clint "idk the archer or something" barton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brandingproblem) wrote2023-01-10 03:10 pm
brandingproblem) wrote2023-01-10 03:10 pm
open post
overflows, misc psls/memes, starters that don't seem to fit anywhere else, etc
overflows, misc psls/memes, starters that don't seem to fit anywhere else, etc
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The way things are looking like they're going, his ass will probably hate him for that sentiment in the morning. But they're both ready and willing to have a good time, and Clint is going to ride that as far as it'll take them. He's seen Steve in tops that leave very little to the imagination. Hell, they've all seen each other in various states of dress and undress, whether stripped down at the gym or in medical or--well, everyone's gotten an eyeful of Bruce enough that that's mostly stopped being awkward. The context makes the difference, though. That Steve's stripped shirtless here, for him, in his kitchen, with the intent of touching, being touched, being on very personal display.
He'll get plenty of time to properly appreciate later, he's sure, because Steve doesn't give him much time before there's more kissing, and then much more importantly, there are hands pulling at fabric. He's never seen Steve like this before. Figures few people have. There's always such tight control, not no-nonsense but keeping just enough distance to only ever be friendly. It can't be easy to be a man out of time, but this is much better, this looseness, this casual intimacy, this--getting him out of his fucking pants paired with being gentlemanly enough not to look too hard right away. Clint can't help but bark out a fuller laugh, unhooking his legs briefly to help tug them all the way off to join the other bits of fabric they're losing.
Terribly appealing, this. Firm hands and solid arms picking him up like a bag of real sexy groceries. The return teasing. He slings his arms loosely over Steve's shoulders, idly scratching along skin that will never keep any damage. It might be nice to see, though. Some nice red lines before they inevitably disappear in record time. It isn't a long carry, and when he kisses back, it's deep and savoring, with only a hint of teeth this time.
When he feels all too familiar couch fabric under him, the hint of teeth becomes a sharp bite.] You passed a couple perfectly good walls, you know. [A tease. It's, you know, another perfectly viable option.]
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He pauses, looking down at him and not quite settling himself atop of him just yet. ]
I'd feel bad if I ended up putting you through one of them, [ he says, almost so serious that it's nearly impossible to tell he's joking at first. ] This seemed like a safer bet.
[ His smile reflects the tease then, allowing himself a moment to take in the muscle and lines of Clint's body. There have been plenty of times they'd seen each other in similar naked states, though mostly in a professional setting, and really, a lot of the gear they tend to wear doesn't leave much to the imagination. But this is something else, something a lot more visceral. He doubts their team bonding exercises could have ever anticipated something like this. Which is fine, fingers stroking lightly over Clint's chest—almost as if committing it to memory.
Then, he's on his feet in a very careful dance to get out of the rest of his clothes. Steve doesn't purposely take it slow, but if he happens to take the time to shuck out of his pants and then do the same with his briefs, it really might be by accident. He's not shy about it either, being naked; as Clint had pointed out before, he'd been in the army. Whatever sense of modesty a person had simply disappeared after a while, and even before that, with the number of exams he'd gone through, it's just not something he thinks about anymore.
He does think about the way he crawls over Clint once he's undressed though, meeting his eyes with a smile. ]
How do you want me? [ Yet another one of many things they hadn't actually discussed. ]
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[Though if he entertains the visual of at least putting a him-shaped dent in a wall in the future, that's entirely Steve's fault.
That Steve is very gentle with him as though in response to the (light) scratches and bites Clint's been giving is enough to make him outright whine. It feels deliberate. He's trying not to be intense, like he'd warned about, just wants this to be a fun and casual thing, but fuck if he wouldn't mind Steve get a little more handsy at least. Hold him down tight enough to bruise, leave teeth marks on his thighs, claw him up like an animal (and then bring out the gentleness later with ointments and lotions and whatever). Tries not to just jump him and get right to it, a coiled spring waiting to unfurl. Lays himself open and mostly still, on display with not a hint of shame, and lets himself be touched so lightly with only a little shiver of anticipation.
And thankfully the rest of the clothes come off without having to complain about it. It's true, most of their usual work outfits are tight and form-fitting as hell. Clint knows his ass looks fantastic, for instance, and there's good foundation for Natasha gracing a lot of magazines (and public fantasies) whenever she's seen out and about in uniform. There's barely anything that's a surprise about Steve, save for the reveal of what had been starting to make a nice bulge in those jeans. And yet it still strikes him, the new light to see him in, the absolutely wild context.
