Fic: closer to god, loki/clint, nc-17
title: Closer To God
pairing: Loki/Clint Barton
fandom: The Avengers '12
rating: NC-17
warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE 2012 AVENGERS MOVIE. Male-on-male sex, watersports kink
word count: ~3070
summary: 'He’s had this planned for hours, knowing that this is the day it happens, he finally makes Clint his, takes him as his property.'
a/n1: Yes, I totally ship this, and I am unashamed
The first time Clint Barton called him sir, Loki had to physically pinch himself to keep from throwing the human to the floor and having him there and then. Clint would have undoubtedly been willing - Loki himself had made sure of that - but that wasn’t his main priority here. He would be useful in other ways, and then and only then would Loki allow himself to take.
So he waited. He bided his time over the course of the few days it took for Clint to prove his inimitable worth and unmatched loyalty and it wasn’t real, Loki knew that; none of it was, it was all falsified and crafted by the god himself, but it was special and new in ways that Thor’s love hadn’t been - hadn’t been enough. Clint’s was enough. This was worship, and it had been so long, too long, since Loki had felt that warm glow and been as free to bask in it as he was with Clint. So he decided to let himself have.
-
They are in Loki’s private room, away from the makeshift laboratory Selvig is working in. Clint is knelt down, leaning backwards on his haunches slightly, looking up at Loki with those too blue eyes filled with something close to wonder and Loki relishes the sight of him, still good and still strong, but now reduced to something less than that, wanton, compliant, eager - and made all the more attractive by it, Loki thinks. He is impressive for a human, muscular and powerful, but on his knees at the feet of a god he is as weak and childlike as the rest of his race. Loki tells him as such and watches with heat in his stomach as Clint bites his lip and lowers his gaze. Loki leans down and cups the human’s face, lifting it so he is forced to look back into the god’s eyes.
“Pathetic,” he murmurs, and Clint squirms slightly, Loki delighting in the effect he has on the agent and dropping his face. This time, though, Clint continues to hold his gaze. Loki actually puffs his chest out as he smirks down at the human. “I knew you’d be useful,” he almost purrs, voice low. Clint licks his lips. Loki’s stomach twists. He drops his cloak and Clint’s eyes darken. He shifts forwards on his knees, almost imperceptibly, and he and Loki look at each other before they move simultaneously.
Loki steps forward and Clint is sitting up, immediately, reaching upwards and almost pawing at Loki’s clothes as the god twists his hand in Clint’s close-cropped hair. His head is almost a jumble, a vast range of scenarios running through his head, what he can do to this human pet. There is so much Clint would give into, and they both know it. Loki supposes human custom is not to push him too far the first time, but Clint’s almost ripping at his clothes now and Loki was never too good at restraining himself. Besides, human custom means nothing to him, and Loki is trying to break him, after all.
So he pushes Clint away, and the human sprawls backwards, held up on his hands with his legs apart, staring up at Loki with his eyes wide and dark and his lips open and wet, breathing heavily through them. Loki is too hungry by now, and Clint too eager, so he doesn’t bother with formalities, instead snapping his fingers and smirking as Clint blinks, looking down at his now naked form before back up to Loki, standing before him in an equal state of undress. Loki hears him groan throatily and his smirk grows.
Clint is achingly hard already, dick standing flushed and proud, and Loki wonders, briefly, how long he’s been in that state for. He remembers the adoration in Clint’s eyes - he’s probably been aroused since the god ordered him to his knees. That’s a pleasing thought, and Loki allows himself to shiver slightly, his hand slipping down his chest to his own dick, half-hard at the thought of having Clint exactly how he wants him, and gently sliding his fingertips down his length. Clint licks his lips again, hunger growing in his eyes, and Loki hears another groan. He pauses for a second, watching Clint’s fingers twitching against the floor, his thighs shuddering slightly, and then he waves his hand, nodding.
“Go on,” he murmurs. “Show me.”
Clint hasn’t actually spoken yet, but each throaty groan he lets out is enough for Loki to know that he is still in control, that Clint is still willing to give himself up. There’s already a light sheen of sweat on his chest and arms, and Loki wants to run his hands over them, dig his fingers in and scratch at his skin, make Clint hiss and arch his back and twist on the floor, make him sob, make him gasp Loki’s name, call him master, call him god, just say something. Then, and only then, will Loki know that he took Clint Barton and he broke him apart.
