Agony
Agony
*Smut* This is my first real attempt of any smut and I don't know how it'll turn out, so please review & tell me what to work on or what I should put into further detail.;) Just don't be too harsh, I'm trying to improve. ~xo
Clint had barely shut his door before she shoved it back open, but this time he was prepared to meet her aggressive body language with his own arrogance. Before she could even wrap her arms around him, he lifted Natasha off her feet and forced her up against the wall, blocking her way out with his body. Not that she really wanted to get out of this. Clint kissed her with the same ferocity that Natasha had. She reluctantly broke the kiss for air and she lifted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist.
While apart, he pulled his head back a little more, and seeing that the door was still opened wide for everyone to see, he decided to comment, not actually caring, "The door–"
Natasha had caught her breath enough to continue when she responded. "Who cares, Barton?"
"Whoa, Romanoff." At this, she raised an eyebrow at him.
Instead of responding with words, she brought him back to her, this time the kiss passionate but still very heated with lust and hunger for each other. He smiled into the kiss as he continued to rip off her jeans, exposing her perfect legs, taking his right hand off her waist down to rest on her thigh. The simple motion made her moan into him, unable to keep anything in anymore. He loosened his grip on her, still supporting her with his hips holding them both to the wall. Natasha took this as an invitation to pull off some of his clothing. She didn't look away from those bluish-grey eyes as she tore his shirt off his body, making sure to destroy it.
When she reached down for his belt, he shook his head slightly and grabbed her hands. He pinned them above her head and leaned back in to kiss her. Then he stopped with his mouth just out of reach of hers. She bit her lip and tilted her head in confusion, but mostly suppressing another completely un-Natasha-like noise.
An evil but attractive grin spread across his face and he kept her hands up with one of his own, and began to unbutton her shirt. He would unbutton a single button and then kiss her neck in the weak spot he knew she had, which caused her to melt into his touch. Every. Single. Time. This shirt seemed to have a thousand buttons. Growing impatient, Natasha whimpered rather than ordered "Rip the fucking shirt, Clint."
Clint smirked and said "As much as I want to, Natasha," He said her name in the sexiest way possible and she let out another gasp of surprising pleasure at mere words. "I don't think it'd be as fun as this is." Then he somehow managed to go slower.
As soon as he undid the last button, she squirmed so she could finally remove his pants, and if she was lucky, his boxers. He shook his head again and moved her hands back up away from his lower body, putting them around his neck. "I'm not your toy," she told him. "Hurry up. I'm getting impatient."
He chuckled and said huskily "No kidding." His plan to drag this out as long as possible was absolute and utter torture. She was in just her lacy bra and thoroughly soaked panties while he still had a lot of clothing on and it was getting in the way. He almost gave in. Almost. He reached down between her legs, and the second he touched her, even with her underwear still on, she gasped, letting out an unexpected squeal. He had barely even touched her, but he loved that he got this response when he grazed her most sensitive area at the moment. "Jesus, Nat. I haven't even done anything." He said, back to grinning like a mischievous idiot at her.
She gazed deep into his eyes and the look of pure desperation for him in her eyes was what literally sprung Clint into action. He put his arms on either side of her head, palms against the wall, letting her take off his pants. "Finally," she almost cried out in joy and appreciation of her partner's sudden loss of clothes. "I think it's time to move." She wasn't necessarily talking about moving to a bed, but if that's what happened, so be it.
Clint carried her easily into the semi-messy bedroom. He wasn't a slob, but he wasn't a neat freak either. Lightly throwing her into the very expensive and very comfortable bed that Tony Stark so graciously provided him, he was quick to join her. "Hey Tash, I think I'm getting sleepy." He faked a yawn.
"Don't you fucking dare tease me more, Barton." He now had her pinned down, the threatening tone in her voice faded into agony as he continued to delay their desired physical contact. "Please." she begged.
It was his turn to raise his eyebrows in amusement but after she pleaded, the suffering obvious, he gave in and gladly took off both her bra and panties in such speed that she let out a small snort of laughter, and grabbed at his chest, bringing his face back up to hers. She kissed him hard and searched for some sort of grip on reality but instead settled with scratching into his back, leaving sufficient marks but not quite drawing blood. He was engrossed in the kiss so much that he didn't feel the pain as actual pain. It gave him pleasure, having her leave marks all over his body, because her touch now was more than scratching, but a cry out to show how much she needed and wanted him right now.
"Oh God, Nat." He got in between short breaks in kisses for their unfortunate need of oxygen. He took his hand from her now incredibly messy hair to her neck, then trailing down her body to her center. When he reached her stomach, she gasped and bucked into him without any physical control over her body as it responded to his every touch. He continued and she kept getting louder each time he added a digit inside her. "Fuck, Clint." She couldn't control herself anymore than he could, so she let go and went over the edge breathing heavily into the crook of his neck.