And then the smile, the smoldering look. And the almost innocent-sounding question. To be fair to Clint: he did ask, beforehand. Fuck or get fucked, do's and don'ts.] You put me here; I figured you had something in mind. [Not a rebuke, not even remotely. Just entertained. Being open and easy and going with the flow is great right up until points like this, and he props himself up on an elbow and lets himself look at Steve. Runs a hand lightly through his hair if only for the sake of mussing it up, nails light but present along his scalp. Trailing down his neck, along a shoulder.] 's it a little unfair if I say any way you'll give me?
[Because it's not a lie, really. And given he's not sure if this'll ever happen again, there's part of him that wants this in as many ways as they can manage. He thinks about the gentleness, the steady and exacting way Steve carried himself. What's fair, he figures, is to at least take two seconds to make something very clear.]
I'm not afraid of you hurting me, Steve. You don't have to treat me gentle for my sake. It's okay if you do, just--you don't have to. [It's also entirely possible that he's just a romantic that just prefers it that way. But there was probably trial and error before that.] Okay?
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[ He swallows around what might have been a momentary protest, eyes closing with Clint's words. He knows he doesn't have to be gentle, is the thing. In their line of work, nothing ever really falls into such a neat category, but sometimes, it's almost nice to envision that it would. Then again, this isn't about work or saving the world. This is just about them and whatever time they might spend together doing this, and holding back completely isn't going to get them anywhere. Or very far. Steve can tell from the hints in their kisses that it might be the opposite of what Clint actually likes.
It's an interesting note. Something to think about later when he's not hard and naked against someone else. ]
I know. [ Quiet, at first, and then, he's looking at Clint again. ] I know. I'm not even sure it's entirely about that. Just that it's been a while – like I said. [ Can he even shrug in a position like this? Well, he's going to try and also shake his head at the same time. He's not exactly setting the mood with that sort of talk. ] I wanna do this right and make it good for both of us.
[ Which isn't the catch to his hesitation, but it's closer to the truth, even if the evidence of how much both of them are already enjoying it is kind of obvious. Steve does offer Clint a cheeky sort of smile then, shifting his position to partially straddle him before resting his palm against his chest. At first, it's almost too light, a ghost of those teasing touches he'd given him just minutes ago. But it doesn't last, pushing him harder into the cushions with a much firmer hold as his hand slides up towards his neck and his mouth descends along the edge of his sternum and then his belly.
He's really not opposed to more conversation, dragging his teeth in a testing nip over skin. Once, twice. Continuing with more bite each time. He just has one current goal in mind, and that's to know exactly what he tastes like. ]
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You tell me what's good, I'll tell you what's good. [It doesn't even have to be in words. Steve's made a few nice sounds that he wouldn't mind hearing again, more, louder, lewder. Clint offers only cursory resistance to the hand on his chest, sliding back against the cushions easy. There's something rising to the tip of his tongue about how doing it right involves doing, to keep teasing, but then Steve increases the pressure and presses him steady and hard, and the air starts to go out of him. Not pushed out by any force, just reveling in the sensation. Swallows thick at the movement of that hand slides up like a casual threat to choke, and Steve moves downward to kiss--no, fuck, to bite, apparently. In a careful, testing way. Somehow that's hotter, that he's feeling out the boundaries and looking for that sweet spot.
One hand of his is on Steve's forearm. Not stopping, just present. The other rests itself back into his hair, too short to get any kind of real grip, but that won't keep him from trying. Sucks in a quick breath at one of the more intense bites.] Like that. That's good. [By way of example. A breathy laugh escapes him.] You gonna eat me up? That what you had in mind?
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But that might have to do with the fact he continues to edge his way along Clint's body, letting his mouth trail over the places his fingers don't. He's responsive, and frankly, there's always been something about that sort of reaction that Steve has liked. It's encouraging, maybe, and once Steve is settled in a decent place between his legs, he only tips his head enough to nudge the hand in his hair before continuing his exploration.
He doesn't go right for his cock, instead moving along his inner thigh as he slips a hand under his knee to adjust his position. It's all sort of gentle, almost guiding him, but then, he's dragging his teeth across tender skin, following with the wet glide of his tongue. He even sucks at that spot between hip and thigh until it's an angry red, and before there can be any complaints, he does it to the other side in the exact same place. Like a reminder he'd been there, that he'd experienced Clint this way. ]
Still good? [ And how rhetorical it actually is because he doesn't wait for an answer, pressing his cheek against the length of him until his lips graze the head. Then, fingers braced on Clint's stomach, Steve hums quietly as he swallows him down without hesitation or any care that he could choke. ]
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Shit, it doesn't feel like it's been a while for you. [That's the praise he's getting, Clint just barely squirming under the attention. If there were nerves at the start of all this for Steve, there sure aren't now, at least not that he can tell from the way he licks, bites, sucks his way along skin like he's a god damn expert. He moves easily however Steve wants him, as bent or wide or over shoulders or anywhere that lets the captain get his mouth wherever he'd like.
