FIC Replace the Unwanted
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shanachie_quillTitle: Replace the Unwanted
Characters: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Series:
Written For: 12 Days of Christmas
Prompt:
Summary: Natasha has pretty much one thing on her mind when she enters Clint’s quarters and she’s going to get it.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Natasha is dominant, Natasha is possessive, Using Clint although he’s not objecting
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: So this was supposed to be part of my 12 Days of Christmas, but I fail at actually finishing it. Sorry? I’m still going to post it as part of the series (and the others that I have planned). Special thanks to illfindmyway for the beta and to chrismouse who is always my Russian translator.
Clint looked up as Natasha sauntered into his quarters on base, a slinky dress falling around her knees. His eyes raked down her body, taking in the silken stockings and stiletto heels before drifting back upwards to see a blonde wig covering her normal fiery locks. “That’s a new look,” he commented.
Natasha placed her hand on his chest, pushing him backwards towards the chair on the opposite side of the room. “Uh, Tash?” he asked as he allowed her to shove him into the chair.
“Shut up,” she told him.
Clint scooted his butt backwards, his hands automatically going to the divots in her hips. “Not that I’m objecting,” he said as she hiked the skirt up and straddled his legs. “But is there a reason for this?”
“Does there need to be a reason?” she asked, scratching her fingers down his t-shirt.
“No. No there definitely does not need to be,” he answered as she pressed herself against his rapidly hardening cock. “This does need to be your choice though.”
“I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t my choice,” she assured him.
“Just checking,” he told her.
“Good. Enough talking.” She leaned back slightly, his hands shifting along her sides as she moved.
“What do you want?” he asked. Clint wasn’t passive, but he was willing to let Natasha take the lead.
She gripped his hair, tilting his head to the side. “I want you to fuck me.”
He shifted, intending to get up and carry her to the bed. “Let’s move then.”
“No. Here. Now.” Natasha’s hands slipped between their bodies, finding the button and zipper of his cargo pants and quickly undoing them. “I don’t want to move.”
Clint stretched his legs out, letting Natasha kneel up on the chair. He let her set the pace, but traced fingers across the lace at the top of her bodice. “Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging on the strands of the wig.
In response, she reached up, tugging the blonde locks off and tossing them away, the cap that was underneath quickly following. Clint ran his fingers through her red curls, disturbing the pins and twists that had held it tight to her head. They fell to the ground with a tinkling sound and he used his grip to pull her to him, pressing his mouth to her neck.
He knew better than to kiss her when she was in this mood; she’d be just as liable to bite him as kiss him back. Unzipping the top of her dress, he bared her breasts, cupping them in his callused palms.
Natasha shifted on his lap, her training didn’t allow her to do something as uncouth as wiggle, but she was clearly trying to get position. He slid the straps the rest of the way off her arms, freeing them, and she pulled her hands free. As she knelt up so she could reach down between them, he took her nipple into his mouth.
“Yeees,” she breathed as he sucked firmly on the bud before releasing it and nipping at the skin above it. He trailed the hand not helping support her down her bare arm and over to her leg.
Smiling, Clint slid his hand up her leg, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against her silk stockings and then the smoothness of the soft skin of her leg. He groaned as he reached where he thought her panties should be and found nothing but her. Without any warning, he sank two fingers into her, groaning again at how wet she already was.
Natasha reached into his cargo pants and Clint was glad he hadn’t bothered with underwear after changing out of his tactical uniform earlier in the day as her hot hand closed around his cock. She eased him out of his pants, running her hand along his length. “I want you in me,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”
Clint rubbed his fingers against her clit, smiling at the shudder his action invoked. He stilled his movement as he felt her press his cockhead to her entrance. She moaned at the stretch as she lowered herself down onto him, not allowing him to remove his fingers first.
