Hello my sweetbuns! Welcome to chapter 3.5 of Unmade! I say 3.5 because it isn't the next chapter, it's the BlackHawk lemony goodness portion of chapter 3. Nothing in this installment is important to the plot, so if you are not a fan of lemons you can skip this chapter. (I do not understand this, but I can respect it. Mostly. lol)
WARNING: contains mature content. DO NOT READ if you are offended by sexual content. Got it? Kthxbai. Don't worry, babies come from storks.
Mindful of how Clint had been favoring his left side since they got back to the tower, Natasha refrained from wrapping herself around the man and slamming him back onto the bed like she wanted to. Clint sensed her hesitancy and slid his hands down Natasha's sides to hook behind her knees, yanking her forward and causing their hips to align forcefully. The pair of agents had spent years carefully sidestepping the chemistry between them that had nothing to do with friendship or duty. Now that they were finally crossing this line, Barton sure as hell wasn't going to let Romanoff hold anything back. He opted to show rather than tell his partner that of the many things he wanted from her, restraint was not one of them.
Clint rolled sideways, pulling Natasha beneath him and stealing the spy's breath with his abrupt assertion of control. He kissed her hard and deep, making her abandon any lingering notion that he needed to be handled gently. He withdrew for a heartbeat to discard his boots and remaining clothing then covered her body with his again.
Natasha's head lolled back and she hummed with pleasure as Clint's teeth scraped her collar bone, his lips wandering down to the smooth skin of her cleavage. After a moment the spy leaned up and reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, impatiently discarding the troublesome barrier keeping Clint's mouth from where she wanted it. Barton smiled when she chucked the garment to the floor, loving the way the cool, collected assassin he knew was coming undone in his arms.
Natasha arched against the marksman's muscled frame, relishing the delicious sensation of his heated skin meeting hers. Clint reached up and kneaded one soft, full breast, taking the rosy peak of the other in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tight bud. He teased the flesh to a rigid point with his teeth, wringing desperate little gasps from her throat as he did so.
"God, Clint…" Natasha panted when he bit her sensitive nipple a little too hard, just like she'd hoped he would. He leaned over to give similar attention to her other breast, his hand sliding down the flat plane of her stomach and toward her already wet center. A delicious pressure was building in her lower abdomen, every touch and kiss adding fuel to the fire burning in her flesh.
Clint's hand slipped beneath her panties and along her slick heat. The archer's strong, callused fingers pressed into her entrance and stroked her walls, making Natasha moan deeply. He thrust two, then three digits inside her and curled his fingers in time with her shuddering breaths, rubbing his thumb against the button of nerves above her opening to make her see stars. Hawkeye had a feeling he was going to pay for taking complete control like this; the Black Widow did not strike him as the type of lover to tolerate being dominated for long. But he looked forward to what she might do to get back at him later.
Natasha's hands twisted into the sheets as Clint leaned forward to lick and nip at her neck while his skillful ministrations drove her closer to glorious oblivion. Barton craned his head up and kissed her ear, his breathing hot and ragged with desire. Natasha tipped her face towards him, sweeping her hand through his short sandy hair and pulling him in to press her lips against his urgently. She moaned desperately into his mouth as he increased the pace of his fingers, her whole body trembling with need as he drew her tighter and tighter like a bowstring. They broke apart to gasp for breath and Natasha cried out as her climax hit her like a surging wave. Clint relished the sight of his partner's face as she found her peak, all her barriers stripped away in that moment of bliss.
Barton withdrew his fingers and sat up to pull her panties over her hips and off her body. Natasha proceeded to hook one leg around his waist and hauled herself upright, bringing her face a breath away from his.
"Should I be worried that you're so good at that?" Natasha quipped, nudging his nose with hers.
"Absolutely not." He replied with a cocky grin. Barton shifted to lay her back on the bed, but the redhead had other ideas. She pushed back, sliding her tongue into his mouth and for a moment the pair battled for dominance. Barton groaned with pleasure when Natasha reached between them to stroke his hard length, weakening his resolve to fight her for control. It was the tiny opening she needed, and before Clint could blink she swept him with a move he had seen her use to take down men twice her size on more than one occasion.
A stab of pain in his ribs made Clint see red for an instant as Natasha slammed him on the bed, but it only served to rile him up and he matched the fierceness of her kiss even as she pinned him beneath her. Her fiery hair tickled his face as the Widow moved to trace the bow of his ear with the tip of her tongue, teasing him with light touches the way he had done to her.
Clint hissed through his teeth as Natasha leaned back and ground her slick heat against his erection, kissing a trail down his throat and the middle of his chest. The Widow worked her way down his body with her lips until she knelt between his legs. She slowly licked his hardness from base to tip before taking him in her mouth. Natasha bobbed her head up and down, using her hand to stroke what she couldn't accommodate with her mouth.
"Damn it Tasha…" Clint groaned with pleasure as she swirled her tongue around his shaft. He forced himself to hold still as she tantalized his rigid flesh, pushing him to the brink. His head tipped back and he had to tense all his muscles to keep from exploding. Natasha licked him playfully, knowing how close he was. Most men she had been with, whether for work or recreation, arrived at their pleasure as quickly as possible without a thought for their partner's satisfaction. But Clint was patient, or perhaps, she thought with a smile, he was stubborn. She met his gaze and she could see in his face that he didn't want her to finish him off. He wasn't done with her yet.
Natasha climbed up his hard body, her stiff nipples brushing his chest as she settled over him. Clint craned his head up to bite her pale neck, his hands gliding up and down her sides. His fingers slipped between her legs, stirring up the banked embers of her desire. God, she loved his hands. Their lips met in a deep, hungry kiss and Natasha moaned in her throat as Clint pumped into her, drawing out her own wetness to swirl around her tingling clit. The spy reached down and took his throbbing length in her hand and guided him into her center, both of them crying out as they merged. Natasha took him to the hilt and swiveled her hips, gasping at the way he stretched and filled her. Barton gripped her hips and guided her motion to keep their rhythm in sync, growling with need as he thrust up into her tight sheath.
Natasha sat up, her full breasts bouncing as Clint pounded into her, eyes screwing shut from the intense pressure building at the apex of her thighs. "Clint… God, yes…" She panted desperately, her pleasure winding tighter till it threatened to burst and shatter to her pieces.
"Come for me, Nat." Clint murmured, driving her harder. His rough voice unraveled her, and she cursed in Russian as she rode out her orgasm, feeling the hot burst of Clint's seed inside her as he followed her over the edge. Barton pulled Natasha into an embrace, exhaling with satisfaction as he slipped out of her body. The pair of master assassins lay entwined in the mussed sheets, and for the first time since this whole nightmare with the Tesseract started they felt completely at peace.
Both Hawk and Widow had been dreading the thought of sleep and the horrors that awaited their unconscious minds. But as they lay skin to skin drawing comfort from each other's warmth, they found it easy to slip into a blissful, dreamless sleep. They had earned that much at least.