“Go on,” Loki repeats. “I want to see you, Agent Barton” - he’s seen how Clint’s eyes darken when he calls him that with a low purr in his voice, seen how aroused he gets, how he always reads it as the promise of later that it always is - “I want to see how much you want me.”
So Clint shows him. He keeps his eyes on Loki as he slides his hand down his body and wraps his fingers around himself, moving slowly at first, his touch light, his teeth digging into his bottom lip slightly, forming tiny indents in the flushed, plump flesh, before he speeds up his strokes slightly and his eyelids flutter, wanting to close and wanting to watch Loki at the same time, his back arching slightly as he sighs through his teeth. Loki feels his stomach knot again, a distant throbbing of arousal in his abdomen pulling at his senses, his eyes fixed firmly on the sight of Clint in throes of pleasure.
“You look good like that,” he murmurs, and Clint groans, his loudest sound yet. Loki is going to drag this out, keep talking, keep pushing; he wants a reaction, he wants Clint to speak. “How long have you wanted this? Have you been aching for me? You look like you’ve never needed anything like you need this. Is that right?” He pauses. “Have you touched yourself over me before?” Clint’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at me, Barton,” Loki growls, “and answer me.”
Clint’s eyes fly open again and his teeth release his lip and Loki almost holds his breath, waiting, knowing that this is it.
“Y-yes,” Clint gasps, and Loki nearly shivers.
“Yes?” he repeats, almost questioning. “Yes, what? You’ve been aching? You need this? Or you’ve done this over me before now?”
“All three, sir.”
This time, Loki does shiver. It’s not just the confession, although it definitely is that too, it’s the ease with which Clint breathes the word sir. Loki can’t help how arousing he finds that. Right now, it doesn’t matter that Clint isn’t himself, that his eyes aren’t really that blue, all that matters to Loki is the fact that this is Clint giving himself up entirely, willingly submitting to the way Loki takes control of him.
“How many times?” he asks, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Every night.”
Loki swallows, shutting his own eyes for a second before reigning himself in, determined not to lose control of himself now, and opening them again, stepping closer and looking down at Clint, relishing the sight beneath him.
“Yes?” he asks, voice returning to that dark purr. “And what do you think about?” He waits, but Clint is gasping again, his hips shaking slightly, lifting off the floor as he bucks into his hand. Loki hums thoughtfully and slides his fingertips down his cock again, and then again, and then again, sliding his thumb over the head and watching as Clint’s mouth falls open.
“Sucking your dick, sir,” he pants, and Loki lets out his own groan.
“Tell me, Clint.”
Loki realises too late what he’s said, using the human’s first name, but before he can begin to regret it he sees the effect it has on Clint himself; his cheeks flush even more and he bucks his hips higher, harder, beginning to fuck his fist, groaning loudly. Loki doubts if he’s seen anything much more arousing. He waits, patiently, hungrily, for Clint to regain command of himself enough to answer.
Finally, he licks his lips again and his hips slow slightly.
“On my knees for you, sir, with your hand on my head as you fuck my mouth.”
Clint is almost spitting the words, gasping with every breath, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat, his arms, hips and thighs all shaking, pre-come beading slightly on the head of his cock. Loki thinks he’s beautiful like this, his muscular body gorgeous in its complete lack of control, its absence of any dignity.
“How far would you go for me, Clint?” Loki asks, winning the battle to keep his voice steady, maintaining his control of the situation despite his increasing need. “What would you let me do to you?”
He’s had this planned for hours, knowing that this is the day it happens, he finally makes Clint his, takes him as his property. As aroused as he is, desire isn’t the only thing building painfully inside him, lust isn’t the only thing swelling within his cock. He’s been preparing for Clint to give in, to beg for it; he wants Clint to want it, and he wants to hear him say it.
“Anything you want, sir,” Clint pants, and Loki almost holds his breath. “You can do anything you want to do to me, I’d let you do anything, just… please.”
