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“Yes.”

His mouth parts.

I swallow, remembering the hallway. The soft thump as he thrust into my throat. His cock not asking for permission, not waiting for my say.

“Don’t be careful.”

The room changes. Not dramatically. No music swells.

Clint strips what’s left of his clothes. Shirt first, then underwear. He’s naked in front of me, hard and breathing deep.

I’m fully clothed. That should feel powerful. It doesn’t, and I don’t want it to.

“Come here,” he says.

For the first time since this began, I don’t feel like the teacher. The guide. The one who knows where to put his hands and how to make this easier for him.

I lower myself to my hands and knees and press my cheek to his shin. It’s ridiculous, and hot, and I can’t think of another way to show him that he’s in charge tonight.

The tile is cool under my palms. I move higher. Calf. Knee. Thigh.

Clint’s breath holds. His hand finds my hair, fingers spreading over the back of my head. Still gentle.

Too gentle.

I rub my face up the inside of his leg until my cheek meets the soft weight of his sack. I turn, burying my nose in the hot, private place where his thigh meets his body.

Clint makes a sound above me.

I open my mouth and take one of his balls onto my tongue, and his fingers tighten in my hair.

“That’s—fuck.”

I suck him slowly, feeling the tender pull of skin, his heat against my face. His cock lies sideways across the bridge of my nose, heavy and hard, leaving a slick line when he shifts.

I draw back and take his cock into my mouth.

Clint’s hands clamp around me.

“There you go,” he says, rough now. “Yeah. Like that.”

He holds my face with both hands and looks down at me, flushed and beautiful and startled by his own power over me. I don’t want him startled. I want him to understand. This is me handing him the keys.

His hips move. A careful push into my mouth.

I take it.

He does it again. A little deeper. Still waiting for me to signal. Still listening for the place where he is supposed to stop.

I grip the backs of his thighs and pull.

Clint groans.

“Oh fuck.”

He uses my mouth. Not brutally, but finally without hesitation. He knows the answer without asking.

His fingers frame my jaw. His cock slides over my tongue, nudging deeper until my throat tightens around him and my eyes water.