Steam
Title: Steam
Fandom: the Marvel Universe
Rating: no one under 18. lots of hot, steamy man sex. and some swearing.
Warning: slash. seriously hot slash. steamy slash. fucking awesome slash. did i mention the slash?
Disclaimer: i do not own either Steve or Clint. they're owned by Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm just borrowing them to play and promise to put them back. sometime. really. oh, not making money off this. no, really. i'm not.
Author's Notes: this idea came from Daz. kind of a not belonging to anything else fic to see if the brain still works. i may have taken liberty with Steve here. i'm not sure. if i did, forgive me.
The training room echoed with the sounds of fists hitting flesh, of muffled grunts and groans, of bodies slamming against the mats. Music played in the background, some all girl group that had been popular back in the forties. Steve always had something like that playing when they spared. At first, when he'd started sparring with Captain America, those music choices had bugged him to no end. Now that he'd grown used to that music, it was something of a comfort to have the soft strains of the Andrews Sisters or the brassy sounds of Glen Miller playing while he routinely got his ass kicked around.
Despite the fact that Clint had been sparring with him for years, Steve never failed to come out tops in any match they had. And while it was obvious that the other man was pulling his punches, carefully watching his strength, it was still damned hard to get a good shot in. That didn't mean the archer didn't keep trying.
The song changed, slipping from Rum and Coca Cola to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy so smoothly that Clint barely noticed it. Nearly all of his attention was focused on the man only a few feet from him, on the moves he made with his body. He was trying hard to ignore the glistening drops of sweat that rolled down Steve's tanned chest and the way the muscles in his abs rippled and shifted with each of his moves.
It was like this every time they sparred together.
At first, when Clint really started to notice, he chalked it up to some kind of deep awe or something. Seriously, how many people got to train like he did with the very man who symbolized everything great about their country. About heroes. But after years had passed and the feelings had remained, had, in fact, grown and blossomed into some dark flower of unnamed desire, he'd ended these sessions with a quick hand job in the shower, then a night out on the town. It didn't matter what woman he went home with, what woman he spent the night burying himself in, his mind never quite pushed those enticing and illicit images from it.
Because of those thoughts, because he just couldn't stop himself from thinking of Steve stripped totally naked and covered with suds as he soaped up in the shower, Clint forced himself to concentrate on the moves. On the next strike. On the next attack. On the movement of his arms and legs as he drove forward.
Time fell away as the two of them fell into rhythm that reminded the archer of a graceful and violent dance. His arms and legs moved to block blows, to attempt his own strikes. Once in a while, he landed a fist against the meaty, well shaped slope of Steve's pectoral or his foot would catch the hard edge of Steve's thigh muscle. He was definitely not thinking about anything hidden by the baggy sweats the other man was wearing.
Some twenty minutes later, Clint found himself covered in sweat and flat on his back on the mats. His chest heaved from the exertion and he was fairly certain he could feel bruises coming up. "You weren't paying attention, Clint. What's her name?" Steve asked, shooting him a grin that kicked the pace of his heart into overdrive.
Clint offered him his patented devil may care smile and shook his head. "You know I never kiss and tell."
"I'm not going to tell anyone if you do." This time, he was gifted the boy next door smile that had won the hearts of millions. Steve held his hand out, a silent offer to pull Clint to his feet. The archer put his hand in Cap's and allowed the other man to bring him to a standing position. The heat of the man's palm pressed against his own shot bolts of fire through his body and every single one of them met up in his groin. Damn it. He hoped his sweats were loose enough.
"I'm going to go shower. Don't want to stink for my date," Clint told him. Rogers nodded at him before turning away. Clint strode from the room, intent on a shower and some alone time with his hand.
He and Steve were the only two down in the sub-basements, the only two sparring. Everyone else had claimed other appointments that required their attention. As far as Clint knew, he and Steve were the only ones in the mansion at the moment. He didn't have to worry about someone walking in on him while he was jerking off in the shower. That was something he didn't want to have to explain to anyone.
The sound of water hitting the tiles echoed loudly in the empty bathroom. Clint left his clothes where they fell and stepped into the spray. The water was warm and mingled with the beads of sweat that still clung to his shoulders. He ducked his head under the shower head, bracing his hands against the wall. For long moments, he stood there with his eyes closed and let the day's training session play across his mind.
Steve, glistening with sweat. Steve, barely winded after half an hour of blows and kicks. Steve, laughing and smiling at some joke. Steve, standing over him and looking too fucking fuckable for words. Steve, hand warm and enticing in his own. Clint's cock jumped with the memories, filled until it hurt and ached for the touch of a hand. Any hand. Even his own. Reaching out, he snagged the soap and rubbed it between his hands.
The feel of his palm, coated in soap, saw his eyes slipping shut. The conflicting sensations of smooth, slippery soap paired with warm, calloused heat brought a soft moan up his throat and sent a shudder down his spine. He pressed his free hand against the wall and leaned into it while his fist slid up the rigid length of his erection.