And that’s it, Clint’s admitted it, given in, he’s begged for it, and Loki can’t wait anymore - hours of waiting, of holding out, of counting on this, it’s all been worth it. He wraps his hand around his cock fully, desperate by now, almost in pain, and steps even closer, standing over Clint completely, his feet either side of the human’s knees. He jerks quickly, his palm slipping rapidly up and down his length, before he presses his thumb just under the head of his cock and gasps in relief, tipping his head back and almost moaning as he lets go, releases everything he’s been holding in, his hips shaking slightly as he pisses down onto Clint’s chest.
And Clint’s gasping and moaning and writhing for it, loving it, and Loki does moan when he sees it, sees exactly how much Clint wants it, giving into it. Loki strokes himself quicker, watching as he marks Clint’s torso, already shining with sweat, and bites his lip, sighing blissfully as he empties his bladder, until he’s done and Clint’s skin is almost covered, the human’s eyes no longer on Loki but now staring down at himself, panting and jerking himself quicker. Loki bends down and grips Clint’s jaw with one hand, and his wrist with the other, holding his hand still and almost laughing when he hears a whine in Clint’s throat.
“You like that?” he murmurs, and smirks when Clint bites his lip and nods frantically, face flushed. “Good. Now” - he lets go of Clint and straightens up, stepping back again - “get up. Get on your knees.”
Clint almost scrabbles to do so, and Loki groans again at the sight of his piss, trickling slowly down Clint’s body, then his eyes reach his hips, and his cock, erect and flushed, with his hand wrapped back around it, once again stroking it. Loki growls softly in his throat.
“No,” he murmurs. “Or you’ll come before I want you to.”
He snaps his fingers and Clint’s hands are bound behind his back, held in place against his spine by an invisible thread of magic. Clint groans and rocks his hips in the air.
“Please, sir, please, I need…”
“Shh,” Loki whispers, cutting him off, reaching down to cup his chin again. “I’ll let you come, Clint. Soon. I’ll even make you come myself. But first, I want you to suck my dick.”
And Clint does - as if there had been any doubt that he would. He’s somewhat sloppy and lacking in finesse but he makes up for that in his readiness, his hands on Loki’s thighs, his eyes shut, his lips and tongue working swiftly, eagerly, and Loki can’t help but bury his hands in Clint’s hair and release a low groan. Clint moans and digs his finger into Loki’s pale skin, getting off on getting him off… Loki almost regrets waiting so long to have him.
Clint pulls away to gasp in breaths, immediately replacing his mouth with a hand, stroking Loki slick and fast, his eyes cracked open just enough to see the god above him, looking down at him, hair falling into his face, pupils dilated in his green eyes, his breathing shallow, and Loki can feel the adoration practically radiating from Clint’s body. He grips his hair tighter and begins to rock his hips, shallow thrusts first into Clint’s fist and then back into his mouth when the human shifts forwards again and opens his lips.
Part of Loki actually wants to talk, wants to tell Clint what he wants, to order him, make me come, Barton, but he’s almost too far gone already, and Clint’s getting used to it now, he’s adaptive, and he’s started experimenting; a harder suck here, a low vibrating moan there, a quick flick of his tongue around the head every now and then, and by now Loki’s thrusts are even shorter, more tiny, abortive hip jerks than any controlled movement, no matter what he’d intended. His breaths are shorter, too, and they escape in small gasps, his chest now dotted with sweat, rising and falling increasingly rapidly… He doesn’t need to make any orders at all, Clint’s going to make him come now anyway.
He does with speed and efficiency, sucking Loki deeper and deeper as he pants and finally lets out one louder, longer groan, tipping his head back and coming in Clint’s mouth, smirking again as Clint swallows every drop dutifully before pulling away and sitting back on his haunches again, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Loki briefly entertains the thought of walking away, of leaving him here to finish himself off, but by now Clint is almost shaking, panting, eyes wide and lips open and still damp, begging without words and Loki doesn’t even want to leave him. So instead he relaxes his body, and stretches his leg out, nudging Clint back down onto his back.
Clint goes willingly, spread out on the cool tile of the dim room, his muscular body slightly strained, the sheen of sweat and piss on his skin almost shimmering in the bare light. Loki folds himself elegantly over him, and leans down as though to kiss him. His lips find Clint’s jaw and trail along the skin, nipping slightly, before he reaches his mouth and bites lightly at the plump, spit-slick lower lip. He pushes himself up to look down into Clint’s eyes as his hand slides between their bodies, tracing the muscles of Clint’s abdomen, and those too-blue eyes flutter as the chest beneath Loki heaves. Loki feels Clint’s hips bucking and resists the urge to tease, wrapping his fingers around Clint’s cock and stroking with sure, even movements.
