A Gift From: Ella or ellavescent
Type Of Gift: Fic
Title: To Stupid Costumes and Relaxing for the Holidays
A Gift For: nessataleweaver
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Explicit Sex
Summary/Prompt Used: 1. Smutty smut, 2. Pirate costumes…for SOME reason. (really! Any reason is fine, including a Pirates vs Ninja flash mob)
Author's Note: The pirate costume prompt made me laugh so of course I had to attempt to write it. I’m not quite sure if I really fulfilled expectations, but it all ended up turning into what is basically just porn. Sorry about that! (I’m not really very sorry.)



“I can’t believe I’m wearing this.”

“What? It’s a costume party! Lighten up, it’s fun.”

“Clint, we look like idiots! And why would you get us matching outfits? It’s hardly going to help up blend in, is it?”

“When have you even seen anyone turn up to a costume party on their own? No one does it, we’d look even more conspicuous.”

“…Clint, Tony’s wearing his suit.”

“Don’t put us in the same category as him. Besides, you only think your costume sucks because you’re not wearing the best part of it!”

“I’m not wearing the eye patch, for the millionth time.”

“Why not?! It’s funny: eye patches, Fury, you know what I was going for.”

“Clint, we’re here undercover. I’m not wearing the eye patch – for the millionth and first time.”

“You’re no fun. Maybe I should—“

“You’re not wearing the eye patch either.”

“It’s Christmas!”

“Which means that we had to dress up like this because...?”

“You’re supposed to have fun at Christmas.”

“Oh, I’m having so much fun. Really, this is amazing. And just think: none of it would have been possible if I wasn’t dressed up like this. Seriously, remind me to never leave you in charge of finding me an outfit for anything in the future. I always manage to forget that you never progressed past the age of six when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“You’re mean.”

“You’re proving my point.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, there’s a reason they usually hide you away in a dark corner on assignment. You’re even more annoying to be around than usual.”

“You love getting to spend more time with me. And it’s adorable that we’re wearing matching outfits, thank you very much.”

“Lies, and it’s not adorable. It’s disgusting.”

“Disgustingly adorable.”

“If I didn’t need to keep cover I’d definitely have hit you by now.”

“…Are you two dressed as pirates?”

Natasha had to force herself not to glare at Tony. It definitely wouldn’t do well in terms of blending in to start glaring at one of America’s best-loved billionaires, so she had to keep her expression neutral as she stared at him. He must’ve got the message, but it didn’t stop him snickering and saying, “Oh my god, this is amazing. You’re actually pirates, both of you. I definitely need pictures of this.”

“Tony, don’t you dare—“

“Too late! Cameras in the suit, and I’m sending them through to everyone right… now.”

Natasha mumbled something in Russian that made Clint laugh and Tony raise an eyebrow questioningly. “Don’t bother asking, I’m not going to tell you what it means. Now, would you leave us alone? Why am I the only person here who seems to be aware that we’re working right now?” she griped.

“We’re security, Nat, and extra security at that. I don’t even know why Phil thought this kind of shindig needed extra security, but I’m not gonna start complaining about an open bar,” Clint said, a grin on his face as he tossed back his drink.

“I’m surprised that you two are even talking to him, let alone doing favours. I take it that you’ve forgiven him for playing dead for a while now?” Tony asked, taking the cocktail stick out of his martini and pulling the olive off with his teeth. Somewhere in Natasha’s peripheral vision a woman practically swooned at the act, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Hey, at least he’s alive. And he’s going back out with that team of his in the new year, so no point holding a grudge,” Clint answered for the both of them. Tony nodded, then gestured to their outfits with vague waves of his hands.

“Matching outfits, huh? When can we expect the engagement announced?” he quipped, then leaned one elbow against a table next to him when he just got glares from the two assassins. “It’s a shame you didn’t think to use eye patches. You know, with ol’ Saint Nick and all.”

“I said this!” Clint replied, immediately perking up at the opportunity to prove himself right over Natasha. “I brought one with me, but Nat wouldn’t let me wear it,” he added, shooting her a reproachful look.

“What are you doing here anyway, Stark? I don’t remember Coulson asking you to come with us as backup,” Natasha cut in, trying to draw the conversation away from the ridiculous get-up Clint had found for them.

“I don’t do back up,” Tony replied, bristling with indignation at her words. “I happened to be invited, thank you very much.” At the disbelieving looks from both Natasha and Clint, he amended, “Well, I’m pretty much implicitly invited to every party. No one’s going to turn away Tony Stark!”

