This story was inspired by a song I absolutely love, Get Off, by Halestorm. It's incredible, and I've written about it before and had to write about it again using this couple!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the title of the song, only the mistakes.
I get off on you
Getting off on me
Give you what you want
But nothing is for free
It's a give and take
Kind of love we make
When the line is crossed
I get off
I get off
Natasha Romanov sighed as she ran her fingers through her long, dark hair, looking over her shoulder to where her partner was standing, his head bent forward, talking quietly to a shorter, Indonesian man. She kept her expression nonchalant as her gaze shifted over to where there were two other men watching Clint Barton as well. Clint knew that they had eyes on him, but he trusted her to have his back, so he was relaxed, and spoke easily with the dealer. The kid was looking from side to side nervously, before their exchange was over, and then he was pretty much running in the opposite direction and Clint was walking toward the curb, putting up his hand and hailing down a cab. Natasha's eyes slid once more back to the two men, who clearly were more interested in the dealer than in Clint, because they were now following after him. She relaxed and hailed down another cab, giving the address of the hotel that her and Clint were staying at, where he was going.
They took separate elevators upward, Natasha going up to the floor two above where they were staying, and then taking the fire escape back down, pulling the dark wig off her head and shoving it into her bag, so that when she reached her floor, her red hair was swinging against her tanned skin.
"How's it going?" Clint grunted as she walked into the apartment, glancing over at her when she shut the door and pulled off the red leather jacket she was wearing.
"Good, good," she nodded at him. "You weren't followed. They were more interested in your friend that you."
"Yeah, I know," Clint agreed as he looked back down at his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys. "I've got another meeting with him tonight, just outside Blue Lagoon. He's paranoid as hell."
"Well, yeah," Natasha snorted as she came over to his double bed and sat down on the edge, flopping backwards and letting her hands and hair splay above her head. "He's a low end drug dealer who's stumbled into one of the biggest rings in the country. Sam's still on his tail, and then Lizzie is keeping an eye on the men who's following them."
"She going to throw them off his trail?" Clint smirked as he stole another look over at Natasha.
"Undoubtedly," Natasha laughed. "She'll probably have them running around in circles once she's finished them."
"Poor fuckers," Clint stated. He finished off his report, sending it through to Maria Hill to let her know what was happening, and then stretched his arms over his head. Natasha's eyes followed his movements as he stretched, his grey shirt lifting and revealing taunt and toned abdominals that made her mouth water. When he dropped his arms and looked back over at her, she didn't bother to cover up the way she was staring at him, giving him a half smirk that she knew made him a little nervous.
He pretended that the infamous Black Widow didn't bother him, mainly because they were partners and best friends, but he was just as susceptible to her wiles as every other man.
"I'm going to go have a shower," Clint said, nodding over to the bathroom that joined their two rooms together.
"Okay, I'll go after you," Natasha replied. She walked through the bathroom first, to get to her room, and purposefully paused in the separating doorway as he followed her in. He raised his eyebrows at her and she shot him an innocent look.
"Unless you're planning on joining me, I'd advise you to keep walking," he joked with her lightly, but there was something about his eyes that said at least part of his sentence was serious. Natasha just gave him another smirk and continued through to her room. The shower turned on, and a moment later, the door leading to her room closed firmly. She looked at the shut door for a few long moments before turning around and going over to her quick bag, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie to put on after she had her shower. She could hear Clint humming through the wall and she grinned.
He was adamant he didn't sing in the shower, but humming and singing? They were pretty much the same thing.
She ran a brush through her hair and used a make up wipe to start scrubbing at her face. She dropped the stained wipes into the bin just as the shower turned off. After a minute or so, the door leading to her room opened slightly, steam billowing out.
"All yours, Nat," Clint called. Natasha admitted to herself that she skipped a little too quickly over to the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of him before he disappeared back into her room. He was just walking through, a towel wrapped around his waist, and his taunt back muscles on full display. Natasha felt her stomach twist as she skimmed her eyes over her partner, and when he looked back over his shoulder at her, and Natasha just raised her eyebrows appreciatively at him, not bothering to hide the fact she was staring. He quickly turned and walked back to his room, leaving the door wide open. She watched him go, dragging her tongue over her lower lip as she stared after him. The steam was already making her clothes stick to her body, and she tilted her head to the side to look back toward the door toward Clint's room. She looked into the mirror, and could see that he was at the far end of his room, but he was looking directly at her.
