AVENGERS ASSEMBLE...AND MAKEOUT
Okay, so. With all the excitement that's been building over the last week or so, there seems to be an unreasonable amount of negativity coming along with it. And that just won't do! So here's what I propose:
♥an Avengers Kissing Meme♥
( Read more... )
♥an Avengers Kissing Meme♥
( Read more... )
A soft sound at the doorway, and he pulls back to see Natasha's full lips curved in a rare smile, happy and indulgent.
"Where's mine?" she purrs, accent exaggerated for their benefit. Clint laughs and goes to her, draws her in until she's flush against his front, pressing him into the wood of the doorframe at his back. He dips his head and she leans in, and then their mouths are touching, opening for each other. She sneaks a lick along his tongue, making him gasp; he bites at those plush lips of hers, strokes the tip of his tongue over the bottom one to soothe the sting. When she pulls back, there's suspicious silence in the room. Coulson is still sitting at the table, but he's not even pretending to work; he's staring at them, a glazed look in his lovely blue eyes.
Clint loves to see him like this, as much as he loves the calm competency he displays at all other times. It's the fact that he lets the two of them see him unguarded, human, that Clint appreciates, cares for more than he should. Coulson swallows and drops his eyes, like he's not certain whether he's allowed to look; and oh, no, they can't have that.
He and Natasha move as one, prowl over to the chair; Natasha grabs Coulson by his ever-present tie, perches on the edge of the table and tugs him into a kiss, deep, messy, plenty dirty. Coulson gasps quietly, strong hand curling around her waist and dragging her closer; the smack of wet lips is loud in the silence, makes Clint grit his teeth against a moan. They are so, so fucking beautiful like this, the two of them together; he wants to debauch them until the three of them are a sweaty, sated mess tangled in the sheets.
Suddenly, Natasha's head jerks back, breaking the kiss; she twists to stare unerringly through the window, at the building across the street. Clint snaps out of his daze of lust, and he and Coulson share a look, straining to hear, to feel what Natasha's caught. It's right there, at the edge of their perception; a hum that shouldn't be present at all, an itch at the back of Clint's neck.
"Go," Coulson snaps, and Clint is racing for his bow, safely stowed away under the bed. Behind him, he hears the snap-click of a clip sliding into a gun, knows Natasha's already armed, assessing, watching both their backs as they arm themselves and prepare for a fight.
The bow is supple in his hands, the quiver a familiar, comforting weight, the arrow straight and true. He draws the string, turns to look at Natasha, waits for Coulson's sign.
All things considered, there isn't a single place in the world he would rather be.
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Okay, so, for the record, I would read A BILLION WORDS OF THIS, holy shit. *paws*
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so good...
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