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Can't Take 'Em Anywhere

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In Guangzhou, Tony caused three million yuan in damages to Canton Tower.

"Incoming call from Ms. Potts," Jarvis said, as Tony wound his way through the city.

"Yes, love of my heart, goddess of my world, who is hopefully not mad at me for whatever I did that I don't remember doing?" Tony answered.

"You busy?" Pepper asked.

"Dinner with investors tonight, but if you're using that tone of voice then no, I have nothing to do whatsoever," he said. "Except you, but you're a continent away."

"You're so sweet," she said dryly.

"What are you wearing?" he asked. Creativity had its place and time, and this wasn't it. "Please say nothing."

"You've already seen me in nothing," she said. "You haven't seen me in what I'm going to wear for you when you get home."

"You've piqued my interest," he said, buzzing a group of women who waved from the street below. "Naughty schoolgirl? I love naughty schoolgirl. It's the pigtails that get me."

"Nope."

"Are you finally gonna wear that Iron Cheer costume I got you?" he asked hopefully. "Because I'll fly home right now for that."

"That's way too predictable."

"I can do predictable when it's that hot. Black leather? French maid?" He pulled up short. "You didn't."

"I don't know what you mean," she said innocently. "You'll have to be more specific."

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, flying towards the sparklingly-lit tower. "Old style or new style?"

"Would I really waste your time with the new style?" she asked, sounding mildly offended.

"That's my girl," he said, grinning to himself. "Do you have everything? Cuffs, collar, all of it?"

"It's not a surprise if I give you every little detail, Tony," she chided.

"Did you learn the Bunny Dip?" he asked. "Please tell me you learned the Bunny Dip. I'm not even sure what it is but I know I want you to do it. There have to be videos on StarkTube."

"It's not as sexy as it sounds," she told him.

"If you're doing it, it's even sexier than it sounds," Tony said. "There is one major problem."

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"I keep meaning to fix the major design flaw in the crotch of these suits," he said through his teeth. "They pinch. They pinch double when you're thinking about your girlfriend dressed as a Playboy Bunny. Maybe triple."

"Well hurry up and do what you have to do," she said, her voice low and seductive. "Then you can come back here and get out of that suit. Then if you're very, very good, I'll let you see my new outfit."

"One day you're going to kill me, woman," Tony said. "Just let my tombstone read 'He died doing what he loved.'" She laughed. "Once I get home, I'm going to take if off of you. Piece by piece. With my teeth."

"If I let you," she said. "Customers are not allowed to touch the Bunnies. Maybe I'll see how far I can go before you're begging me to."

"Not very far," he admitted. "I can start begging you now, if you want me to. I'm not very subtle, though. I'll probably start by begging to put my face in your-"

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" Rhodey's voice cut in, and that was about the time Tony crashed into the side of the tower.

--

In Andahuaylas, Clint bit a hole in a leather glove.

Honest to god, they were trying to be quiet. They were waiting out nightfall in a surprisingly nice safehouse, waiting to go and kick a little HYDRA ass, and Clint caught the look on Steve's face, the one Clint was getting cheerfully accustomed to. Their fearless leader liked to get off before a mission, that wasn't that weird once Clint got over the sense that he was defiling Captain America, but this was more than that. This was the "I need to fuck someone through a wall" face. Clint was all about that face.

They didn't actually make it to a wall; Steve shoved him onto the bed as soon as they were alone. That turned out to be a blessing, because Clint hadn't realized how thin the walls really were. Even from the next room, the sound of Phil watching dubbed TV was still pretty loud.

Clint wasn't a screamer, not even close, but he was just about to get fucked hard with spit for lube by a supersoldier, and sometimes you just took precautions about these things. The creak of the bed was going to be loud enough. He didn't need to add anything to it.

Clint looked around, but the only thing handy was a pair of worn-looking motorcycle gloves someone had apparently abandoned on the nightstand. Clint snapped his fingers, pointing at them. Steve looked at him in confusion, but he tossed Clint the gloves anyway. Clint put one in his mouth, biting down on it as he grabbed onto the metal footboard. He gave Steve a go-ahead motion, waiting impatiently as he listened to Steve spit into his hand.

The glove was a great choice, because even with it in, he let out an audible grunt as Steve pushed inside of him. Steve had a great cock, satisfying, just made to stretch somebody out, fill them up. Clint's hands tightened on the bars; he let his head hang as Steve fucked him, big jolting thrusts that made him want to scream.

