That was perfect, she was perfect, and Clint? Clint was just glad that he got to enjoy the ride. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, easy and content. He was propping himself up on one hand, lips closed over the peak of her mound as his tongue continued those firm little back and forth flicks, fingers curling against her each time, intent on drawing it out for as long as she'd let him, or until his supporting arm gave out, either way.