A/N Return of the smutty smut smut! If you're a bit mixed up with the storyline, check that you read Chapter 31 – 31 and 31a were both posted yesterday and you might have skipped one by mistake

Chapter Thirty-Two – Hurt You

Jen was a little bit nervous about stripping for Hawk – it wasn't something she'd ever done before – but the look on his face told her that pretty much anything she might do that involved her getting naked would be fine in his book. She walked across the room away from him, deliberately putting a little extra swing in her hips, and stopped at her stereo. She put her flashy new Starkphone – her old iPhone hadn't survived a day after meeting Tony – into the dock and selected a playlist she'd made for Hawk.

A moment later music filled the room, and she nodded to herself, dimmed the lights, and walked back towards the man on the couch. He sat waiting for her, nude, clearly aroused and totally unself-conscious about it.

Jen stopped in front of Clint and turned to face away from him. Deliberately, she bent over to unzip her boots, and heard his indrawn breath as she pretty much stuck her butt in his face. His hands landed on her hips, and she straightened up, turning around, shaking her finger at him.

"No grabbing, Hawk. I'll tell you when you're allowed to touch." For a moment she thought he was going to protest and just pull her into his arms, but then he sighed and tucked his hands under his thighs.

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"

She smiled, turning around again. "That would spoil all the fun."

"Bet it wouldn't," he muttered.

"Shush and enjoy it." Barefoot now, she turned back to him, nudged his knees apart and stood between them. "What would you like me to show you next, hero?"

"Take your hair down for me, darlin'," he said huskily, surprising her. She smiled, pulled the tie from the end of the braid, and unwound it slowly, shaking the long, wavy strands loose, massaging her scalp lightly and leaning forward so her hair tumbled over his shoulder and against his chest. "I love your hair," he muttered throatily, rubbing his face against it. "Please don't ever cut it short."

Jen smiled, tossing her hair back to fall down her back. "Not it you don't want me to." Her jacket was already unbuttoned, but she eased it slowly back over her shoulders and down her arms before dropping it to the floor. Clint followed every movement with his eyes, though his hands stayed firmly planted. His lips were slightly parted, and he licked them as she crossed her hands at the hem of her shirt. She moved slowly to lift the top up, one tantalising inch at a time, and pulled it off over her head slowly, shaking her hair free of it and throwing it after her jacket.

"Damn, you do have some nice lingerie," Clint murmured, feasting his eyes. The bra this time was a push-up, dark green satin, lifting her breasts temptingly towards his mouth. He leant forward eagerly and she laid her finger on his nose.

"No hands and no mouth. Until I tell you."

He snapped teasingly at her finger, and she grinned. "You can bite me later." Stepping back from him a little, she unfastened her jeans.

"And don't throw those jeans away ever," Clint muttered. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as she eased the tight jeans down over her thighs, revealing thong panties that matched the green satin bra. Jen shimmied out of the jeans completely, and he was totally unaware that he was actually straining like a dog at a leash to get to her, his hands pinned under his legs by willpower alone.

Jen saw the need on Clint's face, and, taking pity on him, she turned sideways and seated herself lightly on his knee. "I think it would be all right if you touched me now," she whispered into his ear.

"Oh God, thank you," and his arms came around her hard, dragging her against him. "You're so fucking sexy," he muttered, just before his mouth crashed down on hers.

Jen kissed him back eagerly. He always tasted so good, uniquely himself, and his mouth was hot and demanding, his kisses making her tremble inside. His hands were on her breasts, finding the front catch of the bra and popping it free, then moulding and plumping them in his big hands, teasing her pouting nipples until she moaned deep in her throat. Her own hands weren't idle, stroking at his powerful shoulders, caressing his neck, scratching lightly over massive pectoral muscles. He liked to be scratched, she decided as she felt him shudder, liked a little pain with his pleasure. So she pulled her mouth free of his and ran her lips down his strong throat until she found the soft spot just above his collarbone – and bit him hard.

"Fuck yeah!" Clint's hips jerked upwards, but his hands didn't cease their movements on her breasts. Jen selected another spot just below his ear and sucked on it, using her teeth to nip at him, hearing his breathing become increasingly ragged.

"You like that, Hawk?" she whispered, nibbling at his earlobe.

