5

Clint kicked open the hotel door, Natasha slung over his shoulder. He strode into the room, desperately awaiting what he knew was soon to come. He dropped his quiver beside the bed, and flung Nastasha onto the massive four-post oasis in the middle of Paris. So much killing, so much death. Finally, they both had had enough, had to get away from it all. Agents Barton and Romanoff went dark. Strike Team Delta collided.

Their dirty combat boots and blood-soaked leather seemed out of place in this five-star hotel in the middle of Paris. They were finally ready for a very special battle that had been brewing. The buzz of the adrenaline they had collected over days of conflict still clouded the edge of their vision. Within them welled up the vigor only produced by narrowly escaping death, and the desperate love of life which ensued. It had been too long it had been since it was just them together. Clint had dreamed of this moment, wishing for the chance to grab her and pull her into him with every ounce of strength he could muster, but the tension created from conflict still plagued every muscle in their bodies. This would be no love-making. This would be a conflict. This would be a fight. This would be a fucking.

He reached down, pulling his bloodied knife from his boot, and sliced her jumpsuit, right down the middle. She gasped with surprised and growled with anticipation as he tore her tattered clothes away. "You're getting me a new suit after this, right?" She taunted.

He bit into her neck in response, and she snarled—actually snarled at him— as he threw the bloodied rags into the corner. He pressed himself into her as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling at his shirt. She pushed his mouth away long enough to free him from his jacket. She began to claw at his back, feeling the rippling muscle and the fresh cuts from combat. There would be no foreplay tonight: This would be war.

He cut away her belt, not wasting their precious time with the buckle, then threw the knife across the room where it stuck into the wall, quivering, just as she was. She kicked off her boots as fast as she could as he dragged her pants down past her ankles, clawing to remove every scrap of her clothing. He assaulted her once again, went back to biting her neck. She grabbed at his hair, feeling the similarity in the movement as she'd slain a sentry in this exact manner only a few hours before, grabbing his hair to expose and slice his neck open.

"I hope you survive this," Clint growled into her ear. With a quick move, she shifted his weight, rolling him over the top of her and straddling him, now in the dominant position. He grins up at her with a twinkle in his eye, "I do love fucking a fighter," he said.

She leans down to be level with his ear and responds in a whisper: "I hope you survive." She grins, her tousled red hair hanging down around her now exposed alabaster skin. She begins to pull at his belt, quickly pulling his pants down around his ankles as she shimmies down his body. Refusing to be patient, she grabs a knife from the growing pile of clothes and weapons and cuts through the laces of his combat boots. She throws the boots so hard across the room that they fly over the balcony into the Paris streets below. The pair are a mass of tension, energy, adrenaline created by hard fighting and close calls. She, too, throws the knife across the room, and it lands squarely on the hilt of his, both knives shaking with the force.

"That should probably say something about the night to come," says Clint with a wink. Without hesitation she takes him into her mouth, as fast and as deep as she can go. He grabs a handful of her blood-red hair, every muscle in their bodies hardened, tensed, prepared for a fight. He pulls her up by her shoulders, and rolls over on top of her. He kisses her. Clint kisses her like he means to hurt her, and he forces a finger between her legs.

There's no time for foreplay: The battle has begun. Natasha scratches at his back, her breath coming heavily now. "I've missed you so much," she says, "I want you inside me. Goddammit, I want you inside me." He loves when she gets this way.

He leans down and whispers into her ear, "I brought you something special."

She looks at him with an inquisitive gaze. Excitement leaks into her voice as she asks, "What do you mean?"

"Just a special tip for my arrow," he says with a goofy grin. She rolls her eyes, even though she finds the dorky humor irresistible. From the pocket of the jacket on the floor, he pulls a vibrating ring and slides it slowly down his cock. She wonders at it, biting her lip with anticipation. He reaches down, stroking her. She's already dripping. With both of them lying on the pillows, he pulls her legs around his waist, reaches down, and flips the switch, as a soft buzzing begins. He slowly slides inside her, just the way she likes it. Her body can't help it, she lets out a moan.