Natasha turned around and turned the shower back on. Then she slowly turned to look back toward the mirror, using her forearm to wipe away the mist so that her voyeur had a better view of her. He was still watching her, his hand clenched around the knot that was holding his tie up around his waist, and Natasha blatantly met his eyes as she reached for the hem of her shirt. She pulled it over her head and dropped it to the ground, and then she pushed down her sweatpants, standing there in just her bra and underwear. Clint was still watching, with an intensity that made her hot in all the right places. She stared at him in the reflection, her red hair hanging in front of her face, before reaching behind her to unhook her bra.
When she looked back up, he wasn't in the reflection anymore.
It was two days later that they finally brought the dealer down. Clint and Natasha had been on the darker side of France's streets for almost a month now, trying to find out who this guy was that was selling drugs to people that had some kind of mind control substance in it. It had made Clint a little nervous, seeing people who were going through the same kind of thing that he had had to go through back in New York, under Loki's influence, but he had kept it together.
He had probably only been able to keep it together because he was with Natasha, though.
They should have flown back straight away, on the quinjet that Steve and Wanda had taken the dealer back on, but Coulsen had told them that they could use a couple of days off. They were probably the two agents who were the most active in the field; they liked the action and they liked to be busy.
The few days off, though, would be nice.
"Á votre santé," Natasha said as they clinked their glasses together and then threw back the vodka. It was the expensive stuff, from the top shelf, but hell, it was all going on SHIELD's tab. Natasha handled her liquor better than Clint, and even though he was trying his best to keep up, she was already three drinks up on him. It was almost two in the morning before they stumbled back to their hotel. Clint had his arm around Natasha's waist and her arm was thrown over his shoulders, and their heads were ducked close to each others as they spoke and laughed between them. They reached their adjoining rooms, stopping at Natasha's room and falling inside.
"You make a man feel pretty damn inferior, Nat," Clint joked as she almost carried him over to the bed and dumped him down. He fell backwards, bouncing once before settling back down on the mattress, watching as she walked over to the minibar. "Shit, girl, you still going?"
"It's a night cap!" Natasha protested with a laugh as she pulled out one of the tiny, overpriced bottles.
"Well I can't have anymore," Clint said as he watched her take the top off the bottle. Natasha just shrugged before emptying to the bottle into her mouth, wincing as it burnt down her throat and then shooting a grin over to him. His whole body was aware of her every movement, as she dropped the bottle into the bin and then took a couple of steps in his direction.
"You're fucked," she stated as she looked him up and down.
"Yeah, well, I can't really say that I drink all that often for fun," Clint admitted, letting out a breath through his nose. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the way his body sunk into the mattress—her bed seemed so much softer than his own, and it smelt so much better too. "I think I'm going to sleep right here tonight," he said decidedly.
"Oh really?" Natasha teased and he cracked one eye open to look over at her. She was standing right in front of him. "And where am I supposed to sleep?" Clint tilted his head lazily to the side before grinning drunkenly at her and patting the bed next to him.
"Right here," he told her. Natasha laughed, but then her grin faded to a smile and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and nodded once. Suddenly, Clint realized that this was becoming a whole lot more real as her fingers went to the buttons of her shirt. He tried to focus on her, although she was a little blurred, and his eyes followed her fingers down, until she was dropping her shirt to the ground, standing there in just her bra and jeans.
"You going to sleep fully clothed?" Natasha asked in a sultry tone. Or at least, when Clint processed the words, they sounded sultry. Maybe he was just imagining it because he was drunk and he wanted her to sultry. He toed off his shoes, and struggled with the buttons on his own shirt. Natasha watched him as he managed to get out of his shirt and drop it onto the floor. She watched him from underneath heavy eyelids as his torso was exposed to her.
She had seen him half naked a hundred times.
But it had never been in this kind of circumstance.
He didn't make an attempt to take off his pants, and that was probably a good thing. Natasha had a lot of self-control, but she had already had a lot to drink, and she had feelings for her partner, so it wouldn't be a stretch that if he got almost naked in bed next to her, she would possibly jump him.
Highly likely.
She took off her own jeans, unzipping them and dropping them to join her shirt. She saw the flash in Clint's eyes. She walked over to the door where the light switch was and looked over her shoulder just in time to see Clint's eyes glued to her ass, which was looking pretty close to perfect in a pair of bikini cut, light blue underwear. She flicked off the light and headed back over to the bed. There was some shuffling around, before they were both under the covers. For a moment, they stayed almost absolutely still on their opposite sides of the mattress, and then Clint rolled onto his side, attempting to make the movement look casual. Natasha didn't say anything, in fact she turned so that she was on her side as well, her back to him, and when he pulled his knees up slightly, his thighs came in touch with the back of her legs.
