That Accent Is Definitely A Superpower, Part 3

I got asked for more Clint/Wanda, so the smut in latter part of this chapter is going to focus on the two of them.

"Did you pick a day yet?"

"Say what?" Pietro lowered the tablet he was playing with. Stark still couldn't make one fast enough for him, though this latest effort was getting there.

"I said," Tony pushed himself out from under the machine he was working on, grinning upside-down at Pietro, "did you pick a day yet?"

"For what?"

"For your and Spooky's birthday. I'm voting for International Beer Day."

"There is not an International Beer Day. You're making that up."

"August first. Look it up," Tony nodded at the tablet before sliding back under the machine. "Better get with Spooky and make your mind up, Speedy. Before Darcy erupts with impatience. She's just dyin' to throw you two a party." His voice was muffled.

"And stop calling us Spooky and Speedy," Pietro said as an afterthought.

"Glinda and Cheetah?"

"That's possibly worse."

Pietro headed off to look for Wanda. He'd checked half a dozen places before it occurred to him to ask JARVIS. He still wasn't quite used to the AI being omnipresent in the Tower.

"Miss Maximoff is in the shooting range with Mr Barton, sir," JARVIS said politely.

"Oh. Are they doing anything I wouldn't want to see?" he asked warily.

"Not at this time, sir."

"Then you'd better take me straight there before they start up." He could swear the AI's voice was amused as the elevator started to move.

Pietro found Wanda sitting cross legged on a counter at the back of the shooting range, watching Clint shoot. The archer was good, Pietro had to admit, never missing any of the holographic targets JARVIS created for him, no matter how tricky the shot. Wanda was sitting with her chin in her hands, watching with apparent fascination. Pietro boosted himself up to the counter to sit beside her, and she leaned against him almost unconsciously. He put his arm around her shoulders, feeling with pleasure the way she no longer felt so frail, like a baby bird. Regular, healthy food and Barton's love and care really were doing wonders for her.

For a long moment they sat comfortably together, not needing to fill the silence with words. And then Wanda tilted her head slightly, pressed her fingers against his knee.

"It's Darcy," Pietro answered the unspoken question. "She's upset that we don't have a birthday. Wants to have a party for us. We should choose a day."

Wanda smiled.

"I am not wrapped around her little finger! Oh hell, all right, yes I am," he muttered when one delicate eyebrow twitched.

It was a very private smile as Wanda's eyes slid back to Clint.

"And you can stop it with the female solidarity. You're supposed to be on my side, not rejoicing that I've turned into a slave to Darcy's every whim."

Finally, Wanda spoke. "You said it, not me."

Pietro groaned and put his free hand over his face. Wanda chuckled and nudged him gently in the ribs. "I'm happy for you. Truly. She's a good person, Pietro, you're lucky."

They sat quietly for a few more moments, and then Wanda said, "I don't mind, Pietro. Did you have a day in mind?"

He shook his head. "Stark suggested International Beer Day. Yes, there is such a holiday," when she lifted a brow at him. "He challenged me to look, so I did, and I came across this website – there's a day for everything, it seems like. Just an excuse to celebrate something on any given day of the year."

Wanda smiled. "So what appealed to you?"

"June 29th."

"Dare I ask?"

He smiled, turned his head and kissed her brow. "It's Hug Holiday."

"You utter sap." But she leaned into him a little closer. They'd both been starved of touch too long, imprisoned in their glass-walled cells by HYDRA's torturer-scientists. Affectionate touch was something they both treasured, and of their fellow Avengers, only Thor and Sam were really comfortable with platonic touch. Pepper was surprisingly generous with hugs, but it was Darcy who both of them turned to most frequently when they felt the need for human touch, and she was unsparing in her affection, quite willing to dish out hugs even unasked.

The snap of Clint's bowstring had fallen silent, and Pietro looked up to find the archer walking back towards them, smiling slightly. He returned the smile a little hesitantly, gently lowering his arm from around Wanda as Clint reached them. The smile on his sister's face was absolutely breathtaking as she scrambled off the bench and moved into Clint's arms.

"I'll leave you two alone," Pietro decided hastily as he saw Wanda's hands slide down to grasp Clint's butt. He'd already overheard one (one too many) giggled conversation between Wanda and Darcy about the merits of Hawkeye's posterior.

"Catch you later, Quickie," Clint said tauntingly.

"Only quick when I need to be, Katniss," Pietro bolted for the door as he heard Clint unzip Wanda's jacket.

"He's still not dealing real well with you and me, is he, honey?" Clint murmured against Wanda's hair as she leaned against him, her cheek on his chest.

"He's doing better than I could have expected, actually," she smiled up at him, and as always he was knocked sideways by the impact of just how beautiful she was. "I think he's realised just how hypocritical he's being about not wanting me to sleep with you, considering that he's busy banging Darcy's brains out at every opportunity."

Clint sighed, running his fingers into her silky dark hair. "Mm. Though there isn't a fifteen year age gap between him and Darce."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't care that you're older than me?" She reached up to kiss him softly. "You know that saying, you're only as old as the woman you feel?"

He arched his eyebrows at her. "In my case, I think that could be adapted to you're only as old as the woman you love makes you feel."

"Uh, what?" she blinked innocently at him.

"Don't you dare. I know very well you've been using your spooky voodoo hexes on me."

"I wouldn't do that." Another innocent blink.

"Wanda. My left knee has been sore for the last nine years, ever since I took a bullet through it in Budapest. Miraculously, in the last fortnight, it's stopped hurting. It actually took me a while to notice, though. It's not the only ache and pain of middle age that's strangely faded out, either."

