Claws Out - Daken/Bullseye - NC-17
Title: Claws Out
Rating: NC-17
Fandom; Pairing: Dark Avengers; Daken/Bullseye
Word Count:1643
Disclaimer: Full disclaimer in my profile. I don't own the story or characters. They belong to Marvel Comics.
Summary: Sex and violence.
“I could kill you like this,” Daken hisses.
“Sure you could,” Lester says. He is still cocky and aggressive even when Daken has his lower claw pressed against his throat. If he only pressed a little harder, Bullseye would be drowning in his own blood. Daken thinks about the sound of that. Lester would probably laugh right over the wet, choking. The smell of it, imagined in Daken’s mind, makes him harder.
“You talk a good game,” Lester mouths off. “Think you can freak me out because you’re a little queer. I know it’s you messing with my head.”
Daken grins. Well, maybe he’s not as stupid as he looks.
“Better men have tried,” Lester tells him and then he leans his head back, the skin of his throat taunt. The tip of one Muramusa tipped claw digs into the skin and draws just the smallest drop of blood. It makes Daken shiver, a full body thing through all his muscles.
And Bullseye, easy, fun prey that he is, is drawing his tongue up one of his claws.
He is in control of this situation. Any catch of his breath, any shiver in his hands, any slight rocking of his hips into nothing, that’s only further proof that he has control.
“Tastes like blood,” Bullseye tells him.
“Of course they do,” Daken says. Not sure if he means because they come out of his skin and there’s just a bit of blood running down his wrist, down his claws maybe, into Lester’s mouth, down to the skin of his throat. Or because they are ferrous and the taste of iron is the taste of blood.
It doesn’t matter, because Bullseye is shifting a little, taking the tip of that claw into his mouth, and sucking on it. Daken can’t feel it, but he loves how Bullseye’s cheeks hollow out and, fuck yes, he wants that to be his cock. He sees the gap in Bullseye’s teeth when he opens his mouth. He admires that; that is dedication to the art. It turns him on, so he forces more of that claw into Bullseye’s mouth, feels the click of the bone against teeth as he tries to fit his claw into that little dark space where the tooth is missing. He feels it up in the bones of his forearms, like he does when he’s dragging his claws through flesh or wood. The parallel claw is scratching Bullseye’s cheek and the smell of blood is so strong from so little. He has to retract the third claw, because like this he’s like to kill Lester and then who would suck his cock?
Daken forces more of his claw into Lester’s mouth, leans forward and licks the sweat from the grooves of his scar. Lester moans. Daken moves in close and grinds against his thigh.
“Suck it, bitch,” he whispers against the skin of Bullseye’s forehead. He hears the click of teeth biting into his claw hard, but he can’t feel it. Then there’s a scraping sound, teeth on metal and bone. It’s a threat. He’d have to be stupid to want to put his dick in that.
But he could have anyone wrapped around his claws and Bullseye, well, fuck, he’s the most interesting prey Daken’s ever found. He fights back.
Bullseye almost doesn’t let go of Daken’s single black claw when he tries to pull it back, not retracting it, but just getting it out of Lester’s mouth so he can undo his fly and crawl up Bullseye broad upper body, get his cock in that mouth.
But there’s fight in him and Daken ends up dragging his claws down Bullseye’s chest just to spite him. It scratches up the Hawkeye costume, but who gives a fuck. Daken loves the tattered look and the smell of blood. He scratches harder.
“Such a little pussy cat,” Lester snarls, grabbing him around the waist and hoisting him up.
Daken really hadn’t expected him to be that strong and he gouges his claws into Bullseye’s flesh as he gets picked up around the hips and carried.
Bullseye drops him onto Daken’s bed with a muffled curse. He presses at one of the puncture wounds with his fingers and the bleeding stills quickly. Daken gets a mouthful of bloody fingers, which he bites down on because of principle, but he still loves the taste.
Lester must hate his costume as much as Daken hates his, because he is literally tearing the blue and purple off of his body, revealing a map of scars, healing wounds, fading bruises, and bright red scratch marks still oozing fresh blood.
Daken is sprawled out luxuriously, legs spread, waiting to get his dick sucked and for a moment it clicks in his mind that Lester is older and bigger and has killed a lot of people and has a spine made out of adamantium. At first that just made him laugh, but then he saw how flexible Bullseye was in battle and he’s been jerking off to the idea of arching that back under his claws and fucking this psycho raw.
