Compelling (Avengers RPF, Jeremy Renner/Tom Hiddleston, NC17)
Title: Compelling
Fandom: Avengers RPF
Pairing: Jeremy Renner/Tom Hiddleston
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1499
Summary: Jeremy gets curious about Tom's whip; Tom offers to demonstrate.
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt on the Avenger's kink meme. Unbetaed. Also available in Chinese thanks to pokara!
After being the only two people drinking responsibly at the party gets boring, Jeremy heads back with Tom to his room to sit and talk in peace without having to shout over obnoxiously loud music. It's nice, both of them just tipsy enough to relax without being so drunk as to spoil the conversation.
It's also why, when Jeremy spies something on the back of Tom's door that just doesn't belong there, he can't stay quiet about it. Sure, he's heard Chris talk about getting whipped in the eye by 'accident', but somehow hearing about it and seeing the evidence are two different things.
The whip is long and elegant, dark leather but not black, and curled around what should be a coat-hanger, not a whip-hanger.
"You still have that?" Jeremy asks, figuring it's the most sensible question he can ask in a not-sensible situation.
"It's safer than throwing knives," Tom replies, leaning towards the door and huffing when he realises his long limbs only give him so much reach; he still has to stand up to fetch it, though pretty much as soon as he's grabbed it he sits back down, handing the whip to Jeremy. "And I don't there's an airport in the world that would let me keep knives in my luggage."
"Fair point," Jeremy replies, even if he's not entirely sure it is, and he uncoils the whip, running his hand over the surface. It's kind of like he always imagined a snake should feel, bumpy but smooth and dry.
"I don't get to practise as much as I'd like, it tends to crack like a gunshot," Tom continues, almost mournfully, "People get startled."
Jeremy wriggles it back and forth a few times, watching it go stiff and fluid by turns, cracks it too loosely to make any real sound. "Have you ever used it on someone?"
"God no," Tom says, and Jeremy completely fails to stifle a snigger. Tom side-eyes him in annoyance. "That could take someone's skin off. Riding crops are much safer."
Jeremy is very glad they're finished drinking because he might have spat all over himself at that. Tom has always been interesting, but he just became about ten times more so. "They are?"
Tom nods, takes the whip back from Jeremy and winds it up into a coil again before hanging it loosely on his chair and biting his lip. His eyes ask all too many questions when he looks at Jeremy and says, "I could show you."
Jeremy is not drunk enough to excuse his reply; "Have you got one?"
Tom smiles uncertainly and nods, standing up and heading to his wardrobe, digging through piles of neatly folded clothing before pulling something out that at once looks innocent and completely obscene. Black leather has a knack for that.
Tom returns and Jeremy is caught by how, even if it ought to be obvious and he's noticed it a thousand times before, Tom is really, really tall, especially when Jeremy is only on his knees.
Jeremy is so fucked.
Tom looks at him for a long moment before Jeremy nods; he's not sure how much permission he's giving, or what for, but he figures Tom is the sort who'll listen if Jeremy says "Stop" later.
Tom presses the flat end of the riding crop against Jeremy's mouth, brushes it down over his chin, his neck, catching at the collar of Jeremy's t-shirt.
If there had ever been any doubt about this being a sexual thing, it was gone now.
"Where would you like it?" Tom asks, soft and sincere, and Jeremy almost wants to beg him to stop being Tom for five fucking seconds because if they were role-playing, he could distance himself from this.
Jeremy turns around and kneels on all fours so at least he doesn't have to cope with Tom's eyes, concentrates on how the rough carpet surface feels under his hands. "I've been a bad boy, Professor Loki," Jeremy teases, wriggling his ass for good measure.
Tom laughs before bringing the riding crop down hard on Jeremy's ass; it doesn't hurt much at first, the cloth of Jeremy's pants dulling the sting, but Tom's a strong guy and after the first few blows that strength starts to count for something.
Jeremy's cock goes from nought to sixty in five whips, sweat making his t-shirt cling to his back. Tom hesitates a little on the tenth stroke, and stops altogether at the twelfth until Jeremy looks over his shoulder and nods.
