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*****
She is powerful.
He wants to feel helpless.
*****
Most of the time, Natasha understands what makes men tick. She can get into their heads, read their fears and their desires, and she uses what she finds there against them, uses it to get what she wants and needs out of the situation.
But Clint... she doesn't understand him.
She knows him, yes. She knows what he's told her, knows most of his life, but she doesn't really understand him the way she understands a mark. She doesn't know what he needs, or rather, she does but doesn't understand why he needs it.
*****
They were sparring. It wasn't particularly useful for actual training purposes--they knew each other's bodies and moves too well to truly surprise each other--but fighting somehow brought them into closer harmony. It was exhilarating to move to sweep his legs out from under him only to find that he'd leapt clear and was coming at her from behind.
She dove into a somersault, rolling and twisting into a crouch, watching him as he circled slowly to her right.
It was a diversion; she could see the slight flick of his eyes to the left and knew he would feint to the right but would come at her from the left. She played into it, but he could read her, too, in the tension in her thighs, the way she touched the fingers of her right hand to the mat for balance.
He feinted right, slipped to the left, and when she reacted to his movement, he switched back to the right in the space of half a second, but she ducked underneath his lunge, had somehow anticipated his fake-out.
Planting her hands on the mat, she swung her legs up as he spun to face her, springing upward and wrapping her calves around his neck. He went down with a grunt, both from the force of his fall and from Natasha's weight landing on his body. Before he could react, she was up, planting her knees on his arms and settling her weight onto his hips, using her hands to pin his legs to the floor.
He was strong enough that he could probably flip her off, but he didn't move, just panted harshly. His body strained underneath her, a glint of something dark and desperate and familiar, something she'd seen in some marks' eyes as she hurt them.
She shifted her weight and realized with a thrill that he was getting hard underneath her, his cock filling out and pressing up against her ass.
Arching her back, she pushed down onto him, rocking her hips against his erection. That desperate glint flared into something hotter, something dangerous, something that made her heart beat faster, made blood surge low in her body.
It wasn't just her proximity that turned him on; she could tell that from the way he went completely still, the catch of breath in his chest, the hint of excited apprehension in his face, the way his hands trembled against her calves.
"You like this, don't you?" she said, keeping her voice low.
His teeth dug into his bottom lip, a flash of white, and he was at war with himself. She knew men well enough to know when a man didn't want to admit something that he wanted.
"Tell me," she said. "Do you like this? Do you like it when I pin you down?"
He sucked in a shuddering breath, his hands flexing. "Yes," he breathed.
There was a challenge in his eyes, like he was daring her to judge him for it, but she didn't, couldn't. Shifting her legs so that his arms were free, she leaned forward, pressing her body against his.
Kissing him for the first time was both familiar and unfamiliar; she knew his body, knew the curve of his lips, but touching hers to his was thrilling in its newness. She brushed a light kiss first, giving him the opportunity to stop her, to push her away and they would go back to business as usual. But his hands snaked up her thighs, his head tilting underneath hers, lips parting, an open invitation.
She caught his wrists and pinned them to the mat beside his head, taking his mouth in a harsh kiss. The slow burn of desire in the pit of her belly suddenly flared, fed by her own desperation for him, something she hadn't even realized had been lurking in her mind.
A low moan rumbled in his chest, and his hips rocked against hers in a move that felt almost unconscious, as if he had no control over his body.
*****
He needs to let go of his power.
He's always so still, so controlled as a sniper, wound so tight, and he needs someone to take away that control.
He thinks that someone is Natasha.
He can trust her, he does trust her with more than just his life. He trusts her with his secrets, with his past, with all his fears but this one.
He thinks he could trust her with it, too.
*****
"Come to my quarters," she purred against his ear, then climbed off of him to go shower.
An hour later, he was standing in the middle of her living room, still as ever, but she could see the tension simmering just beneath his skin.
She sat on her couch, her posture relaxed, non-threatening. "Do you want this?" she asked as if she were asking if he wanted sugar in his coffee. "We need to be clear. I need you to tell me what you want from me and what you don't want."
Her matter-of-factness seemed to startle him a little. "I want--" he began, but he pressed his lips together, looking away from her as if he couldn't bring himself to say the words.
"Clint," she said softly. "Do you trust me?"
That made him look back, his brow furrowed like he didn't understand why she would need to ask that. "Of course I do," he said.
She rose from the sofa and came to stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes. "Should I tell you what I want?" she asked. "Will that make you feel comfortable?"
There was uncertainty in his eyes but he nodded, and his gaze lingered on her lips in a way that made her desire flare back to life.
"I want you," she said, catching his gaze again. "I want you very, very much. I want everything that you're willing to give me. I want to pin you down and taste you. I want to tie your hands behind your back and make you kneel at my feet. I want to make you come and know that you're coming because of me."
