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Losing It

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Clint's in the study, playing Call of Duty on the Xbox, when Natasha comes in. He's fine with the interruption only because it's Nat. Ever since they all moved into Tony's place (Clint refuses to call it Avengers Tower on general principle), solitude has been in short supply. She flops down on the couch next to him, makes approving noises while he picks off pretend bad guys from the roof of a bar. Since Natasha isn't one for just hanging around the study, Clint figures something is on her mind. He knows better than to just ask so he continues his hunt for General Amsel. He's taking out the General's bodyguard as a precursor to taking out the General himself when Natasha speaks.

“Our Captain is finally ready to have his weapon inspected.”

It takes a minute for Clint to work that out and when he does, he shoots a confused glance at her. The sound of explosions jerks his attention back to the screen; he's just in time to watch his character die spectacularly. He glares at Natasha.

“Is there a reason I need to know this?”

She shrugs and takes the controller from his hand, uses it to turn the game off. He rolls his eyes, but gets up and ejects the game, switches to the Wii so he can set up bowling instead. She beams at him and he grins back. They play a couple of frames before he questions her again.

“You never told me why I need to know about Cap's sex life.” He takes his turn, and then looks at Natasha with a frown. “It's not you, is it?” One elegant brow arches; he realizes how that sounds and grins sheepishly. “Not that you wouldn't be great. Are great, but you might be a little... intense for his first time.”

“Nice save.” She bowls a strike and flops back onto the couch while Clint takes his turn. “And it’s not me.”

“Thanks.” Clint bowls a spare, which he blames on the fact that he’s still mostly worried about Natasha deciding to take him down for his comment. “Tell me it’s not Darcy.” He shudders. “She’s pretty enough, but she’s fond of that taser. I value my balls too much.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as she gets up to take her turn. “It’s not Darcy.”

“Maria?” Clint frowns. “No, she’s too... Maria.”

“You do know that makes no sense, right?”

Clint’s frown deepens and he manages to screw up the split he was aiming for. “It makes perfect sense. She works too closely with Fury. It’s... wrong.”

“Who should he be sleeping with, then?”

Natasha is watching him closely and it’s really weird. Clint shrugs and watches her throw another damn strike. “Whoever he wants to, I guess. I was just trying to figure it out since it seemed important to you that I know Steve’s about to do the deed.”

Natasha tilts her head and appraises him in that way of hers and smiles. “Where did you guys go for lunch today?” There’s the brow again. “You did go out for lunch? It is Wednesday, after all.”

Clint’s looking for land mines, but for the life of him he can’t see why there would be one just because he and Steve have a standing lunch date. Still, the change in subject is odd and Natasha is Natasha so...

His answer comes out sounding more like a question. “We went to a game? Steve likes baseball, and Tony’s got his own box.” If Clint had the money Tony has, he could find better things to spend it on than a box at Yankee Stadium. “It’s a little slow for me, but,” he shrugs. “There were hot dogs and draft beer, so it was all good.”

Natasha smiles, finishes off her turn by bowling a perfect game, and tosses the controller on the couch. She kisses Clint’s cheek, ruffles his hair affectionately. “You’re adorable.”

Clint watches her leave the study, unsure of what, exactly, has happened. Because that last? What was that about?

Clint forgets all about his random conversation with Natasha until the next time he and Steve are out. They spend hours wandering Union Square, hitting up art shops for Steve and music shops for Clint, and whatever else strikes their fancy before deciding on a burger at the Shake Shack. Somewhere between the cheese fries and Steve slurping up the last of his vanilla milkshake, it occurs to Clint to wonder if Steve’s taken care of that pesky virginity thing yet. It’s not really the kind of thing you can just ask a guy. Then it hits Clint that Natasha knew about the impending devirginialization and he didn't. He frowns into his strawberry shake and tries not to take that personally. Steve, of course, notices the frown.

“You okay?”

Clint glances up, startled. “Uhm, yeah. Fine. Just thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Steve teases.

Clint dredges up a smile and asks Steve about some of the supplies he’d picked up. Steve brightens and is off on a running commentary about the use of charcoal as opposed to pencil or watercolors and Clint lets him go, nodding occasionally but really lost in his own thoughts.

They make their way back to the Tower, Steve happy with public transportation even though Tony is always telling them it’s the root of all evil. Mostly Clint just objects to that many strange people touching him and having no viable escape route, but Steve likes being ‘normal’, so Clint lives with it.

Upstairs, they stop at Clint’s floor first and dump all the bags out onto his coffee table so they can separate them correctly. Clint’s shoving albums out of the way when Steve sighs and drops down to sit on the couch.

“Something’s wrong. You’ve been off since lunch. Have I... did I do something?”

“I don’t know, did you?” comes out before Clint can stop it and it’s way bitchier than he’d intended. “I uh, talked to Natasha.”

