Author's Note: Good evening, everyone. Okay, new fandom and new pretty long oneshot, I'm ready! I have seen The Avengers three times and like 99.5% of the viewers, I absolutely loved it. The action, the drama, the dark humor, the plot lines, the characters were all on point, and as a very welcome bonus, I got to add to my ever growing List of Love on my profile.
I ship Hawkeye and Black Widow so hard that it hurts and what better way to get ever closer to my FFN milestone of 100 stories than to write their awesomeness? There's just so much potential fic fodder for them (Budapest…enough said…) and I want to play too.
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE ARE WITHIN THIS. But, I'm pretty sure I don't have to worry about that with you guys because most of the authors I've read (and stalked…) in this fandom have seen the movie at least twice now. Also, the bit of Russian is from Google Translate and may be wrong. If it is, I'll fix it. Well, here's my BlackHawk contribution and I hope y'all enjoy what I've come up with.
Disclaimer "Honestly, it's not mine!"
Although Natasha Romanov had invited him to spend their "earned leave of absence" with her, he hadn't expected anything like this.
In retrospect, Clint Barton should've. One thing that Black Widow had made clear from the get-go was that the unexpected was the norm with her. From winning a melee with only a broken wine bottle and her feet as weapons to the sparkly clear ("Disco Diva") polish she put on her toes, she was a slew of challenges and contradictions. Recuperating from Loki's mental violation with her guaranteed not only complete understanding but some form of Tasha based mayhem…
Anyway, once he had set his duffel and weapons in the second bedroom, she had pounced on him. Her lips had crashed onto his, demanding and pleading at once. Clint had responded eagerly and she had peeled his clothes off like he was a banana. Reaching under her white floral sundress, she had slid off her black thong and plunged onto him to the hilt. His analytical mind and imagination hadn't come close to the true feel of her, the look and smell of her…
Her fingers had traced bruises, some from their fight on the Helicarrier, some from Manhattan. As her hips moved and twisted, she had been careful not to jostle his left leg, his knee still swollen from landing in the office. His hands had roamed over her greedily, learning, caressing, tracing her own bruises under her dress. Every time his eyes fluttered shut, she stopped and he knew why. She wanted to make sure that they wouldn't turn sickly sky blue, that her "cognitive recalibration" would hold up to their released emotions, over half a decade of suppressed care and need plucked from the depths like that fucking Cube…
The only noise she had made in the encounter had been when she came, a raw guttural scream through gritted teeth. Her hands had gone from his chest to his wrists, pinning them next to his head, his ragged moans and gasps of release puffing against her collarbone. When nature took its course and separated them, Natasha had calmly pulled her dress off and rested her head on his chest, the both of them dozing in and out of sleep…
"I've been compromised." she said after an hour, "You've compromised me."
Clint said nothing as she shifted, pressing her bare flesh even closer to him as she locked their gazes.
"When Coulson told me that Loki had you, I felt scared and angry. I was scared for you and angry at you at the same time. You made me care about you and then you got yourself in trouble when I was too damned far away to be of any immediate use. And I was scared because I knew that anyone compromising you had to be a well above average asshole and there was a distinct possibility of not getting you back or getting a shell of you back. I…I don't know what I would've done if we hadn't been able to get you back."
His arms wound around her tighter, squeezing her gently. She used her toes to pull one of the comforters over them fully and lightly nuzzled the base of his neck.
"I know Fury filled you in on what happened. I…I know you saw what happened at the Cell."
"…I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you! Slowly… intimately… in every way he knows you fear… and then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim…"
"Natasha…"
"Shut up. I promised myself that I'd do this sober, now let me. Clint, I used the connection between us as a weapon and for that, I apologize. It and you deserve better than that."
"It was worth it. If you hadn't, we'd all be dead right now."
"True. It doesn't make it any less wrong, though."
A heavier silence fell between them and her lips pressed lightly against his sternum, his right pectoral, his shoulder…
"You've always said that love is for children."
It was one of the few things they managed to disagree on.
"I still think that but… at the end of the day, everyone has a bit of childishness in their character. Besides, it's not like it's unrequited. At least I hope it's not unrequited."