Air left his lungs in a rush, his pupils dilating, his body suddenly radiating heat. "Jesus," he murmured, hands flexing again as if he was itching to touch her.
"Will you tell me what you want?" she asked. "Because nothing will happen unless you want it, and I need to know what you need me to do."
He drew in a shaky breath, his eyes dropping to her lips again for a second before meeting her eyes. "I want..." he whispered, closing his eyes for a second. "I want you. I want you to... control me. I need to let go."
She thought she understood his need; in the back of her mind, she felt that need to lose control, too, but she had always pushed it back deep down inside. What they did for a living required them to be constantly in the moment, constantly aware of and in control of the situation. Clint... his control was deadly and beautiful. She wanted to see if making him lose control would be just as breathtaking.
And she would be lying to herself if she thought she didn't want to strip that control away from him, watch him tremble underneath her. That had always been something separate from her own desire, but then she had always used that particular talent on men--and some women--that she didn't care about.
She cared about Clint, perhaps more than she had even realized herself. Taking control from him wouldn't be about exploitation; it would be a privilege, a way of giving him what he needed while taking what she wanted, a way of stripping away all of their pretenses, all of their masks and disguises and aliases.
Stepping close to him, she slid her hands into his messy thatch of hair, pulling his lips down to hers. His kiss was quietly desperate, like he was pleading with his lips, begging her to give him what he needed.
"If I do something you don't like," she said softly, brushing her lips against his cheek, "Say 'red,' and everything stops. I'll ask you if you want it before I do anything, and I want you to be honest with me. This is for you. Don't feel like you have to say yes just to please me. Is that okay with you?"
His earlier uncertainty was starting to fade away, as if her words had already lifted some of the burden of control from his shoulders, and one corner of his mouth turned up as he looked down at her. "Yes," he answered.
She smiled and brushed another kiss against his lips. "Take off your clothes," she said. "Fold them and leave them on the couch. Then come into my bedroom and kneel on the floor, facing the bed. Close your eyes when you’re on your knees."
Without waiting for his reaction, she turned and went into the bedroom, feeling herself slipping into her role as if she were slipping into old, familiar clothes. Taking control was almost as natural to her as breathing, but she knew she would have to be careful, would have to rein herself in. It was in her nature to dominate, but she rarely used that power like this, to please rather than to harm or manipulate.
It surprised her how much she wanted to please him.
She didn't change clothes, just stayed in the jeans and tank top she had put on after her shower. There wasn't any need for artifice with Clint, not this time. He didn't need a show; he just needed her, and that sent shivery heat racing over her skin.
In the back of her closet was a chest, and she crouched in front of it, opening the lid and inspecting her collection of restraints and toys more as a way to give him time to undress and just start to get uncomfortable kneeling on her floor than to actually check the chest's contents.
Most of the play she had done in the past had been with women (as opposed to using her talents in a more... professional capacity, which had been mostly with men), but she had a pair of leather cuffs that were big enough to fit around his wrists. Many of her toys would probably be too intense for him; she hadn't asked if he had done this before, but she assumed he hadn't by his reluctance to tell her that he wanted it. She would rein herself in, read his cues, push him just to the edge this time.
If there was a next time, she could think about pushing him over that edge.
She had heard his soft footsteps outside of the closet a few minutes earlier, and she waited a minute longer before picking up her chest and stepping back into the bedroom.
As she had instructed, he was kneeling on the rug, sitting back on his heels with his hands on his thighs, and his naked body was beautiful. She usually tried to separate sexuality from domination; seducing a mark didn't appeal to her except as a means to an end. When she played dominatrix, there was some element of desire for the person under her heel, but it was purely physical.
Looking at Clint, nude and kneeling, his eyes clenched shut, his body tense and his cock half-hard against his thigh, she suddenly realized just how closely linked desire and domination could be. She wanted to make him come apart, to make him beg for her, but she wanted it because it was him, not just because she had a job to do or an itch that needed scratching.
She forced herself to slow her breathing, to push her thoughts away from that, because it was dredging up emotions she wasn't sure how to deal with.
"Keep your eyes closed," she said, and his head jerked toward her.
He obeyed, though, keeping his eyes tightly shut, but it was obvious that hearing her footsteps was unnerving to him. She could easily walk silently, but she liked watching the tension shiver over his body. Smiling to herself, she put the chest on the floor behind him and stepped close to his back, ghosting her fingers over the back of his neck.
That sent a shudder racing down his spine, and he made a faint noise that was almost a whimper. Bending to put her mouth close to his ear, she let him feel her breath for a moment before speaking. "I love how you look," she breathed, and he shivered in response. "Your body is beautiful."
