A Gift From: quiet_rebel
Type Of Gift: Fic
Title: Seven Days
A Gift For: be_compromised
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Strong sexuality
Summary/Prompt Used: Lazy mornings in bed, a week of waking up together in bed instead of being separated by oceans, countries, time zones...
Author's Note: Hope you enjoy the fic!
Mod Note: The person who this gift was originally created for dropped out of the exchange and instead this gift is for the community. Please show the lovely author some love :)



Monday
The first thing Clint noticed when he stepped out of the shower was Natasha's brush sitting on the bathroom counter with a few red strands snagged on the bristles. Hair that his hands ran through last night, hair that he pulled, hair that fell in his face, hair that he twirled around between his fingers.
Despite catching a late flight from Sydney to Vancouver, he and Natasha still managed to find enough energy to rip the clothes off each other when they stepped into the secluded cabin in the woods. They barely made it to the bed before he was inside her and she was moaning his name.
He had missed her, and even if Natasha couldn't say it, he knew she missed him too. After six months apart on separate field missions, they finally had seven days together. Those moments were few.
He dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist afterward. When he returned to the bedroom, Natasha was still asleep in bed. She was snuggled under a fleece blanket, but one bare, smooth leg peeked out from under the sheets. It was enough to make his cock twitch.
Usually, he would be dressed by now, ready to head to the airport, off to his next SHIELD assignment or he would wake up to find a fully-clothed Natasha leaning over him, kissing his cheek good-bye. Neither one of them ever guaranteed the other on when they would see each other again. Days, weeks, months...
Never.
He didn't want to think about never. No matter how dangerous the assignment.
Natasha stirred. Her eyes slowly opened and her hands reached for the empty spot next to her.
“Over here, sleepyhead,” he said from the doorway.
She stretched her arms over her head and blanket fell, revealing her breasts. His cock did more than twitch this time.
She smiled at him.“Why are you wearing that towel?”
He didn't hesitate to undo the knot and join her in bed again.

Tuesday
Natasha found Clint in the cabin's tiny kitchen. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He handed her a steaming cup of coffee and leaned against the wooden counter, smiling.
“What?” she asked, taking a sip. The warmth of the coffee mug in her cold hands and the comforting drink it held were the second best feeling in the world.
“You look good in my shirt,” he said.
She glanced at his black Alice Cooper concert T-shirt, worn and ragged from age. Clint had made her listen to his music once after explaining to her that Alice was actually a man whose real name was Vincent. She didn't particularly care for the music, but she was more entertained with the onstage persona. The wardrobe, the make-up, the hair, the theatrics—she loved the show more.
“You wearing anything under it?” Clint asked, his smile growing in addition to the bulge inside his navy boxers.
“Find out for yourself.”
Within seconds, Clint had both their coffee mugs on the counter and he was on his knees in front of her. She gripped the wood behind her, biting down on her lip. Clint's hot mouth touched her left knee. One kiss there. His fingers brushed behind her kneecaps. One caress there.
She squeezed her eyes shut as Clint's mouth traveled up her thighs. He accepted her challenge and lifted the hem of his T-shirt.
“Look at me, Nat.”
She opened her eyes.
His face was vulnerable, but his eyes darkened with desire. “I want to taste you.”
She barely heard her whispered, “Yes” over her thundering heart.
Clint hooked her right leg over his shoulder and plunged his tongue inside her wet slit. She held on tight to the counter behind her, but her trembling legs threatened to give out. With each stroke from his tongue, she moaned loudly, thankful she could make as much noise as she wanted in their isolated cabin.
“Yes, Clint...yes, right there...” She tucked on his short blond strands in appreciation. He lifted his gaze to her face and their eyes locked. So much passion, so much...
Love.
She cried out his name as the first wave of her orgasm shook her entire core. Her toes curled and she finally collapsed to the floor, gathered in Clint's strong arms.
“I got you,” he said, brushing the hair from her eyes. “I got you.”
She believed him.