Knowing that she definitely hadn't had enough, Clint made eye contact with her. The look in his eyes told her to be patient, as if it were possible, and let him continue, almost asking permission. She rolled her eyes at him and nodded. As if he, of all people, needed permission. Of course she had wanted him, very badly. They'd been partners for over 6 years and she had dreamt so many times of moments like these with none other than the Clint Barton. Even though she conceals it well, she finds him deathly irresistible and even mouth-watering at times. "God, yes." She said as he made his way down, this time with his head and trailing kisses down her body in odd patterns that made her writhe in pleasure and, again, need.
This man was so enticing and she couldn't handle it as she felt him suck, causing her to let out a massive groan that she assumed the whole city could hear. "Jesus, Clint." She pulled him back up fast and let him know with just a look that essentially told him now. "Why are those still on?" Natasha looked at his boxers, that were now bulging, and she wondered how he had kept himself together while she lost what little control she had over and over again. "And how?"
He smiled as she pulled off his boxers "Patience, my dear." His tone suggested that his patience was up and he entered her, at first smoothly and slow, tender movements but as she progressed for what seemed like the billionth time tonight, his pace began to quicken and her screams rose in both pitch and volume. Anyone in the tower could definitely hear her. The noises coming out of his mouth were much deeper than hers, therefore not heard around the world as hers were bound to be. "Fuck."
She rolled them over then laid down on him, panting. She wouldn't even be surprised if she passed out, she was that drained. "I'm not certain I can walk, Clint Barton. In fact," she paused for dramatic effect "I don't think we'll leave this bed for a while." He laughed and nodded a little too eagerly. Clearly, he didn't know that Natasha, however dazed and worn out, could still tease. "You are so going to pay. That was probably more agonizing than any torture a captor has ever put upon me. Plus, you ripped my favorite jeans."
He winced at the fact that she was right; he was going to pay. And she knows how to have the same effect on him, if not worse. "But you ruined my shirt, so we're even." He offered a small smile.
"Not a chance, Hawkboy."
"Hey, Nat?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you." Clint wasn't trying to kiss up or anything, he was being honest. Even though he hoped she'd go easier on him.
Instead of replying with a simple 'I love you too' or even a smile in his direction, she decides her best choice of words is "No shit." Pleased with her response, she relaxed into his touch and just laid there with him for about 10 minutes before adding "My turn." and her devilish grin was so much more effective than his.
That actually turned out way better than I thought. Don't forget to review, comment, critique and corrections are definitely accepted. Let me know how I did. Follow me on tumblr. ~xo
Clint had barely shut his door before she shoved it back open, but this time he was prepared to meet her aggressive body language with his own arrogance. Before she could even wrap her arms around him, he lifted Natasha off her feet and forced her up against the wall, blocking her way out with his body. Not that she really wanted to get out of this. Clint kissed her with the same ferocity that Natasha had. She reluctantly broke the kiss for air and she lifted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist.
While apart, he pulled his head back a little more, and seeing that the door was still opened wide for everyone to see, he decided to comment, not actually caring, "The door–"
Natasha had caught her breath enough to continue when she responded. "Who cares, Barton?"
"Whoa, Romanoff." At this, she raised an eyebrow at him.
Instead of responding with words, she brought him back to her, this time the kiss passionate but still very heated with lust and hunger for each other. He smiled into the kiss as he continued to rip off her jeans, exposing her perfect legs, taking his right hand off her waist down to rest on her thigh. The simple motion made her moan into him, unable to keep anything in anymore. He loosened his grip on her, still supporting her with his hips holding them both to the wall. Natasha took this as an invitation to pull off some of his clothing. She didn't look away from those bluish-grey eyes as she tore his shirt off his body, making sure to destroy it.
When she reached down for his belt, he shook his head slightly and grabbed her hands. He pinned them above her head and leaned back in to kiss her. Then he stopped with his mouth just out of reach of hers. She bit her lip and tilted her head in confusion, but mostly suppressing another completely un-Natasha-like noise.
An evil but attractive grin spread across his face and he kept her hands up with one of his own, and began to unbutton her shirt. He would unbutton a single button and then kiss her neck in the weak spot he knew she had, which caused her to melt into his touch. Every. Single. Time. This shirt seemed to have a thousand buttons. Growing impatient, Natasha whimpered rather than ordered "Rip the fucking shirt, Clint."
Clint smirked and said "As much as I want to, Natasha," He said her name in the sexiest way possible and she let out another gasp of surprising pleasure at mere words. "I don't think it'd be as fun as this is." Then he somehow managed to go slower.
As soon as he undid the last button, she squirmed so she could finally remove his pants, and if she was lucky, his boxers. He shook his head again and moved her hands back up away from his lower body, putting them around his neck. "I'm not your toy," she told him. "Hurry up. I'm getting impatient."
