Fic: Moments (Avengers, Clint/Pietro, NC-17)
Title: Moments
Pairing: Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Written for marvelkink_v2 Pietro/Clint. I don't really have a particular kink in mind, there just needs to be more of these two.
Warnings: M/M sex, anal
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable in this. Marvel does. I do not make any money from this.
Author's Note: I couldn't say no to this one. lol Though if I keep working on smut fic with Clint in it he might just curl up and fall asleep on me. LOL
It was never going to be pretty, or happily ever after. They both knew that much but it never stopped them. Crystal didn’t stop it. Bobbi didn’t stop it. None of the other women that had come and gone had stopped it. Hell, Pietro was half suspicious that it wasn’t just some unconscious guilt that had led Wanda to bringing Clint back. But perhaps he was reading too much into things that really… he was much happier never considering again.
“Don’t.” Pietro’s gaze lifted to meet Clint’s as the archer spoke. “Don’t do whatever it is you’re doing in your head right now. It doesn’t matter.”
Pietro schooled his features into their standard condescending glare, though it had long since stopped working on Barton. “That seems like a rather arrogant assumption coming from you.” His eyebrow rose considerably. “Did you mysteriously develop some form of telepathy since…” his words were cut short as Clint claimed his lips.
He was smirked when he pulled back. “You know it always gets me hot when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t make me say it.” Clint glared a little and pulled the speedster closer. Pietro would have smiled and pressed his point, but time was short. Time was always short. Part of him wondered what it could be like; languidly stretched out together, slowly exploring every inch of skin. But that, like the fabled happy ending, wasn’t meant to be. One couldn’t possibly take that kind of time in a situation like theirs; especially not in a locker room where privacy couldn’t be guaranteed for long.
Clint’s hand drifted down Pietro’s body, gripping him and driving a moan through his throat. “Faster.”
“You always want it faster.”
“Then don’t make me ask for it!”
“Well, if you’re going to be all pissy about it-”
Pietro’s jaw clenched and he gripped Clint’s hips, pressing them as tightly against one another as possible. “I am not a patient man…”
“I am actually aware of that.” Clint smirked and pressed a kiss to Pietro’s neck.
“… but despite what you might think, I have no desire to hurt you.”
“Who said you’d get the chance this time?” Clint claimed his lips again, and pressed him against the lockers. The blond reached up, swinging one of the top lockers open and pulling something out.
Pietro couldn’t hold back the smirk that crossed his face when he saw the small bottle of lube. “You thought ahead this time.”
“Somebody had to.” He nipped at Pietro’s neck again as he yanked off the towels they’d both slung around their waists and spread the lube onto his fingers “Despite what you might think,” he smirked again, “I don’t want to hurt you either.”
Pietro’s eyebrow climbed up again, even as he wrapped a leg around Clint’s hip. “Stop being so sentimental and get on with it.”
“That’s the closest to submission I’m ever going to get from you, isn’t it?” Clint cut off the snarky reply that was bound to follow by pressing one finger into Pietro. The speedster bit his lip, swallowing the moan that threatened to leave his lips. “Come on…” Clint kissed him again. “Just this once, I wanna hear you.”
Pietro did his best to glare, but as Clint added another finger, he let his superior attitude be damned and gave in, moaning softly. He’d never admit it outside of that moment. He’d never let Clint know that for all his posturing and belligerence about it, he loved this, just as he knew that for all the machismo and chest puffing, when their positions were flipped, Clint loved it too. “Faster!”
“No.” Clint twisted his fingers, driving a frustrated groan from Pietro. He chuckled softly. “I’m enjoying you being all helpless and horny a little too much.” Pietro shuddered and absolutely did not whimper when another slick finger pressed into him. “God, that’s hot.”
Pietro grabbed the small bottle from the open locker. He squeezed a dab into his palm, let his hand slip between them, wrapping it around Clint’s cock and stroked him, almost painfully slowly. Well, painfully slowly for Pietro as he felt like he was fighting every instinct to keep that pace. “Fuck me.” His grip shifted to just the right side of too hard and Clint groaned. “Now.”
