Clint figured out that Laura wanted another baby the same way he did most things. He went to the can and there in the reading material basket were a bunch of pregnancy magazines. Not even the ones they'd had for the last kid. She'd gone out and bought new ones. Same way she'd filled the basket with wedding magazines when he'd taken too long to propose to her, and overflowed it when the engagement had taken too long. Some day he was gonna come home, take a crap, find a bunch of astronomy magazines there, and have to set up a moonbase.
"So, 'nother kid?" he asked, going into the bedroom. Laura laid atop the covers. Not just new magazines; new lingerie. She wasn't taking any chances.
"We're too much alike. I get bored if everything isn't spiraling out of control."
He sat down on the bed beside her, pulling off his shoes. "Nonsense. I love peace and stability. And long-term commitment."
"Hey, I love our arrangement, but it's not exactly white picket fences."
"So they're yellow picket fences? So what?"
"Not what I meant," Laura said, dragging his shirt off. His chest was bandaged, butterfly stitches, and she gave it a cursory examination before kissing it. "Besides, just two kids is weird. I feel like one's going to grow up good and the other's going to be evil. Isn't that how these things work?"
"Yeah, let's make one the middle one instead. Who doesn't love that?"
Laura punched his arm. "I was a middle child."
"I was one of two children! I turned out fine!"
"We need a third," Laura said seriously. "Three kids is enough to all tackle you at once and bring you to the ground. It'll be super cute."
"That would be super cute," Clint admitted. He looked over Laura. Felt himself going over to her, wanting her—falling in love with her all over again.
She wasn't wearing much. A kind of one-piece bathing suit, only cut in a broad swath down the front so there was a vee going almost to her groin. He reached out to her, toyed his callused fingers at the division between the fabric and her skin, tugged on it. It moved easily away from her flesh; he pulled it over the slope of her breast, seeing her nipple, finding it hard. He ducked down to it, kissed it, and Laura hummed as his lips sank into her large breast—sucking on it.
Clint made a "rnn" sound in the back of his throat as Laura wrestled his pants off, pulled him on top of her, his mouth inseparable from her breast except to glance up her body, kissed her as his erection pressed into the soft skin of Laura's hip.
Her lingerie wasn't a swimsuit—not thick enough. It was this thin, meshy gauze, with embroidery up and down it to give her a kind of modesty. An R rating instead of an NC-17. Still, it wasn't as tight as it looked. It was just as easy to pull the crotch of it away from her groin as it'd been to expose her breast. He moved his fingers down. Groped her. Tightened his grip.
"Christ—" Laura moaned when he wasn't kissing her. "What are you going to be like when my tits get big again?"
"Your tits are already big."
"Not enough for that orange sweater you like. I'm gonna wear it—"
Clint took a break from leaving hickeys on her face to note, "I'm so glad I married you."
"You're gonna wear the man-skirt..."
"The Cirque du Soleil look?" Clint groaned.
"It's why I married you. And you'll be well-compensated." Clint tried to kiss her again, but Laura pulled herself away, looking at the door. "Hey! Is that Moose und Squirrel I see?"
The door opened. Natasha marched inside. She was wearing a trenchcoat. She opened it up. She wasn't wearing anything else. "Every fucking time with the Rocky & Bullwinkle..."
"Oh, Clint," Laura said, flicking his ear. "Natasha thought she'd stay over a little while. I hope that's alright."
"It's... fine..." Clint said, holding onto Laura. It wasn't their first threesome, but over the past few years, between the growing kids and the Avengers (who were, well, also pretty much kids), there'd been less and less of that. Laura was fine with him fucking other people, as long as they were Nat, but they hadn't even done that in a while. Clint suspected Natasha was seeing someone, which was fine with him, but now—
Laura kissed him quick. "No thinking with this head," she said, gently butting her forehead against his. "Our family's going to get a little bigger and I want Natasha to be a part of that. Just like she's always been."
"It's just usually she's the one who—starts the ball rolling."
"Says you," Laura grinned. "C'mon. I love that crazy bitch as much as you do. Maybe I can't be there when you two are saving the world, but if we're making a baby, she can be here. Should be here."
"Just not for the getting fat and pushing a human being through the vagina bits," Natasha said, securing the door behind her. Her coat hung open around her. No lingerie. She wasn't even wearing shoes. She always had favored the direct approach. "Just the kinky sex. And dibs on holding the baby."
"Sure, after Laura and me—"
"I'll deliver the baby myself, if I have to. You guys owe me. Clint, I have sex with you. And Laura, you're always sleeping with my partner."
