undeadgirlwalking | [PSL] Ana and Hawkeye

Entry tags:

[ana&clint],
[psl]

[PSL] Ana and Hawkeye

Who: Ana Adams, Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
What: Some TLC post a rough night.
When: Post a mission that was rougher than it should've been.
Where: Ana's apartment above Adams' Books.

***

He said he was coming... And he was late. Anan didn't know nearly enough about Clint's life to know exactly where he was, but she'd observed enough to guess. He fought, he killed, undoubtably for an organisation that would rather stay secret. That was fine, she had secrets enough on her own.

He wouldn't be a part of it if he wasn't skilled... Didn't stop her from worrying. Nursing a cold drink in the kitchen, wearing little more than a shirt that he'd left behind, she restrained the urge to send a shade to look for him.

He'll be fine. Clint would be fine.

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Ana gave him a grin, a little shy but warm. It was always a good thing to see that smile of his, something honest. She shifted to stand over one of of his legs, straddling without touching.

"A very good thing, Mr Barton." She said and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Because underneath this... I'm just wearing some very nice underwear."

Unexpected, but welcomed. Emboldened by her shift in tone and position, he put a hand on her hip. With a moment's hesitation, he turned his head toward her.

"You're coming on to me, Ana?"

Maybe he'd thought about it, maybe he'd entertained the idea, but he'd never act on it. He'd never even kissed her, let alone attempted to touch her. Things just took a turn for the interesting.

Her eyes close at the simple touch on her hand. That was nice, Clint. Keep doing that.

Opening them again she gave him a look of coy surprise.

"Now, Mr Barton why would I ever do a thing like that?"

A moment later the expression shifted to something almost challenging.

His fingers curled around the curve of her hip.

"I was hoping you'd tell me." Preferably with more of what she was already doing, maybe something extra, maybe just going ahead and--

One eyebrow curved upward, and he fixed his sharp gaze on her lips.

Mmm very good, Clint. More of that please.

"I have my reasons." She said leaning forward catching his gaze and giving a slight smile.

She sank down to straddle his leg and moved her her to brush over his jaw.

"They're very good reasons." She breathed and pressed her lips to his.

Once their lips met, he decided he liked her reasons. The kiss was slow, sweet in its own way, and almost uncomfortable for Clint. How long had it been since he'd done anything like this? Being a SHIELD agent was more than a full-time job. Romance or anything associated with it wasn't going to happen.

But now, here he was, a beautiful young lady on his lap and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Instinct and the beginnings of intense desire led him to pull her a bit closer.

Ana was nervous as hell, but he was kisisng her back, pulling her close. It was enough to settle her nerves. She shifted, not breaking the kiss, lifting herself to strtaddle his lap, keeping just enough distance between them to keep things... Tame. For now.

Ana deepend the kiss, head tilting as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her finger tips playing along the back of his neck.

Tame was good, tame was fine. The closeness was somehow enjoyable for the loner, and he suspected, perhaps, that he'd gone solo for too long. The stress built up in his stomach, the grown-up and too-serious version of butterflies that more closely resembled a knot, but the tension started to melt out of his body as he lazily looped his arms around her lower back.

He knew he should leave. He knew he should walk away. He just didn't want to. The way he returned her kiss grew a little bolder, as if to announce that he wasn't going anywhere.

She felt warm, heat rising to give her pale face some flushed colour and she felt relaxed smiling into the kiss.

He wasn't leaving. This was good, Ana wasn't sure what she would have done if her left now. Her fingers trailed up into his hair, her other hand playing lazily over his shoulder, content now to just touch. It'd been while, a long while, since she'd kissed and been kissed.

He pressed his fingers against the cloth of the shirt, rubbing his thumbs in small arcs across her back. Though he felt too warm for the clothes he was wearing, he didn't complain. It was a much more simple matter of indulging in her touches and enjoying the intimacy of the fleeting moment they were sharing.

Inching his hands lower, he moved to work the tail of the shirt out from underneath her.

She made a soft sound, a small approving hum as she pressed into his hands. The mostion brushes her chest against his and her hand follow to trace his collar bone and come to a rest over his heart. It was pounding, almost as heart as hers.

Ana lifted a little to ease his explorations. She wanted him to touch her skin.

Once she moved, it was easy for him to pull the cloth away. Careful not to risk anything too untoward, he settled his hands on the back of her waist for a moment. Her soft, warm skin under his fingers made him sigh into the kiss, and he paused for a moment to simply breathe.

"Hey."

His lips found their way to her neck, working around toward her throat with light kisses.

Ana made a pleased little sound, his hands were delightlfully warm against her skin and the touch alone sent little sparks down her spine.

"Hey yourself." She breathed back and gasped as he moved his attentions to her neck. Lips curving into a smile, Ana hummed as her fingers kneaded against his scalp.

