Warning: Here's the part where it's rated M. Don't say I didn't warn you…

Note: This was originally designed to be the last chapter to my "Moments In Time" fics, but I decided to post this chapter separately so I could keep that rated T. However, this is the still the result of all the Clint/Nat tension I was hoping to create.


It was 3am when he heard the knock. He jumped out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he opened the door. She flew into him, her arms encircling his neck possessively.

"Natasha… what the-" he asked once he registered who it was.

She interrupted him with a fierce kiss and for a second he wondered if he was still asleep, maybe dreaming as he shoved the door closed with his foot.


"Sssh.. don't talk," she commanded. "You want it. I want it. Let's just do this." She pushed herself further into him, her mouth once against pressing against his, and suddenly he was wide awake. Shit. This was real.

She didn't have to tell him twice. He eagerly kissed back, clumsily backing her against the wall. His tongue sought entry into her mouth and he entangled his fingers roughly in her hair as he was granted access.

He ran his hands down her body as they kissed, stopping just below her waist and easily lifting her off her feet.

She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, grinding against him. Her mouth moved to his ear and down his neck and he was lost in a sensation of lips, teeth, and tongue as she nibbled mercilessly once she found a particularly sensitive spot.

With a growl, he pulled her away from the wall, spinning her around and pushing her on the bed. His lips found hers again and he kissed her hungrily, greedily, his hands attempting to grope every inch of her.

She didn't let him have the upper hand for long; in seconds she'd crawled on top of him and tore off his shirt. She tossed a leg over his hips, effectively straddling him, and she continued her attack on his neck.

Her hands ghosted across his chest and his biceps, idly tracing the many scars left on his skin. His breathing was heavy and she had a dizzying effect on him as she moved her mouth along his throat, his collar bone, down his chest, nipping at his flesh, swirling her tongue around his navel. God, she was good at this. He wasn't even sure at what point she'd managed to pull his shorts off, the next thing he knew she had taken him into her mouth.

He was no stranger to this kind of pleasure, but he couldn't recall anyone ever getting him this worked up. "Shit…" he murmured, eyes rolling back in his head as her tongue slid up and down his length, her lips tight around him. "Fuck, Natasha, that's so good," he moaned.

He was sure he was going to lose it and he braced himself, but then she sat up and repositioned herself so her face was right in front of his. "No talking, remember?" she uttered, a little breathlessly.

So.. she wanted to play games. She of all people should know that Clint Barton rarely played fair. Without warning, he flipped her over flat on her back and pinned her down with his body. For the first time, he realized that she was still wearing her Black Widow jumpsuit , and he yanked the zipper down, momentarily thinking on how many times he had fantasized about this. Before she could push back, he pressed his lips to her neck, nibbled her ear, trailed his tongue across her jawline, down her throat, his rough hands following everywhere his lips touched. Her skin was deliciously smooth, except for the occasional scar. When he finally moved his hands over her breasts, he was pleased to find how hard her nipples already were.

She was no longer struggling for dominance now, her eyes closed, head thrown back in ecstasy, her long red curls spilling over his pillows. He brought his mouth back to hers as his hands wandered lower on her body, tempting her thighs apart with his knee. She eagerly obliged, breathing ragged as she kicked her panties off.

He moved his hand between her legs. He hadn't thought it was possible for him to get any harder than he already was after her teasing, but she was so wet, so warm, so ready… He was determined to make her moan just as readily as she had made him. He slipped two fingers into her and pumped slowly, teasingly.

It didn't take much exploring before he found the spot that she liked and he smiled satisfactorily when she started calling out to a god he didn't think she believed in.

"I thought you said no noise," he whispered huskily against her cheek.

"Oh, shut up and fuck me," she growled.

That did it. He pushed her legs further apart with his and thrust into her. She gasped, then quickly recovered, bucking her hips up to meet each thrust and causing him to groan with pleasure.

He fucked her hard, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He pushed harder, wanting more of those delicious sounds he now knew she could make.

It was only a second after she'd cried out his name that he found his release, panting as he collapsed on top of her.

Once again, she pushed him down into the bed, throwing an arm around his torso to keep him in place. She rested her head against his chest, her eyes trained on the ceiling and she focused on catching her breath.

He combed his fingers through her tangled locks and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Don't expect that to happen again," she said, a hint of a warning in her tone.

"Okay," he agreed with a grin, but only because he knew she'd be back.