They keep eye contact until the fifteenth, where Jeremy finds the honesty to moan despite how his ass well and truly hurts now, burning hot with the sting of being whipped, and Tom makes the twentieth vicious before tossing the riding crop aside and crouching down.
"Are you, was that okay?" Tom asks, and Jeremy turns, grabs Tom's sweet, stupid face in his hands, and kisses him.
He pictures telling imaginary kids how their Uncle Tom whipped him before kissing him, and laughs, snorting without meaning to. It's ridiculous, but what about the two of them isn't?
"Was that fun for you too?" Jeremy asks, having to break eye contact when they're this close together and distracting himself with the buttons on Tom's shirt instead.
"Yes," Tom replies, his hands heavy in Jeremy's hair as if he wants to manhandle him but hasn't decided how to yet. "I don't know how I feel about that," he adds, and Jeremy is struck again by how, for all Tom's intelligence, the decade-ish gap between their ages counts in situations like these.
He pushes Tom's hands down so he can ease Tom out of his shirt, and catches his lips in another kiss. "I asked for it," Jeremy reminds, "Literally."
He lets go, drops back onto his ass and almost instantly regrets it, biting back most of a pained grunt. He won't be feeling it in the morning - he's always healed fast - but up until he goes to bed, that ache is going to linger.
Tom is still hesitant, and Jeremy crooks his fingers. "Come here."
Tom climbs over him, the height difference between them showing in how he almost wraps himself around Jeremy without meaning to, and it's hot as hell. The hard outline of Tom's erection couldn't be much more obvious if it tried, and Jeremy grins, reaches down to grasp it. Tom hisses, and Jeremy would swear under oath it's one of the prettiest sounds he's ever heard.
"Fuck," Tom grunts, and Jeremy changes his mind; that is the prettiest sound he's ever heard.
"Not too fast?" Jeremy asks, using his unoccupied hand to free his own cock from his pants.
Tom answers by grabbing Jeremy's cock and starting to jack it, rough and merciless and, interestingly, well-practised. Jeremy doesn't resist the thought of English boarding schools and dishevelled rugby kits, doesn't try to spoil the moment of fantasy with facts, and sets about unzipping and shoving down Tom's pants. He busies one hand with Tom's cock, and while the other mostly grips Tom's ass for balance, he lets his fingers graze a little deeper, a question for later that earns a blush and a bitten lip.
He doesn't last long - it's been a while and Tom's whip had started sending blood south before his cock thought to take an interest - but that's a good thing because it means he's free from distraction when Tom comes.
Orgasm for Jeremy is fun - usually short, but it's a few seconds of amazing pleasure followed by smug contentment and relaxation, so he has no complaints. Orgasm for Tom looks like the fucking rapture; he slams his hands down against the carpet and arches up, neck a taut stretch of bare skin Jeremy wants to bite into, and he doesn't so much whimper as wail when he spills over Jeremy's hand and stomach. "Oh, god," Tom mumbles afterwards, collapsing onto his side gracelessly and burying his face in the carpet for a moment, "Oh god."
Jeremy resists the urge to reply, just turns onto his own side, facing Tom, and waiting for any indication that touching or speaking is a good idea.
When Tom lifts his head from the carpet, Jeremy figures that's as decent an excuse as any to rub his thumb along Tom's jaw and lean into a kiss.
Tom kisses back with lazy, wet enthusiasm, before giving Jeremy a look that's so open he can't actually place it. It's relieved and anxious all at once, and Jeremy doesn't quite know what to do with it.
"Would you like to go for a drink some time?" Tom asks, and Jeremy grins and nods before kissing Tom again.
"Yeah," Jeremy replies, "I'd like that."
Tom smiles back.
The talk show circuits love stories, and Chris' bruised eye turns up a few times in interviews without the interviewers or Chris getting too bored of it.
In addition, Asgardians and their penchant for leather and metal are always worth a laugh or two; Jeremy plays along with it despite the jokes holding little relevance for his character.