The archer’s fingers slid from Pietro’s body leaving him feeling vaguely empty before Clint spun him around and pressed him back into the lockers. “If you insist.” Pietro could almost feel the smirk that crossed Clint’s face as he pressed back against him. A quiet string of curses and moans left both of them as Clint pressed into Pietro. “Fuck, you feel so good…”
Pietro bit his lip again, trembling as his body adjusted and trying to swallow any sound that might confirm how good this was. “Just… fuck me.”
He felt Clint chuckle again. “No.”
“For fuck’s sake, Barton!” Pietro could feel that last hold on his usual smug attitude slipping away under his need to just get Clint to move. He tried to shift his hips but the archer’s grip tightened.
“One little word. That’s all it’ll take.” Clint nibbled on Pietro’s shoulder for a moment. “You’re wasting time.”
The speedster groaned and let his head rest against the cool metal of the lockers. When he found his voice again, it came out as a whisper. This was part of the game, the arrangement and they’d been doing this subtle torture to each other for as long as either could remember. “P-please.”
That was all Clint needed from him, he shifted, nearly pulling completely out of the other man before pressing in again and groaning against Pietro’s neck. “Was that so hard?” He punctuated the question with another thrust.
From that point on, everything about it was quick, almost frantic. They both muttered half confessions as they chased their own climax. When Clint wrapped his hand around Pietro’s achingly hard cock, he cried out, not caring if everyone for a city block heard him as he came. Every twitch and shudder that ran through him drove Clint closer to the edge and soon his low groans of completion joined Pietro’s over stimulated gasps.
They stayed connected as they both tried to remember how to breathe. When Clint finally peeled himself away he smiled. “I think I need another shower.”
Pietro nodded and followed a few moments later when he heard the sound of water hitting the tiles. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t happily ever after. They had other people for that. But nothing was going to stop these moments from happening no matter how vehemently either of them denied it.
It wasn’t love, but in those moments when everyone else had turned away from them, it was close enough.
Pairing: Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Written for marvelkink_v2 Pietro/Clint. I don't really have a particular kink in mind, there just needs to be more of these two.
Warnings: M/M sex, anal
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable in this. Marvel does. I do not make any money from this.
Author's Note: I couldn't say no to this one. lol Though if I keep working on smut fic with Clint in it he might just curl up and fall asleep on me. LOL
It was never going to be pretty, or happily ever after. They both knew that much but it never stopped them. Crystal didn’t stop it. Bobbi didn’t stop it. None of the other women that had come and gone had stopped it. Hell, Pietro was half suspicious that it wasn’t just some unconscious guilt that had led Wanda to bringing Clint back. But perhaps he was reading too much into things that really… he was much happier never considering again.
“Don’t.” Pietro’s gaze lifted to meet Clint’s as the archer spoke. “Don’t do whatever it is you’re doing in your head right now. It doesn’t matter.”
Pietro schooled his features into their standard condescending glare, though it had long since stopped working on Barton. “That seems like a rather arrogant assumption coming from you.” His eyebrow rose considerably. “Did you mysteriously develop some form of telepathy since…” his words were cut short as Clint claimed his lips.
He was smirked when he pulled back. “You know it always gets me hot when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t make me say it.” Clint glared a little and pulled the speedster closer. Pietro would have smiled and pressed his point, but time was short. Time was always short. Part of him wondered what it could be like; languidly stretched out together, slowly exploring every inch of skin. But that, like the fabled happy ending, wasn’t meant to be. One couldn’t possibly take that kind of time in a situation like theirs; especially not in a locker room where privacy couldn’t be guaranteed for long.
Clint’s hand drifted down Pietro’s body, gripping him and driving a moan through his throat. “Faster.”
“You always want it faster.”
“Then don’t make me ask for it!”
“Well, if you’re going to be all pissy about it-”
Pietro’s jaw clenched and he gripped Clint’s hips, pressing them as tightly against one another as possible. “I am not a patient man…”
“I am actually aware of that.” Clint smirked and pressed a kiss to Pietro’s neck.
