I had this idea in my head for while now and finally finished it.
The Little Prince quote 'magically' came up to me. I was taking a test when we had to comment on this sentence and it thought it was heaven-sent, an incentive for me to finish this fanfiction.
Well, having said this, enjoy.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. (...)Please-tame me!" – The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Clint always hated these missions. He hated having to be confined to such tight outfit such as a formal suit. Good thing was that they were at a casino and he'd spend most of the night gambling; one eye on the game, the other Natasha and the alleged KGB they were supposed to arrest, Satyev.
That was something else that he hated on these missions. Having to watch Natasha seducing guys hoping that she wouldn't need any help. But her not needing help didn't settle Clint. She'd still be clung to some guy's hips. Sometimes he just wished that he could put a bullet on those bastards right away. Well, he does has permission to do it, but only if their cover is exposed.
He had walked around that casino more times than he could count. He already knew each detail of the room and was now on the blackjack table, wanting for Natasha to show up any minute now.
And there she was. Elegantly and provocatively dressed, as the occasion required. Clint clenched his fists as he watched her walking over to the Russian guy. Today he was particularly worried about the mission. He was KGB, she used to be KGB; they were both Russian and spies. His head could only think of all the worst scenarios possible to happen. He couldn't see from a distance; he was losing focus and he couldn't. Whatever was boiling inside him had to be put aside; Natasha's life could depend on him.
Long minutes went by as he scornfully watched Satyev gently touching Natasha's face, running his fingers through her hair, making his hands climb up on her tights. She had hooked him; the first step of the mission had been a success. She now she just needed to lure him into the room upstairs and find a way to arrest him.
"Let me just shake off that guy that had been staring me all night." Natasha said to Satyev as he had accepted her offer of going up to her room.
Natasha crossed the room, going to Clint. She got close to him, whispering. "Stay here, you don't need to cover me from the opposite building. I can take him down."
He grasped her by the wrist and pulled her back. As soon as the first word left his mouth he already regretted, but he didn't want to stop it either. "It's still here." Clint vaguely touched his chest, making her understand what he was talking about.
Natasha looked in his eyes. She saw sadness, grief, anger… jealously? She couldn't quite well name what it was that his eyes mirrored, but she knew that there was something off about him.
"Tasha?" He called, making her stop, but she didn't turn to face him. "Be careful, 'kay?"
She didn't give him an answer.
Natasha and Satyev entered on the room. She was ready. Ready to have sex with another stranger. It was part of the job and she knew it very well. She had been doing it for many years now, it wasn't anything new. Yet, Clint's words were still lingering on her head. He seemed more upset today than any other day; the way he spoke at her, resentful, somehow reminding her of that scar she did on him.
She was ready to have a guy lying on top of her, eating her out while she'd be utterly bored and stressed with the situation. She knew she could tame him and do whatever she pleased with him, but she had to let him "win". She was ready to, when the time came, hold in the back of her throat a cry for Clint's name. In anyways, she'd be picture in her head that that other guy was Clint, even though he has nothing to do with him at all.
Physically, she was cheating on him, but at least not in her mind, and that was what was stressing her out.
Cheating on him!? They are not even in a relationship…
That was what was stressing her out; she was losing objectivity, and that wasn't good.
Agent Barton was sent to kill that KGB assassin. Black Widow was her cover name, real name Natasha Romanoff he read on her file. He had her on the crosshairs and he could have perfectly have shot her dead at the moment. But, for the first time in his life, Clint flinched. His index finger moved away from the trigger and he lost her. Quickly he made his way to the ground floor (as he was standing on the top of a building), crossed the road and entered the building across.
She had seen him through the window; she knew he had her in the sight and that she could be dead by now if he hadn't backed down. She didn't know why he backed down, but she wasn't willing to stay around to find out. Their paths met on the exiting stairs. He was going to enter, she was about to leave. The two immediately wield their guns, pointing straight to one another's heads.
Clint was the first to put down the gun. It only took her some seconds to do the same. People say that the eyes are the reflection of one's soul. She saw through his eyes a broken, dysfunctional persona, much like her. She saw a confused mind, questioning every day if his decisions were the righteous ones. She could see beyond his erected walls; walls that she has built around herself as well, and that like his, are thin as paper but appear to be bullet proof.
She saw something different on his eyes, something she had never seen from anyone. Empathy. He could see beyond what she was really was; he didn't materialize her as a weapon.
"I was sent to kill you, and I've let you live twice within minutes." Clint spoke. "I'm giving you the chance to outlive a third time."
"And that will cost me?"
"Nothing. Just your willingness in coming with me; wanting to become a part of something bigger. I'm Agent Clint Barton, S.H.I.E.L.D."
Clint heard the question Natasha made in the absolute silence. She didn't say a single word and yet he understood her perfectly. Clint pulled out the gun magazine to prove her he was being honest.
