Clint knows that if she wants to, Natasha can break free of the grip he has around her wrists. She doesn't want to though. She wants him to be in control of her. "I'm going to get a tie," he says, voice low in her ear, "and then I'm going to tie your hands to the bedframe. I would hold them myself, but I have better things to do with my hands."

He kisses her once more before pulling away and walking over to the dresser to get one of his loathed ties. Maybe now he'll start liking them more since he's [found a better use for them. Climbing back onto the bed, Clint takes her wrists in his hands again. He stretches them up and then fastens them to the headboard. It's nothing that she can't escape from, but Clint is pretty sure she doesn't want to.

Leaning down, he sucks a mark into her collarbone, draws his hands down her body. "You look so fucking good, babe."