Author's Note - Rated MA.
Chapter Forty-Eight - Spies, Friends, Lovers
The wedding was a private affair, held at dusk in the gardens. Torches along the path and small, glowing orbs nestling in the surrounding trees lit the area as the guests assembled in their finest attire. Clint stood with Phil Coulson, King Odin and Maria Hill, tugging at his bow tie when Natasha came into view on Nick Fury's arm. She wore an off-the-shoulder gown of white silk with a full, billowy skirt and subtly trimmed in dark purple accents. She was a breathtaking paragon of beauty, grace and sensuality, commanding the attention of all present.
The torches lit up Natasha's features, reflecting in her eyes and hair as she passed off her bouquet of wildflowers to Maria and joined Clint in front of Odin. He took her hand, thinking he could see a hint of anxiety in her features, but a quick smile reassured him that it was anticipation she felt.
Odin's gaze swept over the crowd before he spoke in a strong, joyous voice. "This is the first time I've officiated over the joining of a man and woman born of Midgard. I am both pleased and honored to be asked to serve in this capacity for two such deserving and commendable people."
Clint had to force himself to breathe. He was getting married to an amazing woman while his sister and friends looked on, and one of the most powerful beings in the realms had just paid him an unexpected compliment.
Odin spoke for awhile about the sanctity of marriage and the unique bonds forged between a husband and wife. He insisted that a man and woman should never judge the quality of their marriage by the standards of others. "May your intentions be always to strengthen your connection to each other," the king advised, "for it is your mate that will be your best comfort, support and inspiration."
A long pause followed this speech, which sent a waking stir through the previously transfixed guests. Coulson slipped them the wedding bands then the king turned to Clint. "Do you, Clinton Francis Barton, choose this woman to be your wife and treasured companion, to have and hold always in highest esteem until death do you part?"
He took in a breath to bolster his courage and declared, "I do."
Natasha's eyes glistened with starting tears as she slipped the simple silver band onto his finger.
"Natalia Alianova Romanova," Odin continued, "do you choose this man to be your husband and treasured companion, to have and hold always in highest esteem until separated by death?"
Natasha gave an enthusiastic nod. "I do," she said, grinning and sniffling at once as Clint put the identical ring on her delicate finger.
"Then I, Odin Borson, King of Asgard and All-Father of the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil, pronounce you husband and wife."
That was the last thing Clint heard before snatching Natasha up in his arms. Her feet weren't even touching the ground as they kissed and clung to each other with a rampant passion that carried on long enough to elicit whistles and excessive whooping from Clint's Hellhounds.
Eventually, they lost steam, relaxing in each other's embrace and breaking the lip lock. "Wow," Natasha muttered, panting as she rested her forehead on Clint's. "I think we needed that."
Clint agreed, chuckling as he tore his gaze away to acknowledge the still clapping guests. He set her down with care then took her hand again to move down the path, collecting their friends as they migrated back to the palace.
The reception convened in an immense hall. Dozens of long, banquet tables laden with both Asgardian and Midgardian delicacies occupied more than half of the room. The other section had been cleared to allow space for the musicians, mingling and dancing. More of the luminescent spheres hung from the vaulted ceiling, which highlighted the purple and white centerpieces and draperies.
Most of the people in attendance were strangers to Clint and Natasha. It was obvious that their celebration was being used as an excuse by the realm representatives and Asgard's wealthy and influential to campaign their own causes in a relaxed atmosphere. At least the newlyweds were not expected to cater to these individuals other than to shake hands and accept any offered congratulations.
Keeping close to their own people gave the couple a natural buffer from the crowds. They happily ate and drank while regaled by epic tales of love, loss and triumph. Coulson's crew piloted drones around the guests to take pictures and capture footage of the event. Clint couldn't recall a merrier gathering of new and old friends. Even Cami and Loki seemed content, cuddled together and conspiring in whispers.
At one point, the orchestra started a new melody, and Cami pushed to her feet, declaring the piece waltz-appropriate and headed for the dance floor with Loki and at least a third of their collective in tow.
"She's in good spirits," Clint mentioned to Natasha.
"Frigga gave her something to curb the nausea. She also had the royal treatment from the girls while we got ready."