Clint gasps beneath him, eyes now wide open and mouth parted too, breaths escaping in rapid pants, his hips bucking up into Loki’s steady hand. Loki watches him with a smirk. He’s not going to last long.
Loki lets him get closer, lets his gasps grow to near-moans, and then lets go, and the whine Clint releases when he does so makes actually giving him this worth it. Loki hums in satisfaction, and shifts backwards, moving his head lower down Clint’s body. He’s going to fulfil the promise he made to himself; he’s going to take this human body apart.
He doesn’t suck him, not properly, but he takes the head of Clint’s cock in his mouth and twirls his tongue around it teasingly, making Clint whine again. Loki reaches up and strokes his fingers over the damp muscles of Clint’s chest, before digging his nails in and scratching, like he’d wanted all along. Clint gasps and arches his back, and Loki just about makes out his name through the pants, amongst various human curse words. So he does it again, and slides his other hand lower, stroking up the inside of Clint’s thigh and reaching the base of his cock, sliding his fingertips gently up and down his length before slipping back down, even lower, and around, to his ass, to run his fingertips over Clint’s tight hole - not breaching, barely even tickling.
Clint’s hips snap upwards and he gasps out Loki’s name once more, as well as more frantic curse words and lastly, finally, to Loki’s utter satisfaction, a desperate pant of, oh my God yes, and Loki pulls away and sits up and strokes him once, twice, three times more, and Clint’s coming, hips jerking as his orgasm takes him apart before he collapses back on the floor, panting for breath and barely able to open his eyes.
Loki wastes no time in bringing the event to a close, lifting himself back up and waving his hand, redressing himself in an instant as he looks down at Clint, a mess of sweat and piss and come. He smirks yet again and nods once at the human.
“Thank you, Agent Barton.” He pauses, before he sweeps towards the door, not even slightly tempted to look back. “Please clean up after yourself.”
He opens the door and is faced once more with the hustle and bustle of the laboratory, shutting the door behind him and leaving Clint in the near-darkness once more.
pairing: Loki/Clint Barton
fandom: The Avengers '12
rating: NC-17
warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE 2012 AVENGERS MOVIE. Male-on-male sex, watersports kink
word count: ~3070
summary: 'He’s had this planned for hours, knowing that this is the day it happens, he finally makes Clint his, takes him as his property.'
a/n1: Yes, I totally ship this, and I am unashamed
The first time Clint Barton called him sir, Loki had to physically pinch himself to keep from throwing the human to the floor and having him there and then. Clint would have undoubtedly been willing - Loki himself had made sure of that - but that wasn’t his main priority here. He would be useful in other ways, and then and only then would Loki allow himself to take.
So he waited. He bided his time over the course of the few days it took for Clint to prove his inimitable worth and unmatched loyalty and it wasn’t real, Loki knew that; none of it was, it was all falsified and crafted by the god himself, but it was special and new in ways that Thor’s love hadn’t been - hadn’t been enough. Clint’s was enough. This was worship, and it had been so long, too long, since Loki had felt that warm glow and been as free to bask in it as he was with Clint. So he decided to let himself have.
-
They are in Loki’s private room, away from the makeshift laboratory Selvig is working in. Clint is knelt down, leaning backwards on his haunches slightly, looking up at Loki with those too blue eyes filled with something close to wonder and Loki relishes the sight of him, still good and still strong, but now reduced to something less than that, wanton, compliant, eager - and made all the more attractive by it, Loki thinks. He is impressive for a human, muscular and powerful, but on his knees at the feet of a god he is as weak and childlike as the rest of his race. Loki tells him as such and watches with heat in his stomach as Clint bites his lip and lowers his gaze. Loki leans down and cups the human’s face, lifting it so he is forced to look back into the god’s eyes.
“Pathetic,” he murmurs, and Clint squirms slightly, Loki delighting in the effect he has on the agent and dropping his face. This time, though, Clint continues to hold his gaze. Loki actually puffs his chest out as he smirks down at the human. “I knew you’d be useful,” he almost purrs, voice low. Clint licks his lips. Loki’s stomach twists. He drops his cloak and Clint’s eyes darken. He shifts forwards on his knees, almost imperceptibly, and he and Loki look at each other before they move simultaneously.
