Perched on the balcony, he stares out at the city. This is his comfort zone.
He scans the buildings and cars below, trying to recover, trying to remember himself before Loki, trying to forget the nightmare that haunts him every time he closes his eyes.
He wakes to the sound of his own screams each night. That's why he's out here now, trying to shake the remnants of his latest visions, letting the wind dry the sweat and tears he woke up covered in.
Years spent perched on ledges and tonight for the first time, he contemplates jumping. Nah, probably not a good idea, Nat would have Tony bring him back to life just so she could kill him again herself, and a good deal more painfully.
Tilting his head back slightly he closes his eyes.
No sound betrays her, he just knows. A scent undetectable by anyone else, not perfume, just pure Natasha.
Desire spikes through his despair, anger quickly follows. It's not a good combination.
"The door was locked for a reason, Nat."
"Why's that?" Her voice is deceptively soft.
"Seriously, I want some reasons."
Her voice nears, he can't look at her.
"Reasons why you lock your door."
He can feel her breath on the back of his neck. His comfort zone is 200 feet, hers is 2 inches.
"Reasons why you won't talk to me."
He looks away as she puts a hand on his bicep.
"Reasons you won't look at me."
His breath hitches. Her cool fingers burn against his bare skin. He's got to get her out of here. Now.
Pushing past her he brushes off her hand.
A low growl. Aw crap, she usually only makes that sound before -
Sharp pain shoots up his arm as she effortlessly swings him around with a wrist hold and throws him against the wall. "Look at me Barton, goddammit, I'm your partner and you will fucking level with me, right now!" Furious blue eyes sear into him, holding him in place.
He relaxes against her, a sign of submission. She frees the armlock, assuming victory. What she does not expect is the strong calloused fingers biting into her arms and the fury in his eyes as he lifts her up and swings her until she's pinned to the wall.
"You want reasons, Tasha?" His voice is a rasp of fear, rage and desire. "I keep the door locked because I don't want you here!"
"I don't want to see you.." His eyes drink her in like a man dying of thirst, giving lie to the words.
"I don't want smell you." He dips his head to her neck, inhaling deeply, her breath hitches.
"I don't want to taste you." Pulling her up to his height, he breaks the one rule he's managed to follow during their partnership. The thing he's wanted to do every day since. He kisses her. Crushing her mouth under his, he pins her to the wall with his weight, as his hands burry themselves in her hair.
She gives a surprised gasp, he take the opportunity and deepens the kiss. He half expects her to pull away from him at any moment, instead she wraps her legs wrap around him, kissing her way down his neck, as she nibbles on his earlobe, his hips involuntarily thrust up, grinding his erection against her. He gives a strangled gasp "Fuck, Nat."
She purrs with victory and grinds against him in response.
He's so distracted by the feel of her against him, he doesn't notice the words until they spill from his mouth.
"Nat... I've wanted this for so long."
It's the beginning of his dream. Those are always the first words, his words, right before Loki takes over.
Clint pulls back in horror, tearing himself from her.
"I shouldn't have done that." He staggers to the kitchen, he's kept a bottle of vodka in the freezer for her out of force of habit. He breaks the seal and takes a long draw. "Please go." He tries not to look at her, not to be distracted by the flush of her skin or the way her lips part as she pants for breath, Jesus Christ she's panting!
Hurt, confusion, anger - these are emotions he would expect, and those are there, but what he doesn't expect is the pained laugh and stinging blow to the back of the head as she steals the bottle and sets herself on the counter next to him.
"Really, Barton, you think you can kiss your partner like that after years of working together… after ignoring me for a week… you really expect me to leave?" She takes a pull and laughs again.
Her eyes darken and her tone is suddenly serious. "You have to talk about it. For me. For us. Clint, I can't be your partner if you don't tell me what's going on."
The ultimate ultimatum.
His shoulders slump as he takes the bottle and looks at his partner, searching for the words. "The dreams… they're killing me." He takes a drink. "Every night, I… I… Fuck." He can't say it.
"You dream of being under his control again?"
"Killing SHIELD agents?"
He nods, mute in misery.