It wasn't an empty compliment, either. She had seen him shirtless and knew he had a compact, muscular body, but seeing it as a whole was glorious. She wanted to press her skin against his and feel the strength of his thighs underneath her hips; the desire was so strong that she had to force herself not to touch him.
"Open your eyes," she whispered, stepping in front of him.
*****
She walks around him, her eyes raking over his body, and he imagines he can feel her gaze like the erotic drag of fingernails on his skin.
Tension tightens his muscles until he feels wound tight as a spring.
He feels vulnerable, exposed, open in a way that's almost frightening, but the heat in her eyes, the way she licks her lips as she circles him like a tiger, sends blood surging to his groin.
He takes a deep breath.
*****
She took the cuffs out of the chest and knelt behind him, exhaling a hot breath against the back of his neck. He was so beautiful, and it was taking all of her considerable self control to keep from pressing her mouth against the small of his back and tasting the skin there.
He shivered again, making a soft sound when she slid a hand down his arm to capture his wrist. "I'm going to bind your hands," she said softly, and that soft sound turned into a moan.
The heavy cuff slipped around one wrist and then the other, and she clipped the cuffs together, pinning his hands behind his back. For a second, he strained against his bonds, the strong muscles in his arms and back standing out in sharp relief, but then he relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his head tipping forward, as if being bound sapped away some of the tension she had seen in him.
She moved in front of him again, leaning against the edge of the bed. He looked up at her, his gaze wary, but his cock was hard, curving upward toward his flat belly. Letting a lazy smile cross her lips, she rested her hands on her hips. "Now, what should I do with you?" she said, watching him closely.
His expression grew hungry, and she smirked. "Oh, now you're getting arrogant," she said. "We can't have that."
Catching the hem of her tank top, she tugged it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor at her feet. "Keep your eyes on my face, pet," she said, unbuttoning her jeans.
He was tense again, his eyes locked on her face as intensely as when he was lining up a shot with his bow, and she wanted to break him, make him beg. She didn't look away from him, held his gaze as she skimmed her jeans down her hips, stepping out of them and kicking them away.
His eyes darted downward, sweeping over her black bra and panties for just a second before rising back to her face, and she let her smirk grow dangerous. "Hm," she said, pitching her voice low. "You just disobeyed me, pet. I don't think I like that."
She watched his face flush, and she could read the warring expressions there as easily as reading a book. He still clung to control, couldn't bear to let the last scraps of it go no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted to fight her, but this wasn't a sparring mat and they weren't equals here.
It was time to remind him of that.
"Face the bed," she ordered, and went to get a collar from her toy box.
It was leather, just like the cuffs, and his body stiffened when she slid it around his neck from behind. "If you aren't going to be a good boy and obey me, I'm going to have to take steps to make sure you do," she purred in his ear.
His eyes stayed on her face when she walked back in front of him, and she could see a sliver of panic in his expression at being collared. A little part of her thrilled at having that effect on him, a part that she tried to keep tamped down. That wasn't who she was anymore, at least not with the people who mattered. She forced herself to take a deep breath and reach out to stroke his hair.
"You're going to be good for me, aren't you, Clint?" she said softly. "Because you know I'm going to take care of you."
His eyes slipped shut for a second, his head moving into her hand like a cat being petted, and he nodded. "Good boy," she murmured, letting her hand trail down his face to buckle the collar at the base of his neck. "Are you going to do what you're told?"
"Yes," he whispered, his eyes still closed and his breathing uneven.
"Then keep your eyes closed," she said.
Most of the toys in her collection were meant to inflict pain, and while the idea of paddling his ass until he begged for mercy certainly appealed to her, she didn't think he was quite ready for that level of submission yet. "Do you want me to hurt you, pet?" she asked; if he wanted pain, she would give it to him, but she needed to hear it from his mouth, to be absolutely certain.
His shoulders tensed. "I... I don't know," he stammered.
It was difficult to read that answer, but she knew it was better to tread lightly, to err on the side of caution, than to drive him away by moving too quickly. At the bottom of the chest was a feather tickler; it wasn't something she used often--too vanilla--but she sensed that she could use it as a gateway drug, get him used to being at her mercy.
She drew the feathered tip across his shoulder blades, biting back a smile at the way he gasped and jerked. "Eyes closed," she reminded him, circling back to his front and trailing the tickler over his shoulder and across his chest. "Stay still."
His breath was shivery and quick, and he struggled to keep from squirming, clenching his eyes shut. The feather danced across his skin, and she could see goosebumps rising in its path. She trailed it down his stomach, tracing the line of hair leading down from his navel, and his cock, which had slackened a bit, suddenly twitched and grew stiff again.
She brushed the feather over the hard, taut flesh, and he threw his head back on a gasp, his whole body shuddering.
Maybe, she thought, she had underestimated this little toy.
