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What a glorious victory it had been.  Swift, perhaps, but glorious all the same.  Granted, some of his people had wished for a bit more slaughter, but Loki had been insistent - there wasn’t much point to ruling if there was no one to rule, after all.  And though Midgardians hadn’t taken well to being owned, they had learned to live with it.  To deny servitude was to fight a losing battle.

And now that he’d settled the last few pockets of resistance, Loki was in the market for some serious stress relief.

"She’s lovely," he hummed pleasantly, running his fingers through a wild tangle of red hair.  The owner of those crimson curls scowled up at him from behind her bite mask, and Loki could read every threat she had for him without needing a word from her.  "Though it seems you’ve still got quite a bit of work to do."

The seller looked down at her with obvious frustration before glancing up at Loki.  "Ah…yes.  She wasn’t exactly born into the service, milord."

"Hm, I didn’t suppose she would be."  Loki looked at him through half-lidded eyes, the moss-green gaze sharp and curious.  "And what could you show me in terms of a more cooperative slave?"

"Only men, I’m afraid.  All the women we have left range from feisty to homicidal."

"I’ll take either with the same amount of desire."  Loki drew his lower lip into his mouth, biting excitedly.  He would have taken either, but now that he thought about it, he was definitely more in the mood for a man.  "Please, lead the way."

Loki was led down the aisles of the slave trader’s stock, and he admired lithe, strong backs and stubbled jaws on either side of him.  Black hair, blonde hair, red hair, blonde hair, skin like bronze and caramel and ivory and obsidian…thank all the realms, he could certainly afford to be picky here.  He licked his lips and eyed several of them carefully, contemplating buying more than one.

"You like what you see, milord?"

"Very much.  Were they all born into the trade?"

"No.  Many Midgardians considered the business of sex something shameful; both rows closest to the walls are defeated soldiers who have accepted their fate."

Loki’s eyes lit up.  That sounded fun.  He made his way over, expecting to have some searching ahead of him…

…and he was immediately met with a stare almost as intense as his own.  The muscles in his arms would indicate archery training, though Loki understood that to be a dead art among Midgardians.  His skin was pale and tight and it shone with a thin sheen of sweat in the dappled sunlight.  The fact that he did not flinch from Loki’s gaze settled it - he’d have to see what this particular slave had to offer.

"Who is this?" Loki asked.

The seller looked over and smiled.  "That’s Clint Barton.  He was given to me after the battle of - "

"Never mind his credentials.  Is he skilled?" Loki interrupted, glancing over.

The question was met with a smirk.  "Exceptionally."

Loki looked back down at Clint, and he could have sworn the man was attempting to seduce him with his eyes.  He swallowed hard and reached down to stroke his palm across Clint’s cheek.  He leaned into it, breathing a soft, contented sigh against Loki’s skin.  He had to grin; this slave clearly knew what he was doing.

"Is there a room in which I may test him?" Loki queried.

"Of course.  Though there will be a small fee; they do look a bit worse for wear for the day, and that makes it harder to sell them."  The seller lifted his keys from his belt and pointed towards a curtained door off to one side.  "I’m sure you understand."

Loki helped Clint to his feet and watched as the restraints fell away.  He took a moment to appreciate Clint’s form before asking, “So.  Are you excited to service me, Clint?"

Clint tilted his head in consideration.  "That remains to be seen.  I don’t know how you are in the bedroom yet."

The seller sputtered angrily and strode forward, lifting a hand to discipline him, but Loki halted him when he tilted his head back and laughed brightly.  "Oh, you’re fun, aren’t you!"  He nudged Clint towards the door and trailed one hand down his spine, squeezing one side of his finely-toned bottom.  Clint leaned back into his grip, much to Loki’s delight…so he rewarded him by leaning in close and growling against his nape, “We’ll see if you stay so sharp with my cock between your lips."

He could see Clint’s neck muscles tighten and undulate as he swallowed.  "Looking forward to it."

"Oh, I’m sure you are."  Loki continued to move, working through the aisles while making sure Clint was close at hand.  "Tell me, Clint - how many men have you been with?"

Clint followed Loki obediently, matching him step for step, as he was led to a room he’d grown quite familiar with since his capture.  Though Clint was never particularly fond of the things people made him do in there - why would he be? - it sure as hell beat the alternative, which was the arena or death…or, predictably enough, death by arena.  Loki’s question didn’t come as much of a surprise.  "Seven," he answered.

Loki nodded.  "And how many previous masters have you had?"

"None," Clint said, his expression unreadable.

"Oh?"  He turned those wild green eyes on Clint, and Clint was a bit taken aback to see them brimming with humor.  "I thought the slaver said you were extremely skilled," Loki hummed, not seeming particularly bothered by the revelation.

"Yeah.  Apparently, I’m also extremely mouthy."

Loki grinned and pulled aside a crimson curtain to let Clint past - there wasn’t much behind it; a rather rickety-looking cot and an overstuffed chair, but then again, how much did they really need?  "Their loss," he said pleasantly, gesturing to the bed.  "I, for one, prefer a bit of fire in my slaves.  Why buy a toy that someone broke?"

Clint turned to regard him with obvious hesitancy, calves firm against the bed frame - he did not, however, lie down.  Loki, already heated with desire, felt an unexpected rush of lust flare in his belly at the dark and defiant look Clint offered him.  "So you plan on breaking me, then."

"Did I say that?"  Clint bit back a yelp when Loki let the curtain fall closed behind them, extended one slender hand, and pushed him back onto the creaky bed.  "You place words in my mouth.  I do not wish you damaged at all, Clint, not in the slightest.  I wish you whole, healthy…"  Loki dropped to his knees between Clint’s legs, licking his lips in anticipation.  "…and ready for me."

