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You and Me, Maybe
Darcy had not planned this.
At least that’s what she liked to tell herself, because the truth, which she was so adamantly and thoroughly ignoring, was that she’d known the moment she laid eyes on Clinton Barton that if she ever got the chance she would have sex with him, consequences be damned. Famous last words.
Then one night, the opportunity arose and sure enough she grabbed the opportunity (and him) with both hands.
Drunk, laughing, and high off of the victory of beer pong, they had been the last of their crew to leave the bar.
“Darcy, I feel bad asking this, but do you think you would walk me home?” Clint asked, quite solemnly.
“What?” she asked, sure she hadn’t heard correctly.
“Walk me home – it’s a dangerous city and I don’t want to walk home in the dark alone and unarmed,” he said. He managed to keep a straight face for all of twelve seconds before his lips twitched and Darcy snorted.
They left the bar and headed towards the mansion. She was giddy and when he wrapped his arm around her, he assured her it was to keep her tethered to the earth. The contact did not help her feel more grounded. Someone came running past them and Darcy thought the person would have shoved her and Clint sideways if Clint hadn’t pulled their bodies out of the way before it happened. He slid the two of them into the shadows of an alley, pressing her between the scratchy brick wall and his firm, warm body while he peered around the corner.
Darcy wasn’t sure if she was melting or about to go up in flames, but either way her temperature was heating beyond what she knew to be survivable by the human body. At first his body was tense, but then seemed to ease.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure it was nothing, it was just instinct.” What he had not done was release her from where she was pinned between the brick and the wall of his body. She was not complaining.
“Thank you,” she breathed. The rise and fall of her chest seemed to catch his attention and he appeared to realize just how much he had pressed into her. She could he was considering something very carefully, but she was afraid he would move away and leave her cold. This was her chance and she had to take it.
She wrapped her hands around his hips, flicking her thumbs underneath the edge of his shirt to brush along the edges of his abdomen. He sucked in a breath and for a moment she held her own, waiting to see how he would respond. She needn’t have worried.
He pulled her to him and away from the brick building enough to wrap his arms around her, one low around her waist and the other high around her shoulders as if to maximize the inches of her body pressed to his. Feeling the hard length of him pressed against her, Darcy found that she was not disappointed. The kiss decided the heat predicament for her – oh yes, she was going up in flames.
One hand migrated to her hair and then cupped the back of her head as he kissed her. A taxi’s horn blared close by and they broke apart, startled to realize they were still in an alley.
“Come on,” he said, “let me walk you home.”
They continued their walk, neither of them speaking. Darcy couldn’t be sure of Clint’s reason for the silence, but there was a riot going on inside of her that trapped any words from escaping.
They walked through the entrance to Avengers’ Tower. Clint nodded to the guard at the front desk which the guard returned before smiling at Darcy. She smiled back and gave a little wave as she and Clint made their way to the elevators.
While waiting for the elevator, which thankfully didn’t take too long, Darcy glanced at Clint, to see if she could read his body language, and discern anything from him. Their eyes met and Darcy felt herself go pink.
“Which floor?” he asked her, as they stepped in the elevator; after he indicated she should go first with a sweep of his arm.
“Thirty-three,” she told him. She considered telling him that he didn’t have to walk her all the way to her door, but then she clamped her mouth shut. The moment in the alley had left her on fire and panting and, for the love of God, she wasn’t about to sabotage her chances.
True to his word, he walked her all the way to her door. She unlocked it and opened it, but didn’t step through, unsure of how to get him through the door. He’d wedged his fingers into his front pockets and she wasn’t sure if that meant he wanted to come in or he wanted to bolt.
“Um,” she said, deciding that the direct route might be the best one if she could get her stomach out of her throat long enough to manage to say the words. “Do you, maybe, um, want to come in?” she finally managed to ask. She could feel her pulse in her ear drums and wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear his answer over the thunderous sound.
“Sure,” he said casually. At least Darcy was pretty sure she’d heard that correctly. She walked in first, turning on the light as she held the door open for him to follow behind her. She almost locked the door after she closed it behind them out of habit but she didn’t want to be creepy.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to say next, though she was pretty sure her mouth would come up with something if she opened it. While that was never really a wise choice, she wasn’t sure what other choice she had since her mind was blank of intelligent topics of conversation or possible non-sequiturs to get them started talking at the moment.
She turned to face him anyway, in hopes that she wouldn’t say something completely foolish or embarrassing, but when she caught his eyes any words she had got stuck in her throat. Hell, she couldn’t even breathe.
