Chapter Text
“Nat.”
He caught her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, gaze playful as it trailed along the flimsy fabric of her sundress. She’d bought it on a whim during their mission in Havana, solely out of spite for Barton and his wandering eyes, the thing so transparent it was merely a cover up. Her attempt at teasing had only lasted four hours though, as Clint had been rather ferocious in ridding her of it, rendering her totally incapable of complaining that night.
“Almost done,” her fingers curled around her hair a few times more, weaving the strands into a luscious braid with trained ease, face scrunched up in concentration.
“Don’t rush it,” she felt him closing in on her, his warmth impossible when he pressed his lips against her neck, hand roaming gallantly over her hip “I’m just enjoying you.”
She hummed in response, leaning back into his embrace and allowing all the thoughts to simmer down.
“I’m glad we did this.”
“You know I keep my promises.”
“I’d love to see you explain to Coulson when we get back.”
He snagged the braid from her, neatly tying it off and sneaking another kiss to the crown of her head.
“Oh, come on, Tasha. The world won’t end in three days.”
“You’d be surprised,” she stepped back, taking one last look at herself and sparing Clint a tiny smirk. His ogling was absolutely charming to her and she would’ve folded immediately if it wasn’t so hot in there already. “Come on, darling, let’s hit the beach.”
☀
She let him hold her hand, lacing up their fingers entirely on her own volition as she dragged him over the scorching sand.
It had started as a joke, back in Vegas when they’d had to get married on the fly. Natasha wasn’t one for sickeningly sweet displays of affection, in fact they’d bonded over mocking them countless times. However, the benefits of being all lovey-dovey sure were enticing. And as long as it was done in an ironic fashion, there was no tension whatsoever.
Yet, with every mission, the kisses were becoming more intense, Clint’s holds a little more possessive. Looking for one another in a crowd had grown into a routine, instinctive, driven. Even the sex had evolved to be more than just a physicality, Natasha’s moans that little bit deeper, perhaps even more sincere.
She’d named herself his, time and time between his thrusts, among the rustling of the bedsheets, whispering, then crying it out loud. His to please, his to delight in. His to love.
☀
And in return, she held his hand. She kissed his face and traced the arch of his eyebrow, breathed in his scent with such insatiable hunger, it hurt when he was not around. His lap was her haven, his chest her safe space, their time alone her only solace. He worshipped her and she grew addicted, willing, no, begging to reciprocate, her infatuation having long become just love. Pure and unadulterated, for everyone to see.
“This is good, yeah?”
She nodded, watching as he opened up the parasol, dragging her chaise-lounge under the shade before his shirt came off in one swift, very much practiced, motion. Natasha rolled her eyes, not without biting the inside of her cheek though, pulling their towels out and neatly setting them down.
“Wanna go in?”
“Not yet,” Natasha sat, propping her sunglasses over her head “Come here.”
Her hands brushed over his face, gingerly rubbing some sunscreen in. She could feel him relax under her touch, the muscles around his jaw visibly loosening when he breathed out, lips curving into a smile.
“You’re good to go,” she dragged her palms over his chest to rid them of the excess lotion.
“Already?”
“I can do the rest of you, if you want.” She paused “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“You know what, I take it back.”
“What did I do?”
She leaned closer, mere inches from his lips.
“You have your sex face on. Knock it off.”
He laughed then, stroking her calf as she nudged him off her chaise.
“Off you go, Hawkeye.”
Natasha watched him, well, his ass mostly, walk away, finally losing her dress and stretching out onto the cushion. The sun caressed her body, light and gentle, in a way she could only compare to Clint’s hands early in the morning, when there was nothing but a bedsheet and the memory of last night draped between them.
Clint put her at ease, his mere presence taming the horrors of her nightmares, his arms pulling her from the abyss when her own brain defected on her. And with each day that she found herself safe in his embrace, his offer seemed ever more tempting. She’d put it off, even the thought itself, of giving up her solitude, perhaps even her pride, to crawl into a man’s lap in order to feel some sort of secure. But, truth was, she did feel it, overwhelmingly so. She’d found herself drowning in guilt every time she’d snuck out at the break of dawn, biting a lip at the sight of him, at the idea she could share that bliss.
And then she’d almost lost him. Fifteen horrible days of not knowing, of his ragged breaths and her hushed begging. That’s when she knew he had her, fully, earnestly, reverently. Unwavering devotion. Love.