Loki steps forward and Clint is sitting up, immediately, reaching upwards and almost pawing at Loki’s clothes as the god twists his hand in Clint’s close-cropped hair. His head is almost a jumble, a vast range of scenarios running through his head, what he can do to this human pet. There is so much Clint would give into, and they both know it. Loki supposes human custom is not to push him too far the first time, but Clint’s almost ripping at his clothes now and Loki was never too good at restraining himself. Besides, human custom means nothing to him, and Loki is trying to break him, after all.
So he pushes Clint away, and the human sprawls backwards, held up on his hands with his legs apart, staring up at Loki with his eyes wide and dark and his lips open and wet, breathing heavily through them. Loki is too hungry by now, and Clint too eager, so he doesn’t bother with formalities, instead snapping his fingers and smirking as Clint blinks, looking down at his now naked form before back up to Loki, standing before him in an equal state of undress. Loki hears him groan throatily and his smirk grows.
Clint is achingly hard already, dick standing flushed and proud, and Loki wonders, briefly, how long he’s been in that state for. He remembers the adoration in Clint’s eyes - he’s probably been aroused since the god ordered him to his knees. That’s a pleasing thought, and Loki allows himself to shiver slightly, his hand slipping down his chest to his own dick, half-hard at the thought of having Clint exactly how he wants him, and gently sliding his fingertips down his length. Clint licks his lips again, hunger growing in his eyes, and Loki hears another groan. He pauses for a second, watching Clint’s fingers twitching against the floor, his thighs shuddering slightly, and then he waves his hand, nodding.
“Go on,” he murmurs. “Show me.”
Clint hasn’t actually spoken yet, but each throaty groan he lets out is enough for Loki to know that he is still in control, that Clint is still willing to give himself up. There’s already a light sheen of sweat on his chest and arms, and Loki wants to run his hands over them, dig his fingers in and scratch at his skin, make Clint hiss and arch his back and twist on the floor, make him sob, make him gasp Loki’s name, call him master, call him god, just say something. Then, and only then, will Loki know that he took Clint Barton and he broke him apart.
“Go on,” Loki repeats. “I want to see you, Agent Barton” - he’s seen how Clint’s eyes darken when he calls him that with a low purr in his voice, seen how aroused he gets, how he always reads it as the promise of later that it always is - “I want to see how much you want me.”
So Clint shows him. He keeps his eyes on Loki as he slides his hand down his body and wraps his fingers around himself, moving slowly at first, his touch light, his teeth digging into his bottom lip slightly, forming tiny indents in the flushed, plump flesh, before he speeds up his strokes slightly and his eyelids flutter, wanting to close and wanting to watch Loki at the same time, his back arching slightly as he sighs through his teeth. Loki feels his stomach knot again, a distant throbbing of arousal in his abdomen pulling at his senses, his eyes fixed firmly on the sight of Clint in throes of pleasure.
“You look good like that,” he murmurs, and Clint groans, his loudest sound yet. Loki is going to drag this out, keep talking, keep pushing; he wants a reaction, he wants Clint to speak. “How long have you wanted this? Have you been aching for me? You look like you’ve never needed anything like you need this. Is that right?” He pauses. “Have you touched yourself over me before?” Clint’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at me, Barton,” Loki growls, “and answer me.”
Clint’s eyes fly open again and his teeth release his lip and Loki almost holds his breath, waiting, knowing that this is it.
“Y-yes,” Clint gasps, and Loki nearly shivers.
“Yes?” he repeats, almost questioning. “Yes, what? You’ve been aching? You need this? Or you’ve done this over me before now?”
“All three, sir.”
This time, Loki does shiver. It’s not just the confession, although it definitely is that too, it’s the ease with which Clint breathes the word sir. Loki can’t help how arousing he finds that. Right now, it doesn’t matter that Clint isn’t himself, that his eyes aren’t really that blue, all that matters to Loki is the fact that this is Clint giving himself up entirely, willingly submitting to the way Loki takes control of him.
“How many times?” he asks, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Every night.”
Loki swallows, shutting his own eyes for a second before reigning himself in, determined not to lose control of himself now, and opening them again, stepping closer and looking down at Clint, relishing the sight beneath him.
