It's funny. In Natasha's mind no matter how often they fall apart and come back together, it's the same. Maybe sometimes the feeling is different and they both come at it from varying directions and for a wide variety of reasons, but they really don't miss a beat. He will always know her, and she him. As soon as she gave him permission to her body, he had full access and nothing was different-- yet she will always appreciate how he cares, and is cautious after a time.

"Jesus. Clint. So fucking big." She moans and bites her lip, hard when he fills her completely. It's nice enough that he can slide himself exactly right along that spot whenever he pushes in and now and then on the way out. With her eyes closed, she rises up to meet him, and rolls against his body. It's not that she's itching to get him off as fast as possible, but she does want him to feel how amazing she's made her feel.

Still, at the same time, she's got another orgasm building and her breathing begins to sound on little moans, higher and louder until he's got her right at the edge, and then she's rolling right over again-- every muscle tightening around him, squeezing him tight within her as she's begging his name and offering it up in prayer with nails that claw down his back, and leave lines of red in their wake.