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Hunted

She was being hunted. Clarke Griffin knew that. Being hunted and feeling hunted unfortunately, wasn't something that Clarke was unused to.

She had been hunted since the moment she had seen her daddy get flushed out of the airlock when she had been only five years old, and had been accused of treason for knowing what her daddy knew, and had been locked away in the skybox for six years, till she had been eleven.

It had been agony and lonely. Lonely to the point that it almost had destroyed Clarke's mind.

In fact, it had.

For Clarke? Being hunted was normal, but she destroyed those who had angered her.

For Clarke, she knew what being hunted was like and she knew how to kill those that caused her problems.

She was used to being hunted.

And then the Avengers had arrived in the Ice Nation.

She hadn't realized the Avengers would try to hunt her too.

That hadn't ended well for all four the Hulk, Thor, Rhodes and Stark.

And it had ended with Steve being thrown away and Sam getting his wings ripped apart.

Clarke had been ready to hurt some more of those hunting her.

Then she had seen Natasha Romanoff below, by the trunk of the tree where Clarke had been hiding in the branches of.

Clarke had stared down dangerously at Natasha, growling at her, but had found herself unable to do anything except obey Natasha's coaxing when she had asked Clarke to come down.

Clarke had crawled down the tree to Natasha and had allowed Natasha to take her into the Avengers' jet.

Clarke and Natasha had sat there on the bench of the wall of the jet as Clint had started the jet up and he and the rest of the Avengers had flown off with the two women together.

Clarke was basically incapable of doing anything except obeying everything that Natasha asked her to do-completely under Natasha's thrall.

They hadn't slept together yet. Not yet. But Clarke wanted Natasha. She knew that for a fact. She knew she wanted Natasha.

It hadn't occurred to Clarke, until she and Natasha had gotten to the Avengers base, and Natasha had made it clear that they weren't sleeping together, unless Clarke was willing to have the relationship be about emotions as well as sex, that she didn't just want Natasha, but she wanted Natasha to dominate her. To control her every action in bed.

But she knew better than to ever utter that out loud to Natasha.

And yet?

She had a feeling Natasha knew that. Had known that for a while now.

In fact, Clarke was sure that Natasha had known that from the very first day they had met.

And what was more? Months later in present day, Clarke was still sure of it.

And another thing Clarke had realized, was that she was being hunted. Again.

But not in the way she had used to be hunted.

Natasha was hunting her. Of that, Clarke was absolutely certain.

Clarke would go about her day in SHIELD base, and she'd feel Natasha's eyes on her almost the whole time.

To be honest, Clarke was no better.

Whenever Natasha was in the same room as her, Clarke would find her eyes going to Natasha and watching the redhead walk across the room or train or doing anything.

And Clarke was positive that Natasha knew she was watching her.

But here was the thing, Clarke was positive that she could detect a difference between how she was watching Natasha and how Natasha was watching her.

Clarke watched Natasha, with yearning, with need and hunger. But she never intended to act on her desires, unless Natasha did something first.

Because she was a monster, and Natasha deserved so, so much better than her.

But when Natasha watched Clarke? The way in which she watched Clarke, the intent that Clarke felt behind it, was predatory. Clearly predatory.

She knew she wasn't wrong.

She had seen how Natasha looked at her, had felt the intentions behind her staring, her knowing looks.

Clarke never commented on it, but she'd look at Natasha when she felt Natasha's eyes on her, and Natasha? She never looked away. Not once.

Clarke could see the heat in those dangerous, beautiful green eyes whenever Natasha looked at her, and caught Clarke looking at her. Natasha wasn't worried about Clarke seeing her watching the younger woman.

If anything, the smirk that crossed Natasha's face whenever Clarke and Natasha met their eyes, told Clarke that Natasha had wanted Clarke to see her looking.

Like today, when Clarke was training with Thor-as Thor was the only one besides the Hulk, who was more or less safe sparring with Clarke, given Clarke's extreme strength, and they were outside, flying around, sparring with each other, that Clarke could feel Natasha's gaze on her person.