Darcy’s mind might still have been unsure, but her body didn’t have any such confusion. It reacted to that smoldering look by launching her into his arms, half jumping. He boosted her jump, evidently ready for her response and wanting it because he facilitated her perfectly, allowing her to easily wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
He kissed her and she opened to him as his tongue explored her mouth and his hands gripped her ass holding her securely against him. She pushed one hand down the back of his shirt, reveling in the ripple of the muscles she found there. His response was to walk her over to her kitchen counter and deposit her on it before jerking his shirt over his head. He didn’t move away from her though, he kept her legs spread wide around his hips. He needn’t have worried about her going anywhere though, not when things were getting good.
Darcy’s hands had minds of their own as they outlined the muscles on Clint’s chest and torso, but she didn’t have the concentration to watch them for very long because Clint’s hands had begun finding the edges of her clothing and skin and separating them, pulling her shirt over her head.
“Oh God,” she heard him whisper when he discovered her not-quite-sheer black demi bra which had her already full breasts pushed high making them seem barely contained. He swept his thumbs over her nipples. They were so sensitive that the combination of the pressure of his thumbs and fine scratch of the fabric sent an intense sensation through her. The pleasure almost hurt as it echoed through her body. He paused in his quest rid both of their clothing to kiss her again. Clint cradled her face with both his hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks now as he nibbled at her lips and tickled her mouth with his tongue.
“Please,” he said, “if you don’t want to do this, just tell me now. Tell me, tell me stop, tell me don’t, but say so now. Please if you’re going to say any of those words, say them now.”
“No,” she said, “For fuck’s sake, don’t stop.”
“Smart ass,” he accused, but she could feel the smile of his lips against hers when he went back to devouring her mouth. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, while a crazy, wild smile curled her lips.
“Oh yeah,” he said solemnly. He worked her skirt up and she lifted off the counter to oblige him, though she was careful to lean forward in the process so as not to bang her head on the cabinetry. She kicked off her shoes while Clint nuzzled and licked at her nipples through the fine fabric of her bra. She moaned softly as he pulled down the fabric exposing her breast completely to the cool air of the apartment. Her nipple tightened and she felt the same sharp pleasure ripple through her and more wetness gathering between her legs as the want grew more desperate.
Something suspiciously like a whimper issued from her throat as Clint’s teeth grazed along her nipple and his hands divested her of her bra. Once he’d tossed it aside, he began to worry the other breast with his teeth and tongue, while his wicked, wicked fingers played with the edge of the leggings she’d worn underneath her skirt. He kissed a trail down her middle, though he couldn’t complete the task with her skirt hiked up as it was, but his hands were pulling at the fabric of her leggings and panties and she’d hitched her hips and shifted to help him get them off her without thinking.
With the exception of the very mini jean skirt around her middle, Darcy was naked, and suddenly feeling a little bashful knowing it was a man whose sight and precision earned him the name “Hawkeye” whose eyes were currently raking over her. Instinct had her starting to cover herself. Clint wrapped a hand around each of her wrists and again parted her legs by sliding his hips between her knees.
He pinned each of her hands to the cabinets behind her head and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Let me.” He didn’t elaborate on what he was asking of her, but she found herself nodding yes. He kissed her soundly, playing with her lips with his own, fueling the fire in her belly and between her thighs. The cool air now easily drifted along her exposed center and had her body clenching and aching.
“Rest against the cabinet,” he said between kisses down her neck and throat. Her sensation-flooded brain couldn’t process why’d he’d suggested it, but she obliged as she rejoiced in the kisses he was pressing into her skin and the teasing, shiver inducing strokes of his fingers on her thighs guiding her legs farther apart.
Clint’s mouth was suddenly exploring Darcy’s sex and her body snapped to attention, which made her thankful she’d taken his suggestion about the cabinet because she might have smacked her head otherwise. He moved his arms underneath her legs and held them open, spread wide and keeping her clamped and unable to move away from the incessant, relentless strokes of his tongue against her inner pearl.
She writhed and squirmed, scrambling for something to grip, unsure if she wanted to pull away or just get more. Her hands clamped around cabinets’ handles, occasionally opening one before slamming it shut again. Her legs had wound themselves around Clint’s back, knowing he was the source of the overwhelming pleasure short circuiting her brain. The sound Darcy heard in her ears, the one that seemed to be emanating from her throat, was near indescribable, though it seemed related to both the moan and the whimper.
She then felt more than heard the groan Clint made as it vibrated against her sensitive flesh and her whole body went rigid. She might have cried out as the orgasm fired through her. Her vision went dark for a moment before the stars came dancing behind her eyelids. He didn’t stop immediately, though he slowed, and softened his attentions gently as she shuddered and squeaked and trembled her way back towards conscious thought.
“Holy God,” she barely managed to get out of her tight throat and chest. Clint kissed along her legs and body.