"Kind of you to share the spotlight."
With a thoughtful shrug, Natasha said, "She needed it."
Clint was watching the dancers and afterwards as their people passed through the crowds to return to the table. He noticed when Loki's smile dissolved and he came to a sudden halt a few strides from his chair. Natasha's hand gripped Clint's arm and he turned her way noting that she also stared down between the tables at an apprehensive Odin walking beside Rosner and a bulky, determined Dwarf. There was also a fourth man with them keeping out of view behind the king's broader frame.
"Ogalfus," Natasha uttered.
Tony asked across the table, "That's the bozo you put in an armlock?"
"Yeah."
"He looks smug as hell," Bruce added.
Natasha agreed. "I bet he's going to make a scene."
Clint cursed. "Rosner told me that Ogalfus wants a public apology from you and Odin."
Pepper's mouth fell open and features paled in genuine horror. "He's pulling this at your wedding?"
"Whatever," Natasha said with a shrug. "I'll just suck it up and apologize."
I don't think so, Clint thought, standing to meet them. He forced a pleasant smile as he stepped around his chair and into the aisle. "Good evening gentlemen."
The conversations nearest to them silenced and people shifted in their seats to watch. Loki and Cami drew up behind him, keeping quiet.
"This is Agent Clint Barton," Odin said to the Dwarf. Then to Clint he confirmed, "This is High Advisor Ogalfus."
A title and gaudy, bejeweled robes didn't impress Clint. He made the quick decision to play it cool and see if he could work the situation to downplay tension and avoid Natasha having to humiliate herself. He grabbed the Dwarf's pudgy hand, giving it a vigorous shake. "It's an honor to meet you, High Advisor. Not many men come away from a disagreement with Natasha unscathed. You must have made quite an impression on her."
Yes, he was being sarcastic, but he delivered the words in a fashion that Ogalfus wasn't certain how to react.
"Impressive," Steve said, sounding sincere as he played along. "You do know she's a master assassin, right?"
Before Ogalfus could respond, Tony stood, opening up his shirt to reveal the scarring on his chest from the removal of his arc reactor. "She did this to me—and I'm considered one of the luckier guys. Hey Loki, give him a peek at what she did to you."
Clint fought to control his building mirth as Loki stepped around him. He pulled off his tuxedo coat and unbuttoned his shirt sleeve to allow a quick glimpse at the layers of thick, unsightly scars on his forearm.
Next Tony turned to Thor. "Show him yours," he prodded then pretended to change his mind when the God of Thunder looked quizzically back at him. "Never mind. People are trying to eat. We don't want anyone getting sick."
The Dwarf's eyes went wide. His gaze tracked Natasha as she rose gracefully to her feet. Even without her heels, she would be taller than him. She donned her poker face. So, Clint had absolutely no idea what she planned to do.
Odin stiffened and Rosner fidgeted in the prolonged silence.
After some consideration, Natasha said with civility, "I apologize, High Advisor, for treating you in such a lowly manner. Next time you challenge my abilities, I will be respectful enough to leave a mark worthy of your position."
Ogalfus looked befuddled as pink flushed his plump features and sweat shown on his forehead and around the edges of his bushy beard.
"I also apologize," Odin said. "Clearly you and Lady Natasha weren't properly introduced at your first meeting."
"Clearly," the Dwarf stammered. He offered forced congratulations and hurried away through the gaping spectators.
The group settled back around the table, stifling laughter.
Loki and Cami did not sit. They froze as the other man, tall and lean with simplistic brown and red garments, stepped forward between Odin and Rosner. Though his long hair wasn't quite as dark and he had a thin goatee and pale blue eyes, his resemblance to Loki was undeniable.
"What are you doing here?" Loki asked in a low, unnerved tone.
"I was summoned for the trial," the man answered flatly, his expression cold.
Odin rushed to explain. He looked regretful as he took in the group, which included some of his own people. "The realms have demanded the right to try Jahla and the double for war crimes. The proceedings will be closed, but we are all to testify at their behest."
"Then you're not presiding," Loki guessed.
"No. A panel of judges will be appointed by the Realms Assembly. Guilt and punishment will be decided by a majority vote."