After Clarke had knocked Thor unconscious, Steve and Rhodes both going to help him, Clarke had lowered herself down from the air, down onto the ground and had caught Natasha watching from the bench where she and Clint had been sitting.

And Clarke saw how Natasha was looking at her.

Clint looked between them and quickly understood what was going on between his two daughters-daughters by soul, not blood, obviously and he had gotten up and had left, allowing both women some privacy.

Clarke stood there, feeling the heat coming off of Natasha.

She could see the intention in Natasha's gaze. The intention of hunting Clarke and wanting Clarke to know that Natasha was hunting her.

It was so intense that it felt like a burning line of flame through the air, connecting the two women.

Clarke also knew that this couldn't be maintained. There would have to be an outcome to all this. And she was positive that Natasha knew that too.

After what felt like almost fifteen minutes after Clint had left, Clarke had finally broken the ice and had walked over to Natasha and had said almost quietly, but loud enough for Natasha to hear, "You know we're probably gonna have to talk about this at some point, right?"

Natasha-the audacity of that woman, had smirked more widely and had asked, "Talk about what, Clarke?"

Clarke had nearly grunted at that, but had restrained herself.

She knew that Natasha was playing with her. Playing with her and hunting her.

Like a big cat tracking a deer across the plains.

Clarke had then snorted and said, "What do you want, Natasha?"

Natasha peered up at Clarke, smirking still. "What do you want, Clarke?" She asked back.

Needless to say, a challenge had been thrown down in front of Clarke.

Clarke could have Natasha, but only if Clarke was willing to be in a relationship with Natasha that involved more than just sex. And only if Clarke allowed Natasha to have her way with her.

Only if Clarke was willing to ask for what she really wanted.

And five days later?

Clarke eventually asked for what she wanted. And Natasha cut to the chase, gave up the hunting and pounced upon Clarke like a cat upon its prey.

It had been after a particularly fast mission. A soldier had tried to kill Natasha and Clarke had learned of it and had gone into a rage, snarling about it. Then Natasha had stared at Clarke the whole time, had gone over to her, had taken Clarke's hand and had led Clarke to her room.

Clarke had understood what Natasha had wanted her to do and Clarke had realized that she needed to act on her desires, needs and feelings at that very moment, if she wanted a relationship ever with Natasha.

Clarke had nodded to Natasha and had rested her head on Natasha's right shoulder, had nodded against the older woman and had said, "I'm ready, Natasha. I promise, I'm ready now."

Natasha had looked at her, paused and had asked, "Are you sure, love. Are you absolutely sure?"

Clarke had nodded. "Yes," she said, unable to help the desperation in her voice.

"Then I need you to be honest with me, Clarke," Natasha said, looking down at the younger woman, "Tell me what exactly you want me to do. And I want you to be completely honest with me. That's the only way that we'll be doing anything, love."

Clarke had nodded, shivered and started telling Natasha everything that she wanted Natasha to do to her.

After everything Clarke had told Natasha, telling the redhead that she wanted Natasha to spank her, to tie her down-even though she was physically stronger than Natasha, she wanted Natasha to fist her, to ride Clarke's face and wanted Natasha to eat her out for hours and hours until she passed out, and she wanted Natasha to fuck her with a strap-on over and over again.

And Clarke told her so much more.

Including…..that she wanted Natasha to hold Clarke to her breasts afterwards, holding her like a mother would, and letting Clarke call the redhead "mommy" all the while.

The look on Natasha's face when Clarke had told her that?

It had been the most terrifying, yet arousing expressions that Clarke had ever seen in her entire life.

Clarke had felt heat, a disturbing amount of heat travel down to between her legs as soon as Natasha had given her that look in response to Clarke giving Natasha the impassioned speech about what she wanted.

Natasha made it clear then that the hunt was now over.

She had pulled Clarke to her and had pinned the younger woman to the bed.

And then, like the predator that Natasha was, she had pounced on Clarke and had her way with the younger woman that was pliable in her hands.

And Clarke screamed in pleasure as Natasha took her over and over again, moaning "mommy" out into the room the whole time, more than happy to let Natasha have her way with her and take her like a predator to devour her prey.