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Chapter Text

Bucky looked over the plans again.


It was the third time he had gone over the extraction details for the mission tomorrow, and it wasn’t even that anything felt off .


But going over the route, looking at the weather conditions and the guard rotations, and reminding himself of his role in everything, was soothing in a way that Bucky would never admit to anyone.


He adjusted the phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder.


“Are you close?” he asked, tracing his finger over the topographical map and tracking the route he would take to get from the landing craft to the position he would hold to cover the rest of the team.


“‘Mmm.. not- not really?” The voice on the other end of the line was breathless, the words practically a growl.


“You’re a terrible liar,” Bucky said, and the voice whined, actually whined.


“C’mon, just-”




“Fine. Fine. Hands are off.”


Bucky had to smirk at the disgruntled tone.


He pulled up the plans for the base and looked at the thickness of the exterior walls. Again.


“I think we should put the explosives on the north wall,” Bucky decided.


“Yeah? Why not the east?” Clint asked, somehow knowing what Bucky was thinking about even though their previous conversation had had nothing at all to do with the mission tomorrow, and everything to do with Clint’s dick.


“Fewer load-bearing columns on the north wall.”


“Huh. Yeah, that might be better, then,” Clint agreed.


“You can start again,” Bucky said as he typed up a message and sent it off to the rest of the team with his suggestion.


“You gonna let me finish this time?” Clint asked, sounding a little petulant.


“You gonna sass me about it?”


Clint grumbled something under his breath, and Bucky pretended not to hear him.


He closed the plans before he started to tear apart the entire mission.


He had done that before, twice, and hadn’t been thanked for it. Even Natasha had told him that it wasn’t necessary, that sometimes when people did things differently than him, that didn’t mean they were going to do it wrong .


“You remember that time we fucked on the shooting range?” Clint asked.


Bucky snorted.


“Which time?”


“The- the time when you just got back from Rome. When-”


“When I fucked you against the wall, and you came so hard you nearly put my eye out? Yeah, I remember.”


“Mm. Yeah. That was good.”


“You saying there are times when it’s not?”


“No, nope, not once. Not even- Hey, whaddya think about tying me up sometime?”


“Ropes or chains? Not gonna cuff you, You’d just get out of ‘em right away.”


“Yeah,” Clint agreed, and his voice had that familiar quality to it, hazy and-


“Stop,” Bucky ordered.


Clint grumbled, calling Bucky a name he was going to regret later.


“Rope,” Bucky decided. “I could spread you out and tie you down to the table.”


“You promise?”


“You gonna do anything stupid on the mission tomorrow?”


“...What’s your definition of stupid?”


Bucky sighed.


“Pretty much anything you think is a good idea,” he acknowledged.


“Hey, now. I think fucking you’s a good idea.”


“Which only proves my point. You can start again.”


“You’re such an asshole,” Clint sighed, but Bucky could hear him complying, could hear the faint sound of skin on skin, and after a moment, he could hear the change in Clint’s breathing.


“Pretty sure that’s not news to anyone.”


“Yeah, well. What about- blindfolds?”


“Me or you?” Bucky asked uneasily.


“Me. Not you. Blindfold me. Bet I can still find your dick.”


“With your mouth or your ass?”


“Both. Guaranteed.”




Clint was a lot more adventurous than Bucky, but Bucky wasn’t complaining. Hadn’t yet, anyway.


“What about-”




Christ . How do you know ?”


“Because I’ve been fucking you for months, Clint, and I’m observant. I know when you’re close.”


“Ugh. How much longer are you gonna keep this up?”


“How much longer are you gonna keep it up?” Bucky shot back at him.


“Touche,” Clint acknowledged with a warm laugh.


“It’s only been forty minutes. Think you can last an hour?”


“You gonna reward me?”


“Sure. Maybe I’ll finally let you come.”


“I hate you.”


“No, you don’t.”


Clint sighed.


“No, I don’t,” he agreed. “How do you feel about lingerie?”


“On you or me?”




Bucky swallowed carefully.


“Start again.”



Chapter Text


“You know, I’m not attracted to most of you.”


The words made Bucky pause. He’d been giving Clint a rim job. Had been, he’d thought, doing a damn good job.


He sat up on the bed and looked down the length of Clint’s naked body to meet his eyes.




Clint’s eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open.


“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that!”


“How did you mean it?” Bucky asked, because the words seemed fairly… self-explanatory.


“No, no. Not- I’m totally attracted to most of you.”


“You just said-”


“I meant , I’m not attracted to most of you.”


“But you-”


Clint held up both hands, one over the other, in a time-out gesture.


“Let me start over,” Clint said after a moment of tense silence between them.


“By all means,” Bucky growled.


Clint sighed.


“I meant, I’m not attracted to most of you, I’m attracted to all of you. As in, every part of you. All of you.” Clint gestured, hands waving in a circle to fully encompass Bucky’s naked body where he was kneeling between Clint’s legs.


“Thank… you?” Bucky tried to figure out what kind of response Clint expected, tried to figure out why the hell Clint was making the non-unusually-clumsy compliment at that moment.


Clint sighed, and Bucky could see and hear his frustration.


“No, no. I- Can I just?”