With his eyes closed, he could pretend that it wasn't him. With his eyes closed, he could make believe that Steve was standing behind him, hard body pressed tightly against his back. One of those perfectly formed hands was gliding up and down his length. The heat of the other man's body inflamed his senses. And the soft whisper of Rogers' voice against his ear saw his hips snapping into the first curled around his dick.
How many times had he imagined just this thing? How many times had he been lost in the fantasies that crowded his fevered brain? He moved his hand slowly, stroking up and down with firm strokes that saw him hissing and groaning. His hips snapped into his touch.
Fantasy rolled out before him, filled his mind with images of Steve naked and hard for him. Of the two of them twined around one another. Filled him with the ghostly feel of the other man's cock. Another groan rumbled up out of his throat and he applied his hand just a little faster.
"Nice ass."
The comment brought him out of his reverie. Well, if this wasn't embarrassing. Clint glanced over his shoulder and found Steve standing there. Staring at him. Naked. Sweaty.
Hard.
Clint could only stare.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Uh..."
"I'll take that as a yes." Steve stepped into the stall behind him and pulled the door closed. "Turn around. I want to see if the front matches the rest of the package."
"Uh..."
"Do you honestly think I missed the way you've been looking at me?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest and cocked a golden brow at Clint. "I know that you've been concentrating very hard on the training sessions. Too hard. I know something is going on up there." One finger reached out and tapped against Clint's head. "There's a reason why we're here alone."
"Uh..."
Steve sighed and reached out with one hand. His fingers closed Clint's mouth even as a smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. Just the minor touch had his blood pounding in his brain. He had to fight to keep from pressing his skin against Steve's. But then the other man was sliding his hand up the side of Clint's face, letting his fingers spear into the water logged locks plastered to his head. Steve fingers curled around Clint's hair and urged his head forward. Fantasy broke into and became reality the moment the man's lips found his own.
Steve tasted of sweat and promise. The tip of his tongue traced lightly across the seam of Clint's lips. That single touch saw the archer open his mouth on a sigh. Steve took advantage and slid his tongue inside. Liquid heat rushed through the archer's body, prompting him to turn into Steve's arms. The other man wrapped Clint in his embrace and tugged him closer until their bodies were pressed tightly up against one another.
Water pounded against his back, slid down the line of his spine to trickle between his ass cheeks and flow over them like a stream tumbling over rocks in its bed. The feel of all that hard flesh molded to his made his nerves tingle with need. Clint wrapped his arms around the other man, let his hands map the graceful arc of his shoulder blades while Steve's tongue dipped and probed as deeply as it could. There was even a hint of that same promise on the man's tongue, a promise of wicked desires once little more than hidden fantasies that would be given life. Here.
Now.
When he couldn't breathe anymore, when his head was so filled with soft, fluffy cotton and hard, steely cock, Steve pulled back and smiled at Clint. He pulled away, leaving the archer feeling suddenly very unfocused and unbalanced. Piercing blue eyes raked slowly up and down Clint's body, following the path of a single droplet as it beaded up on his shoulder. Rolled down his chest to catch on his nipple and hang for a second. Dripped down to land on his abdomen. A sharp breath and a quiver saw the droplet change course and move inward. Circled his belly button before rolling down into the nest of curls that topped his cock.
Clint thought he'd come right then and there when those eyes, those piercing eyes, trailed after another single water drop as it started at the head of his cock, raced down the shaft until it met with his balls. Steve pursed his lips. "I knew your front would be as perfect as your back. I've been thinking about this moment all night long."
Clint blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Fuck me."
"That's the plan." Just the thought of Captain America, the proverbial boy next door, thinking dirty thoughts about him was... well, dirty. "I'm glad that we sparred. I like the look of you all wet and hard. You don't know how hard it was not to just jump you in the training room."
"Is this like foreplay for you? Are you trying to make me blow my load before we even do anything?" Gone was the shock at the idea that Steve Rogers was, at the least, bi-sexual. Gone was the surprise at being caught so unaware. His brain once more his own, Clint had the ability to think. And to process. And to admire.
The man was all muscle. Nothing new, but seeing him out of his sweats brought that point home so deeply that there was no way Clint would ever be able to look at him again without seeing him like this. Wet and hard and so fucking hot.
Some of the water pelted Steve's chest, leaving droplets clinging to his shoulders. His arms. His nipples. God, but he wanted to lean in and lick those droplets away. He wanted to find out if Steve's skin tasted the same as his kiss, like sweat and promises. But he couldn't allow that to happen. Not until he understood what this was. Not until he knew what was happening between them. "Steve..." he began, but stopped. How was he supposed to put this without sounding like a chick? "What is this between us? What's going on here?"
"It isn't just something casual, Clint. I want more than sex with you. But it isn't something we're going to advertise, either. Anything that happens between you and I is private." There was a gentle warning in the man's words. Clint nodded in understanding. There was no reason to discuss what they did with anyone.
"So as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm still out chasing women." He made it more statement than question, but Steve nodded anyway. Clint let his gaze glide over all of that bared skin again, eyes lingering longer than necessary on the man's obvious interest, before once more looking Steve in the eyes. "Am I still chasing women?"
"One step at a time, Clint."
"That's about the exact distance between you and I at the moment," Clint grinned at the other man. "Coincidence? I think not."
