bakerstreet | The Morning After Meme

“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.

Even despite the pull at his hair, it was another few moments before he finally lifted his head, trying his damnedest not to grin, both brows arching even as he withdrew his fingers, settling back to an even, gentle stroking along her folds, "Yes? Did you need something?"

He wasn't about to call her out in the whimper, for one thing he'd only barely heard it himself, and he definitely wasn't complaining about that.

By the time he finally finished she lay relaxed and boneless, though her body still trembled. He returned to the gentle petting from before and, god, there was just no way to describe how good she felt in that moment. Even when she raised her head to attempt to glare at him for his words she could seem to quite manage it; a glare isn’t very effective when accompanied by a lazy, satisfied smile.

“I think you’ve taken care of my needs pretty well,” Natasha replied, her voice unintentionally husky. “So, has my patience level rating gone up?”

Stroking her fingers softly through his hair, she scratched her nails just lightly over his scalp before giving his hair just the slightest tug, silently urging him to move up and join her against the pillows.

He grumbled contentedly at the nails and at the tug of his hair, tilting his head up into it again, just like he had the first time. He did stretch out beside her, though, and pressed a kiss to the slope of her shoulder before propping his head up on one hand, "Mm, I'd say so," He agreed with a nod and another crooked smile, "I mean, you didn't knock me on my back to take over yourself once."

He shrugged, fingers tracing an idle, looping pattern along her side, "I mean, I wouldn't have objected if you did, but that's beside the point." He enjoyed these moments, knowing that he was one of a very small handful of people who got to see her relax like this.

Natasha smiled warmly at him when he laid down beside her, her expression uncommonly warm and affectionate. It was hard not to feel that way right now, and she continued to run her fingers through his hair, amused at how he leaned into her like a pet.

“Of course you wouldn’t have objected,” she said. “It would have proven you right.”

Grinning at him, it took a turn for the wicked just before she tackled him over onto his back and stretched out along his body, a movement that took a little more effort than it should have, but her body wasn’t quite yet ready to listen to her again. Dropping a kiss to his chest, she folded her hands over his heart and rested her chin on them.

“But you know, since I had permission...” And since she had already proven her point, sort of, then this was totally acceptable.

He just laughed, letting himself be tumbled, not quite boneless, but close enough, relaxed and at ease. He folded one hand behind his head, propping himself up at just enough of an angle so that he could actually focus on her face even as his other hand swept through her hair, sweeping it all together, "Not the only reason I wouldn't have objected, but pretty close to the top, sure."

His brows both arched, "Comfortable?" He didn't figure he was the best pillow, but she'd never really complained before except for once, but that had been forced close quarters and his elbow had been pinned between them, uncomfortable for both of them.

Her hair was still damp, the pillow she had just left sodden, but considering the state the room was in, not to mention the sheets themselves, a wet pillow was far from anyone’s concern. “Only close to the top?” she replied, raising one eyebrow at him. “And what, exactly, was reason number one?”

Clint was solid, though not without a few endearing soft spots, but he still made a pretty decent pillow. More than anything it was his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing that Natasha enjoyed most in this position, and she would have been content to stay just like that for a while if not for his question. He was asking for it, really.

“Hmm, not quite,” she said before squirming against him, making sure to put the pressure and friction in just the right places. Ducking her head again, she flicked her tongue over one of his nipples before raising her eyes to meet his again. “How about you?” 

He just snorted at the first question, unable to keep from smiling as he replied: "You ask that like you don't already know." The smile just spread further at the squirming, shifting and settling himself a little more solidly as she moved, because it was obvious that he liked that, on top of the fact that he'd thoroughly enjoyed making her come apart the same as he always did.

"Could be more comfortable." He said, giving an easy shrug-and-stretch, "But I'm not complaining."

Natasha put on her most innocent expression, which was actually quite impressive in its believability considering their current positions. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. The expression didn’t last long before a wicked spark returned to her eyes. It was his smile that did it, the reminder that sex could be fun and relaxed, not just a way to scratch an itch. She loved it hard and fast and rough like the night before, but she secretly enjoyed moments like the current on just as much. They made her feel good, and more than just physically.

“More comfortable?” she repeated, rubbing against him again. She could feel his hardness pressing against her stomach, and she had to marvel that he could be clearly aroused yet in no hurry to take care of that. No other man she had ever encountered had that kind of patience. “How so?”

Considering the level of patience he had for practically everything else, patience at a time like this shouldn't have been much of a surprise. His smile just spread at that familiar impish gleam in her eyes, a contented grumble curling free from his throat as she rocked against him again, "Oh, you know, dry pillow would be nice. But this one's good too, it's nice and cool."