"Slowly, intimately, in ways only you would know I fear." Her words are little more than a whisper.
He looks up at her, shocked. "What?"
"Loki and I had a little chat."
"And you didn't think this was important information to give your partner."
She glances sideways. "At the time, my partner was avoiding me like the plague."
Shame colors his cheeks.
"Tell me Clint, tell me about your nightmare."
"It starts with us. Like we were over there." He gestures to the wall he so recently had her pinned against. "Then the world turns blue. You try and knock him out of my head again, but I overpower you." A snort tells her what he thinks of that particular victory. "It's horrible, Nat. I'm trapped screaming in my own head, watching myself tear your clothing off, FEELING myself fuck you against your will while sliding an arrow into your heart."
She tits her head, thinking. No fire, no mutilation, a clean kill, that's good, perhaps even a merciful ending in the eyes of a mad god. It seems the wrong thing to say, so she remains quiet.
His fingers reach out caress the silk of her cheek without thinking.
"He called it mercy, the what he made me do to you. Told me it was my fault for making him…" His voice trails off.
"You didn't MAKE him do anything, Loki -"
He shakes his head violently. "No. You don't understand, I made him LOVE you."
"When he was in my head, he got everything that was in there, including you. I told him everything - every memory, every fear, every desire, he saw you though me, and I guess he liked the view." His shoulders shake with silent misery. "I'm sorry. Nat, I'm so fucking sorry."
Natasha tilts her head and makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a growl. She most definitely did NOT want to be on Loki's radar for that particular reason. However, there are more pressing matters, ones that she CAN control. Her pragmatic Russian mind quickly maps out a plan a strategy for what he needs, and how she's going to deliver on each of these things in order of importance.
Clint need to be convinced that:
1. Loki is out of his head and these are just dreams.
2. Sex with her is NOT going to be the trigger which sends him back under the bat shit crazy god's control.
3. She forgives him for causing Loki's infatuation (she refuses to indulge the notion that the mad god has the ability to love).
The solution for all of this is incredibly simple. After reaching a decision on strategy, she quells a fluttery and unfamiliar sensation, her breath quickens imperceptibly, she licks her lips in anticipation.
Completely oblivious and miserable, unable to meet her gaze, Barton is completely unprepared for her attack, he's flipped over the counter as her legs wrap around his neck and take him to the ground in one smooth movement. Gasping and choking, he looks up, she's perched above him like an avenging angel.
There's a metallic click, then another. His hands are immobilized - handcuffed to legs holding up the granite bar. He looks up at her, shocked.
"Um, Nat… Setting aside the question of where you were hiding those handcuffs, or better yet, WHY? What the fuck are you doing?"
Her smile would seduce an ordinary man, it would terrify a smarter man, Clint immediately knows he's in trouble.
"I'm persuading you." A small knife appears in her hand. His eyes widen in shock, but he does not struggle as she kneels on his chest. He watches her with a mixture of shock and arousal as the razor edge cuts through the fabric of his shirt easily - in the back of his mind where logical thought still lives, he's still wondering where the hell she's keeping all this weaponry, under that black slip of a nightgown.
"You think that you're to blame for being taken over by an insane god. You're not." The tattered remnants of the SHIELD issued garment goes flying. His breath catches as she's now straddling his bare stomach. The feel of her silky thighs and lace covered sex against his skin is making his brain short circuit.
"You think having sex with me will cause Loki to take over again. It won't." She flips around and starts working on his pants, still on top of him. She begins cutting away the fabric of his shorts, bending forward as she goes further, she allows the material of her nightgown to ride up over her ass. He makes a choked sound, she looks back over her shoulder and smiles at him, the returning gaze is of is pure, dark need.
"You think that I'll hate you for loving me." She leans over and caresses the silk of his boxers, his hips buck in response and the sound pulled from his throat is barely human. "I don't." Two quick slices and he's laid bare before her, he can feel her breath agains his aching cock as she whispers. "I just need to persuade you that you're mistaken."
