Clint Barton
Archery practice always seemed to end up this way, with her pressed into the wall as he took her like an animal in heat. She mused it was the way he would stand behind her, his body heat sinking into her, his scent wafting around her as he showed her the proper stance.
His hands would slowly drift from her arms and hips to places a teacher should not touch. She loved it, the thrill of getting caught made it all that much better.
Little did he know she knew the proper stances, was on his level if not beyond it. Yet, if he knew that then their lessons would end and she couldn't let that happen.