Oddly enough, that seems to relieve Steve. “Finally! I couldn’t just ask if you’d talked to her and you didn’t say anything.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Steve reddens. “I don’t know. I mean, what if you got freaked out? Natasha said you wouldn’t, but I’m not used to... and... I didn’t want to screw things up?”

That doesn’t make a bit of sense to Clint and he sighs. “It’s your business, okay? You’re a big boy and it’s definitely past time. Go for it or whatever.”

Steve frowns and the blush deepens. “Just like that?”

“Why not?”

Steve still doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs. "Umm, okay. If you say so.”

Clint has no idea what the hell Steve is talking about until Steve gets up and crosses the room to where Clint is standing, cups Clint’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s not a great kiss because Clint is too busy trying to figure out A) how in the hell he’d missed the signs and B) how to kill Natasha without Fury finding the body and kicking him out of S.H.I.E.L.D. Then Steve’s pulling back, a chagrined look on his face.

“You said it was okay.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it was me.”

That last word comes out a little high, but Clint doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because Steve is pulling back, literally and figuratively, and it hurts Clint to see it.

“I thought you said you talked to Natasha.”

“I did,” Clint says, running a hand through his hair. “She dropped hints, and I guessed. But no guys. I didn’t even know that was an option. For you.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts his weight nervously from foot to foot. "Well, you know now, obviously. That it’s you. Can we...”

Clint’s shaking his head, already of afraid of where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are guys not an option? For you?” Steve suddenly looks a little unsure.

Clint smiles a little. “I like guys just fine. Women too.”

“Is it just me you don’t...”

“It’s not that.”

Clint realizes too late that he should have just agreed with that and let it go because now Steve has that hopeful look back on his face and Clint hates crushing it.

“Steve, we work together.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have a non-fraternization policy.”

That throws Clint for a second. Steve had actually checked into that? He blinks and finds that Steve’s moving closer, like he’s planning on kissing Clint again, and Clint can’t help himself; he takes a step back.

“I’m too old for you.”

Steve grins and advances. “I’m actually fifty years older than you, give or take a year or two.”

“Yeah, well, you look twenty years younger,” Clint grouses, doing that hated retreating thing again.

“But I’m not,” Steve says, grinning brightly. “Not really.” Steve finally seems to notice the distance Clint is trying to keep between them and he stops moving. “I know I don’t really know what I’m doing. I don’t have much experience so I don’t know everything I might like, yet, so we could do whatever you want. Anything you want.”

Clint sighs heavily. “Yeah, sorry, man. That doesn’t work for me.”

Steve seems about to protest again when he stops, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed like that. I’ll go. I won’t... won’t try anything again.”

“Steve, wait...”

But Steve ignores him and is out the door before Clint can think of anything to say to make this better. He looks at the bags scattered around him, sinks down to the floor and puts his head in hands.

“Well, fuck.”

The next four days are hell. Steve avoids him like the plague. Bruce watches the two of them like he wants to say something but has no idea how to start the conversation. Tony avoids them both (which Clint takes to mean that Pepper has warned him to keep his nose out of things, a reprieve that will only last until she leaves for her next business trip). Clint’s just glad that Thor is currently on Asgard or he’d probably be acting like Clint kicked a puppy or something.

Which is exactly how he feels. He can’t even bitch at Natasha for putting him in this situation because she’s off on a mission for Fury.

His days just keep getting sunnier when Fury calls them all in and announces that they’re having a fundraiser and attendance is mandatory. Rebuilding New York is expensive and now that the aliens are gone, no one seems to care that the damage happened because they were saving the freaking world. Clint sighs, thrilled beyond belief that renting a tux is now at the top of his to-do list.

The fundraiser is held in a ballroom on the public level of the Tower, which is handy since Clint plans to disappear to his rooms as soon as he can get away with it. For the moment, he’s trapped with Tony and Pepper, who do the glittery public speaking thing like pros. Clint stands behind and slightly to the side, smile pasted onto his face while he carefully scans the room for possible escape routes. He’s calculating the distance to the ceiling ducts when Steve makes his entrance. He looks amazing in a traditional black tuxedo, a superhero smile on his lips, but Clint can see the tightness at the corners of his mouth, can see the dark shadows under Steve’s eyes. Clint looks away, guilt a heavy weight in his stomach. He’d handled things about as badly as they could be handled, but for the life of him he has no idea what else he could have done. He’d been caught off guard, a rare enough occurrence that he still can’t believe it actually happened. He glances back up to find Steve staring at him, a look of longing on his face. It’s gone the second he catches Clint watching him, replaced by a practiced smile and a hearty if forced, to Clint’s ears, laugh for one of the fundraiser’s big contributors.

Clint drifts off after that, careful to stay far away from Steve while still maintaining eye contact with the bar. He’s pleasantly buzzed, but that’s not really helping his mood. He’s on his fifth vodka tonic (minus the tonic) when he notices a flash of familiar red across the room. He smiles, pleased that even Natasha has had to acquiesce to Fury’s demands on attendance. The smile dims when he realizes that she’s talking to Steve. He’s leaning down to speak to her, and Natasha has a concerned expression on her face as she listens intently to whatever Steve’s telling her. She says something back and Steve goes bright red before he nods enthusiastically. She smiles and briefly puts a hand on Steve’s arm before turning and heading toward the garden exit.

