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. (hourglasss) wrote in snapthread,

Hands. Hands in new places. Clint's specific hands specifically in new places, and it blew her eyes wide for a moment, startled and pleased all at once as she shifted in his grip. Never a better time to be wearing an enormous hoodie like a nightgown, and she nuzzled her lips against the side of his throat again, pressing them briefly to the point of his pulse so she could feel it. The way it picked up speed, just a little, the way she could feel it happening and know it was because of her, and that time she sucked at the side of his neck and only forced herself to stop just shy of leaving a mark, because she was not some - teenager in the back of a car, trying to fumble her way through new things.

It was none of it new. It was all of it new.

Perfect, he'd said, and she wasn't. She never had been, nothing close, but the loose way he dropped it and that note in his voice, his urgency to keep kissing her through his words made her believe it enough that she couldn't work up the desire to contradict him. Her body was so - open and relaxed against him, as though she'd melted into him already, and when she trailed back up to catch his mouth again, fuck, it was shining out of her, this stupid amount of joy, this permission to touch and be touched.

"We fit," she told him. She sounded amazed by the discovery, dove back in for another kiss, like she was trying to make up for the last ten years all at once. "I thought we would."