After a long moment of blank stares from the two assassins, Natasha finally said, “Okay, you’re less annoying than him. But you’re still annoying.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was a compliment. Well, sort of.”

Tony rolled his eyes, then set down his empty glass. “You two are weird. I’m gonna go drink myself stupid and mingle. Catch you kids later!” With that he was off, stomping through the room in his suit and apparently unfazed by the fact that all eyes were on him. Then again, when was Tony ever fazed by a little attention?

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear the eye patch?”

“I’m sure, Clint. Now, go get me another drink – I’m going to do a sweep of the room.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nat! Loosen up a little. I don’t think anybody’s going to try and crash Phil’s girlfr— partne— cellist’s family’s holiday party,” Clint scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“They let Stark in, and he definitely wasn’t invited.”

“As much as I hate to admit when Tony Stark is right, you can’t really argue that his point about being invited everywhere isn’t true.”

Natasha pursed her lips, and when she saw that he really was intent on making her enjoy herself she let out a resigned sigh.

“Alright. We’ll go and get another drink, and I’ll try to relax. But no one is going to wear that damn eye patch,” she told him, her voice stern as she voiced her last condition.

“Deal,” Clint replied, a ridiculous grin on his face as he took her hand and led her over to the bar at the back of the room. Natasha hid her laughter when she saw just how pleased he seemed by her capitulation, squeezing his hand lightly as they walked to the bar. She could guess how much he would enjoy getting to do something like this, going to a party together in goofy costumes, and not because of an assignment. Well, not really, anyway.

She’d never been able to give him a normal relationship. It didn’t exactly come with the territory of being assassins who could be called away at any given moment, sometimes spending months apart on opposite sides of the globe. So she gave him what she could, and to his credit he never pushed for more. He never tried to say the words that he knew that she wasn’t ready for, even though she was all too aware that he wanted to. She appreciated that, more than he probably understood.

For her part, she really did try. She wanted to be with him, for Clint to be happy with her. Even though it went against her usual reticence, she’d agreed not try and keep their relationship from their fellow Avengers. Of course, it wouldn’t exactly have been easy to do so considering that they lived with them, not to mention the presence of Tony’s AI throughout the tower. She was still getting used to hearing the disembodied voice when she was alone on her floor – losing her own space was one concession she wasn’t ready to make yet, even if she and Clint did for all purposes live together now.

The best part of their relationship, for her, was that Clint never tried to change anything about her. He’d helped her recover herself when he’d brought her into SHIELD, but he never expected anything more than what she volunteered. She was sure that a day would come when he would want more – or rather, he’d need to voice what he wanted that she wasn’t giving him. But for now, she gave what she could and was silently grateful for the breathing space he allowed her.

When they reached the bar, she leaned up on her toes and rested her forearms on the counter. Once she’d ordered a vodka for herself and a whisky for Clint – earning her a raised eyebrow and a smirk – she turned to face him, lifting her glass up to clink against his. “To stupid costumes,” she offered, and once his laughter had died away he knocked his glass against hers. “To relaxing for the holidays,” he replied, waiting for her to smile and nod before knocking back his drink.

As Natasha wiped her lips, the doors by the bar burst open and a giggling couple stumbled through. It only took a glance at their rumpled clothes, the lipstick smeared across his neck and the still swinging door that led off to a conference room across the hall to know what they’d been doing, and Natasha raised an eyebrow as they walked past her and Clint. The woman glanced up and just giggled more as she wiped at her partner’s neck, and Natasha rolled her eyes and looked back at her own partner.

Really, it had to say a lot about their relationship that she still found him attractive dressed as a damn pirate.

Setting her empty glass down on the counter, she laid a hand on Clint’s arm and looked up at him. “I’m reconsidering that security sweep,” she told him, one side of her mouth quirking up into a hint of a smile.

“What happened to relaxing?” he asked, his own expression falling slightly.

“No, dummy. I meant that maybe we should check out the rest of this place,” she replied, chuckling and gesturing to the door out of the room. A glance back towards the party told her that no one was likely to notice them slipping away – Phil and his cellist were occupied in conversation in the far corner of the room, and Tony was busy taking photographs with the small mob of people that had gathered around him.

Comprehension dawned on Clint’s face, and then he was smirking. “Are you, Natasha Romanoff, really suggesting that we abandon our posts and find somewhere more private?” he asked, and Natasha quirked one finely plucked eyebrow.

“I’m starting to come around to your way of thinking.”

“And what if the party does get ambushed?”

“I’m sure Stark could handle it.”

