(The Avengers) Talking Loud, Talking Fast
Title: Talking Loud, Talking Fast
Fandom: The Avengers (Movieverse)
Pairing: Clint/Pietro
Rating: NC-17
Words: 875
Timeline: Avengers: Age Of Ultron
Notes: Spoilers for Avengers: Age Of Ultron. Rough sex. For avengers_tables, prompt "conversation".
Summary: Clint's gonna have a talk with the kid, even if they don't have the time for it. Put the punk in his place. Not there's gonna be much talking involved in this particular conversation.
“You and me,” Clint says. “I think we need to have a conversation.”
Pietro’s looking at him, expression intrigued and bordering on haughty, with the raised eyebrow, the tilt of his head. “Your Captain gave us three minutes.”
Clint gives him a smile, makes it slow, makes it dirty. “Not gonna be a problem for you, is it?” Boxing Pietro in against the wall a little, watching the way his pupils dilate. “Way I figure, you like to go fast.”
Yeah, he’s cutting it close, doing this. Steve won’t leave without them, sure, although he’s more worried at this point that creepy Wanda chick will come looking for her brother. They’re never apart long.
But the kid’s been winding him up bad, setting his teeth on edge, making his blood boil in this way that makes him want to be stupid, take risks. And Clint’s whole life has been about taking risks, for a long damn time now.
Calculated risks, at least, and right now his brain is telling him the risk of going for this is gonna be worth it.
Especially when Pietro’s breath catches as Clint leans even further into his space.
Yeah, he knew he was reading this right.
“Hell,” Clint murmurs, letting his gaze drop purposefully to the swell of Pietro’s bottom lip. “Maybe you don’t just like to go fast - maybe you need it.”
Barely has the words out before the kid’s on him, and he kisses just as brutal, just as greedy as Clint knew he would.
Fast is the right word, because they skip straight into Pietro groaning into his mouth like they’ve been doing this for hours, so quick it’s enough to make Clint dizzy. Pietro’s clinging to Clint’s waist, his shoulders, flutter of fingers moving all over his back and sides, writhing as Clint pushes him back against the wall. Nice full body shudder as Clint drags his teeth over Pietro’s tongue, which turns into this rippling motion, running down his spine, hips searching for friction.
Clint gives it to him, hand dropping between Pietro’s legs, squeezing him almost cruel. He’s already hard under Clint’s palm, whining into Clint’s mouth, trying to arch up into it.
Clock’s ticking, no time for finesse. And Clint wouldn’t give it to the kid, even if there was - he wants it fierce and messy and just the right side of mean. It’s all about respect, or the fact that Pietro’s winning their mental tally of who’s knocked down who more, or just the fact that Clint wants this.
Wants to see the punk lose his shit, wants to hear all those lost little noises that are getting muffled between their mouths. Wants that moment of lust and freedom before he goes putting his life on the line yet again.
Working Pietro roughly, rubbing the shape of him through his clothes, chafing his cock a little because it makes Pietro fucking whimper. Sounding sweet enough to make Clint burn beneath his uniform, sweat prickling the back of his neck, breathing coming quick, never mind he’s not the one being touched.
Has to put his whole weight into pressing Pietro into the wall, buck of those hips growing more wild. Getting Pietro’s bottom lip between his teeth and holding him like that, hand working all the while, and Pietro keens and shakes and falls apart, coming beneath Clint’s palm, eyes rolling up and hands scrabbling helplessly at Clint’s hips.
He really is a pretty little thing, when he’s not running his mouth. Clint can’t resist stepping back and admiring his handy work.
Messy hair made messier, flushed and breathing heavy, eyes glassy and mouth slack. No trace of cockiness at all, for the first time since Clint met the bastard.
“I - It’s -” Kid can sprint so fast Clint can’t even see him, but right now he’s gasping like he’s run a marathon.
“Go get cleaned up,” Clint smirks, nodding towards the locker room. “Your sister will be waiting.”
Oh, that gets him a pissy little frown, some of that familiar arrogance seeping back in. “What about you?” Pietro asks, tilting his chin towards Clint in a blunt question.
Swaying on the spot, even with the wall to support him, Clint notes with a flair of triumph.
He’s already pushed his luck doing this. Anything else will have to wait, no matter how much he wants to continue, to get his hands on Pietro’s skin.
“After,” he promises instead. Something to look forward to, when they’re knee-deep in homicidal robots. “Right now, you need a change of pants, and I have a world to save.”
The frown gets deeper, huffier. But there’s a nice edge of that easy teasing when Pietro scoffs, “Later then, old man.”
He heads off down the corridor. Walking at a normal, human pace, with just the slightest hint of a displeased sneer over the damp fabric moving against his crotch. It kinda makes Clint want to laugh, but mostly makes him want to drag Pietro back, see how many times he can make the kid come in his pants before he stops acting like such a brat.