“Looks like it’s you after all, Nat,” Clint mumbles, ignoring the look he gets from the little white-haired old lady standing next to him.

He stalks over to the bar and nods toward the bottles of vodka. “Gimme one of those to go.”

Half an hour later, he’s sitting on his balcony rail, staring at the night sky, half empty bottle held loosely in his hand. He hears the knock on his door, ignores it in favor of taking another sip. The knocking starts up at intervals just regular enough to be annoying. He snorts; he’s a freaking sniper, patience is his job. Eventually the noise stops and he’s back to drinking in peace. For about thirty seconds. The door opens and closes quietly and whoever it is had better be thankful that Clint hasn’t brought his bow out with him or they’d be picking arrows out of their ass.

“Go away,” he calls out, tipping the bottle again.

“I really want to talk to you, Clint.”

Huh. Clint hadn’t expected it to be Steve. He checks his watch; maybe that super serum wasn’t so super after all if the Captain’s gotten off already.

“Busy,” he says, and holds up the bottle just in case Steve missed the important thing Clint’s up to.

Steve comes closer, leans a hip against the balcony railing. "Do you think you could come inside?”

“Nope. Like it here.”

“I really wish you would. You’re drinking.”

Clint snorts. “Please. I regularly drink with a Russian. I’m not even tipsy yet.” He glances over at Steve to see the man staring worriedly at the railing. “Wait, this actually bothers you? Circus, remember? I could walk across this thing blindfolded.”

“I’d still feel better if you’d come inside.”

Steve has to add in that earnest thing he does and Clint sighs heavily. “Fine. The sooner we talk, the sooner you can leave.”

Steve doesn’t look happy about that, but he perks up a little when Clint slides off the railing and heads indoors. Stark is nice enough to employ a cleaning crew so there’s nothing for him to stumble over as he makes his way to the island that separates kitchen from living room. He sets the bottle down and turns to face Steve.

“What’s so important your ha...”

Clint’s words are cut off by Steve’s mouth covering his and really, hadn’t they already talked about this? But Clint can’t exactly protest because Steve’s nipping at his bottom lip, hands firm on Clint’s hips as they stumble backward until Clint’s back hits the island. It hurts, but the slight pain is more than offset by the fact that Steve’s taking total control. It hits more than a few buttons and freaking Natasha must have sold him out.

His thoughts break apart on a moan when Steve bites at him again, harder this time, and takes the opportunity afforded him to lick into Clint’s mouth. Clint grabs the back of Steve’s neck, fingers playing with the short hairs there as Clint teases Steve’s tongue with his own. Steve shudders against him, bends his knees slightly so he can line up their hips and holy fuck why was this a bad idea again?

Clint can’t really remember why, even when Steve breaks the kiss to look at him, a question in his eyes. Clint arches a brow, curious as to what the man will do. Steve just smiles at him and leans down to bite at Clint’s neck. Clint’s pretty sure the noise that escapes him is a really big fucking tell, but whatever. He doesn’t do subtle. Steve kisses him again, hips rolling slowly if a little tentatively against Clint’s.

“You cheated,” Clint manages when Steve finally lets him up for breath.

Steve looks up, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You went to Natasha and found out my weaknesses.”

“That’s not cheating,” Steve protests. “It’s sound battle strategy to gather intel.” He grins. “Besides, I didn’t ask her sex stuff. I just asked her why she thought you were interested when you told me you weren’t. Her answers were very... illuminating.”

“Oh really?”

Clint’s not sure he cares, not with Steve pressed tightly against him. It’s a conversation they can have after all the really good sex Steve’s hips are promising him. He tugs Steve back down because more kissing is a damn good idea. Especially when Steve’s hands slide down his back and cup his ass, pulling their hips more tightly together. He mumbles ‘bed’ against Steve’s mouth, pushing lightly against Steve to get him moving in the right direction. Instead of moving, Steve uses the hands on Clint’s ass to lift Clint up. Clint makes a surprised noise that gets lost in the heat of Steve’s mouth as he instinctively wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. Steve walks them to the bedroom and somehow manages to crawl onto the bed without killing either of them. It’s pretty impressive, but still.

“Just so you know,” Clint says against Steve’s mouth, “I’m probably gonna be pissed off later about the whole picking me up like a girl thing.”

“‘Kay,” Steve says, busy fitting that long body comfortably on Clint’s.

Clint spreads his thighs so Steve can settle between them, rolls his hips up to rub against Steve’s. Steve moans, one hand gripping Clint’s hip as he mimics the motion. Clint shudders and runs his hands down Steve’s broad back, feeling the muscles tense under his hands as they rock against each other. He wants to feel Steve, not layers of fabric, and he tugs impatiently at Steve’s jacket.