A single wink during those conversations is all it takes to get Tom giggling, and that's as much input as Jeremy needs.
The End
Fandom: Avengers RPF
Pairing: Jeremy Renner/Tom Hiddleston
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1499
Summary: Jeremy gets curious about Tom's whip; Tom offers to demonstrate.
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt on the Avenger's kink meme. Unbetaed. Also available in Chinese thanks to pokara!
After being the only two people drinking responsibly at the party gets boring, Jeremy heads back with Tom to his room to sit and talk in peace without having to shout over obnoxiously loud music. It's nice, both of them just tipsy enough to relax without being so drunk as to spoil the conversation.
It's also why, when Jeremy spies something on the back of Tom's door that just doesn't belong there, he can't stay quiet about it. Sure, he's heard Chris talk about getting whipped in the eye by 'accident', but somehow hearing about it and seeing the evidence are two different things.
The whip is long and elegant, dark leather but not black, and curled around what should be a coat-hanger, not a whip-hanger.
"You still have that?" Jeremy asks, figuring it's the most sensible question he can ask in a not-sensible situation.
"It's safer than throwing knives," Tom replies, leaning towards the door and huffing when he realises his long limbs only give him so much reach; he still has to stand up to fetch it, though pretty much as soon as he's grabbed it he sits back down, handing the whip to Jeremy. "And I don't there's an airport in the world that would let me keep knives in my luggage."
"Fair point," Jeremy replies, even if he's not entirely sure it is, and he uncoils the whip, running his hand over the surface. It's kind of like he always imagined a snake should feel, bumpy but smooth and dry.
"I don't get to practise as much as I'd like, it tends to crack like a gunshot," Tom continues, almost mournfully, "People get startled."
Jeremy wriggles it back and forth a few times, watching it go stiff and fluid by turns, cracks it too loosely to make any real sound. "Have you ever used it on someone?"
"God no," Tom says, and Jeremy completely fails to stifle a snigger. Tom side-eyes him in annoyance. "That could take someone's skin off. Riding crops are much safer."
Jeremy is very glad they're finished drinking because he might have spat all over himself at that. Tom has always been interesting, but he just became about ten times more so. "They are?"
Tom nods, takes the whip back from Jeremy and winds it up into a coil again before hanging it loosely on his chair and biting his lip. His eyes ask all too many questions when he looks at Jeremy and says, "I could show you."
Jeremy is not drunk enough to excuse his reply; "Have you got one?"
Tom smiles uncertainly and nods, standing up and heading to his wardrobe, digging through piles of neatly folded clothing before pulling something out that at once looks innocent and completely obscene. Black leather has a knack for that.
Tom returns and Jeremy is caught by how, even if it ought to be obvious and he's noticed it a thousand times before, Tom is really, really tall, especially when Jeremy is only on his knees.
Jeremy is so fucked.
Tom looks at him for a long moment before Jeremy nods; he's not sure how much permission he's giving, or what for, but he figures Tom is the sort who'll listen if Jeremy says "Stop" later.
Tom presses the flat end of the riding crop against Jeremy's mouth, brushes it down over his chin, his neck, catching at the collar of Jeremy's t-shirt.
If there had ever been any doubt about this being a sexual thing, it was gone now.
"Where would you like it?" Tom asks, soft and sincere, and Jeremy almost wants to beg him to stop being Tom for five fucking seconds because if they were role-playing, he could distance himself from this.
Jeremy turns around and kneels on all fours so at least he doesn't have to cope with Tom's eyes, concentrates on how the rough carpet surface feels under his hands. "I've been a bad boy, Professor Loki," Jeremy teases, wriggling his ass for good measure.
Tom laughs before bringing the riding crop down hard on Jeremy's ass; it doesn't hurt much at first, the cloth of Jeremy's pants dulling the sting, but Tom's a strong guy and after the first few blows that strength starts to count for something.
Jeremy's cock goes from nought to sixty in five whips, sweat making his t-shirt cling to his back. Tom hesitates a little on the tenth stroke, and stops altogether at the twelfth until Jeremy looks over his shoulder and nods.