It's the pair of marks sucked until they're enough to last that get him a little more vocal, a brief whine, somewhere tucked into that good spot between pain and pleasure. Makes the hand lightly gripped at the back of Steve's head tense, a little dig of nail. Steve's always been a quick study. Of course it'd translate to everything else, including other people.
The question is pretty clearly rhetorical, but Clint's never been one to shy away from being mouthy.] Good, real good, I might even say great, I--fuck! [He's got just enough leverage to watch, and what a god damn sight it is. And however good it looks, it feels even better, the curse practically punched out of him. No hesitation, not even a teasing warmup, just going for it with that light hum that vibrates right to his core.
For emphasis:] Fuck. [In case the effect of a hot mouth swallowing him whole wasn't perfectly clear.] Yes please, we are so good.
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As he'd pointed out earlier, a while doesn't necessarily mean lack of experience, and once Steve's gotten his aim set on something, everything else just sort of falls into place. There's no time to consider how embarrassing it might be or what he'd look like; from Clint's vocal cues, he'd say he wasn't doing half bad at figuring out what draws even more out of him. Be it the twist of his tongue or the slow pull of his mouth. Maybe even the way his hand gives him a firm squeeze. And it's not as if he doesn't enjoy this either, one hand still balanced against Clint's core to keep him from wiggling and writhing too much as he sets a rhythm that might almost be considered brutal.
There's no reason to be slow, nothing that says he has to take his time. Not with this. Steve thinks it might even get a little more interesting if he manages to pull an orgasm out of Clint first, easing back so he can settle his hands in a better position. At his hips, under his ass. It's enough to get more leverage and set his own pace, groaning quietly as the tension continues to build, and eventually, Steve decides to pull off, fingers returning where his lips had been so he can find his way back up to kiss him.
Maybe he should say something? Or reassure him that he's good about taking it slow? Even if none of this feels like it's slow, sinking into the heat of Clint's mouth to suck at his tongue. Let his teeth scrape over flesh. It's messy and good and a clear precursor to the rest of it.
So, he just knocks his forehead against Clint's, his breath still surprisingly even. ] It's okay. [ He strokes him harder, unrelenting. ] I've got you.
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So, no complaints. At all.
It's a myriad of sensations, all of which combine to be just shy of overwhelming. 'A while' sure hasn't kept Steve rusty, lips and tongue doing all kinds of wonders, building up the heat down low very quickly. The hand holding him down is just enough to keep him down, to keep him in place, to keep him from bucking. Part of what makes that so hot is the trust. He likes his freedom, but knowing that it's Steve, knowing that it's someone who wouldn't hurt him (much, accidentally), twists something that could be harrowing back around to something delightful.
He's not quiet about it. Even when his higher functions start deciding to go on vacation, he gives bursts of praise between moaning panting groaning gasping, reminds him how good it is, tells him there, just like that, bites out tight curses, hisses out his name. When the hands move to his ass, well, fuck, that's even better, and gives him the opportunity to move. He tries, for Steve's sake, not to buck much, but his back arches, shoulders pushed back into the couch.
The whine in the back of his throat when slick mouth leaves him is quickly swallowed by a punishingly thorough kiss, and the hand that replaces keeps up the same intense pace.
One leg hitches up around Steve's hip, his own hips finally feeling free to try and match pace and still failing. His hands grip tight where they land like he needs something desperately to cling to against the oncoming train, one at the back of his head, the other arm wrapped around broad shoulders and holding fast. Clint's coming undone, and this asshole isn't even breaking a sweat. The audacity. Steve goes harder, making the breath in Clint's chest stutter to a momentary stop, and paradoxically talks to him so soft and gently. Like a fucking trust fall. Let go. It's safe.
As if that was ever in doubt.
He closes the gap for another kiss, moaning into it, and another that becomes more an excuse to bite more than anything, and when he can feel the tension in his body wind up to snap, he goes in for one more. When he does let go of the coiled spring of his body, he curses sharply, once, every inch of him pulled taut against Steve, trembling with little jerks, pleasure washed over him. It leaves him panting heavy against Steve's mouth when the rest of him starts to slacken, his grip, his leg, the needy pit inside him temporarily satisfied.]
You definitely remember a lot of the steps. [Almost slurred out, pleased as absolute punch.]