bettercallit | (no subject)

Good to know my presence is wanted.

[ The huff of breath comes out hitched, and he's so close now, his hands lifting to loosely rest at her sides, barely making contact, but very much there. When did that happen? He can't quite shake the fog that's blocking his thoughts, pulling him under no matter how much he tries to fight.

His heart races, and he's not sure if it's her or the reminder of Loki's mind-fuck, or maybe both. But leans in so close, so close his lips brush hers as a broken whisper escapes him. ] Tasha.

[ He's not sure if it's pleading with her to push him away, to break the spell, or for permission to keep going. But he can't fight the pull much longer. ]

Always. [Her voice is just above a whisper, it has an almost dreamy lazy quality too it.

She should step back, she should make a little joke and step back. His hands are on her sides and they're heavy enough to know they're there, but still a little cautious in their grip. She finds herself stepping that last little bit closer, leaving no space between them. She just wants him to...

There is a beat of hesitation. Something isn't right. Something...

She can't quite put her finger on what it is, because right now? Everything is right, right? This is right.

Her eyes closes, lips parted just slightly. Her senses are filled with him. The weight of his hands on her sides, the brush of his lips against hers when he whispers her name. The scent of his skin.

When did her arms loop around his neck? Her fingers are raking through his hair. Her brow tightens for just a moment, as though she's trying to remember something, but nothing comes to her except the idea to nod. To give him permiss-

Oh fuck it, she closes the space, that gap between their lips that isn't much more than the difference between barely touching and sealing a kiss.]

[ Clint reacts before he's got time to realise that he's doing it, to process what it is that's happening, and he can feel a list of reasons nagging at the back of his mind as to why this shouldn't be happening, why he might have considered it, idly, but never acted upon it.

Phil.

The thought is there and then it's gone, and he's not sure if he feels guilty about that or relieved, or a little of box. And the thought that, yes, this is Natasha, one of so few people he trusts, and this could ruin everything.

But it doesn't matter, none of it does, because by the time his mind has caught up, the gears setting into place, he's pressed up against her, invading her space, with one arm wrapped firmly around her middle and the other cupping her face, thumb running backward and forward along her jawline.

It suddenly doesn't feel very cold anymore. ]

[His arm around her pulling her into him, strong and perfect, right where she wants to be.

But no, no, no...the arm around her is wrong. It's flesh and bone, not the faintly cold unyielding metal she's used to, and the voice in her head that would tell her that is wrong is so quiet she can't hear it over her pounding heart.

So quiet. It only speaks up once before the swirl of other thoughts swallow up the sound of it and she tilts her head a fraction into the fingers brushing across her cheek.

There isn't anything else right now, just the two of them and the kiss that is tender, sweet and his thumb's slow sweep along her jaw prompts her to open up to him. To relax and pass a quick flickering brush of her tongue, in an effort to satisfy that urge that was desperately seeking a taste.

Nothing else but him. No snow, no cold. Not now. Any lingering trepidation she might have had about this- about them- is washed away with another slide of his thumb along her cheek.]

[ A soft, quiet moan escapes him at the flick of her tongue, and he opens up to her, shifting the angle of his head to better slot them together, the kiss gradually turning from light and gentle to something a little more firm, the heat of her mouth drawing him in.

A part of him can still feel that this is wrong, or not wrong, but that it could cause problems, isn't something that he should enter into lightly, but the rest of him just doesn't care, can't fight the overwhelm urge to step as close to her, to keep her as close as he can. ]

[That's better. His jaw relaxes and his head tilts... That's... wrong. No. It's not wrong, it was just missing something it was missing...

There. This.. Firmer more confident. That's what was missing. More sure of themselves. More sure that they want this- Yes. So much better.

Why would they not want this though? The warmth of their bodies pressed together. The way they fit against each other. They'd been building toward this moment for a little while hadn't they?

No. What? Yes. Yes, they have. She might even have convinced herself that the night after she found out that Coulson was gone and they talked about everything sprawled out across the couch, that she wanted to kiss him, but she thought it was in poor taste since he'd just lost a friend.

Timing is everything and now?

There isn't anything wrong with this at all.

She draws a sharp little breath in through her nose and melts into him. She tugs at the hair at the back of his head, urgent and distracted by everything that is him.]

[ Even as he melts into the kiss, into the embrace, eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into it, lets his body act and his mind stop over-thinking it, he can still feel the nagging of something at the back of his thoughts, but he's choosing to ignore it, now, and he can sense that there's some kind of conflict going through Natasha's mind for a time, too, which eventually fades into background noise.

Getting more daring, Clint tests the boundaries, tongue teasing at her lower lip, running over her teeth, until he finally gains the full access he thinks he's wanted for a while, taking advantage of her opening up to him. It feels good, as good as he always idly thought it would, better even, and he comes close to losing himself in it, to forgetting who he is and everything that's happened.

His hatred for mind control and controlling curses aside, this one might not be as bad as it could, and whatever thoughts plague him later, right now he's thankful that it's her he's with and not someone who means nothing to him, to cheapen it by feeling dirty after. ]

[Maybe it was purely fate that they managed to avoid everyone else all day, because being right here together is where they were supposed to be anyway. Or maybe that's just what she'll tell herself when this is over and they come back to themselves after whatever hold this curse has on them wears off. Either way, it doesn't really matter.

His tongue flickers across her lip, across her teeth the has half a mind to catch it, but she doesn't. Instead, she touches it with her own, letting it dance across his; open mouths and sealed lips muffling the happy- yes, happy- moan that would have otherwise been heard. She's been here before, with her Clint, a long time ago and the memories of that aren't anything compared to the present.

Her hands move down to his face, then to his shoulders, they move down to curl in his coat and hold him there. Keep him. Not that he's trying to get away.

Below them in the city there are people doing exactly this, but she wouldn't have wanted any one else (Not that she had a say in it anyway). No, it's better that it is him. Between them they're wholly more well equipped to handle any potential fallout.]