Clint's attention shifted between the men. He asked Loki, "Who is this?"
Loki straightened, trying to collect himself. "He is my eldest son."
"Vali is an accomplished justicer in the courts of Vanaheim," Odin said. "He will make certain that all laws and court procedures are followed during the trial. Also, he has the unique gift to sense when someone is lying."
No one at the table spoke because they didn't know what to say in light of their theatrics with Ogalfus.
Vali commented, his tone biting, "You're very clever and protective of each other. I don't suggest using such deceitful tactics with the judges. I won't be amused or forgiving."
Then the justicer and spymaster turned and strode off.
"Remind me not to invite that guy to poker night," Kotter said to Stott and Ward as he picked up the pitcher and began refilling their drinks.
Loki gave a loud sigh and his frame slouched. "My son hates me."
Cami gently pushed Loki onto his chair, sat on his lap and gifted kisses to the side of his face.
"Isn't Vali too biased to be involved?" Fandral asked.
"Vali will do his job with honor and fairness," Thor insisted.
Odin agreed. "He has worked hard to build up his reputation. His appointment is the most encouraging thing we've heard about this trial so far."
Clint tensed as Fury, Hill, Coulson and May joined their group. "I assume," the director said, "that you've all heard the news."
"Indeed, they have," the king confirmed.
"Looks like we're not going anywhere. By order of the Realms Assembly, we are to remain in Asgard until it is decided that we are no longer needed."
Bruce shook his head, his features scrunched with annoyance. "Are they really planning to question every single one of us?"
"That is the right of the court," Odin explained. "The matter would be much simpler if there weren't so many worlds involved."
"It's going to be a circus," Steve guessed, looking troubled.
"And," Loki interjected, "Bad Loki is going to love every moment of it."
"Get some rest," Fury ordered. "I want all active personnel up early and ready to work. If we're stuck here for a while, we might as well put some efforts into restoring the command center." He looked to Clint and Natasha. "I'm sorry, but Santorini is going to have to wait."
"I kinda figured," Clint said, seeking out Natasha's hand under the table to give it a squeeze because she was stiff and staring at her plate.
"Well, I guess the party's over," Mike Hopper said, rising from his chair. Kotter, Stott and Dr. Lloyd went with him to round up the other Hellhounds and pass along the orders.
Coulson signaled his own people, who rushed to collect their things and walk out with him and May.
Odin turned to Sif and the Warriors Three. "Queen Farbauti and her attendants arrive tomorrow," he told them. "I need you four to work with Frigga and Rosner to insure that the Jotun are comfortable and escorted at all times."
"Yes, your majesty," they answered in chorus and abandoned their seats. Volstagg grabbed an entire tray of barbecued prime rib then shuffled out with them and Odin.
Nick focused on Cami. "I want to talk to you," he said in a reasonably respectful tone.
Cami stood, quick to show her anger. "I don't want to hear it, Nick—and you can't order me to listen." Then in a blink, she was gone, though Clint felt her brush against his side as she moved away.
Looking both hurt and pissed, Nick wished a good night to those that remained at the table. He and Maria departed together, though not before Clint noticed the judgmental glower from Maria at Cami's exit.
"Poor thing," Pepper said, nestling closer to Tony as the rest of the group shifted to fill the empty chairs. "Why won't they reinstate her?"
Jane spoke up. "We wouldn't have stabilized those systems in time without Cami."
"Or breached the double's shield," Loki added.
"This situation hurts because we all like Cami," Bruce said, "but the truth is, she hasn't learned to control her powers. She can only get so far on good luck spells."
"She needs time and training," Natasha said, "two things S.H.I.E.L.D. can't effectively give her."
"What about support?" Steve tossed out. "What happens when we all go back to Earth and leave her here alone?"
Thor took offense to the question. "She has friends here. She's family—" he said, his eyes shifting to Loki, "almost."
Everyone quieted, yet their stares settled on Clint as if they expected him to offer some new insight. What could he say? Shit happens. Life sucks sometimes. Bartons rarely have it easy.
"I think I'm getting a headache," Clint complained, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand.
"Maybe you should go to bed," Steve suggested.
