Title: Red in my Ledger
Author: AnitaB
Author's Notes: I own nothing from Marvel's Aventures. No money is made and no infringement is intended. Now, onto the real notes. Black Widow and Hawkeye absolutely need to finally cross the line from coworkers and debts to each other to something much, much more meaningful. And this little future flash fic shows the new way their ledgers and competitiveness feature. Warning: delightfully committed romantic smut ahead. Afterall, I am the queen.
Red in my Ledger
by AnitaB
Chapter 1: In his debt
She couldn't breathe. She was utterly limp, completely boneless and breathless. And it was all his fault. She couldn't breathe and now there was red in her ledger. /Damnit, Clint Barton, you put red in my ledger.\\
Natasha Romanoff managed to drag up just enough muscle control to lift her head and look down her body at her partner and husband. He rested his cheek on her very upper thigh and smiled up at her with enough pride in his eyes to make her hands clench tighter against the headboard. He knew he'd put red in her ledger.
And so damn well, too. Those fingers, those lips, that agile tongue… he knew exactly what he could do to her, delighted in taking her apart beneath him. He fucking loved making her shatter in his arms. The second Clint "Hawkeye" Barton laid a hand on her skin, he had her completely at his mercy. The only thing that made the whole situation at all okay was that Natasha had just as much power over him. And it was more than time to show him again. /Just wait for it, love, I'll get you back for this. I'll wipe my ledger clean. Just as soon as I can breathe. \\
The fingers still buried inside her curled just a little as they withdrew, sending a shiver of aftershock through all her nerves. It was time to act, right now, or she was going to be further in the red by the smile on those lips. Breathing would just have to wait. His Nat forced her fingers to work, fisting them in his hair to force his lips off the skin of her hip. "It's my turn, get the hell up here."
"What if I'm not done with my turn yet? What if I want more of you, Nat?" Strong fingers curved up the inside of her thigh, very, very slowly dragging along her skin. So slowly it was driving her mad. Clint was trying to take control, to make her shatter in his arms again with just the strong heat of his hands and the low, hungry tone in his voice. And he could do it too. Clint was… way too good at reading her, giving her so much more than she'd ever believed possible. /Be strong, Natasha, don't let him win, not right now.\\
She shifted under him, but not to invite that wandering hand closer. Natasha barely caught his wrist before those fingers managed to change her mind. Trapping those distracting fingers between her own, she forced well-trained muscles into action. Step one, get Clint and his dangerous smile away from her hips. Step two, get those strong, dangerous hands contained. Natasha met his smile with one of her own once he found himself flat on his back with an assassin sitting across his waist and leaning on his hands. They did both so enjoy the dangerous situations. "I don't really think you're getting that much input on the action in the next few minutes, Clint." She watched his eyes drop to her lips and felt her smile widen. Hawkeye wasn't above trying to get what he wanted even like this. The fact that she was desperate for his kiss was only in tune with their relationship. She had always found them to be on the same page.
There was nothing in this world or any other that Natasha Romanoff ever wanted more than Clint Barton's kiss. And he knew it, dragging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip with a low, hungry sound. "Natasha…"
/Damn you, Clint.\\ She cursed herself for her weakness even as she helplessly leaned down to get lost in his kiss. Tasting herself on his lips only made her deepen the kiss with a groan. Nothing ever felt better than his arms around her, his heart beating against her own. Nothing made her feel safer or, Damnit, more loved than the simple stroke of his fingers against her skin. /Clint,\\
He was touching her like that now. One of his hands had managed to escape her grip, cupping the line of her jaw to let him deepen the kiss. Her hands clenched against his shoulders, loving the smooth strength of his skin against her fingers. But that contact made the faint scratch of his pants at her inner thighs even more annoying. Clint wasn't even naked. He'd stripped her bare, brought her to orgasm with agile fingers and a skilled mouth, and through it all, he'd only lost his shirt. /Time to get you naked, Clint. Right the hell now.\\
"Hands up, now!" It took every ounce of her not inconsiderable self control to jerk herself away from his kiss, from the warm strength of the arms that were closing around her. But, Damnit, Clint needed to be naked. She needed him completely bare and at her mercy, right the hell now. Natasha barely managed to make her body stayed crouched over his knees when he reached for her with one strong hand. /Damnit, Clint.\\ "Lock those fingers on our headboard right now or I am climbing out of this bed."
"Nat, please…" Those hands were still in play and they needed to be contained.
"No, Clint." Natasha decided to fight fire with fire. Trailing her fingertips down the zipper of his black combat pants, she smiled at the involuntary arch of his hips into her touch. That sound on his lips tested her restraint, just liked the instant heat in his eyes. She loved just how hard he was, how much he always wanted her. "I owe you one, and I always pay my debts." Natasha let herself go, just a little, and brushed her lips back and forth just above his belt buckle. "Hold onto the headboard." A light, little flick of her tongue against his skin seemed to push him over an edge. Strong hands clenched hard enough on the bars above his head to flex and strain every muscle in his body. "That's my good boy. Hold on tight for me." Nothing in this world or any other could possibly be as perfect as this man laying under her hands with his heart in his eyes. Natasha tried to catch her breath as her fingers fought with his belt, button and zipper. He arched up to help her drag the last of his clothes down the lean strength of his legs.
This, right here on their bed, was the only heaven she ever wanted to earn. Every single inch of him was bare and begging for her touch. And there was never any chance in hell of her resisting the heat of him. "Please, baby. I need to feel you. Every inch of you against every inch of me. Please, Nat."
Especially when he wanted it just as badly as she did. "Hold me, Clint, hold me tight." It became impossible to breathe when his arms finally closed around her, when his heat finally wrapped around every single inch of her body. Strong hands tugged her into contact with even more of his skin in the instant before his lips found hers again. This, this was heaven, more heaven than an assassin like her could ever become worthy of. But that didn't mean that she was giving up even the tiniest bit of it.
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