She teased him, swirling the feather across his skin, then taking away the touch for long seconds before brushing it across a completely different spot. Dragging it slowly down his spine produced her second favorite reaction, after that first hard shudder; every muscle in his strong back tensed, emphasizing all of that tamed strength, and she had to bite her lip to contain the urge to sink her teeth into the corded muscle of his shoulder.
When she circled back around him, trailing the feather across his cheek and onto his lips, he suddenly sneezed. It startled a laugh out of her before she could catch it, and his face split in a quick grin, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"I think that's enough of that," she said, tossing the teaser to the side. "Open your eyes."
He looked up at her, his smile softening a little, and she granted him a little smile of her own. "Did you like that, pet?" she asked.
"Yes," he breathed.
"You did well," she said. "How should I reward you, hm? What would you like?"
Surprise washed across his expression along with a little wariness, as if he wasn't sure why she would grant him a wish. "I... I'd like to see you," he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Naked."
When he looked back up at her, she raised an eyebrow at him, held it there long enough that he started to squirm a little, and she bit back a smile at the power she had over him here, in this situation. "Watch me," she said.
Her bra clasped in the front, and she drew her hand across the swell of her cleavage, fingers resting on the fastener as she slowly swayed closer to him. Stopping when her toes brushed against his knees, she brought her other hand up and undid the catch, letting the sides of her bra slowly spread apart, baring her breasts inch by inch.
Kneeling at her feet like this, he looked like a supplicant, the expression on his face close to ecstasy as he worshipped her. The bra slipped down her arms, and his breath left his lungs in a rush at the sight of her breasts. She cupped her breasts, smoothing her hands over her soft flesh, fingers teasing her nipples until they were stiff, and he moaned softly.
"Is this enough?" she asked with a smirk.
He shook his head almost desperately, leaning forward until his face was pressed against her groin, and it was her turn to catch her breath. She shouldn't let him do that, shouldn't let him touch her without permission, but his breath was hot against her, soaking through the thin cotton of her panties, and she wanted to feel the heat of his mouth, his tongue, on her instead.
Steeling herself, she slid her fingers into his hair and gripped hard, tugging his head away. He looked a little surprised, but his eyes were heavy-lidded, and god, it was so tempting to just take him. "Naughty," she purred. "I didn't say you could touch me. I want you to take my panties off with your teeth."
He looked intoxicated, his eyes darkening and his mouth falling slack on a sigh. Slipping her thumb under the thin waistband of her underwear, she held the fabric away from her body.
Spreading his knees a little wider, he slowly tugged her panties down, pulling them over the curve of her hips, and she could feel his breath stutter when they dipped low enough to expose her mound. He leaned forward a little more, ostensibly so he could pull them down, but his nose brushed against her, nudging at her clit. Pausing there, he breathed deeply, and wetness surged between her legs, both from the touch and from knowing that he was breathing her in.
"Keep going," she said, mentally chastising herself at how breathless her voice sounded.
He made it to mid-thigh before he stopped again, this time because he couldn't bend forward any more without falling. "Do you need help?" she asked.
Lifting his face, he nodded up at her with her panties caught between his teeth, and it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Licking her lips, she tugged the fabric loose from his teeth and pushed her panties down her thighs, wiggling them down her calves until she could step out of them.
He swayed toward her again, and she grabbed his hair, tipping his head back so he was forced to look up at her. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she said, her voice a dangerous purr.
"I want to taste you," he whispered, the heat in his eyes so intense that she could nearly feel it on her skin.
As much as she wanted his mouth between her legs, she needed to keep the upper hand. "Mm, I don't think so," she said, smirking at how his jaw tightened in frustration. "Seeing me naked was your reward. You'll have to earn the right to taste my cunt."
A desperate sound escaped him, and she watched his shoulders tense as he pulled at the cuffs. "Please tell me what to do," he panted.
She hooked her finger in the ring on the front of his collar and pulled, tugging him to his feet. "Don't come," she said, stepping just close enough that her breasts brushed against his skin.
When her hand closed around his cock, he let out a sharp moan, his eyes slamming shut. "No, keep your eyes open," she chastised, giving him a firm squeeze. "I want you to watch me. You're not allowed to come until I give you permission."
He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, looking down at her. She could see his throat bob as he swallowed hard, and she licked her lips just to fuck with him.
He was thick and rock hard and incredibly hot against her palm, and when she stroked him from base to tip, he shuddered, his eyes nearly closing again. He managed to contain the urge and kept them open, but just barely; he stared down at her through slitted lids, his blue eyes dark and glittering.
"You want to taste me," she murmured, brushing her nose against the side of his neck and breathing in the hot scent of his skin. "Have you thought about it before? What I taste like?"
"Yes," he hissed, his body arching against her as she started a steady rhythm.
"Have you thought about it a lot? Do you think about fucking me with your tongue while you're jerking off?"