"Night, Nat," Clint murmured.
"Night, Clint," she mumbled back, a small smile on her face as she felt his warm hand rest on her hip.
When Clint woke up, his eyes immediately drawn to the red head that was nestled on the pillow next to him. He swallowed hard, his mouth feeling dry and like it was filled with cotton wool, but he didn't want to move and disrupt the moment. It seemed as though his partner and fellow assassin was still asleep, and he took in a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. The ever so slight movement made his body move upward, and he hissed when he realized how close they were.
Natasha's curved, delicious, perfect ass was right in his lap. As in, his morning arousal was pressed right up against her and every breath she took in made her move ever so slightly against him.
It was enough to make a man go crazy.
And then she was stretching, pushing out her ass even more, arching her back and reaching her arms over her head, and Clint was pretty sure if he died right now, he would be completely okay with that. Natasha let out a whine from the back of her throat and then settled back down, rubbing against herself once more, almost as though purposefully teasing him, before she rolled onto her back and looked over at him.
"Morning," she breathed.
"Morning," he managed to grunt back.
"Is this what normal people do on Saturday?" Natasha asked as she tried to twist her neck backwards to look at the large window behind her bed.
"Maybe," Clint looked over to the clock that was on the wall opposite the bed. "But I think that they wake up a little later on."
"What's the time?" Natasha asked, shifting her weight in the bed again, her ass pressing against his lap one last time before he realized that he couldn't do it anymore and he rolled away from her, and out of bed. She looked over at him quizzically and he just walked straight toward the bathroom, his arm artfully placed in front of his body to stop her from being able to see his morning erection. "You okay?" She called after him.
"I'm fine!" Clint called back, his voice a little strained as he kicked the bathroom door shut. Natasha's faux look of concern dropped and she smirked.
She was one of the most observant people on the planet.
She knew that Clint was hard.
And she hadn't been asleep when she had stretched, her body woke her up at five thirty like clock work every morning, and he had let out a strangled whine from the back of his throat.
When Clint came back into the room, he had a pair of sweatpants on, slung low on his narrow hips. Even though Natasha knew plain as day that he was insanely aroused over her, in that moment, looking over at her shirtless partner, she felt like the tables had completely turned. Yeah, she was completely head over heels for him, and she knew that he was one of the most beautiful specimens around. However she felt like a gaping, clueless school girl who was just realizing how a handsome boy could make her feel between her legs.
"You good, Nat?" Clint actually looked a little worried, and she realized he had said her name a couple of times.
"I'm good," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.
"We're not due to be on the quinjet until five tonight. Is there anything that you wanted to do today?" He asked. Natasha dragged her eyes away from Clint's well formed and scarred torso and tried to think of something else.
"We could go for a jog?" She attempted.
"Or to the gym? I'm sure we'll be able to find one," Clint offered.
"We are terrible holidaying people," Natasha concluded.
"Don't tell Coulsen that," he smirked at her. "I like them to think that the only reason we don't go on holiday is because we're always working for them. It's nice to have the upper hand." Natasha grinned back at him and pushed back the covers. Clint quickly diverted his eyes. "I'm gonna go and get dressed. Meet outside in ten minutes?"
"Sounds like a plan," Natasha nodded.
It was almost three weeks later before they were back on a mission together. As soon as they had gotten back to base, Clint had been flown back out of the country with Sam Wilson and Steve. Natasha had two days down time, which she spent most of the time sparring with Maria Hill and in the Ops room, keeping up to date with the current mission Clint was on, as well as the one the Maximoff twins were out on. Then she had to go and help Tony Stark, which she mainly viewed as glorified baby-sitting, but sometimes he was a good time.
Now they were back together, at a charity ball in New York. Clint guessed he was probably the only one brave enough to tell Natasha that she looked beautiful—the other agents would be too afraid of her snapping their necks.
But she did.
She looked gorgeous.
Maria had her dressed up in a deep red gown, slits going up each side of the leg, the back only held together with a couple of ties so that her ivory skin was practically completely on display. Her hair had grown a few inches over the past few months, and it hung just a little past her shoulders, and every time she tilted her head to the side, it swung like a glossy curtain. Clint knew that he had to pretend that he had nothing to do with her, but he couldn't help it—he was pretty sure that every man had his eyes glued to his partner anyway. He would be the odd one out if he wasn't looking at her.
