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When she walked in, a bit bruised and singed but also on top of the world, she assumed that Clint, well Agent Barton, she supposed as he was still the boss of her, was calling her in to the impromptu field office to congratulate her.
It wasn’t her first op, but she could still count her number of active field maneuvers on one hand. It wasn’t her most dangerous mission either, in fact right up until the end it was really pretty ho hum. But it was the first time that she, Darcy Lewis, Agent barely out of training, had really, definitely, and spectacularly saved a fellow agent’s life.
The group they had tracked to their safe house had turned out to be slightly better armed than your average white collar criminals (I mean, tax fraud even on behalf of Hydra didn’t usually mean shoulder mounted grenade launchers), but nothing they couldn’t handle. The one hitch was that someone, somewhere, had missed a bad guy, or someone had already been there when they arrived, so they had left their flank open, thinking they had all targets pinned down in front of them.
Darcy had caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and had ran at the small object rolling towards her fellow agents. She hadn’t even really registered that it was a live grenade until she had picked it up and chucked it back from whence it came. It had been a really close call. The thing blew not five meters away from her, but a heck of a lot closer to the guy who threw it. He was well within the kill zone; Darcy, thankfully, was in the “lucky that it was a concussion grenade because you only got thrown into the ground at tremendous force and no big bits of debris got you” zone. As it was, her ears were ringing, she was pretty sure she was going to be blue all down her right side tomorrow, and a stinging cut on her cheek was beginning to drip blood on her uniform.
“Agent Lewis,” Clint’s posture was relaxed, leaning back in a chair, feet on the desk, but his face was anything but.
“Agent Barton,” she answered cautiously, “you wanted to see me?” She had got to know him outside of work first, as no sooner had she come back to work for Jane than she had been dragged into the bizarre social circle that hung out at Stark Tower; but he had been really snippy to her ever since she passed her field agent test and left the lab for more exciting pastures. It made her a bit wary.
“Yes,” he said in a clipped tone, “I wanted you,” he paused, knuckles white where they were clasped in front of him “to explain to me what the hell you thought you were doing?” That last bit was pretty much as close to screaming as a man could get while still holding onto his cool.
And Darcy, lord save her career, was pretty damn insulted by his tone. She had thought, silly her, that they had got along pretty well before. She had even been nursing a pretty serious crush on the guy and she wasn’t entirely sure it was one sided. But now? Now she was right at the end of her rope with his nonsense.
“I was saving another Agent’s life goddamit!” she snapped at him. And, after a pause she added in a tight voice “Sir.” Because this was all about him treating her like a professional, sort of, she thought.
“You made an ill-considered emotional decision that could have got you killed,” he cut back at her.
“Ill-considered? Emotional?” she advanced on the desk. She probably had some pretty serious crazy eyes going, but she didn’t care. “We are trained to react quickly and go on our gut instincts in situations like this. That grenade could have taken out a couple of agents, and even if I hadn’t been able to get it far away enough in time, there was a much greater likelihood that it would be just me who took the brunt of it rather than Cooper and everyone around him.” She was full on ranting at a superior officer now. She should probably feel a lot more concerned about that than she did.
“Cooper,” Clint flung his hands up in disgust, “I swear to god Darcy, if you were planning on taking a grenade for that guy…”
“Agent Cooper,” Darcy ground out through clenched teeth, “is my friend and a valuable Agent. You’re saying that my life is worth more than his?”
“It is to me goddamit!” his feet slammed onto the ground, face only inches away from hers as he roared at her over the desk.”
Darcy snorted at him in disbelief, “I don’t want you to treat me like I’m some little kid who you got stuck looking out for. Ever since I got assigned to your division you’ve been a complete asshole to me and, fine, I get it. You’re not super keen on having Jane’s pet assistant out doing your dirty work, but for fuck’s sake Barton, show a little professionalism.”
She thought, based on the flush in his face and his darkening eyes that she had really pushed him too far this time and he was going to wash her out of SHIELD.
“You’re so stupid Darcy,” he said flatly, but before she could ask what exactly he meant by that, he had closed the distance between them and he was kissing her. Like, really kissing her. Their only point of contact was their mouths, the desk creating a space between them. He didn’t have a hand on her, and this was by far the most exciting kiss she had ever received.
