The Avengers: Clint's Little Girl

She drank. She blamed herself anyway.

***

She called Clint.

"You said it was because you didn't want to hurt her."

"I know how stupid it sounds." It sounded like he'd been drinking too. One of the watering holes that he wallowed in more than went to, when a mission was especially bad, when he missed or when he didn't miss.

"I understand. You didn't want to hurt her. Reject her. You saw how vulnerable she was..."

The sound on his end clipped like he'd muffled a hand around the mouthpiece. "Laura, no..."

"I'm not saying you took advantage of her. If I thought any of it was for your own gratification, I'd be gone. Do you hear me, Clint? I'd be gone."

"I know. That's the only reason I can think that... that you're even talking to me."

Thank God it was over the phone. Thank God she didn't have to look at him and she didn't have to take him looking at her. "It's my fault. I let it happen. She's never been like this before, I knew, I saw, when she came here this time, it was different..."

"Laura..."

"She needed something more. And how is she going to ask for it? She's a child soldier. An assassin, a seductress—of course she's going to seduce you. That's the only path she has to take..."

"Doesn't mean I had to go along..."

"You wanted to give her what she needed, same as I did. Do. She's the only one who doesn't know. Can't talk about what she wants or needs..."

"It's not her fault."

"That's what I said—"

"You said it was your fault. S'not."

"Maybe it's nobody's fault." Laura laughed harshly. "We know what she needs, don't we? And if she's our friend, your partner... do you still want her? And don't you dare lie because you think—"

"I want her to be happy." Clint sounded bleary. Almost crying. "Oh, God, she seemed so happy when it was happening. She didn't look beautiful to me, she just looked happy..."

"She got what she needed," Laura said, almost totally emotionless until she felt the smile tug at her lips. God help her, she was happy for the Black Widow. "She needed to be loved."

***

Half a bottle of wine gone, but Laura didn't feel drunk. She just feel loose. As unanchored as she had since Clint had told her he'd been with another woman. Even if it was Nat.

Fuck, there was another woman. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else until kids, this was still supposed to be just them. Clint and Laura against the world. Only Natasha was the one he was actually going out and fighting alongside. And she'd done a damn good job of it. Protected him. Saved him. Kept him as safe as he kept Laura.

So she could say fuck Fury, fuck the job, and she did mostly out of habit, but Natasha? No, not Natasha. Because she'd always been the other woman. It was just that before they had shared Clint and now Nat was taking more. Or Laura was taking more, trying to make him a husband, a father, and Natasha was trying to hold on to what she'd always had.

It would be so much fucking simpler if Clint had just wanted to screw her. Then at least she could be angry. Angry wasn't numb. Wasn't half-worried about how Natasha was doing, like she owed something to her man's mistress, fuck, shit...

She went to Natasha's room. Natasha had been crying, sleeping, sheets tousled enough for it to be either. Staying with them had let her be more vulnerable; now Laura could see the hit she'd taken.

"I'm sorry," she said, grinding her hands on the pillow she hugged to her chest. "I'm so, so sorry..."

"I know you are," Laura said as Natasha's words broke off into the chattering, unvoiced sobs of someone with no experience at crying. It rose and fell in her like bile.

Laura walked over to the bed, sat down at its foot, and Natasha shrank away from her. Laura couldn't have known how much it would hurt, being seen as another hand holding a whip.

"I know Clint. He's the man I'm going to marry. And he wouldn't have anything to do with a woman unless he really cared for her."

Natasha shook her head, desperately, as if she were trying to throw it clear of her body. "It's not that, it isn't, I would never take him away from you. He just had. It's just. There was something I needed. And he was there. I just needed it. I was trained not to need anything and suddenly..."

"You never had a father, did you?" Laura reached down to Natasha's knee, gripping it through the covers. "Or a mother. Or a family. You've had lovers, but no one who really... really mattered, right?"

Natasha bit her lip, ducked her head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Nat? Nat?" Laura's hand moved to Natasha's chin, holding it up, having Natasha at least have to know Laura was looking at her, if not meet her eyes. "It's okay for all that to get mixed up. To want everything you need from one person... or two."

"He's yours. He's yours and I didn't have the right—"

"He's not mine. Clint belongs to Clint. We're partners. Just like you and he are."

