Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers...

The Magpie

Chapter Nine

"Come on, Barton. This way," came the hurried and urgent whisper from his partner. She was far too busy dragging him along by his wrist and he felt utterly foolish. He could very well follow her without being dragged around like a rag doll, but according to her he was bulky, didn't even know the meaning of the word stealth and had no concept as to blending into the shadows.

Clint felt heavily insulted; he was a god-damned marksman of SHIELD. But he kept his mouth shut and let himself be dragged by the master thief. It was far better than being pulled into walls, pushed into dark corners, slapped on the arm to be quiet, pinched to be faster and scowled at because he was far too heavily built.

Both his and her individual tasks were done. They had entered the party separately, lingered and mingled. Meyer went first and retrieved what she was supposed to and then Clint went on to take care of his target. Then Clint was stuck on a floor and Meyer had come to his rescue. They had been waiting till a suitable time to leave the party.

They could have sneaked out, but the security outside would be onto them immediately. Especially since they were searching for the man Clint took out. They thought him missing, but Clint and Meyer knew better. According to the plan they needed a proper excuse to leave without rousing suspicions and Meyer apparently had a brilliant idea. So there they were in a seemingly deserted corridor moving about while the security of the place were combing through the floors with fine toothed comb.

Clint whispered, "Where are we going? We need an escape route."

She shot him a quick sharp look as she continued to drag him along. Her heels were not even clicking on the floor and that amazed Clint considering the fact that he had seen those sexy and insanely high heels. She really was very stealthy. Her voice was a very smooth hiss, "No, we need to escape suspicions. We only need to get ourselves cleared from their list of possible suspects."

She was confusing and this whole thing was her game now. She was the master player and he had to play the part of the rookie. Even though he could escape from there with her in his own way, but she was the lead agent and it was her way or the highway, so to speak. He trusted her completely with this, her reputation was made of jobs like these. She had a plan for sure, the problem was that she was one of those overly arrogant people who thought they were smarter than everybody else especially when it came to their own field of expertise. She knew what she was doing and thought him stupid enough to not being able to even comprehend the complexity of her mind and plan.

That slight frown between her brows and the loud exasperation from her eyes made him grin like a schoolboy pulling on the pigtails of the girl he liked. He was enjoying it immensely and just to agitate her a little, he asked softly, "What do you mean?"

She grumbled, her soft hand tightening around his wrist, "Really, Barton. Quit thinking. Just follow my instructions to the last dot and without questions. This is my specialty after all. Breaking in and getting out without getting caught, remember?"

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see it, he swore he felt her roll her eyes. He smirked as he eyed the great view of her back in the dark corridors as she continued to drag him along. That perfect curve of her spine and all the pale soft skin before him, made him lick his lip like a hungry cat before a canary. He spoke lowly and deeply, "Fine. So what do we do?"

She shushed him and kept going down the corridor and to Clint's further bewilderment, towards the direction the guards were coming from. She hadn't even looked at any of the numerous doors they had passed, but this time she braked suddenly and stopped in front of a door abruptly, making him bump into her back hard. His only free hand grabbed her around the stomach to keep from both of them falling. Before he even had the chance to enjoy the wonderfully curvaceous woman in his arms, she opened the door and shoved him in with a whispered order, "This way."

It was a dark room until Meyer stepped in as well and flipped the switch. She hastily closed the door making sure close it with a loud click. Why the hell was she making noise now when he could hear men coming their way from a distance? He watched with frantic eyes, his body tense and ready for her next order. They couldn't possibly be cornered.

He asked promptly, "Now what?"

The look Meyer gave him was wicked and gravely serious at the same time. Clint couldn't decide why but his breathing picked up just a little and his heart drummed loudly in his ears. He flushed hot as Meyer stalked towards him. Her voice was a firm order and like the good soldier he was his body jumped at that tone, "The oldest trick in the book. Take off your jacket and undo your belt."

His hands moved automatically. His jacket dropped on the floor and the loud clink of his belt quickly followed, his eyes never wavered from her though and it was her actions that froze him to the floor. She backed up against a wall, raised her hands to the up-do of her hair and plunger her hands in it, messing it up. Then her hands slid down and she swiftly pulled down the straps of her dress till the top half of her perfect pale breasts were thrust out of her dress.

Clint watched with a very dry throat as her hands slid down her stomach and to her thighs and then she grabbed handfuls of her dress and yanked it all up till a pair of perfect pale legs in dangerously sexy high heels were exposed till the knees. His voice came out in a far too dry voice, "Wh-what? What the hell are you doing?"

She scoffed at him impatiently, "What does it look like, Barton?"

Answering that question was facing a loaded gun. He blanched even though his body spoke volumes and fought against his strict control. His mind whispered filthy wishes and dark desires, all of it urging him to ravish her. She was begging for it. This time he reacted in a way that was one of Meyer's signature reactions. His face remained impassive as he blinked and blinked again at her.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, she snapped at him, "Just shut up, get over here and play along. They are almost here."

His feet felt like they were incased in concrete. Slowly he walked over to her, a little unsure and more apprehensive about what she wanted him to do. She got impatient real quick. A low whisper in his head told him to take note of how impatient she was and to imagine how she would react in bed. She would order him about, demand her pleasure impatiently and he should then go excruciatingly slow, restricting her movement and teasing her till she was delirious with her arousal, lost that demanding bossiness from her voice and begged for him.