It was only a moment, until he pulled away with a ragged gasp, taking a step back from the desk, looking at her with that locked down, emotionless expression that she was familiar with.
It was a stand-off. Darcy registered that part of it pretty quickly. He had just laid some pretty serious cards on the table. She watched him cautiously as a number of facts started resolving into a pretty clear picture. He wanted her. And he wanted her safe. Granted he clearly wasn’t the best at communication or respecting her choices yet, but she had known what she wanted from him for a long time. And let it never be said of her that she didn’t go after the things she wanted.
She walked to the door of the warehouse room they had set up operations in and locked the door. As she walked purposefully back to the desk, she saw his expression turn from crushed to confused.
“I’m a SHIELD Agent,” she said firmly, “and I am just as capable as anyone else on your team.”
He nodded once at her warily.
“So if I had been anyone else but me who had done what I did, what would you say.” She asked.
He paused for a moment, taking a breath and gripping the desk, “I would say that while your concern for the team is to be commended, it was a reckless move, and there was obviously a gap in your intel gathering that needs to be addressed.”
She walked around to the side of the desk, perching on it as she peeled off her gritty and charred uniform gloves. “So in the future, maybe you can treat me like the professional I am when we are on the clock?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Y..yes, yeah.” Clint was staring as she started pulling her hair loose from its half unravelled braid. “And,” he said, finally finding his footing, “when we’re off the clock?”
“Well,” said Darcy, the adrenaline of the operation and excitement of another sort coursing through her, “I was awfully reckless today.” She kept her voice level and composed. “Someone should probably teach me a lesson.”
The low noise the came from somewhere low in Clint’s throat made her grin, and then she gasped as he grabbed her knees, wheeling her about to face him and pulling her to the edge of the desk so he stood planted between her parted thighs. “Tell me to stop,” he said in a low voice, “tell me to stop and we can both just walk away from this.”
In response, she grabbed his head between her hands, pulled his face to hers, and dragged his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping at the corner of his mouth as she pulled away.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, tucking a hand under her right knee and hitching her closer to his crotch as he bent to her neck, dragging his teeth along the white column of her throat, heedless of the dirt and smoke that clung to her.
She clutched at his back, working one hand underneath his shirt and gripping his hip with the other, thankful that he was dressed for undercover work, casual instead of in his uniform. It would be pretty difficult to get into, she imagined.
Hers, however, had a convenient front zip that Clint was currently tugging down as his mouth worked its way back to hers. He crushed his lips against her mouth, teeth clacking as he pressed into her, his hand slipping under her half undone uniform to cup her breast.
“Clint,” she sighed against his mouth as his calloused thumb ran over her peaked nipple. He pulled away briefly, a dangerous smile curling one corner of his lips. He pushed her backwards with the flat of one palm to lie on the desk, the force of the action belied by a careful hand behind her head.
“You’re not gonna rush me, Lewis,” he said in a gravelly tone that made her blood rush between her legs, “Someone’s gotta teach you a lesson.” He carefully pulled her uniform zipped as far as it would go, exposing pale, clean skin in a wide V reaching to the base of her pelvis, a hint of dark brown hair plainly visible. “Going commando?” Clint raised an eyebrow at her, but his voice was a bit strangled.
“SHIELD dress code,” she answered brazenly, pulling her hips upwards off the desk so they brushed against the clearly evident bulge in his pants.
He took a sharp breath in, “Uh uh,” he said, pulling her hands together above her head with one of his, “I’m in the driver’s seat this time.” He said, leaning forward and tracing his tongue up the path of exposed skin.
“This time?” Darcy managed to squeak out breathlessly.
“Well,” his tone was positively conversational as he leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, his muscles bunching in lean lines as he moved, “I am breaking a few dozen fraternization rules right now.” He bent over, pulling her uniform aside to expose her breasts, “I’ll probably need a stern lecture on the subject later.”
Darcy gasped as he took one pebbled nipple into his mouth, “At the very least,” she managed breathlessly.
He was pressed tight against her thighs, skin on skin as he leaned over her. One hand worked its way down the front of her uniform and a long finger dipped between her folds. She let out a strangled groan, her hips pressing against his hand of their own accord.
