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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND NINE WILL OPEN ON SATURDAY THE 14TH.
ROUND EIGHT
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"S-so you said it wasn't disgusting, right?"
"Right," Phil murmurs, surprised when Clint blushes a deep red, taking his hand. "Clint?"
He opens his mouth, fails to speak, and shuts it again. Phil's breath catches as Clint guides that hand to his face. "So, uh. You asked before. If you had hurt me."
"I remember."
"You didn't." He strokes the pads of Phil's first two fingers along the edge of one eye socket, and shudders.
"Oh," Phil whispers, staring. "I.. How does it feel?" He asks softly, carefully tracing the edge of the socket, fascinated by the texture of that protean skin. It seems slick but actually isn't, just so soft and smooth that it feels that way despite being dry. Watching Clint squirm and whine at each small touch, Phil estimates that it's about as sensitive as a clitoral hood. It's this thought that makes him lean in and follow his fingers with the tip of his tongue. The cry Clint makes in response sounds almost scared, overwhelmed and helpless. He leans into Phil's arms, heart pounding. He writhes and cries out so much as Phil worships his eye sockets with fingertips and tongue that he starts to wonder if Clint will come without having his cock touched at all. And then he's not wondering anymore, because Clint is bucking and moaning, nearly thrashing his way out of Phil's arms in the grip of an orgasm so strong it's almost a seizure.
By the time the Chitauri have come and gone and everyone has moved into the tower, Phil has almost forgotten that there's anything weird about a man carrying spare eyes. He's watched Clint change more times than he can count, and seen him in mismatched sets and run tiny, smooth chips of ice around his naked orbit and watched him writhe. Clint is watchful around his team. Natasha knows because Natasha knows everything, but as far as the rest are concerned, Clint's sharp blue human eyes are the only ones.
And then he forgets. One of those terrifying lapses that only happen when you really trust. They're on the couch watching The Wizard of Oz again because Steve likes it and they like having the touchstone in common. Clint is leaning on Phil a little, with Natasha on the other side and then Bruce, Tony, and Steve. Thor is on the far end of their massive couch, bogarting the popcorn like always. They're beginning to worry that it may actually be a chemical dependency, but Jane assures them that he's the same way with Captain Crunch and that sudden cessation produces no withdrawal symptoms other than hunger. In short, things are appallingly domestic, and then Clint is cursing and rubbing at his eyes. Before Phil can say a word, Clint blinks the left one out into his palm, sighing with relief.
Bruce stares, frozen.
Clint remembers everything he hasn't told them. "…Oh. Shit."
"Yes," Natasha agrees, sitting up straight.
"Clint, are you-holy shit!" Tony yelps. Steve doesn't bother with the words and just makes a noise of pure animal bewilderment, and Thor slams the bowl down, glaring.
"And yet I am continually told there is no magic on Midgard! Verily, I am coming to resent it!"
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"Storytime!" Tony chirps, his voice a bit cracked. He climbs over the back of the couch to fix himself a stiff drink, and gets out a second glass at Phil's meaningful gesture. Clint cringes a bit.
"Lemme wash this off and put it back and I'll tell you."
"Fair enough." Tony passes a cool glass to Phil, and sets himself up as bartender because Bruce is giving him that look that means he could really use some chamomile tea and doesn't want to ask for it, and Thor and Natasha don't hesitate to demand their respective poisons of choice while he's up anyway.
"So tell us of your eyes, friend Hawk." And bless Thor's heart, he just looks curious. Then again, his own father is supposed to have traded one of his eyes for knowledge.
Clint is settling in next to Phil again, eye back in place. "Uh… well. So I'm not sure if it's magic or alien gengineering or what. Nobody's been able to tell me." Thor nods sagely, and Clint tells him the story of the creature in the dark. Tony shivers, but brings everyone their beverage and a Coke for Clint because he likes caffeine better than booze.
Bruce finally speaks, handleless mug cradled in his palms. "How many sets are there?"
And Phil has to laugh, putting an arm around Clint as they answer their resident scientists' barrage of questions.
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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
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You know eyesex is the first place my mind went. XD
I am delighted by your delight, and your apropos icon.
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I'm so glad you did too! :D
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I'm really starting to wonder what people were expecting! XD
Something gory and dark?
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*takes a deep bow*
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The "It's a strange story, about a lonely boy born without eyes, who befriended something uncanny in the dark places other children were afraid to go." sentence got me more than anything. A story about someone who can take out his eyeballs and exchange them for others shouldn't be this poetic and beautiful, but you managed to pull it off. Everyone was perfect, from Phil's open-mindedness over Clint being used to people having issues with what was essentially an everyday action for him, to Thor seeing it as the most normal thing in the world, even if it may perhaps come with a price. Thank you for writing this.
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Loved the creepy. And the eye-socket sex.
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Also, I am now aware of the existence of the word "gengineering". I shall endeavour to make it part of my vocabulary.
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