Natasha stripped off the coat, actually hanging it up neatly. Clint, as always, marveled at her perfect body. Marveled at how, despite all that, he still wouldn't take it any day of the week when he could have Laura's laugh lines, her stretch marks, her cellulite.
Marveled at how unmarvelous it seemed that Natasha wanted Laura too. Wanted to share her with him.
"You owe me!" Laura protested, while Clint tried to erase his lovelorn grin. Christ, these two—"He's your partner, but who you see having sex with him, all the time? You just do anniversaries."
Natasha shrugged innocently. A jiggling gesture. "I let him eat me out pretty regularly."
Laura was unamused. At least on the surf ace. "He's your partner," she reiterated. "Get over here and fuck him. I'm so tired of him giving me orgasms..."
Natasha reached into the coat she'd hung up. Came out of the pocket with a diaphragm. She opened it up, put the cream on it, placed it inside herself, Laura pumping Clint as he watched. It took a moment.
Natasha's brow furrowed, her usual furious concentration applied to the problem of fitting the somewhat unfamiliar apparatus properly inside herself. She squatted down, stuck out a leg, arched her back but not enough. Then she switched legs, balancing on her toes. Clint breathed hard. Laura breathed hard. Once more, this time from behind. Now the fit seemed to satisfy Natasha. She smiled at them before her expression hardened into distaste.
"Look at that big fat prick," Natasha said disgustedly, staring at Laura's hand. "I can't believe you want me to fuck that."
The bed was the one the house had been furnished with when Clint and Laura had moved in. Big enough for two of them, not three. With Laura still in it, Natasha just climbed above Clint's body, pressing him back onto the mattress, lying on top of him, the kiss she gave him wet and deep. Laura's breasts pressed into Clint's side. She kissed his neck. Then she kissed Natasha while Clint caught his breath, trying to remember if Natasha's body had felt this good against his the last time. He knew Laura's had...
Natasha slid down Clint's body as Laura thankfully kissed him, Clint pulling the lingerie off her rounded shoulders as Natasha's firm breasts dragged down his stomach, over his thighs. His legs were still hanging off the bed from when he'd been sitting on it. Now she knelt between them, took his cock, and it no longer belonged to Laura, it was her mouth's.
Laura threw a leg over Clint, kissing him just as Natasha had a second before. Clint could barely react—his wife was kissing him while his lover was blowing him—but he remembered that he wanted Laura's nice lingerie off of her before one of them simply ripped it off. Laura would hate herself if she ruined it on its maiden voyage. He pulled the garment down Laura's torso, to her waist, and found Natasha's hands waiting there, taking the bunched material from him and working it down Laura's legs as she shimmied for Natasha's manipulation.
And Laura rose up, back atop Clint, resting her chest on his face so he was buried in her cleavage again. It took Clint a moment—he didn't want to go back to sucking the same nipple he had before—but he found the dry one, pulled it into his mouth, relaxed and enjoyed himself. One hand on Natasha's head as she sucked him. One hand in Laura's hair as he sucked her. Good way to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Slowly, he felt Natasha taper off his cock—leaving him hard, hot, but in no danger of coming. She slapped Laura's ass. "Get down here. I can't keep throating him when your sweet little pussy is staring at me."
"You could always taste it," Laura moaned. She was quite enjoying Clint's mouth on her breast. She wouldn't mind if Natasha spanked her a little more either. "I promise Clint hasn't come in it yet."
"Oh, thank God," Natasha said with her usual well-honed sarcasm. She gave Clint's erection a lick before it could flag. "I'd hate to taste that..."
Clint pushed on Laura's shoulder. "Go. Listen to Natasha."
"That is why we're such a good team," Natasha quipped.
Laura reluctantly went down his body, kissing his bandage again to make sure he knew which side his bread was buttered on. Though, really, Clint thought, his bread was being buttered on both sides... maybe only one side got cinnamon on it?
Natasha greeted Laura between Clint's legs with a quick kiss. She nodded to Clint's hard-on and Laura took over under Natasha's watchful eye... the redhead's left hand slipping under Laura's chin to play with his balls, her right hand petting Laura's hair, brushing it from her face when it was in danger of getting in the way of the blowjob.
She looked at Clint. "She was going to steal it eventually. She just can't help herself." Then Natasha stood. Her cunt was waxed bare, unlike the trim Laura gave herself once in a blue moon. Clint loved the variety far more than he did either approach. "How about returning the favor, Barton?"
