7
THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND EIGHT WILL OPEN ON THURSDAY THE 28TH.
ROUND SEVEN
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"Looks like it, sir."
"Jesus."
"What are we going to do about it?"
"Do?" He shrugs. "Shit, we have to get them bred. Only thing to do."
Coulson moans softly, and covers his mouth. "I have tabs."
"Always prepared."
"I try, sir." He passes out the tablets that will render them all infertile for the next twelve hours, and they swallow them dry.
"Anyone doesn't want any of us, we arrange something, but we've got to get some of them settled first. We don't even know where Banner is."
"Thanks for reminding me."
"With that in mind, Miss Potts? Stay close."
She stays close, and they make their way in. There are syringes and bandages abandoned on the table, and Clint is still mewling and whimpering, high-pitched and needy. They catch sight of him half into a corridor off the main room, face down and ass up, Natasha's whole hand buried inside him and fucking him hard. It looks like it hurts but Clint just sobs for more, shoving his hips back. Coulson stops in his tracks and growls softly, jerking away when Fury touches him.
"Sweep first, Agent Coulson."
"...Yes, sir. Sorry."
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