Words like that have her laying kisses on his jaw, down his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

"Then - I have successfully enchanted you."

It would sound more convincing if she wasn't breathless, if that wasn't the last shred of her wits being used to sustain the joke. And then it doesn't really matter, for being witty is when you don't have someone building and building the pressure, when he knows exactly how to stroke and press her as she brings herself down on his cock, guiding them both where they want to go. Though she'll get there faster at this rate, feeling tension drawn ever tighter, though she's trying to hold on for one more moment, one more. Testing her own limits.

"Hawkeye..."

No, the train of thought isn't quite making it past his name.