Clint barely looks up from his book when Darcy flops down next to him on one of the shiny leather couches in the otherwise empty Avengers Initiative lounge, Smartphone in hand. He does smile silently to himself; he likes Darcy, a bit, and not just because she drives Fury, who felt his Initiative already blessed with an overabundance of smartassery, up the wall. She's got steady nerves, and a wicked mind.
“So, Clint,” she says, flicking a glance at him without missing a kiwi in her game of Fruit Ninja. “Not out on tonight's supervised cultural excursion with Steve and the Asgardians, I see. How come?”
“Didn't feel like it. You?”
“Politely instructed to go away and stop confusing them.” She smiles sweetly.
Clint snorts. “Ouch.”
“Meh.” Darcy shrugs. “I'll make it up to them later.”
She finally loses the game, slicing wildly through the barrage of fruit and striking a bomb by mistake. She curses softly but inventively. Instead of starting again, she exits the game and sighs heavily, eyes wandering to the corners of the room as she taps her phone restlessly against her knee. After about twenty seconds, she looks at Clint. “You wanna fuck?”
Clint blinks at his page, then squints sideways at Darcy. Hard to tell with her, sometimes, but she seems serious enough. “Why?”
She frowns like that's a ridiculous, obvious question. “Because I'm bored and horny?”
He smirks. “I meant why me.”
“I dunno. You're here and you talk to me and you're moderately cute. Plus you seem kinda easy.” Her tone is as wry as ever, but she is sitting awfully close to him on that damned squeaky couch, all warm and pretty and smelling like cinnamon gum, and there's a new intensity in her smoky-shadowed eyes.
“You know I'm several years older than you.”
She smiles patronizingly. “You know it's refreshing to meet someone who actually worries about that sort of thing.”
“I don't, not really. It's just that I'm used to a kind of maturity, a certain level of experience and also of self-reliance because I am an incredibly lazy lover.”
“That's cool. I'm just looking for a warm body I can ride like a pogo stick because I had to leave most of my enormous collection of exotic sex toys at home when I came here and I'm sick of jacking off with what I've got.”
“Take me,” Clint says, surprising himself with his sincerity.
Darcy smiles and picks up her phone, unlocking it with a swipe of her index finger. Clint frowns, worrying that she misread his monotone delivery.
“I'm serious, Darcy. Let's do this thing.” He warms up a 'gotcha!' just in case she's messing with him, but she snorts and flicks a hand dismissively.
“Alright, hold your horses. I'm just texting Jane to tell her I picked up a gigolo so I might be late for work in the morning.”
Clint grins and lifts his hips off the couch to retrieve his own phone from his pocket. “I should tell Natasha the same thing.”
“That you picked up a gigolo?”
He laughs as he pulls up Natasha's number. “I was going to say 'escort', but now that I look at you . . .”
Darcy tsks. “You know I was this close to feeling flattered there? Nobody's ever called me an escort before.”
Clint purses his lips. “'Escort' might have been a bit generous.”
“Oh, believe me: I would if I could.”
Darcy rolls her eyes. “You haven't even seen my breasts yet.”
“That is lamentably true.”
Darcy finishes her message and claps her hands together in front of her throat with a smile. “So, which way to your room?”
Clint grins smugly at the few S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel they pass in the hallways, and most of them roll their eyes or ignore him entirely. They reach Clint's bachelor-style apartment on one of the residential floors and he pushes into the room ahead of her to clear away some of the more embarrassing bits of clutter.
Darcy stands in the doorway, nodding at the room, sparsely decorated and lightly scattered with dirty dishes, weapons, paperbacks, and soft cases full of burned and commercial DVDs. “Gotta say, this part's a bit of a let-down.”
Clint rolls his eyes as he rummages in the bedside table for a box of assorted colored condoms, which he tosses on the bed below the pillows. “We can go to your room instead,” he offers, but she's already stepped into the room, bending down to remove her boots while the door clicks shut behind her. Clint quickly does the same, kicking his boots and socks out of the way and standing in front of his half-made bed. “So . . .” he says.
“So,” Darcy agrees with a sage nod.