“Do you really trust him to handle anything right now?” Clint asked, just a moment after the billionaire managed to lean too heavily on a table while posing for a picture, bringing it crashing to the floor and the two dozen glasses that had been left on it along for the ride.

“Are you really arguing against this?” Natasha retorted, sliding her hand down to close around his wrist.

“Huh. What’s wrong with me?”

“Do you really want to go into that now? Or do you want to get out of here?” She immediately found herself being led out of the room, Clint’s hand gripping hers as they pushed through the door out to the corridor.

“There’s no lock,” he said when they found an empty room a few along, the lights flickering on to reveal a round table and half a dozen chairs.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to hope that no one else has the same idea as us,” Natasha replied, a smirk crossing her face as she turned to look at him. She cupped his face in her hands, and as her lips met his strong arms wrapped around her waist.

A few steps backwards and she was pressed against the table, one hand sliding back into Clint’s hair and knocking his hat and wig off of his head. “Hey, careful with the costume,” he warned teasingly against her lips, and she nipped at his lower one in response.

His next move was to lift her onto the table behind her, the fingers of one hand digging into her ass through the skirt of her costume. His other hand wasted no time in palming at one breast even through layers of material, and Natasha couldn’t help the low purr of pleasure at the feeling. She caught a glimpse of the smug expression Clint’s face before he lowered it, kissing down over jaw and down her neck before he started to mouth at the swell of her breasts, pushing the oversized shirt she was wearing down just enough to do so. Both of Natasha’s hands were gripping as best they could into his short hair by this point, her boots digging into the back of his thighs. A gasp fell from her lips as teeth set into soft skin, just hard enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

“God, Clint,” she breathed, and when he lifted his head to look up at her his stubble rasped wonderfully against her skin. As a shudder ran through her she pulled his body closer, legs tightening around him until his body fit flush against hers. Her hands in his hair dragged his face back up to hers, and the kiss that followed was deep and heated. Her body rocked against his as they kissed, and she swallowed down each moan that escaped his lips, the friction between them growing with each shift of their bodies. Her eyes snapped open when he drew back from her, and she knew that he must be able to see the question in her expression as she panted.

The only response she got was a smirk before Clint got down to his knees, his hands running slow paths up the insides of first her calves and then her thighs. For a moment it seemed like he wanted to take his time, but then, as if it had just hit him that, oh yeah, they were in an abandoned conference room of some hotel while they were supposed to be keeping an eye on a party, two fingers hooked under her panties and he drew them down her legs, the material taking a moment to peel away from her skin. She might have bitched him out earlier for getting her an outfit with a skirt rather than the black pants he was wearing with his – because obviously that had been the main problem with the outfit – but now, as Clint pushed the fabric of the skirt up over her hips, she was glad not to have to bother taking off pants.

Clint didn’t waste any more time after that, deftly pushing her legs further apart and getting straight in. The first touch of his hot tongue against her pussy had her arching her back, bottom lip snagged between her teeth to keep from moaning. She heard the huff of amusement he let out at her response, but before she could try and say something his lips were closing around her clit and she had to bring one of her hands up to her mouth to make sure that she couldn’t give them away. She was all too aware of the difference between the thrill of potentially getting caught together on assignment among strangers, and the chance of getting walked on by Phil or someone he knew.

Her free hand dropped down to slide into the short strands of his hair, effectively holding him close to her as he ate her out. He’d always been so good at this – it had been one of the things to help her get past her reservations the very first time they’d slept together. Now he was lapping enthusiastically at her clit, and she swore against the side of her hand as one blunt, calloused finger teased at the entrance of her pussy. Her teeth bit into the soft flesh of her hand as he pushed into her, and it was took every ounce of will power in her not to tighten her thighs around him. They’d learned that that wasn’t the smart idea after one occasion that had ended up involving a brush with suffocation.
Once there were two thick fingers buried inside her and Clint’s tongue hot and insistent on her clit, it didn’t take much to push her over the edge. In the end it was the hum he let out, the vibrations hitting sensitive skin that did it, and then every nerve was on fire with pleasure. Clint didn’t let up, and when she resumed her senses she found that she’d bitten down hard enough on her hand to leave marks.

This obviously hadn’t escaped Clint’s notice, and when he finally drew his mouth back from her, after one last quirk of his fingers inside of her that made her moan, he pushed himself up from his knees and took her hand in both of his. He moved it away from her mouth and up towards his, and Natasha was half touched and half amused when he drew it to his lips to kiss the bite marks on her pale flesh.