“Can you what?” Bucky literally had no idea what Clint was on about.


Clint reached for Bucky, for his left arm, and his fingers circled Bucky’s wrist in a light hold.


Bucky arched an eyebrow.


Clint had never been shy about the prosthetic. Not in training, not in their bed or any other place.


Using his grip on Bucky’s wrist, Clint guided Bucky’s metal hand between his legs and curved his fingers against Clint’s ass.


Bucky held his breath.


Clint had never shied away from the arm, but Bucky had never been entirely comfortable using it for anything gentle, for anything that required the level of care and attention and perfection that he didn’t think himself fully capable of.


“I’m attracted to all of you, Bucky,” Clint repeated.


It hit Bucky all in a rush, and it left him smirking.


“You’ve got a metal arm kink, don’t you?”


Clint flushed, skin turning almost tomato-red.


“I- It’s not- I wouldn’t call it a kink . I just- I think- I’m just saying-”


“Shh,” Bucky continued to smirk. “Don’t hurt yourself there. You want me to fuck you with the fist of Hydra, don’t you?”


Clint swallowed hard, throat working.


“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” he asked Bucky, voice thin.


Of all the things either of them had ever done, to each other or anyone else, this probably didn’t even merit ranking in the top ten.


Bucky reached for the lube.


“This stuff compromises the machinery, you’re gonna be the one to explain it to Stark,” he threatened.


Clint huffed a laugh.


“‘Hey, Tony, you know how you’re always wanting to give Bucky an upgrade, but he always threatens to show you just how effective his arm already is at dismemberment? Well, we were fucking last night and- Jesus Christ, Bucky !”


Bucky had to smirk as Clint practically curled into a sitting position and his mouth dropped open.


“Is that- Is your finger vibrating ?”




Chapter Text


Bucky found him at a shitty pizza place in a shitty part of Brooklyn.


Clint was alone, at a table in the back, less than half a pizza left in front of him and the Mets game on the television across from him.


He’d at least scrounged up some bandaids for his face and an ace bandage for his wrist. It wasn’t the medical attention that he needed, but Bucky knew it was all that Clint would go for.


He sat down in the seat across from Clint, leaving his own back exposed to the front door of the shop, and picked up a slice of pizza.


Clint looked at him, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, but he didn’t say anything.


“Is this... barbecue sauce?” Bucky spluttered after his first bite.


“What, they didn’t do that back in the golden days?” Clint muttered.


Which, well, went a long way to answering the question of why he was sitting here sulking alone instead of sticking around when Steve had pulled Bucky aside to talk to him after the mission.


“Nah, we’d barely figured out how to shred cheese back then,” Bucky snarked back at him.


Clint’s lips twitched, but he stuffed another bite of pizza into his own mouth to avoid talking.


He was good at avoiding talking, Bucky had learned about ten minutes after he first met Clint. Or, if not good at it, very, very determined.


Bucky, however, was very good at waiting. Better than Clint was at sulking, in any case.


Eventually, when they were down to the last slice, Clint sighed and shoved it towards Bucky.


“You n’ Cap all squared up, now?” Clint asked, and he probably thought his tone was neutral, but between the way he refused to meet Bucky’s eyes and the slight rasp in his voice, he was anything but.


“Steve and I have been squared up for a long time now, Clint.”


Finally, the other man looked directly at Bucky.


Bucky left the slice untouched, and instead stood up and held out his hand.


Clint stared at him in confusion, and after a minute, Bucky reached down and grabbed his uninjured hand.


He used it to pull Clint to his feet, and then dragged him towards the bathroom.


“What- what are you doing?” Clint demanded, sounding a little panicked as Bucky shoved the door open with his shoulder.


Bucky tugged Clint into the small room, and then shoved Clint’s back against the door to close it.


“I’m doing what I wanted to do after Steve and I finished talking. But you ran off because you keep getting all of these stupid ideas about me n’ Steve.”


Clint swallowed hard, but Bucky had to give him credit for not looking away.


“Yeah, well. You and Steve - you’re kind of, a thing. This huge thing that-”


Bucky reached for Clint’s fly.


“-that. Jesus, Bucky, what are you doing?”


“I’m getting your dick out, and I’m gonna blow you. Because that shot you took? When you shot that guy’s hand before he could hit the panic button? Sexiest thing I’ve seen all week.”


Clint opened his mouth, but seemed to struggle to come up with something to say.


Bucky unzipped his jeans and reached in to shove down Clint’s boxers and pull out his dick.


“Seriously. If there hadn’t been another thirty assholes to take out, I’d have sucked you off right then and there.”


“It wasn’t that great a shot.”


Bucky knelt down in front of Clint and looked up, making sure he had Clint’s entire focus before he spoke again.


“Better than I could have done.”



Chapter Text

“Nope. Not even close. I mean, it was good - it was really good. Jesus, the angle of your dick in my ass when you bent me over that filing cabinet was perfect. But, no. Not the best fuck we’ve had.”


Bucky frowned and had to reconsider. He’d been pretty sure about his guess, because there were certain things - kinks, Clint called them - that he got off on. Bucky being rough and bending him over things were two of his favorites. And that time, four months ago when they had been at a safehouse and Clint had been mouthy and Bucky had been bored, that time had been very rough.