Natasha gritted her teeth, so hard that Laura didn't know how they didn't break. "I don't know what's happening to me! I don't even know if I like it! It's what I wanted, but... something's wrong with me. Something must be wrong with me..."

Even if Natasha was straitjacketed by her training, if she would physically not let herself cry, the strain was every bit as evident. Sweat broke out across her forehead. Laura reached out to wipe it away and though Natasha could've done it, could've gone untouched, she closed her eyes and savored the feel of Laura's hand on her. Touching her anywhere Laura wanted to touch.

"Nothing's wrong with you," Laura said. "You're just a little different. You want what everyone wants, you need what everyone else needs—you just ask for it in a different way. Nat... would you like it if I touched you?"

"Yes," Natasha admitted, choking, gagging on the word. Then she was nearly hysterical: "But I don't, I don't—"

"Shhh." Laura smiled at her reassuringly. She got up and sat down beside Natasha, leaning against the headboard, and Natasha let Laura lift her head and rest it on her lap. Natasha could smell everything that went into the woman: the lye of the soap and the vanilla body wash and a dash of faded rosewater perfume and curdled sweat, a little acrid and a little sweet, the way a woman should smell.

She'd been this close to women before, touched women before, but this time she wanted it, without orders, without a goal, she just wanted to be touching Laura...

"мамуля..." She knew it was wrong, it had to be wrong—why couldn't it feel wrong? "мамуля..."

She seemed to wait a long time, waiting for that simple feeling to turn dark or suspicious, but it stubbornly refused to. This peace she'd been granted refused to be denied, not by her mistrust, her cynicism, her tradecraft—anything.

Laura held her. Kept holding her and petting her hair and scratching her back as her body at first refused to relax—her heart raced and her blood pounded, demanding that this be a trap, but Laura wouldn't be intimidated by her anxiety. She just waited until Natasha's sense of calm won out over everything else in her life.

Natasha might've fallen asleep... or it was just that she was so used to the hectic pace of her mind, thinking and rethinking and scrutinizing and theorizing, that the balm of being thoughtless passed by her in a blur... but she didn't hear the door open, didn't hear Clint's footsteps, didn't hear anything but sensed the taut alertness she knew meant his hackles were up, the psychic alarm of his that could fill a room when their lives were at risk. She was so attuned to it, she thought she could've felt it on the other side of the world. She felt it now.

But she kept her eyes closed, her head down and in Laura's soothing hands, as she heard Laura speak.

"It's alright, Clint. It's alright."

"What is this? Are you punishing me?"

"I'm not punishing anyone," Laura insisted. "I can't... crowbar her away from you. And I wouldn't want to do that to her, or to you. Or to me. I knew from the beginning that this wasn't going to be a normal marriage, but we promised to do whatever it took to make it work. Maybe it only works with Nat."

"She's not who I love."

"Yes she is. And so am I. Look at her, Clint. Don't you want her to sleep like this every night?"

"Not if it means losing you—"

"It doesn't. I love her too. I want to take care of her just as much as you do, I feel the exact same way you do. I'm looking at you and you're a mirror, Clint. You're not sure, you don't know—I'm not sure! I don't know! But this is what I want. What we all want. Isn't it, Nat?"

Natasha kept her eyes closed. She couldn't open them, wouldn't. Not if she had to see them angry with her, fucked up because of her. She could take anything but that.

"Please, Батя... come to bed?"

All her senses and she could still barely hear Clint take his shoes off, his belt whisper through its loops, him lying down on top of the covers and behind her and pressing to her back and his hand, his hand reaching over her and taking Laura's hand, the pair coming down and resting on her body as she laid there, Clint over her and Laura underneath her, and the safeness just pooled inside her. A real thing, a physical thing, she could feel herself being anchored here and covered here and protected here. And it wasn't Clint's skin against her skin, Laura's warmth with her warmth, but it was enough for now. It was so much, she didn't know how she slept. But she did.

***

The Sunday morning sunlight—always seeming so much brighter than any other day—came in through the window of Natasha's bedroom. She turned lazily under the covers and her elbows poked against a body to her left. She turned again and felt her this pressing snugly against a body to her right.

Now she remembered. She was in bed with Clint and Natasha. Her Батя and her мамуля.

Blinking her eyes open, Natasha looked straight into the sleeping face of Clint. His handsome mouth was parted slightly, showing a flash of white teeth, and his face was blank with composure. He looked strong and stoic and protective... and, turning her head, there was Laura. So concerned, so caring, so giving.