The bedframe complained as Steve fucked him, squeaking loudly, and Clint stopped caring about Phil hearing and started caring about the neighbors. Another good thrust and Clint decided that they could all go straight to hell, as long as Steve kept fucking him so deep and hard that Clint felt like he might just come undone, be broken apart. He was going to be so sore that it was going to be a fucking nightmare sitting in a sniper's nest tonight, but it was so worth it in every way.

There was a knock on the door, which opened uninvited, and Clint looked up, blinking at the sudden light. "Gentlemen," Phil said, sounding annoyed.

"Agent," Steve stammered, and Clint knew without turning around exactly what his face looked like, the perfect horror on it, like there was no way Phil had known what they were up to in here.

Clint spat out the glove; it was in two parts, where Clint's teeth had apparently gotten the better of the thin leather. He licked his lips to try to get rid of the taste. He gave Phil an unamused look. "This is what it looks like," he said.

"You have two choices," Phil said, in the clipped voice that Clint hadn't heard in a long time; it was the one that said Phil was going to do something he knew was stupid. "Put your clothes on or let me join in."

"Get your dick out," Clint said, before Steve could fuck it up. This was Clint's call. Steve wasn't the one about to get double-teamed. Well, theoretically he could be, but Clint wasn't giving that honor up so easily.

Apparently Steve wasn't as averse to this idea as Clint thought he might be, because he just started moving again, slower this time. Phil did as he was told; well, actually, he kinda stepped in front of Clint, unzipped, and hit Clint in the face with his dick until Clint got the message, and that was close enough.

Clint hadn't been fucked like this in a long time, too long. It felt amazing like this, filled up with cock, nothing to do but take it. He kept his hands on the railing, letting Steve's hard thrusts push him farther down on Phil's cock. Clint gave a mean blowjob, but this wasn't about skill, wasn't about anything but letting himself get fucked.

He could tell when Steve was close; Steve put his hands on Clint's waist, pulling him back on his cock. Clint reached underneath himself, fisting his cock, determined to get there as soon as he could. Phil beat them both, though. He pulled his cock out of Clint's mouth, catching his jaw and holding him in place as he jerked himself off, coming all over Clint's face. Steve moaned as he came, moving just right, and Clint followed right behind him, still looking up into Phil's eyes, filled with smug satisfaction.

Clint hissed when Steve finally pulled out of him; just because it was hot didn't mean it didn't hurt. Steve stroked his back apologetically, which was weird, but if it made Steve feel better, then whatever. Phil stepped back, tucking himself away and zipping up his pants.

"Warn a guy," Clint said to Phil, his eyes narrowed.

Phil offered him his handkerchief, and Clint scrubbed the come off his face. "You don't usually care," Phil pointed out.

"You can do it if you want, but you can't just do it out of nowhere," Clint told him.

"I pulled out," Phil said. "That was warning."

"You're such an asshole, sir," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Put your clothes back on," Phil said to both of them. He looked between them. "Take a shower first. Sundown's in 2 hours."

"Will do," Steve said, letting Clint up and climbing out of the bed, and Clint carefully sat back.

Oh yeah. Tonight was gonna be hell.

--

In Madrid, Maria knocked a hole in an antique stucco wall.

"Does the Director know what I do to you when I catch you like this, Agent Hill?" Natasha asked, her hand slipping under Maria's skirt. It didn't suit her, but that itself made for a good disguise sometimes.

Maria laughed. "He's male. He gets off on it."

"Good," Natasha said, and Maria sighed as Natasha bit down on her shoulder, sucking hard. Her fingers found their way into Maria's panties, and Natasha shoved the damp material aside, pushing her fingers into her. "You're gonna have plenty to tell him."

Maria didn't bother responding, biting her lip instead so she didn't groan and give away their location. Natasha learned quickly, and this was far from the first time this had happened. She hit all the marks perfectly, but she wouldn't be particularly effective if that were it. She was astounding at improvisation, too, unpredictable, impossible to get bored with or ignore. She didn't even seem to understand that lazy or half-assed was a thing you could be; even when all that was happening was a quick fuck up against the wall ten feet from a busy thoroughfare.

Maria had no intention at all of holding out or making it last. She bucked against Natasha when she came, back arching, head thumping back against the wall. At least, she expected a thump, but she heard a soft crunch instead. Natasha frowned, but it slowly turned into that triumphant smile that Maria hated.

"Good luck," Natasha said, her hips swinging as she walked away.

Maria sighed, straightening her clothes. As she left, she scrubbed her hand through her hair to try and shake the loose, powdery chunks of stucco out of it. She was still trying when she rejoined Director Fury, and his raised eyebrow told her everything she needed to know.

"Situation normal, sir," she said levelly.

It wasn't even a lie. They were, of course, the most successful group of fuckups who had ever existed.