“Just so you know,” Bullseye says. “This doesn’t mean anything. I mean, I’m not-“
“Yeah, whatever,” Daken snaps. He let’s Lester undo his fly and watches his eyes go wide with a flare of lust out of nowhere.
“Fucking with my head again.”
“Maybe I’m just that hot,” Daken teases, thrusting up into Bullseye’s hands.
He gets laughed at for that and it makes him laugh too, because he’s got Bullseye right where he wants him.
Daken closes his eyes and reaches out to claw Bullseye’s back to raw meat while he gets a sloppy, enthusiastic blowjob. He enjoys thrusting up at an irregular rhythm just to hear Bullseye curse and gag. He can feel the scrap of teeth and the space where one tooh is missing. Fuck, that’s hot. Because this is someone who can kill people with his mouth and that mouth is around his cock.
“Bet you’re a spitter,” he says, hoarsely.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Bullseye says, pulling away and slicking the same bloody fingers that were in Daken’s mouth a moment before.
“I could kill you with your own load,” he brags, smirking. Daken laughs and then feels spit-slicked fingers thrust into him with no preamble and very little lubrication. It burns and he clamps down against it.
“Ow,” he says. “I didn’t say you could do that!”
He slashes at Bullseye’s neck. Bullseye just laughs.
It’s hot and burning as Bullseye’s fingers stretch him out. A little more spit, a little bit of precum, maybe some blood, but it’s still pretty dry and it’s obvious Bullseye’s never done this before because he’s rough, but he’s clumsy. But his talented hands find Daken’s prostate every fucking time until he’s panting and writhing on the edge and hating it. Hating it, because he was in control of this situation, goddamnit, and now Bullseye is leaning over him with his cock out of those stupid blue tights.
“Fuck,” Daken hisses. And then Bullseye is pulling out his fingers and pushing into Daken too fast. It does hurt, but fuck, it feels so good too and it’s been too long and it’s never been like this. No one would fucking dare to touch him like this. He’d kill them.
“I’ll kill you,” he hisses, pressing the heels of his hands against Bullseye’s throat.
“Go ahead, baby, but you’ll never get off like that,” Bullseye says back, sweetly and condescending.
Daken tries to shove Bullseye off after that, but it just ends up with him on top of the other man, his thighs spread across Bullseye’s hips, big, strong hands on his hips.
Daken scratches him from throat sternum to navel, four jagged, deep lines that drip blood down onto the sheets. It’ll leave scars, a whole new set against all the puckered bullet wounds and spidery surgical scars.
“Come on,” Bullseye is urging him. And he does want it, wants to get off, loves the feeling of someone inside of him, rough, and hands holding him in place.
“Fuck this,” Daken spits out.
There’s no way Bullseye should be able to last this long, not when Daken is pumping out pheromones, knows he is urging Bullseye to come.
“Just get off already,” he hisses.
“Too good,” Bullseye grits out. “I’ll last as long as you do.”
Daken whines, honestly whines, and he is so angry about it that he slams his hips down and stabs his fists into the mattress. He comes with a howl, bone claws slicing into the bed on either side of Bullseye’s head.
“Fuck you,” Daken says, climbing off of Bullseye as fast as he can, even though it hurts.
“Fuck that was too good,” Bullseye replies.
He’s just laying there, sweating and bloody and the whole room smells too much like blood and semen and this man’s sweat. Daken’s body is shaking, betraying him.
“I’m done with you,” he snaps. “Get out.”
“Yeah, sure,” Bullseye says, getting up and being oddly composed about it all. He tucks himself back into those stupid tights and gathers up all the other torn parts of the costume that isn’t really his.
“Hey, maybe next time I’ll actually let you top!” he says, grinning. He goes out the door, leaving Daken with bloody, sweat soaked sheets and a mattress with six little holes in it. The whole room smells like Bullseye’s blood.
“Maybe,” he adds.
Daken throws something at the door, he doesn’t even know what it is, just the first thing in arm’s reach.
“Your aim sucks!” Bullseye shouts from behind the door, then he cracks up.