She crumbled at his knowing look. "I just don't want you to be in pain," she whispered, burying her face in his neck. "Not when I could do something about it. I love you too much to see you hurting, Clint…"

"I'm not complaining, darlin'," he stroked her hair gently. "I'm just sayin' that you shouldn't have been doin' it behind my back. I'm grateful, not mad."

"You – are?" she peeped up at him, and he remembered that she'd been reproached and punished, perhaps even severely, for using her power at any time when she hadn't been ordered to.

"Yes, I am." He lifted her back to the counter she'd been sitting on, pushed her jacket off her shoulders. "Gonna show you just how grateful. And the benefits. I'm definitely feeling more athletic these days."

Wanda giggled as he swooped in and kissed her neck. "Ah, that's why I did it, I remember now." His calloused fingers were sliding up her legs, pushing her skirt up her thighs. "Oh, Clint," it was a breathy moan as he reached his goal.

"You wicked girl," he startled, "you're not wearing any underwear!"

"Must have forgotten them," she murmured, looking up at him through her lashes, and he growled deep in his chest. And then she dipped into her cleavage and removed a foil packet.

"Why do I have the feeling that you came down here with the full intention of seducing me?" he murmured laughingly, taking the packet from her hand and putting it down on the counter.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she moaned again as his fingers moved, sliding slowly into her slick core.

"You're wet," he whispered hotly in her ear. "Did watching me shoot turn you on?"

"Y-yes. You're so powerful when you shoot. So focussed, in control. Ah-ah!" as his thumb rotated swiftly over her clit. Wanda's head fell back, the ends of her long dark hair brushing the countertop, and Clint groaned lustfully.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous." He went to his knees between her legs, pulling her hips right to the edge of the counter, her skirt up over her groin. At eye level with her pussy, he smiled hungrily and leaned in.

Wanda cried out at the first swipe of his hot tongue. Sobbed as two long fingers thrust deep inside her, beginning a swift rhythm, his tongue lapping at her clit in perfect time.

He knew exactly how to touch her. How to push her quickly up to that cliff edge of pleasure and keep her there, teetering precariously, sobbing his name, the fingers of one hand clenching in his short blond hair, trying to push him harder against her. It wasn't until she cried out "Please!" (in Latvian, not English, but he'd picked up enough to understand her) that he let her come, twisting his fingers just right as he suckled on her clit.

Clint smiled as Wanda collapsed back onto the counter, her heels digging into his back as her body arched and she keened out her pleasure. With a few last gentle strokes he slipped his fingers from her and reached for the condom, unfastening his belt with his other hand.

Wanda moaned as Clint turned her over, his strong hands manipulating her easily. She summoned enough strength to brace her hands on the counter as he brushed her skirt up over her bottom and pushed slowly into her. She bit her lip against the intense pleasure, the friction against already sensitised flesh. Felt one hand gather her hair at the nape of her neck, his hot mouth against her throat as he tugged gently on her hair.

"Yes," she whimpered frantically, trying to grind back against him. His other arm curled around her hip and he started playing with her clit again. "Ah, Clint, that's – too much!"

He slowed his thrusts at once, letting her catch her breath, though he didn't stop playing with her clit, nor his nipping and sucking on her neck. Later on, she would look in the mirror at the marks he'd left, touch her fingers to them and smile possessively. Proud that he'd chosen to mark her, to let the world know that she was his alone.

But right now he was still buried deep inside her, his hand letting go of her hair and stroking slowly down her spine. "You all right, darlin'?" Clint whispered softly as her breathing steadied.

"Mm," was about all she could say. "Feels so good."

"I know. Perfect. You're perfect, my witch…"

She didn't mind when he called her witch. From anyone else there was an undertone of fear – but never from Clint. From the first moment he'd looked past the red glow on her hands and seen the terrified, lost girl who only desperately wanted someone to love her.

"Sorceress," he murmured, licking at her earlobe, making her shudder. "Enchantress. Ah, hell, Wanda!" as she deliberately clenched around him.

"Shut up and fuck me, Clint!" she panted.

"Whatever you want, baby," he groaned, and then both big hands settled on her hips and he started to move, rough, jerking thrusts that told her he was nearing his end too. "Come on, darlin', come with me, I know you can," he growled against her throat, listening to the sounds she made, feeling the flutterings of her body beginning to tighten around him again. And then she dropped to her elbows, changing the angle of his thrusts inside her, and Clint was gone, pouring deep into her welcoming heat with a shout of triumph, listening to her soft cries as sleek wet muscles contracted tightly around his cock.

"Aaah," Clint dropped his forehead to Wanda's back, holding her close against him as she shuddered, her body milking him hard until finally she relaxed with a low moan. "You okay baby?" he stroked her back and hips gently, easing carefully out of her.

"Mm," she pushed back off the counter, turned to face him, her dark eyes glazed over with pleasure as she smiled up at him. He couldn't help but lift his hands to her face, thumbs brushing gently over her cheekbones as he bent his head to kiss her.

"I love you," he whispered it soft but heartfelt, felt her smile against his mouth. And then her slender hands landed on his biceps, squeezing and kneading the thick muscle.

"I love you, too," Wanda said back as she gazed up into his blue-grey eyes. "So much."

"Let's get out of here. I have a sudden desire to spend the rest of the day in bed with you. There's no way I'll be able to concentrate on anything else now knowing that you've got no panties on under this dress."

She laughed as he fastened his pants hastily before lifting her into his arms. It was a good thing he was willing and able to carry her, Wanda mused, because her knees were still weak. She linked her arms around Clint's neck and rested her cheek against his shoulder, still smiling as he carried her towards the elevator.

More Darcy/Pietro next chapter, I promise, but I have been asked to show a bit more of Clint and Wanda's relationship, so here! Have another pile of smut!