It’s early morning when you leave your quarters after working all night long, walking into the mess hall for a coffee or a snack.

At one of the tables, Clint is sitting, having breakfast.

When you walk into sight, his eyes are met with the so called forbidden pants you’re wearing. The pants hug your thighs and ass quite well, sitting comfortably around every curve.

“Oh… my god…” Clint says, staring intensely.