Fic: In the Dark (NC-17, Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes)
Title: In the Dark
Character(s)/Pairings: Clint Barton/James "Bucky" Barnes
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M/M, oral, quickie
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. Marvel does. I do not make any money from this.
Author Note: Written for Porn Battle XII. I think this is the last of the bunch. lol
At first there had been something comforting about the costume; like almost kind of having Steve back. The differences were obvious if he cared to look for them (or if they were standing up there’d never been more than a couple inches difference between him and Steve, but Bucky-James was well, shorter by a lot).
The armor was smoother… far less likely to catch on skin than the mail had been. But the colors were the same in dark alleys and rooms without the lights turned on. Because that’s where this kind of thing always happened. In the dark. That way he never had to have that awkward conversation about how no, of course he wasn’t trying to use James to fill that hollow spot Steve’s death had left. Of course he wanted James on his own merits and not because of the costume. Which he did, of course! But they’d never actually have that conversation. Neither of them wanted to. It was better to leave this whole thing as a sweaty release; something dark and secret and awesome but theirs.
James’ tongue drove all that out of Clint’s head as he licked a wet cool path down his chest. “Stop thinking. It’s not your strong suit.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” He moved to take the Ronin gear off; maybe making things a little easier on his partner. But James caught his wrists.
“Tasha’s going to be back soon.” The implication was clear. The less they took off, the quicker either of their escapes could be.
“Suit yourself.” Clint smirked down at James; cowl off, hair a mess. “I still say she’d like the show.”
“I don’t share well.” His voice came out almost growling and Clint’s eyebrow shot up as he tried to figure out if it was sharing Tasha or him that really bothered James. He didn’t ask, as tempting as it was to poke at an obvious weak spot. And besides, that was the moment James went on the offensive. That tongue kept tracing random patterns, licking slow circles as it went further down and driving soft moans from Clint’s throat whether he wanted them to come out or not. By the time James wrapped his lips around the head of Clint’s cock he was trembling. He’d never admit to it if someone called him on it but he definitely trembled.
“Just… damn it, Bucky get on with it!” Clint fisted his hands in James’ hair, fingers skirting the cowl on the back of his neck as James’ hands fisted in the fabric of the tunic that hung open, exposing Clint’s chest.
“I’d teach you some patience if we had time.” James smirked up at him for a moment before slowly taking Clint’s cock back into his mouth and gradually working him deeper and deeper into his throat until Clint was fighting every instinct to just take hold and fuck the hell out of that mouth. The steely grip on his hips-strong enough to make him wonder if he’d find finger sized holes in the fabric when this was over-kept him from doing just that.
He kept talking. Strings of nonsense and obscenities poured from his mouth as James’ pace sped. Filthy compliments that most times would have come out as insults made James moan around him. He never wondered why calling a man he’d grown to respect and care about almost as much as his predecessor a dirty little cocksucker got them both so hard it hurt. Steve wouldn’t have stood for that. Though, to be fair, with Steve it would have been Clint on his knees… and he really didn’t think he’d mind it so much if Steve had whipped out some dirty talk…
He noted a moment later that the wet heat of James’ throat left him and he nearly shivered. “Stop. It.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking again.”
“Yeah, I have to work on that.” Clint rolled his eyes but he blushed. He couldn’t stop it. He’d been busted whether he’d admit it or not.
“Or I do.” James smirked again and sucked the head of Clint’s cock into his mouth again. Clint lost all sense of time and space and any memory of anyone else as he sucked hard and a strangled, shortened cry left Clint’s mouth. He was beyond remembering to be quiet and the only thing that stopped him from screaming was Bucky scrambling up his body and forcing a kiss on him.
Clint slumped back against the pillow until the mess on his stomach started to cool. “Gonna do my laundry for me now, Junior?” He chuckled.
“I think you own me more than I owe you right now, Barton.” Dark eyes caught blue ones and they stared at each other for longer than either man had intended. Clint suddenly got the feeling he wasn’t the only one occasionally projecting the past on the present. Maybe the costume made the difference and that was why James rarely let him get all the way out of it. Maybe James was better at keeping all that random stuff that flew through Clint’s brain unbidden at bay. But maybe… and it wasn’t something Clint wanted to think on for too long, but maybe being on his knees in front of someone that looked so similar to his old friend… maybe it was the same kind of comfort Clint had been looking for. Maybe James had to find a substitute to fill that gap too. And Clint couldn’t blame him. How could he when he was doing the same thing?
His fingers traced the edge of the cowl before reaching for James’ belt. “Alright, Bucky. Since you were so helpful, I guess I can lend you a hand.” His fingers traced the sizable bulge in those way too tight pants and all thoughts of replacements, legacies and memories disappeared.
After all… he knew those colors in any light, but he was starting to think he preferred them in the dark.