He closed the distance, moving forward that one step so that his body was once more rubbing against Steve's. They wrapped their arms around one another as their mouths met in another kiss. This time, there was a hint of dominance and control in Steve's lips as they moved over Clint's. But he didn't care. All he could think of was the feel of the other man's cock rubbing against his own.
Oh, God. Steve was going to fuck him. He was going to bury his cock in Clint's ass and fuck him. His entire body trembled in anticipation. The groan that rolled up his throat was lost in the other man's mouth. The excitement, the anticipation, was going to kill him. He broke from Steve, tore his mouth away but sent his hands moving slowly across the other man's skin. "Steve, man. You're killing me. I've fantasized about this for so long that I don't think I can stand it much longer. I need you inside of me. Now. We can be all touchy feely later, if that's what you want. I'll even tell you things you think you want to know. But please. Just shove me up against the wall and fuck me. I need..."
His words died at the predatory look that slinked through Steve's eyes. And the man's cock twitched. It twitched. Eagerly. It wanted the same thing that Clint wanted. Steve turned and picked up something that had been on the floor of the stall by the door. Clint knew the small foil square for what it was. He plucked the package from Steve's hand and ripped it open.
Without a word, Clint pulled the condom from the wrapper and reached for his target. Steve didn't move, simply stood there and watched as one of Clint's hands curled around his cock and gave it a squeeze. Rogers' sucked in a hissing breath but otherwise didn't move. In fact, if anything, his eyes darkened in response to Clint's actions. Emboldened, Clint tossed him a smirk, then made sure Steve could see it when he positioned the condom between his lips. That earned him a quirked brow.
He dropped into a kneel slowly, positioning himself before Steve. His hand still on the other man's cock, he drew it away from his body, then leaned in and fit the condom over the head of Steve's erection. There was another hiss of breath and Clint felt tension zing through the other man's body. Smiling, he inched his way down the length of the shaft in his mouth, carefully unrolling the condom until it covered the entire length. When he pulled back, Steve was nearly gasping for breath.
"I don't even want to know where you learned to do that." Steve turned back and picked up one other item. A tube of lubricant. When he faced Clint once more, that predatory look had returned. "Back against the wall, Barton. I want to see the look on your face when I bury myself inside of you."
"Jesus Christ, Steve. How long have you talked dirty?" Clint shuddered, then put his back to the wall like he'd been told. Steve stepped in close and took the archer's mouth in a fast, hard kiss that sent flames of need roaring through his veins.
"A lot longer than you have. Now spread those legs." Steve was busy unscrewing the cap from the tube.
Clint did as he was told, spreading his thighs so that it would be easy to get a finger or five up into his ass. Much as he wanted this, he wasn't about to let Steve fuck him dry. Maybe he liked a little pain now and then, but he wasn't a masochist. Steve leaned into him again, his mouth zeroing in on the pulsing vein on the side of Clint's neck. As he did so, one of his hands slipped between the man's thighs and gently prodded at the puckered ring of muscle with a single finger.
The finger slid in easily, stroked in and out to help loosen the muscles in his ass. Apparently Steve had done this before. A second finger joined the first, thrust and scissored and stretched. Clint moaned like the shameless two dollar whore he'd been accused of being, his hips rolling automatically. His cock twitched in response. God above, Steve was killing him.
"Almost ready. Just hang on for a little while longer." Steve's voice was a soft brush of sound that was all sex and perversity. His fingers slipped out of Clint's ass, drawing a small sound of disappointment and a pout from him. Steve chuckled softly. His hand returned, his fingers stroking lightly against Clint's anus. Two tips pressed past the ring again, stopping when they were just inside. They spread wide, opening his ass up. Before Clint could figure out what he was doing, he felt the slick surface of the tube gliding into him. "Flex those ass muscles. And keep them tight."
Who the hell knew that Steve Rogers was such a dirty old man? Clint happily did as he was told. squeezing his ass down around the tube. He was filled with the sensation of something wet and cold. With his muscles still clenched, Steve pulled the tube from his ass, leaving a thick layer of lube behind.
"Don't loosen up until I'm ready." Dirty and dominant. Clint wanted to come just on that alone. He watched as Steve squeezed lube out onto the condom, then wrapped his fist about his cock and stroked up and down. He repeated the action three more times before he was satisfied that he was slick enough. Then he stepped forward. "Wrap your legs around my waist."
"Yes, sir." Clint lifted one leg, then the other, hooking his feet behind Steve's back. His hands found a place on the man's shoulders while his back remained pressed up against the wall. Steve planted one hand against the wall while the other took hold of his erection. It was a quick, erotic dance that saw Steve's condom wrapped cock pressed up against Clint's ass. A single, short thrust saw the head of his dick inside of Clint's body. It was a tight fit. He moaned loudly and told his body to relax.
Steve slowly and carefully fed his length into Clint, moving only a scant centimeter at a time. If the snail's pace put a strain on him, it didn't show. Clint, being a mere mortal, had already closed his eyes and panted like a bitch in heat. He wanted to tell Steve to stop dicking around, to thrust himself inside and start fucking. But Steve had super strength to go with that super stamina. He didn't want to be bleeding out his ass for a month to come.