"Yeah," Tony jumped in. "Don't you two have some debriefing to do?"
Low, guilty chuckles broke out along the table.
Pepper gave Tony a nudge, declaring, "You're indecent."
"Someone had to say it." Tony sipped his drink, watching the newlyweds over the rim of the glass. "Seriously—go. I'll expect a full report in the morning. Try not to hurt yourselves."
Clint felt more amused than irritated as the soft laughter continued. He got up, pulling out Natasha's chair and helping her onto her feet.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has probably bugged their room," Bruce added with a hint of exasperation before calming enough to wish them a good night, which prompted everyone to follow suit.
Loki walked out with them, stopping Clint in the corridor to push a pink and green, bell-shaped fruit into his hand.
"What's this?"
"Rose apple," Loki said with a sly, guarded tone. "Consider it an aphrodisiac of sorts."
"Loki, I think you're too concerned with my sex life."
Loki backed up, his expression playful. "I'm not at all concerned, just meddling a bit." Then he blinked away, leaving Clint to explain the odd gift to Natasha.
"How thoughtful," she quipped.
"And awkward."
"I'm sure he means well." She took the rose apple from him, gave it an experimental squeeze then held it to her nose. "It smells good."
Clint took a whiff when she held it under his nose. "Like a rose," he affirmed. It was a pleasing scent he had come to associate with being close to Natasha because those moments were when he could best smell her similar perfume.
They started out again, but a few paces later, Natasha halted with a groan, grabbed onto his arm for support and stepped out of her high heels. "My toes can't take another moment of these shoes."
Clint swept her up into his arms, choosing to forsake her troublesome footwear as he carried her off.
Natasha wrapped her arms around his neck. "I can't decide if you're being chivalrous, romantic or impatient right now."
"Knowing me, it could be any or all of those options."
Several people in the halls acknowledged them, either offering well wishes or asking if the couple needed assistance. Each encounter escalated Clint's urgency to reach their destination and have Natasha all to himself. He was relieved when they reached the room and slipped inside.
He had a good grip on her and an enticing view down the bodice of her dress if he leaned in just right. Her perfume invaded his nostrils and ensnared his senses to the point that nothing existed but her.
She touched his face, turning his head so he met her keen and penetrating gaze, which captivated and utterly disarmed him. He wanted to be submerged in those glistening pools of green, lose himself in the currents of her wit and charm.
Natasha broke the spell, suggesting with reassurance, "You can let me down."
Clint realized he'd unnerved her with his enthralled behavior. He blinked and gave his head a shake to kickstart his brain's processes. "Sorry," he muttered and complied.
Rolling the rose apple from one hand to the other, Natasha went to her gear to pull out one of her daggers. She cut a wedge out of the fruit and sampled it before sauntering over to pop the rest into his mouth. It was crisp, yet sweeter than he'd expected.
Natasha pushed up on her toes to seductively lick the juice that dribbled down his chin. She cut another wedge and placed it between her teeth. The sparkle in her eyes told him to 'come and get it.'
Mindful of the knife, Clint gripped her wrists, wrapped her hands behind her back and held them there. He leaned down, first planting a kiss onto her forehead then moved lower, his lips gliding down the soft skin between her eyes and along the side of her nose. He opened his mouth, setting his teeth around the end of the fruit then bit through it as his lips came to rest against hers.
She held the kiss for a moment before pulling out of his grip and turning toward the bed. She set the dagger and remaining apple on the nightstand, freeing her hands to reach back and unzip her dress, which she pushed down off her shoulders and hips to reveal a lacy, white bra and matching underwear.
Clint removed his tie and shrugged off his tuxedo jacket, letting both fall. He followed to the bedside, placing his hands at her shoulders and burying his face in her curls. He stooped to press his mouth to her neck, discovering a spot where she'd applied her perfume. The rose scent spiked his senses again and his mouth began to water with anticipation. He laid a trail of wet kisses to her shoulder that caused her to tremble.
Natasha turned in his embrace to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers slipped past the material to caress and scratch at his chest. They were loving, explorative touches, yet Clint could sense something from her, a hesitation that surprised him.