She grabbed him by the wrist once more and pulled with a surprising amount of strength. He barely managed to not hit her with his body. His palms slapped flat on the wall beside her waist, his chest brushed her soft breasts and his face came a hair's width away from hers.

She looked up into his eyes and whispered, seductively and tauntingly, "Come on, Barton. Haven't you ever done this before? Pin me to the wall like you mean it. Lift me up and push yourself into me."

Clint wasn't even aware how hard his face had gotten and how feral he looked in his arousal and that fire that ran in his blood because of this tempest of a woman trapped in between him and a wall. Clint took in her reactions with great relish though. He seared it in his memory how flushed her pale skin had gotten, all the way from those heaving curves of her breasts to her throat and over her cheeks, how her luscious lips had dropped open and how she slowly wet them with a flick of her tongue and how her breathing had quickened and how dark her gold-hazel eyes had gotten. He didn't need eidetic memory to remember Meyer like this. This would be near impossible to forget.

He was breathing hard as well, she was inhaling his breath and he was inhaling hers; that was how close those two were. He pressed his hard body, all muscle and unforgiving into her soft pliant body. She was pinned to the wall just like she had asked for. A groan slipped out of his tightly pressed lips at the feel of her crushed breasts against his chest; his eyes lewdly looked at the pale flesh spilling out of her neckline and looked as if they were being offered to Clint's hungry greedy mouth. They were begging to be tasted and marked.

His eyes flicked back to her eyes dangerously and then his hands swiftly grabbed her tightly by her hips and dragged her up a foot or two above the floor. After she was lifted by him, pinned by his arms, his breathing was not breathing anymore, it was flat out panting and his body was coiled tightly like a spring. Ready for her next command like an obedient but very angry and dangerous soldier. He was going to devour her if she wasn't being careful.

Her hands, he didn't even notice their position until they came to softly rest on his broad shoulders. At her touch, he felt some of his tension slip away, but his skin till burned for her. His lips ached to press against hers. He waited and his head swam in the delicious scent of vanilla and lavender.

His body was cradled perfectly and snugly in between her open legs. He knew he'd be a goner if she wrapped those legs around his hips and took him further into her. One of her hands, softly grabbed the back of his neck, looked down into his eyes from her higher dangling position and whispered, "Play along. I am a desperate housewife and you're my lover. We're having a scandalous tryst at a party and we will be caught in a few minutes by those security guys. Get it?"

His only answer was a slow blink of his eyes and the tightening of the hands clutching her hips. She nodded once, "Now, plant your lips at my neck and push one hand right up my dress."

She was pushing him too far. He growled lowly and by the ever so slight shiver that went through Meyer he smugly noted that she felt his growl rather then heard it, "What?"

She snapped, her eyes ablaze and temper rising, "Quit repeating yourself."

His blue eyes burned with desire and an urge to shut her smart mouth up. One of his hand that had been gripping her hip tightly, slipped down, caressing the curve of her hip slowly, firmly and all the way down her thigh till her knee. With a quick grasp of the dark material of her skirt, he yanked it up swiftly and expertly, leaving her leg bare, pale and inviting his touch.

His knew his finger tips were rough and calloused from all the years of him handling his bow strings and bolts. It gave him a very intense thrill to see her shudder as he ran those rough finger tips in a slow caress over the soft skin of her pale thighs. As Clint's finger's slid higher up her bared thigh, she arched up against him in the most sensual way, her mouth let out the most inaudible of little gasps.

Clint smirked darkly, ever the temptress, his Magpie. He wanted to do more, could do more but that wasn't how this game was being played. There were thundering footsteps coming their way down the corridor and they were going to not get caught, if all went along Meyer's plan. So, like a good soldier he would follow his lead agent's orders and for now, even though Meyer's sweet body was asking for more and he was ready to give it all to her, Meyer hadn't given any further instructions. He just did as he was told and nothing more. But he'd be damned if Meyer wasn't feeling at least a large fraction of the frustration he was suffering from at the feel of her body trapped against him. If he was going to drown, he was going to take her with him, siren or not, he thought wryly.

The danger of being caught, the adrenaline pumping in their veins and the friction between them that existed from the moment Clint had first laid eyes on her, all of it was making the tension between them more potent and a spell so strong that Clint wouldn't be able to break it later on, he knew it. He breathed in her delicious scent and waited with a predator's patience for her next instruction when his eyes caught something dark on the floor by his foot.

His eyes went wide, his throat dried up and he felt stunned. His eyes went back and forth between what was on the floor and Meyer's impatient face. He managed to utter out, his voice caught a little, "Ii-is that your tho…"

On the floor by his foot was a tiny scrap of dark lace that matched the color of Meyer's dress and could only be a thong. When the hell had she taken them off and why hadn't he noticed it before? But his line of thinking was cut short abruptly and his stunned mind cruelly shaken into focus by the pair of hands that had suddenly clutched onto his shirt's collar and jerked him to a flushed face with intense eyes.

She snapped at him, full of fire and in a tone that demanded absolute obedience, "Yes, that's my thong on the floor. Now, be my illicit lover. When they barge into this room you had better be giving me a huge hickey on the neck and your hand in between my thighs better look like your giving me a hell of an orgasm. Everything else, just act it out. Come on, Francis, don't be such a pussy. You can't be that awkward a lover."