Cheiloproclitic: Being attracted to a person's lips or mouth.
Clint hates and loves Natasha in equal measures.
Hates it when she laughs at him, his hands straining to free themselves of the leather cuffs that bind him to the headboard of their bed, absolutely despises it when Natasha leaves little love bites all over his chest and neck and he cannot lift his hands up to frame her waist, cannot run his hands through her cherry curls, cannot hold or touch or taste.
Hates it when she looks up at him tantalizingly, teasingly, as she opens her mouth, blows warm and sweet across the tip of his twitching cock. Hates it as those red, red lips open up, a little hint of pink tongue darting out to taste the beads of sticky clearness, to smear it over his skin. Hates it as she holds his hips down with a strength one would never expect from her, hates it as she takes him deep into her throat and swallows and hums around him.
"I want to come," he sobs, turning his face to bite into his arm to muffle his moans. She pulls off him with a slick pop, and he whines at the loss, his hips twitching up to her in pleading, in supplication. "Please, let me come."
Absolutely hates it when that scarlet mouth curves itself in a wicked smile, shaping itself in the perfect circle of the "No."
But, but, when it is over, and he is rubbing over his sore wrists, he lifts a hand to trace the graceful pout of her lower lip and finds that, despite all this, he loves her anyway.