“… but despite what you might think, I have no desire to hurt you.”
“Who said you’d get the chance this time?” Clint claimed his lips again, and pressed him against the lockers. The blond reached up, swinging one of the top lockers open and pulling something out.
Pietro couldn’t hold back the smirk that crossed his face when he saw the small bottle of lube. “You thought ahead this time.”
“Somebody had to.” He nipped at Pietro’s neck again as he yanked off the towels they’d both slung around their waists and spread the lube onto his fingers “Despite what you might think,” he smirked again, “I don’t want to hurt you either.”
Pietro’s eyebrow climbed up again, even as he wrapped a leg around Clint’s hip. “Stop being so sentimental and get on with it.”
“That’s the closest to submission I’m ever going to get from you, isn’t it?” Clint cut off the snarky reply that was bound to follow by pressing one finger into Pietro. The speedster bit his lip, swallowing the moan that threatened to leave his lips. “Come on…” Clint kissed him again. “Just this once, I wanna hear you.”
Pietro did his best to glare, but as Clint added another finger, he let his superior attitude be damned and gave in, moaning softly. He’d never admit it outside of that moment. He’d never let Clint know that for all his posturing and belligerence about it, he loved this, just as he knew that for all the machismo and chest puffing, when their positions were flipped, Clint loved it too. “Faster!”
“No.” Clint twisted his fingers, driving a frustrated groan from Pietro. He chuckled softly. “I’m enjoying you being all helpless and horny a little too much.” Pietro shuddered and absolutely did not whimper when another slick finger pressed into him. “God, that’s hot.”
Pietro grabbed the small bottle from the open locker. He squeezed a dab into his palm, let his hand slip between them, wrapping it around Clint’s cock and stroked him, almost painfully slowly. Well, painfully slowly for Pietro as he felt like he was fighting every instinct to keep that pace. “Fuck me.” His grip shifted to just the right side of too hard and Clint groaned. “Now.”
The archer’s fingers slid from Pietro’s body leaving him feeling vaguely empty before Clint spun him around and pressed him back into the lockers. “If you insist.” Pietro could almost feel the smirk that crossed Clint’s face as he pressed back against him. A quiet string of curses and moans left both of them as Clint pressed into Pietro. “Fuck, you feel so good…”
Pietro bit his lip again, trembling as his body adjusted and trying to swallow any sound that might confirm how good this was. “Just… fuck me.”
He felt Clint chuckle again. “No.”
“For fuck’s sake, Barton!” Pietro could feel that last hold on his usual smug attitude slipping away under his need to just get Clint to move. He tried to shift his hips but the archer’s grip tightened.
“One little word. That’s all it’ll take.” Clint nibbled on Pietro’s shoulder for a moment. “You’re wasting time.”
The speedster groaned and let his head rest against the cool metal of the lockers. When he found his voice again, it came out as a whisper. This was part of the game, the arrangement and they’d been doing this subtle torture to each other for as long as either could remember. “P-please.”
That was all Clint needed from him, he shifted, nearly pulling completely out of the other man before pressing in again and groaning against Pietro’s neck. “Was that so hard?” He punctuated the question with another thrust.
From that point on, everything about it was quick, almost frantic. They both muttered half confessions as they chased their own climax. When Clint wrapped his hand around Pietro’s achingly hard cock, he cried out, not caring if everyone for a city block heard him as he came. Every twitch and shudder that ran through him drove Clint closer to the edge and soon his low groans of completion joined Pietro’s over stimulated gasps.
They stayed connected as they both tried to remember how to breathe. When Clint finally peeled himself away he smiled. “I think I need another shower.”
Pietro nodded and followed a few moments later when he heard the sound of water hitting the tiles. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t happily ever after. They had other people for that. But nothing was going to stop these moments from happening no matter how vehemently either of them denied it.
It wasn’t love, but in those moments when everyone else had turned away from them, it was close enough.