feelinglessthansuper

Clark smiled as he soared toward Natasha's current place. He had no idea if she was home, or just finishing a mission, or what, and it didn't matter. It never did with them.

They'd met in Qatar, near the Sokovian Border, during a particularly violent incursion by Chitari forces. He'd been there both as Clark, reporting on the story, and undercover as a superhuman without costume, to try to help without causing an international incident.

She had been there for SHIELD, saving the world, of course.

Between them, they had managed to break a few laws, a few heads, and save the world, and later, break a few beds, too. There were friends, and allies, and both knew better than to ask too many questions of the other. It was a trust based on knowing when not to ask, and knowing when to walk away. it was like no other relationship Clark had ever had, and he liked it. They had both dated others along the way, and had never even tried to do a romantic thing, but they had fun, now and then.

And he was looking forward to that tonight.

***

Carrying a cold bag with the cream and chocolate in it, and a hot bag with the waffles still steaming, he landed, having flown faster than the eye could see, dressed in a casual outfit as he knocked at the sliding door on the balcony of where she was staying.

The particular safehouse where she'd opted to crash this time was hardly opulent; a small house on the outskirts of town, sparsely furnished, but the heat, lights, and water all worked, and the cupboards were stocked with plenty of canned goods as well as ammunition and replacement weapons for all of their operatives.

So, home away from home and all that.

It did offer an upstairs, with a small balcony overlooking the private yard next door. And the neighbors had taken the time to nurture a small flower garden in their tiny patch, so nostalgia was also a go. She'd only been here for thirty-six hours, waiting on more information and snatching a little bit of R & R while she could.

Spies were resourceful, if nothing else.

Texting Clark had been a spur of the moment thing; Nat had actually been surprised he'd answered, and so quickly. But he was a good sort--fun to tease, definitely. And definitely fun to indulge with in a wild bedroom romp too, as she'd discovered on one whirlwind weekend involving espionage, hostages, and orange sherbet.

So after locking down the first floor, setting alarms and whatnot, Natalia headed upstairs to await her guest's arrival, and it wasn't too long before she heard the telltale sounds of someone flying in and alighting just outside. She'd been around Vision long enough to recognize the pattern. And spying the familiar silhouette just beyond the glass door, she hid a smirk but didn't bother rolling out of bed, instead calling, "I told you I'd leave it open, Kent!"

He called out in response. "And I always knock. You know that."

Clark smirked and nudged the windows open, walking in and closing it behind him, smirking as he looked at her laying there. With that same smirk, he moved to her side and set the bags on her.

A little teasing was fun. One exuded heat, the other cold, as he unpacked food, the plates of waffles, he laid out on her thighs, and the container of cream on her chest, just below her breasts. The container of chocolate, he dared to set between her thighs. To warm it, of course.

His gaze wandered over her as he placed the items. "There, a feast fit for a king and queen."

Yes, she knew he always did. Manners, one of the quirks that endeared him to her. There was a lot of Clark that reminded her of Steve, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, everything considered. Because Steve Rogers was one of the best men she'd ever been lucky enough to know.

An eyebrow went up when she spied the haul he'd brought with him, only tensing slightly when Clark approached and began unpacking everything. Uncharacteristic smiles--and soon after, giggles--erupted as delicious smelling containers were brought out and positioned here, there, and everywhere. Nat collapsed back on the little mound of pillows as her body became the buffet table, rolling her eyes at Clark's antics.

Her grey t-shirt and black shorts were thin enough to let the temperatures soak into her skin; she shivered a bit at the brief chill of the cream. "A king and queen, huh?" she quipped as he finished spreading out everything. "It smells great, that's for sure." She pulled the top off of the container of cream and dipped a finger in. "Mmm, tastes good, too."

Dipping the same finger once more, she held it up to Clark with an impish little grin. "Want some?"

Clark smirked as he watched her smile and giggle a little. He loved to make her wiggle and smile. It made him smile in turn, and his soft chuckle joined the sounds as he shifted things off of her a little. One hand stroked her belly lightly as he leaned toward her finger.

"I do love your taste." His tongue flicked out to stroke her finger and the creamy treat on it, his eyes on hers. It swirled around and caught the cream, then pulled it into his mouth, and he swallowed, mmmming low and soft, then he leaned further and caught her finger in his lips, suckling softly on her there eyes still never leaving hers. With reddish cheeks, but still.

Play of this sort was always nice. It was fun, every now and then, to just...let down her hair and not have to worry about double and triple agents, spies hidden in every corner, recording devices secreted in the strangest places.

Clark licked her finger clean, prompting a slanted, sly smile, and Natasha watched with unfeigned interest as he pulled her finger between his lips, the cheeky bastard. The sight prompted a familiar ache down in her belly, but there were more delights to come, she was sure.

Letting him tease a minute or so longer, she finally pulled her hand away to sit up and poke through the breakfast he'd brought. "Looks like a little bit of everything," she mused, peering into containers and bags. "Might feed us for a day or so, damn."

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For <lj user="wickedwithbatons"> : Waffle Talk

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i am...tableting, urg, bear with <3