bakerstreet | The Morning After Meme

“Mmhm, and I’m glad I did. Certainly gives me something to think about next time I end up in one of these rooms all by myself...” Natasha replied.

One simple thing she enjoyed about Clint that she had never admitted to was his laugh. It was unique and free, and often they didn’t encounter much in the daily grind that was something to laugh over.

“My world view is entirely shattered,” she continued in a complete deadpan voice. Approaching the bed she climbed back on it on all fours first before flopping over to her back and stretching her arms up over her head to adjust the pillows. “And I thought I knew you so well.”

"Well if I'd known you didn't realize..." He shook his head, "No, I probably still would have dropped that bombshell, actually. I was going to say I wouldn't have, but nah, I totally would have."

He just smiled as he watched her re-adjust herself, head tilted, looking just a little blissed. He did shake himself out of it a moment later, however, padding over to perch on the edge of the bed, scooting just a little closer so that neither of them was going to fall off before smoothing one hand slowly up her thigh, almost petting but not quite.

“I suppose it is good you can still surprise me after all these years,” Natasha replied. Pulling the towel off of her head she tossed it aside and lay back on the pillows and watched his approach. He had a distinctive swagger to his step that made him recognizable even from a great distance, a confidence that many men lacked while not being so overly so that it was annoying. He somehow managed to strike a perfect balance.

“We should probably put a dry bandage on that leg,” she mentioned when he joined her on the bed, his touch slow and gentle. Not to mention her shoulder, though it wasn’t hurting much at the moment, even laying on it, so she didn’t think to mention it.

"Probably should." He said, "Your shoulder, too." He shrugged, fingers sliding back down her thigh again, "Should probably do that before anything else." Not that he made any move to get to the first aid kit just yet, because he was comfortable, and really it wouldn't do much damage to leave the wet ones on a while longer, it was actually kind of soothing at the moment, cool against the torn skin.

His fingers traced along her flank still, half-idle, looping patterns, apparently in no hurry even despite knowing that they really didn't have all day to dawdle.

Of course Clint would remember her injury and make sure to mention it. It was part of the whole ‘partners’ thing, that they look out for each other, usually before they even look out for themselves. “Mmmhmm, probably,” Natasha agreed, but despite their words, he made no move to get fresh bandages and Natasha just snuggled further into wrinkled sheets.

Looking down at the hand he still lightly grazed along her leg, she met his eyes again and raised her eyebrows. “I said teach me patience, not put me to sleep,” she teased.

That earned her another one of his easy, wholehearted smiles, shaking his head, "Are you sure it's not the same thing?" It was a definite tease, however, given as how he shifted his weight again, just a little so that he could keep himself braced while giving that trailing hand a little bit more freedom of movement.

His fingers ran around to the inside of her thigh then, petting still and nudging her legs apart gently as he did so, the movement not-quite subtle and not really meant to be, because she would forever out-subtle him even on her worst days.

Greeted with a smile like that, Natasha could barely hold her own back. “If you can continue this after I’m asleep then I think we need to have a serious discussion about your fetishes,” she said, letting her smile slip finally.

Subtlety certainly wasn’t Clint’s strong suit, he was was a true showman at heart, but Natasha wasn’t interested in being subtle right now. While his hand slid along her thigh she bent the knee of her other leg to the side to give him much easier access.

He gave another warm laugh at that, he couldn't not, and leaned in to press a kiss to her leg, just above her knee, since that was what he could reach in his current position.

His fingers, however, moved higher so that he could run the backs of his knuckles up along her folds. He didn't quite push her open, not yet, he was still testing and cataloging reactions.

Natasha’s grin widened at his laugh. It was kind of amazing how they could go from desperate and rough, pumped up on adrenaline and grateful to be alive last night, to slow and teasing and completely relaxed in the course of only a few hours, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain. Sometimes it was even better like this, when they could just take their time and enjoy each other... as long as he didn’t take too much time.

Her breath hitched slightly when he ran just his knuckles over her, already sensitive from the promising touches and her own imagination in the shower. Grabbing a spare pillow she pulled it over under her head as well to prop herself up a little better so she could watch him.

That just made him smile again, one brow arching though he didn't bother saying anything, since they both knew the only thing he'd say was along the lines of not realizing that she liked to watch.