It felt as if it took a year for Rogers to bury himself as completely as he could inside Clint's ass. When he was done, he leaned forward and found Clint's mouth, kissed him with his lips and his tongue while his hands shifted to take hold of Clint's ass. When Steve pulled back, it was to press his mouth against the shell of Clint's ear so that he could whisper all manner of dirty things into it. If Steve didn't stop, Clint was going to come just from the dirty talk alone.
Eventually, the spasms that rippled through his muscles slowed and stopped. The walls of his ass clung to Steve's cock without gripping it so tightly that a single move would rip him to shreds. "I'm going to fuck you now, Clint. I'm going to fuck you long and hard. After that, I'll probably fuck you some more."
Steve drew back until the head of his cock verged on falling out. He pushed himself back in, a long, slow stroke that drew a strangle cry from Clint's lips. The friction was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt in his life. The sweetest thing. Pure bliss blossomed in the pit of his belly and quickly spread out into all of his limbs, up into his head until his brain was fogged with need and desire and lust. Every cell tingled with a heady combination of sweet sensation and forbidden passion.
Steve's hands were so strong. They cupped Clint's ass and held him while their hips rocked against one another. The man whispered things Clint never thought he'd hear come from Captain America's lips, dirty and sexy things that fed the fire burning in his belly. Clint moaned and groaned, clenched his ass muscles down around Steve's cock tight. Occasionally, their mouths met and clashed. Kisses became tiny battles that claimed no one as victor.
The tension was building, growing and expanding until it felt as if Clint's skin would have to split to let it all out. His fingers dug into Steve's flesh while his hips began snapping out a rapid, staccato rhythm that said he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Steve stopped, his cock buried inside Clint's ass, and drew back so that he could look the other man in the face. Clint blinked at him, his body suddenly lost without the barrage of sensation. "I can tell you need to get off. Fist yourself. I want to see you wearing your own junk."
"Keep talking to me like that and I won't need to touch myself. If anyone knew you had such a dirty mouth..." Clint trailed off at the look on Steve's face. Of course he wasn't about to tell anyone. This was something he planned on keeping to himself. But if anyone else really knew what the man was like... Holy shit! When Steve cocked a brow at him, Clint removed one hand from the man's shoulders and brought it down between them so he could grip his cock.
His body tensed and shuddered at the touch before his hand fell into an old, well known rhythm. The friction provided by his palm saw his eyes slipping closed, but not before he caught sight of Steve watching his hand with avid fascination.
It was pure hell to have the man's cock buried in his ass without it moving. His hips shifted with each stroke, resulting in the smallest amount of friction that only enhanced the pleasure rushing through him. Steve continued to whisper things to him, dirty things that belonged only to him, pushing his need higher and higher. The knot in his belly tightened until it hurt. His balls tightened while his cock twitched. And then he was flying.
Clint barked out a cry of completion, his hand jerking hard on his length in order to milk every last ounce of his orgasm from him. The evidence of his release splashed against his chest, splattered the underside of his chin. Through it all, Steve held him and whispered dirty little nothings to him. Body spent and tingling, Clint was glad for the wall behind him and the other man's hands holding him. If this wasn't the time to have a cigarette and a shot of whiskey, he didn't know when was.
Panting softly, he pried his eyes open to find that Steve was still watching him. But only for a moment. In a heartbeat, he had Clint pressed tightly to the wall, his hands splayed across the tile on either side of him, The look on the man's face suggested that watching Clint come had pushed him farther over the edge than either of them had expected.
Rogers drew his cock back, then pressed it forward. Fast and hard. His pace said that he wouldn't stop this time. Not until he'd pumped the rubber full of himself. His hips churned, slapping hard against Clint's body as he thrust himself in and pulled out. This time, it was Clint who muttered dirty things, Clint who encouraged and begged. And when Steve finally came, when the man had thoroughly spent himself, the two of them stood pressed against one another, gasping for air.
Slowly, with great care, Steve disentangled himself from Clint. The water was going cold, but it was okay to rinse the ribbons of pearly white fluid from Clint's chest and the remainder of the lube from his ass and thighs. Steve recapped the lube and washed it. The archer shut off the water. When he was done an faced the door to the stall, Steve had already gotten rid of the used condom and its wrapper. He was watching Clint silently.
The two of them stared at one another for a moment or two, then came together in a heated kiss that involved much use of their tongues. At the same time, their hands raked and skimmed over one another, exploring and learning every shape and contour they could find. God, he could get lost in the touch of the man's hands, the taste of his mouth. But before he lost his head, Steve pulled back and struggled for breath. "No more tonight. Someone is bound to return soon."
"Right. Don't need them walking in on this." Together, they exited the stall and went for the towels pilled on a bench. Clint was in the middle of toweling his hair when Steve's voice caught his attention.
"We'll have to spar again soon. You're getting soft, Clint. Next week. Same time. And be prepared, because I'm going to kick your ass."
"Don't you mean fuck it?" Clint asked, feigning innocence. His question earned him a smile and a heated look from the other man.