"I have our condoms, but…" The firelight reflected in her eyes as she glanced up. "I'd prefer not to use them."
Clint took a hold of her waist, pondering her words while keeping his expression as relaxed as he could. She wasn't a reckless person. Even her split-second decisions proved somewhat methodical. So, Natasha was basically informing him that she wanted to get pregnant, but still offered him the chance to insist on the condoms.
With care, he scooped her up and held her close. Her legs and arms wrapped around him, and she nuzzled into his shoulder. Sensing that she waited for a verbal response, he dotted the side of her neck with kisses that migrated up to her ear. "Alright. If you're sure."
She sat back, shifting the majority of her weight onto his arms as her hands slipped down his front and between her thighs to invade his pants.
He admired the intense longing in her eyes, the pink flush on her skin and the swell of her breasts. Gripping her ass, Clint bucked his hips to push his penis into her hand. Natasha's fingers skillfully stroked the sensitive shaft then sought out his mouth again for some frantic lip and tongue action.
Her grip became more firm and possessive as she pressed his bulk against her heat. For a moment Clint felt the resistance of her underwear, but she pushed the material aside with her hand.
Clint realized that this first time wouldn't be slow or gentle. He had wanted to be with her for so long that finally reaching this moment overwhelmed his restraint. He thrust into her tissues with a low growl, tensing with instant pleasure at the encompassing warmth of her womb.
Natasha gasped and groaned in turn, clinging to him as he pressed her against a dark tapestry that hung on the stone wall next to the bedside table. His initial strokes were long and steady, but he didn't have the patience to maintain that rhythm. The thrusts progressed into smaller, fiercer poundings that rattled Natasha's petite frame and pushed Clint ever closer to release.
She yelled his name more than once, her tone begging for more, which he eagerly obliged. She slipped her right hand down between them to rub and slap at her clitoris. Her chest heaved with each gasping breath and escaping whimper. Then she dug her heels into his back and let out a loud moan.
The strong spasms of her inner walls sent Clint over the edge. He gave one final desperate thrust. His mind and body seized, his breath caught and he exploded, filling her with his seed and, in his mind, claiming her as his forever love and soulmate.
They stilled in the aftermath, exhausted and trying to catch their breaths. Natasha leaned forward, once again holding him around the neck. Clint felt drunk on sensation, memories and the mingling aromas of roses, sex and sweat. He didn't dare move or speak for fear the moment would end too quickly.
She let him have the time while resting her head on his shoulder.
When they'd caught their breath, Clint moved to the bed to lay her out. He unhooked her bra and tugged off her drenched panties to take in her immeasurable beauty. Then casting away his own clothes, Clint joined her. He rested on his side, supporting himself with the right arm while caressing her smooth, creamy skin with the left hand. He cupped a breast, pressing his palm against the supple pink nipple. She had a handful, and he proudly said so.
Natasha smirked, reaching out to run her fingers along the top of his length. "I'm not the only one."
"I'll be gentler next time," he promised, feeling a twinge of guilt.
"You think in all these years of running missions together I didn't peek once or twice? Believe me, I knew what I was getting into."
"I feel so violated," he teased and chuckled. Clint shifted position so he could rest his head on her chest and listen to the calming thump of her heart. This caused his feet to dangle off the edge of the bed, but he didn't care.
Natasha's fingers skimmed sensually over his skin and up into his hair. She warned, "Don't fall asleep."
He insisted, "I'm trying not to."
She retrieved the dagger to slice up more of the rose apple. He looked up and let her feed him a chunk of the juicy goodness, which took more effort to chew than he expected.
She studied his weary state while she munched. "We're not done yet."
"Well," he said with another laugh, "these things take time."
Natasha returned the dagger and remaining apple to the nightstand before flipping him over to eagerly straddle him. Her look was both sultry and dangerous as she leaned close, taking hold of his wrists and positioning his arms so they were up with his head and out of the way.
"I accept that challenge."
She crawled backwards, settling on her knees between his legs with her gaze focused on his genitals. "Is there anything you'd like to say before we begin, Hawkeye?"