But that’s for after the fight. For now, Clint’ll consider this as having been a good talk.
Fandom: The Avengers (Movieverse)
Pairing: Clint/Pietro
Rating: NC-17
Words: 875
Timeline: Avengers: Age Of Ultron
Notes: Spoilers for Avengers: Age Of Ultron. Rough sex. For avengers_tables, prompt "conversation".
Summary: Clint's gonna have a talk with the kid, even if they don't have the time for it. Put the punk in his place. Not there's gonna be much talking involved in this particular conversation.
“You and me,” Clint says. “I think we need to have a conversation.”
Pietro’s looking at him, expression intrigued and bordering on haughty, with the raised eyebrow, the tilt of his head. “Your Captain gave us three minutes.”
Clint gives him a smile, makes it slow, makes it dirty. “Not gonna be a problem for you, is it?” Boxing Pietro in against the wall a little, watching the way his pupils dilate. “Way I figure, you like to go fast.”
Yeah, he’s cutting it close, doing this. Steve won’t leave without them, sure, although he’s more worried at this point that creepy Wanda chick will come looking for her brother. They’re never apart long.
But the kid’s been winding him up bad, setting his teeth on edge, making his blood boil in this way that makes him want to be stupid, take risks. And Clint’s whole life has been about taking risks, for a long damn time now.
Calculated risks, at least, and right now his brain is telling him the risk of going for this is gonna be worth it.
Especially when Pietro’s breath catches as Clint leans even further into his space.
Yeah, he knew he was reading this right.
“Hell,” Clint murmurs, letting his gaze drop purposefully to the swell of Pietro’s bottom lip. “Maybe you don’t just like to go fast - maybe you need it.”
Barely has the words out before the kid’s on him, and he kisses just as brutal, just as greedy as Clint knew he would.
Fast is the right word, because they skip straight into Pietro groaning into his mouth like they’ve been doing this for hours, so quick it’s enough to make Clint dizzy. Pietro’s clinging to Clint’s waist, his shoulders, flutter of fingers moving all over his back and sides, writhing as Clint pushes him back against the wall. Nice full body shudder as Clint drags his teeth over Pietro’s tongue, which turns into this rippling motion, running down his spine, hips searching for friction.
Clint gives it to him, hand dropping between Pietro’s legs, squeezing him almost cruel. He’s already hard under Clint’s palm, whining into Clint’s mouth, trying to arch up into it.
Clock’s ticking, no time for finesse. And Clint wouldn’t give it to the kid, even if there was - he wants it fierce and messy and just the right side of mean. It’s all about respect, or the fact that Pietro’s winning their mental tally of who’s knocked down who more, or just the fact that Clint wants this.
Wants to see the punk lose his shit, wants to hear all those lost little noises that are getting muffled between their mouths. Wants that moment of lust and freedom before he goes putting his life on the line yet again.
Working Pietro roughly, rubbing the shape of him through his clothes, chafing his cock a little because it makes Pietro fucking whimper. Sounding sweet enough to make Clint burn beneath his uniform, sweat prickling the back of his neck, breathing coming quick, never mind he’s not the one being touched.
Has to put his whole weight into pressing Pietro into the wall, buck of those hips growing more wild. Getting Pietro’s bottom lip between his teeth and holding him like that, hand working all the while, and Pietro keens and shakes and falls apart, coming beneath Clint’s palm, eyes rolling up and hands scrabbling helplessly at Clint’s hips.
He really is a pretty little thing, when he’s not running his mouth. Clint can’t resist stepping back and admiring his handy work.
Messy hair made messier, flushed and breathing heavy, eyes glassy and mouth slack. No trace of cockiness at all, for the first time since Clint met the bastard.
“I - It’s -” Kid can sprint so fast Clint can’t even see him, but right now he’s gasping like he’s run a marathon.
“Go get cleaned up,” Clint smirks, nodding towards the locker room. “Your sister will be waiting.”
Oh, that gets him a pissy little frown, some of that familiar arrogance seeping back in. “What about you?” Pietro asks, tilting his chin towards Clint in a blunt question.
Swaying on the spot, even with the wall to support him, Clint notes with a flair of triumph.
He’s already pushed his luck doing this. Anything else will have to wait, no matter how much he wants to continue, to get his hands on Pietro’s skin.
“After,” he promises instead. Something to look forward to, when they’re knee-deep in homicidal robots. “Right now, you need a change of pants, and I have a world to save.”
The frown gets deeper, huffier. But there’s a nice edge of that easy teasing when Pietro scoffs, “Later then, old man.”
He heads off down the corridor. Walking at a normal, human pace, with just the slightest hint of a displeased sneer over the damp fabric moving against his crotch. It kinda makes Clint want to laugh, but mostly makes him want to drag Pietro back, see how many times he can make the kid come in his pants before he stops acting like such a brat.
But that’s for after the fight. For now, Clint’ll consider this as having been a good talk.