Chapter 12.

"I didn't think you'd come," was all Jemma could think to say, stupidly, when the door slid back and she saw him standing there.

"Really?" Clint lifted a doubting brow. And then he moved forward, edging Jemma back towards her bed, closing the door and latching it shut. "I will always come for you, Jemma," he said, and there was something in his voice that made her tilt her head curiously. "Always."

"Don't be a creepy stalker again now," she reproved. "The only reason I've let that slide is, well…"

"I made it up to you in a suitable manner?" he suggested with a smirk.

"Temporarily," Jemma said, "until I've figured out just how long you've been stalking me."

"Why don't you just ask me? I've already promised I won't have secrets from you. Occasional S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets, perhaps, but no personal ones."

"All right, then, so how long have you been stalking me?" Jemma's breath caught in her throat as she realised he had backed her up against the wall, his big hands coming up on either side of her, caging her in his arms even though he wasn't touching her.

"Stalking's such a harsh word. I told you, I've had my eye on you for a long time. First time I saw you was at the Academy, that time I came to get my Taser arrows from Fitz. I don't think you even saw me, you just barged into his lab all excited because you'd figured out some problem that had been bugging the two of you. You started babbling pure science and I – well, I was intrigued." He lowered his head to taste very lightly at the side of her neck, just below her ear, and Jemma found herself shivering slightly.

"I've kept an eye out for you since then. Saw you in New York after the invasion, gathering up Chitauri parts and tech. I was delighted when I heard you were picked for Coulson's team."

"I thought the Avengers weren't supposed to know about Coulson?" Jemma objected.

Clint let out a snort. "Don't be ridiculous. While I was temporarily dropped back to Level 6 after New York, you lot were wandering around in plain sight at the Hub within a few weeks of the team being formed. I've been an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. for seventeen years, you think in all that time I haven't made any friends who owed me a little loyalty?"

"May," Jemma realised. "She probably told you even before the Bus first took off."

"She did," Clint's mouth tightened. "She asked my advice on the team members, the team dynamic. That sort of thing has never been her strong point. I was the one who recommended Ward, for which decision I will spend the rest of my life berating myself."

"You couldn't have known," Jemma couldn't help but reach out to him, laying her fingers gently against his cheek, trying to smooth the rigidness in his expression. "Nobody knew."

"He almost killed you," Clint said hoarsely. "Almost killed you before I ever had the chance to be with you… I would never have forgiven myself, Jemma. Never."

"You don't have to," Jemma stroked her fingers lightly over his jaw, slid down his neck, caressed his broad shoulders lightly, and then, a little shyly, moved down to his biceps. Tentatively she squeezed, and Clint glanced down and grinned.

"See something you like, Jemma?" his voice was low and husky. And then he deliberately leant in closer, flexing his biceps under her hands. "Something you want?"

Honestly, the man made all of her brains seem to dribble out of her head. Especially when he spoke like that. Because Jemma wanted – everything. Deliberately, she sank her nails into the rock-hard flesh under her hands, heard him take in a harsh breath, and then he was leaning in, his mouth brushing lightly over hers at first before coming down in a hungry, almost bruising kiss. Which she returned, with interest.

"I need you," he breathed against her mouth a few head-spinning minutes later. "I want you, Jemma, I am fucking crazy to have you right now. Please."

"I – I don't want anyone else to hear us," she whispered shyly.

Clint grinned, slow and filthy. "I'll make sure no one can hear us."

"How...?" Jemma began, and then she gaped as he moved away from her, confidently opened her wardrobe and plucked out a silk scarf. "Okay, now you're freaking me out."

"I came in here earlier to fetch you some clean things, remember? Looked in the wardrobe because I wasn't sure where you kept your stuff, saw the scarf. I did think about tying you up with it. But that might make you too noisy, so perhaps another time."

Jemma was scarlet with embarrassment. And – arousal. The thought of being tied down while Clint did whatever he wanted to her…

"You have a private apartment in Avengers Tower?" she blurted.

"Yeah. We'll be there tomorrow evening. Might stay a day or two." He smiled slowly, running the scarf through his fingers. And then he deftly looped a knot in the middle of it. "Bite down on this, sweetheart, if you feel the urge to make a lot of noise." He pressed the knot gently against her lips, arching an eyebrow questioningly. She opened her mouth after a moment, reasoning that he was only doing what she'd asked. She'd still be able to make some noise, let him know if there was anything he was doing that she didn't like. He was gently tying the scarf behind her head. It wasn't tight enough to pull on her jaw, but firm enough to not fall out of her mouth.

"Okay, sweetheart?" Clint asked, and she nodded. "All right, then. God," he moved back and looked her up and down, "you're so fucking beautiful. Let me take care of you, darling. I want to make you feel so good…" his fingers trailed down her throat, pausing above the swell of her breast. "Don't be nervous of me, Jemma," he said softly, and she realised he was feeling her thunderous pulse. She shook her head.

"Not nervous," she tried to say though the gag, but it came out "Noh ner uh."

"Ah," he smiled, a predator's flash of teeth. "Excitement, then."

She only watched him from wide eyes, thinking that perhaps she was a little bit nervous, because she really had no idea what he planned to do. She'd changed for bed, yoga pants and a tank top with spaghetti straps. He plucked the hem of the top upwards, his eyes on hers, checking that she was okay with what he was doing.