Character(s)/Pairings: Clint Barton/James "Bucky" Barnes
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M/M, oral, quickie
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. Marvel does. I do not make any money from this.
Author Note: Written for Porn Battle XII. I think this is the last of the bunch. lol
At first there had been something comforting about the costume; like almost kind of having Steve back. The differences were obvious if he cared to look for them (or if they were standing up there’d never been more than a couple inches difference between him and Steve, but Bucky-James was well, shorter by a lot).
The armor was smoother… far less likely to catch on skin than the mail had been. But the colors were the same in dark alleys and rooms without the lights turned on. Because that’s where this kind of thing always happened. In the dark. That way he never had to have that awkward conversation about how no, of course he wasn’t trying to use James to fill that hollow spot Steve’s death had left. Of course he wanted James on his own merits and not because of the costume. Which he did, of course! But they’d never actually have that conversation. Neither of them wanted to. It was better to leave this whole thing as a sweaty release; something dark and secret and awesome but theirs.
James’ tongue drove all that out of Clint’s head as he licked a wet cool path down his chest. “Stop thinking. It’s not your strong suit.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” He moved to take the Ronin gear off; maybe making things a little easier on his partner. But James caught his wrists.
“Tasha’s going to be back soon.” The implication was clear. The less they took off, the quicker either of their escapes could be.
“Suit yourself.” Clint smirked down at James; cowl off, hair a mess. “I still say she’d like the show.”
“I don’t share well.” His voice came out almost growling and Clint’s eyebrow shot up as he tried to figure out if it was sharing Tasha or him that really bothered James. He didn’t ask, as tempting as it was to poke at an obvious weak spot. And besides, that was the moment James went on the offensive. That tongue kept tracing random patterns, licking slow circles as it went further down and driving soft moans from Clint’s throat whether he wanted them to come out or not. By the time James wrapped his lips around the head of Clint’s cock he was trembling. He’d never admit to it if someone called him on it but he definitely trembled.
“Just… damn it, Bucky get on with it!” Clint fisted his hands in James’ hair, fingers skirting the cowl on the back of his neck as James’ hands fisted in the fabric of the tunic that hung open, exposing Clint’s chest.
“I’d teach you some patience if we had time.” James smirked up at him for a moment before slowly taking Clint’s cock back into his mouth and gradually working him deeper and deeper into his throat until Clint was fighting every instinct to just take hold and fuck the hell out of that mouth. The steely grip on his hips-strong enough to make him wonder if he’d find finger sized holes in the fabric when this was over-kept him from doing just that.
He kept talking. Strings of nonsense and obscenities poured from his mouth as James’ pace sped. Filthy compliments that most times would have come out as insults made James moan around him. He never wondered why calling a man he’d grown to respect and care about almost as much as his predecessor a dirty little cocksucker got them both so hard it hurt. Steve wouldn’t have stood for that. Though, to be fair, with Steve it would have been Clint on his knees… and he really didn’t think he’d mind it so much if Steve had whipped out some dirty talk…
He noted a moment later that the wet heat of James’ throat left him and he nearly shivered. “Stop. It.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking again.”
“Yeah, I have to work on that.” Clint rolled his eyes but he blushed. He couldn’t stop it. He’d been busted whether he’d admit it or not.
“Or I do.” James smirked again and sucked the head of Clint’s cock into his mouth again. Clint lost all sense of time and space and any memory of anyone else as he sucked hard and a strangled, shortened cry left Clint’s mouth. He was beyond remembering to be quiet and the only thing that stopped him from screaming was Bucky scrambling up his body and forcing a kiss on him.
Clint slumped back against the pillow until the mess on his stomach started to cool. “Gonna do my laundry for me now, Junior?” He chuckled.
“I think you own me more than I owe you right now, Barton.” Dark eyes caught blue ones and they stared at each other for longer than either man had intended. Clint suddenly got the feeling he wasn’t the only one occasionally projecting the past on the present. Maybe the costume made the difference and that was why James rarely let him get all the way out of it. Maybe James was better at keeping all that random stuff that flew through Clint’s brain unbidden at bay. But maybe… and it wasn’t something Clint wanted to think on for too long, but maybe being on his knees in front of someone that looked so similar to his old friend… maybe it was the same kind of comfort Clint had been looking for. Maybe James had to find a substitute to fill that gap too. And Clint couldn’t blame him. How could he when he was doing the same thing?
His fingers traced the edge of the cowl before reaching for James’ belt. “Alright, Bucky. Since you were so helpful, I guess I can lend you a hand.” His fingers traced the sizable bulge in those way too tight pants and all thoughts of replacements, legacies and memories disappeared.
After all… he knew those colors in any light, but he was starting to think he preferred them in the dark.