It’s simple. The best things always are, she’s found, but it still shocks her. The process of fighting it has been so intensely convoluted that it seems almost futile now.
As Clint leans in further, noticeable only to someone as close as she is now, Natasha knows that the time when she could draw back is gone. They can only move forward now, and it’s that knowledge which allows the simple press of lips to shift into a kiss, the first moment where it is more than crossing invisible lines.
Moments like these have always intrigued her, and to find herself pliant (although far from passive) in his hold is a surprise. Her fingers tighten on his forearm, as though trying to anchor herself, but her capacity to notice such details - or even wish to notice them - is diminished by the need to discover the numerous ways their lips fit together.
If come morning, she thinks, there’s only a cell at SHIELD for her, it’ll be worth staying. For him. The thought is terrifying, a gaping chasm of weakness, but it’s fact.
The only thing Clint feels are her lips against his, the slight pressure turning into a real kiss, the closeness of them both making him feel dizzy. His heartbeat is speeding up a little, making him feel more vulnerable than before.She is the only one able to make him this vulnerable and her soft skin touching his nose is making him draw in a deeper breath.
The way she always treated him was different than from what she was treating him now like, her scent now so present in his nose that he can’t draw away anymore. That her lips on his and the hand on his arm are the only things that count in his mind.
It’s quiet where they are, but his mind is loud, his thoughts are racing and vanishing in the same time, drawn away from her being. He had always been trapped when it came to her, she was the only thing he would always run to if she would be in trouble.
But right now, right now he doesn’t care, his thumb moving slowly over her soft cheek, the skin under his fingertip feeling incredibly soft and her lips feeling perfect against his own. They fit together, fit together so good, that he - again - thinks they are made for each other.
Natasha allows her free hand to card through Clint’s hair, drawing him closer to her. Now that the floodgates have opened, she can’t see how easing his lips open, tongue tracing the seam of his mouth, could do any more harm. She’s ruined them both and there are no degrees of ruination. It’s complete from the moment of the first fall.
Her own pulse has picked up, thudding in her throat, and she’s had a thousand other kisses that have failed to move her as this does. It isn’t simply physical - that’s perhaps the problem. This is the latest step in a long, complex relationship, and it means so much more than simple physical release.
“Clint,” she murmurs, and she barely recognises the breathlessness in her own voice. It’s a little terrifying, how out of control he has her, and she silences herself with his mouth once more.
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...