“Okay,” Clint said, fingers steepled together against his lips as if he was some kind of comic villain about to elaborate on his evil plot to take over the world. He was even sitting in a plush chair, albeit an orthopedic one with wheels on the base. “Okay, your favorite is that time on the rooftop, when I was still in my gear.”


Bucky hummed in appreciation. That had been a good fuck. But it wasn’t his favorite.


“No,” he answered Clint, before giving his next guess. “The beach sex?”


He couldn’t help but grimace a little at the memory, of the sand everywhere .


Clint similarly grimaced. It had been his idea, and while they had both followed-through, it hadn’t been something they had ever tried again.


“No, I mean. It was… I wanted it to be good, but, no.” Clint sighed and gave Bucky an apologetic look, which he shrugged off. They both made mistakes.


Clint spun around in the chair, two lazy circles as he contemplated his next guess.


“Oh!” His eyes lit up as he stopped spinning. “That time on the roof when you were still in your gear.”


Bucky snorted.


“No, but that was good. Real good.” He couldn’t help but smirk as he remembered it.


“Yeah,” Clint wistfully agreed. “Real good.”


“Rome? When we fucked in the alley to throw off our tails?”


Clint snickered.


“Yeah, that’s why we fucked. To throw them off. Not because you’d been a fucking cocktease all night.”


“Me?” Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Was I the one fellating cannoli? Was I the one talking about creamy fillings and-”


“I was talking about dessert! About how absolutely fucking delicious cannoli is! It’s not my fault your brain is always in the gutter.”


Clint was smirking, broad enough to show a flash of white teeth, and Bucky had to roll his eyes.


“But no, that’s not the best time we’ve fucked. Oh! That time we did it in Tony’s pool?”


“No, definitely not that time.” He’d been so anxious about them getting caught by someone that he’d barely been able to get off. “Paris. After the Olympics, when we took out those terrorists and you tied me up with those silk scarves.”


Clint’s smirk turned into a grin, and he sighed lustily, eyes growing a little dark, and stretched his legs out in front of himself.


“Fuck, yes . Best sex we’ve ever had. God. That was a night to remember.”


Bucky nodded, acknowledging that it had been good - because it had been. It had been amazing, even. But still not his favorite.


Clint must have seen that on his face.


“What - that wasn’t the best for you? Seriously? I spent almost an hour eating your ass.”


“I’m not saying it was bad. It was good. Top five, for sure.”


“Top- top five ?! Oh my god, seriously? Then what was the best for you?”


Clint seemed genuinely frustrated that they didn’t share the same opinion of when their best sex had been, and Bucky was torn between amusement and feeling a little guilty. Especially since his favorite time was at just about the opposite end of the spectrum from Clint’s.


“Our first time,” he admitted.


“Our- our first time,” Clint repeated it, sounding as if he didn’t quite believe Bucky at first, but by the end of the sentence, Clint’s expression softened. “Your favorite time was when I said you were a cock-hungry asshole and I promised to make you choke on my cock?”


Bucky nodded, and then shrugged.


“You weren’t wrong. And you kept your promise.”


“Yeah, but- You liked the dirty talk, didn’t you? You did . Oh my god, I get it now. You do - you love it when I talk dirty to you! You-”


“Okay, okay, please, can one of you just shoot me already?”


The interruption came from the man currently tied to a support column, duct-taped in place from his shoulders to his ankles.


“Excuse me?” Clint glared at him. “Were we disturbing your quiet time to reminiscence about your evil plans to take over the world?”


“I only wanted to take over Roosevelt Island,” the guy demurred.


“And I only wanted to stay in bed and get fucked into oblivion this morning,” Bucky muttered, “but here we are. Were we offendin’ your delicate sensibilities?”


The guy turned red, and licked his lips as he looked between Bucky and Clint.


“Look, I’m not- It’s not the gay thing! I promise. I mean, hey, I’m super straight, but my girl put her finger in my ass once. I mean, it’s 2018, everyone eats ass, right? It’s not- it’s not that!”


Clint got out of his rolling chair and stalked over to the guy, stopping just short of him and making the guy jerk his head back, only to smack it against the support column. Bucky smirked.


“Then what was it?”


The guy looked between them, eyes wide with fear.


“It’s just- You two are- You’re really fucking scary! And your sex- You two have sex everywhere, and you- It’s just- You two are into some kinky shit, okay!”


Bucky frowned. Were they?


He looked at Clint, who shrugged one shoulder.


“The swing was… maybe a little kinky? And the double penetration with the sniper rifle? I guess?”


“Not as kinky as that time-”


“Please! You don’t have to talk about it!” the guy practically screamed. “I’m already going to have nightmares about the Iron Man suit! Please don’t ruin anything else for me!”


“Ruin? You mean like that time I ruined his ass with my- bunny costume!” Clint snapped his fingers and turned to face Bucky with a manic expression on his face. “The bunny costume, come on - that has to be in your top five!”


Bucky didn’t even bother to kill his grin.


“Yeah,” he agreed. “That one was definitely top five.”


“Please, just kill me now,” the guy groaned. “Please. I promise to never try to take over anything again - not even a parking spot. Just please, please, kill me now.”