This is the fight she's been dying for. Actually, trying not to die for. He wastes no time, biting her earlobe he quickly begins to press against her faster and faster. There will be no buildup tonight, the tension of days of fighting is now being thrown against a different opponent. Her sighing quickly becomes screaming as he thrusts into her harder, faster. He rolls his hips, pressing the ring against her clit. She's already near insanity. He reaches down, pulls her legs over his shoulder, pressing deeper. He fucks her harder and harder, there's no time to waste. He checks the clock on the bedside table. "Midnight. Let's see if we can keep this up 'till the sun peeks over the horizon."

He goes at her as fast as he can, every muscle in his body tensed. She's already near her breaking point. Harder and harder, she can't hold it any longer. She lets out a cry, he feels her body relax, and with a smile she says "One."

He hears the challenge in her voice, and accepts. Tonight he's going for the record. Just how many times can he peel her apart? He never misses a beat, continuing to throw all of his weight into her pussy. Defenseless she lies on her back, her knees pulled almost to her shoulders. He blows softly into her ear, as the combination of force and the vibrating ring destroy her once more. Softly she whispers, "Two."

He reaches down, flipping the switch again, changing the cadence of her new favorite toy. He releases on leg, letting it lay against the bed, changing the angle of her hips as he continues his quest for total annihilation. He starts perspiring, every muscle in his body hard and glistening. Natasha looks up at him in a daze, he's biting down on his lip with strain, and yet he just keeps going. Harder and faster till it seems near inhuman, but in rapid succession she reaches three, four, and five. Already, Nat is in a daze, out of breath, Clint pulls her up, dragging her off the bed, setting her feet on the floor, spinning her around, and bending her over. Without a moment's hesitation, he presses into her from behind. He reaches down, wrapping her bright red hair in his hand, and dragging her head. At this point, pain and ecstasy swirl around Natasha in a haze. He just won't stop, driving into her harder and harder, the ring ever continuing its wonderful work. She can't muffle her cries, but the blood is pumping so hard in her ears that she can't hear them anyway.

"S-six," Tasha stammers, "You got me," but Clint never lets up, not even for a moment's respite. Harder and harder he fucks her. Now he's dripping sweat, breathing heavily, but he never slows, never falters, each time throwing himself into her as far as his body will allow. He feels her knees begin to weaken and shake. Finally with a cry, she falls against the bed. Something warm trickles down the inside of her thigh, being unable to contain it any longer, she comes, squirting, onto the carpeting. "Seven," says Clint with a smile. "Now it's your turn."

He jumps onto the bed and tugs the assassin's still-quivering body on top of him.

Not wanting to be outdone, Natasha quickly goes to work, clawing at his chest, red hair now sticking to her face. Her hips move as fast as they can go, with the sensation of the ring seemingly moving up her entire body. Before she knows it, she trembles, and breathlessly says "Eight. How can you do this?"

"Just keep going," he says with a haughty look and a wink. Back to work she goes. He reaches down and once again changes the cadence of the ring that's driving Natasha so crazy. She shudders with the new sensation, and continues throwing her body onto his, as fast as she can, every muscle burning. Before she knows it, nine and ten have come and gone, and the clock strikes 0200 hours over Paris.

"How the hell," she says with a gasp, rolling off of him and onto the bed.

"What can I say?" Clint smirks. "I'm gifted." He rolls her onto her side, pressing himself behind her, running his hand up the inside of her thigh, feeling the wetness there. He reaches down and guides her hand between her legs. She take him in her hand, guiding him inside. With one hand he raises her leg; the other he slides beneath her head. He begins to push himself farther inside of her. Once again, he guides her hand down between her legs, and she begins to stroke her at clit, always feeling those beautiful vibrations of the ring around his cock. She doesn't think it's possible, but before she realizes, she cums for an eleventh time. "You got me," she stammers, tapping his leg, but he never stops, never even slows. He only reaches down, and once again, changes the speed of their special toy. A few minutes pass, and with a scream, her muscles turned to jelly. Her eyes flutter, and roll into the back of her skull.