The high-energy, room-wrecking, adrenaline-fueled sex had its time and place, really, and that was when they were both still on the tail end of an adrenaline kick and weren't too beat up to enjoy it. But times like this, the playful, even lazy times really were his favorite.

When he smiled like that it was absolutely infectious, and Natasha had to duck her head, pressing her lips to his chest, to hide her own. For a moment she just lay there, listening to the beat of his heart and grateful that they had beat the odds again, that their skills had proved true and that no unforeseen circumstances had popped up, no devastating consequences.

She kissed his chest again, right over his heart, a little softer this time before shaking off the darkness.

“What, you don’t like being wet?” she asked, flattening her tongue against his chest and dragging it upward over his neck and chin, stopping just at his lips. Grinning down at Clint she stole a kiss, and there was something very erotic about the fact that she could taste herself on his tongue.

He'd been about to answer that question, and likely with his usual sarcasm, except for the fact that he was still smiling, when she went and teased him again.

And then there was more kissing, and he definitely wasn't going to argue that, practically purring as he returned it, one hand sliding up along her side, not petting, really, but something similar, just because he couldn't not touch her right then, wanting to keep her close, wanting to make this last. Though, he knew that even his patience would wear thin sooner or later.

Natasha smiled into the kiss as he made a noise very akin to purring. On one hand she wondered why they didn’t do this more often, but on the other she knew they rarely had time for such indulgences. But no, that wasn’t quite right, was it? They could make time more often than they did but it wasn’t something they tended to do. Was it because it would be less special if it happened more often? Or because they were afraid of what it would mean if it did?

She didn’t linger on those thoughts, lowering herself to lay against his chest again, her body only slightly higher than his now. He liked to tease that she had no patience, and that was mostly true, but when she was in control she had a lot more than normal, and it was tempting to see if he was really as relaxed and unhurried as he appeared to be.

Settling down to press her hips flush to his, she lifted slowly, sliding her slit along the length of his erection and making a purring sound of her own as she did so.

He made another lowthroated sound, eyes dipping partway closed at that, fingers pressing just a little more firmly against the spots where they rested. It was a reflexive, spare little movement, just that evidence enough that his own patience was far from infinite.

It would still last a while longer, but not forever, and really not a whole lot longer. Mostly the only thing helping him keep hold of it right at the moment was sheer curiosity as to how long she was planning on teasing.

Any reaction was a victory at this point; he had played her so easily and thoroughly that sometimes it was nice to know he wasn’t always so completely composed.

“I don’t think you mind being wet at all,” she murmured, dipping her tongue into the hollow of his left shoulder as she continued to rock against him.

That got an outright grin and a soft laugh, fingers sliding up to curl in the hair at the nape of her neck because he couldn't not move, couldn't not touch her somehow.

"Just don't want to risk catching a cold." He finally managed, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, turning to press a kiss to her temple before letting his head fall back again, "Because you know I'm miserable to deal with when I'm sick."

Just when she thought she had him he relaxed back to the pillows again and she stopped her movements. Of course she could do better, she could pull a full on seduction routine that would have any other man panting, but Clint knew her tricks and, besides... this was Clint. Putting on that mask with him would sully everything, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“You’re terrible,” Natasha replied. Raising her head she looked at him with an exaggerated pout. “All men are babies when they’re sick but you are the worst that I have had to deal with.”

He leaned up to kiss that outthrust lip, smiling crookedly as he settled again, one hand still petting up and back along her thigh, "I think it's because it doesn't happen often, and every time it does I'm convinced I've got some life-threatening disease."

A crooked smile followed, "You'd think I'd figure it out, but nope, never do."

She strained to hold back a smile as he kissed her pouting lip, just barely keeping it contained. Placing her hands on his chest, Natasha pushed herself up to sit, still straddling him.

“Maybe you’re just a drama queen and you thrive on the attention,” she said, reaching her arms up high over her head as she stretched, arching her back in the process and giving him a completely uninhibited view of a few of her best assets.

"Could be that too." He agreed, though he smiled as the hand at her hip slid up along her side to caress her breast, thumb rolling over her nipple in one slow sweep. He wasn't teasing, really, except for the part where he really kind of was, but it was also only fair as far as he was concerned, since she was doing the same thing and they both knew it.

His calloused fingers were always so deliciously rough, and Natasha leaned into his touch. “Or maybe you just like being taken care of every once in a while.” Dragging her nails lightly down his chest and over his abs, she swiveled her hips, rubbing against him. All was fair in love, war, and foreplay... or whatever this was considering all that had gone on before it.

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