“But we haven’t even talked about our favorite threesomes yet!” Clint slapped the guy on his back and resumed his seat in the rolling chair. “Plus, we’ve still got at least twenty minutes before the cops get here to pick you up. Okay, Buck, best threesome… That time with Vision? Or the time with Natasha?”




Chapter Text

Bucky took a step back to admire his handiwork.


“Anywhere too tight?” he asked. “Or too loose?”


“Uhhh…” Clint tugged, wriggled around, but aside from his whole body shaking back and forth a bit, didn’t really move. “Feels good.”


Bucky nodded and met Clint’s gaze.


Upside down, Clint’s face was flushed with the rush of blood to his head, but he still managed to look relaxed, and he smirked at Bucky.


It had been Clint’s idea - well, Clint’s boast - that had set this in motion.


In Bucky’s experience, Clint could get out of any bondage - any . Even those damn magnetic cuffs Tony had developed for the eventuality of Bucky possibly going insane and trying to kill them all.


So, when Clint had shrugged and said that Bucky could tie him up, upside down to an I-beam, and he would still be able to get out of it in less than ten minutes, Bucky had taken him up on it.


“Ten minutes, and you’ll be out, huh?” Bucky asked.


Clint gave another tug on the ropes.


“Yep. Ten minutes. So, whatcha gonna give me when I win?”


Bucky raised his eyebrows, and then shrugged.


“Dunno. But I know what you’re gonna give me when you lose.”


Clint gave a disbelieving snort.


“Well, seeing as how it’s not gonna happen, go ahead and share your fantasy with the class.”


“You’re gonna burn that bunny suit of yours.”


Clint looked horrified.


“What? You want me to burn Mr. Hoppity?”


“Please don’t call it that.”


“But- Buck, that’s just cruel .”


“Well, if it’s not gonna happen, what does it matter?” Bucky smirked.


Clint rolled his eyes, which was impressively effective from his upside down position.


“Fine. Fine. But, when I win, you’re gonna wear Mr. Hoppity when we go over to Tony’s tomorrow.”


Bucky glared.


“There’s no way in hell I’m doing that.”


“Well, if it’s not gonna happen, what does it matter?” Clint parroted back.


Which - well, Bucky had been thinking about making this task a little more difficult for Clint. But those words and Clint’s smug smirk settled it.


“Fine,” Bucky agreed. He pulled out his phone and set the timer. “Clock’s ticking.”


Clint immediately started trying to work his hands free.


Bucky, meanwhile, unzipped his pants.


“What- what are you doing?” Clint was, predictably, distracted.


“Taking off my pants. And my briefs.” Bucky stepped out of both and walked over to Clint.


Clint, who swallowed hard, licked his lips, and seemed to just now realize how precisely Bucky had rigged him.


“You asshole,” Clint groaned as Bucky stepped close enough that his dick was within reach of Clint’s mouth.


Bucky smirked down at him and reached for the fly of Clint’s pants. He had left a good six inches of Clint’s groin and thighs free of ropes, and Clint groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut.


“I hate you,” Clint muttered.


“Mmhm. Sure you do, sweetheart. Now, you got less than nine minutes to get out of those ropes. Don’t let me distract you.”


“You-   unf .”


Bucky smirked around his mouthful, not at all surprised that Clint was already half-hard.


All he needed to do was distract Clint long enough, and he’d be able to burn that damn bunny suit.



Chapter Text



The gym was empty, except for Bucky and Wanda. He had been showing her a few hand-to-hand moves so that the next time she trained with Clint, she could maybe get the drop on him. Bucky didn’t see it as interfering - Clint had trained Wanda since day one, and he’d done a damn fine job of it - but when Wanda came to Bucky and asked for a few tricks, well, Bucky was only human.


“You stupid asshole.”


The first shout had distracted Bucky enough that Wanda actually managed to flip him onto his back on the mat.


The second shout had both Bucky and Wanda looking at the entrance to the gym.


“Uh oh,” Wanda muttered.


Uh oh was right.


Stalking across the gym towards them, wearing a sleeveless purple tank and tight black sweatpants, was none other than Clint himself.


“What in the actual fuck were you thinking?” Clint snarled, sounding madder than Bucky had ever heard him, and looking it too.


“Is he mad at me or you?” Wanda asked.


“You’re the one with the mind-reading powers, how the fuck am I supposed to know if you don’t?” Bucky groused.


She shrugged, as if conceding the point.


“I am going to fuck you up so much, Barnes. Do you have any idea - any - what it’s like to share a hotel suite with Tony and Steve when Tony’s drunk and they’re both fucking horny after spending all day yelling at Congress? Do you?”


Wanda gave Bucky a sympathetic smile.


“I’m going to leave,” she said. “It was nice to have known you.”


“Coward,” he growled after her, still lying on the floor, because what he knew about Clint meant that he probably wouldn’t attack him while he was at a disadvantage. Probably.


The furious scowl on his face made Bucky kind of doubt that, however.


Clint came to a stop just a few feet from Bucky, hands on his hips, glaring down at him.


“Am I supposed to apologize?” Bucky finally asked.


It was clearly the wrong thing to say.


