Chapter Text
When Clint and Natasha first met, they both realized it was inevitable that they would have pornographic sex. They’re both attractive people, and there’s a lot of chemistry between them. Add to that chemistry a level of trust that they reserve only for each other, and the sex turned out to be more than just pornographic. It’s positively sheet-scorching.
But they’re both kind of flighty, and they both like the rush of seduction, so while they have all kinds of awesome, emotionally-bonded sex together, they also like to fuck other people when the mood strikes. One telling the other about a particularly good sexual escapade usually leads to even more mind-blowing sex, and they’re happy with that.
So after all that Avengers shit dies down, they hole up in Natasha’s apartment in New York for a few days and refuse to answer their phones. They've been apart for too long thanks to one mission or another: Natasha in California, babysitting Tony Stark, and then in Russia; Clint in New Mexico, first as Coulson's eyes in the sky and then guarding Selvig; and then all that crap with Loki. They make up for it by not getting dressed for a solid 72 hours.
“So,” Natasha purrs, licking Clint’s come off of her lips. “Have any fun in New Mexico? Before the Selvig thing, that is.”
Clint can’t answer for a minute; Natasha’s blowjobs do that to him. “You are going to suck me dry one of these days,” he pants, and she gives him a particularly smug grin.
“Um. Fun. Yeah,” he finally says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Met this girl. Probably too young for me.”
“Are we talking Barely Legal material?” she teases, crawling up to lie on her side beside him.
“Oh god, no,” he says, rolling to face her and stroking the soft skin of her hip. “Early twenties. College girl. Brunette, cute, fucking amazing tits.”
“Better than mine?” Natasha says with a raised eyebrow.
Clint grins. “Yours are by far my favorite tits in the whole world,” he said, burying his face in them.
“Good. Now,” she says, interrupting herself with a moan when Clint sucks on her nipples. “Oh! Oh, god... now, tell me. What did you do to this cute young thing with great tits?”
Clint hums in response, giving her nipple one last suck and moving up her body, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and sliding his other hand between her legs. “Mm, you’re wet,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to glance over her parted lips. “Well, we ended up getting drunk and fucking in the back room of a bar in Puente Antiguo.”
“Classy,” Natasha gasps as he pushes two fingers into her pussy. “How did you do her? Did you bend her over a box and fuck her from behind? Or did she get down on her knees and suck you off?”
Clint groans in response, and also because Natasha’s just wrapped a hand around his cock and is stroking him back to hardness. “You... you know me too well, baby,” he rumbles, crooking his fingers so that he’s rubbing her g-spot with every stroke. “Bent her over a table and ate her pussy, then fucked her hard. God, she was so wet. Begging for my cock.”
Natasha cries out, rolling onto her back a little, her hips canting up against his hand like they do when she’s close to coming. He fingerfucks her harder, rubbing his thumb against her clit in gentle circles. “And... and... oh!” she moans, gripping his cock tight with one hand and his forearm with the other. “And how did you finish off?”
“She got down on her knees,” he growls, leaning so he’s hovering over her. “Pulled the condom off me and jerked me off until I came all over her gorgeous tits.”
Natasha’s back arches sharply and her cunt starts contracting around his fingers, releasing a gush of fluid that soaks his forearm. He loves making her come like this, and no matter how hot it is with other women, it’s never as good as it is with Natasha. She shudders a few more times, and then tugs on his arm until he pulls his fingers free.
When he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, she has to close her eyes for a second, the sight sending a few last jolts of pleasure through her body. “Jesus, I missed you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her.
“I missed you, too,” she whispers back, running her fingers through his messy hair. “It’s good to have you back.”
He pulls back a little and gives her a soft smile, one that makes her heart flutter a little bit. And then the grin turns foxy, and she feels her own lips curving up to match his. “How about you?” he asks, trailing damp fingers over her collarbone. “Did you have any fun in California?”
“Actually, no,” she says. “Natalie Rushman is all business. And Stark’s enough of a handful that I couldn’t afford to be distracted.”
“Aw,” he says, looking like Christmas had just been called off, and Natasha laughed and took mercy on him.
“But I did have some fun here in New York, right before I left for Russia,” she says, and his eyes light up.
“Do tell,” he rumbles, moving so he’s lying between her legs, half on top of her with his chest pressed against her belly.
He bends his head to her breasts and starts trailing kisses over the sensitive skin, making her squirm underneath him. “Oh, I just took a girl out to a bar,” she says, wrapping one leg around his hip, her heel against the back of his thigh.