“Yes?” he asks, voice returning to that dark purr. “And what do you think about?” He waits, but Clint is gasping again, his hips shaking slightly, lifting off the floor as he bucks into his hand. Loki hums thoughtfully and slides his fingertips down his cock again, and then again, and then again, sliding his thumb over the head and watching as Clint’s mouth falls open.
“Sucking your dick, sir,” he pants, and Loki lets out his own groan.
“Tell me, Clint.”
Loki realises too late what he’s said, using the human’s first name, but before he can begin to regret it he sees the effect it has on Clint himself; his cheeks flush even more and he bucks his hips higher, harder, beginning to fuck his fist, groaning loudly. Loki doubts if he’s seen anything much more arousing. He waits, patiently, hungrily, for Clint to regain command of himself enough to answer.
Finally, he licks his lips again and his hips slow slightly.
“On my knees for you, sir, with your hand on my head as you fuck my mouth.”
Clint is almost spitting the words, gasping with every breath, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat, his arms, hips and thighs all shaking, pre-come beading slightly on the head of his cock. Loki thinks he’s beautiful like this, his muscular body gorgeous in its complete lack of control, its absence of any dignity.
“How far would you go for me, Clint?” Loki asks, winning the battle to keep his voice steady, maintaining his control of the situation despite his increasing need. “What would you let me do to you?”
He’s had this planned for hours, knowing that this is the day it happens, he finally makes Clint his, takes him as his property. As aroused as he is, desire isn’t the only thing building painfully inside him, lust isn’t the only thing swelling within his cock. He’s been preparing for Clint to give in, to beg for it; he wants Clint to want it, and he wants to hear him say it.
“Anything you want, sir,” Clint pants, and Loki almost holds his breath. “You can do anything you want to do to me, I’d let you do anything, just… please.”
And that’s it, Clint’s admitted it, given in, he’s begged for it, and Loki can’t wait anymore - hours of waiting, of holding out, of counting on this, it’s all been worth it. He wraps his hand around his cock fully, desperate by now, almost in pain, and steps even closer, standing over Clint completely, his feet either side of the human’s knees. He jerks quickly, his palm slipping rapidly up and down his length, before he presses his thumb just under the head of his cock and gasps in relief, tipping his head back and almost moaning as he lets go, releases everything he’s been holding in, his hips shaking slightly as he pisses down onto Clint’s chest.
And Clint’s gasping and moaning and writhing for it, loving it, and Loki does moan when he sees it, sees exactly how much Clint wants it, giving into it. Loki strokes himself quicker, watching as he marks Clint’s torso, already shining with sweat, and bites his lip, sighing blissfully as he empties his bladder, until he’s done and Clint’s skin is almost covered, the human’s eyes no longer on Loki but now staring down at himself, panting and jerking himself quicker. Loki bends down and grips Clint’s jaw with one hand, and his wrist with the other, holding his hand still and almost laughing when he hears a whine in Clint’s throat.
“You like that?” he murmurs, and smirks when Clint bites his lip and nods frantically, face flushed. “Good. Now” - he lets go of Clint and straightens up, stepping back again - “get up. Get on your knees.”
Clint almost scrabbles to do so, and Loki groans again at the sight of his piss, trickling slowly down Clint’s body, then his eyes reach his hips, and his cock, erect and flushed, with his hand wrapped back around it, once again stroking it. Loki growls softly in his throat.
“No,” he murmurs. “Or you’ll come before I want you to.”
He snaps his fingers and Clint’s hands are bound behind his back, held in place against his spine by an invisible thread of magic. Clint groans and rocks his hips in the air.
“Please, sir, please, I need…”
“Shh,” Loki whispers, cutting him off, reaching down to cup his chin again. “I’ll let you come, Clint. Soon. I’ll even make you come myself. But first, I want you to suck my dick.”
And Clint does - as if there had been any doubt that he would. He’s somewhat sloppy and lacking in finesse but he makes up for that in his readiness, his hands on Loki’s thighs, his eyes shut, his lips and tongue working swiftly, eagerly, and Loki can’t help but bury his hands in Clint’s hair and release a low groan. Clint moans and digs his finger into Loki’s pale skin, getting off on getting him off… Loki almost regrets waiting so long to have him.