The noise he made was beautiful, a desperate whimper, and on the next upstroke, her hand was slicked with precome. "Answer me," she said.
"Yes," he gasped, his shoulders showing strain as he pulled at the cuffs behind his back.
"Mmm, does it make you come when you think about eating my pussy?" she asked, reveling in the way his body shivered as she stroked him. "Or do you move on? Do you think about fucking me? Bending me over and working this gorgeous cock into me? Or do you think about me pinning you down and riding you?"
A low moan rumbled from his chest at her last question, and she smiled a wicked little smile. "Oh yes, that's it, isn't it, pet?" she purred. "That gets you off, thinking about me sinking down on your cock, bucking on you, getting off using your body. Tell me what makes you come."
His head tipped back a little, the corded muscles in his neck standing out with the strain of controlling himself. "Thinking... thinking about making you come..." he said, his voice rough.
That made her breathless, sent another surge of heat through her body. To mask her reaction, she slipped behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist so she could jerk him off with both hands. The spot between his shoulder blades was just too tempting, and she had to press her mouth against it to taste his skin.
He tasted good, the salt of his sweat and the faintly musky taste of his skin mingling on her tongue and in her nose, and she couldn't remember ever being this turned on, ever wanting someone this badly. She pumped his cock and rocked her hips against his firm ass, his bound bands trapped between his back and her stomach.
He pushed back against her, thrusting between her hands and her hips, and she ran her tongue up his spine, carefully setting her teeth into the back of his neck. "Oh fuck," he moaned.
His whole body tensed in her arms, and she decided it was time to take pity on him. He'd already lasted longer than she expected, and anyway, she was intrigued by his reaction to the way she had thrust her hips against his ass. It was more than just being turned on by the feel of her body or her hand; he pushed back into her like he wanted more than just her hips against him, and that gave her an idea.
When she released his cock, he sagged a little against her, panting harshly. "Oh, you're a good boy," she said, pressing a kiss against the back of his shoulder. "Do you want your reward?"
"Yes," he gasped. "Yes, please..."
Taking his arms, she steered him to sit on the floor in the middle of the rug. He looked up at her, anticipation written all over his face, and she was tempted to untie his hands just so she could feel them on her hips, feel him pull her against his mouth. "Put your hands in your lap when I unbind them," she said, kneeling and unbuckling the cuffs.
He did as he was told, moving his hands as they came free of the bonds, and she moved in front of him, cuffing his wrists back together. "Don't want you to get uncomfortable on your back," she told him with a half-smile. "See? I take care of my pet."
His lips were parted, his eyes hooded and dark, and she desperately wanted to kiss him; the urge was so strong that she had to bite her lip to control it. Instead, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and lowered him to the floor, pushing his arms up above his head. His body was warm underneath hers, so warm that she could feel the heat radiating across the inches that separated their skin.
“I want you to please me,” she breathed against his mouth, letting her tongue dart out to glance over his lips, and he nodded desperately.
“Yes,” he whispered, licking his lips as if it were the closest he thought he could come to kissing her. “Yes, please...”
Rising onto her knees, she straddled his head, but before she could get her balance and lower herself down, he was straining up to put his mouth on her. The touch of his tongue against her clit wrenched a gasp out of her, and she grasped at the edge of the bed to keep herself upright.
He licked her like he’d been dreaming of it for years, like he’d been plotting ways to make her come undone, like he had never tasted anything better than her pussy.
She hadn’t intended to let it go on for long; she just wanted to tease him, to make him want her even more than he already did, but he was so good, alternating between lapping at her clit and thrusting his tongue as deep as he could get it inside of her. Before she knew it, she was grinding against his mouth, gripping the bedcovers with one hand and his hair with the other, moans she was helpless to stifle falling from her lips.
*****
She tastes like sin and beauty, like heaven and hell wrapped up in one body, and he doesn’t want to stop tasting her. He wants to fuck her with his tongue forever, until he suffocates under the weight of his restrained pleasure.
He wants to come. He needs to come, but she won’t allow it, and this is exactly what he wants right now.
He can feel his sense of self cracking, splintering.
He wants her to remake him.
*****
“Stop!” she gasped, tugging his hair hard.
His head fell back to the floor with a muffled thump, and he looked up at her hungrily. Too much control--she had given him too much control, and the edge of smugness in his eyes made her burn hot with the need to overpower him, to show him who was truly in charge here.
She got to her feet, doing her best to hide the unsteadiness in her legs. “Stay,” she said sharply, and she bent over her toy chest again.
The collar around his neck had a matching leash, and she knelt beside him, clipping it to the collar’s ring. His eyes followed the sway of her breasts as she moved, and that sent a flash of angry lust through her.