“Ooh, a girl?” he says, giving her an intrigued eyebrow. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a girl.”
“I know!” she replies with a wide-eyed, faux-innocent look that makes him laugh.
“Heh. So tell me about this girl,” he says, dropping his mouth back down to her breast and licking a slow circle around her nipple.
“Mm,” she sighs, stretching her arms above her head. “Pretty, young, brunette. And in an amazing coincidence, she also had a great rack. We obviously have similar taste in women, Barton.”
“My good taste has obviously rubbed off on you. So you took this girl to a club, and...”
He sucks her nipple into his mouth, and Natasha brings a hand to the back of his head to keep him there. “We had a few martinis, had a few laughs,” she says a little breathlessly; Clint is way too good with that tongue of his. “She wasn’t from New York, so she was feeling a little... lonely.”
Clint lets her nipple slip from his mouth and gives her a grin. “And you helped the poor little out-of-town girl feel a little less lonely?” he teases.
“Hey,” she says, tugging at his hair. “Weren’t you doing something? Get back to it. And... well, it was more like she got tipsy and stuck her tongue in my mouth in the middle of the club, much to the surprise of the asshole who’d been hitting on us both all evening.”
He lets out a little huff of laughter, a breath that’s cool against her damp skin, but keeps sucking her nipple until she’s rolling her hips underneath him, trying to rub herself against his stomach.
“So we caught a cab back to my apartment--” she continues, but Clint raises his head again, much to her annoyance.
“You brought her back here? Oh, please tell me you fucked her on this bed.”
“On the couch,” Natasha corrects him, then gives him a very pointed look.
He grins lazily and licks her other nipple. "Keep going," he says, shifting a little so he can rub his erection against her leg.
Sinking her fingers into his hair again, she sighs when he trails kisses along the underside of her breast. "She was nervous," Natasha says. "It was cute. I'm pretty sure she's had sex with women before, so I'm not sure--"
"Babe," Clint interrupts, his voice a little muffled by her breast. "You're... kind of intimidating."
Natasha chews on that thought for a second and then smirks. "Aw, do I intimidate you?"
"Maybe a little, but I'm enough of a badass to take you on."
"Yeah, okay," Natasha laughs. "Anyway, she was nervous, so I had to take the lead. But as soon as I got her shirt off, she became rather... enthusiastic."
He gives her that foxy grin again, peeking at her from between her breasts. "Enthusiastic how?" he says.
"I'll tell you if you shut up and put your mouth to better use, Barton."
"Yes, ma'am," he says with a salute, dropping his mouth down to press open-mouthed kisses against the dip between her breasts.
Her head falling back, Natasha runs her fingers through his hair and shifts just enough to grind her clit against the hard muscles of his stomach. "She had the most amazing lips," she murmurs. "I loved kissing her. And I loved having those lips in... other places."
Clint groans softly and pushes himself up, hitching her legs around his hips and sliding into her in a hot, wet glide. She gasps and grips his biceps, feeling the strong muscles shift as he slowly works his cock in and out. "I pushed her down on the couch," Natasha moans. "And started to go down on her, but she pulled me up to straddle her head, and we made each other come with our tongues first."
"Oh fuck," Clint breathes, punctuating his words with a slightly rougher thrust.
"Mm, then I turned around, and she wrapped her arms around me so we could kiss. Let me tell you, that girl knew her way around a clitoris."
At that, Clint laughs and sits up on his heels, pulling her ass up to rest on his thighs, changing the angle of his thrusts just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her body.
"Ah!" she gasps, fisting her hands in the sheets. "She... ah... she got me off with her fingers, and then I played with her breasts until she was writhing underneath me. My god, her breasts were amazing, and so sensitive. When I was sucking her nipple, all I had to do with push my fingers into her cunt and she came--"
She has to stop her story at that point because Clint's gripping her hips tight, fucking her hard and fast, the broad head of his cock bumping against her g-spot on the way in and dragging against it on the way out. Natasha throws her hands out to brace herself against the headboard, and she's coming far more quickly than she would have expected possible, pushed over the edge by the feel of him inside her and the thrill of recounting her encounter with the girl.
