Darcy woke to sunlight and soft snoring and for a brief moment had absolutely no idea where she was. After a second of disorientation and not recognising the ceiling she had a rush of blood both to her face as a blush and to her groin in a delightful tingle as she remembered where she was and who she was with. After the initial disbelief (because, seriously, how could a geek like her have ever managed to bed a man that gorgeous?) she turned her head to look at him. He looked so peaceful, about as cute as a guy fifteen years older than her could ever be considered. She wondered about waking him until a rather persistent ache in her bladder made her realise that she needed to avail herself of the facilities, so she crept from the bed, slipped on his discarded t-shirt to give herself a vague semblance of modesty and went to find her backpack, which contained her toothbrush. Two birds with one stone and all that.
Having taken care of the urgency and got rid of her morning breath, she stared at herself in the large mirror over the sink and tool stock. Hair a mess, still wearing remnants of the previous evenings make-up; generally a bit of a car crash. She scrubbed her face clean, but she couldn't find her hairbrush. Oh well, the "bed-head" look was in, right? She gave the shower-over-tub an appraising look, but decided that it could wait – right now she fancied some breakfast. Rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes as she unlocked the bathroom door, she walked straight into the hard chest of Clint, who was waiting just outside the door. He caught her arms as she started to fall backwards with a surprised squeak, pulling her back to him in an effort to keep her steady. Her hands reflexively grabbed for him, clutching at his bare back as she tried not to fall on her arse. She ended up in a close embrace with her face pressed against his chest as he chuckled into her hair. She gave a hum of satisfaction against his skin, rubbed her cheek against him and felt his heartbeat start to increase; he gave a soft growl when she snaked her tongue out and licked the smooth skin. He gently pushed her away. "Just give me a minute and I will be right with you" he winked at her as he lifted (seriously! Like she was as light as a feather!) her out of the way and scooted past her. She snorted and went through to the kitchen/living room in search of food.
Unsurprisingly, there were no Eggos or Poptarts, none of the instant "nuke it and enjoy the additives" foods to which she had become accustomed, and she was grateful for the chance to actually eat a little healthier. Finding all the ingredients for blueberry pancakes (she had been hoping for a bag of chocolate chips, but evidently Clint was a nuts-and-berries kind of snackist) she was just in the process of whisking up the batter when strong arms crept around her waist.
Afterwards, she denied the ear-piercing shriek which Clint swore blind she had released, even though… seriously, how the hell can you get crept up on when your sightline cover the only door he had to have walked through to reach you. She did not, however, deny whirling round and smacking him in the chest with a batter-coated fork. She'd scored a hit on the mighty Hawkeye, and if she agreed to keep quiet about the Taser then she was sure going to boast about this. He looked down, smiling at her outburst as a trail of batter slowly dripped from his pectoral onto one of his cut-glass abdominals and, as she watched transfixed, came to rest against the waistband of a pair of grey sweatpants. She glanced back to his face, swallowing hard as she tried not to hyperventilate with lust, a blush slowly creeping across her expressive face. His grin turned from amused to extremely cocky in a (rapidly accelerating) heartbeat. As if in slow motion he took the fork from her slack grip, pushed it and the bowl to one side and then, before she could even blink, she was sat on the counter and he was pushing between her knees and kissing her so astonishingly well that she forgot to be mad at him for making her jump out of her skin. Her bare feet curled around the back of his thighs and pulled him closer, her hands clasped behind his neck to hold him close.
Clint growled into their kiss, leaning above her and making her have to tilt herself back if she wanted to keep their contact. Seeing her make them breakfast whilst wearing his t-shirt had awoken the desire of ownership once more and god damn it this time he was going to give into it. He was dominating their embrace – demanding she give him what he wanted – and she was giving in willingly, offering herself up to him. Her hands left his neck to prevent herself from falling over backwards as he shifted her balance, making her first lean back and then pressing her down to her elbows. She was moaning gently, her breath catching when he ran an authoritive hand up her thigh, pushing his t-shirt up before delving straight between her legs. She broke their kiss with a groan, her head falling back as her hips bucked and two fingers slid easily into her. He bit her neck, marking the pale skin red and sucking up a bruise before soothing the abused skin with a swipe of his tongue. Her arms gave out, falling from her elbows to her back and she reached for him again. His fingers slipped free of her and he took hold of her wrists pushing them above her head and curling her fingers over the edge of the worktop. "Stay there" he growled against her throat, feeling her swallow and nod her compliance.