Clint's brows crease and his shoulders droop. “Is this actually going to work, or are we both too sarcastic?”
“Too sarcastic for what?” Darcy asks as she crosses the room towards him.
“For each other. The apathetic presentation is well and badass in most situations, but I'm not sure it works in bed. I mean, think about it. 'Deadpan sex', does that sound appetizing?”
“Shut up and sit down.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Clint sits down on the foot of the bed just in time for Darcy to climb astride his lap. She kisses him, wet and purposeful, and he hums approvingly. He gathers up the hair that falls around her face and holds it back behind her head, and she responds by grabbing fistfuls of hair on either side of his head and pulling on it, hard.
Clint grunts and falls back on the bed, and Darcy follows him down. She spreads her knees wider, grinding her crotch against his. He cups his hands around her ass, squeezing and pulling her tighter to him as he pushes up with his hips, rubbing his erection against the seam of her pants until his own jeans start to chafe and pinch. He winces, reluctant to tear his mouth away from hers (she's a pretty good kisser, eager and sloppy and a little bit bitey), and slides a hand up her back under her shirt to fumble with the clasp on her bra. She chuckles and reaches back to help him with the troublesome third hook, and he takes advantage of the pause to kiss along her jaw to her ear and growl, “Too many fucking clothes.”
Darcy moans in agreement and sits up to shed her flannel overshirt and peel her tank top off over her head while Clint strips out of his own shirt, spitting out the dogtags that fall across his lips.
“Goddamn,” Clint mutters, staring at Darcy's breasts spilling out around the edges of her skewed bra. She giggles as he rolls her over on her back on the bedspread, gathering her breasts together and kneading them with his hands. He momentarily forgets the discomfort of his constraining jeans as he buries his face in her cleavage, kissing, licking, and nuzzling. “I will admit, these are escort-quality tits.”
“I'm glad you approve,” Darcy says, the last syllable slipping into a gasp as he sucks one pink nipple into his mouth and rubs a callused thumb across the other. She arches her back, pressing her breasts up towards him, and Clint shifts his weight, crawling a little higher up her body and dragging his knee between her legs so that she can grind against his thigh. “Oh, this was a good idea,” she mutters as Clint gently gnaws her tits and she humps his leg. “Why the hell are we still wearing pants?”
“One of the great philosophical questions,” Clint says, kneeling up to give her room to unbuckle his belt and reach for the fly of her own pants. He steps back from the bed to unbutton his fly.
“Damn. I totally need to become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Darcy sighs as she kicks free of her skinny jeans and settles back to watch him, propped up on her elbows.
“Good segue,” Clint says, smirking. He shucks his pants and underwear to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking them away.
Darcy smiles and points a foot at him, wriggling her toes. “I mean the cool toys and promise of pure badassery are tempting enough, but the real selling point's all the hot ass wandering the halls. I didn't think bodies like that existed outside gay porn.”
“Thank you,” Clint says, blushing slightly as he steps back toward her, clad in nothing but dogtags and a smile.
“I didn't say I was talking about you.” Darcy smirks and Clint lunges towards her, wrestling her onto her side and giving her a smack on the ass as he drags her hips closer to the edge of the bed. He strips off her underwear, enjoying the way the wet fabric sticks to her skin, and kneels between her legs.
Darcy sighs and lies back on Clint's bed, her bracelets clattering softly as she slips them off her wrists and drops them on top of her discarded shirt, while Clint gets a good look at her shaved pussy. He gives her lips a long lick from bottom to top before he gets his face in, nuzzling and slurping.
“Ohhhh I thought you said you were lazy,” Darcy says, opening her thighs wider and tilting her pussy up towards his face.
Clint growls smugly and swirls his tongue around her clit. Darcy doesn't try to keep her voice down, hissing and cursing as he eats her out. At one point her moans change pitch, becoming oddly muffled, and he looks up to see her biting down on the flesh of her own upper arm. Throwing himself into his task with renewed gusto, Clint works her hard until she comes, gripping her thighs with his forearms and holding onto her bucking hips until she swats at his white-knuckled hands.