His expression quickly flashed from tender to cocky in the blink of an eye, and Natasha put it down to the still lingering effects of what she had to admit had been a pretty damn good orgasm that she was taken a little by surprise when his hands moved to grasp her hips. He resituated himself between her legs, and before he could move to try and take his pants off one she dealt with him for it. While her hands rose to cup his cheeks, thumbs skimming over rough stubble as she brought his lips to hers, one foot raised and toes hooked under the waistband of both the baggy pants of his costume and his boxers. She felt him smile against her lips, and when he broke their kiss he said, “Your dexterity will never cease to amaze me.”

It was hardly the most romantic of compliments considering their position, but it brought a huff of laughter to her lips as his fingers dipped between her legs again. It was this that she appreciated so much about her relationship with Clint, the way that they could laugh and tease even now, in situations like these. It was all so easy, and they’d never lost the easy banter as they’d transitioned from partners to friends to…whatever the hell they were now. Friends with benefits made her wince, but so did the idea of describing Clint as her boyfriend.

As soon as she felt the press of his cock against her, her hand flew right back to her mouth, lips parting and teeth biting down. Clint smirked, but waited until her hips tilted forward before he started to push into her in earnest. Her moan was still audible around the skin of her hand, but it was muffled and contained to being audible to just the two of them. Which, really, was just how she wanted it.

In one smooth glide he was fully seated in her, their bodies pressed together from the groin up as her legs came up to wrap around his hips. For a moment then they were still, and Natasha’s eyelids fluttered closed as Clint leaned down to let his forehead rest against hers. The intimacy that she would have run from a few short years ago was welcome now, and she reveled in for the length of a few deep breaths before she rolled her hips.

Clint took her lead and rocked his hips back almost to the point that he withdrew from her completely, and then at the last second he pushed back in, the fingers of one hand digging into the curve of her hip. They couldn’t exactly afford to take it slow when every extra minute risked someone back in the party noticing their absence, but they found a compromise between frenetic movements with a few tender touches slipped in in between. Natasha’s heels dug into Clint’s ass as she rocked her hips towards his, and she swapped the hand that had been between her teeth for the bulk of Clint’s bicep. With both hands now anchored around his neck and legs tight around his hips she barely needed the desk behind her for support, and each thrust of Clint’s hips moved her whole body, sending ripples of pleasure through her.

An arch of her back and then she moaned into Clint’s arm, canting her hips towards his in effect to bring his cock against her g-spot. Clint’s own hips jerked at the sound of her moan, and Natasha clung to him more tightly, her breath coming in quick, sharp pants as their pace increased. His hands hitched her up against him a little bit more, and with the slight change in angle his cock dragged deliciously against her g-spot on his next thrust in and slow pull out. Her head fell back, and she’d already let out a loud moan before she realized that neither her hand nor Clint’s arm had muffled the noise. By the time she realized, she no longer cared. It all felt too good, the friction and the feel of the taut muscles just under his shoulder blades beneath her hands and hot breath by her ear.

As soon as the rough pads of Clint’s fingers started to rub against her Clint, Natasha was off like a firework. Thighs clenching around him, her hips bucked against his as her second orgasm of the night rocked through her with enough force that it took her a moment to feel the spasm of Clint’s muscle’s under her touch. She wasn’t quite sure how she managed to form any words as her brain turned to mush, but she managed to murmur into his ear, arms tightening around his neck to draw her face closer to his. He cut off her ramblings – probably because they were just that, nonsensical ramblings – by capturing her lips with his, kissing her as her body went lax and his arms cradled her to him.

For a few long minutes they stayed like that, Clint leaning against the table with his pants around his ankles and arms wrapped around Natasha’s body, while she sagged against his chest, panting against his arm with her eyes closed.

“Are you glad I persuaded you to slip away now?” she managed to say after a moment, earning breathless laughter against her cheek.

“Unless we go back in and find that Stark’s singlehandedly ruined the party.”

“Are you saying that it wouldn’t still have been worth it?”

“Hell no!”

It was Natasha’s turn to laugh this time, and she kissed him again, hands framing his face as she nipped at his lower lip. “C’mon, we should get back in there. Phil’ll kill us if Stark wrecks the place while we’re supposed to be watching him,” she said, tugging her shirt back up over her breasts and going to move.

“Two minutes?” Clint requested, and the kiss just under her ear made her relent, and she stopped, wrapping her arms around his neck again and holding him close.

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” she replied, and when Clint leaned his face into her neck and groaned, she smiled.