"Mmmm," Clint said, licking his lips.
Natasha didn't wait any longer. She kissed Laura's head, then rushed up Clint's prone body with a gymnast's grace, lowering herself to straddle his head like it was a throne. Clint stuck his tongue out as her sex came down on him, and it slipped right inside her. To Natasha's immense pleasure.
Her hips began to move, dancing in partnership to his wagging tongue. Clint could see her voluptuous breasts swinging on her chest, feel the lovely sensation of Laura's mouth around his cock and the slippery warmth of Natasha's juices running down his face. It was paradise.
He didn't know how long he spent in that nirvana. He thought he made Natasha come at least twice, reaching up to cup her breasts, reaching down to feel how Laura's cheek stretched around his cock. Finally, Laura released his cock, came up to mount him so he was lying under two straddling, beautiful women.
"Hey!" Natasha cried. "I was going to do that!"
"You go first? By the time I got a chance, he'd be all fucked out."
"Bullshit, he's an Avenger. Hawkeye can fuck all day. Can't you, Clint?"
Clint was still eating Natasha out, so he didn't answer his partner.
"No one can fuck all day. Not even my Clint."
"Okay. Just let me feel his cock inside me one more time..."
They changed places, Laura reluctantly pulling herself from Clint's prick, Natasha taking her place, Laura climbing onto his face. Natasha riding his cock and Laura riding his tongue; Clint felt like an amusement park ride.
"Have I ever thanked you for teaching him how to eat pussy?" Laura asked.
"No thanks necessary. I owe you for getting him into pegging."
"I didn't get him into that..."
Clint grabbed Laura's ass as he ate her, Natasha's hip as he fucked her. She was getting a good ride from him; rocking back and forth instead of pumping up and down, the pleasure never intense enough to make him come. Still, Clint moaned with pleasure into his wife's pussy.
"Oooooh!" Laura wailed. "It's so good, knowing you're fucking him."
"And knowing you're being fucked," Natasha replied. "C'mon. Your turn. Let's have a baby."
Natasha's heavy breasts swayed as she switched with Laura again, a glossy sweat sparkling on her skin, her red hair frizzled and untamed. Clint ignored the taste of his own manhood as he devoured her, that somewhat bitter tang giving way to the pure sweetness of Natasha's juices.
And Laura took his prick, holding herself above him with his cockhead at the gate of her cunt, then lowering herself until he was deep inside her. Then she drove herself up and down on it, unable to keep from crying out as Natasha gripped Clint by the hair, forcing him to keep eating her despite the pleasure of his wife's gyrations.
"You're gonna come inside her," Natasha told him, her voice cracking and breaking with the satisfaction his outstretched tongue gave her. "You're gonna fuck a baby into her. Вы собираетесь заполнить вашей жены тугие киски с эякуляцией, и вы собираетесь сделать беременная сука. Она хочет, чтобы у вашего ребенка так ужасно плохо, так что вы собираетесь залить ее с вашего семян. Вы собираетесь постучать! Ее! Вверх!"
Laura couldn't understand her, but Clint could. He crashed upward into Laura, doing as Nat said.
He came. Laura came. Clint's tongue stilled, his mind lost in the power of his climax, so Natasha rubbed her sex over his face until she came too, forced along by Clint's mouth, Laura's moans, her own knowledge that she was helping Clint impregnate his wife.
The throes of orgasms locked them together, cries and moans spilling over each other—Clint's soft curses between Natasha's legs, Natasha's gentle Russian oaths into open air, Laura just moaning against Natasha's strong back as she fell forward, only held up by the redheaded spy in her way.
They calmed. Natasha moving back from Clint's face, sitting on his chest instead so he could breathe, turning her head and kissing Laura over her shoulder. Clint reached up weakly, panting with exhaustion, to loop a stray lock of crimson hair around his finger, pull on it lovingly. Natasha kissed his rough palm next, and Laura bit it, enthused with Natasha's presence.
It would be too much work to reorient themselves, to all fit onto the bed. For now, the two women just relaxed against each other, letting Clint's falling hands rub at their legs and hips in weary congratulation.
Natasha kissed Laura again, falling back against her slanted body so they formed a little pyramid. Laura cackled as they kept kissing, leaning down until they were indecorously sprawled atop Clint, Natasha's feet next to his face, Laura's head on Natasha's thigh while her feet stuck out over the edge of the bed. Natasha laughed too, feeling Clint kiss her ankle with total exhaustion.
"After all that," Natasha said, "you'd better name her after me."