Maybe it was because she’d gotten so worked up, maybe because it was because she hadn’t had good sex in so very long, or maybe it was because it was this was Clint Barton the Archer Extraordinaire who always hit his target stroking her body, but whatever the reason, Darcy wanted more.
Clint seemed to know what she wanted and clearly wanted it too.
“I think we should get you to bed,” he said.
She found herself smiling into his lips as she kissed him. He pulled away and looked around the kitchen.
“Which way to bed?” he asked.
Darcy pressed her hands against his chest so that he backed up enough for her to jump down from the counter. Once she was down, Darcy set her skirt to rights.
“Follow me,” she told him. Clint obliged, but his hands were already at her waist moving from behind her to begin divesting her of the only scrap of clothing left on her body.
She smacked his hands away playfully. “Not till you’re out of those jeans,” she said. “Fair is fair.”
At her bedroom door Clint shrugged out of his boots and socks. Darcy turned to help him work the belt around his waist loose. He kissed her, insistently playing his tongue against hers as he pulled the belt through the loops of his jeans. Popping the buttons on his jeans, he stripped them off, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything else, before reaching for her.
Clint got the skirt off of her just before they fell into her bed as she pushed the books and papers she’d left on it onto the floor. Darcy was able to spare one thought of I hope I didn’t hurt anything for whatever she’d just sent clattering to the floor before Clint was wrapped around her and the heavy weight of him was pressing at her entrance.
“Protection?” he asked.
“Pill,” she said.
Clint didn’t speak, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have an answer for her. The weight pressed into her, igniting her all over again. Even being so very wet, Clint’s width created a wonderful stretch and almost friction. That friction was burning her up from the inside, starting small in her center, but it was building and heating and spreading until she was ash and flame. She was and her heart was flying. She wasn’t sure she could breathe until she cried out.
Darcy was shuddering around Clint, half-whimpering when he jerked and choked out her name. He rested his head against her forehead before kissing her once more. Very carefully, he rolled off of her the two of them shuddering in the wake.
In the morning, Darcy decided that this man needed to be declared a weapon of sexual mass destruction, because her body was beyond spent - or so she thought. Even before breakfast he had her heating up and burning away all over again.
The next week was like a fog for Darcy. During the day, she went about her life as usual, but at night Clint always seemed to find his way to her. He would smile his way into her apartment and she would be in pieces before she was even able to ask him about his day. They didn’t speak about it. They didn’t tell anyone about it, at least she knew she hadn’t and as far as she knew he hadn’t told anyone either. For a month, Darcy debated just how she was going to have a conversation with Clint Barton about just what they were doing before she actually managed to say anything.
It was early in the morning; Clint was rolling out of her bed and padding towards the bathroom. She could tell that he was trying not to wake her. She steeled herself. She knew if she waited till the night, he’d smile that crooked grin at her and his fingers would find her hips and the question would burn right out of her mouth.
“Clint?” she asked with her heart in her stomach though her stomach had taken up residency in her throat. He turned back around and crawled back in the bed beside her. He didn’t get under the covers, but he was giving her that dangerous smile. If he reached for her she was done, so she blurted out her question in a rush. “What are we doing? Not that I don’t love what we’re doing, because I so totally do, I mean this is great and it is fun and, hah, it’s, um, well, you’re amazing and all. But what the hell are we doing?”
Darcy hadn’t realized that she’d closed her eyes until she opened them, still squinting, to see his reaction. He was looking rather amused. “How would you feel about me leaving stuff here?” he asked.
Darcy stared at him. “What?”
“Well, I’d like some space in the shower for soap that doesn’t smell like flowers and a drawer would be really great, too. I could keep some clothes here, if it’s okay. I promise I’ll be neat-ish,” he said, giving her a ridiculously adorable look that she couldn’t describe as anything other than as a puppy-dog face.
“Yeah,” she said, throat dry. “I can do that.”
Clint kissed her before pointing out, “Darcy, my toothbrush is here and you see me every night. When did you think I’d have time to be seeing anyone else?”
“It wasn’t so much that I thought you were seeing anyone else right now, I just…” She shrugged since she was unsure how to phrase her insecurity.
“I guess I’m not exactly a traditional, ah, boyfriend type guy,” he said.
Darcy couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Are you my boyfriend?”
“Nope,” he said. Darcy was confused and a little hurt, but then he added, “I’m not a boy and you sure as hell are not putting me in the ‘friend’ box. I,” he paused for effect, “am your man.”
Darcy laughed, she couldn’t help it. He gave her a look that she was quite sure was supposed to be stern, so she kissed him and pulled him towards her and over her. “Good,” she said, “Because I’ve been yours for a very long time.”
And Darcy did not apologize for being late to work later that morning.