Chapter 5.

Jemma liked to think that she gave good head. She knew human anatomy, had studied that particular aspect of male physiology and biochemistry with interest. It had practical applications, after all. She'd never, though, been able to suppress her gag reflex enough to deep-throat a guy, and considering Clint's length and thickness, hell no that wasn't happening. Not that he seemed to care. He put a hand to her head and she tensed briefly, worried that he might try to hold her still and thrust into her mouth, but he just started running his fingers gently through her hair.

She tasted and licked, curled her tongue around the head of his cock and tugged, using one hand around the base to grasp and pump, cupping and rolling his balls in the other, scraping a fingernail delicately across the perineum. He was fully erect again with a couple of minutes, making low rumbling sounds deep in his chest, muscular thighs tensing and shifting. He never moved his hips, though, and his hand just kept combing softly through her hair.

Damn but what she was doing felt good. Jemma approached blowing him with the same methodical precision she applied to everything else in her life, and she was just as good at this as she was with her clever inventions. She obviously didn't want to take him deep in her mouth because she tensed when he touched her head, and he was fine with that. He was big enough that almost any woman would have balked anyway, and he wasn't a brute. What she was doing with her tongue and those clever hands was more than enough to get him panting with need again in short order anyway.

"Jemma," Clint groaned after a few minutes. "Stop."

She obeyed at once, but then asked anxiously "Was I doing something wrong?"

"Oh hell no," he lifted his head, looking at her shocked. "No, sweetheart, that was fucking amazing!"

"Oh," she blushed adorably. "But – you asked me to stop." She hung her head, and he was reminded of a wilting snowdrop.

"Jemma," he sat up and reached for her, pulling her into his arms until she nestled against his chest. "I didn't want your jaw to get tired." He caressed the smooth line of her jaw with one hand as she gazed up at him from those soft, trusting eyes. "Besides, if you carried on I was gonna fail to carry through on my promise a second time."

"Promise?" her brow furrowed adorably, and he kissed between her eyebrows, trying to smooth the frown away with his lips.

"When I said I was gonna fuck you so hard you can't remember your own name," he growled softly, letting his hands slide down to her breasts, cupping them gently in his big hands, pinching lightly at her nipples until they hardened and she let out a stifled little moan.

"Oh," her cheeks flushed as her eyes drifted closed, "yes, please."

She was almost sitting on him, back to his chest, her thighs astride one of his, so he lay back, pulling her with him, running his hand down her flat stomach into her curls. Splayed out atop him was a very vulnerable position, but she only sighed and turned her face against his neck, letting him do as he wished with her as he ground his arousal gently against her hip.

"This one's for you, beautiful girl," he whispered huskily in her ear as his fingers explored gently inside her again, his thumb flicking lightly over her clit at irregular intervals making her shiver and moan. "How do you want it? I'll last a while this time around, so we can do anything you want."

"I don't – I…" Clint could tell Jemma was embarrassed by the way she burrowed her face against his neck, making sure he couldn't see her expression. And her blush, from how hot her cheek felt.

"Tell me," he said softly, setting up a slow rhythm with his fingers, plunging deep inside her and then drawing slowly, tauntingly back out before plunging hard back in again. "Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. I'm just frantic to feel you coming around my cock, again and again, and any way I can make that happen, I will."

She just shook her head and shuddered against him, and he grinned. "Not quite ready to tell me yet? I'll coax it out of you." And with one quick move he twisted out from under her, leaving her on her back and him on his knees between her thighs as he reached for another condom. He had it smoothed on in a moment and leaned forward, smiling at the look on her face as she bit her lip and eyed him with eager anticipation. "This what you like? Missionary?"

"I'd always heard," Jemma finally found her voice as he began to ease slowly deep inside her, "that you didn't talk much."

"Then you haven't talked to anyone that knows me well." He grinned down at her, pushing slowly deeper, encouraging her to lift her knees to make it easier for her. "My friends say I never fucking shut up."

"Certainly not in bed oh my God Clint that feels like you're fucking me with a baseball bat!" she gabbled the last few words, sweat breaking out on her hairline.

"You all right, sweetheart?" he eased back an inch, giving her time to adjust. She panted, her hips shifting, and he made to pull back further. He didn't want to cause her any discomfort, maybe he needed some lube, she wasn't ready for this…

"Don't you dare fucking pull out!" Surprisingly strong legs twined around his waist. "That feels amazing just – slowly…"

"Whatever you need, Jemma," he leaned in to kiss her, playing a gentle duel of tongues, distracting her. He shifted his hips slowly, thrusting gently, feeling his passage get easier as she became slicker. "Mmm," he hummed deep in his throat as he finally got fully inside her. "Damn, you feel so good."

Jemma still had the strangest feeling of unreality, that this really couldn't be Clint Barton, the legendary Hawkeye, atop and inside her, making her feel – well, totally not like herself. She felt like a vixen, sexy and desirable, with the way he was looking at and speaking to her, his gorgeous bluey-green eyes so close to hers, gazing at her as he murmured smutty filth with that sensual mouth. Even his voice was sexy, low and raspy, scraping along her nerves and making her shiver with want.

The way he felt inside her, though, convinced her that this genuinely was real, not some crazy dream or drug-induced hallucination. He was hot and thick and she felt absolutely stuffed, full in a way she'd never been before as he began to thrust gently inside her.

"Oh, my God," Jemma whimpered, her eyes drifting closed, and that seemed to be some sort of signal to him, because Clint suddenly moved, lifting her hips, pulling his knees forward so he was sitting on his heels and her bottom was on his lap.

He sat upright, his strong hands holding her hips still, and then he began to really move, pumping hard into her, drawing almost all the way back before slamming back in. A low wail came from Jemma's lips, but he grinned tightly, recognising that it was a wail of pleasure, not pain, and kept thrusting.

"That's it," Clint coaxed, watching Jemma as she began to shake, her hands clawing at the sheets. "That's it, gorgeous girl, come for me. I love feeling you come. You like this?"

"Yes!" she wailed it, her head starting to thrash from side to side. "Yes! Please! Oh my God…" as he applied a precise fingertip to her clit and she went straight off the deep end.

Smut, smut, more smut. This was originally going to be a fairly short story, but I'm up past 11 chapters and plot is sneaking up on me. Hope you are all enjoying so far, please leave me a review to let me know what you think!