"Yeah. That, too."
Fandom: the Marvel Universe
Rating: no one under 18. lots of hot, steamy man sex. and some swearing.
Warning: slash. seriously hot slash. steamy slash. fucking awesome slash. did i mention the slash?
Disclaimer: i do not own either Steve or Clint. they're owned by Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm just borrowing them to play and promise to put them back. sometime. really. oh, not making money off this. no, really. i'm not.
Author's Notes: this idea came from Daz. kind of a not belonging to anything else fic to see if the brain still works. i may have taken liberty with Steve here. i'm not sure. if i did, forgive me.
The training room echoed with the sounds of fists hitting flesh, of muffled grunts and groans, of bodies slamming against the mats. Music played in the background, some all girl group that had been popular back in the forties. Steve always had something like that playing when they spared. At first, when he'd started sparring with Captain America, those music choices had bugged him to no end. Now that he'd grown used to that music, it was something of a comfort to have the soft strains of the Andrews Sisters or the brassy sounds of Glen Miller playing while he routinely got his ass kicked around.
Despite the fact that Clint had been sparring with him for years, Steve never failed to come out tops in any match they had. And while it was obvious that the other man was pulling his punches, carefully watching his strength, it was still damned hard to get a good shot in. That didn't mean the archer didn't keep trying.
The song changed, slipping from Rum and Coca Cola to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy so smoothly that Clint barely noticed it. Nearly all of his attention was focused on the man only a few feet from him, on the moves he made with his body. He was trying hard to ignore the glistening drops of sweat that rolled down Steve's tanned chest and the way the muscles in his abs rippled and shifted with each of his moves.
It was like this every time they sparred together.
At first, when Clint really started to notice, he chalked it up to some kind of deep awe or something. Seriously, how many people got to train like he did with the very man who symbolized everything great about their country. About heroes. But after years had passed and the feelings had remained, had, in fact, grown and blossomed into some dark flower of unnamed desire, he'd ended these sessions with a quick hand job in the shower, then a night out on the town. It didn't matter what woman he went home with, what woman he spent the night burying himself in, his mind never quite pushed those enticing and illicit images from it.
Because of those thoughts, because he just couldn't stop himself from thinking of Steve stripped totally naked and covered with suds as he soaped up in the shower, Clint forced himself to concentrate on the moves. On the next strike. On the next attack. On the movement of his arms and legs as he drove forward.
Time fell away as the two of them fell into rhythm that reminded the archer of a graceful and violent dance. His arms and legs moved to block blows, to attempt his own strikes. Once in a while, he landed a fist against the meaty, well shaped slope of Steve's pectoral or his foot would catch the hard edge of Steve's thigh muscle. He was definitely not thinking about anything hidden by the baggy sweats the other man was wearing.
Some twenty minutes later, Clint found himself covered in sweat and flat on his back on the mats. His chest heaved from the exertion and he was fairly certain he could feel bruises coming up. "You weren't paying attention, Clint. What's her name?" Steve asked, shooting him a grin that kicked the pace of his heart into overdrive.
Clint offered him his patented devil may care smile and shook his head. "You know I never kiss and tell."
"I'm not going to tell anyone if you do." This time, he was gifted the boy next door smile that had won the hearts of millions. Steve held his hand out, a silent offer to pull Clint to his feet. The archer put his hand in Cap's and allowed the other man to bring him to a standing position. The heat of the man's palm pressed against his own shot bolts of fire through his body and every single one of them met up in his groin. Damn it. He hoped his sweats were loose enough.
"I'm going to go shower. Don't want to stink for my date," Clint told him. Rogers nodded at him before turning away. Clint strode from the room, intent on a shower and some alone time with his hand.
He and Steve were the only two down in the sub-basements, the only two sparring. Everyone else had claimed other appointments that required their attention. As far as Clint knew, he and Steve were the only ones in the mansion at the moment. He didn't have to worry about someone walking in on him while he was jerking off in the shower. That was something he didn't want to have to explain to anyone.
The sound of water hitting the tiles echoed loudly in the empty bathroom. Clint left his clothes where they fell and stepped into the spray. The water was warm and mingled with the beads of sweat that still clung to his shoulders. He ducked his head under the shower head, bracing his hands against the wall. For long moments, he stood there with his eyes closed and let the day's training session play across his mind.
Steve, glistening with sweat. Steve, barely winded after half an hour of blows and kicks. Steve, laughing and smiling at some joke. Steve, standing over him and looking too fucking fuckable for words. Steve, hand warm and enticing in his own. Clint's cock jumped with the memories, filled until it hurt and ached for the touch of a hand. Any hand. Even his own. Reaching out, he snagged the soap and rubbed it between his hands.
The feel of his palm, coated in soap, saw his eyes slipping shut. The conflicting sensations of smooth, slippery soap paired with warm, calloused heat brought a soft moan up his throat and sent a shudder down his spine. He pressed his free hand against the wall and leaned into it while his fist slid up the rigid length of his erection.
With his eyes closed, he could pretend that it wasn't him. With his eyes closed, he could make believe that Steve was standing behind him, hard body pressed tightly against his back. One of those perfectly formed hands was gliding up and down his length. The heat of the other man's body inflamed his senses. And the soft whisper of Rogers' voice against his ear saw his hips snapping into the first curled around his dick.