Oh boy, was she ever okay with what he was doing. Clint's hands were warm, strong, his fingers rough-textured but his touch gentle. He lifted her top right up, and she raised her arms to let him pull it off over her head. Only when it passed over her eyes did he break eye contact, and then she saw he was staring at her breasts. A little shy, she went to cross her arms over them, but he caught her wrists lightly, holding both her hands in one of his just above her head.

"Don't hide from me, Jemma. You are so beautiful," his eyes roamed over her.

She couldn't help but duck her head shyly. "No." I'm not beautiful, she meant.

"Oh, sweetheart," he let out a soft laugh. "You are so very wrong about that. Look at me."

Slowly, Jemma lifted her eyes to his. And in his face, she saw that he truly did find her beautiful. There was awe in his expression, lust and tenderness combined. His free hand came up to touch her cheek gently, caressing her jaw.

"I see," Clint said softly, "an amazingly beautiful woman. Brilliant, courageous, determined. Do you not know yourself, Jemma?"

She could only stare up at him in amazement, and he smiled wryly. "Let me show you what I see."

He released her hands, letting them drop to her sides before gentle fingers trailed down her throat, and she sucked in a shuddering breath as his other hand moved quickly, suddenly flicking at her nipple. It was unexpected, and she jerked as a sudden shock of pleasure raced through her.

"A passionate woman," Clint murmured softly in her ear, tasting lightly at her earlobe, "who is still learning about her own body's needs and desires." Both his hands were on her breasts now, drawing circles around her nipples, investigating just how she liked to be touched. His mouth was on her neck, exploring the tender spots there, and Jemma's knees sagged, no longer able to hold her up. Clint laughed darkly and lifted her in his arms, lowering her to the bed.

"Can't stand up, sweetheart?"

She shook her head, reaching for him with eager hands, and he let her pull his shirt off and trace her hands wonderingly over his chest and shoulders.

"Glad to know all that time I spend in the gym isn't wasted," Clint said softly, a laugh in his voice, and Jemma grinned behind the gag, making appreciative noises. He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he reached for her yoga pants, sliding them gently off her hips, lifting her butt in his hands to work them down her thighs. And then she was lying nude before him. He paused, taking his time to look her over, catching her hands gently with his own when she tried to cover herself shyly.

"Let me look at you. Please." He met her eyes until she slowly moved her hands away. And then she pointed at him.

"You oo," she said through the gag.

"You want to see me too?" Clint looked pleased, and when Jemma nodded vigorously, stood and removed his clothes, standing upright and still for her to look as much as she wanted.

Jemma sighed in appreciation. Clint was a work of art, every muscle defined by sheer hard work. He didn't have the sculpted perfection of a bodybuilder, but rather the all-around brawn of someone who put maximum effort into everything he did. She'd felt the benefit of all that muscle earlier when he held her up against the wall.

His chest hair was the same dark blond as the hair on his head, not particularly thick, trailing down his muscled stomach in a narrow line to his groin, where his cock stood thick and proudly at attention.

After a long moment, Clint shifted a bit uncomfortably. He was enjoying looking at Jemma, propped up on one elbow on her bed, her lovely body exposed to his gaze, but she was staring at his cock, her eyes wide, and hadn't looked away. "Sweetheart?" he moved a little closer, put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up to look at him. "You all right? If you've changed your mind…"

Well, it might kill him, but he'd put his clothes on and leave her, if that's what she wanted.

"No!" Jemma squawked through the gag, and saw him smile. She sat up on the bed and reached for him. "Please, Clint – I want you." The words came out garbled, but he understood her well enough, moving closer, letting her reach to touch that magnificent cock. A drop of pre-cum beaded on the tip, and she gathered it and used it to lubricate his shaft, pumping her hand fast a couple of times until he let out a low, guttural sound and pounced, shoving her back on the bed.

Eagerly, Jemma reached up her arms, putting them around Clint's neck, pulling him towards her.

"Hang on a minute, sweetheart," he grinned slightly at her eagerness. "You're not ready for me yet. And I need to get dressed, eh?" He pressed on the hidden panel by the bed, which slid up to reveal – not condoms. Instead, out fell Jemma's secret vice.

A 1970's vintage paperback romance novel.

BWAHAHAHAH. You totally thought that was going to be a battery-operated boyfriend, didn't you? No, no, I always go for the comedy value. So what do you think Hawkeye's reaction will be?

Incidentally, the results of my little poll are as follows (and bear in mind I collated results from Fanfiction, Ao3 and a few folks who messaged me direct):

Skye/Steve: 6 votes

Skye/Bucky: 4 votes

Skye/Natasha: 1 vote (thanks, Serena, like I needed another plot bunny!)

Steve/Bucky: 1 vote – to the Guest who wrote that, WHAT PLANET ARE YOU ON? You said there aren't many Stucky stories out there? It's like, one of the most popular ships out there, right up with FrostIron and Stony! Get onto Ao3 and you can read explicit Stucky for the next 10 years!

Anyway, Skye/Steve wins out so that's what I'm gonna write. I may do a Skye/Bucky later (they'd be kinda cute together) as a separate one-shot, so you can always follow/favourite me as a writer if you'd like to see that.