"You can call me Clint. 'Mr. Barton' loses its shine at this point."

He spread his fingers out over her skin as he skimmed his lips over the hollow of her throat, and continued further down. Her fingers in his hair were something new, something he discovered, then and there, that he liked very much.

"No worries, Clint." she said and pressed her lips to his cheek before letting her head fall back, giving him free reign over her throat.

To keep her balance, Ana edges closer, the hand on his chest gripping and pulling at his shirt while the other continued playing with his hair. She could barely hold herself still, the desire to press into him almost too hard to fight.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away from her back. They rested low on her waist for a moment before he made the bold move he'd planned. Fingers enveloped on of the buttons on the shirt she wore, and he carefully pressed it through the buttonhole, pulling the shirt slightly more open. His lips followed the exposed skin downward.

"Should I stop?"

Biting her lip, Ana looked down to watch him kiss his way down. Her grip on his hair has he passed over senstive skin and when she spoke, her voice was higher than it usual.

"No. No stopping." Any lower and he'd find that her bra clasped in the front. That could be interesting.

He glanced up at her as he unfastened the rest of the buttons on her shirt, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. Then, slowly, he went back to pressing lazy, indulgent kissed to the skin of her chest and neck.

Questioning everything seemed prudent, triple checking with himself to be sure he was doing the right thing. Getting involved...

Even for a one-night stand, it was dangerous.

She's watching his hands, the colour on her cheeks growing deeper. She leaned into his kisses, one hand stroking his face while the other gently dragged down his back, nails catching on the fabric of his shirt.

He was driving her insane, soft confident touches making her feel light she was slowly being drawn taught like a guitar string. Or a bow string.

The thought makes her giggle.

"I thought I was the one seducing you?"

"I'm already there," he answered, voice lowered. Still, if she wanted to do the work, he'd let her. He rested against the back of the chair again, his hands settling idly on her thighs. A beautiful woman trying to seduce him was nothing to complain about in the least, especially if she was insisting on drawing it out.

With his blood pumping so loudly, it was hard to even think. If she wanted to take over, he'd let her.

Ana shivers and watches him pull back. She bites her lip, looking him over and for a moment she's frozen by uncertainty. What to do?

Her head tilting as she takes in the way his shirt sits on his chest, Ana runs her hands over and down, feeling their way over cloth covered muscle.
She leans forward, back curving and flicks her deep blue gaze up to his. Ana's hands creep beneath his shirt and move up, her cool hands learning their way up his torso, muscle and scars all.

Her fingers don't linger as they explore with gentle touches and the occasional drag of blunt nails and Ana leans over him, mouth seeking his.

When she bit her lip, he could feel the electricity, feel the warmth of desire and arousal winding their way down his spine. Her hands were starting to slowly drive him mad, her fingers on his skin, finding every mark of his life with her delicate touch. Kissing her was suddenly a necessity, something he wasn't going to stop doing until he really felt satisfied, but he could hold back.

And hold back, he did. His fingers kneaded at the skin of her thighs, sliding inward slightly more with every passing moment, but he didn't let himself take any huge steps. She was in control, and he liked that enough to let it stand.

Ana nips at his lower lip, fingers pressing into his skin. Ana moves her lips from his mouth to his jaw, flirting briefly with his cheek before dipping down to the side of his neck. She does her best to leave no marks though a part oof her badly wants to.

Ana settles for tiny delicate grazings of teeth as she works her way down to the curve where neck met shoulder.

She tuggs at the shirt, a silent command. She wants it off, she wants to see, to press herself against his skin and feel his heat.

He'd never hear the end of it if he showed up at HQ with marks all over his skin, so he was glad she was being moderate. Tipping his head back, he let her explore, unable to hold back a low noise of approval when she finds a particularly sensitive spot on the side of his neck. Where her lips explored, he wanted to explore, too. He wanted his hands in her hair and on her body in places he'd only thought about idly before.

His notion to touch her a little more intimately was interrupted by the tugging at his shirt. Obliging, he removed the offending cloth, seeking her eyes again as he tossed it onto the floor. Marks and scars peppered his lean, toned muscles, and the curve of his shoulders was a clear indication of his vocation. Could she tell from this that he was a soldier, a killer, anything more than a sportsman archer?

Not that he cared, really, as he settled his hands at her waist and began moving them higher.

Ana memorises what makes him tense and what makes him moan for hopeful use in the future. She turns her attentions to the other side of his nextm tasting skin and humming at the feel of his pulse under her tongue.

When she finally got the shirt off she took a moment to simply look at him, gaze lingering on his shoulders. She'd always known that he was a warrior, it was not something one took off at the end of the day like a shirt. She liked it, that he fought and more than that she liked his shoulders, they were good. Meeting his gaze, Ana gave him a small knowing smile and returned her mouth to his lips, fingers playing boldly over his chest.

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