For a moment, they froze like that before Clint slowly withdrew his fingers, rubbing them across her clit as he did. Natasha’s own fingers dug into his shoulders as he did so and he realized he couldn’t remember when she’d moved them. He mentally shrugged it off. If Natasha was going to kill him, he wouldn’t see it coming no matter what.
She undulated against him, squeezing her inner muscles against his cock as Clint pushed up into her as much as he was able. Their position didn’t give him much room to move, but she didn’t seem to care. Pressing against him, she rolled her hips into him, clenching around him.
Clint cupped her breast in one hand, running his thumb over her nipple, as she moved. Relaxing into the sensation of Natasha’s body as she found a rhythm, he tilted his head to run his tongue across her nipple. It wouldn't long before the pressure started building and he wanted to feel her quaking through her orgasm before he came.
Natasha shuddered, digging her fingers into his shoulders as he continued to tongue her nipple. Her motion didn’t cease and he nipped at the skin around her areola, trying to draw a sound from her.
When that didn’t work and he could feel himself getting closer, he slipped his free hand under her dress again. Running his hand across the silk of her stockings, he smiled at the hitch of her breath. Still she didn’t make a sound other than that and he moved his hand higher. Rubbing his thumb against where he was sliding in and out of her, he wrapped his other arm around her as she clenched tightly around him.
Natasha grabbed his hair, tipping his head back, and sucking a bruise into his bared neck. “Tvoya ocherd. Preehadeete dlya menya, lyoubnik.”
Clint shuddered through his own orgasm at her words, feeling a slight tensing as Natasha had a smaller orgasm with him. He relaxed back into the chair as she slumped against him.
Clint leaned his head back against the wall, breathing heavily. “So was there any particular reason you wanted me to…” he paused not sure how to phrase it.
“I wanted him off me,” Natasha replied matter-of-factly.
“Let me know if you need him off you some more,” Clint said. “I’m happy to oblige.” Natasha smacked him in response and Clint winced. “You don’t have to abuse me, just ask.”
Tvoya ocherd. Preehadeete dlya menya, lyoubnik.--Your turn. Come for me, lover.
Characters: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Series:
Written For: 12 Days of Christmas
Prompt:
Summary: Natasha has pretty much one thing on her mind when she enters Clint’s quarters and she’s going to get it.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Warnings: Natasha is dominant, Natasha is possessive, Using Clint although he’s not objecting
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: So this was supposed to be part of my 12 Days of Christmas, but I fail at actually finishing it. Sorry? I’m still going to post it as part of the series (and the others that I have planned). Special thanks to illfindmyway for the beta and to chrismouse who is always my Russian translator.
On the Nineth Day of Christmas... My Fandom Author Gave to Me:
Clint looked up as Natasha sauntered into his quarters on base, a slinky dress falling around her knees. His eyes raked down her body, taking in the silken stockings and stiletto heels before drifting back upwards to see a blonde wig covering her normal fiery locks. “That’s a new look,” he commented.
Natasha placed her hand on his chest, pushing him backwards towards the chair on the opposite side of the room. “Uh, Tash?” he asked as he allowed her to shove him into the chair.
“Shut up,” she told him.
Clint scooted his butt backwards, his hands automatically going to the divots in her hips. “Not that I’m objecting,” he said as she hiked the skirt up and straddled his legs. “But is there a reason for this?”
“Does there need to be a reason?” she asked, scratching her fingers down his t-shirt.
“No. No there definitely does not need to be,” he answered as she pressed herself against his rapidly hardening cock. “This does need to be your choice though.”
“I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t my choice,” she assured him.
“Just checking,” he told her.
“Good. Enough talking.” She leaned back slightly, his hands shifting along her sides as she moved.
“What do you want?” he asked. Clint wasn’t passive, but he was willing to let Natasha take the lead.
She gripped his hair, tilting his head to the side. “I want you to fuck me.”
He shifted, intending to get up and carry her to the bed. “Let’s move then.”
“No. Here. Now.” Natasha’s hands slipped between their bodies, finding the button and zipper of his cargo pants and quickly undoing them. “I don’t want to move.”
