?” he whispered, mouth trailing down to the hollow of her collarbone.

Nothing had ever come close to this, Tasha literally felt like she couldn't breath, every gasp for breath was a burn deep in her lungs. Everything seemed too much, even lifting her hips up enough to aid him seemed like a big deal with her constantly shuddering body.

Feeling him against her with only that one damn barrier left was like bracing herself for a backhand from a foe, she knew it was coming but she wasn't sure when and if she'd be prepared. Locking her leg around his waist, almost sobbing at his question as she tried to breath. "Yes, only for you" Her words were definitively a sob, hands moving to run fingers up his arms, threading up his neck, through his hair, everywhere she could reach, lapsing into broken Russian with every ragged breath.

Her voice when she spoke just about undid him. It was a bit of a struggle to remove the last bit of clothing in his current position, but he kept her distracted with lips and tongue and teeth, murmuring soft words here and there that were barely audible, barely intelligible.

Free of the final restriction Clint asked no more questions and gave up all notions of making her beg. He could feel her falling apart against him and that was enough, it was more than enough. They had both been waiting far too long, not just tonight but for years. It was long enough.

Without further preamble and in one swift stroke he entered her, filled her, buried himself as deep as he could.

Everything was so right with the situation. A long time overdue, she'd waited patiently like the good girl she could be and finally, finally thanks to a stroke of bad luck she'd got what she wanted.

Finally he'd got rid of his boxers and seeing the determination written over his face was enough to give her time to brace herself. Then again bracing herself was difficult, as soon as his hips moved she was shuddering, almost convulsing against him, hands had slipped from his hair to grasp at the blanket, curling her fingers into the material and struggling to take in a breath.

Bringing her other leg up to latch around his wait, hand untangling to move down, pressing fingers against his hip, holding him still while she twitched and shifted to adjust. "Fucking, Jesus, fuck" It appeared she'd lost the ability formulating an actual sentence.

For a long moment he didn’t move, just held her close as she shuddered against him, shifted to adjust to him. She tossed her head back on the pillow, her hands digging into the blankets and it was about the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was a goddess, a temptress, and even if only for this moment she was his.

Lowering his head he kissed her, but it wasn’t rough and desperate as before. This time it was gentle, slow, full of meaning he couldn’t express with words even if he thought he could talk right then. He started to move, slow and deep, fingers digging into her hip, his other hand curling in the fiery red hair he loved so much.

He'd won the battle, broke her down so far she couldn't think. Natalia was there, screaming insults at the back of her mind, trying to claw her way back in to show Natasha how it was done but no, not now, not ever. Natasha pushed her back, this was a moment she didn't want ruined by her sadistic counterpart.

She caught his lips, a life raft in a storm. Hands caught his face, pressing her forehead to his and keeping him close. The kiss was careless on her part, too busy with endless murmurs, too busy trying to conduct air into her body and as soon as he started moving she was gone again. Wrapping legs tighter around his waist, drawing him in. She whined, nose nudging his and it was all too sweet and too intimate for her to cope with, so she didn't cope, she simply clung on because he was doing everything right, pushing every button she had and it took everything in her power to not let go then and there. She was usually hard to please, but everything, the lead up, the wait had heightened everything. "God you feel so good" Her voice kept breaking but she didn't care, simply pressed shaky lips back to his, slowly rolling her hips to meet his.

They moved together in perfect rhythm, their bodies melding together as one. When he increased the pace she matched him flawlessly though her hands still grasped at him erratically and her words came out broken and shaky. He didn’t reply because he was afraid his heart would betray him, speaking words he didn’t think she was ready to hear, words she may never be able to return.

His senses were heightened, he could feel his release building, nearing the breaking point as he moved harder, faster. “Tasha...” the nickname rolled off his tongue, his voice cracking between the syllables.

The change in pace made her toes curl, made her whimper against his lips and the last straw was the cutesy nickname she'd finally agreed he could call her leave his lips. She didn't scream as the pace tipped her over the edge, just repeated his name over and over, lips pressed up to his ear, choking out sobs.

Hell it was probably better then her screaming anyway since they seemed to be past that point long ago. She'd fell submissive enough to let him top and to let him dominate over her body with the pace. Her body seized up, pressing their chests together, could feel his heart beating against her skin, legs tightened drawing him impossibly deeper and the shudders had turned to shakes.

For a minute she couldn't breath, he'd done what she'd asked, stole the life from her body for a fraction of her life and yet as she clung onto him with hands locked behind his neck she regained the ability to take in air, still whimpering his name in broken letters.

