AN I don't own Avengers/Marvel of and of its characters! Sexual triggers and mentions of noncon, definitely M. Enjoy!


Clint woke with a start. Natasha was there, curling into his body like she didn't belong anywhere else. She smiled when she saw that his eyes were open.

"Natasha? What the fuck-how did you get in here? How did you get out?!" She just smiled, running her hand up his stomach to his chest and back down again.

"I was able to talk some sense into Bart. He wasn't going to just let me out-and I'm being a good girl, so I wasn't going to fight him-but he agreed to let me come see you." Above her, the man's mouth fell open in shock. He was beautiful, she realized, in an American way that she could appreciate, even if he wasn't really her type. He was… handsome, that was the word. His features were strong and defined like they'd been chiseled with war and the way the shadows played across his face made him seem otherworldly. His frostbitten eyes reminded her of something she couldn't quite place. He was quite attractive, actually. But now wasn't the time.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She made the smile stay on her lips, and rolled to press her body against his. With one hand she cupped his face. With the other, she moved much lower and cupped the obvious bulge in his boxers, making him moan. This was good. This was easy, this was what she was good at, this was what she did. You're not just a body people use for sex, Romanoff. Well, she was calling bullshit. He was just jealous, angry that other men got to claim her body when he didn't just because of some moral compass. But she was ready to smash that compass.

"Oh, don't sound so shocked. You knew we had a…. Connection." She didn't give him a chance to say anything to that-he was too good at arguing-she just pressed their lips together. She was good at kissing, and she knew that. She could read a situation and a target and kiss with just the right amount of force or accuracy to make him putty in her hands. With Clint, she was gentle, but not hesitant. He was still too much of a boyscout to want to take her without her consent, but that only meant he took a little more convincing.

She ran her tongue along his lower lip. He shuddered and immediately granted her access, but she moved her attention again to below his waist where she slipped into his boxers. She cupped him at first, and then began stroking him. He let out a moan into her mouth and she had to smile because this was easy-this was what she was good at. But just as quickly, he had a hand on her shoulder and was pushing her away.

"Natasha, stop." She pulled away with a little pout. He wanted her, she could see that very clearly and she knew she was attractive. But that pesky moral compass was getting in the way… He didn't think she wanted it. The hand still pushing her off of him was gentle and not at all controlling-he didn't really want her to leave-and she relaxed into his body before he could say anything else. She her hips into him and shook his hand off. He was pushing her for it, making her prove that she wanted this so he could have a clear conscious about it later, so she pushed back. She proved it. One hand in his hair, the other grabbing his ass, she kissed him again making her touch even more confident. But he pushed her away again.

"Nat, stop that." Now, she was confused. He wanted her, clearly, and his moral compass had been appeased so why the hell wasn't he jumping at the chance to fuck her? Even if he had a girlfriend or a wife or something, she'd never met a man who turned down an affair when it was offered to them, no matter when or where. Especially not with a nameless foreign girl they could make disappear with a snap of their fingers. Who the hell was this guy?

"But baby…" She made her voice low and sultry, dragging out the e sound at the end as she trailed her hand back down to his dick. He stifled a moan in her hair, almost collapsing into her at the touch. But he didn't kiss her. Maybe he didn't like kissing, was that her mistake? She switched tactics and attached her mouth to his chest, working down to his waistband before he tangled a hand in her hair and made her still.

"What's the matter, baby?" He groaned at her tone, and when she licked him through his boxers, but didn't let go of her hair.

"No, stop." She licked again, making him shudder, but he held firm. "I said no, Natasha." Did he really not want her? His dick clearly did but if his precious little boyscout code wasn't being violated then why did he keep pushing her away? Was she not his type?

"But I can do anything, baby, anything you want…" She pressed a kiss just above his waistband. "Just say the word, anything you want. I'm good at it too, I can make you feel so good baby you'll forget whatever is putting that frown on your face. Such beautiful lips… I just want to make them smile, baby." He was still, not pushing her away any further, so she took that as an invitation and moved back to suck and lick at his stomach, leaving little red marks in her wake. He shivered and arched into her, but he stayed still. He was too still. She stopped, looking up at him through her lashes the way she knew looked sexiest. Why was he so still? Was he holding his body so rigid because he wanted her to hold him down?