“Get up here,” she commands. Clint crawls up onto the bed, moving to lie on top of her, but Darcy tugs on his arms and he keeps crawling until he's straddling her ribcage. She pushes up on her elbows again, taking hold of his cock and bending it down, away from his belly, so that she can lick along its underside and suck the damp head into her mouth. Clint moans as she gulps down more of his length (she's a pretty good cocksucker, eager and sloppy and a little bit bitey), and drops one hand to steady himself on the mattress. He giggles at the noises she makes, little mumbling moans sounding suspiciously like 'om nom nom', and clenches his eyes shut at the way vibrations make his balls tighten.
“Where do you want me?” Clint asks, breathless.
Darcy sucks back to the head of his cock and releases it with a pop. “What's that?”
“To come, where do you want me? You want to finish me off like this?”
“Hmm.” Darcy bites her lip as she thinks about this. “Well, eventually I want you to come on my tits, but I was hoping you would fuck me first.”
Clint moans and reaches for the condom box. He chooses one at random and tears the wrapper open with his teeth, spitting out a strip of plastic and rolling the condom onto his saliva-wet dick. He climbs off of Darcy long enough for her to pull herself the rest of the way onto the bed, then lines himself up between her bent knees. “You want it?” he asks.
“I want it,” Darcy says, grinning.
“I want to hear you say it.”
Darcy rolls her eyes and flops her head back to stair at the wall at the head of the bed. She shouts, “I want you to stick your fat old cock inside my wet hungry pussy!”
Clint laughs and does as she asks, sinking slowly between her shaved lips. She's hot and tight and slippery and he goes in easy, then pulls back and starts to fuck her smooth and steady.
Darcy hums and bites her lip again, one hand wandering down her belly to place three fingers just above her clit, pressing hard and rubbing in tight circles until she comes, her vaginal muscles fluttering around Clint's thrusting cock.
Clint grins and starts to pull out, but Darcy squeezes her knees against his hips to hold him in place.
“Where do you think you're going?”
Clint frowns. “I was going to jerk off on your tits.”
“Not yet, you're not.” She hooks a leg around the small of his back and draws his cock back into her, rocking up to meet him. “Get back to work.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he says again, and starts to fuck her again, harder than before, feeling how the changed angle drives his cock more firmly into the front wall of her cunt, above her pubic bone.
“Oh yeah,” Darcy says, gripping his arms tightly above the elbows and tilting her hips even farther, raising her other leg to rest the sole of her foot on the outside of his thigh. “Oh fuck. Oh fucking fucker fuck!” She cries out as she comes again, an expulsion of hot liquid splashing on Clint's belly above the condom.
Clint gasps. “Holy—did you just squirt?”
“Maybe,” Darcy pants, eyes closed and mouth falling slack.
“Can you do it again?”
“One way to find out.”
She grins and squeezes deliberately around him and Clint's hips stutter involuntarily before he gets his hands on her shoulders, holding her upper body down on the mattress while he rises to the challenge, fucking her rough and focused on her g-spot. Darcy puts her fingers back to work, rubbing fiercely at her clit, and this time when she comes, soaking his pubic hair in another rush of ejaculate, her muscles clamp down so tightly around Clint's cock and milk him so hard that Clint barely manages to pull out of her cunt and yank the condom off before he comes, semen striping across her belly. When he's drained he kisses her on the mouth, clumsy and sweet.
“Jesus,” Clint says as he falls back on the bed beside her. “I'm sorry I missed your—” He waves his fingers at her mostly jizz-free bosom. “Your body is incredible.”
“Thank you,” Darcy says, sounding pleased and sleepy, and pats him affectionately on the thigh.
“You know, next time you're bored and horny you can—no, scratch that. Next time you want to get together for any reason, you let me know. We'll hang out, it'll be fun.”
“Yeah?” Darcy rolls her head to look at him, and reads the warm sincerity in his face. “I'd like that a lot . . . You too, I guess.”
Clint sighs and smirks at the ceiling. “Yep, not bad for a gigolo. And I do mean you, by the way.”
Darcy laughs and hits him with a pillow.