How many times had he imagined just this thing? How many times had he been lost in the fantasies that crowded his fevered brain? He moved his hand slowly, stroking up and down with firm strokes that saw him hissing and groaning. His hips snapped into his touch.
Fantasy rolled out before him, filled his mind with images of Steve naked and hard for him. Of the two of them twined around one another. Filled him with the ghostly feel of the other man's cock. Another groan rumbled up out of his throat and he applied his hand just a little faster.
"Nice ass."
The comment brought him out of his reverie. Well, if this wasn't embarrassing. Clint glanced over his shoulder and found Steve standing there. Staring at him. Naked. Sweaty.
Hard.
Clint could only stare.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Uh..."
"I'll take that as a yes." Steve stepped into the stall behind him and pulled the door closed. "Turn around. I want to see if the front matches the rest of the package."
"Uh..."
"Do you honestly think I missed the way you've been looking at me?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest and cocked a golden brow at Clint. "I know that you've been concentrating very hard on the training sessions. Too hard. I know something is going on up there." One finger reached out and tapped against Clint's head. "There's a reason why we're here alone."
"Uh..."
Steve sighed and reached out with one hand. His fingers closed Clint's mouth even as a smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. Just the minor touch had his blood pounding in his brain. He had to fight to keep from pressing his skin against Steve's. But then the other man was sliding his hand up the side of Clint's face, letting his fingers spear into the water logged locks plastered to his head. Steve fingers curled around Clint's hair and urged his head forward. Fantasy broke into and became reality the moment the man's lips found his own.
Steve tasted of sweat and promise. The tip of his tongue traced lightly across the seam of Clint's lips. That single touch saw the archer open his mouth on a sigh. Steve took advantage and slid his tongue inside. Liquid heat rushed through the archer's body, prompting him to turn into Steve's arms. The other man wrapped Clint in his embrace and tugged him closer until their bodies were pressed tightly up against one another.
Water pounded against his back, slid down the line of his spine to trickle between his ass cheeks and flow over them like a stream tumbling over rocks in its bed. The feel of all that hard flesh molded to his made his nerves tingle with need. Clint wrapped his arms around the other man, let his hands map the graceful arc of his shoulder blades while Steve's tongue dipped and probed as deeply as it could. There was even a hint of that same promise on the man's tongue, a promise of wicked desires once little more than hidden fantasies that would be given life. Here.
Now.
When he couldn't breathe anymore, when his head was so filled with soft, fluffy cotton and hard, steely cock, Steve pulled back and smiled at Clint. He pulled away, leaving the archer feeling suddenly very unfocused and unbalanced. Piercing blue eyes raked slowly up and down Clint's body, following the path of a single droplet as it beaded up on his shoulder. Rolled down his chest to catch on his nipple and hang for a second. Dripped down to land on his abdomen. A sharp breath and a quiver saw the droplet change course and move inward. Circled his belly button before rolling down into the nest of curls that topped his cock.
Clint thought he'd come right then and there when those eyes, those piercing eyes, trailed after another single water drop as it started at the head of his cock, raced down the shaft until it met with his balls. Steve pursed his lips. "I knew your front would be as perfect as your back. I've been thinking about this moment all night long."
Clint blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Fuck me."
"That's the plan." Just the thought of Captain America, the proverbial boy next door, thinking dirty thoughts about him was... well, dirty. "I'm glad that we sparred. I like the look of you all wet and hard. You don't know how hard it was not to just jump you in the training room."
"Is this like foreplay for you? Are you trying to make me blow my load before we even do anything?" Gone was the shock at the idea that Steve Rogers was, at the least, bi-sexual. Gone was the surprise at being caught so unaware. His brain once more his own, Clint had the ability to think. And to process. And to admire.
The man was all muscle. Nothing new, but seeing him out of his sweats brought that point home so deeply that there was no way Clint would ever be able to look at him again without seeing him like this. Wet and hard and so fucking hot.
Some of the water pelted Steve's chest, leaving droplets clinging to his shoulders. His arms. His nipples. God, but he wanted to lean in and lick those droplets away. He wanted to find out if Steve's skin tasted the same as his kiss, like sweat and promises. But he couldn't allow that to happen. Not until he understood what this was. Not until he knew what was happening between them. "Steve..." he began, but stopped. How was he supposed to put this without sounding like a chick? "What is this between us? What's going on here?"
"It isn't just something casual, Clint. I want more than sex with you. But it isn't something we're going to advertise, either. Anything that happens between you and I is private." There was a gentle warning in the man's words. Clint nodded in understanding. There was no reason to discuss what they did with anyone.
"So as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm still out chasing women." He made it more statement than question, but Steve nodded anyway. Clint let his gaze glide over all of that bared skin again, eyes lingering longer than necessary on the man's obvious interest, before once more looking Steve in the eyes. "Am I still chasing women?"
"One step at a time, Clint."
"That's about the exact distance between you and I at the moment," Clint grinned at the other man. "Coincidence? I think not."