“Off. This needs to be off.”

Steve nods his agreement and sits back. Clint misses his warmth immediately and follows him, helps Steve get rid of his jacket and vest. They’re kissing again as they go to work on Steve’s buttons and Clint’s impatient, normally nimble fingers stumbling over the task. He’s pretty sure he rips a few buttons off but can’t really bring himself to care. Not when he can finally spread Steve’s shirt open, get his hands all over Steve. He runs a hand over Steve’s chest, trails his fingers down over Steve’s belly. He flicks a finger against the button on Steve’s pants.

“Do I get to take these off?”

Steve swallows hard, breathing heavy. “Only if yours are coming off too.”

Clint laughs and pops the button on Steve’s trousers. “Wouldn’t be any fun if only one of us was part of the naked party.”

Steve laughs and takes that as the permission Clint intended it to be. It degenerates a bit, both of them pulling at clothes while still trying to stay attached at the mouth, and at one point Clint hears a rip that means Tony is so not getting his deposit back on Clint’s tux. Then Steve’s big hands slide around to cup his naked ass, and Clint focuses on what’s important. He shifts forward, bare cock brushing against Steve’s. Steve shudders, buries his face in Clint’s shoulder as his breathing hitches.

“We good?" Clint asks, fingers running through Steve's hair in a gesture that holds more affection than sex. Clint frowns at his hand like it has mind of its own, but Steve is answering him, and Clint decides to pay attention to that instead.

"Yeah, just a little... more than I expected."

"What, you thought I'd be easy?" Clint teases.

Steve rolls his eyes and practically tackles Clint onto the mattress. Those hips are moving again, thick cock sliding against Clint's, and he can't help but let out a broken moan. Steve's grin is entirely too cocky.

"Whatever, man." Clint gets his hands on Steve's spectacular ass and rolls his own hips up. "I'm only easy sometimes."

Steve's smile softens as he leans down to kiss Clint, and there's another weird flutter in Clint's belly that tells him that he was right to be wary of this. Cautious isn't really in Clint's repertoire, though, so he ignores the feeling and brings his legs up to wrap around Steve's waist. Clint might be smaller, but he's got moves, damn it, and he surges up to put Steve on his back. It shocks a laugh out of Steve, and Clint grins down at him.

"Didn't get a chance to look before." Clint slides off Steve's hips and moves back, enjoying the feeling of strong thighs under his when he settles again. His gaze roams Steve's body, fingertips trailing the same path. Steve's all warm, pale skin and tight muscle and it's fucking ridiculous. He traces the ridges of Steve's abdomen, smiling as the muscles jump under his touch.

"Your abs have abs. It's fucking ridiculous." It has to be said out loud, appreciated.

Steve doesn't seem to think so if his snort is anything to by. "You're ridiculous. That didn't even make sense."

"Makes perfect sense," Clint argues absentmindedly.

Absentmindedly because he’s reaching down so that he can wrap callused fingers around Steve's cock. Steve shudders and bucks into the touch, and Clint obliges by stroking him from base to tip.

"Jesus Christ." Clint licks his lips, fingers tracing Steve's cock, and fuck. He's never been a size queen, appreciates dick in all its variations, but... "Jesus Christ."

"You said that already." Steve's voice is a little breathless, and he won't quite meet Clint's eyes when Clint looks up from his task. "Is that good or bad?"

"Really fucking good." Clint isn't sure at first why that had to be said, but then remembers that the whole virginity thing probably means that Steve doesn’t have much, if any, experience with the naked with another person thing. Plus, there’s the whole pre- and post-serum Steve thing. He stretches up to kiss Steve. "It's you, idiot. I liked you before you took your pants off.”

There's something a lot like relief in Steve's eyes, and Clint shakes his head, smiling. He supposes they should do more talking about this stuff, but he's got a mission, and he's always super focused when that happens.

"Did you come in here with plans?"

Steve's biting his lip, hips moving into Clint's hands as his own come up to rest on Clint's thighs. "Plans? No. I wasn't even sure you'd let me stay."

"Wanted you to stay the first time,” Clint confesses.

The last of the shadows disappear from Steve’s eyes, and it hits Clint again how much he’d hurt Steve with the way he’d reacted. That’s not going to happen again, Clint promises himself. He settles fully on Steve's thighs and looks down at the fingers still wrapped around Steve's dick. "Yeah, we definitely need to talk, but not now." Steve, because he's Steve, looks like he's going to protest, and Clint shakes his head. "Not now. After, okay?"

The look he gets tells Clint that Steve is going to hold him to that, and Clint resigns himself for an uncomfortable talk. Right now, he has more important things to do. Like stroke Steve again just to get him to make that breathy moan that Clint already likes a hell of a lot. "God that's hot."

Steve's blushing a little, and that's freaking hot too. Clint is hard pressed to find anything about this whole situation that isn't incendiary. But as much as he's enjoying this, he wants more. "So, plans?"