“Fuck Darcy,” his tone was lust hazed and dark, “you’re so fucking wet.”
“Every time, you do it to me,” she gasped as he worked a second finger inside of her, “Even when I was just thinking about this.”
“You’ve though about this?” He murmured against her skin, his mouth licking and biting her exposed flesh.
“Oh God, yes.” She cried, both in answer to his question and in reaction to the way his fingers pressed against her clit.
“Was it good, when you touched yourself and thought about me. Did I make you come?” He growled, his erection pressing hot against her thigh as his hand worked steadily.
“Yes,” she could hardly hold onto coherent thought as her hips pressed upwards, begging for more. He pressed his hand flat against her pelvis, her sensitised nerves twitching under his touch.
“No,” he said, pulling his hand away from her “Not yet,” he braced a hand on either side of her. “This is a lesson, remember?” He grinned, “Not until I tell you to. Okay?”
Darcy whimpered at the heat in his eyes, she was already close, she didn’t know how much more she could take. But dammit if she didn’t want to find out. “Okay,” she breathed back in a husky voice she almost didn’t recognise as her own.
Immediately, Clint’s strong hands closed on her hips, lifting them and guiding her onto her stomach. He pulled her back until her toes hit the floor and her pelvis hung off the edge of the desk. He pressed into her, his jean clad erection against her ass as he leaned over, his breath hot against her ear.
“Christ Darcy,” he groaned, “I’ve been thinking about this for months.” His hips ground rhythmically against her “Your ass over my desk, up against the wall in the shower, on the chair in the lab.”
Darcy’s breath was rasping heavily and she pushed back against him, “Stop thinking about it and fuck me Clint.”
“Oh fuck,” he breathed, “Yeah.”
He tugged at her uniform until it peeled over her ass and hung below her thighs. She heard the clank of his belt and the foil wrapper of a condom and then, with a hand against her cunt and one swift thrust he filled her, pressing her hard against the desk.
They both exhaled in a rush, Darcy’s fingers clenched around the far edge of the desk, his digging into the softness of her hips. As he slowly drew back, pulling almost out of her twitching quim, she could swear she saw stars.
He grunted as he slammed back into her, setting a punishing rhythm that was sure to leave bruises on her hip bones, but she didn’t care. He was splitting her in two and all she could do was hold on as she threw her head back and keened his name.
He was driving her closer and closer to the edge and she couldn’t stop, “Clint,” she cried, “Clint, fuck I can’t…you’re going to make me come. Oh God.”
He let out a strangled chuckle, warm against the skin of her back, “Yeah, come for me,” he reach a hand around her, his chest pressed into her back as his hips snapped against her ass with a rhythmic slap. His finger found her slippery clit and circled slowly.
With a strangled cry, she exploded, her cunt clutching and fluttering at his cock as his pounded into her, drawing out her orgasm almost past what she could endure until he came, holding her hips tight against him as he jerked upright, twitching uncontrollably against her until he was spent.
They collapsed across the desk, his body a pleasant weight on hers as they struggled to catch their breath.
After a moment, he slipped out of her, dealing with the condom and hiking his pants back up around his hips. She turned to look at him, pulling her uniform back up her arms. His open jeans formed a low V, exposing sharply defined pelvic muscles and a light trail of hair. His strong chest shone with a faint sheen of sweat, and his face…he looked positively sinful.
“So,” she breathed, zipping up her uniform and getting to her feet, bringing her to his shoulder height. “That was…” she trailed off. She was pretty sure there weren’t words for what that was.
“Yeah,” Clint agreed.
“I should really probably go write up my mission brief,” she said.
“Oh,” Clint was clearly disappointed at her reaction, “yeah.”
“I’ll be done and back at home by about 7:30,” she said casually, slipping her spare key card from a pocket on her uniform, “If you think you can handle it?” She grinned at him as she carefully and deliberately slid the card into his front pocket.
He let out a breath, “I am so screwed, aren’t I?” he said wryly. But he didn’t sound too upset about it.
“Yes,” she grinned at him, pausing before she turned to go to toss him a little salute “Sir.”