"It's not." he assured her quickly.
"Good. Kicking your ass was difficult enough once. I'd hate to have to do it again for you breaking what's left of my heart." she replied with a slightly sardonic smile.
Clint pressed a kiss to her brow and relaxed further into the wreckage of the bedding, staring up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan beyond her flame red locks. Her new haircut was nice and all but he liked her hair best when it was long. It still smelled like apples and gunpowder though, comforting him further…
"I tried to fight him, Tasha."
"I know you did."
"It was like…have you ever gotten tangled in a net before?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"It was like being caught in the biggest, most twisted net ever and it was heavy, like chains. I could break through a little sometimes, enough to feel revulsion and regret at the shit I was doing but I couldn't break free. Things were cold and…there was this clarity, this twisted logic that pulled at me, drew me in deep. The little bastard sure knew how to make crazy sound sane. You think there are political coaches in Asgard?"
"If so, they deserve to be shot and quartered. How did you break free even a little? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"
"It's okay. I just thought about you."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you. I wanted to see you again, be near you again. Before all this happened, I hadn't seen you in over a year and things don't suck nearly as much when you're around. Of course, Loki decided to bank on that desire and make it violent but…I knew in what's left of my heart, that if anyone could get me out of his control, it would be you. It gave me hope. He couldn't take that from me, no matter how hard he tried."
"Hmm…no wonder he didn't like me. I was a walking off-switch to his new toy."
"Basically. I swear to God…when I saw that tape and that he had gotten to you even a little…I should've shot him. Blowing him off of that alien hover scooter was nice but I should've put an arrow through his silver tongue when I had the chance."
"I have a happy feeling that once the Asgardians and the people he got into bed with get done with him, he'll wish you had."
Clint couldn't help but chuckle at the bloodthirsty smile playing at her lips and groaned softly as she sat up fully. Natasha had no hang-ups about nudity. It was just skin, she said. Everyone had skin so it shouldn't matter how anyone looked.
She was undeniably beautiful. Her legs were long and strong, her thighs soft to the touch. Her stomach was trim but not too trim, letting him feel warmth but not her bones and her breasts…they were firm and lush, creamy white and inviting to his mouth. Sitting up, he took a raspberry red nipple between his lips and she purred, arching into the sensation. His calloused fingertips spanned her hips and she used her legs as leverage to reverse their positions. Her eyes were darkened to cerulean and completely focused on him, her fingertips following his spine. Rising up on his forearms, Clint kissed her gently, his tongue twining with hers slowly.
Natasha pulled him back against her and locked her ankles around his waist, a blatant invitation to enter her again. A pleased gasp escaped her as he did so and he pressed down on her, following her rhythm. Her blunt nails dug into his shoulders and Clint set out to give her a love bite on the base of her neck. Her jumpsuit would cover it, as would the cover-up he had gotten for her in Athens but the both of them would know it was there.
When she made to get on top of him, he used a gentle but firm forearm to hold her down.
"My turn."
She nodded and he tilted her hand back, his lips descending to just underneath her chin. There was a tiny prick mark from his knife there and he let the tip of his tongue dart against it, a silent apology. Her right arm wound around his shoulders and her fingertips met the area of his railing impact, a silent acceptance. His hips surged forward and twisted slowly, causing her walls to ripple around him, warm shivers of pleasure to go down his spine as she followed his rhythm. Natasha was gasping and moaning, his name interspersed between phrases in Russian. His knowledge was a little rusty but she definitely was pleased and he picked up, "…lyubimyĭ", 'beloved one'. He was her beloved one. She would be always be his beloved one, as well…
A loud gasp accented her arch and Natasha writhed slowly, her eyes rolling back as she climaxed around him. Clint joined her with a soft groan, gripping her hips as his body shook. God, yes…
"Why haven't we done this earlier?"
"We weren't ready to yet." he replied gently.
"…I was just gonna say we were stupid but that works too."
He looked at her and she looked back with a placid face.
Slowly, a warm smile curved her Cupid's bow lips and he returned it gratefully.