Wednesday
Sometimes all they did in the mornings was just talk in bed. Never about work though. It was usually Clint's voice that filled the silence, talking about music, his childhood, sports...but this morning, as Clint lay in bed with Natasha's head rested against his chest, his fingers idly running through her hair, Natasha spoke.
“You know what I would love to see someday?” she said.
His fingers paused. “What?”
“I want to see a star explode.” There was a faraway tone in her voice as though she was already traveling in space. “I've read books about it. How stars explode because its own gravity keeps pulling its force inward. It's a constant push and pull until one day, the star finally collapses.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I know it sounds sad, but to me, it would be so beautiful to witness a brilliant explosion like that.”
He moved his fingers to her chin, lowering his mouth to hers. When he pulled away, there were gold flecks in her eyes. A brilliant explosion.

Thursday
Sometimes all they did in the mornings was just lay there in bed. Side by side. Communicating only with touch, thoughts, glances, sighs.
Natasha flattened her palm against Clint's jawline, rough from a few unshaven days. He studied her with an intense gaze. Always studying her like she was something that had to be memorized.
She tilted his head down, kissed his forehead, then moved her lips to kiss each of his eyelids, down to the bump on his nose, both cheeks, his chin...she didn't touch his mouth, not yet.
She reached for his erect cock and guided it in between her legs. They stopped using condoms months ago when they agreed to monogamy. Their only partners, in and out of the bedroom.
Clint rolled her on her back and thrust inside her deep and hard. She loved the feel of his bare cock inside her slick walls. He grunted, pushing her legs farther apart, and she arched, meeting him each time he drove in and out of her.
She grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts. He squeezed them, pinching her nipples, and causing her to throw her head back in ecstasy.
Soon, Clint groaned, releasing himself inside her. She followed with a loud cry, breathless and spent. He fell beside her, sweat glistening on his temple.
Again, Natasha touched the palm of her hand to his face.
Kiss me.

Friday
The rain outside gave Clint no motivation to get out of bed. The naked redhead next to him didn't either. One arm was wrapped around Natasha's sleeping body. He hated to admit it, but the other arm was itching to get to his suitcase to find his turned-off cellphone. He knew there had to be a million messages from Fury about their next rendezvous, telling him where SHIELD going to send him.
But right now, he couldn't think of that, not when Natasha was laying in his arms, warm, content, safe. He wished their week together didn't have to end.
Who was he kidding? It had to. They weren't living in a fairytale. They were living as a spy and assassin.
“It's raining.”
Natasha's sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts.
He cupped her cheek. “Yeah, it is.”
She scooted herself up so that their heads rested next to each other. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“That it was raining?”
She didn't answer him. Instead, she turned to her side, interlaced their fingers, and lifted their entwined hands in between their chests.

Saturday
It was still raining when Natasha woke up from her dream. Another one about being swallowed up in a brilliant white light. She may have jinxed herself when she told Clint about how she wanted to see a star explode someday.
Never ask for impossible things, things you will only see in dreams.
Like this week. How likely was it that she and Clint would be able to spend seven days waking up to each other in bed again? Early on, it had been easy for her to become lost in the moment, now, she struggled to stay there, knowing they would soon be apart again.
Clint slept with his back facing her. She touched the spot between his shoulder blades and ran her fingers over the grooves of past battle scars. Her chest tightened like her own center was about to cave in. A star ready to explode.
She wrapped her arms around him from behind. Although it was gray outside, he smelled like the sun.
She jerked with surprise as Clint's hands touched hers. He turned, so they were face-to-face. Without saying a word, he pulled her back to him, swallowing her up in his arms.

Sunday
When Clint told Natasha he was heading to Moscow, she smiled and said, “How ironic. I'm going to Des Moines.”
He lifted his brows. “You are?”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “Honestly, Clint, I don't know how you lasted this long.” She slipped on her jacket and pulled her red hair up in a ponytail. “I guess it's a good thing you have a great partner.”
“The best,” he said with a wink.
They moved around the cabin, picking up their belongings and packing up their luggage (Natasha kept the Alice Cooper T-shirt). Somehow, they found themselves back in the bedroom. The sheets were clean and the bed was made, all the evidence of their week together erased.
“So.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When will we see each other again?”
“Clint...”
“I know, the answer is, 'I don't know,'” he shrugged, “but humor me, Nat. Pretend we're going in to work that doesn't involve life and death.”
“I don't want to pretend,” her soft voice said.
He frowned. “Me neither.” He took her hands into his. “Next time...” He let the words sink into both of their heads. “Next time, we'll have more than seven days.”

THE END