She slapped him hard across the face, and he sucked in a startled breath, his eyes wide and shocked. “Did I say you could look at my tits?” she said, keeping her voice low and dangerous. “Keep your fucking eyes on the ceiling until I say you can look at me.”
His gaze lingered on her face, and she could tell that he was pissed off and turned on and had no idea which emotion he should latch onto. He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes for a second longer, and then she watched him let go of his anger, his need to take control, as he obeyed her.
“Good boy,” she murmured, taking hold of the leash.
She pulled him upright and helped him to his feet, and he dropped his gaze to the floor without being told. His tongue darted out to lick her taste off of his lips, and she stepped in close in front of him, stroking her fingers over the reddening mark on his cheek. “Do you like how I taste, pet?” she asked softly.
He nodded, and she tipped his chin up, leaning in to lick his bottom lip. She could feel his body vibrating with the effort of holding still, of not reacting to her closeness, to her mouth against his. “Get on your elbows and knees on the bed,” she said, and he quickly obeyed.
“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” she said, sitting on the bed beside his hip. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
She ran her hand up the sinuous line of his back, feeling his muscles work under her touch. “That’s what I want to hear, pet,” she purred, bending down to follow her touch with her lips.
A soft moan rumbled through him, and she smiled against the soft skin at the small of his back, decided she needed to spend more time with her mouth right there. She wanted to take him apart bit by bit, to feel those strong muscles tense and slacken under her hands.
“Tell me,” she said, brushing her nose up his spine, “Have you ever been fucked in the ass, Clint?”
He went still, like prey that’s just scented a predator, and she smiled again. “Tell me,” she repeated, putting a tiny hint of threat in her tone.
“No... yes.”
“Which one is it, pet?”
His head dropped a bit and she moved in front of him, taking hold of his chin and making him look at her. “Tell me,” she said again.
“I’ve never... had anyone else fuck me,” he answered, his cheeks coloring slightly. “But I’ve... used...”
The smile that crept across her lips was wicked and almost involuntary. “You’ve used toys?” she finished for him.
His blush grew a little more pronounced. “Yes,” he whispered.
She imagined what he must look like, on his back with his legs spread, one hand working his rigid cock and the other pushing a toy into his ass, and she let out a sigh of arousal.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said. “Now tell me. Do you want me to fuck you?”
He met her eyes then, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I--” he began, but his breath stuttered.
Leaning close, she brushed her nose against his cheek. “I have the perfect cock for fucking you,” she purred.
He made a strangled sound at that, his cheeks flushing in something she suspected wasn’t embarrassment. “Oh,” he breathed.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” she repeated, letting him feel her lips against his skin. “Answer me.”
She listened to his breathing, quick and unsteady, waiting for his permission. If he wanted her to control him, she could think of no better way to take away the power he always wore like a cloak than to fuck him. She wanted him underneath her, at her mercy, wanted to make him beg and plead to be allowed to come. She wanted to hold him down, to take him apart piece by piece, to watch him completely lose control and know it was because of her.
His chest expanded on a deep breath, and he released it on a long sigh. "Yes," he whispered.
"Tell me what you want," she said, pressing her lips against his ear.
"Oh god, I want you to fuck me in the ass," he groaned, jerking when she nipped at his earlobe.
"Mmm, that's my good boy," she murmured, licking away the little pain before slipping off of the bed. "Stay there."
He stared down at the bed while she assembled all of the things she would need, and she could see a faint tremor in his body as he waited. He wanted it, she could tell, but she could also tell that he was afraid, and that brought up a dangerous emotion in her, one that she forced herself to tamp down. She wanted to dominate him, but she also wanted to please him - this was about control and release, not pain and brutality.
Tugging on a latex glove, she picked up a bottle of lube and crawled back onto the bed behind him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against the small of his back. He moaned and arched up like a cat, shivering when she scraped her teeth across his skin. "I'm going to get you ready," she said, stroking her ungloved hand over the curve of his ass. "Remember the safe word if you want me to stop."
He nodded, and she sat back on her heels, popping open the bottle's cap and squirting a generous amount of slippery gel onto her gloved fingers, rubbing them together to warm the lube. She bent her lips to his back again and slipped a slick digit into the cleft of his ass, sliding over his asshole, back and forth until he was shuddering underneath her. "Are you ready?" she asked softly.
"Please," he panted. "Please--"
The word ended on a long groan when she carefully pushed past the tight ring of muscle, and his whole body tensed deliciously. "Oh fuck," he breathed, pushing back against her hand.
She licked at the dimples at the small of his back, pumping her finger in and out, slicking him up and stretching him out until he was gasping for more. His cock, which had softened a bit, filled out and stiffened again, hanging heavily between his legs, and she was surprised to find her mouth watering at the sight. She wanted to swallow him down and suck him until he came, and this startled her a little bit. She had never particularly liked giving head to men thanks to the things she had been trained to do by the Red Room, but perhaps she had just never met the right man until Clint, had never met a man that she trusted enough to put herself in such a subservient position.