“Are you- Yeah, yeah, you fucking are, you asshole. You were supposed to be the one to go down there. You were supposed to be the third wheel for that fuck-fest, but instead, because you’re a stupid asshole, you went and got yourself shot last week, and so I had to go and do it.”




“Oh, fuck the fuck right off, Barnes.”




Clint snorted and crossed his arms over his chest.


“Nope. Sorry, pal.”


“You agreed to call me Bucky. You said you didn’t think I’d murder you.”


“Yeah, well, now I’m not so sure I won’t murder you . Asshole.”


“You seem awfully fixated on my ass,” Bucky drawled, because there were only so many times he could hear Clint call him that without reacting to it.


Clint’s eyes narrowed and grew cold enough that Bucky almost felt like he was looking in the mirror.


“Maybe I am,” Clint actually growled, and Bucky’s mouth suddenly felt like the Sahara desert.


Clint closed the distance between them, sank down to his knees beside Bucky, and then, without warning, reached over and manhandled Bucky across his thighs.


Bucky was too stunned to fight back at first, and by the time he tried to throw off Clint’s hold, his ass was already in the air and Clint had one powerful arm braced across Bucky’s back.


“You wanna act like that? Fine.”


And then Clint brought his other hand down onto Bucky’s ass, palm open, in a slap so loud and hard Bucky gasped.


“But you’re being a brat - getting me sent down to DC with those two, and then hanging out up here with my trainee.”


Clint slapped him - spanked him - again, and Bucky dug his fingers into the fabric of Clint’s sweatpants. He wasn’t holding back at all .


And Bucky - Bucky hadn’t been treated like this since he was twelve and still small enough for his pa to put him over his knee without being afraid Bucky would hit back. Bucky hadn’t been treated like this in a lifetime .


“You think I was tryin’ to steal her from you, or somethin’?” Bucky snapped.




Another spank.


“Could you even blame her if she liked me better?” Bucky asked with forced bravado, tried to smirk even though Clint couldn’t see it.


Clint spanked him again, hard enough that Bucky rocked forward on his hips and-


And shit.




That was Clint’s dick.


And Clint’s dick was not soft.


And Clint’s dick was not small.


And that- that was not fair.


“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” Clint’s voice was low, his breathing harsh and ragged.


Another spank, and Bucky moved with the impact on purpose this time, grinding his hips down over Clint’s dick, and Clint sucked in a breath.


“Then what are you worried about?” Bucky demanded, trying really hard not to feel embarrassed about the fact that he was getting hard while lying over Clint’s lap while Clint spanked him in the middle of the gym.


“I don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about, do I?” Clint was back to growling, and he landed three blows to Bucky’s ass in quick, blindingly-painful succession.


“No,” Bucky moaned, actually moaned, and dear fucking god, he was never going to live this down.


“That’s right, I don’t. Because you’re not just a stupid asshole, are you? You’re a cock-hungry asshole, aren’t you?”


Bucky moaned again, and he blushed at the sound, at the way he was writhing on Clint’s lap and-


“Think you’ll behave if I make you choke on my cock?”


“Oh, fuck yes.” Bucky gave up all pretense at being held in place by Clint, and he rolled off his lap and onto his back, bringing Clint with him and rolling them again until Clint was on his back and Bucky was above him.


Clint grinned up at him.


“You finally gonna kiss me or what, asshole?” Clint asked.


“Fuck you.”


“Gotta kiss me first, babe.”



Chapter Text

The email looked like any other intel dossier.


Addressed to Barnes, J., the sender identified only by the letters AI - which was handily the initials for Avengers Initiative, Avengers Intelligence, and Artificial Intelligence. Tony had been delighted when Bucky acknowledged the multi-layered pun.


The subject line was a string of letters and numbers, part of the code/filing system used for all intel. The letters identified the projected impact of the threat - personal, and the numbers identified the level of concern - high.


Bucky frowned as he opened the email. No one else had been on the address list, and if the threat was as high as the numbers indicated, that seemed like an error.


The body of the email was blank, the intel, as usual, attached as a file.


Bucky downloaded it and opened it immediately and -


And looked at a photograph of a dick and thighs wrapped with bright purple ropes. The ropes were intricately knotted and wrapped and -


And Bucky recognized that dick.


And those thighs.


He reached for his phone.


Clint answered on the first ring.


“Make it quick, babe, I’m in the middle of beating my own high score on Galaga.”


Bucky rolled his eyes. Clint could be lying, but it also sounded one-hundred percent like something he would actually be doing.


“Just got an email with intel for a possible mission.”


“Oh yeah? Anything with cool explosions?”


Bucky couldn’t help his snort of amusement.


“Maybe,” he allowed. “But it looks like it might be a two-man operation. You in?”


“Hmm. I dunno. What’s in it for me?”


Bucky looked at the photo again.


“How about my dick?”


“Yep. Be there in fifteen. Oh, and if you look in the third drawer of the dresser, there’s a bunch of rope. Red rope.”


“Oh, really?”


“Uh… maybe?”


“How the hell did you hack the intel database and send that email?” Bucky had to ask.


“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And I’m not gonna kill you when there’s cool explosions and your dick on the line, babe.”



Chapter Text

“You’re an asshole.”