He reached his climax only a moment after her, driven on by how she practically choked out his name and how she tightened around him. Collapsing against her he buried his face in her neck, feeling their hearts racing together or against each other, it didn’t matter.

He didn’t move for a long while besides the involuntary shudders and the slight movement of his head as he nuzzled into her neck. He could feel her pulse against his lips and he whispered her name to its rhythm. This was everything he had ever imagined and more, so much more.

If she wasn't tired before she certainly was now, hands smoothed their way across his shoulders, along the back of his neck, everywhere she could touch to make sure this was real and it hadn't been another one of those grand lies.

She kept hearing her name somewhere through the haze, smiled slightly. This was too good to be a dream, it felt too right, too real. The haze shifted slightly and she realized the reason she was struggling to breath was because she was laying under a sated, boneless Hawk. "Clint, I can't breath" She mumbled, stroking a hand through his hair in an affectionate manner until she tightened strained legs one more time and lazily rolled them over, taking the blanket with her and wrapping it over her shoulders before settling back on his chest.

In that simple movement she realized the extent of how her muscles burned, calves threatening to cramp every time she moved her legs but fuck was it so worth it. "That was.." She couldn't even finish the sentence, couldn't find the right word to describe it, instead she lent and pressed lips softly to his.

A lazy smile curled his lips as her hands ran softly along his skin; if he were a cat he would have purred at the attention. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard her words but they didn’t register, the meaning seemed to have no meaning until she was smoothly rolling them over so she now lay on top of him. His arms settled loosely around her, holding her against him, keeping her there, never wanting to let her go.

“Yeah,” he agreed to her unfinished sentence. He knew what she meant without saying it, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have the right words either. Kissing her again, quickly and almost chastely, he finally opened his eyes to look up at her though his lids were heavy. “You’re beautiful,” he muttered, one side of his mouth curving up in a lopsided grin. “Not to mention fucking amazing.”

She was glad he got it, what she'd tried to say but got stuck on. This was too new, all of it. Even speaking after sex was new, usually with a mark he'd passed out long before she ever got close to even being aroused by their greedy hands, let alone sticking around for the aftermath.

Tasha half smiled, catching his eyes with hers for a fraction before she closed them and shifted to rest her head on his chest, across his heart, listening to it beating. "And you're tired." She mumbled, just saying the word had her yawning, trailing a hand up his chest to press against the center softly. "You got what you wanted, you made me submissive. That stays between us." She lifted her head for a moment, managing to sleepily look up at him. "And yeah the feelings mutual on the amazing part, can't remember a time a guy got me off, not before him anyway. Now get some sleep before we get the fuck out of here."

When she lay her head on his chest he kissed the top of her head softly, the action that had started them down this path in the first place. Settling back against the pillow he let his eyes drift closed again, the sound of her voice lulling him. “All I wanted was you,” he muttered, barely audible, more to himself than to her. Ultimately it was true, he would have been just as happy had she taken control of the entire situation, but he couldn’t deny that he had loved that she had let him take over. She had said he was the only man she would let dominate her and he took great pride in that fact. It meant something that she trusted him that much.

She just kept feeding his ego too, and while it was a damn crime that she’d gone so unsatisfied for so long, he took a certain glee in that fact. Lazily trailing his fingers up her spine, he adjusted the blanket on her shoulders. Despite everything that had happened, everything that was probably going to change, they were still them and sweet pillowtalk wasn’t something they were going to fall into easily. “Mmm,” was his only reply, already drifting into a contented sleep, the warmth of her body and steady beat of her heart carrying him over.

Something inside her broke at those words, that's what she'd aimed for. To not just be desired but to be wanted for her, not for the heavy promise in her eyes or the way she moved with curves and grace. But because somebody found something inside her that they enjoyed. She couldn't say she wanted him in return, instead she needed him. Without Clint she'd have nothing worth being Natasha for and all the other ghosts in her head knew this. Clint kept her sane, kept her grounded, forced the bad souls away.

Natasha sank into him, let herself completely relax and she knew things would have to change. This couldn't affect their work, people did stupid things after situations like these, she'd watched it happen and always thought it would never happen to her because she'd never let herself get attached to a single person. But she was, slipping under all her morals with the need for him to be there by her side.

She felt his breathing shift as he fell asleep, pressing a kiss where she'd been resting her cheek above his heart and let herself follow suit.

That was until she was rudely awoken by the sound of her cell and growled softly, sore muscles carefully stretching to reach for the suit from the floor, stabbing at the pockets with her fingers until she'd found the cell and could stop the noise.

