Chapter 52

"Yes."

For a moment, he thought he couldn't have heard her correctly. He really hadn't been expecting it; had expected her to let him down gently, tell him it was too early, she wasn't ready, she needed time – or the truth, that he was not marriage material, and certainly not for a girl with as much to give as Jemma.

"What?"

"Yes, Clint. Yes."

He was staring at her uncomprehendingly. Jemma bit her lip. "I'd like very much to marry you?" she tried.

"Really?"

"You really thought I was going to say no!" she realised in horror. "Oh my God, did you want me to say no…?"

"No!" he almost shouted that, lifting her hands to his face and pressing his brow to them. "But I never – I really couldn't let myself even begin to hope that you'd say yes…"

"Yes," she told him, fighting back tears again, this time that Clint could possibly think he was inadequate. "Yes, yes, yes, yes…" he reached up and kissed her.

Jemma slid off the bed and onto his bent knee, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him back. His hands stroked wonderingly over her hair, her back, and Clint realised they were tremoring slightly. He could barely believe that this was real, that Jemma was really here, in his arms, tears still wet on her cheeks, pressing kisses all over his face as she reassured him, told him that she felt so lucky he loved her.

"I'm the lucky one," he muttered, rubbing his nose on her soft neck, breathing in her scent. Even after the day she'd had, she still smelled good. Like apples. "So damn lucky you even looked twice at me."

"Many more times than twice," Jemma deliberately scratched her short nails down either side of his spine, felt him shudder. "Couldn't take my eyes off you whenever you were around. Can't keep my hands off you. When you're not there I feel like there's part of me missing, Clint; I want to be with you. Always."

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered, overwhelmed as Jemma spoke the words that so perfectly mirrored his own feelings. "I – I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest woman alive."

For several long moments they just held each other, kissing softly, whispering loving words. And then Clint rose to his feet, easily lifting Jemma with him. "This is the right place, you know."

"Hmm? Oh," Jemma glanced around the tiny room, then up at Clint, smiling. "Yes, you're right. This is where we first had sex."

"Made love," Clint corrected, "I've never just had sex with you, Jemma. Actually it was my cubicle, if you recall – but close enough."

Jemma grinned. "I was too dazed by having the legendary Hawkeye in my bed to notice much, to be honest."

That made him chuckle. "What made you give in so quick and let me seduce you?" he couldn't help but ask, even as he set her on the bed and reached down to take her boots off.

"Oh seriously, have you seen you?" Jemma gestured at him, taking in the magnificent shoulders and arms. "I thought I'd better take advantage before you came to your senses and decided you didn't actually want me after all."

Clint let out a snort of laughter. "Not really?"

"Of course really!" she shook her head at him. "Come on, I had no idea at the time that you'd been stalking me!"

"I really wish you'd stop using that term," Clint frowned.

"I should," Jemma realised. Because stalking was what Ward had been doing to Skye, and it was a great deal more sick and terrifying than Clint's admiration of her from afar. "All right, how about that you'd been wistfully admiring me from a distance?"

"Closer, though you make me sound rather like a teenage kid with a crush. Rather than a grown man with some very vivid fantasies and clearly defined desires."

"Really?" Jemma started unbuttoning her blouse. "Why don't you tell me about some of them?"

Damn, he still was a teenager with his first crush when she did that. Clint stared, licking his lips, as the buttons slipped free and the blouse parted, soft pale skin revealed to his eyes. She was wearing another of those pretty lingerie sets he loved so much, this one pale green satin with tiny pink rosebuds.

"Ah, Jemma," he said softly, leaning in over her, hands braced on either side of her, pushing her back against the pillow. "You take my breath away."

She was the one who was panting, quick uneven breaths as he hovered over her, the breadth of his shoulders dwarfing her small frame. A tiny whine escaped her lips as Clint bent his head, nuzzling at the curve of her breast over the edge of the bra, before opening his mouth and licking at her nipple, wetting the thin satin.