Steve shakes his head, hips moving with the rhythm that Clint has set. "I just want you."

That sends a shudder down Clint's spine, and he groans. "Yeah, okay. Good. Because I want you to fuck me."

Steve makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine, and he wraps strong fingers around Clint’s wrist. "Stop. Just... you got to stop."

Clint freezes, worried that he's said the wrong thing. Before he can ask, Steve takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Sorry. Needed a second. Almost made me come."

A slow smile curves Clint's lips. "Yeah? You want it that much? Want to fuck me, Steve?"

Steve shudders again, blue eyes locked on Clint's. "Yes. God. Clint..."

Clint grins as he jacks Steve’s cock, gaze intent as he takes Steve’s measure. “Going to take some work to get you in me.” Steve moans, and Clint’s grin turns wicked. “Yeah, you’re a big guy and it’s been a while for me. Don't get to bottom often.” He swipes his thumb over the wet head of Steve’s dick. “Don’t trust just anyone to...”

His words get drowned out by an honest to god growl just before Steve lunges up and grabs Clint, twists to put him on his back. Clint spreads his legs and Steve stretches out over him, hips moving messy and desperate. Triumph glitters in Clint’s eyes as he lifts his head to kiss Steve. “Going to come all over me?”

Steve groans and closes his eyes, jaw clenched tightly, and Clint can see the effort he’s putting into calming down. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“I do.” Clint arches up so his cock rubs against Steve’s. “You really trying to tell me that you’ve only got one round in you?”

Steve is trembling, and Clint cups Steve’s face in his hands, waits to speak until dazed blue eyes focus on him. “Whatever you want, Steve. You can have as much of me as you want.”

The noise that gets pushed out of Steve goes straight to Clint’s cock, and the look in his eyes? Yeah, Clint’s officially worried. Or, he will be, later. Much, much later.

He gets a hand between them and wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock, lets Steve fuck his fist in an increasingly desperate rhythm. Steve’s breath is coming in harsh pants, and he’s making these soft sounds of pleasure that are making it hard for Clint to keep his own hips still. He does by sheer force of will alone. If he comes with Steve, it’s all over for a bit. Only of them is a super solider, after all.

“Come on, Steve, do it. Come all over me.”

Steve groans, drops his forehead to rest against Clint’s collarbone. His fingers are tight on Clint’s hips and Clint knows there will be bruises there later. He can’t wait, hopes to add some more when he finally gets Steve inside of him. He tightens his grip on Steve’s cock, thumb rubbing over the head, and Steve shudders, bucks into Clint’s hand as he comes. Clint works him through it, free hand resting on the nape of Steve’s neck, mumbling nonsense as Steve’s trembling slows and finally stops altogether. He collapses against Clint, making Clint tense. He’s not a fan, doesn’t care to be trapped under someone’s weight, and Steve is a lot bigger than he is. Being under Steve doesn’t hit buttons that this normally would, and Clint finds himself relaxing. He turns his head to kiss Steve’s temple.

“You still with me?”

Steve mumbles something, lifts his head and gives Clint a sheepish grin as he shifts his weight slightly to lie next to Clint. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I liked it.”

Steve doesn’t have to know that he’s the exception to Clint’s rule. He’s kinda the exception to a lot of Clint’s rules so it’s fine. Everything is fine here. He reaches out to rest a hand on Steve’s hip before remembering the mess. Grumbling a little, he rolls toward the edge of the bed and finds a discarded T-shirt from the night before. He wipes at his hand, rolls back to lie on his side facing Steve, rests his now clean hand on Steve’s hip.

“So. You got commentary? Complaints? Suggestions for future visits?”

Clint’s tone is light, but he’s not completely teasing. He’s never, that he’s aware of, been responsible for someone’s first time. And this isn’t just someone, it’s Steve. He wants to make this as good as he can.

“To have commentary, I’d have to be able to think,” Steve says. “Going to have to let me get back to you on that.”

Clint grins, sliding his hand down from Steve’s hip to run careful fingers over Steve’s cock. He’s still mostly hard, and probably sensitive, but Clint can’t help touching him. “Do you actually have a refractory period at all? Jesus.”

Steve shrugs, shifting on the bed like he wants to slide a knee up and hide himself from Clint. “Eventually? It just depends, I guess.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask because it’s a bad thing. It’s really fucking hot.” Clint leans in for a kiss. “You can just take it as a given that I find everything about you, and this, incredibly fucking hot. Trust me.”

“I do.”

It’s a simple statement, but the fact that Steve doesn’t even hesitate to say it hits Clint right in the chest. Christ he’s turning into a ridiculous sap. Best to move things along, back to where Clint is comfortable. He moves to crouch over Steve, straddling those thick thighs. Bending his head, he gently licks over the head of Steve’s cock.

“Oh fuck.”

“Got a mouth on you, Cap.”