It wasn’t the first time Bucky had called Clint that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last, but in this particular instance, it was very fitting.


Clint just grinned at him.


“Don’t like the music?”


Bucky glared.


“Oh, no. I love the music. ‘I Will Survive’ is one of my favorite songs. I ever tell you about the time I saw her in concert?”


“No, but you told me about the guy you assassinated at the concert.”


Bucky’s glare had zero effect on Clint.


The same glare that had, on seven separate occasions, made bad guys literally piss themselves.


And Clint just grinned.


He patted his thighs.


“C’mon, slugger. Show me your moves.”


“I really hate you,” Bucky growled.


“I know. With the fiery passion of a thousand suns.”


“Ten thousand. Maybe fifteen.”


“There’s the spirit. Go big or go home.”


“You realize I’m never going to forgive you for this, right?”


Clint’s grin finally diminished. He arched an eyebrow at Bucky.


“You realize that I’m never going to forgive you for what you did, right?”


Bucky sighed and rolled his shoulders. The weight of Clint’s gaze was heavy and -


“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”


“C’mere,” Clint said, with none of his earlier teasing tone.


Bucky walked over, let Clint pull him down onto his lap.


They were both shirtless, because Clint had insisted on doing this after their workout downstairs, and Bucky had already started to strip off his sweaty clothes.


Clint traced the bright pink scar over Bucky’s heart.


“You almost died on me, baby,” Clint said, voice raw.


Clint pressed his lips to the mark.


“Watching you fall - seeing all the blood - knowing I couldn’t do anything to help you - fuck, Bucky, you got no idea how much that fucked me up. You’re my whole world, you know that, right?”


Bucky pulled Clint’s face against his chest and wrapped his arms around Clint’s head.


“Yeah. I know. Me too.”


Clint bit his nipple hard enough that Bucky hissed and shoved him away.


“Good. Now give me a lap dance and let this be your lesson - don’t you dare almost die on me again, or I’m gonna make you do the next one to a song from Moana .”


“You’re a monster.”


“Yep. Now get to it, sexy.”




Chapter Text

Bucky sighed and looked down at his boots.


They were his mission boots, leather and ballistic nylon, with shock-absorbing soles and waterproofed. Tony had put some kind of antimicrobial coating on them too, but that didn’t seem able to stop them from scuffing and getting dirty.


With a grimace, Bucky lifted his right foot and rubbed at a spot of dirt. Dirt that came off as a kind of pinkish-brown color and-


Yep. That was blood, not dirt.


He gave up on trying to make them cleaner, and instead looked at his watch.




Clint said he would be there by twenty-two hundred, and Bucky was hopeful that this wouldn’t be one of those times when he was late.


Bucky was already feeling ridiculous, wearing his mission boots and his black tac pants - pants that were, mercifully, clean and blood-free - and nothing else, as per Clint’s request.


Clint sometimes had some odd requests, the night of the peanut butter coming to mind all too easily, but this one was… more than a little odd.


Finally, Bucky heard the door to their apartment open, and he sighed in relief.


Clint almost always made Bucky feel less ridiculous, whether the situation had something to do with sex or anything else.


Bucky waited, listening to the sounds of Clint in the apartment - the other man taking off his shoes, his jacket, tripping over the coffee table that still hadn’t changed location since Bucky had moved in four months ago, no matter what Clint claimed every time he ran into it.


And then Clint was walking into the bedroom, grin on his face and a bottle of clear, tinted liquid in one hand.


Clint was smirking, eyes bright and-


His eyes went wide, and his smirk slid into a confused twist of his lips.


“Why are you wearing your mission gear?” Clint asked. “Are those boots even- Is it even sanitary to have those on our carpet?”


Bucky glared at him.


“You said boots - you texted me this morning saying you wanted to spend all night worshiping my boots.”


Clint’s eyebrows rose.


“Why would I want to spend all night worshipping your boots?”


“Why would you want to spend all night running an arrowhead over my ass? I don’t ask those kinds of questions about you, Clint.”


Clint shrugged and nodded to concede the point.


“Okay, that’s fair. But the arrowhead thing - you said you liked it. You did, right?”


“Yes. It was amazing. Which is why I went ahead and put on my disgusting boots when you asked me to.”


“No, no,” Clint shook his head and reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone. “I texted you saying… I said ‘I want to worship that booty all night’. Oh. Oh . The phone autocorrected it to boots. Huh.”


“Yeah. Huh.”


Clint grinned.


“So, what, you thought I wanted to, like… lick them clean, or something?”


Bucky spread his hands wide.


“I didn’t fucking know! I’m just along for the ride, Clint.”


Clint’s grin turned a bit predatory, and he hefted the bottle in his hand.


“Well, I was gonna use this massage oil on your fine ass, but I guess I could use it on your boots instead? They look like they need a little maintenance.”


Clint just barely ducked the first boot that Bucky threw at his head.


He had to drop the bottle of massage oil to catch the second one.


Bucky shoved down his pants.


“Get over here,” he growled.


Clint dropped the boot and pounced.



Chapter Text


“I don’t know.”


Bucky arched an eyebrow at Clint.


“You don’t know,” he echoed.


Clint shrugged.