Darcy was torn – she was meant to be one of those fiercely independent women and here she was doing exactly what a man told her. And screw her seven ways to Sunday but damn if she didn't find it one of the biggest turn-ons ever. She was just adding it to her now very long list of "Things I Like About Clint" when he left off worrying her throat and stepped back, panting slightly. She lay there for a few moments, exposed on the worktop, unable to either see nor hear him. "Clint?" shit, she sounded weak and desperate, "What are you…JESUSFUCK!" and he was right there, his tongue running up her slit, his breath hot on her sensitive skin. His hands ran up her legs, lifting her thighs onto his shoulders before wrapping his fingers around her hips and bodily pulling her onto his tongue. She started to reach down to tangle her fingers in his hair but before she could do more than shift her weight he pulled his head away. She whimpered at the loss.
"I told you to keep your hands up. Do it again and I'll stop" he growled before gently nipping at the soft flesh of her thigh. He breathed in deeply, taking her scent and memorising it before letting it out as a hot gust over her damp skin, making her shiver beneath him. Darcy whimpered again and Clint took pity on her, rubbing her clitoris gently with his nose before delving his tongue inside her, sucking and nibbling until she was shaking and a constant stream of curses dripped from her lips. He swirled his tongue around the most sensitive part of her body and her back arched, her thighs tightening across his shoulders and her heels digging into his back. The curses were louder and less coherent, becoming sporadic as breath came less and less easily.
Darcy felt as if she was barely holding onto her sanity, her white-knuckle grip on the worktop and Clints tongue in her cunt the only things anchoring her. The blood was pounding in her ears and her eyes were screwed shut, rendering her both deaf and blind, her entire body focussing instead on everything that the man between her legs was doing to her. And then, dear god, he was suckling on her clit and he hummed and the world shattered around her with a scream which only stopped once her lungs were completely emptied.
Slowly she came back to herself, feeling him gently smoothing her hair. She stared into his blue-grey eyes for a moment before grabbing him and pulling him into a bruising kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, his weight pressing her down. She wrapped her legs around his, pulling his crotch into hers and he laughed softly into her mouth before pulling back. She gave a whine of complaint but it was drowned out by an insistent rumbling from her stomach. "Breakfast first Darcy, we've got to keep our strength up" and he helped her down from the worktop, catching her into his arms when her knees gave out. "Darcy Lewis, breakfast of champions" he teased once he had carried her to the couch and she threw him a look. She wasn't certain what sort of look it was – she'd been going for annoyed tolerance, but suspected that it was spoilt by her crimson blush. He sniggered and left her trying to gather her dignity.
Darcy really didn't mind that he had taken over making the breakfast. The thought of not having to be the responsible one, of not having to make sure that Jane had eaten – or even slept – was really rather appealing. Come Monday she'd be back having to mother Jane (and quite possibly Erik as well) but for now she could relax and enjoy her weekend with a super-sexy secret agent who could cook and do the most phenomenal things with his mouth. So, she crossed her ankles up on the low table in front of the couch and relaxed back with her hands behind her head and a self-satisfied smile.
Clint was watching her from the small kitchenette as he re-mixed and then cooked up the pancakes. He was thoughtful – he'd been on countless missions and met, wooed and sometimes assassinated some of the most beautiful women in the world and yet none of them had got under his skin quite like the kooky, delightful Darcy. He didn't know whether it was her natural honesty or her general exuberance for anything which could be called "different" (she had responded with nothing but enthusiasm over his circus upbringing, which had been rather refreshing) but, well, it was incredibly attractive. He refused to think that he was falling for her, despite the warm feeling which lodged itself in his stomach as he watched her relax, wearing his t-shirt and basking in the post-orgasm glow which he had caused. And now the pancakes were ready and he was starving after whetting his appetite on the young woman. He loaded up two plates with a stack each, snagged the maple syrup from the cupboard and joined Darcy on the couch.