"Yeah," he moaned it as she scratched deliberately at his shoulders. Her nails were a little longer than usual – long nails were impractical with her work, but she hadn't had time to cut them for a few days – and Jen thought that she would keep them a little bit longer, if Hawk liked a bit of pain. His reactions to what she was doing were certainly pleasing. He was fiercely aroused, she could feel him against her hip, a little wet where a drop of pre-cum was leaking from his tip. She put her hand down and dragged her fingertips across the thick, swollen head, spreading moisture downwards, and heard a low groan rumble deep in his chest.

"Jen," Clint mumbled, barely able to think. "Do you – do you want me to get a condom?" He plucked at her panties, drawing them down her thighs. She moved to let him take them off, dropping them to the floor and kicking them away.

"No," she said quietly, reaching to kiss him again. "No, we don't need one."

"You sure?" he forced his eyes open and looked at her. She gave him that quirky little smile of hers, and moved, pushing his knees together and straddling him.

"I'm sure."

She was already wet for him. Her panties had been damn near soaked, and now they were gone he could feel her cleft moist against him as she ground herself lightly against his shaft. He tried to put his hand on her, to stroke her, but she took his hand and put it on her hip.

"There," she whispered, grabbing his other hand and putting it on the opposite hip. "Hold me there, Hawk." And she took his cock in her own hands, lifting her hips and easing herself down on him.

"Oh, fuuuuck," Clint threw his head back against the couch, his eyes closed, teeth clenched. Hanging on to Jen like this, it would have been so easy just to grip hard and hammer up into her, but despite her wetness she was So. Damn. Tight. So wet and just so incredible without that thin latex barrier between them, an order of magnitude more sensation overwhelming his senses entirely.

He was unaware that he was hanging on to her hips hard enough that his fingertips would leave bruises, but right then so was Jen. Finally she had him fully inside her and settled her butt lightly on his thighs, leaning forward to stroke her breasts against his chest, nibbling his earlobe again.

"Did you know," she murmured in his ear, in an apparent non-sequitur, "that I grew up on a farm?"

"Huh? No," he mumbled, bemused.

"With horses."

"Wh…" and then he realised what she meant, as she flexed her thighs and began to move against him, riding him at a fast trot, her hands on his shoulders, fingertips digging in firmly.

He was gonna go off without pleasuring her again if he didn't do something quickly, so he tipped her back suddenly, disrupting her rhythm, one arm coming up behind her back to hold her, and seized a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. The other hand dropped in between them, fingers rubbing at her clit, circling and chafing. Jen moaned, trying to ride him still, but the sensations he was creating made it impossible for her to concentrate and she could only jerk against him disjointedly.

Clint rocked his own hips against Jen, feeling her begin to tremble. He let her nipple out of his mouth and kissed up her throat. "I'm close, Jen, come with me," he breathed against her ear. "Let me feel you. You get so tight when you come. I want to feel you…"

"Oh, Hawwwwk…" she called out for him in one long, drawn-out scream, and he groaned and bucked his hips as a ripple of contractions inside her dragged him over the edge.

They cried out, straining together, for endless, glorious moments, and then Jen slowly collapsed against Clint, laying her head on his shoulder. He folded his arms around her and held her against him, still breathing hard, his mind all but blank.

"No wonder you fell in love with me, if it's been like that for you since the first time," Jen mumbled after a minute. "I thought you were pretty amazing before but that…"

"Let me see your eyes," he asked softly, wondering what change would come across them. They hadn't really known to look at his between the first and second times.

Jen lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were still just as blue, but now there were tiny silver flecks floating in them, radiating out from the pupil.

"Pretty," he murmured, "you've got little silver flecks in your eyes."

She smiled, but she was looking down at his ribs. He looked down too, to see her fingers tracing over the three old bullet scars. They were definitely fading, the white skin flatter and less ridged. Some of his other scars were smaller too, the more recent ones no longer red-edged.

"I want to hear the stories of these, in case they disappear," Jen said, tracing her fingers over a few scars, before nestling her head on his shoulder again. "That is, if you don't mind telling me?"

"I don't mind. Those three are bullet holes are from when Natasha shot me in Budapest…"

A/N Soundtrack for this chapter:

Angel In Blue Jeans: Train

Halfway Gone: Lifehouse

The Edge Of Glory: Lady GaGa

Sorry. Couldn't resist the Budapest reference!