Clint looked at him with wide eyes.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  "Oh."

"Undo the buttons.  Pants only, if you please."

Clint swallowed nervously, then matched his expression with Loki’s - thick, lustful, but with an edge of desperation Loki himself did not possess.  He raised his hands to the thick metal buttons along his groin and gave them a tug, a needy noise rising from his chest when the leather came undone.  Loki worked with his hands, wriggling forward until he straddled Clint’s chest.  Just a bit more…one more button…he growled softly when Clint freed his length from its confines.  The air was cool on his heated flesh, and though the sensation was unpleasant at first, Clint’s sudden panting warmed him quickly.

Clint looked rather intimidated, but he still asked, “What do you want me to do?"

"I thought I told you earlier."  Loki planted one hand on the wall and leaned forward, letting the tip of his cock press against Clint’s cheek.  Clint shivered, and Loki was filled with savage satisfaction when his new slave - because yes, he was going to buy him; he’d decided the moment Clint had dared speak in such a flippant manner to him - offered him a doubtful look.  "Oh, don’t doubt yourself, Clint; I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully."

Right."  Clint didn’t seem particularly confident, but he seemed eager enough when he opened his mouth and kissed along the side of Loki’s shaft, tongue peeking out to trace the veins there.  Loki groaned his approval and let Clint carry on that way for a while - never taking it between his lips, but lavishing it with attention all the same.  He sucked gently on the underside, lathing broad, wet strokes over the tender spots it created; he rolled spit-licked palms over Loki’s balls, squeezing gently as he worked; he moaned when he was pressed hard against him, and it sent shivers to Loki’s core and fanned a fire he hadn’t known in what felt like ages.  Clint was deft with tongue, fingers, and lips, and Loki may have been content to spend himself in that lovely brown-blond hair if he hadn’t made a promise to do otherwise.

"Exquisite," he said, and Loki was a bit surprised to find himself unable to steady his voice.  "But I think you’ve stalled long enough, you lovely thing.  Open your mouth."

Clint hid his nervousness well, but Loki could feel the slight tremor that ran through him when he parted his lips and let Loki push between them.  He liked that subtle rush of fear - both for the adrenaline it sparked and for the heady swell of power it gave him over Clint.  At first, he had planned on seeing what Clint could do when he was actually obliged to suck, but now he was thinking of just rutting into his mouth until he was spent.

Clint could feel their weight shift as Loki tilted his hips, helping him take him deeper.  He whined and relaxed his throat, hands gripping the sheets as Loki rubbed his chest soothingly.  "Such a good boy," he groaned, voice shaking.  "Now, Clint…I’m a bit torn; perhaps you can help me make a rather difficult decision?"  Loki smirked when Clint managed to peer up questioningly, lashes heavy and wet.  "I can’t decide whether to let you finish me yourself, or whether I should simply take what I want from you.  Any preference?"

Clint didn’t have to think twice.  The idea of his mouth being fucked might have appealed to some base instinct that curled inside him like a beast, but not without a hell of a lot more practice.  He immediately hollowed his cheeks and moaned around Loki’s cock, and that, as far as Loki was concerned, was answer enough.  He leaned forward on the heels of both palms, watching Clint move with sloppy determination.  Though his earlier work was calculated and skilled, he now gulped and licked like it was his first time ever doing so.  When he hollowed his cheeks, it was just a bit too gentle, and the juxtaposition between his earlier finesse and this nearly drove Loki to madness.  He moaned and swore, rolling his hips gently, clawing into Clint’s hair when the barest, faintest brush of his teeth sent shocks of pleasure through him.

He gave Clint a ‘naughty boy’ look and stroked the hair he’d just pulled, soothing the ache in his scalp.  "Not too much of that, now," Loki panted, and he nearly buckled when Clint shook his head in silent agreement.  His eyelids fluttered when Clint pressed his tongue up hard, drawing it up towards the tip and humming deep in the back of his throat.  Seven men, and Clint had gotten this good?  Filthy little liar.

Clint keened against Loki’s skin as his ministrations drew thick beads of precome from him.  The taste, Loki’s growing roughness, the tingling numbness in his lips…he was all too familiar with this situation, but for the first time since his defeat, he was looking forward to it.  Hungry for it, even.  When Loki gripped the back of his head and climaxed, pulsing and hot, he shook like a leaf and swallowed convulsively, whining for freedom.

Loki pulled back and he drew in a stuttering breath, coughing and staring up at him through misted eyes.  Loki’s gaze was glassy and sated, and he wiped the pad of one thumb over Clint’s lips almost tenderly.

"Oh, dear - I was a bit rough there, wasn’t I?"

"A bit," Clint rasped sarcastically.  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, wanting to rub his sore jaw, but pinned by Loki’s knees.  Fucking hell.  He knew instinctively that Loki was going to buy him…that meant his future was equal parts intriguing and frightening at this point.  The blowjobs, he could manage, but what in the name of all that was good was he going to when Loki decided he wanted to top him?  Clint let his mind wander, when slender fingers on the tented fabric of his pants brought him back to the moment.  "Ah - !"

"You didn’t think I was going to leave you like this, did you?  It’s a rather long walk back to be made in such a condition."

Clint actually hadn’t thought much about it.  His own pleasure had become a non-factor once he’d been demoted from soldier to slave…but it was evident from the gleam in Loki’s eyes that though his new owner was satisfied, they were nowhere near done.


That seemed like an arrangement he could live with.