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Title: You Will Always Fall In Love, And It Will Always Be Like Having Your Throat Cut
Author: redbrunja
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Clint/Natasha.
Warning: sexual content, sexist slurs.
Summary: Natasha Romanoff moves like the flash of light off a knife blade.
Barney only likes women who will fuck him, or he thinks will fuck him. The rest he calls 'em frigid and bitches and Clint wants to tell him to knock it off, but Clint's aware that the brother he ran away with is getting further and further away, the closer Barney gets to eighteen, and he's pretty sure that that conversation would end with punches.
Barney only likes men who he thinks are going to take him places, and Clint's never been going anywhere, everyone's always been real clear about that.
Maybe that's why it doesn't matter to him if the prettiest acrobat doesn't give him the time of day; she's still the most graceful thing he's ever seen, twisting through the air like gravity doesn't dare touch her.
Later, Clint learns what true grace looks like. Doesn't matter what's she's doing - killing, dancing, stirring her coffee, clearing her weapons, reading a briefing - Natasha Romanoff moves like the flash of light off a knife blade.
"Are you going to make a move anytime this decade?" she asks, pulling her hair up into a high pony tail, curls spilling down like flames. She's standing in the kitchen of his apartment, peeling linoleum beneath her feet, her eyes cool as water.
"Wasn't planning on it," Clint says, because it's true, because there's no point in lying to Nat, because she's the best goddamn thing in his life, and he's not going to fuck it up, fuck them up. He's never been greedy.
She walks over to him, puts her mouth a whisper away from his.
"I am," she breaths, and he realizes he said the last part out loud. Clint didn't decide to reach for her but he's got his hands on her hips, thumb gently stroking the skin just above the waistband of her jeans before he can think twice about it. Natasha kisses exactly like he always imagined; sweet and skilled and just a little mean. It's no time at all before he's groaning into her mouth, feeling wrecked already, and both of them still clothed. He's got his hand in her pants, between her thighs, and she's pressing herself against his fingers, shifting her hips restlessly, deliciously wet. She nips his bottom lip when his thumb circles her clit.
"Harder," she tells him, letting her head fall back, letting him see her pleasure as he brings her off with just his fingers. And he'd lie, say that was enough, he'd live on whatever scraps of herself that Natasha chose to give him, but he doesn't have to. Nat is shaking from her first orgasm, pupils blown black and eyes wide, and she shoves him to his knees, both of them working to pull her jeans off. "More," she orders, voice pitched too high to be properly commanding.
Clint gets his mouth on her, licks into the salt-sweet of her cunt, taking everything she wants him to have.
Author's Note: Literally written at 2:30 a.m. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sugar_fey's prompt from Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente, "A farmer wants his son to be afraid of beautiful women, so he will not leave home too soon, so he tells a story about how one drowned his brother's cousin's friend in a lake, not because he was a pig who deserved to be drowned, but because beautiful women are bad, and also witches. And it doesn't matter that she didn't ask to be beautiful, or to be born in a lake, or to live forever, or to not know how men breathe until they stop doing it."
Author: redbrunja
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Clint/Natasha.
Warning: sexual content, sexist slurs.
Summary: Natasha Romanoff moves like the flash of light off a knife blade.
Barney only likes women who will fuck him, or he thinks will fuck him. The rest he calls 'em frigid and bitches and Clint wants to tell him to knock it off, but Clint's aware that the brother he ran away with is getting further and further away, the closer Barney gets to eighteen, and he's pretty sure that that conversation would end with punches.
Barney only likes men who he thinks are going to take him places, and Clint's never been going anywhere, everyone's always been real clear about that.
Maybe that's why it doesn't matter to him if the prettiest acrobat doesn't give him the time of day; she's still the most graceful thing he's ever seen, twisting through the air like gravity doesn't dare touch her.
Later, Clint learns what true grace looks like. Doesn't matter what's she's doing - killing, dancing, stirring her coffee, clearing her weapons, reading a briefing - Natasha Romanoff moves like the flash of light off a knife blade.
"Are you going to make a move anytime this decade?" she asks, pulling her hair up into a high pony tail, curls spilling down like flames. She's standing in the kitchen of his apartment, peeling linoleum beneath her feet, her eyes cool as water.
"Wasn't planning on it," Clint says, because it's true, because there's no point in lying to Nat, because she's the best goddamn thing in his life, and he's not going to fuck it up, fuck them up. He's never been greedy.
She walks over to him, puts her mouth a whisper away from his.
"I am," she breaths, and he realizes he said the last part out loud. Clint didn't decide to reach for her but he's got his hands on her hips, thumb gently stroking the skin just above the waistband of her jeans before he can think twice about it. Natasha kisses exactly like he always imagined; sweet and skilled and just a little mean. It's no time at all before he's groaning into her mouth, feeling wrecked already, and both of them still clothed. He's got his hand in her pants, between her thighs, and she's pressing herself against his fingers, shifting her hips restlessly, deliciously wet. She nips his bottom lip when his thumb circles her clit.
"Harder," she tells him, letting her head fall back, letting him see her pleasure as he brings her off with just his fingers. And he'd lie, say that was enough, he'd live on whatever scraps of herself that Natasha chose to give him, but he doesn't have to. Nat is shaking from her first orgasm, pupils blown black and eyes wide, and she shoves him to his knees, both of them working to pull her jeans off. "More," she orders, voice pitched too high to be properly commanding.
Clint gets his mouth on her, licks into the salt-sweet of her cunt, taking everything she wants him to have.
Author's Note: Literally written at 2:30 a.m. Written for
sugar_fey's prompt from Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente, "A farmer wants his son to be afraid of beautiful women, so he will not leave home too soon, so he tells a story about how one drowned his brother's cousin's friend in a lake, not because he was a pig who deserved to be drowned, but because beautiful women are bad, and also witches. And it doesn't matter that she didn't ask to be beautiful, or to be born in a lake, or to live forever, or to not know how men breathe until they stop doing it."
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