Haunted [1/1]
Title Haunted [1/1]
Fandom The Avengers
Rating R
Pairing Clint/Loki, Brief!Clint/Natasha
Summary But there is one aspect of those three days in hell, he can't stop thinking of. It isn't the things he done, the innocent people he killed and hurting the people he had grown to care for...like Natasha...it was the feel of his hands.
Warnings Dubious Consent
Disclaimer I do not own any of the characters in this fic, this event is just a part of my imagination
Notes: Written for hc_bingo using the "Dub-Con" square and written for a prompt on comment_fic
The fact that this is all Agent Clint Barton can think about disgusts him. He is supposed to be healing, trying to make sense of what happened to him. But there is one aspect of those three days in hell, he can't stop thinking of. It isn't the things he done, the innocent people he killed and hurting the people he had grown to care for...like Natasha...it was the feel of his hands.
It was the only time he shut off the mind control. His senses were on overdrive...like the foul taste of the cloth shoved in his mouth and tied at the back of his head, and the razor sharp binds encircling his wrists. He wasn't that alarmed about being bound....more confused. He tried to put the pieces together, the last thing he remembered being in S.H.I.E.L.D, the tesseract reacting and a man with a staff pointing it towards him.
"You're awake," a voice said...it was all too familiar.
Clint raised his head ever so slightly, and there he was...the man with the staff...standing in the doorway.....eyes looking down on him like a predator examining his prey. He began stepping towards him with long strides, and Clint began thrashing in the binds, muffled grunts leaving his lips.
Suddenly he felt the sharp point of the staff under his chin.
"I would stay still," The man said bluntly, "or I can make you hurt that girl you are found of...what's her name." Clint stilled at the threat and the sound of the staff falling to the floor caused him to cringe as the sound rung through his over sensitive ears. The staff was replaced by fingers, long callused fingers touching chin.
He felt the bed sink, causing the muscles to tense. The fingers began to dance down his jaw and over his throat. A soft groan left his lips as he felt his body sinking into the sheets, relaxing.
"Amazing how it works," the man said again hands moving moving over his collarbone and the bare skin of his chest, "a simple threat," he paused to make circles around his nipples with one hand and rubbed his belly, "and you quickly submit."
His head shook softly from side to side, closing his eyes to hide the fear and disgust they bared. He didn't want this. But he didn't want to fight it. It wasn't in fear of the threats on Natasha would follow through. A strong motivation not to do anything, it was the hands. Those long, bold and strong hands and the way they handled him, moving softly across the skin, moving further and further-
Clint is shaken awake. His head turn sharply to see Natasha sitting up next to him. Her hand touching his cheek gently.
"You were having a nightmare," she says.
He breathes deeply in and out through his nose trying calming down and melting into her touch. But then her hand moves to his chest to feel his heartbeat. He bites his lip...it feels wrong.
It isn't her hands he wants....it's his.
Fandom The Avengers
Rating R
Pairing Clint/Loki, Brief!Clint/Natasha
Summary But there is one aspect of those three days in hell, he can't stop thinking of. It isn't the things he done, the innocent people he killed and hurting the people he had grown to care for...like Natasha...it was the feel of his hands.
Warnings Dubious Consent
Disclaimer I do not own any of the characters in this fic, this event is just a part of my imagination
Notes: Written for hc_bingo using the "Dub-Con" square and written for a prompt on comment_fic
The fact that this is all Agent Clint Barton can think about disgusts him. He is supposed to be healing, trying to make sense of what happened to him. But there is one aspect of those three days in hell, he can't stop thinking of. It isn't the things he done, the innocent people he killed and hurting the people he had grown to care for...like Natasha...it was the feel of his hands.
It was the only time he shut off the mind control. His senses were on overdrive...like the foul taste of the cloth shoved in his mouth and tied at the back of his head, and the razor sharp binds encircling his wrists. He wasn't that alarmed about being bound....more confused. He tried to put the pieces together, the last thing he remembered being in S.H.I.E.L.D, the tesseract reacting and a man with a staff pointing it towards him.
"You're awake," a voice said...it was all too familiar.
Clint raised his head ever so slightly, and there he was...the man with the staff...standing in the doorway.....eyes looking down on him like a predator examining his prey. He began stepping towards him with long strides, and Clint began thrashing in the binds, muffled grunts leaving his lips.
Suddenly he felt the sharp point of the staff under his chin.
"I would stay still," The man said bluntly, "or I can make you hurt that girl you are found of...what's her name." Clint stilled at the threat and the sound of the staff falling to the floor caused him to cringe as the sound rung through his over sensitive ears. The staff was replaced by fingers, long callused fingers touching chin.
He felt the bed sink, causing the muscles to tense. The fingers began to dance down his jaw and over his throat. A soft groan left his lips as he felt his body sinking into the sheets, relaxing.
"Amazing how it works," the man said again hands moving moving over his collarbone and the bare skin of his chest, "a simple threat," he paused to make circles around his nipples with one hand and rubbed his belly, "and you quickly submit."
His head shook softly from side to side, closing his eyes to hide the fear and disgust they bared. He didn't want this. But he didn't want to fight it. It wasn't in fear of the threats on Natasha would follow through. A strong motivation not to do anything, it was the hands. Those long, bold and strong hands and the way they handled him, moving softly across the skin, moving further and further-
Clint is shaken awake. His head turn sharply to see Natasha sitting up next to him. Her hand touching his cheek gently.
"You were having a nightmare," she says.
He breathes deeply in and out through his nose trying calming down and melting into her touch. But then her hand moves to his chest to feel his heartbeat. He bites his lip...it feels wrong.
It isn't her hands he wants....it's his.