Whatever Steve might have said to that is lost to a low moan when Clint licks along the length of his cock. Steve tastes so damn good that it’s takes all of Clint’s self-control (which, honestly, isn’t much on a good day) not to blow him right then and there. But lack of refractory period or not, Steve has to be sensitive and Clint wouldn’t hurt him for the world. He keeps his touch light, teasing licks over the head of Steve’s cock and along the length, never once taking him into his mouth, though he’s kind of dying to. Besides, Clint himself is hard enough to cut diamonds and if he’s not careful, he’s going to come before he ever gets a chance to get Steve inside of him. Regretfully, he gives a last lick to Steve’s cock and comes up on his knees, straddling Steve’s thighs.

“I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I’d love to get fucked, if you’re ready.”

Blue eyes lock with his as Clint licks his lips, groans at the hint of Steve he can taste there. Those eyes flash fire and before Clint knows it, he’s on his back again, thighs spread wide by Steve’s hips. Then Steve is sliding down his body and taking Clint’s cock into his mouth, and Clint shouts so loudly he’s pretty sure the whole damn tower hears it. But fuck. Fucking fuck, he did not expect that. He tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, blinks at the ceiling because if he looks at Steve it’s all over.

“Christ, Steve, warn a guy, would you?”

Steve gives a last suck to Clint’s cock that has Clint whimpering, and then he’s pulling off, hands running soothingly along Clint’s trembling thighs. “Sorry.”

He sounds adorably sheepish and Clint pulls his gaze from the ceiling to look at Steve. Steve grins down at him, fingers sliding carefully over Clint’s balls in a way that damn near make Clint’s eyes cross. “Nothing to be sorry for. Told you, you can have whatever you want. But if you make me come, then we’re going to have to take a break and I kinda want to get fucked before that happens.”

“I just wanted to see what it was like. I went down on plenty of the USO girls back in the day who didn’t count oral as sex, but I never, with a guy. I wanted to see.” Steve’s eyes are dark as they peruse Clint’s body. “It felt good, having your tongue on my dick, and I wanted...” Steve smiles in a way Clint’s never seen before. “I wanted to see what you tasted like.”

Clint reaches down to grab the base of his cock, swearing in every language he knows. When he feels like he can breathe without coming, he lets go of his cock. “Have at me then. We can fuck some other time.”

Steve frowns, fingertips drifting from Clint’s balls to tease over the thin skin behind them. “You don’t like to get fucked after you come?”

Clint’s eyebrows shoot up, and he kicks lightly at Steve’s thigh. “There’s that mouth again.”

Steve glares, but there’s no actual heat in it. “You weren’t complaining about my mouth when it was on your dick.”

Clint snorts a laugh. “No, no I was not.”

Steve huffs, but it’s clear he’s not angry. “You know I’m not some kind of innocent, right? I have the internet and Natasha. Just because I haven’t actually done much of anything...”

Clint smiles softly and kicks at Steve again. “I know that. I swear I’m only teasing you. I know who you are, Steve.” He gets a grin for that and relaxes back into the mattress. “But to answer your question, I don’t really know. I tend to go for quick encounters so it’s not like I do the whole making out thing.”

Steve gets that heated look again, and Clint feels fingertips brush at his hole. He arches a brow, and Steve arches one right back. “Either way, we’re going to need lube.”

Clint laughs and twists to the side, reaching toward the bedside table. A big hand lands on his chest and pins him back to the mattress as Steve comes up on his knees, leaning over Clint to rummage around for the lube. Clint’s cock jerks, hard, at being held down like that, and Steve throws him a dirty grin.

“Yeah, yeah, you know my kinks. Cheater.”

“Not all of them.” Steve settles back into position, flicks open the cap on the lube. “But I’m learning.”

He certainly must be because there’s no hesitation when he coats his fingers with lube and tosses the bottle aside, reaches down between Clint’s legs to rub over his hole. Clint moans and spreads his thighs wide, gives Steve plenty of room. Steve presses lightly, not pushing in yet, a slight furrow of concentration on his brow. Clint knows he can’t be seeing much, just feeling, and he wants Steve to know what he’s doing to Clint. He pulls his knees to his chest, hooks his hands behind them to hold himself open for Steve’s touch. Steve groans, gaze flicking to Clint’s face and then down to where he’s finally working a finger into Clint’s ass.

When Steve looks up again, there’s so much heat in his gaze that Clint feels himself flushing. He never gets embarrassed during sex but being the focus of that much intensity is a heady thing. His cock is jerking against his belly with every deep thrust of Steve’s finger, smearing pre-come over his skin.

“More, Steve, please.”

Steve swallows hard and pulls his finger free, pushes back in with two. He works Clint open carefully, and it’s so fucking good but not enough. Clint reaches down to grasp Steve’s wrist, pulls and tugs until he gets Steve’s fingers hitting right where he wants them. He cries out, body tightening around Steve’s fingers, and Steve gives him that slow, dirty smile again.

“Right there, huh?”

