Chapter 4.

Jemma's breath stuttered when Clint leaned forward in all his naked glory. Damn, his cock was as big as the rest of his muscles, long and thick and straining towards her. She hoped he didn't notice her hands shaking with nerves as she smoothed the condom on. He wasn't her first by any means, but he was easily the biggest guy she'd ever been with. She hoped he knew what he was doing, because otherwise this was going to hurt.

"You'll be fine," he must have read the slight trepidation on her face, because when she looked up at him he was smiling gently down at her. "Let me take care of you, Jemma." And he was easing her back up the bed, placing her head on the pillow, his hand never letting up inside her as he moved to settle his hips between her thighs.

"I trust you," she gazed up at him, her eyes wide, pupils blown with lust. He had to swallow thickly as her words hit him. He kissed her again, slipping his fingers from her and putting both hands on her hips.

She could taste herself on him, overlaid on the coffee-and-spice taste of his mouth. It should have disgusted her, but it didn't, it was wildly exciting, and then he murmured an order to wrap her legs around him and she obeyed instinctively. Another of those embarrassing noises came out of her mouth as she felt the thick, blunt head of his cock nudge against her, and she felt him smile against her lips.

She was everything Clint had ever dreamed of. Sensitive, responsive, obedient – there was nothing prim and precise about Jemma now as she kissed him back wildly, her nails clawing frantically at his back as he eased slowly into her. He had to stop kissing her for a moment and take a couple of deep breaths as she suddenly clenched and fluttered around him, coming again even though he was barely moving and not even fully sheathed inside her. For the first time he got a good look at her face as she came, and she was utterly beautiful, her eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and parted, her face and chest flushed with arousal.

What the hell did I ever do to deserve this? he wondered, but didn't say it aloud. He couldn't even move right now, she was clamped so hard on his cock, her back bowing, hips lifting into him. Damn, but he wasn't going to last long, and even less time if she kept letting out those damnably sexy little whines. Slowly the tight grip around him eased and he carried on moving, thrusting slowly, determined that he wasn't going to hurt her. She was very wet, but so tight. So. Damn. Tight…

"Oh, fuck." A bolt of lightning seemed to hit up his spine, his balls drew up tight to his body and he was coming, so hard that for a moment he could barely breathe. "Christ, fuck, shit, I'm sorry, Jemma!" he groaned out against her soft throat.

"The only thing you need to be sorry about is that filthy, filthy mouth," her soft hands stroked his back gently as he shuddered with the aftershocks of that magnificent orgasm. "Oh. And for stalking me."

"What?" he stiffened in the very act of moving to kiss her again.

"How else would you have known I was drunk last night?" Her brain had finally started to process some of what he'd said.

"Oh," he tried to shrug casually. "I saw you on your way back here with Skye last night. The two of you were all over the place." That wasn't even technically a lie. The two of them had been staggering when they left May's quarters.

"Hmm," she narrowed her pretty eyes at him, and he kissed her again hastily. Damn that clever brain of hers, why oh why did he have to fall for someone so brilliant? He was never going to be able to keep anything from her.

"Bathroom?" he asked, easing out of her slowly, dropping a hand to make sure the condom stayed secure. He grabbed the folded blanket from the foot of the bed and slung it around his waist. May had promised him that no one would be back on the plane until eleven-thirty at the earliest, but you never knew, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to catch him walking out of his room with a filled condom hanging from his dick. Gently he tugged the sheet from under Jemma and covered her with it, as she told him the bathroom was two doors down.

"Stay here. Please?" he asked her as he tapped the door release. "I'll only be a couple of minutes."

"I should get back to work…"

"Not yet." He shot her a pleading look, then followed it with a cheeky grin. "If you like, I can make it an order as your superior officer."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't move, and he nodded and keyed the door closed again.

Jemma stayed staring at the door for a minute, and then flopped to her back, staring at the ceiling above her. "I just got banged by Hawkeye," she said to the ceiling incredulously, and then had to roll over to muffle her giggles in the pillow. It still all seemed like a crazy dream, apart from the languor pervading her body and the damp sticky feeling between her legs. Three orgasms. Three. She hadn't even realised that she was physically capable of that in such a short period of time.

The door slid open and she rolled to her back to see him looming over her. She couldn't help a long, slow survey of his body. He was all heavy muscle, thick pectorals, wide shoulders, those massive biceps. He tapered beautifully to a narrow waist, and she'd seen the powerful thigh muscles. The scars – the many, many awful scars – were the only thing that stopped him from being a perfect physical specimen.

Jemma had the oddest look on her face, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Was she regretting him already? Clint shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed beside her, reaching to put his hand on her shoulder.

"Jemma. Sweetheart, are you all right? I really didn't intend for that to happen." He really hadn't. Despite May's urging. He'd just wanted to spend a bit of time with her, talk to her, get her comfortable with him. Maybe snatch a kiss or two. But honestly he'd been lost from the moment she called him Clint in that breathy English accent. "Not so soon, anyway," when she looked suddenly a tiny bit hurt. "I rushed you."

Jemma met his eyes, and melted inside at the look of concern there. He was smiling tenderly, his big hand stroking her shoulder soothingly. "Don't apologise. It was fabulous. You were amazing. Can we do that again sometime?" She winced inwardly. Oh God, another attack of verbal diarrhoea. But Clint was laughing softly.

"I'd love to. My refractory period isn't quite what it was when I was a teenager, but I reckon you turn me on enough to make it pretty short." He dropped the blanket and eased into bed beside her. "We've still got a couple of hours before anyone else gets back. Let's make the most of it."

"I've been set up," she realised suddenly as his hands came up to cover her breasts. "I'm going to kill May!"

"She owed me a favour." He grinned and kissed her. "Told you, Jemma. I've had my eye on you for quite a while."

"Really?" she blinked at him, looking suddenly very young and rather like a startled fawn.

"Yeah. I'm too old for you but I apparently have an uncontrollable attraction to gorgeous, brilliant young Englishwomen." He shrugged a bit self-deprecatingly, and she frowned and linked her hands behind his head, pulling him down to kiss her again.

"You're not that old," deliberately she writhed against him. "Let me demonstrate something to you. Certain physiological responses can be generated with application of the correct methods…"

"You fucking turn me on so much when you talk science," he murmured as her hands slid down his abdomen.

"Dear, oh dear," bright eyes twinkled up at him as she slid down his body. "You'd better not wear those tight leather trousers the next time you come into my lab then."

He threw his head back against the pillow and groaned. Of course she fucking noticed. Who did he think he was kidding? The groan turned to a gasp as she licked delicately around the head of his already-hardening cock.

"I am really gonna enjoy this assignment," he murmured, his eyes closing with bliss as Jemma's soft, clever mouth caressed him.

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