“I just… it feels kind of wrong, doesn’t it?”


“The concept or -”


“No, not the concept. All onboard for the concept. It’s the…” Clint waved his hands expansively, but the gesture didn’t help explain his hesitation to Bucky at all.


“The… buying it in public?” Bucky hazarded and glanced around them. The store was fairly empty, which wasn’t surprising considering that it was ten in the morning on a tuesday. Bucky was frankly amazed Clint was there at that hour.


“No. I’ve got no shame, you know that.”


Bucky did, in fact, know that.


“Then what is it?”


“It’s just…”


Clint sighed, shrugged, and shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets, pulling them down low on his waist and giving Bucky a glimpse of the fine trail of blond hair that led from Clint’s naval to his groin.


If Bucky hadn’t already been thinking about sex, that would have definitely steered his mind in that direction.


Even so, Bucky forced himself to try to decode Clint’s body language.


“There are other versions, if you don’t like any of these,” Bucky said.


“That’s not the problem. I like them. I did research on this model - it’s actually really good.” Clint picked up the product on display and held it between himself and Bucky. “See, it’s got the three different vibration settings, and it has the… the bulbs or whatever, and then it has the external stimulation - it’s good. It has high review ratings.”


“You sound like you work here,” Bucky had to say.


Clint gave him a look.


“I did research. It’s not that big of a deal.”


“No,” Bucky agreed. “It’s not. But if you did all this research, why are you all…” Bucky had to resort to Clint’s vague hand gesture to describe Clint’s current state.


Clint sighed once again and his shoulders slumped.


“Because I can’t choose . I mean, can you ? Like…” Clint put the display model back and picked up one of the packaged vibrators. “If we get the Black Widow model, are we saying that we’re fantasizing about Nat pegging us?”


“Is that a bad thing?” Bucky asked, already fantasizing about it.


“Okay, but so we’re saying we want that over…” Clint put down the box with the black and red vibrator and picked up a red, white and blue one. “Over getting railed by the most American vibe of all time? Or is that, like, defiling a national icon?”


Bucky paused to consider that, but Clint was already moving on.


“Then there’s Tony’s stupid red and gold one - but look at it, the asshole actually managed to get them to add an extra inch to it - and don’t tell me that doesn’t appeal to you. But then there’s… Wanda’s, which just feels kind of… wrong, right? Vision’s which - I mean, we remember what it felt like to actually get fucked by Vis… so that might be fun… and then there’s Sam’s - and he would never let you live it down if he knew you bought a Falcon vibrator. Rhodey’s is kind of… boring? And then there’s yours and mine - and is it just kind of, egocentric to want to get fucked by the Hawkeye vibe? And then what about -”


Bucky swept the entire row up into his arms.


“We’ll buy one of each. We won’t use Wanda’s - or Peter’s - but we wouldn’t want their sales figures to be negatively impacted,” Bucky reasoned. He shoved a few of the boxes into Clint’s arms.


The sales clerk, who had already been told three times, very politely, that they didn’t need any help, could only look at them with wide eyes as both men dumped the boxes of vibrators onto the counter in front of her.


“Uh… did you guys see that we have Fantastic Four lubricants?”


“Fuck those guys,” Clint growled.


Bucky nodded in agreement.


X-Men condoms?” The clerk tried again.


Clint cocked his head to the side in consideration.


“You got Magneto ones?”


Bucky glared at him, but Clint just continued to grin as the clerk went off to grab them.


“You’re not funny,” Bucky told him.


Clint pressed a quick, hard kiss to Bucky’s lips.


“I’m fucking hilarious.”

Chapter Text

Team meetings were rare these days.


In fact, Bucky couldn’t remember the last time they had had one.


There had been one when he joined the team. One when Peter officially did. One when Scott joined. One when Scott was kicked off the team. One when he was invited back. One when Steve sort-of but not really retired and Sam became Captain America while Steve became… Commander Rogers. One when Steve decided to publicly out himself as bisexual.


But it had been… at least a year? Since the last team meeting.


Which left Bucky both curious and a little anxious as he settled onto the couch closest to the wall in the common area. He glared at Scott when he tried to sit down next to him, shook his head politely at Wanda, and then smirked when Clint strolled in less than thirty seconds before the start of the meeting and vaulted over the back of the couch to land beside Bucky.


Tony waited until everyone was comfortable, and then he sighed and got that constipated look on his face that meant he had to act like an adult and resented the hell out of whoever had forced him into that position.


“We are gathered here today,” Tony began - Clint snickered, and Tony glared - “to discuss some recent publicity.”


“It wasn’t my fault,” Peter immediately said. “Mr. Stark, I promise that-”


“Pipe down, kid. This isn’t about your most recent fieldtrip. This is about the sexual deviants.”


“Us?” Steve asked, looking shocked.


Tony covered his face with one hand.


And that told Bucky, and everyone else, a lot more than he had wanted to know.


“No,” Tony sighed. “Not us. Not- No. Those sexual deviants.”


He pointed directly at Clint and Bucky.


Bucky glared.


Clint smirked.


“Oooh. What did we do this time?”


Tony’s glare had zero effect on Clint as he pulled up what looked like dozens of newspapers in digital projection.