Clint doesn’t have time to speak because Steve’s rubbing fingertips over that spot every time he pushes into Clint. Clint’s head drops back, hips rolling to match Steve’s rhythm and he loves this so fucking much. It’s always irritated him that he can’t just get this from anyone he sleeps with, but Steve is making it worth the wait. His fingers are thick and strong, and there’s no hesitation in how he’s touching Clint. It’s clear that he’s enjoying this as much as Clint is, and that just makes everything hotter.

“You feel so damn good, Clint.”

Clint hums, eyes fluttering closed as he rocks down on Steve’s fingers. “’s fucking perfect. Going to make me come.”

Which is apparently fine with Steve because the next thing he knows, Steve’s hot mouth is surrounding his cock as his fingers rub over Clint’s prostate. Clint’s moaning low in his throat, thighs trembling and fingers tight, so they don’t slip off sweaty skin. Steve’s clearly inexperienced, but just as clearly enthusiastic and Clint opens his eyes, has to watch. Watch as Steve sucks him in deep, swallowing hard, pleasure written all over his face. Clint arches and cries out again, those relentless fingers driving him crazy.

“Steve, you got to... I’m going to...”

Steve must get the gist because he pulls off, reluctantly, and wraps fingers around Clint’s cock, thumb finding the sensitive spot just under the head. The fingers he still has buried in Clint’s ass press relentlessly over his prostate and Clint is gone, coming so hard he feels it in his freaking toes. When he can think again, the fingers in his ass have stilled and Steve is very determinedly licking every drop of come from Clint’s stomach.

“Holy hell, Steve.”

Steve flicks a glance up at him, expression smug, and goes back to cleaning up Clint’s mess. “I wanted you to come in my mouth but swallowing probably requires some practice.”

“Little bit, yeah,” Clint agrees, dazed.

Steve’s expression becomes even more satisfied, and he goes back to his self-appointed task. When he’s finished, he eases his fingers free of Clint’s ass, and surges up to cover Clint, taking Clint’s mouth in a deep kiss. Clint drops his legs with a little groan of relief, wraps them around Steve’s trim waist as Steve licks into his mouth. He can taste himself on Steve’s tongue, and he groans softly. Steve makes an answering noise, hips jerking and making his cock rub against Clint’s. Clint winces and Steve breaks the kiss, pulls his hips back.

“Sorry, I didn’t...”

Clint won’t let him move far, and Steve’s cock presses against Clint’s balls. Clint gets his knees up around Steve’s ribs and Steve’s cock slips further back, broad head nudging at Clint’s hole. He shudders, head dropping as he clearly tries to catch his breath. Clint reaches up to run his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“We can try.”

Steve’s head comes back up, blue eyes intent on Clint’s as he pushes his hips forward, dragging the head of his cock against Clint’s hole. “You sure, Clint? We don’t have to.”

“Never done it right after coming, but I’m game if you are.”

Steve draws in a ragged breath, nods enthusiastically. “Okay, yeah. What do you need?” Clint frowns, not following the question. Steve smiles and steals a kiss. “More fingers, more lube? I...” Steve breaks off, hips moving almost helplessly against Clint. “Condoms. We need... safe. We’re supposed to...”

Clint reaches up and cups Steve’s face, tugs him down for a kiss. When it breaks, Steve looks a little more settled, and Clint smiles. “I’m good. I like being opened up by cock, and you won’t hurt me.” Steve whimpers and Clint nips at his bottom lip. “As far as safe sex goes, again, I trust you. I know enough about the serum by now to know you can’t carry anything, can’t give me anything. We can use them if want to, but I...” Clint takes a breath, lets it out slowly. “I’ve never let anyone come inside me. I’d really like that with you.”

Steve shudders, and Clint can feel his cock jerking against Clint’s hole. “You’re the absolute worst, Clint. Even I know we’re not supposed to talk about this now.”

Clint shrugs, unrepentant. “We both know you’d tell me no in a heartbeat if you thought you’d hurt me.”

“Jesus.” Steve closes his eyes like he’s pain, but when they open again, there’s determination there. “I’m going to give you what you want, Clint.”

He fumbles around for the lube he tossed aside earlier, and Clint leans back to watch as Steve slicks his cock. He licks his lips, so fucking ready for this even if he isn’t hard. Steve tosses the lube aside and Clint starts to turn onto his stomach. Steve covers him before he can, kisses him deeply as he reaches between them. He strokes wet fingers over Clint’s hole, eases one inside.

“I want... like this, okay? I want to be able to see your face when I’m inside of you.”

Clint’s body jerks as Steve teases over that spot inside. He’s definitely more sensitive than normal, but it’s not painful so he nods. “However you want me, remember?”

Steve pulls his finger free, and takes himself in hand, rubs the head of his cock against Clint’s hole. Then it’s heat and pressure as he starts to ease inside, and Clint doesn’t know who moans louder. Steve feels fucking incredible, and since he’s not hard, Clint doesn’t have that to focus on. He’s free to pay complete attention to Steve, to the thickness of Steve’s cock as he carefully fills Clint. He’s panting hard and Clint rubs a soothing hand along his side.

