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I let out a soft sighs when I saw the form of the archer in my bed. My archer. No one has seen him since the mission debriefing and I was worry he was trying to hide for medical again. No one hate more hospital that Clint Barton. Lucky he wasn’t that often hurt bad enough to need to be there.
I take the first aid kit from the dresser and walk to the bed to see the damages. He didn’t stir as I walk to his side. It worries me and touches me at the same time. He was clearly too tired to wake up and at the same time I know he trust me enough to show this vulnerable side of him.
I let my eyes scan his body at the silver light of the city above us. He have take his uniformed off and was simply wearing a boxer brief. To my relief I can’t find any new wound. Only some bruises on his back. Nothing to let me think he can have internal bleeding. I put the kit on the ground and sit down beside him resting my back again the headboard. I’m exhausted too but still too high on adrenaline too rest. So I do one of the activities that calm me down: watches Clint sleep.
I put my hand on his shoulder and smiles when he presses against my legs. His trust is as beautiful as him.
I let my finger play on one of the scar in his shoulder. I know every one of them like a map and most of the story about them.
When we begin to be intimate he was really shy about the many he have. He never says it out loud or anything, but I have learned to read him. He think he make him unattractive. I was always making sure ever to show that I like each one of them.
He see those scars a proof of his weakness and failure. For me they are the testimony of how strong he was. Not only he has survived all these trials the life have thrown at him, but he has passed them.
I let my finger move on his tone chest to the bullet wound on his side and smile at the soft moans he made. When I look back at his face, his blue stormy eyes were open and fix on me.
“You have taken your sweet time.” He mutters as he presses more against my hand.
There was something in those eyes. I push him on his back and move to straddle his hips and capture his lips. My tongue trails the faint scars that cover his right corner of his lips, courtesy of his drunken father. He shivers a little when I finally let go the scar tissues still sensitive after all those years. It was now pink and stands out again his skin. Only making him event sexier.
He blinks a moment and look at me a bit confuse. I only smiles and lean in to lick the one on his shoulder – arrow shot by his mentor Trickshot and the one on his side –bullet wound form his brother Barney. My fingers map the one on his legs from when The Swordsman has let him fall to his dead from the high wire. All the betrayals that mark his body. Trying of erasing the ghost pain with love.
The moans that escape him tell me I’m doing a good job.
Because if I’m proud of the man Clint have become, the rightful man he is when he have all the opportunity to become as evil as the men that he have see have fathers figures, the thing that make me event more proud is that he trust me with the most scared part of him.
His heart.
And even if he says he has gave it to me long ago. I always promise to make myself worth of it every single second.
And when he whispers my name like a prayer in the middle of the night. I know I am one step closer to my goal.