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Clint hissed and let out a groan of relief as Natasha dug her thumb deeper into his shoulder. While Clint could and did override his body's need to move, it didn't mean he didn't pay later. Nat always knew when a mission left him wrecked. It used to be vodka and stories made all the funnier by her refusal to smile. Recently, her care had become more intimate.
Like this, for example.
Most men naked in a bathtub with Natasha hovering over them would be either gleeful (if they were stupid) or terrified (if they were smart). Clint knew better on both counts. They didn't talk about it but Clint knew Nat never had sex outside missions. He'd seen the most gorgeous omegas rich with heat invite her to share with them, watched as bold-eyed betas approached in clubs or coffee shops, witnessed a handful of time when other alphas came onto her. Natasha had been chemically altered in the Red Room, her tells different enough that few others picked up on her signs- only Phil, as far as Clint knew.
Clint knew what her fear smelled like.
He would never betray her by offering, was only glad that she trusted him enough to exercise some of her instinct to protect and care for him. Even if her massages did hurt like a bitch.
"Ouch," he grunted. "Jesus, Tash, I know you can kill a man with your hands. No need to warm up on me."
She flinched behind him, though none of it communicated itself to her hands. Clint just has exceptional periphery vision, thank you very fucking much. Maybe not the best tack to take, so he let out another clearly exaggerated whine.
She pinched him. "Shut up you big baby. You can take it." He smirked to himself. "I don't need to hear about whatever kinky antics you get up to in your free time, either."
Clint chuckled. "Yes, alpha, of course alpha, whatever you say alpha."
Natasha's fingers stilled briefly in her work. "How is it that you can say almost the exact same thing to Coulson and have it sound so much more filthy?"
Clint covered a flash of pity for the ways the Red Room had screwed her up with his brand of typical brashness. "Maybe because Phil's an-" He hissed as something in his shoulder popped and the muscles all along his back went loose. "-omega, so it really is a kinky sex thing?"
Natasha snorted and patted his shoulder, a silent signal that they were done. Clint obediently sank further down into the scalding water. Before she could get too far, he turned and snagged her wrist gently.
"Thank you, alpha." Clint said it simply, sincerely, because Natasha damn well deserved that from him.
As always, her face flickered with uncertainty for just a second. This time, instead of fleeing, she twisted her hand free of his and brushed two fingers lightly over his pulse point. "You're welcome, Clint."