"I guess that's 12," he says with a chuckle. He won't even give her time to rest, rolling her onto her stomach, pushing her legs together, straddling her, and taking her from behind. She lets out a short, soft moan. "Well, this one's new," she sighs, and purrs out: "I think I like it." He lays his hands on her arched back, and again goes to work as she presses herself into him. The sweat rolls down his face. He feels as if he's fighting for his life, but at this point nothing can stop him. She spasms, and for a 13th time that night, she orgasms. She's barely conscious at this point, and all she feels is bliss, but he never stops, he just keeps going at reaches down to change the cadence once more. She squirms at the new sensation. With every ounce of energy he has, he throws himself against her, and as the clock resounds at 0300, her body lets go for a 14th time. At this point, she screams in ecstasy, each orgasm having built upon the last. "How is this even possible?" She asks with a shaky voice. "How can anyone do this?"

"I guess I'm just special," Clint smiles, a feeling of almost godlike power welling up inside of him. "Now it's time for something special."

In her haze of euphoria, Nat can't possibly imagine what else he has in store. He steps off the bed and rolls her onto her back. He pulls her legs up over his shoulders, and slides his cock into her quivering pussy. He tells her to wrap her arms around his neck, and she complies. "Hold on tight," he says, and she nods, slightly confused, but in a flash she is ripped from the bed, and she is suspended in the air, her legs and arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the force of gravity pressing every inch of him inside of her. Using every ounce of his strength, he rocks her in a curling motion, up and down on top of him. With every thrust she gasps. He's never been so far inside of her; she's never felt so much power in a man. He glistens with exertion, his hair matted to his face. With more and more force, he seems to almost throw her into the air and catch her on his cock. She can't help but gasp ever time she falls against him, her gasps slowly build to screams. Before long, every muscle in her body releases as a wave of ecstasy passes over her. "Fifteen," he says with a dirty grin, and she nods as she can barely speak. She doesn't know it, but she's squirted all over him. She thinks he will set her down, but after a moment's reprieve, he begins again, a renewed vigor in his thrusts. At this point, her mind can't form coherent thoughts. She only has the vaguest idea of the impossibility of the phenomenon that she's experiencing.

He slides his hand down her hip long just long enough to change the cadence of the ring, the new sensation snapping her out of her trance. She feels as if he's inside her stomach. Harder and faster, he throws her down on top of him. And with the greatest scream to ever escape her lips, she cums for a sixteenth time. Her body convulses, her eyes roll to the back of her head, and he sets her back down onto the mattress softly.

The entire room is soaked, both dripping with sweat. "We better clean up before we go find food," he says with a wink, and taking her hand, he tugs her towards the shower. He flips on the water, caressing her nipple and kissing her gently as the water warms. He throws back the curtain and they step inside, the warm water beginning to wash away the caked-on sweat.

"Do you want me to cum for you, baby?" He asks Natasha.

"God, yes," she says. "I'm not sure I can take much more."

"Just a little more, baby," he says, turning her around and placing her hands on the shower wall. As the water washes over both of them, he fucks her with every ounce of energy he has left. The smacking of their water-soaked skin grows louder. Her arms can barely hold her up, and she feels herself being pushed farther and father to the wall as he thrusts with every muscle in his body. "I'm almost there," he cries, and she is, too. With a scream, her legs buckle, she drops to one knee on the shower floor.

Her grasps her hair, turns her around, and with a cry, cums into her opened mouth, onto her outstretched tongue, and across her beautiful face. With a finger, she catches the saltiness dripping off her chin and licks it away. He's breathing heavily, barely able to stand. The battery on the ring has finally died, and it is cast aside, tossed carelessly over the shower curtain. "Well, that was fun," he says with a sideways grin, still trying to catch his breath.

"I'm not entirely sure you're human," she grins as she takes his outstretched hand to pull herself up. She washes the cum from her body and then softly, tenderly embrace him.

"I love you to the moon and back, Natasha," he says, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"And you just gave me seventeen reasons why I love you even more," she replied with a smile, a dazed look of adoration taking over her features.