Clint pulls away to gasp in breaths, immediately replacing his mouth with a hand, stroking Loki slick and fast, his eyes cracked open just enough to see the god above him, looking down at him, hair falling into his face, pupils dilated in his green eyes, his breathing shallow, and Loki can feel the adoration practically radiating from Clint’s body. He grips his hair tighter and begins to rock his hips, shallow thrusts first into Clint’s fist and then back into his mouth when the human shifts forwards again and opens his lips.
Part of Loki actually wants to talk, wants to tell Clint what he wants, to order him, make me come, Barton, but he’s almost too far gone already, and Clint’s getting used to it now, he’s adaptive, and he’s started experimenting; a harder suck here, a low vibrating moan there, a quick flick of his tongue around the head every now and then, and by now Loki’s thrusts are even shorter, more tiny, abortive hip jerks than any controlled movement, no matter what he’d intended. His breaths are shorter, too, and they escape in small gasps, his chest now dotted with sweat, rising and falling increasingly rapidly… He doesn’t need to make any orders at all, Clint’s going to make him come now anyway.
He does with speed and efficiency, sucking Loki deeper and deeper as he pants and finally lets out one louder, longer groan, tipping his head back and coming in Clint’s mouth, smirking again as Clint swallows every drop dutifully before pulling away and sitting back on his haunches again, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Loki briefly entertains the thought of walking away, of leaving him here to finish himself off, but by now Clint is almost shaking, panting, eyes wide and lips open and still damp, begging without words and Loki doesn’t even want to leave him. So instead he relaxes his body, and stretches his leg out, nudging Clint back down onto his back.
Clint goes willingly, spread out on the cool tile of the dim room, his muscular body slightly strained, the sheen of sweat and piss on his skin almost shimmering in the bare light. Loki folds himself elegantly over him, and leans down as though to kiss him. His lips find Clint’s jaw and trail along the skin, nipping slightly, before he reaches his mouth and bites lightly at the plump, spit-slick lower lip. He pushes himself up to look down into Clint’s eyes as his hand slides between their bodies, tracing the muscles of Clint’s abdomen, and those too-blue eyes flutter as the chest beneath Loki heaves. Loki feels Clint’s hips bucking and resists the urge to tease, wrapping his fingers around Clint’s cock and stroking with sure, even movements.
Clint gasps beneath him, eyes now wide open and mouth parted too, breaths escaping in rapid pants, his hips bucking up into Loki’s steady hand. Loki watches him with a smirk. He’s not going to last long.
Loki lets him get closer, lets his gasps grow to near-moans, and then lets go, and the whine Clint releases when he does so makes actually giving him this worth it. Loki hums in satisfaction, and shifts backwards, moving his head lower down Clint’s body. He’s going to fulfil the promise he made to himself; he’s going to take this human body apart.
He doesn’t suck him, not properly, but he takes the head of Clint’s cock in his mouth and twirls his tongue around it teasingly, making Clint whine again. Loki reaches up and strokes his fingers over the damp muscles of Clint’s chest, before digging his nails in and scratching, like he’d wanted all along. Clint gasps and arches his back, and Loki just about makes out his name through the pants, amongst various human curse words. So he does it again, and slides his other hand lower, stroking up the inside of Clint’s thigh and reaching the base of his cock, sliding his fingertips gently up and down his length before slipping back down, even lower, and around, to his ass, to run his fingertips over Clint’s tight hole - not breaching, barely even tickling.
Clint’s hips snap upwards and he gasps out Loki’s name once more, as well as more frantic curse words and lastly, finally, to Loki’s utter satisfaction, a desperate pant of, oh my God yes, and Loki pulls away and sits up and strokes him once, twice, three times more, and Clint’s coming, hips jerking as his orgasm takes him apart before he collapses back on the floor, panting for breath and barely able to open his eyes.
Loki wastes no time in bringing the event to a close, lifting himself back up and waving his hand, redressing himself in an instant as he looks down at Clint, a mess of sweat and piss and come. He smirks yet again and nods once at the human.
“Thank you, Agent Barton.” He pauses, before he sweeps towards the door, not even slightly tempted to look back. “Please clean up after yourself.”
He opens the door and is faced once more with the hustle and bustle of the laboratory, shutting the door behind him and leaving Clint in the near-darkness once more.