Natasha likes a lot of things. There are days she longs to make simple love to Clint, with only his body over hers, the weight of him pressing in over and over-- there are days where she loves to ride on top and look down at the gorgeous man that she's so totally in love with, and then there are the days she needs to feel alive, to remind herself that she's a survivor of the holy wars she's fought so far in her life, and pain does that for her, sensory deprevation, bondage, letting go in various ways with this man she's learned to trust does that for her.

Feeling the ache that starts low and deep and begins to circulate through her inner walls is different and new -- she doesn't have a word for how it feels, but she knows that she likes it. It's going to be a thing that she will certainly consider for the future when they're having sex again. When he touches her clit again she cries out and starts to go quiet until he clamps down around her breast.

"Oh fuck, Clint-- " It turns into a louder moan, on a whine buried at the back of her throat when he enters her. Her fingers scramble for purchase at his back. She treks her nails in long lines down his muscles and across the beautiful examples of shoulders. Drawing them around to his chest, she grips his shoulders and begins to rock up into him immediately, needing him deeper. The vibrations from her ass already making her crave more than she would with a slow normal build up. It's like he's already there inside her somehow, but she desperately craves so much more of him.