That was something to save for later, though, and she forced herself to focus on readying him, on carefully adding a second finger and stretching him out. He relaxed easily for her now, his ass still tight but looser, slick and ready for fucking. "Are you ready, pet?" she asked, bending to lick away a bead of sweat from the base of his spine.
"Yes," he gasped. "Please, please fuck me..."
Gently pulling her fingers free, she got up again and tossed the glove in the trash bin. "Watch me get ready," she commanded, and he turned his head to look at her.
His jaw was slack and his eyes dark, his forehead creased with the effort of holding himself together, and god, she loved seeing him like that, desperate for her. She stepped into her harness, tugging the red satiny shorts up onto her hips with a little shimmy, and he bit his bottom lip, his fists clenching.
The dildo she had chosen was a nice length and a reasonable girth, curved upward and formed like a real cock, made of silicone that was nearly as pale as her own skin. She held it up so he could see at it. “Does this look good to you?” she asked, smirking when his eyes widened.
He watched intently as she slipped it into the harness and rolled a condom onto the silicone cock. “Move forward on the bed,” she said, pouring a handful of lube and slicking up the dildo. “Get up on your knees and hold onto the headboard.”
He scrambled to obey, grasping at the headboard with his bound hands. The position stretched his body into a gorgeous arch, and she crawled onto the bed behind him, smoothing her hands over his back.
The sounds he made as she slowly worked the dildo into him were glorious. She drank in the gasps, the moans, the whimpers as she stretched him out and filled him up. She spread her hands across his back and felt the muscles shift, tensing and relaxing, felt his breath shudder in and out of his lungs, felt his thighs tremble against her legs, and she reveled in the power she had over him. He was putty in her hands, willing to be molded into whatever shape she wanted, and it was intoxicating.
When the dildo was seated inside of him, she paused so he could get used to its thickness, to the idea of being fucked by a powerful woman. Her hands glided over his back, fingers pressing into the tight muscles, nails grazing his skin, and he groaned, his knuckles white from gripping the headboard so tightly.
“Do you like this, pet?” she asked, leaning down to trace circles between his shoulder blades with her tongue.
He didn’t answer right away, was too distracted by sensation, and with a private smile, she reached up and fisted her hand in his hair, pulling his head back sharply. “I asked you a question,” she hissed in his ear, and he shuddered. “Do you like this?”
“Yes!” he gasped.
“You like it when I fuck you in the ass?”
“Oh god, yes...”
Keeping her fingers in his hair, she moved the other hand to his hip and started thrusting into him, pulling him back as she pushed forward.
“Fuck!” he cried out, hands scrabbling at the headboard. “Oh fuck--”
“Does it feel good?” she asked, digging her fingertips into his hip hard enough that it would probably leave a bruise. “Having my cock up your ass?”
“Fuck!” he cried again, gasping for breath. “Fuck... yes. It feels so fucking good...”
He let out a whine when she pulled out suddenly, and she slapped his ass sharply. “No whining, pet,” she purred. “Turn over onto your back.”
His body trembled a little as he did her bidding, his eyes glazed and his jaw slack when he turned over, and she loved having that effect on him. Instead of telling him how she wanted him, she manhandled him, shifting his legs and planting his feet on the mattress on either side of her hips.
The dildo slid back inside of him easily, and he threw his head back, gasping, his bound hands wrapped around one of the headboard’s posts. She moved forward on her knees, lifting his hips until they rested on her upper thighs, his back arched, and taking hold of his leash, she started fucking him in earnest.
She loved this, watching his face as she took him apart thrust by thrust, and he was beautifully responsive, his brow furrowed, his teeth worrying his bottom lip between moans, the solid muscles in his torso sharply defined with pleasured tension. Holding onto his hips, she fucked him hard, and judging by how he jerked and gasped with almost every thrust in, she knew her strap on had to be nudging his prostate.
His cock was so hard it strained away from his body, dripping pre-come onto the hard muscles of his stomach, and she could tell by the way that his balls were tightening up that he was getting close.
“Do not come until I give you permission,” she panted, and his body tensed even more with the effort of restraining himself.
He moaned helplessly, pressing his face against his bicep, his eyes clenched shut, and she smiled again, shifting her grip to the firm curve of his ass. He shuddered helplessly against her, his legs straining to hold his weight, his hands gripping the headboard so tightly that she wondered if he might actually break it.
“Tell me what you want,” she said. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”
He opened his eyes and took a stuttering breath, his biceps flexing. “I want to come,” he groaned, arching into her thrusts.
“Beg me for it. Beg me to let you come.”
“Please, please let me come,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, Tasha, I want to come so bad... please!”
