Warnings: language, mentions of sex and role play (nothing explicit)
A/N: I wrote this over the summer when the song first came out, but I've just recently found the courage to post my work. You can also find me on tumblr (incogniteau) and AO3 (incogniteau).
Natasha quietly let herself into her boyfriend's apartment, careful not to alert him to her presence. She'd arrived back in town a day earlier than expected and planned on surprising him. Lucky, his (their, really) dog, trotted up greeting her, tail furiously swishing back and forth. Natasha held a finger to her lips and scratched the pup behind his ears. His mouth opened in a grin, tongue lolling out to the side in happiness.
"Good boy," she whispered to him when the dog padded back to his blanket-covered bed next to the couch and proceeded to lay down. Pizza Dog wasn't going to blow her cover.
She gently set her travel bag on the ground near the door and kicked off her boots. Although just as stealth with shoes on (hell, Nat possessed the skill to creep around in heels on a hardwood floor), she figured Clint would still be in bed as he'd taken a few vacation days. She planned on crawling in next to him, waking him with kisses and light touches which, inevitably, would progress to morning sex.
As she walked further into the apartment, she shed her pants and laid them on the couch. A sudden realization of muffled sound coming from upstairs gave her pause. It wasn't an alarming sound; it sounded like Clint had the radio on.
What's he doing up already? It's 9 o'clock, and he's got the day off. On the few days he allowed himself to take, Clint would wake to feed Lucky at seven before heading back to bed. The dog would sometimes join him shortly thereafter.
Natasha made her way upstairs, pulling her blouse over her head and draping it over the railing. She was now in her underwear, and surely Clint would be pleased with this unexpected visit. Normally she wouldn't leave her clothes everywhere, but Clint seemed to be more than at home with disarray. He'd tell her "too neat people" sounded his alarm bells; "I tell ya; they're hidin' something, Nat! Like, does one really need to put dishes in the dishwasher right away? No! You let 'em soak!" Clint sometimes let his dishes "soak" for three days.
Getting closer, she could make out some of the words.
"You're the star of the show; you shimmer like gold!"
Natasha quirked her eyebrow as the song continued. The singer's voice was harsh and raw and throaty. Passionate. She found herself digging it, a soaring feeling of contentment swarming her chest. Like she could listen forever and ever, and life would be perfection. She emerged from the stairs into Clint's loft bedroom, looking to the bed…which was empty.
"You're the perfect distraction; you're the main attraction!"
Turning her head to the bathroom door cracked and venting steam, she realized that's where the music was coming from. Weird. Had Clint put a shower radio in there since the last time she'd bathed at his place?
Natasha eased the door open and entered, the voice growing louder and echoing off the shower walls. What the hell?! That's Clint singing?! She leaned against the sink knowing he couldn't see her through the opaque, off-white curtain. She closed her eyes and listened, a smile growing on her face and a heat beginning down below. This is sexy as fuck.
Her eyes flew open at the sound of the water cutting off.
"Now, baby, let's ride! We got nothing but - FUCK! TASHA?!" Clint had exited the shower and begun to towel dry his hair before looking up to see her standing there in a lacy bra and thong number. "What are you doing here?"
"I've got a better question. Why didn't you tell me you could sing?"
"I-I don't know. Music is a precious love of mine; I guess I should start sharing it with an even more precious love," he said making his way to her. He kissed her, little water droplets falling on her face.
"Who's the song by? I don't think I've heard it before."
"I wrote it."
"You wrote it?" Natasha exclaimed not even bothering to hide her surprise. "You're so fucking talented! My boyfriend's a fucking rockstar."
Clint kissed her again with a smile.
"So, who's the song about? Who's your 'main attraction'?" Natasha already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear her love profess it.
"You, of course," Clint murmured bending down to kiss the crook of her neck. He peppered her with gentle pecks before pulling away. "You think I'm a rockstar, huh?"
Natasha feigned a look of surprised innocence, her eyes widening and her lips pouting slightly. "Oh no, what am I, a groupie, going to do now that I've found myself in your hotel room?"
Clint smirked. "I can think of something, but I'll have to take another shower after because it involves working up quite a sweat."
"I'd be happy to join you." Natasha started to walk towards the bedroom; Clint waited for a beat enjoying the view from behind. She stopped and turned, giving him a roguish smile, her eyes glinting lustfully. "Now, baby, let's ride."