It took until Natasha got to three for his head to clear a little, his free hand already on her hip, almost for support, before he smirked himself.
While Natasha had the advantage of far more combat training, he was still stronger than she was, their flexibility about on par, and their deviousness only getting worse by the day. Stroking his free hand up her back, shifting his hips subtly and hooking his foot around Natasha's calf, Clint gave a push up with his shoulders before Nat passed eight to twist them onto the mat, covering her body with his.
He didn't bother to smirk, antagonising her only led to bright bruises, just pressing their mouths together while keeping count in his head and pressing down into her.