He closed the distance, moving forward that one step so that his body was once more rubbing against Steve's. They wrapped their arms around one another as their mouths met in another kiss. This time, there was a hint of dominance and control in Steve's lips as they moved over Clint's. But he didn't care. All he could think of was the feel of the other man's cock rubbing against his own.
Oh, God. Steve was going to fuck him. He was going to bury his cock in Clint's ass and fuck him. His entire body trembled in anticipation. The groan that rolled up his throat was lost in the other man's mouth. The excitement, the anticipation, was going to kill him. He broke from Steve, tore his mouth away but sent his hands moving slowly across the other man's skin. "Steve, man. You're killing me. I've fantasized about this for so long that I don't think I can stand it much longer. I need you inside of me. Now. We can be all touchy feely later, if that's what you want. I'll even tell you things you think you want to know. But please. Just shove me up against the wall and fuck me. I need..."
His words died at the predatory look that slinked through Steve's eyes. And the man's cock twitched. It twitched. Eagerly. It wanted the same thing that Clint wanted. Steve turned and picked up something that had been on the floor of the stall by the door. Clint knew the small foil square for what it was. He plucked the package from Steve's hand and ripped it open.
Without a word, Clint pulled the condom from the wrapper and reached for his target. Steve didn't move, simply stood there and watched as one of Clint's hands curled around his cock and gave it a squeeze. Rogers' sucked in a hissing breath but otherwise didn't move. In fact, if anything, his eyes darkened in response to Clint's actions. Emboldened, Clint tossed him a smirk, then made sure Steve could see it when he positioned the condom between his lips. That earned him a quirked brow.
He dropped into a kneel slowly, positioning himself before Steve. His hand still on the other man's cock, he drew it away from his body, then leaned in and fit the condom over the head of Steve's erection. There was another hiss of breath and Clint felt tension zing through the other man's body. Smiling, he inched his way down the length of the shaft in his mouth, carefully unrolling the condom until it covered the entire length. When he pulled back, Steve was nearly gasping for breath.
"I don't even want to know where you learned to do that." Steve turned back and picked up one other item. A tube of lubricant. When he faced Clint once more, that predatory look had returned. "Back against the wall, Barton. I want to see the look on your face when I bury myself inside of you."
"Jesus Christ, Steve. How long have you talked dirty?" Clint shuddered, then put his back to the wall like he'd been told. Steve stepped in close and took the archer's mouth in a fast, hard kiss that sent flames of need roaring through his veins.
"A lot longer than you have. Now spread those legs." Steve was busy unscrewing the cap from the tube.
Clint did as he was told, spreading his thighs so that it would be easy to get a finger or five up into his ass. Much as he wanted this, he wasn't about to let Steve fuck him dry. Maybe he liked a little pain now and then, but he wasn't a masochist. Steve leaned into him again, his mouth zeroing in on the pulsing vein on the side of Clint's neck. As he did so, one of his hands slipped between the man's thighs and gently prodded at the puckered ring of muscle with a single finger.
The finger slid in easily, stroked in and out to help loosen the muscles in his ass. Apparently Steve had done this before. A second finger joined the first, thrust and scissored and stretched. Clint moaned like the shameless two dollar whore he'd been accused of being, his hips rolling automatically. His cock twitched in response. God above, Steve was killing him.
"Almost ready. Just hang on for a little while longer." Steve's voice was a soft brush of sound that was all sex and perversity. His fingers slipped out of Clint's ass, drawing a small sound of disappointment and a pout from him. Steve chuckled softly. His hand returned, his fingers stroking lightly against Clint's anus. Two tips pressed past the ring again, stopping when they were just inside. They spread wide, opening his ass up. Before Clint could figure out what he was doing, he felt the slick surface of the tube gliding into him. "Flex those ass muscles. And keep them tight."
Who the hell knew that Steve Rogers was such a dirty old man? Clint happily did as he was told. squeezing his ass down around the tube. He was filled with the sensation of something wet and cold. With his muscles still clenched, Steve pulled the tube from his ass, leaving a thick layer of lube behind.
"Don't loosen up until I'm ready." Dirty and dominant. Clint wanted to come just on that alone. He watched as Steve squeezed lube out onto the condom, then wrapped his fist about his cock and stroked up and down. He repeated the action three more times before he was satisfied that he was slick enough. Then he stepped forward. "Wrap your legs around my waist."
"Yes, sir." Clint lifted one leg, then the other, hooking his feet behind Steve's back. His hands found a place on the man's shoulders while his back remained pressed up against the wall. Steve planted one hand against the wall while the other took hold of his erection. It was a quick, erotic dance that saw Steve's condom wrapped cock pressed up against Clint's ass. A single, short thrust saw the head of his dick inside of Clint's body. It was a tight fit. He moaned loudly and told his body to relax.
Steve slowly and carefully fed his length into Clint, moving only a scant centimeter at a time. If the snail's pace put a strain on him, it didn't show. Clint, being a mere mortal, had already closed his eyes and panted like a bitch in heat. He wanted to tell Steve to stop dicking around, to thrust himself inside and start fucking. But Steve had super strength to go with that super stamina. He didn't want to be bleeding out his ass for a month to come.
