The shoes he'd had so much trouble with were the first to be discarded, wrangled out of and kicked into a corner. With the rest of it she could've drawn it out, but she figured Clint was too impatient to wait for a strip tease and, truth be told, so was she. Besides, there wasn't anything especially sexy about the jeans she wriggled out of and the tee-shirt she pulled over her head, both discarded in a heap on the floor. She stretched out again on her back and watched him for a moment, smirking, before she reached out to hook her hand in the waistband of his pants and haul him over to her.
This wasn't going to be like some bodice-ripping romance novel (he hadn't even managed to get her shoes off and she couldn't even begin to imagine the trouble he would've had with the laces on her Scarlet Witch costume if she'd been wearing that). There wouldn't be anything tender or passionate, they weren't going to call it 'making love' or something equally insipid. It didn't actually mean a goddamn thing and Wanda was glad. This would be quick, dirty, uncomplicated. Distracting. Exactly what she needed and maybe he needed it, too. Wanda couldn't think of a more entertaining way to thank someone and maybe, if he was any good, she'd have more reason to thank him later.