"Clint," Jemma moaned as he moved, pressing his weight down on her legs to hold her in place, sucking her nipple harder into his mouth. His teeth grazed the slippery material and her hands started to shake, moving up to run into his hair, holding him closer. Wanting more of his touch, of that delicious heat that always surged between them. "Please," she said deliberately, knowing how it affected him when she used that particular word.

A low growl sounded in Clint's chest, and then he was unfastening her belt, stripping it and her trousers away quickly, pressing the heel of his hand against her crotch. He slid down the bed, opening his mouth and licking over the damp satin of her panties, pressing his tongue firmly over her clit.

Jemma was making those soft keening noises he loved so damn much, driving him insane as she lifted her hips, trying desperately to press herself harder against his mouth.

"I gotta have you, sweetheart," he muttered, scrabbling at his own belt. "Jemma…?" she was technically still on duty, after all. And if anyone needed emergency medical attention, things could get very embarrassing real quick.

"Shut up and fuck me," Jemma demanded frantically, tugging at his hair.

He'd long since recognised that he could deny her nothing. Least of all a plea like that. Shoving his pants down, uncaring of them tangled around his knees because he certainly wasn't taking the time to get his boots off, Clint edged Jemma's panties aside and pressed into her slick, wet tunnel with his thumb. She was more than ready for him, juices coating his hand, needy moans coming from deep in her throat as she arched into his touch.

"So lovely," Clint muttered thickly. "Need you so bad." He was so hard, he thought he might explode before he ever got inside her. Just the thought of her tight heat surrounding him had that prickle beginning at the base of his spine.

"Yes," Jemma moaned deliriously, feeling his arousal push against her thigh as he moved back up over her body, pausing to taste her satin-covered breasts, plumping them in his big hands, licking over and nipping at her aching nipples.

"Love you so much," knowing how it annoyed her when he wrecked her expensive underwear – not that he didn't just do it sometimes for the sheer pleasure of buying her new things – he edged her panties over and pushed past, using one hand to rub the tip of his cock over her clit a few times before pressing in where he desperately wanted to be.

"Clint," he felt wonderful, thick, hot, heavy, filling. Jemma arched her back, running her hands down his sides to grab his hips and try and pull him deeper into her. He groaned harshly against her throat, his own back bowing as he plunged deep.

"Yes, fuck, Jemma baby, you feel so good," Clint moaned as she wrapped tightly around him, her legs coming up to clasp his hips, pull him as deep as she could get him, her head rolling back as her eyes closed ecstatically. "No, sweetheart, look at me, I need to see your eyes."

She groaned in protest, but as he began a series of gentle thrusts, angling to glide over her most sensitive spots, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

Clint's expression was one of worshipful adoration as he gazed down at her, combined with a healthy dose of lust. "So beautiful," he muttered, and then something changed in his look as Jemma felt a small, pre-orgasmic spasm shoot through her. "Mine." It was a possessive snarl deep in his chest, reverberating though both of them.

"Yes," Jemma gasped. "Yours. I'm yours – oh God, Clint, YES!" he'd changed suddenly to a hard, fast, plunging rhythm that sent her totally over the edge, back arching, throaty cries of his name tipping him over the edge too, spurting hotly, buried to the hilt in her soft, welcoming body, his eyes blind as he roared out her name.

A couple of doors along the corridor, Steve's face flamed red. Lying on his chest, Skye eyed him quizzically. "What? I didn't say anything."

"Let's just say super-senses aren't always a good thing."

Merry Christmas from Down Under. My house is now even more full of Lego than it was previously, including an Ultra Agents mission truck which has been declared to be the new Agents of SHIELD headquarters, and a Quinjet my old son is taking great delight in zooming around with Hawkeye as the pilot…

I hope that you noticed in the previous chapter, I actually provided an explanation for Bobbi and Mack's secrecy and the thumb drive, even though I didn't explicitly mention it! No one seemed to notice *pout* although I guess you probably had a legitimate reason for distraction…