Natasha knew what men wanted, what everyone wanted. Strength and give in precise measure. She'd had to supply that herself on many occasions, carefully calibrated to each individual. Maybe she just needed more of both than most people. Clint's strength, Laura's differing kind of strength. The compromise and the grounding and Clint's husky, hairy body with Laura's slender, reedy one. All of them cuddled from one side of the small bed to the other.

"Are you awake, Nat?" Laura whispered softly.

"Yes," Natasha grinned just to do it. She felt like grinning. It was euphoric and airy and lightheaded, this waking up without worry or precaution, and it hit her like a drug. She actually felt giggly, the real thing, not the pantomime she did for men who liked empty-headed bimbos. Now she understood the appeal. Who wouldn't want to be with someone who felt this way?

Who wouldn't want to be allowed to feel this way?

"Daddy's still asleep," Natasha said. She grinned into Laura's angelic face, feeling the warmth of her body so differently from Clint's. He was a furnace radiating heat, fierce but muffled, while Laura was like a campfire that'd just been doused, the ashes smoldering. The heat seemed to be fading, but really, it could flare up again at any time.

Natasha shivered with a small excitement as her мамуля's fingers stole secretly up over her bare thigh.

"What are you doing?" Natasha managed, fighting down the oddly twitching thrill goosebumping her legs.

"You and Clint." Laura's voice came in a breathy whisper. "You're both so cautious. The only thing you risk is your lives. This has had all night to blow up in our faces and it didn't. It's time to enjoy it."

Natasha smiled. "Are you seducing the Black Widow?"

Laura's furtive little fingers snaked a few more inches over Natasha's trembling thigh, moving suggestively close to the soft center between her legs. "Do I have to?"

Natasha glanced again to see if Clint was still asleep, and then she willingly opened her legs to allow Laura to do anything she wanted to. She knew Laura would make her feel good. That was the only way she could feel around her мамуля.

Laura's nimble fingers drifted softly down over Natasha's gently receptive cunt, moving the copper hairs back and forth.

"Play with me, too," Laura whispered, her loving voice husky with need. This is how she talks to Батя, Natasha realized.

She found the other woman's aroused sex with her hand and cupped the moist flesh in her palm. She knew a thousand ways to please a woman, to tantalize her, to make her do anything Natasha wanted, but all of that fled Natasha along the paths of her jittering nerves. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to touch a woman as special as this.

"MMmmmm," Laura breathed, "rub it for me?"

Natasha moved her hand gently back and forth over the labia, feeling the hotness seep up into her palm like steam. Laura liked it. She could feel her liking it. It was so... gratifying to have her like it. If Natasha could've laid there forever and just stared at Laura, her lips parting in silent moans, her nostrils flaring with fiercely needed breath, shaky little smiles twitching on her mouth as she clenched so very hard... she would've.

When the urgent throbs began to pass through Laura's twitchy little cunt, Natasha whispered again to her. "What do you want to do, wake up Батя?"

"No—not yet. We'll have fun with him later."

"What, then?"

"I'll show you!"

To Natasha's astonished delight, Laura suddenly submerged her head under the covers and kissed Natasha's quivering belly. She didn't even care about the scar there—there was a momentary pause of confusion, then she kissed that too. The hot breath and gently puckered lips made Natasha's sex bloom open, and her clitoris began to demand attention. Natasha's well-disciplined body was in uprising. All of it was fighting to be touched.

With a fond sigh for the novelty of this new experience, Natasha opened her legs wider as Laura's head moved lower down to the trench between her thighs.

Natasha jerked slightly as the snaking little tongue began to softly lick just on the barely parted lips of her cunt. The unexpected feeling of warmth and wetness, right where she was most sensitive, made Natasha's slit itch and burn with pleasure, and she lifted her hips a little to show Laura that she liked having being played with that way.

Laura moved her fingertips to the sides of the opening and spread the Venus mount wider apart, sticking her welcome tongue a few inches inside.

Natasha closed her eyes, her cheeks burning with lewd enjoyment, as the nimble little tongue dipped in and out of her, until it seemed like her cunt was pulsing with the strokes of that tongue, throbbing to the rhythm it set.

"Hey," a sardonic male voice grumbled sleepily beside her. "Do you know what time it is?"