So he kept quiet, fingers running up along her once more before lifting away, only to repeat the process, finally running the pad of his thumb up over her clit once his fingers had lifted away. He had to admit, he genuinely enjoyed these encounters, partly because they were so few and far between, but that just made them all the better in his opinion.

Natasha noted the look on his face and knew exactly what he was thinking. For her part she simply arched her brow right back at him, though the expression that accompanied it was decidedly more wicked. Of course he was the one in control here, though only because she allowed him to be. Sometimes she enjoyed just giving herself over to him, and she figured he enjoyed the challenge as he always seemed to go about it with great enthusiasm.

Drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth as his fingers moved with agonizingly slow precisions, her lids lowered so she was watching him through hooded eyes. She wanted to buck into his hand, increase the pressure and the contact, but as much as he might see this as a challenge of seeing how far he could push her, it was even more so for her to see how long she could last before her patience ran out and she took over dominance.

Having her resist was part of the fun, really, because he could tell just by where she held her tension what it was she wanted to do, just the same as he knew the game was to see whose patience would win out.

Most of the time it was his, but not always.

His smile just spread as he shifted his weight again, settling himself that much more comfortably, preparing himself for the long haul and freeing his other hand as well, resuming stroking along the inside of her thigh with that one as he continued the half-teasing pattern of only upward strokes with the backs of his fingers, thumb grazing her clit on every third or fourth pass.

It didn't take long before he was actually parting her lips as he did so, movements a little firmer and a little faster, though still with the same steady rhythm.

He was just teasing her with his agonizingly slow and gentle attention, but god he was good at it. She thought of goading him, throwing some comment out in an attempt to push him, but before she could think of any words he increased the pressure and the tempo and all she managed was a moan before her head fell back to the pillows.

It took all of her willpower not to squirm, to keep her hands to herself and just let him work, but even so it wasn’t like he couldn’t tell how turned on she was. She was breathing a little more rapidly now, and she could feel herself grow wet under his hands.

He really did enjoy being able to pull those reactions from her, the totally honest, reflexive ones, and he couldn't help but smile a little further when she was the one who broke eye contact. Another upward stroke of his fingers before he switched tactics, just rocking the backs of his first and second knuckle of his first two fingers gently back and forth, her clit squarely between them.

In contrast to the petting, it was a movement that only lasted briefly before he was turning his hand over to slip those two fingers into her, thumb taking over circling against her clit.

Her hips jerked unconsciously when he switched up his style, but it didn’t last long before he finally slid his fingers inside her, though that didn’t mean he let up on his other ministrations. Her muscles tightened around him a moment before relaxing again, and she had to bite back another noise of pleasure, not willing to let him win that easy, even though she was pretty sure he already had.

No loss would ever be as sweet.

Still, she had to at least try to hold off, and while she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t try to guide him or hurry him along in any way, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to at least throw him off, if even a little. Running one hand over her stomach, she slid it slowly up her body and over one breast, teasing herself as she did; the moan she let out this time was very deliberate. She knew it took a lot to distract Hawkeye and throw him off his game, but it was worth a shot. Just laying back and letting someone pay her all the attention, to attentively give her pleasure instead of pushing for it for himself, wasn’t something Natasha was used to, and it was difficult for her to just accept it and give up control.

"Oh now who's the tease?" He said, voice little more than a murmur. Honestly he was amused by the tactic, since it meant that she was more effected than she let on, and while that should have made him just a little cocky, it didn't, not as such.

It was obvious that he wasn't unaffected by her, but he enjoyed what he was doing, and that was enough for the time being. He turned his head to press a kiss against her thigh, because he could and because it was right there. He sighed then, shaking his head, "God you're gorgeous." His fingers hadn't stopped moving, not exactly pumping into her, and not exactly petting, but somewhere between the two, thumb still sweeping almost idly back and forth.

The tactic hadn’t been completely counterproductive, but it still seemed to be having more of an effect on her than on him and she gave up with a frustrated sigh, dropping her hands back to her sides. The motions of his fingers were driving her crazy; hard and fast and deep enough to leave her panting and just short of writhing beneath him, but not quite hard enough or fast enough or deep enough to push her over the edge. She wanted to grind herself into his hand, to thread her fingers into his hair and pull it, and she was so close to giving up the challenge and doing just that.

His quiet words then gave her pause and for a moment the need to make it rough and fast waned. Many men had said the same words to her in her life and she certainly knew the effect her looks had on people. It wasn’t a compliment she often enjoyed, but coming from Clint’s lips it was different somehow, different because he knew her, knew the ugliness of her past and how it had shaped her soul.

