Natasha feels his mouth contract beneath her fingers, his breath warm, and she knows he’s watching her. Waiting for her to make the call that creates or destroys them.
Oh, it would be so easy. To lean forward, brush her lips to his - to have his thigh between her legs as she rocks against him, a smooth, muscled chest beneath her fingers as they move together in the way they were made to…. but she can’t. Not yet.
Right now, he needs too much from her (she needs too much from him, but that admission is buried deeply) for her to promise this to him. Years of training and disappointment have warned her that upping and leaving had to always be an option, and the moment her lips touch Clint’s is the moment that it ceases to be so.
Not trapped, but not safe either.
She still can’t stop herself from touching him, mapping out what she might lose… and it’s with that thought, allowing no other to permeate her mind, that she leans in, pressing her mouth to the join of his jaw.
Nowhere near what she wants, but more than she could’ve hoped for. Not with the taste of sharp aftershave and the roughness of his neglected stubble grazing her lips. “Clint,” she murmurs, before another kiss finds his jaw. “Stop me. You should.”
Everything Clint wants and needs is here, right in his arms. He can see her eyes watching him, just as he is watching her. But the only thing he knows he wants - is the only he can’t have.
It’s dangerous, it had always been. There is no way in hell that this is a wonderful idea. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting it. There is no person, not a single one, that would be able make him open up like that. That would bring him to stay in a situation like this, where everything is unclear and confusing to him.
But he stays. He stays and he watches and as she doesn’t stop touching him, instead leans in to press her mouth against his jaw - he knows he’s lost. He’s lost in her, in the feeling of her being so close to him, in the warmth of her lips on his skin and her scent being even stronger.
Her words send a trail of goosebumps down his spine, as he let out a very quiet chuckle.
“I can’t.”, he whispers, taking one hand from around her to rest it on her cheek, not being able to see her anymore. He stares at the wall, before he lowers his eyes and looks at the rest of her, at least that he can see.He surely isn’t able to stop her, especially not if this is all he ever wanted from her, Not specifically, but the idea was the same. He doesn’t dare to turn his head to her, afraid inside of what he might lose. She always had full control over him, never claimed it, but she did. And he knows she knows that. So he just waits, waits for her to make the call.
Theirs had always been a precarious balance of power, and never more so than at this moment. Natasha doesn’t do uncertainty, not like this; it’s too dangerous for her to be so professionally and so she’s never allowed it to creep into her private life… Not that it’s so private anymore, not with half of SHIELD out looking for her.
The laugh he gives is warming, a balm to the reality of the situation. In place of responding verbally, she simply rests her hand on his forearm, stroking her thumb over the muscles tensed beneath the skin.
She needs this contact for just a few more moments before she decides; if she’s going to ruin them both, she wants this to remember them by. To know that no matter what happened, there was somewhere she could always go.
Slowly, Natasha looks up at Clint, memorising every single detail. She knows it by heart, but this is the last time she’ll look at him and not know how it feels to kiss him.
Almost as though she’s afraid of breaking them both - and it’s ridiculous, she knows how much he can draw, the power in her own hands - she shifts again, eyes locked with his as she leans closer. This is her putting herself in debt to Clint again, she knows, but it’s worth it.
The kiss, when it comes, is feather light, barely more than the brush of their lips together. There’s no lightening bolt, no chorus of angels - just the absolute, unwavering certainty that this is just exactly what should be.
bannerandbarton reblogged this from inheritorofmemories and added:
Clint looks at her, he’s not that big of a mind, really, but he understands a lot. And so he understands what she’s...
inheritorofmemories reblogged this from bannerandbarton and added:
Natasha rests her hands on his chest, fingers twitching slightly with the need to make him understand - well, that and...