"Natasha Romanoff… Ex-KGB." She told him.
After being brainwashed by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agency, Natasha and Clint started doing works as a duo. The two of them always believe to be two lone wolves, but they understood each on field perfectly. And that was, a month or so after she seduced him. They could have wiped out most of her memories, but they couldn't erase the Russian spy essence that was within her for too many years now. Clint didn't control himself. They ended up in bed, and that was when he unknowingly turned the tables on her.
He made her fall in love for him away before she could actually feel that she loved him. He taught her the difference between sex and making love; the difference between being desired by a cannibalistic lust and an affectionate lust. He made her feel comfortable about intimacy and she learnt to trust, letting a man, for the first time ever, to be on top of her and take control.
After a couple of times of (apparently "innocent") rendezvous, she brought with her the very first knife she ever owned. She had never used it and she used it on him, doing an N-shaped cut on his chest, right over the place where she felt his heart beating. The cut was superficial, yet done with the extreme skill so it'd leave a scar. She marked him as hers, but not as a possession… just as a reminder for any further event or person who dared to take him away from her.
Natasha shook her head. She was overthinking, something not usual on her. She was losing her focus. That overflow of thoughts had been echoing on her head for some time now. It wasn't recent a thing, happening in that moment…
She had work to do and she had just had the perfect idea of how to do it. Natasha pushed Satyev, making him fall back on bed. She climbed on top of him, trapping him between her legs. She undid his belt and tied his wrists to the bed.
"Ah, you're a kinky malen'kaya suka."
Natasha felt outraged by his comment and by the way he was already fully erected with such less. Still, she managed to keep a straight face but slapped him anyway. It wouldn't seem such a stretch since he had just called her a malen'kaya suka…
She then proceeded to gag him and then leaned in on his ear, provokingly whispering. "I'm going to get some ice cubes."
Natasha walked out the door, and little did Satyev suspected that she'd be gone and the next person to burst in that room would be Nick Fury, wielding his gun at him.
Natasha made her way to the casino again and saw Clint leaned on the blackjack table, letting out a deep unsatisfied sigh. His leg was slightly flexed and his hands were gripping tight on the edge of the table. His all body was tense. It seemed like the clothes would burst by the seams. He was only wearing the plain white shirt, having left the coat somewhere; the shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the collar buttons were unbuttoned and his black tie was now just a piece of cloth hanging on his nape.
She passed through the small gap under his arm and fitted herself between him and the table.
"God fucking damn it, don't startle me like that, Tasha." Clint mumbled when her face was inches from his. "What happened? Where is he?" He then asked, having recovered from the quick scare.
"I called Nick already. He's on his way here; wants to arrest Satyev himself."
"Alright, but where's Satyev?"
"Tied up to bed, gagged. Told him I was going to pick up some ice cubes."
Clint seemed uncomfortable with those words. "Did you warn Fury about the nudity he might find?"
"He's fully dressed." Natasha said, somehow proud of her words. Clint sighed; his all body shrunk inside the suit. He was relaxed now.
Her lips curved on a faintly (shyly, perhaps?) smile as she played with the buttons of his shirt. Clint couldn't help but to smile. Natasha doesn't smile. At least not often or around others. He always felt to be the luckiest guy in the world, because he's the only one who, every once in a while, is graced by Natasha's absolutely gorgeous smile.
"What your mind, killer?" Clint joked as his eyes beheld that her faintly smile was still hanging on the corner of her lips.
Slowly she undid two more buttons of his shirt. Her left hand naturally found his skin and wandered on his chest. Her right hand exposed more of his skin.
"You're the most idiot guy I've ever met."
She leaned in and placed a lasting, tender kiss over the N shaped scar that rests over the area where his heart beats. She felt his heart pounding on the flesh of her lips.
"Proudly accept the taunt."
He pressed his body into hers and made her lean against the blackjack table. His mouth was already seeking for a kiss from her but she only let their lips brush, teasing him. Natasha pulled her head back and looked him in the eye. He gave her that smile only he can pull and leaned in again, this time only making their nose stroke on each other, but still he managed to delicately capture her lower lip between his teeth.
Natasha bit her lower lip and leaned in his ear, whispering. "Later tonight I will pull you by that tie of yours to bring you closer and make you lie on bed with me. And will take pleasure in slowly undo each of your shirt's buttons. So, straighten up your clothes, Barton."
Said and done. She walked away, swinging her hips just for the sake of his eyes laid over her as he was already buttoning up his shirt and doing the knot on his tie again.
He walked fast after her, wrapping his arm around her waist. Hurriedly and hungrily he kissed her neck and nibbled on her earlobe as they continued to walk. "I can't wait till later tonight…"
They had tamed each other and they liked it...
Review?
Apologies for any mistake or something. I wrote this very late... It's a lame excuse, but I'm going with it!