I am going to fuck him until he bleeds, Daken thinks to himself. Then he smiles to himself and stretches out sore muscles, enjoying the satisfying burn between his legs.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom; Pairing: Dark Avengers; Daken/Bullseye
Word Count:1643
Disclaimer: Full disclaimer in my profile. I don't own the story or characters. They belong to Marvel Comics.
Summary: Sex and violence.
“I could kill you like this,” Daken hisses.
“Sure you could,” Lester says. He is still cocky and aggressive even when Daken has his lower claw pressed against his throat. If he only pressed a little harder, Bullseye would be drowning in his own blood. Daken thinks about the sound of that. Lester would probably laugh right over the wet, choking. The smell of it, imagined in Daken’s mind, makes him harder.
“You talk a good game,” Lester mouths off. “Think you can freak me out because you’re a little queer. I know it’s you messing with my head.”
Daken grins. Well, maybe he’s not as stupid as he looks.
“Better men have tried,” Lester tells him and then he leans his head back, the skin of his throat taunt. The tip of one Muramusa tipped claw digs into the skin and draws just the smallest drop of blood. It makes Daken shiver, a full body thing through all his muscles.
And Bullseye, easy, fun prey that he is, is drawing his tongue up one of his claws.
He is in control of this situation. Any catch of his breath, any shiver in his hands, any slight rocking of his hips into nothing, that’s only further proof that he has control.
“Tastes like blood,” Bullseye tells him.
“Of course they do,” Daken says. Not sure if he means because they come out of his skin and there’s just a bit of blood running down his wrist, down his claws maybe, into Lester’s mouth, down to the skin of his throat. Or because they are ferrous and the taste of iron is the taste of blood.
It doesn’t matter, because Bullseye is shifting a little, taking the tip of that claw into his mouth, and sucking on it. Daken can’t feel it, but he loves how Bullseye’s cheeks hollow out and, fuck yes, he wants that to be his cock. He sees the gap in Bullseye’s teeth when he opens his mouth. He admires that; that is dedication to the art. It turns him on, so he forces more of that claw into Bullseye’s mouth, feels the click of the bone against teeth as he tries to fit his claw into that little dark space where the tooth is missing. He feels it up in the bones of his forearms, like he does when he’s dragging his claws through flesh or wood. The parallel claw is scratching Bullseye’s cheek and the smell of blood is so strong from so little. He has to retract the third claw, because like this he’s like to kill Lester and then who would suck his cock?
Daken forces more of his claw into Lester’s mouth, leans forward and licks the sweat from the grooves of his scar. Lester moans. Daken moves in close and grinds against his thigh.
“Suck it, bitch,” he whispers against the skin of Bullseye’s forehead. He hears the click of teeth biting into his claw hard, but he can’t feel it. Then there’s a scraping sound, teeth on metal and bone. It’s a threat. He’d have to be stupid to want to put his dick in that.
But he could have anyone wrapped around his claws and Bullseye, well, fuck, he’s the most interesting prey Daken’s ever found. He fights back.
Bullseye almost doesn’t let go of Daken’s single black claw when he tries to pull it back, not retracting it, but just getting it out of Lester’s mouth so he can undo his fly and crawl up Bullseye broad upper body, get his cock in that mouth.
But there’s fight in him and Daken ends up dragging his claws down Bullseye’s chest just to spite him. It scratches up the Hawkeye costume, but who gives a fuck. Daken loves the tattered look and the smell of blood. He scratches harder.
“Such a little pussy cat,” Lester snarls, grabbing him around the waist and hoisting him up.
Daken really hadn’t expected him to be that strong and he gouges his claws into Bullseye’s flesh as he gets picked up around the hips and carried.
Bullseye drops him onto Daken’s bed with a muffled curse. He presses at one of the puncture wounds with his fingers and the bleeding stills quickly. Daken gets a mouthful of bloody fingers, which he bites down on because of principle, but he still loves the taste.
Lester must hate his costume as much as Daken hates his, because he is literally tearing the blue and purple off of his body, revealing a map of scars, healing wounds, fading bruises, and bright red scratch marks still oozing fresh blood.
Daken is sprawled out luxuriously, legs spread, waiting to get his dick sucked and for a moment it clicks in his mind that Lester is older and bigger and has killed a lot of people and has a spine made out of adamantium. At first that just made him laugh, but then he saw how flexible Bullseye was in battle and he’s been jerking off to the idea of arching that back under his claws and fucking this psycho raw.