Her focus was all on the Chief of Police, who apparently had quite a bit to do with a couple of men who ran an Import/Export business. Recently, he had been sending out his officers to bring in items from customs, and the packages were looking more and more suspicious. Especially when they started coming into the country in small suitcases that had bio-hazard warning stamped on the front.
This was the worst part of Natasha's job, it was the thing she hated the most. Clint knew that. Despite how effective she was, she hated using her body to get the information they needed. She didn't mind flirting a little, a heated touch here and there or the brush of her breasts against his arms, but she hated when she had to kiss them, let them grope her.
Clint hated it as well.
Recently, she had found a new coping mechanism though.
Clint wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing.
She concentrated on him.
Whether it was staring directly at him in person, or if it was to the security camera that he was watching her through. Tonight, it was in person. The Chief pulled her away from the ball, down toward the kitchen area so that they could have some privacy. Natasha's stomach was curling viciously as he slobbered on her neck, and her eyes drifted down the hall toward where Clint was hiding in the doorway a few metres away. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were sad, but her face was relaxed when it found him.
Clint's eyes were narrow.
He tried to keep his head focussed on the task at hand, but the fact that Natasha was staring at him, looking at him like he was the anchor saving her from drowning, just made him want to storm down the hall and throw the Chief against the wall and punch him until his face was bloody and his fists were raw.
The older man spun her around, so that her back was pressed against his chest. He was kissing her neck and pawing at her ass and sides. Natasha was staring ahead blankly, moving her body in a way that made him think she was interested in him, but her face clearly saying the opposite. She tilted her head to the side as he whispered something in her ear, and Clint almost let out a laugh when he saw her roll her eyes at whatever it was he was saying to her. But then her eyes lifted, looking over at her partner, pulling the corner of her full, lower lip into her mouth. Clint's stomach turned over, his eyes barely able to leave her lips as her tongue slipped out and dragged over her lips.
The things that woman could make him think, just by looking at her luscious mouth.
It was only a matter of seconds before the Chief was pulling her into a room, thinking that he was getting lucky with the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. But the room was empty and dark by design, and as soon as they were insane and away from the eyes of any of the guests or wait staff for the charity event. Clint quickly followed them, and the Chief's eyes went wide as Natasha suddenly stepped away from him, twisting his arm behind his back while the other arm banded around his chest.
"What's going on?" He managed to stutter out.
"What's going on is that you were trying to get into the pants of my best friend, and you're really not her type," Clint said, his voice even. "But we knew that you would go for her," he shot a look over the mans shoulder toward Natasha, who smirked back at him, looking a whole lot more comfortable in this position, one arm wrapped around his neck. "And now we can have a little chat about your friends in the Import/Export business." The Chiefs eyes went wide and he attempted to break away from Natasha, but the assassin didn't have any problem with restraining him. She spun him around, and pushed him into a chair. The slits in her dress might have been placed there to make her endless legs look even more alluring, but a big part of the reason Natasha wore dresses like that were because it made it easier for her to move.
Or more accurately, to fight.
The Chief tried to lunge out forward and Natasha easily kicked out at him, forcing him back into his seat and then lifting her foot and bracing the heel of her shoe between his leg, the six inch spike dangerously close to the place he held most dear.
It wasn't hard to get the information they needed out of him.
Natasha could be pretty convincing when she wanted to be.
Pretty scary as well.
"Would you have actually crushed his balls?" Clint gasped out, his head locked between his partners thighs.
"Of course," Natasha replied, her own voice strained from the foot that Clint had hooked there. For a moment, they were stuck in stale mate, but then Clint played dirty, pinching at the soft skin of her inner thigh and making her let out a breathy squeal before rolling away from him. Clint took advantage of that and lunged for her, but as usual, Natasha was too quick.
He would never win against her in hand to hand combat, but she was his partner, which meant he was automatically her sparring partner.
"That's really cold, Nat," Clint winced at her and she just grinned.
"You should know that I'll go all out to get the answers we need," she smirked back at him. The sweat had dampened her hair and a few strands had fallen out of the tight ponytail she had it pulled back in. Her cheeks were a ruddy red and her eyes were glowing, and this was the most beautiful Clint thought she ever was. When she was sweaty, and grinning at him, and gnawing down on her lower lip in concentration.