“Apparently, you were seen giving the Winter Soldier a blowjob in a stairwell in Queens.”


Clint shrugged.


“I probably did. When was that?”


“Last Tuesday,” Bucky answered for Clint, who just looked… resigned.


“And then you ,” Tony pointed to Bucky, “fellated a gun? In public - in front of school children.”


Bucky frowned. He really didn’t remember doing that.


Still, there were days - rare, awful days - when he lost track of time. Maybe-


Oh ,” Clint said. “Oh, no. No, no, no. That’s not what happened. I put chocolate sauce on-”


“Nope,” Tony made a cutting gesture with his hand. “No. Definitely do not want details. I forbid you to say anything more. That’s already more than I ever wanted to know. And those children .”


“Yes, the children,” Natasha echoed, but she was looking at Bucky and Clint with a gleam in her eyes.


Clint blushed and had to look away from her, Bucky arched an eyebrow, and she smirked and nodded.


“I don’t- Oh my god,” Tony covered his face with his hands again. “Are you three- Did you just -”


“I thought you didn’t want to know any details,” Bucky said.


“One, fuck you. Two- No. No , not like that. Steve, do not give me that look - and don’t give him that look either. Can you just- Why the hell am I the only grown-up in the room?”


“I’m confused about why we’re in a team meeting when it seems to me like all we’re gonna do is listen to the whole… Team Winterhawk or whatever sexual exploits,” Sam said.


“Team Winterhawk?” Clint echoed, and turned to Bucky. “That sounds pretty cool.”


Bucky privately agreed, but he and Sam still based their friendship almost entirely on giving each other shit. So he wasn’t going to publically agree.


“And then the Mayor called me this morning - the Mayor of New York City - and that is why we are having a team meeting. Because apparently Team Winterhawk had sex in her office-”


“She wasn’t there!” Clint jumped in.


“-with another Avenger, who will not be named, but who knows who they are and should be ashamed of what they did-”


“No need to degrade someone for a healthy sexual appetite,” Bucky argued.


Tony glared.


“You fucked them against the wall in the Mayor’s office, and the windows were open and people could see you three. If you want to talk about degradation-”


“Actually,” Clint held up a finger, “Bucky and I kind of have that one as a hard no. Kind of triggery for us? All things considered?”


For a moment, Tony was totally derailed, and he looked between the two of them, his grimace easing.


But then he must have realized Clint was playing him.


“Okay. Bullshit. You two,” he pointed at each of them in turn, “are- You’re grounded. Until you can figure out how to have sex in private, like normal humans, and stop fucking inappropriate people in inappropriate places!”


“Grounded, huh?” Bucky asked, and leaned back against the couch cushions. “So Clint and I can’t leave the compound? Until we learn to have sex in private?”


Clint smirked.


“You want to get started on practicing that right now?” he asked Bucky.


“Sure, you slut,” Bucky said, and stood up. He held out a hand to Clint.


“Later, losers,” Clint said as he took it.


Together, they left the rest of the team staring after them.




Chapter Text

As predicted, Clint came to a dead stop when he walked into the apartment and saw Bucky.


“Uh, hi,” Clint managed to finally say after what Bucky was confident had been five solid minutes of silence from him.


Five minutes of silence and a lot of staring.


To be fair to Clint, there was a lot to stare at.


Bucky had done some slight renovations to the apartment while Clint was away on his mission, and of course, there was the wardrobe change for himself.


“Hi,” Bucky replied with a smirk.


Clint finally dropped his duffle bag to the floor and remembered to close and lock their front door.


“You, uh, you look fucking spectacular,” Clint finally remembered how to use the English language.


Bucky arched an eyebrow and looked down at himself, ran a hand over his bare chest and over the black satin stomacher, panties and garter belt. He left his fingers play with the lacy tops of the black silk stockings.


“Yeah?” He fluttered his eyelashes at Clint and toyed with the black feather boa he had wrapped around his neck.


He thought the boa was overkill, but Clint, apparently, did not.


Bucky watched the other man lick his lips and then bite his lower lip.


“Yeah,” Clint assured him with a vigorous nod. “Don’t think I’ve ever gotten harder faster. Just fucking look at you.”


“I’m not that much of a narcissist,” Bucky pointed out.


Clint snorted, but his gaze strayed from Bucky to the ‘renovations.’


“You installed the pole?”


“I had help.”


“Please tell me it wasn’t Natasha, she still won’t let the whole swing thing drop. Every fucking mission she brings it up.”


“Not Natasha. Tony.”


“Tony? Tony Stark ?” Clint looked ready to pass out at that news. “You’re joking.”


“Nope. He helped me and I helped him.”


Clint frowned in suspicion.


“Helped him with what?”


“Helped him install his own stripper pole.”


Clint looked like Christmas had come twice.


“You mean - oh my God. You mean right now Tony Stark is giving Cap - oh my God.”


“The pole wasn’t for Tony to use.”


If possible, Clint looked even more delighted.


“Christ, growing up in the Depression made you boys so fucking kinky.”


“You complainin’?”


“Oh, hell no. Not even a little.”


Clint sat down on the couch, spread his legs out in front of himself and relaxed back into the cushions.


“Show me your moves, babe.”