She was ready.
For him.
For them.
“Water’s great,” his shadow fell above her, tall and lean and so alluring with his fingers combing through his hair “Scoot over.”
She lazily did so, like a cat adjusting in the shade, gazing at him under the brim of her floppy hat.
“Look what the current dragged,” her lips let out a tiny moan then, when his palms made contact with her skin, gently trailing along the length of her thighs.
“Careful there, miss Romanoff, people might think you’re having fun.”
“Don’t be so smug,” he felt her toes against his back “But thank you, for the refreshment.”
“Anytime. In fact,” Clint pressed his mouth against hers in a delightfully pleasant exchange of salt “Yeah, no, that was it. I’m leaving you alone now.”
Natasha smirked, eyes glinting mischievously as she watched him squeeze the water out of his trunks and settle down, one final wink before he dozed off, the warm summer breeze gliding calmly over his shoulder blades.
☀
Clint woke up in a daze, shielding his eyes as sweat trickled down his side. The sun had moved, licking at his feet, his skin burning just as much as his lungs did. Natasha looked to be asleep next to him, the clasp of her top undone and exposing her entire back to the afternoon rays. He looked over her fondly, suppressing the urge to trace along her spine.
They’d really needed that vacation, both of them. Natasha had been an anxious mess for the past few months, existing as if on autopilot. He’d been afraid to touch her, god forbid he accidentally induced the nightmares that had bled into a vicious daydream. Cracks began appearing on her usual stoic self, manic episodes that even he could not get her out of. One time out of ten she let him hold her, crying apologies into his shirt. Mission after mission he’d pleaded with headquarters, with Coulson, with whoever, for a break. That’s when he began to lose it too, cursing SHIELD out, unable to keep up with the exhaustion. The both of them took turns to be dysfunctional, running exclusively on alcohol and ready-made meals. Until Clint decided they’d had enough.
So, he’d packed up their stuff, turned off their comms and drove them off into the sunset. An impromptu getaway or as he’d personally labelled it, one big middle finger in SHIELD’s face. That night, Natasha slept soundly, seeking him out in her drowsy trance.
I’d do anything for you.
He’d felt that, with each fiber of his being, wrapping her tighter in his grasp.
☀
“You are a life saver.”
“So I’ve heard,” Clint handed her the beer, taking a deep swig of his own “Can you hold for a second?”
He bent over Natasha, promptly clasping her bikini in place before retrieving his drink and sitting, content, across from her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she took a sip, the ice-cold liquid spilling nicely down her throat “Your hair is all tousled. Must’ve been a good sleep.”
“Yeah. You?”
“You know I can’t. Not in public anyways.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is,” Natasha sat up, fixing up the cups of her bathing suit “Honestly, perhaps the most relaxed I’ve ever been.”
“I’m really glad to hear it. Who could’ve thought we’d find solace at the beach, just you, me and about a hundred thirsty onlookers.”
“God, I’ve been dying to inform you of your fan club. Eleven o’clock, make sure you smile at them.”
Clint turned, not in the slightest inconspicuously, gracing the teenage girls a few towels over with a grin.
“I hope they’re okay,” he told Natasha “They seem to have good taste.”
“Pity you’d have to leave with me and break their hearts.”
“Yeah, pity. I’m quite a bit more worried about your contingent, miss femme fatale. How many do you think I can take?”
“However many I leave for you,” she looked at him, the condensation from his drink pooling around his groin. Mine. “Let’s go for a swim.”
☀
“You got plans for tonight?”
She slipped behind, resting her head against his back, arms tentatively weaved around his torso. What a simple, fleshly urge, to be pressed against him, running her lips over his skin.
“Mmm, there’s this woman-”
“Yeah?”
“I’m pretty sure she wants me to do things to her. Nasty things,” Clint turned, reaching for Natasha’s waist, his whisper coarse “We haven’t had a moment in a while.”
She felt the scorching heat inside her body, his hands gripping at the thighs he’d pulled around his hips, water gently splashing between the two of them. She could take him now, this weightlessness exhilarating, the thought of being one with him as the crashing waves drowned out her whimpers a little too much to handle.
“I don’t think I can wait until tonight,” hers was barely a murmur, eyes frantic with desire she could not withhold for much longer “Please.”