They keep eye contact until the fifteenth, where Jeremy finds the honesty to moan despite how his ass well and truly hurts now, burning hot with the sting of being whipped, and Tom makes the twentieth vicious before tossing the riding crop aside and crouching down.
"Are you, was that okay?" Tom asks, and Jeremy turns, grabs Tom's sweet, stupid face in his hands, and kisses him.
He pictures telling imaginary kids how their Uncle Tom whipped him before kissing him, and laughs, snorting without meaning to. It's ridiculous, but what about the two of them isn't?
"Was that fun for you too?" Jeremy asks, having to break eye contact when they're this close together and distracting himself with the buttons on Tom's shirt instead.
"Yes," Tom replies, his hands heavy in Jeremy's hair as if he wants to manhandle him but hasn't decided how to yet. "I don't know how I feel about that," he adds, and Jeremy is struck again by how, for all Tom's intelligence, the decade-ish gap between their ages counts in situations like these.
He pushes Tom's hands down so he can ease Tom out of his shirt, and catches his lips in another kiss. "I asked for it," Jeremy reminds, "Literally."
He lets go, drops back onto his ass and almost instantly regrets it, biting back most of a pained grunt. He won't be feeling it in the morning - he's always healed fast - but up until he goes to bed, that ache is going to linger.
Tom is still hesitant, and Jeremy crooks his fingers. "Come here."
Tom climbs over him, the height difference between them showing in how he almost wraps himself around Jeremy without meaning to, and it's hot as hell. The hard outline of Tom's erection couldn't be much more obvious if it tried, and Jeremy grins, reaches down to grasp it. Tom hisses, and Jeremy would swear under oath it's one of the prettiest sounds he's ever heard.
"Fuck," Tom grunts, and Jeremy changes his mind; that is the prettiest sound he's ever heard.
"Not too fast?" Jeremy asks, using his unoccupied hand to free his own cock from his pants.
Tom answers by grabbing Jeremy's cock and starting to jack it, rough and merciless and, interestingly, well-practised. Jeremy doesn't resist the thought of English boarding schools and dishevelled rugby kits, doesn't try to spoil the moment of fantasy with facts, and sets about unzipping and shoving down Tom's pants. He busies one hand with Tom's cock, and while the other mostly grips Tom's ass for balance, he lets his fingers graze a little deeper, a question for later that earns a blush and a bitten lip.
He doesn't last long - it's been a while and Tom's whip had started sending blood south before his cock thought to take an interest - but that's a good thing because it means he's free from distraction when Tom comes.
Orgasm for Jeremy is fun - usually short, but it's a few seconds of amazing pleasure followed by smug contentment and relaxation, so he has no complaints. Orgasm for Tom looks like the fucking rapture; he slams his hands down against the carpet and arches up, neck a taut stretch of bare skin Jeremy wants to bite into, and he doesn't so much whimper as wail when he spills over Jeremy's hand and stomach. "Oh, god," Tom mumbles afterwards, collapsing onto his side gracelessly and burying his face in the carpet for a moment, "Oh god."
Jeremy resists the urge to reply, just turns onto his own side, facing Tom, and waiting for any indication that touching or speaking is a good idea.
When Tom lifts his head from the carpet, Jeremy figures that's as decent an excuse as any to rub his thumb along Tom's jaw and lean into a kiss.
Tom kisses back with lazy, wet enthusiasm, before giving Jeremy a look that's so open he can't actually place it. It's relieved and anxious all at once, and Jeremy doesn't quite know what to do with it.
"Would you like to go for a drink some time?" Tom asks, and Jeremy grins and nods before kissing Tom again.
"Yeah," Jeremy replies, "I'd like that."
Tom smiles back.
The talk show circuits love stories, and Chris' bruised eye turns up a few times in interviews without the interviewers or Chris getting too bored of it.
In addition, Asgardians and their penchant for leather and metal are always worth a laugh or two; Jeremy plays along with it despite the jokes holding little relevance for his character.
A single wink during those conversations is all it takes to get Tom giggling, and that's as much input as Jeremy needs.
The End