![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Title: Intimacy
Author:![[info]](https://redbrunja.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.3)
redbrunja
Rating: R
Characters: Clint/Natasha.
Warning: violence.
Author's Note: written for the avengers comment meme. And because I find the question of what kind of death Natasha would fear the most very interesting.
Summary: "No, I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And when he wakes, he'll have just enough time to see the work he's done."
It's a fraction of a miscalculation, her left foot just a hair too heavy, her reaction time just a touch too slow and Clint takes ful advantage, kicks her legs out from under her (and she could recover, she's recovered from worse) only he slams her temple against one of the walkways railings as she goes down and black bursts across her vision.
Clint gets her on her back, his weight heavy and across her hips as he straddles her, the position horribly familiar as he leans forward, drawing an arrow from its sheath and stabbing it through her right wrist, through one of the slats of the walkway, twisting so the arrowhead locks.
"Clint," she says, voice thick, and he stabs another arrow through her left wrist.
"What do you want me to do with her, boss?" Clint asks, and over his shoulder Loki smiles, sickly and scythe-sharp.
"You know exactly what to do, Hawkeye,"
Clint nods and reaches for her neck. He takes a moment, gets the grip just right. He has strong hands; hands that have left bruises on her skin from sparring sessions, from bed-sport, callused hands she knows as well as she knows her own. Clint takes his well-known hands and snaps her neck.
A sharp burst of pain, and it's done. Her broken ribs, her wrists, assorted pains - all gone from her consciousness - because she is still conscious, horribly, horribly conscious when Clint puts an almost-gentle hand over her mouth and cuts off her air. It's not as if she can struggle, can she? No, she lies limp under him, truly helpless, while he suffocates her with a blank expression on his face. White bleeds across her vision, turns to shadows, while Loki laughs and laughs and laughs.
Clint wakes up already in motion. Natasha is across the room, speaking. He can't hear what she's saying over the roar of blood in his ears. His heart is racing and her hands are empty. He's compromised and she's not holding a weapon on him and–
He's across the room, moving on instinct.
"Clint, you're having a nightmare," she says, the words barely making sense, she's in danger, doesn't she get that, doesn't she understand?
He grabs her shoulders and she shrugs out of his hold and slams her fist into his solar plexus, the motions automatic and the concerned expression never leaving her face. He goes to his knees and the relief -she's better than him, she'll always be better than him at this, as long as he doesn't have a weapon she'll survive him–
He could hurt her though, he has hurt her, so. So she needs to be out of this room. Out of any room he's in. Clint lungs back to his feet gets his shoulder in her stomach and practically throws her out the door and into the hall.
She lets him, lands lightly on her toes. He has time to see her expression, which looks frankly, gutted, before he slaps the door closed, locks it, and finally manages to suck in a gasping breath. He puts his back to the door, slides down, rests his head against his knees.
"Clint, you're having a nightmare," Natasha repeats and she must be kneeling right next to the door, for her voice to be so clear. "Please open the door."
"Nat," he manages, after several tries. "Nat, you need - I need you to be- I need you to be far away from me right now."
He stays next to the door for a long time, long enough for his breathing to steady. He doesn't hear anything more from Natasha but he knows she's there. She thinks she owes him too much to walk away, and he doesn't have the words to explain how wrong she is.
Author:
redbrunjaRating: R
Characters: Clint/Natasha.
Warning: violence.
Author's Note: written for the avengers comment meme. And because I find the question of what kind of death Natasha would fear the most very interesting.
Summary: "No, I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And when he wakes, he'll have just enough time to see the work he's done."
It's a fraction of a miscalculation, her left foot just a hair too heavy, her reaction time just a touch too slow and Clint takes ful advantage, kicks her legs out from under her (and she could recover, she's recovered from worse) only he slams her temple against one of the walkways railings as she goes down and black bursts across her vision.
Clint gets her on her back, his weight heavy and across her hips as he straddles her, the position horribly familiar as he leans forward, drawing an arrow from its sheath and stabbing it through her right wrist, through one of the slats of the walkway, twisting so the arrowhead locks.
"Clint," she says, voice thick, and he stabs another arrow through her left wrist.
"What do you want me to do with her, boss?" Clint asks, and over his shoulder Loki smiles, sickly and scythe-sharp.
"You know exactly what to do, Hawkeye,"
Clint nods and reaches for her neck. He takes a moment, gets the grip just right. He has strong hands; hands that have left bruises on her skin from sparring sessions, from bed-sport, callused hands she knows as well as she knows her own. Clint takes his well-known hands and snaps her neck.
A sharp burst of pain, and it's done. Her broken ribs, her wrists, assorted pains - all gone from her consciousness - because she is still conscious, horribly, horribly conscious when Clint puts an almost-gentle hand over her mouth and cuts off her air. It's not as if she can struggle, can she? No, she lies limp under him, truly helpless, while he suffocates her with a blank expression on his face. White bleeds across her vision, turns to shadows, while Loki laughs and laughs and laughs.
Clint wakes up already in motion. Natasha is across the room, speaking. He can't hear what she's saying over the roar of blood in his ears. His heart is racing and her hands are empty. He's compromised and she's not holding a weapon on him and–
He's across the room, moving on instinct.
"Clint, you're having a nightmare," she says, the words barely making sense, she's in danger, doesn't she get that, doesn't she understand?
He grabs her shoulders and she shrugs out of his hold and slams her fist into his solar plexus, the motions automatic and the concerned expression never leaving her face. He goes to his knees and the relief -she's better than him, she'll always be better than him at this, as long as he doesn't have a weapon she'll survive him–
He could hurt her though, he has hurt her, so. So she needs to be out of this room. Out of any room he's in. Clint lungs back to his feet gets his shoulder in her stomach and practically throws her out the door and into the hall.
She lets him, lands lightly on her toes. He has time to see her expression, which looks frankly, gutted, before he slaps the door closed, locks it, and finally manages to suck in a gasping breath. He puts his back to the door, slides down, rests his head against his knees.
"Clint, you're having a nightmare," Natasha repeats and she must be kneeling right next to the door, for her voice to be so clear. "Please open the door."
"Nat," he manages, after several tries. "Nat, you need - I need you to be- I need you to be far away from me right now."
He stays next to the door for a long time, long enough for his breathing to steady. He doesn't hear anything more from Natasha but he knows she's there. She thinks she owes him too much to walk away, and he doesn't have the words to explain how wrong she is.
no subject
Ouchy.
no subject
no subject
And I love that it's not your typical hurt/comfort either. Since she's the person he's terrified of hurting, she can't be the one to comfort him. It wasn't what I was expecting going into it, but I love how it turned out.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
there is a reason why I need to see this movie. and I think you've just given it to me, in this utterly screwed-up piece that makes total sense.
How dare you do that to my emotions.
no subject