The apartment had a TV with basic cable so they watched cartoons whilst they ate, Clint derisively pointing out all the flaws in a CGI Link's technique whilst Darcy giggled over the mental image of Clint wearing a little green jerkin and a pointy hat. The plates were thoroughly cleaned (Darcy was tempted to drink the maple syrup neat because it really was the good shit which didn't come in a bear shaped bottle, but successfully managed to resist looking like a complete pig in front of the hot man who gave her the sexy times) and they were relaxing on the couch together, feeling far more familiar and domesticated than they had any right to be on what was, essentially, their second date. Her bare legs were across his lap and he was unconsciously rubbing gentle circles on her ankle, which was starting to reduce her to a puddle of goo. She had to move or she'd jump right there, and Spongebob was not a good sex soundtrack. She swung her feet to the floor, catching a glimpse of swiftly-hidden disappointment from Clint, and stood.
"I need a shower. Seriously, I smell like a brothel", Clint smiled and shook his head in denial, before turning to watch her collect her backpack again and scurry to the bathroom. Well, she had great legs and his t-shirt barely covered a third of her thighs and he was only human. When he heard the bathroom door close he let out a sigh and pressed the heel of his palm against his semi-hard cock (jesus, those legs…) before grabbing the plates. Time to wash up the dishes and then see if she'd remembered to lock the bathroom door…
She had. Ah well, he'd just have to prep for the day he had planned. As he was loading the last few items into a large backpack he heard the water cut out, and shortly afterwards the door opened to reveal the object of his fantasies for the past week, wet hair down her back and clad only with a towel. He dropped the bag from nerveless fingers as his mouth fell open. The morning light made her damp skin glisten and he wanted nothing more than to taste it, to spend hours worshipping her. She looked a little disconcerted at his expression. "What?"
He shook his head to clear it a little. "Darcy, you have no idea just how god damned sexy you are, do you?" He was answered with the most gorgeous embarrassed blush and she ducked her head with a smile. He crossed the room and lifted her face to his by gently grasping her chin. He kissed her softly, ghosting his lips over her as their breath mingled. "Don't ever hide away from it, please Darcy? You kill me by being so amazing and I wish I could be more like you". She opened her mouth against his to protest and he silenced her with his tongue. He wrapped his arms around her and Darcy seemed to melt against him, damp skin against his.
Darcy was truly overwhelmed. Clint spoke with such conviction that she couldn't help but believe him, making him the most honest and passionate of all her previous lovers. And yet, the gentlest of his kisses had her knees both metaphorically and literally quivering. She couldn't help it. She burst into tears.
Clint was absolutely mortified that he had caused such a reaction, so he pulled her into a tight hug until her snuffles were much reduced and she pulled back with an embarrassed laugh and an apology, dashing away the tears on her cheeks with her hand. He held onto her shoulders and looked at her earnestly. "I'm not sorry for saying that, because it's true. I am sorry that I made you cry, so I hope that our date for the day cheers you up". He looked amused at her quizzical, though red-rimmed, look. "It's a surprise. Wear something comfortable, we're going by bike". He left her to get dressed with a quick touch of her cheek before he vanished into the bathroom himself.
Twenty minutes later they were gathering the bags. They both wore jeans and t-shirts (both shirts were Clint's because Darcy claimed she didn't have anything suitable and that warm bubble was back in his gut at seeing her in the purple t-shirt he'd worn on their first date) and he threw the large backpack to her. Her arms sagged at the sudden weight and she looked alarmed. "Oh no you don't" he cautioned as she made to peek inside and he helped her put it on. Her eyes were sparkling again, and he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead. "Ready?"
"Always."
