It has so much potential! Guh. Also, perfect. Feel free to muck about with his awareness as well. stillnotlegolasMay 11 2012, 04:48:52 UTC
{The wall of the warehouse was cold behind his back, that much he was aware of, torso stripped as it was. There was a blindfold over his eyes, which normally would have had him snarling but currently simply cut off his vision and made him vaguely uncomfortable for lack of sight, and his hands were tied-though he wasn’t entirely sure why, he had no need to attack his Commander - above his head, keeping him splayed out and available.
His pants still clung to him, untouched as of now and he shifted his weight absently, waiting, it seemed, for what Loki might do}
[Ideal! Clint loves nothing better than corrupting an American Icon. RNG gave us a 24 to start.]
{So maybe Clint had thought about this, time and again, absently, once he'd seen the good Captain in person. He was a hot-blooded American man after all, and Steve was pretty much everyone's idea of a perfect specimen. It made sense he fueled a few of Clint's late night fantasies--he wasn't a man that evaluated them too deeply. Fantasy was fantasy was fantasy. Except, of course, when it wasn't.
He smirked down at the man he'd currently finished tying to his bed and shifted his weight, just slightly, so that he wasn't crushing the man as his hands slid up impossibly muscled arms to test the bonds he'd taken quite a while securing. It helped, he thought, that he knew how strong the Captain really was, so barring the man ripping the bedframe from the bed, he should be secure.
And that just made him smirk all the more. There were times that Clint really didn't mind being a patriot.} Still with me, Cap?
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His pants still clung to him, untouched as of now and he shifted his weight absently, waiting, it seemed, for what Loki might do}
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canons preferred but open to anyone )
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{So maybe Clint had thought about this, time and again, absently, once he'd seen the good Captain in person. He was a hot-blooded American man after all, and Steve was pretty much everyone's idea of a perfect specimen. It made sense he fueled a few of Clint's late night fantasies--he wasn't a man that evaluated them too deeply. Fantasy was fantasy was fantasy. Except, of course, when it wasn't.
He smirked down at the man he'd currently finished tying to his bed and shifted his weight, just slightly, so that he wasn't crushing the man as his hands slid up impossibly muscled arms to test the bonds he'd taken quite a while securing. It helped, he thought, that he knew how strong the Captain really was, so barring the man ripping the bedframe from the bed, he should be secure.
And that just made him smirk all the more. There were times that Clint really didn't mind being a patriot.} Still with me, Cap?
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