Clint holds her hips steady as she comes, and her whole body is into this one; she jerks and shudders and screams, her pussy gripping his cock tight as a fucking hand, and she squirts again, three or four gushes of hot liquid against his stomach and groin. Clint would probably be impressed with his sexual prowess if he wasn't coming himself, pushing his dick as deep as it will go and spilling inside her.
He slowly slumps forward as his cock jerks a few last times, and Natasha is giving him that debauched grin that he loves so much, laughing breathlessly. "That good, huh?" she says, squeezing him with her pussy and wringing a few more shivers out of his body.
Sliding his knees back, he collapses on top of her, going completely limp. She laughs harder and pushes at his shoulders, not hard enough to actually make him budge but just to wriggle underneath him and make him groan when she bucks her hips up against his.
"Ugh, stop deadweighting," she complains, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "You weigh a ton, you know."
"It's all of my manly muscle mass," he mumbles, his face pressed against the sweet-smelling curve of her neck.
Sliding an arm underneath her, he rolls so that he's on his back and she's sprawled on top of him, her red hair spilling over his shoulder and tickling his cheek. "Y'know, I really love the sounds you make when you come," she says, wrapping her arms around his chest.
"I don't sound like I'm caught in a milking machine, do I?"
That gets a throaty laugh out of her, and Clint smiles at the ceiling.
"No, you don't sound like you're caught in a milking machine."
"Oh. Good. Because when you come that hard, it kinda feels like it."
Lifting her head from his chest, she smacks him on the arm, but she's smiling smugly, and he grins back. "Love you," he says softly.
"I know," she replies with a shrug, and he tickles her until she says it back, breathless with laughter.
Natasha drops onto the mattress beside him and stretches, her back arching and showing off her breasts very nicely. He rolls onto his side to get a better view, propping his head up on his hand. "I'm sorry," he says, stroking his other hand over her flat stomach. "I interrupted your story. Please, do go on."
Smiling, she threads her fingers through his. "There's not much else to tell," she says with a one-shouldered shrug. "We had sex on my couch. I took her back to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ before anyone noticed she was gone. And anyway, my story was longer than yours."
"True," he admits. "But really, nothing else?"
She chuckles. "Okay, let me dredge my memory for another juicy tidbit," she says, scrunching up her brow in mock-concentration. "She had a tattoo that was very nice to lick."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mm-hm. On the front of her hip," she says, sliding their entwined hands down to the spot on her own body. "A pinup girl like what's her name... Bettie Page."
Clint pushes himself upright. "...With two blue swallows on either side of Bettie?" he asks.
Natasha nods, the beginning of a surprised smile curving the corner of her lips. "With cherries hanging from their beaks."
Clint's eyebrows crawl up nearly to his hairline. "...D-Darcy?" he stammers.
"That would be the one," Natasha says, bringing a hand up to cover her smile.
They stare at each other for a moment, both running through the other’s story again in their minds, replacing Anonymous Brunette Girl with Darcy Lewis. Clint's mouth opens and closes soundlessly a couple of times, and then he moans, which makes Natasha laugh.
"How... how in the hell did you meet her?" he finally asks, flopping back down beside her.
"She was at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ for debriefing along with Drs. Foster and Selvig."
"And you just... took her out to a bar and then seduced her?"
She raises an impish eyebrow at him. "And you just got her drunk and fucked her in the back room of a bar in New Mexico?" she retorts.
"Hey, she got me drunk. She bought the tequila."
She ignores his interruption. "When you were supposed to be, I don't know, watching out for giant Norse robots and wayward gods?" she finishes, and he gives her a sheepish grin. "She was bored in there, and you know what the guest quarters look like. I thought I'd let her get some fresh air."
"And some fresh tail?"
She pinches him for that, and he yelps, squirming away from her fingers. "Y'know, it's too bad we didn't meet her at the same time," he muses, looking up at the ceiling. "That could've been fun."
"She's going to be in New York next week for some conference," Natasha says, crawling over and plastering her body against his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
"How do you know that?" he asks. "Does Fury have you tracking her or something?"
"No, we text each other."
Clint takes a second to process that idea, and it makes him snicker, which makes Natasha poke him in the ribs. "Sorry, Tash," he says. "I just... I can't imagine you tapping away at your phone, exchanging smart-assed text messages with Darcy."
They're quiet for a long moment, enjoying the feel of each other's bodies. "So..." Clint murmurs, playing with her hair. "She'll be in New York, you say."
Natasha pushes herself up on one elbow, a positively devilish grin on her gorgeous lips. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Barton?" she purrs.