Raising her head from the pillow again so she could look down at him she couldn’t seem to say what she probably should have said in this moment. Her voice was throaty with desire and arousal when she spoke, saying instead “Well, you are looking at me from my best side.”

He wouldn't ever claim to know everything about her, but he knew enough -the same as she did about him- and he accepted it. Of course, he also knew that she didn't tend to like compliments, especially ones about her looks, which was why he was happy enough to turn the comment over into a joke at her response.

He just grinned, "Is that what it is? Mm, I'll have to remember that next time you're kicking my ass on the mat." Not that she did, often, but there were reasons he was the only one who would willingly spar with her any more.

His fingers hadn't stopped moving, and he could practically see the tension in her belly and her thighs, which was all part of the fun as far as he was concerned. Whatever could be said of guitarists and strong hands was equally true of archers, as evidenced by the fact that he hadn't stopped moving yet and had only slowed down again when she'd relaxed once more.

Reading each other, knowing the tells and what made the other uncomfortable, was something they had started learning fairly early on in their partnership, something they still found themselves learning even now. Natasha didn’t have to accept the compliment graciously and Clint didn’t push it; it just existed, a truth she knew but appreciated more from him than anyone, and something he felt the need to say once in a while when he really felt it. It was how they worked and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Mm, well, it’s harder to see with my thighs wrapped around your head,” she replied, her eyes closing as she fell back to the pillow again. She didn’t use her thigh hold on him often, had to keep a few moves seldom used so he didn’t learn all her tricks, though there were times she tried it that she had the feeling he could have avoided it if he’d wanted to.

Bending her knee she moved her hips just subtly against him. It was getting too damn hard to just lay there and not participate, no matter how much she was enjoying herself.

"That's a very good point." He agreed, voice having dipped to a comfortable, almost lazy murmur. He enjoyed those subtle little movements, they were the best proof that he was doing what he'd set out to do.

He smiled, pressing another gentle kiss to the inside of her thigh, above her knee, before resting his head there a moment later, slowly ramping up the speed of his movements again, mostly just to see how she reacted. Sure, it was an exercise in patience, but that didn't mean things had to be boring. And besides, he thoroughly enjoyed watching her reactions.

“Mmm,” was the only answer he got. In moments like these, when she felt her pulse pounding and her body starting to tremble, even his voice when he spoke so low sent a thrill up her spine.

The kiss made her shiver, but when he started to work her faster again all determination to ‘win’ this round went right out the window. The decision wasn’t conscious and it seemed like her back arched of its own accord, her hand sliding down to bury fingers in his hair. She certainly hadn’t meant to let his name slip from her lips when she opened them.

It was really difficult not to let things like that go right to his ego, but sometimes he managed. Sometimes.

He tilted his head up into her fingers, just a little, an easy angle as he debated for a moment if he wanted to change tactics. Which he did shortly thereafter, shifting his weight again so that he could lean forward, tongue taking over where his thumb had been, the pressure not quite as steady, but the change in friction likely made up the difference.

Natasha smiled a little when he leaned into her touch, something so simple considering what he was doing to her at the moment, but somehow very endearing. Drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth, she pressed her shoulders back into the mattress while trying to keep from pushing her hips up against him again.

She was practically panting now and when he removed his thumb she almost vocally protested but somehow managed to hold back. With her head thrown back on the pillow and her eyes closed she couldn’t see what he was doing though she felt him move; even so she was still unprepared when she felt his tongue, warm and wet, right where she was most sensitive. That was all it took and she lost all semblance of control as her hand tightened, pulling his hair, and her muscles clenched around his fingers.

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.

Her thighs pressed against the sides of his head as she hit her climax, her sounds of pleasure muted but certainly not inaudible. Her whole body shook and trembled with her release but he wasn’t through with her, his attention still firm and steady until she wasn’t sure anymore if what she was experiencing was one long, drawn out orgasm or if he had already pushed her to a second one.

“Clint...” she practically whimpered his name, a fact she would deny with every fibre of her being. Her fingers tightened in his hair again but her muscles didn’t seem to want to respond even if she could decide whether to pull him away or press him to her harder. Probably better to do the former if she was going to return the favour before they had to get out of here, not to mention regain the ability to move at all.

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