“You feel fucking amazing, Steve.”

Steve drops his forehead to rest on Clint’s, never stopping the slow rocking motion of his hips as he works deeper into Clint’s body. They both moan when Steve is in as far as he can possibly go, the cradle of his hips pressed tightly to Clint’s ass. Clint can’t stop touching Steve everywhere, waiting for Steve to catch his breath enough to continue. Finally, Steve moves enough to catch Clint’s mouth, kissing him almost desperately.

“Thought... thought you said... this would take work.”

Steve finally manages words, and they make Clint snort a laugh that pulls a groan from deep in Steve’s chest. Clint very deliberately wiggles under him and Steve curses, a hand shooting down to pin Clint’s hip to the mattress.

“Guess I just wanted you that damn bad.”

Steve hums, shifts his hips, and it’s Clint’s turn to groan. Steve rocks against him, not pulling out, but very definitely moving inside Clint.

“You’re really fucking tight. Am I hurting you?”

Clint smoothes a hand down Steve’s back. “Thanks for the compliment.” He grins cheekily when Steve rolls his eyes. “And no, of course not. I promise.”

Steve takes him at his word and pulls back, almost all the way out of Clint’s body before surging forward again. Clint moans and lifts his hips, surprised at just how intense this is. He’s more sensitive than he can ever remember being while getting fucked, but it doesn’t hurt. Far from it.

Together they find a rhythm, Steve stroking deep inside Clint’s body, but nowhere near as hard as Clint could take it. He’s grateful for that, this time, if he’s honest. He’s so sensitive that every rub of Steve’s cock over his prostate sends fire up his spine. His chest his tight, and he feels like he can’t breathe, and he’s already getting hard between them.

“Fuck, don’t stop.”

Steve’s answer to that is to get a hand on Clint’s thigh and push it towards his chest, opening Clint up so he can fuck in deeper. Clint curses, hands sliding down Steve’s back to cup his ass. Their movements are more frantic now, and it doesn’t matter that Clint essentially just came. He’s going to again, and it’s going to hurt in the best fucking way.

“Harder, please Steve. I want...” He moans and pulls his other leg up to his chest as well, crying out when Steve thrusts in deep and perfect. “Want to come on your cock.”

It’s Steve’s turn to curse before he kisses Clint, angling his hips so that every thrust hits just right. Clint’s moans are lost to the heat of Steve’s mouth, his cock trapped between their bodies in a delicious wave of friction as Steve fucks him. He’s hanging right on the edge of orgasm but can’t quite get there. He’s about to get a hand between them to help out when Steve tears his mouth away with a desperate cry, shoving into Clint hard enough to move them up the bed. His body is rigid, and Clint can feel the jerk of his cock as he comes, and it’s enough to push Clint off the edge he’s been riding. His fingers dig into Steve’s ass, head thrown back as he chants Steve’s name over and over as he spills between them.

Hours or days later, Clint isn’t sure, Steve practically melts against him. Clint shifts his hold before Steve can move, keeping the other man firmly on top of him. Steve mumbles something Clint can’t hear, shifts just enough that Clint can breathe, but makes no move to pull out. Clint relaxes, lets one hand wander up and down Steve’s broad back as they re-learn how to breathe. Eventually, Steve stirs enough to press a kiss to the corner of Clint’s mouth.

“I’ve got to be squashing you.”

“Hmm mmm. I like it.” Steve chuckles, making his cock shift inside Clint and they both hiss in a breath. “Maybe don’t do that for a minute, okay?”

Steve hums his agreement, noses at Clint’s temple as he finds a way to get comfortable. It’s nice, coming down like this, while they’re still connected. Clint thinks that maybe something can be said for actually sharing a bed with a partner and not just quick fucking against any available surface. He likes it. Well, he likes it with Steve, anyway, and that’s a problem he can deal with later.

As if reading his mind, Steve stirs against him, and Clint can feel his chest expand as he starts to speak. Clint turns his head and steals the words in a kiss. Steve grunts against his mouth, but kisses back, one hand resting warm on Clint’s ribs.

“You feel so good like this, Clint.”

Clint smiles against Steve’s mouth, kisses him again. “I like this. I never get this part.”

He knows they’re supposed to talk, but he’s in no hurry, and he’s not as worried that the talking is going to derail anything. He thinks that maybe he’s going to get lucky, and they’re on the same page here. If not? Well then talking is going to fuck everything up, and it’s a shit marksman who shoots himself in the dick. Clint’s going to take all of this that he can get.

“I want to stay here with you, like this, just a little longer. Then maybe a shower and food, and we can do it all again? You can’t tell me we ticked everything off your list.”

Steve’s expression is soft, as is the fingertip he uses to trace Clint’s cheekbone. “It’s a long list, Clint. Going to take some time.”

The pressure in Clint’s chest eases, and the smile that curves his mouth actually hurts. “I’m good with that.”