Clint stretched his legs out, letting Natasha kneel up on the chair. He let her set the pace, but traced fingers across the lace at the top of her bodice. “Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging on the strands of the wig.
In response, she reached up, tugging the blonde locks off and tossing them away, the cap that was underneath quickly following. Clint ran his fingers through her red curls, disturbing the pins and twists that had held it tight to her head. They fell to the ground with a tinkling sound and he used his grip to pull her to him, pressing his mouth to her neck.
He knew better than to kiss her when she was in this mood; she’d be just as liable to bite him as kiss him back. Unzipping the top of her dress, he bared her breasts, cupping them in his callused palms.
Natasha shifted on his lap, her training didn’t allow her to do something as uncouth as wiggle, but she was clearly trying to get position. He slid the straps the rest of the way off her arms, freeing them, and she pulled her hands free. As she knelt up so she could reach down between them, he took her nipple into his mouth.
“Yeees,” she breathed as he sucked firmly on the bud before releasing it and nipping at the skin above it. He trailed the hand not helping support her down her bare arm and over to her leg.
Smiling, Clint slid his hand up her leg, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against her silk stockings and then the smoothness of the soft skin of her leg. He groaned as he reached where he thought her panties should be and found nothing but her. Without any warning, he sank two fingers into her, groaning again at how wet she already was.
Natasha reached into his cargo pants and Clint was glad he hadn’t bothered with underwear after changing out of his tactical uniform earlier in the day as her hot hand closed around his cock. She eased him out of his pants, running her hand along his length. “I want you in me,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”
Clint rubbed his fingers against her clit, smiling at the shudder his action invoked. He stilled his movement as he felt her press his cockhead to her entrance. She moaned at the stretch as she lowered herself down onto him, not allowing him to remove his fingers first.
For a moment, they froze like that before Clint slowly withdrew his fingers, rubbing them across her clit as he did. Natasha’s own fingers dug into his shoulders as he did so and he realized he couldn’t remember when she’d moved them. He mentally shrugged it off. If Natasha was going to kill him, he wouldn’t see it coming no matter what.
She undulated against him, squeezing her inner muscles against his cock as Clint pushed up into her as much as he was able. Their position didn’t give him much room to move, but she didn’t seem to care. Pressing against him, she rolled her hips into him, clenching around him.
Clint cupped her breast in one hand, running his thumb over her nipple, as she moved. Relaxing into the sensation of Natasha’s body as she found a rhythm, he tilted his head to run his tongue across her nipple. It wouldn't long before the pressure started building and he wanted to feel her quaking through her orgasm before he came.
Natasha shuddered, digging her fingers into his shoulders as he continued to tongue her nipple. Her motion didn’t cease and he nipped at the skin around her areola, trying to draw a sound from her.
When that didn’t work and he could feel himself getting closer, he slipped his free hand under her dress again. Running his hand across the silk of her stockings, he smiled at the hitch of her breath. Still she didn’t make a sound other than that and he moved his hand higher. Rubbing his thumb against where he was sliding in and out of her, he wrapped his other arm around her as she clenched tightly around him.
Natasha grabbed his hair, tipping his head back, and sucking a bruise into his bared neck. “Tvoya ocherd. Preehadeete dlya menya, lyoubnik.”
Clint shuddered through his own orgasm at her words, feeling a slight tensing as Natasha had a smaller orgasm with him. He relaxed back into the chair as she slumped against him.
Clint leaned his head back against the wall, breathing heavily. “So was there any particular reason you wanted me to…” he paused not sure how to phrase it.
“I wanted him off me,” Natasha replied matter-of-factly.
“Let me know if you need him off you some more,” Clint said. “I’m happy to oblige.” Natasha smacked him in response and Clint winced. “You don’t have to abuse me, just ask.”
Tvoya ocherd. Preehadeete dlya menya, lyoubnik.--Your turn. Come for me, lover.
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