She stands walks away a few steps, trying to even out her own breathing. She looks over at him beneath a veil of red hair and delibertly let's one strap of her tank top fall away. He let's out a rasp. As much as he wants her more than his next breath, he has to ask. "Nat… Why?" Please, please, please his eyes beg, tell me that this isn't just about work, about fixing your partner.
"I've been compromised Agent Barton." She smiles, a little sadly. "I have been for a long time." The second strap falls and the slip of black silk pools at her feet and she'd completely nude save for a pair of very small black lace panties.
The sight of her is breathtaking, not the nudity, or at least not just that. They've seen each other naked during mission, stitched up just about every body part - but this is different, she's not covered in gore or seducing some drug lord who's body will never be found. She's HIS. The heat radiating from her is more than the sum of all those splendid parts (ridiculously luscious lips, ivory skin and perfect breasts, small nipples hard and bitable… the list goes on forever). No. It's as if she gives off a special smoldering heat directed just for him.
She kneels him straddling and takes out the knife, she slowly, deliberately slices each corner of black lace and tosses the ruined cloth behind her. Sweat breaks out all over him. "Normally, I think I'd like you to tear them off… but there's always next time." He's not sure which words send more blood to his cock, but it throbs with the idea of ripping that swatch of material, and that she's thinking in the future tense.
On all fours above him she drops her head till their lips are inches apart her voice comes out a breathy whisper. "Kiss me."
His mouth devours hers, locked on in the only way he physically can, he kisses her like he wants to swallow her, like he has her on a hook, as though he could hold her that way, no matter how helpless he was before her. The perfect partnership of lips tongues and will continued as her breasts pressed against him, luscious and sweet, feasting on each other as his wrists pulled mercilessly against the handcuffs.
Gasping she pulls from the kiss, almost undone by the way he managed to possess her, even bound and pinned beneath her. She rears up and pants his name. "Clint." Positioning herself above him, he grits his teeth trying not to rut up at her. "I'm going to fuck you now." A spike of terror shoots through lust in his eyes. "And you're only going to think about me." She lowers herself down on him, so tight and wet it astonishes him, obliterates any thought except HER, her convulsing flesh around his cock, her breasts as the bounce with her movements, nothing else matters.
Forcing herself down on him again and again, she throws back her head and yells out to a god neither of them believe in, as her movements speed up. Knowing he's on a razors edge, she bends down and kisses him again. Lost in that moment, kissing her brutally he loses himself inside her completely. She explodes above him, moaning animalistic and raw. He holds nothing back, spending into her, fucking her harder than he's ever fucked anything real or phantom of the imagination in his entire life.
She collapses against him and they lie entwined for minutes while heartbeats and breathing slow. Staring at him, at his dark, un-iced blue eyes, she smiles. "Glad you're still with me."
"I'm still here - you're still here. You were right." His answering smile is one of awe and humor. "Your powers of persuasion are truly amazing."
She smirks at him "Never doubt your partner, I'm always right." She uncuffs him and frowns at the marks on he's made from pulling against them, kissing the inside of each wrist, he shutters as he sits up, crushing her against him in an embrace that would hurt a ordinary person. She only sighs in approval and returns the embrace.
They stay like that until a slip of paper makes a small sound as it glides under the door.
Your mission to fix your hawk, while successful, has done nothing to help the other members of the team sleep. As it now stands Bruce has put himself into the isolation chamber until he can get his heart rate down, Thor has excused himself to be with his 'Lady Jane' for the week, Pepper is exhausted (naturally, because I'm as awesome in bed as I am everywhere else), and Steve is destroying every punching bag in greater Manhattan.
You and your Hawk are hereby banished to the top floor of the tower where Pepper is currently redesigning a single unit for you both with extra soundproofing, it should be ready by Tuesday. In the mean time, just getting the superhero porn soundtrack without images is just cruel. Please either check into the nearest hotel or stop reprogramming Jarvis to disable the video feeds.
AN- this is a Sequel to Mercy, thanks to everyone who reviewed the first one!
Prequel can be found at s/8185891/1/Mercy
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This was un-betaed so all stupid typos are mine, but I felt the need to get this one out as it has been percolating in my brain for far too long.