"Get up Barton, we got the wake up call"

Clint wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but it had been the soundest sleep he’d had in a long time. He woke when he felt her moving, the shrill sound of the alarm filtering through his dreams and banishing them to be instantly forgotten, but he didn’t move at first. He couldn’t grasp the dream, couldn’t remember it, but he knew it had been good, like her presence, her closeness, had kept the nightmares at bay.

Once she’d managed to stop the alarm Clint pulled Natash back under the blanket, wrapping his arms around her again and holding her tightly to him.

“Two more minutes,” he mumbled, trying to hide his smile as he played groggy. When he woke up he woke up quick and was instantly alert and today was no different, though that didn’t mean he had to own up to it.

She instantly groaned at the tight embrace, partly because they had no time for good mornings, and party because she was aching all over.

"They're extracting us in twenty minutes. It's going to take me 19 of those minutes to get dressed, get up" Tasha hit him firmly on the chest, open palmed and smirking only slightly at the sound before she was wiggling out of his grasp and up, taking the blanket wrapped around her shoulders with her and leaving him bar ass naked, laughing quietly to herself even though it was strained and through gritted teeth.

"Fucking hell, I need a hot bath" Her muscles had seized up at some point, making her walk look more like a waddle, party because of the mission before hand and partly due to the extra curricular activities afterwards. Not that she'd admit that.

Staggering over to an overly large rucksack, blessing whoever had placed it in the safe house. Pulling items of clothing out, throwing him a pair of jeans, a shirt and the most outrageous pair of boxers in the bag, grinning to him over her shoulder.

"Get dressed Hawk ass."

Clint struggled half-heartedly for a moment, protesting when she hit him, before finally letting her go. If she really wanted to get up, which she seemed to, then he knew he couldn’t stop her. Besides, expediency seemed to be an issue if they only had twenty minutes. Fraternization wasn’t looked upon very favourably at SHIELD. It happened, and if it was casual a blind eye could be turned so long as it didn’t affect their work, but if it was outright discovered there would be protocols to follow.

Folding his hands behind his head even as Natasha stole the blanket, Clint was far from shy, that was for sure, and he watched her openly as she moved about, raising his eyebrows and smirking at how she was walking.

“Looking a little... unsteady there, Romanoff,” he said, choosing a word that was least likely to get him hit, though the implication was still there. Catching the clothing she threw at him, he slowly forced himself to sit up. “Hawk ass? Really?”

Pulling the shirt over his head, he winced slightly as the material slid along his back, catching on the marks left by her nails.

Shoulders stiffened, eyebrow raising even though she kept her back to him, finally finding herself some clothes. "Fuck off Barton" She mumbled, groaning at her unsteady legs. Half tempted to throw something at him, eyes even lingered on a nearby ornament but decided against it, for one it would have hurt and two she didn't fancy stretching that far to get it, considering he muscles were already screaming at her to just lay back down.

She ended up sitting on the floor to pull her underwear up her legs, thankful for a moments rest but wincing against as she dumped the blanket and attempted to stretch to put on a bra, finally giving up and tossing it into the bag. Finally dragging a vest on and laying back to pull jeans slowly up her legs, smirking at his wincing from her position.

"Don't you like it? I found it fitting." She stretched, half rolling onto her front, trying to stop her leg muscles from cramping. "Ask me what my favorite colour is." Black, they both knew she liked black, it was a question she could lie to, a question they both knew the answer to but hell, she was praying that this thing had gone away by now.

“Ooh, touchy. One would almost think you didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he teased her. It was amusing to watch her struggle into the clothing, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the view as she squirmed about, trying to cover up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stepped into the boxers before getting to his feet and pulling them up the rest of the way.

“Hey, I can’t blame you for having a fascination with my ass,” he replied, making sure he had his back to her when he bent over to pull the jeans on over his feet. Nothing like giving her a good view, he was accommodating like that. Zipping up the fly and fastening the button, he turned to look back at her, taking a second to click in to the sudden change of topic. For a brief moment he had forgotten what had started all this in the first place.

“What’s your favourite colour?” he obliged, Amusement fading, he regarded her with pure curiosity and anticipation.

Eyes rolled, not even entertaining him with a response although it made the corners of her lips twitch into a smile.

She watched him carefully from her position on the floor, arms folded, chin balanced on them. Even as he bent over doing a reverse strip tease and showing off just how good his ass was she smirked wider, shrugging and wincing at the muscles in her shoulders. "Thanks for the show" She mused softly.

She didn't brace herself for the question, simply waited to see if that urge would rise, she bit her already ruined lip, "Pink". Eyes went wide, smirking to herself before she couldn't help the laugh leaving her lips. "God that felt so good".

The Compulsive Truth Telling Meme.

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

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)