Clint and Natasha needed tension release. Any time they fought anyone. Battle wound them up. They needed nervous energy release. How? Sex.
It was just sex though. Not a relationship. Natasha didn't believe in love and Clint didn't want a relationship after the disastrous Bobbi thing.
So there were no feelings. There was just tension release. So they could be as rough as they pleased.
Natasha hissed as her back hit the wall, easily slipping an ankle behind his knee and shoving him to the floor, moving quickly to straddle him.
Clint growled a warning at her, ankle throbbing painfully, both from the shove and from kicking in glass after his free fall. She merely dug her fingernails into his shoulders.
Hurting each other, getting responses (even nonverbal ones), meant that the other was alive. That the other still felt things.
Clint grabbed the back of neck, dragging her into a kiss. She rocked her hips down against him in response, the only control she had as he explored her mouth, hot pants of breath blowing into her mouth.
Sliding his hands down her neck, he easily slid the zipper down the back of her catsuit. In response, she tugged her lips away from his, dragging his shirt up and over his head. He leaned up, rolling her catsuit down.
Her hands dropped back as leverage so she could lift her hips enough for him to continue dragging her clothing down. It was messy, rough, and impatient. And when she was naked, she shoved him back, crawling down his body to tug at his pants. His hips pressed forward, allowing her to pull the restrictive fabric away.
When she successfully managed to free him from the fabric, he grabbed her upper arms, pulling her back up his body, rolling over to pin her to the floor. He immediately thrust into her and she cried out, back arching beautifully. Because it wasn't about feelings. It was about reactions.
Her nails dragged down his now bare back, and he hissed, beginning to piston into her, leaning down to bite her neck, relishing in her cry. Sharp fingernails digging into his skull, threading in his hair tugged him back, giving her the opportunity to return the favor, nipping at his adam's apple.
While he was distracted, she hooked her legs around his waist, using that leverage to roll him onto his back. Digging her nails into his chest, he let his hands moved to her hips, tight enough to bruise. She bounced on top of him, taking control of the rhythm, while he just tried to keep up, hands tightening to help lift her and reveling in the sound of her grunts.
He cried out as her nails raked down his chest, that final reaction sending Natasha over the edge, screaming as she spasmed around her. He groaned, head dropping to to hit against the hard concrete floor as he followed her over the edge.
When all was said and done and they were sore for an entirely different reason than battle bruises, Natasha would curl into his side and he would wrap his arms around her. But it wasn't about feelings…really it wasn't…