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When Clint walked into his apartment, the shower was running. He felt a smile tug at his mouth.
For a half a second he considered waiting, considering letting Nat come to him with warm, damp skin, toweling her hair dry.
Clint was patient when he needed to be but he wasn’t a masochist; it had been six weeks since he’d seen Natasha, SHIELD needing them on different continents. That half a second of consideration was an almost criminal waste of time.
“It’s me,” he said as he tapped on the bathroom door and came in, even though Nat would have heard the front door open and recognized his footsteps coming down the hall.
Natasha pulled the curtain back, tilted her head imperiously, a command. Her red hair was slicked back, her body gloriously naked and flushed with heat. She looked like she was ready to command armies; she looked like every fantasy he’d jerked off to in the last month and a half. Clint shouldered his way into the shower with her, water drumming against his back, pushing Nat against the tiles. She clawed her way into his arms, kissing him, hungry, greedy.
“I missed this,” Natasha panted, one hand squirming between their bodies and starting to work on his belt, and he knew her well enough to hear, I missed you.
He slipped one thigh between her legs and pressing up. She ground against him even as she unzipped his pants, took him in hand.
“Same,” Clint said, mouth dry.
For a half a second he considered waiting, considering letting Nat come to him with warm, damp skin, toweling her hair dry.
Clint was patient when he needed to be but he wasn’t a masochist; it had been six weeks since he’d seen Natasha, SHIELD needing them on different continents. That half a second of consideration was an almost criminal waste of time.
“It’s me,” he said as he tapped on the bathroom door and came in, even though Nat would have heard the front door open and recognized his footsteps coming down the hall.
Natasha pulled the curtain back, tilted her head imperiously, a command. Her red hair was slicked back, her body gloriously naked and flushed with heat. She looked like she was ready to command armies; she looked like every fantasy he’d jerked off to in the last month and a half. Clint shouldered his way into the shower with her, water drumming against his back, pushing Nat against the tiles. She clawed her way into his arms, kissing him, hungry, greedy.
“I missed this,” Natasha panted, one hand squirming between their bodies and starting to work on his belt, and he knew her well enough to hear, I missed you.
He slipped one thigh between her legs and pressing up. She ground against him even as she unzipped his pants, took him in hand.
“Same,” Clint said, mouth dry.