"Baby?" He was staring at the wall, frozen, but her voice startled him into looking at her.

He was crying.

"Oh, baby, don't cry. Tell me what will make you feel good." She reached up and kissed his cheeks where the tears had stained them, just for a moment, but he wouldn't look at her. She removed her hand from his dick for a second, trailing it up to wrap around his waist instead, but he wouldn't look at her.

It's because you're a whore.

She was, but he didn't know that yet. Besides, most men just pushed her around more or were more rough with her when they found out. They didn't cry. Why the fuck was he crying?!

"Come on, baby, just kiss me. Fuck me. You know it will make you feel better…" But he just sighed. Those ice blue eyes were so much sadder when they were filled with tears, she realized. They looked like pools of everything that had ever gone wrong in the world, welling up and just waiting to shatter anyone who looked into them. She swallowed hard and moved her hand back to his inner thigh.

"Please, baby, please just fuck me." She made her voice dip on the words, like she was begging. She was begging, that wasn't fake, but it made the sadness worse not better. Why did it hurt so much so look at that in his eyes!? She didn't like it. The longer she stayed in that room, the less she was starting to like him.

She thought he was going to sit there, still as a statue and crying, for hours. Honestly, she didn't expect him to ever move from that position again, even when she went back to playfully stroking him through his boxers. He was hard, but his face didn't change. Until, suddenly, his hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks and lifting her head to look up into his eyes. She swallowed hard again but let him. It was the first time he'd reached out to her at all and if this was what it took to get to him then she would do it. She waited, just waiting for his hands to guide her head back to his crotch or to press their lips together again. But he just sat there, holding her face in his hands. Crying.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered. The words tumbled out over his lips and shattered against her skin like shards of glass, slicing her open. She didn't react, though, she just nuzzled closer. The longer he sat there like that, the more she nuzzled into his palm and then carefully kissed it. Carefully, like he would hit her without any warning. With her eyes still locked on his, she parted her lips and sucked his pinky into her mouth, running her tongue around it in circles. His breath caught, but he stayed still. She sucked it a little harder, bobbing her head as much as his hands would allow to imitate a blow job, but he stayed still.

"Natasha, why are you doing this?" Ah, so it was that damn moral compass rearing its ugly head again. She swore internally. But, externally, she sucked a second finger into her mouth and gently scraped them with her teeth. He moaned, but stayed still. He was waiting for her to answer, she realized, and she let go of his fingers with a wet pop.

"I want to make you happy, baby." Her gut churned but she pushed it out of her mind. She'd gotten used to this years ago but it'd been a long time since someone had pushed her this hard, made her question it this much. The way he was looking at her made her feel… broken. Like that panic in her chest at his obvious displeasure wasn't natural, or like turning everything he said into some kind of opening to touch him wasn't normal. It wasn't normal, but it was her normal. So why did she feel like it was wrong the longer she looked at him?

"What's the matter, baby? You don't want me?" Her voice shook a little over the last few words and that wasn't intentional-but she tried to make it look like it was. He clearly wanted her, or at least his body did. But he was refusing her. If she couldn't satisfy him then how the hell was she supposed to get out of this place?! She needed him to sleep with her, to fuck her, to be pleased with her. But he stayed still.

Instead, those four words seemed to shatter him even more. He was still crying, holding her face in his hands and looking at her like he was saddened by what she was. But he was the one who said he knew her, said he understood. So why was he making this so difficult? It wasn't shameful, it wasn't horrible. It was a physical transaction-she pleased him sexually, he warmed up to her, and then she found a weakness to get out. Why wouldn't he just let her?!

"Natasha, sweetheart, please stop." The please made her hesitate, though she wasn't proud of it.

"What, you don't want me?" Again, her voice trembled over that question but he just sighed.