It felt as if it took a year for Rogers to bury himself as completely as he could inside Clint's ass. When he was done, he leaned forward and found Clint's mouth, kissed him with his lips and his tongue while his hands shifted to take hold of Clint's ass. When Steve pulled back, it was to press his mouth against the shell of Clint's ear so that he could whisper all manner of dirty things into it. If Steve didn't stop, Clint was going to come just from the dirty talk alone.
Eventually, the spasms that rippled through his muscles slowed and stopped. The walls of his ass clung to Steve's cock without gripping it so tightly that a single move would rip him to shreds. "I'm going to fuck you now, Clint. I'm going to fuck you long and hard. After that, I'll probably fuck you some more."
Steve drew back until the head of his cock verged on falling out. He pushed himself back in, a long, slow stroke that drew a strangle cry from Clint's lips. The friction was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt in his life. The sweetest thing. Pure bliss blossomed in the pit of his belly and quickly spread out into all of his limbs, up into his head until his brain was fogged with need and desire and lust. Every cell tingled with a heady combination of sweet sensation and forbidden passion.
Steve's hands were so strong. They cupped Clint's ass and held him while their hips rocked against one another. The man whispered things Clint never thought he'd hear come from Captain America's lips, dirty and sexy things that fed the fire burning in his belly. Clint moaned and groaned, clenched his ass muscles down around Steve's cock tight. Occasionally, their mouths met and clashed. Kisses became tiny battles that claimed no one as victor.
The tension was building, growing and expanding until it felt as if Clint's skin would have to split to let it all out. His fingers dug into Steve's flesh while his hips began snapping out a rapid, staccato rhythm that said he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Steve stopped, his cock buried inside Clint's ass, and drew back so that he could look the other man in the face. Clint blinked at him, his body suddenly lost without the barrage of sensation. "I can tell you need to get off. Fist yourself. I want to see you wearing your own junk."
"Keep talking to me like that and I won't need to touch myself. If anyone knew you had such a dirty mouth..." Clint trailed off at the look on Steve's face. Of course he wasn't about to tell anyone. This was something he planned on keeping to himself. But if anyone else really knew what the man was like... Holy shit! When Steve cocked a brow at him, Clint removed one hand from the man's shoulders and brought it down between them so he could grip his cock.
His body tensed and shuddered at the touch before his hand fell into an old, well known rhythm. The friction provided by his palm saw his eyes slipping closed, but not before he caught sight of Steve watching his hand with avid fascination.
It was pure hell to have the man's cock buried in his ass without it moving. His hips shifted with each stroke, resulting in the smallest amount of friction that only enhanced the pleasure rushing through him. Steve continued to whisper things to him, dirty things that belonged only to him, pushing his need higher and higher. The knot in his belly tightened until it hurt. His balls tightened while his cock twitched. And then he was flying.
Clint barked out a cry of completion, his hand jerking hard on his length in order to milk every last ounce of his orgasm from him. The evidence of his release splashed against his chest, splattered the underside of his chin. Through it all, Steve held him and whispered dirty little nothings to him. Body spent and tingling, Clint was glad for the wall behind him and the other man's hands holding him. If this wasn't the time to have a cigarette and a shot of whiskey, he didn't know when was.
Panting softly, he pried his eyes open to find that Steve was still watching him. But only for a moment. In a heartbeat, he had Clint pressed tightly to the wall, his hands splayed across the tile on either side of him, The look on the man's face suggested that watching Clint come had pushed him farther over the edge than either of them had expected.
Rogers drew his cock back, then pressed it forward. Fast and hard. His pace said that he wouldn't stop this time. Not until he'd pumped the rubber full of himself. His hips churned, slapping hard against Clint's body as he thrust himself in and pulled out. This time, it was Clint who muttered dirty things, Clint who encouraged and begged. And when Steve finally came, when the man had thoroughly spent himself, the two of them stood pressed against one another, gasping for air.
Slowly, with great care, Steve disentangled himself from Clint. The water was going cold, but it was okay to rinse the ribbons of pearly white fluid from Clint's chest and the remainder of the lube from his ass and thighs. Steve recapped the lube and washed it. The archer shut off the water. When he was done an faced the door to the stall, Steve had already gotten rid of the used condom and its wrapper. He was watching Clint silently.
The two of them stared at one another for a moment or two, then came together in a heated kiss that involved much use of their tongues. At the same time, their hands raked and skimmed over one another, exploring and learning every shape and contour they could find. God, he could get lost in the touch of the man's hands, the taste of his mouth. But before he lost his head, Steve pulled back and struggled for breath. "No more tonight. Someone is bound to return soon."
"Right. Don't need them walking in on this." Together, they exited the stall and went for the towels pilled on a bench. Clint was in the middle of toweling his hair when Steve's voice caught his attention.
"We'll have to spar again soon. You're getting soft, Clint. Next week. Same time. And be prepared, because I'm going to kick your ass."
"Don't you mean fuck it?" Clint asked, feigning innocence. His question earned him a smile and a heated look from the other man.
"Yeah. That, too."