Natasha opened her eyes and grinned dreamily at her Батя. He was leaning up on one elbow in the bed, and his eyes were watching Laura's head moving up and down under the covers.

Clint's mouth twitched in a curious, amused smile. "Been a while since I've gotten her to do that," he breathed. "Mind if I watch?"

Natasha grinned. "You can always look at me."

He crawled out of bed and pulled back the cover, revealing Laura on her knees with her ass pushed high in the air as she stroked her tongue voluptuously into Natasha's juicy slit.

"Oh, wow," he whispered.

When Natasha saw that he didn't mind what his fiancé was doing without him, she relaxed and lifted her legs up to form a real trough for Laura. Her nipples began to harden as the pleasure increased, and her labia stretched wider apart to allow the driving tongue a better taste.

Clint stood for a few minutes at the foot of the bed, watching the unbelievable spectacle—his fiancé and his mistress, fucking each other. And as he watched, his rogue prick began to rise in all its glory and kept rising until it stood stiffly out from the dark bush of pubic hair.

The room was filled with nothing but his deep breathing and their wetness, the liquefied tattoo of Laura's hungry tongue moving wetly in and out of Natasha's pussy.

At last, Clint's rising lust wouldn't let him stop at watching.

Moving heavily on his bare feet, he positioned himself right behind Laura's lifted, rosy buttocks. Then he bent down low, as if he were going to smell a pretty rose. He put his nostrils almost against the deeper, headier aroma of her warm young pussy and sniffed.

Her cunt was as pungent as honeyed peppermint.

With a low groan, he rolled his larger, firmer tongue out and began to lap obscenely into Laura's sex. Her pussy throbbed against his touches, and began to gift warm, salty juices against his tongue.

For the next ten minutes the contest ran. Natasha's breathing grew ragged as the fun increased, and several times her inner muscles convulsed hard over the pointed, sluicing tongue which was drawing deeper and hotter pleasures from her core.

"MMMMmmmmm," Natasha sighed, moving her scalded thighs in a slow circle as Laura's insistent mouth worked on her better and better.

Laura's own pussy was responding to the pumping tongue inside of it, surrendering softly and wetly to every lustful trick that was played on it.

The closer Natasha grew to realizing a climax, the tighter and hotter Laura's twitching little passage grew. To speed her to the obvious, Clint located her needful clitoris with the tip of his tongue and began to strum it.

Laura moaned as her mouth dug like a shovel into Natasha's dripping heat.

With both girls having their pussies so deliciously massaged, it only took a few more shimmering seconds before they began to squirm with a series of lovely spasms. Natasha came first, her explosive cunt throbbing around Laura's sucking mouth as a flood of her juices spritzed hotly forward.

Laura lapped the creamy brew and pushed her own pussy lustfully back against the long male tongue eating it like candy. In a kind of one-two-three count, her cunt clenched inwardly, then relaxed with a trickling flow of girlish pleasure.

Feeling his fiancé's sex vibrating against his tongue turned Clint on like a fire engine, and his already stiff prick jerked between his legs like a bar of white-hot tempered steel.

With their pussies both sucked to the final fluttering thrill, the women slumped together, tangling their pretty little legs and thighs together like smoking valentines. That was the final straw in giving Clint a hard-on that wasn't going to be denied.

He used his firmly muscled arms to rearrange the delectable duo on the bed almost effortlessly, placing them so that their legs were draped picturesquely over the side of the mattress and open just enough to make their slackly stretched, wetly trembling cunts available for his use.

Stroking his long and frightfully stiffened prick a time or two with one hand, Clint came between the thighs of his partner and rammed his cock home.

"Батя! Yes, yes, I've been a good girl, Батя! Fuck your good girl!"

The hard column rode roughly up between the succulent lips of Natasha's pussy, pushing the folds back until the cunt hairs stood out like cat's whiskers. He fucked her stubbornly for a few minutes, pumping his naked buttocks back and forth as the muscles in his legs tensed like cords. The well-lubricated cunt between Natasha's limply hanging legs absorbed every demanding inch he gave it, and as his large cockhead rode rudely out, the entire length of his prick glistened with her dripping arousal.

Then he moved lecherously over Laura's even more ready body, forcing his cock to ride roughshod all the way up her quivering little cunt. He fucked Laura until she was moaning softly, her hands up on his chest as if to hold him back from fucking her even harder, even as she cried and begged for more.