"Of course I do! I mean God you're so… Of course I want you, what man wouldn't? But not like this." Wait, what? The hell did he mean 'not like this'? Did he want her to fuck him or something?

"Oh, I get it. If you've got a dildo then I've got no complain-"

"No! God, Natasha no." She wanted to cry; he was looking at her like she didn't understand how broken she was. "I meant not like this. Not here, not now, and not for this reason. Natasha…" The way he said her name made her slump into his hands. He looked at her… he made her feel so fucking shameful just for doing her job because he looked at her like she was some perverted, broken little girl. Like he wanted to take care of her, or something. Who gave him the right to look at her like that!? He didn't know her. He didn't give a damn.

She turned her face to kiss his palm again but he pulled it away so fast she almost didn't touch it. Immediately, she flinched into the other hand at the absence. Sudden absence of a hand meant a strike was coming, and she knew it was best just to take it. So she flinched away from it, but didn't fight. He was mad that she did that, she knew that, but a part of her was glad he was going to hit her. This was what she was used to, what she could handle.

But he didn't touch her. When she looked up for his hand, surprised, it was limp at his side like he'd lost all feeling or control of it. What the hell? His face was twisted into a mask of hurt but she didn't understand. She hadn't done anything to him. But he still looked like he wanted to scream or maybe throw up and she wasn't sure which made her more uncomfortable. Why was he so upset?

"Natasha…" Her name with tears in it from his mouth was worse than a slap in the face. "Natasha, please. Just please sit up and let me talk to you for a second." She obeyed before he even finished talking. He wasn't normal. Normal meant beating her a bit or fucking her or yelling and storming away-that was normal, she could handle normal. But he was not normal and she had no fucking clue what he was doing, which terrified her. She was terrified to make him angry now. Now that he was unpredictable.

"Natasha," He started to reach out to take her hand but stopped himself. "Natasha, please know that I will never hurt you. I hate the way you just flinched away from me-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I won't do it again please let me make it up to you I'm sorry-" He stopped her with a single finger over her lips. He was crying again, and she wanted to apologize for that too. How the hell did she keep fucking this up!? She was supposed to be good at this!

"No, no not like that. Please, Nat, don't apologize for anything. I didn't it negatively, I didn't mean to stop doing it or apologize, I meant that I hate the reason behind it. I hate that you're used to people hitting you. I hate that you think I would hit you, and for no reason. But I'm not mad, okay? Please, stop looking so fucking terrified I'm not going to hurt you." She was crying. She had forced herself to cry thousands of times, for covers and because the situation called for it or even during torture. But she'd never cried because of words. Especially not from a man she barely knew, and who barely knew her. He didn't know that, though, and he didn't need to so she lied and told herself it was because he need to see vulnerability from her.

"Okay, I'm sorry." He tensed like he was going to say something but she flinched again and he just sighed. Right, she wasn't supposed to apologize. What kind of man didn't want her to apologize, though? Usually, they took pleasure in forcing her to apologize, often from the floor or with a cock in her mouth, and usually for something that wasn't even her fault. But he was telling her not to apologize?

"Nat, I'm not gonna hurt you. I know you don't believe me and that's fine, you have every right now to, but I'm gonna prove it to you. This isn't like the Red Room. I'm not just fuck you or hurt you because I feel like it-or for any reason, actually." She frowned. "I know you don't believe me. I know, it's okay. I have to earn that kind of trust from you and that's fine, I don't mind earning it. But know that I'm going to. I'm gonna prove to you that this different, that you can live-actually live-here and maybe even be happy. I'm gonna prove it."

She believed him. Those sad, tear-blue eyes were hard to argue with but she believed him even without looking into his eyes. People had said they would earn her trust before, though. She shook off those pesky emotions and resettled herself in her skin. People lied. He was lying, or at least he could be, and she had to remember that. People were liars, even pretty ones.

"I'm gonna prove it, Natasha."

Only time would tell.


Thanks for reading! Please review/comment/share it means the world to me and makes me want to write a lot more!