God, if he could take a picture of her like this without him getting his fingers sliced off, he would, and he would frame it.
The second he spent appreciating her was enough for her to lunge forward and take him down, easily pinning him and then grinning down when he slapped his hand three times on the training mats they were on. She was straddling him, and for a moment, Clint wondered if she was going to keep that position, even though he had given up. She slid her body up his, purposefully pressing her crotch harder against his for a split second before she was on her feet and holding out a hand to help him up.
"I think I'm done for the day," Clint admitted.
"Yeah," Natasha nodded as they walked over to their water bottles. Her hand came up to rub at her shoulder, digging her fingers into the muscle and rub it firmly. Clint looked over at her, noting the way she winced and rolled her shoulder.
"You want me to come by your room after a shower? I could give you a rub down?" He asked. The intention was for it to be a completely innocent question, but as soon as he said it, Natasha's eyebrows shot up. She wiggled them at him, that sexy half smirk of hers teasing him and he let out a short laugh. "Your shoulder," he emphasized.
"That'd be good," Natasha told him, although she was still giving him the sultry look from under her thick eyelashes.
Or maybe he was just imagining it.
Sometimes he really wasn't sure.
They parted ways at the corridor, heading to their separate rooms. Clint hurried through his shower, barely stepping inside for two minutes before getting back out and drying himself down with a towel. He got into a pair of sweatpants and an old flannel button down shirt, the elbows so soft they were almost worn right through. Then he walked down the hallway to Natasha's room and knocked against the door.
"Come in," came her voice from inside. He took in a deep breath and opened the door. Natasha was sitting on her bed...Wrapped only in a towel.
"Oh, I, uh," Clint snapped his jaw shut. Natasha tilted her head to the side, her damp hair falling over her shoulder as she blinked at him almost innocently. Almost. He could see her eyes dancing at him between those thick eyelashes as she sat down on the seat in the corner of the room. The towel hitched up a couple of inches around her long, smooth legs, and Clint had to take in a harsh breath.
"So?" Natasha asked.
"So...What?"
"Are you going to massage my shoulders, or what?" Her voice was amused, and Clint wondered how many times he had managed to do this without coming off like a complete idiot. He didn't know what was wrong with him today. There was even this time in Prague where he was undercover as a masseuse and the only time that they could communicate was when she came in for a massage, and she would only have this tiny sheet covering her.
He had managed to keep it together then.
How? He had no clue. Because he could definitely use some of that strength now.
"Clint?"
"Oh, right," Clint walked over to her, standing behind the chair. Natasha wiggled around a little bit, to get more comfortable, straightening her back. He inhaled through his nose and reached out to gently push her hair away from the nape of her neck. The smell of whatever body wash she used surrounded him, and he furrowed his eyebrows to concentrate on the task at hand.
"It's the left one," she said helpfully.
"No problem," Clint told her as he spread one hand over her left shoulder. He dug his fingers into the muscle and then almost died when she let out a long moan. He found his cock reacting to her noises as he continued to massage her shoulder. His hands dipped further down, beginning to rub her arm as well. As his hands moved in circles, back up to her shoulders, his fingers edged closer to the knot that was holding her towel up. He kept circling, edging a little closer, until his fingertips were dipping underneath the top of the towel, and there were little sighs falling from her lips. He knew that what he was doing was risky, and it could really go either way.
She might grip his wandering hands and pull him in for a kiss.
Or she might grip his wandering hands and break his fingers.
He only had to wait another few minutes before she answered that question for him. He was about to switch shoulders when suddenly she had kicked her chair away and was standing up in front of him. Clint's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn't really have any time to process the change in circumstances, because her arms went around his neck and her body was moulding against his. Her lips were suddenly on his and Clint felt her warmth spreading right through him and down to his toes. Somehow, the towel was still wrapped around her, but Clint could feel every one of her curves as his fingers danced up and down her sides before looping around her back and holding her against him. The kiss stole his breath and he groaned as she nipped at his lower lip.
"You better be ready to stay up all night, because I've been waiting a long time for this," Natasha whispered as they pulled apart briefly. Clint let out a laugh as one of his hands came up to tangle in her wet hair and massaged her scalp.
"You've been waiting? I'm pretty sure I've been thinking about it since the first time I ever saw you," he teased her.
"Is that why you only shot my shoulder," she quirked an eyebrow at him. Clint shook his head, a small smile on his face.
"Shut up," he murmured, capturing her mouth with his once more.
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