It took him a few moments to realize the game she proposed. Clint wasn't sure if this pseudo-interrogation roleplay made him more curious or afraid. At least there were no restraints involved because who knew how fucked up that would get with a dagger resting not two feet away.
After some quick contemplation, Clint decided to play the part of the macho guy. "Do whatever you want, Black Widow. I won't break."
Her brilliant green eyes narrowed and a knowing smirk curled her lip as she responded in a ridiculously-thick Russian accent, "I vill get vhat I vant out of z-you."
Nice choice of words, he thought with building mirth and cupped his hands under his head. Of course, he realized that she was being over-the-top on purpose to keep things light and playful.
Natasha's hands settled on his thighs. Her fingertips glided across his flesh, awakening the nerve endings all the way to his pelvis. Then she pursed her lips and blew on the area, which made the skin tense.
Damn, she's good.
"Z-you look vorried," she said, acting smug.
"I admit, you have me at a disadvantage—you being so beautiful."
"Z-your reputation precedes z-you, Hawkeye. To catch zeh best, zey sent zeh best."
"I'm flattered, but determined to resist your tactics."
"Fine." She eased onto her stomach, putting her very close to his nethers and began kissing and licking the insides of his thighs, which obviously caused blood to flow in the general direction of her intended target.
Fighting to hold down the sounds of appreciation building at the back of his throat, Clint tried to think of things that generally bored him like paperwork, stamp collecting, weather reports or even watching paint dry, but found he couldn't focus on a single one of them with Natasha's efforts. So, he turned to plan B: sticking his thumb in his mouth and biting down as hard as he could manage, which hurt like hell and momentarily blacked out his vision.
When his sight returned, Clint found Natasha peering up over his junk and shaking her head with exasperation. "Desperate move," she acknowledged, still in character.
"Yeah." Clint groaned, rubbing at his thumb. "Definitely ill-conceived."
"I'm afraid z-you leave me no choice zen."
Natasha took his member into her mouth applying some suction and fervent, tantalizing tongue action that made his toes curl with delight. She also applied pressure with her hands to his inner thighs, encouraging him to open up for her. Then she pressed a slick finger to his rectum and began massaging the muscles there, which was a new sensation for him.
"Nat," he uttered, uncertain if he wanted her to stop or just tread carefully.
She released his engorged penis long enough to inquire if he was surrendering. Meanwhile she pushed her finger a little more insistently against his secret passageway.
He wasn't a prude or anything, just ready to shed the roleplay and make mad-passionate love to his wife. He hooked his arms around her torso and executed a skillful and cautious heft-and-roll maneuver that ended with him on top of her in the middle of the bed with his raging hard-on poised to invade her private lair.
"Looks like you're my prisoner now, Black Widow."
His red-haired beauty suppressed a smile. "What are you going to do with me?"
Clint could have pointed out that she'd lost her accent, but went with it. "I could interrogate and kill you, but that's a waste of a good operative. Maybe we should negotiate some sort of a partnership."
"I'm open to the possibility." Her eyes were bright and adoring as she taunted, "Show me what you got."
He took care as he eased through her opening, watching her features for any signs of discomfort. Natasha had more control on the bed, lifting her hips to give encouraging nudges as they worked out the positioning to find a slow, comfortable rhythm.
Clint caught the soft hitch in her breathing when he pushed deep against her cervix and purposely repositioned so he could apply even more pressure to the spot. Natasha's head tilted back and eyes closed. In time, her legs closed around, forcing him to shorten his strokes. That's when they picked up the pace, and soon both Clint and Natasha panted and moaned from the amazing sensations.
Clint tried to fend off his own release, but it was becoming less possible with each passing moment. Then inspiration struck. He shifted his weight more onto his knees so he could let go of her leg. This freed up his left hand, which he then used to apply direct pressure to her clitoris.
Natasha tensed, screaming and shaking violently as a string of powerful orgasms overwhelmed her system.
Clint managed to ride out a few more energetic bucks before he exploded. Then he collapsed, spent and trembling into the embrace of his loving wife, who offered an understanding smile and soothing caresses when he declared that he was done for the night.
They climbed under the blankets, resting flesh to flesh. The content and exhausted Clint barely registered Natasha's kiss on his temple as he drifted off to sleep.