He chuckled and said huskily "No kidding." His plan to drag this out as long as possible was absolute and utter torture. She was in just her lacy bra and thoroughly soaked panties while he still had a lot of clothing on and it was getting in the way. He almost gave in. Almost. He reached down between her legs, and the second he touched her, even with her underwear still on, she gasped, letting out an unexpected squeal. He had barely even touched her, but he loved that he got this response when he grazed her most sensitive area at the moment. "Jesus, Nat. I haven't even done anything." He said, back to grinning like a mischievous idiot at her.
She gazed deep into his eyes and the look of pure desperation for him in her eyes was what literally sprung Clint into action. He put his arms on either side of her head, palms against the wall, letting her take off his pants. "Finally," she almost cried out in joy and appreciation of her partner's sudden loss of clothes. "I think it's time to move." She wasn't necessarily talking about moving to a bed, but if that's what happened, so be it.
Clint carried her easily into the semi-messy bedroom. He wasn't a slob, but he wasn't a neat freak either. Lightly throwing her into the very expensive and very comfortable bed that Tony Stark so graciously provided him, he was quick to join her. "Hey Tash, I think I'm getting sleepy." He faked a yawn.
"Don't you fucking dare tease me more, Barton." He now had her pinned down, the threatening tone in her voice faded into agony as he continued to delay their desired physical contact. "Please." she begged.
It was his turn to raise his eyebrows in amusement but after she pleaded, the suffering obvious, he gave in and gladly took off both her bra and panties in such speed that she let out a small snort of laughter, and grabbed at his chest, bringing his face back up to hers. She kissed him hard and searched for some sort of grip on reality but instead settled with scratching into his back, leaving sufficient marks but not quite drawing blood. He was engrossed in the kiss so much that he didn't feel the pain as actual pain. It gave him pleasure, having her leave marks all over his body, because her touch now was more than scratching, but a cry out to show how much she needed and wanted him right now.
"Oh God, Nat." He got in between short breaks in kisses for their unfortunate need of oxygen. He took his hand from her now incredibly messy hair to her neck, then trailing down her body to her center. When he reached her stomach, she gasped and bucked into him without any physical control over her body as it responded to his every touch. He continued and she kept getting louder each time he added a digit inside her. "Fuck, Clint." She couldn't control herself anymore than he could, so she let go and went over the edge breathing heavily into the crook of his neck.
Knowing that she definitely hadn't had enough, Clint made eye contact with her. The look in his eyes told her to be patient, as if it were possible, and let him continue, almost asking permission. She rolled her eyes at him and nodded. As if he, of all people, needed permission. Of course she had wanted him, very badly. They'd been partners for over 6 years and she had dreamt so many times of moments like these with none other than the Clint Barton. Even though she conceals it well, she finds him deathly irresistible and even mouth-watering at times. "God, yes." She said as he made his way down, this time with his head and trailing kisses down her body in odd patterns that made her writhe in pleasure and, again, need.
This man was so enticing and she couldn't handle it as she felt him suck, causing her to let out a massive groan that she assumed the whole city could hear. "Jesus, Clint." She pulled him back up fast and let him know with just a look that essentially told him now. "Why are those still on?" Natasha looked at his boxers, that were now bulging, and she wondered how he had kept himself together while she lost what little control she had over and over again. "And how?"
He smiled as she pulled off his boxers "Patience, my dear." His tone suggested that his patience was up and he entered her, at first smoothly and slow, tender movements but as she progressed for what seemed like the billionth time tonight, his pace began to quicken and her screams rose in both pitch and volume. Anyone in the tower could definitely hear her. The noises coming out of his mouth were much deeper than hers, therefore not heard around the world as hers were bound to be. "Fuck."
She rolled them over then laid down on him, panting. She wouldn't even be surprised if she passed out, she was that drained. "I'm not certain I can walk, Clint Barton. In fact," she paused for dramatic effect "I don't think we'll leave this bed for a while." He laughed and nodded a little too eagerly. Clearly, he didn't know that Natasha, however dazed and worn out, could still tease. "You are so going to pay. That was probably more agonizing than any torture a captor has ever put upon me. Plus, you ripped my favorite jeans."
He winced at the fact that she was right; he was going to pay. And she knows how to have the same effect on him, if not worse. "But you ruined my shirt, so we're even." He offered a small smile.
"Not a chance, Hawkboy."
"Hey, Nat?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you." Clint wasn't trying to kiss up or anything, he was being honest. Even though he hoped she'd go easier on him.
Instead of replying with a simple 'I love you too' or even a smile in his direction, she decides her best choice of words is "No shit." Pleased with her response, she relaxed into his touch and just laid there with him for about 10 minutes before adding "My turn." and her devilish grin was so much more effective than his.
That actually turned out way better than I thought. Don't forget to review, comment, critique and corrections are definitely accepted. Let me know how I did. Follow me on tumblr. ~xo
@ClintashaIsMyEverything
It was really smutty considering who wrote it, you dirty. People who find this googling porn will be ecstatic because who doesn't love a good Clintasha? NOBODY. So shut up.
3/18/14