“Just so you know,” Bullseye says. “This doesn’t mean anything. I mean, I’m not-“
“Yeah, whatever,” Daken snaps. He let’s Lester undo his fly and watches his eyes go wide with a flare of lust out of nowhere.
“Fucking with my head again.”
“Maybe I’m just that hot,” Daken teases, thrusting up into Bullseye’s hands.
He gets laughed at for that and it makes him laugh too, because he’s got Bullseye right where he wants him.
Daken closes his eyes and reaches out to claw Bullseye’s back to raw meat while he gets a sloppy, enthusiastic blowjob. He enjoys thrusting up at an irregular rhythm just to hear Bullseye curse and gag. He can feel the scrap of teeth and the space where one tooh is missing. Fuck, that’s hot. Because this is someone who can kill people with his mouth and that mouth is around his cock.
“Bet you’re a spitter,” he says, hoarsely.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Bullseye says, pulling away and slicking the same bloody fingers that were in Daken’s mouth a moment before.
“I could kill you with your own load,” he brags, smirking. Daken laughs and then feels spit-slicked fingers thrust into him with no preamble and very little lubrication. It burns and he clamps down against it.
“Ow,” he says. “I didn’t say you could do that!”
He slashes at Bullseye’s neck. Bullseye just laughs.
It’s hot and burning as Bullseye’s fingers stretch him out. A little more spit, a little bit of precum, maybe some blood, but it’s still pretty dry and it’s obvious Bullseye’s never done this before because he’s rough, but he’s clumsy. But his talented hands find Daken’s prostate every fucking time until he’s panting and writhing on the edge and hating it. Hating it, because he was in control of this situation, goddamnit, and now Bullseye is leaning over him with his cock out of those stupid blue tights.
“Fuck,” Daken hisses. And then Bullseye is pulling out his fingers and pushing into Daken too fast. It does hurt, but fuck, it feels so good too and it’s been too long and it’s never been like this. No one would fucking dare to touch him like this. He’d kill them.
“I’ll kill you,” he hisses, pressing the heels of his hands against Bullseye’s throat.
“Go ahead, baby, but you’ll never get off like that,” Bullseye says back, sweetly and condescending.
Daken tries to shove Bullseye off after that, but it just ends up with him on top of the other man, his thighs spread across Bullseye’s hips, big, strong hands on his hips.
Daken scratches him from throat sternum to navel, four jagged, deep lines that drip blood down onto the sheets. It’ll leave scars, a whole new set against all the puckered bullet wounds and spidery surgical scars.
“Come on,” Bullseye is urging him. And he does want it, wants to get off, loves the feeling of someone inside of him, rough, and hands holding him in place.
“Fuck this,” Daken spits out.
There’s no way Bullseye should be able to last this long, not when Daken is pumping out pheromones, knows he is urging Bullseye to come.
“Just get off already,” he hisses.
“Too good,” Bullseye grits out. “I’ll last as long as you do.”
Daken whines, honestly whines, and he is so angry about it that he slams his hips down and stabs his fists into the mattress. He comes with a howl, bone claws slicing into the bed on either side of Bullseye’s head.
“Fuck you,” Daken says, climbing off of Bullseye as fast as he can, even though it hurts.
“Fuck that was too good,” Bullseye replies.
He’s just laying there, sweating and bloody and the whole room smells too much like blood and semen and this man’s sweat. Daken’s body is shaking, betraying him.
“I’m done with you,” he snaps. “Get out.”
“Yeah, sure,” Bullseye says, getting up and being oddly composed about it all. He tucks himself back into those stupid tights and gathers up all the other torn parts of the costume that isn’t really his.
“Hey, maybe next time I’ll actually let you top!” he says, grinning. He goes out the door, leaving Daken with bloody, sweat soaked sheets and a mattress with six little holes in it. The whole room smells like Bullseye’s blood.
“Maybe,” he adds.
Daken throws something at the door, he doesn’t even know what it is, just the first thing in arm’s reach.
“Your aim sucks!” Bullseye shouts from behind the door, then he cracks up.
I am going to fuck him until he bleeds, Daken thinks to himself. Then he smiles to himself and stretches out sore muscles, enjoying the satisfying burn between his legs.