“That’s my good boy,” she purred with a little smile. “Very well. You can come.”
Her hand had barely closed on his cock when he arched up sharply with a shout, his entire body going rigid. She pushed the dildo in deep, and he spasmed, his cock jerking in her grasp, spurting come across his chest and stomach.
“That's right, let go,” she moaned, caught up in the intensity of his orgasm. “Lose control. God, Clint, you're beautiful when you come.”
He shuddered helplessly in her lap as she milked the last few drops of come from him, and then he collapsed into a boneless heap. She carefully eased out of him, shifting out from under his hips, and she left him gasping for breath while she went to take off her harness in the bathroom.
*****
He shatters into a million shining pieces, scattered across the darkness behind his eyelids like stars in the midnight sky.
*****
When she came back a few moments later, he was in the same position, his eyes closed and his face slack with spent pleasure. She bit her bottom lip, suddenly struck with a strange wave of warmth at the sight of him. It wasn’t particularly dominant of her, but she was suddenly possessed by an urge she couldn’t resist.
Climbing onto the bed beside him, she bent her head to his chest and dragged her tongue along a stripe of come, lapping it up. He groaned, and she looked up to see him watching her uncertainly.
Her lips quirking, she bent to kiss him, letting him suck his come off of her tongue, and she cleaned up the rest of his chest that way, swallowing down his taste and sharing it with him. That warmth had built in her chest, and she realized that though this was something she would never have thought of doing with anyone else, ever, it was different with Clint. He was precious to her, and no one else could even come close to that.
She could tell from the way his arms were tensed that he wanted to touch her, and she felt strangely indulgent. “Give me your wrists,” she said, sitting up on her knees.
The buckles parted easily, but he hesitated once his hands were free. That made her smile and stroke the soft skin of his stomach, tickling the line of dark blond hair that trailed down from his navel. “What do you want now, pet?” she asked.
He took a deep breath, his muscles twitching a little under her hand. “Please,” he said softly, his gaze piercing. “Please let me make you come.”
Her breath caught in her throat. That wasn’t part of the bargain; this was for him, his release, and she could easily take care of her own desire later. But fucking him had lit a blazing fire inside of her, one that was intense and unfamiliar, terrifying and intriguing all twisted up in the same emotion.
She lay beside him carefully, and she could feel him watching her every move like a hawk. “Make me come,” she said, rolling to face him.
Curling his warm body against hers, he slipped his hand between her thighs, and she heard his breath catch when his fingers slid through her wetness. “Feel that?” she whispered, her own breath hitching when he rubbed against her clit. “Do you feel how wet you made me?”
“This is for me?” he whispered back, moving closer so their foreheads were touching.
Two fingers pushed inside of her, and she gasped, gripping his forearm as he slid them in and out. “Yes,” she panted, arching when his fingertips brushed against a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. “I loved fucking you--”
His fingers slipped back out to rub at her clit, and her words trailed off into a moan. Fucking him had been amazingly good; the base of the dildo had nudged her clit with each thrust, and while it hadn’t been enough to get her off, it combined with the sight of him losing control at her whim had been more than enough to turn her on.
It wasn’t long at all before she was bucking against his touch, her hands fisted in his hair, captured by his intense gaze and the exquisite pleasure he was creating in her body. “You gonna come for me?” he rumbled.
She didn’t know exactly when she had lost control of the situation, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. This was Clint; she had taken everything out of his hands so he could find release. She could trust him to do the same for her.
And she could suddenly understand why he needed to let go of all his tight control, why he needed to be taken apart. Letting him take control was a relief, like taking a deep breath of sweet air after being trapped underwater. She felt the strange paradox of her mind relaxing while her body coiled in anticipation, and she understood him.
He plunged two fingers back into her cunt and rubbed tight circles on her clit with his thumb, and she gave in to him, letting him work her body, control her pleasure, until she was trembling on the edge of that dark chasm, grasping at him and pleading for release.
His fingers curled to hit that sensitive spot again, and Natasha cried out, ecstasy roaring through her body like a whirlwind. He pressed his lips against hers and she clung to him, letting him wring every last shiver from her, kissing him back with more passion than she knew she had in her.
*****
They put each other back together.
*****
He lay in her embrace for a long time, his arm curled around her waist and his head on her shoulder, and she whispered soothing nonsense, stroking his back.
This was a part of domination that she had never been comfortable with, had never really been willing to do when she was topping near-strangers and certainly not with marks, but she thought she understood it now. She wanted to care for him, to show him that she would take good care of him if he ever needed this again, that she cared for him more than she was able to say.
Eventually he pushed himself up on one elbow, bringing the other hand up to curve around her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, a little smile curving his lips.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, letting him tuck her against his body, feeling that warmth spread through her again. “Thank you,” she whispered in reply.