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Self-Gratification

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Having grown up in the circus, fun-house mirrors weren't exactly new to Clint. And so, for a few quiet, awkward moments, he felt as though he were looking into one, because the figure across from him was certainly himself, only not, somehow.

The man looked like he could've been Clint's twin brother, at the very least. The differences were there, but very minimal. Less muscle, a bit taller, lighter hair, maybe a bit younger. His eyes were a pale blue, and he seemed to be covered in minor injuries. Overall, he seemed like a softer, younger version of himself.

Clint was certainly not prepared for this; he was just getting ready for bed and was standing in his boxers and a shirt. The other, softer Clint looked to be in a similar predicament, wearing only pajama bottoms. He seemed confused and lost, but not exactly afraid.

"Um." He said, looking around confused. Clint noticed that the other version of him had something in his ears-- Hearing aids?

"'Um' exactly. What are you doing here?" Clint asked the impostor(?) standing up straighter and giving him his best intimidating glare. The man gulped and raised his hands to his chest defensively; the universal sign of 'I will not attack you, please don't kick my ass.'

"Listen man, I don't want no trouble." His speech was a little slurred, as though he'd fallen out of practice of speaking out loud, perhaps. His New York accent was thick as well. He sounded genuine, albeit a little confused, so Clint dropped the angry look and the other man dropped his hands.

"What are you doing here?" Clint asked, not letting his guard down completely but no longer on-edge enough that he was ready to snap at a moment's notice.

"I don't know, man. I was just watching Paw Patrol with Kate and Lucky, and all of a sudden I was falling through some portal and I ended up in your bathroom." Again, he sounded entirely sincere, and it was a dumb story to make up, so Clint was ready to believe him.

"I'm guessing you're Clint Barton, then?" The younger version of him nodded, still looking confused but now intrigued.

"Yeah. You too, I'm guessing?" Other Clint asked, a grin forming on his face. Clint nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips as well as he relaxed completely.

"Well. Normally I'd just sit out all of this alternate dimension shit, but this is really a once in a lifetime opportunity, and if you're anything like me-- which you should be, since we're the same person-- then the first thing you'd want to do with an alternate version of yourself is-" The other Clint started, but he was interrupted.

"Fuck." Clint cut him off, taking a step closer, his grin wider now. The change in the other Clint's stance was subtle but instant. His head lowered, his eyes widened, and he seemed to slump inward to appear smaller; all subtle signs of willful submission, alongside a coy little smirk. Perfect.

Clint wasted no time in shoving him up against the wall and grinding against him, his hand instantly going to his throat to hold him in place. The other Clint squirmed, but not in a way that said 'stop,' so he pressed harder, restricting his breathing enough to make things interesting but not enough to cut off oxygen completely. Clint knew what Clint liked, clearly, because the other man grinned wider and shifted his stance so that his legs were opened wider. Clint rutted against him for a few moments, drawing little struggling gasps out of him, before he took a step back and released him.

He sagged against the wall, the marks on his neck red and the front of his pants obviously tented.

"Why'd you stop?" He complained, looking at him with a pout. Rather than answer with words, Clint dropped to his knees and began to pull his pants down. He was wearing Hawkeye underwear, which Clint found oddly endearing.

"Oh, you're gonna-- Okay." He seemed oddly flustered, and Clint faintly wondered if this version of him had ever hooked up with a guy before. As if reading his mind, the other Clint sputtered out, "I haven't been with another dude in like, a while, and I never bottomed to one or anything, so this is kind've a new thing for me."

Keeping that in mind, Clint pulled off his boxers and left him fully exposed and trembling. The other Clint braced his hands against the wall, panting slightly as he looked down at him with hooded eyes.

Clint didn't give him what he wanted immediately, though. Instead, he started just above the knee, sucking and nipping at the skin as he slowly worked his way up, being sure to mark up both legs thoroughly so that he didn't forget this experience. After leaving a particularly deep bite mark so close to his cock that it was pressed against Clint's cheeks as he bit into his skin, the other Clint finally broke and let out a stream of pleas.

Satisfied, Clint pulled away and watched a single drop of blood ooze out of the wound before finally turning his attention to his neglected cock. He pressed a gently kiss to the head, which already had his knees buckling slightly. His hands reached down and tangled themselves in Clint's hair, tugging him closer slightly. Clint shuddered, only then realizing how hard he was himself.

He slowly began to take the other Clint's dick in his mouth, swallowing around a half-inch at a time and enjoying the gasps and occasional swears that exited the other man's mouth. Finally, as Clint managed to swallow the entirety of his considerable length down, he rested there and struggled to breathe through his nose, enjoying how hard it was to breath with something so long down his throat.

Clint swallowed a few times before pulling back so that his lips were only wrapped around the tip, and he looked up to see the other man's eyes screwed shut tightly, his face red and his chest rising and falling heavily and erratically. As if feeling his eyes on him, the other Clint opened his eyes and tightened his grip on Clint's hair, bucking his hips slightly with wide eyes as if asking if it was alright. Clint nodded his approval.

Almost immediately, Clint felt the press of the other man's cock in his throat as he was forced forward by his hair. He gagged slightly, but when he felt the other man letting go he shook his head and pressed on.

Slowly, the two built up a rhythm, with Clint slowly taking back control at the end when he reached up and forced the other Clint's hips back against the wall with a punishingly tight grip; one strong enough to bruise. However, just as the other Clint started to open his mouth to indicate he was close, Clint pulled away and left him on the edge, much to his visible dismay.

He let go of his hair and went to reach to finish the job, but Clint caught his hands and stood up, gripping his wrists tight enough to leave bruises to match his hips.

"Not until I've finished with you, you don't." Clint growled at him, his voice raspy but still threatening. He shuddered in his grip and nodded, and Clint began to drag him over to his bed. He pushed him down onto his back and forcefully spread his legs, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. He licked his lips and took a step back, admiring him. Was it vain? Maybe a little. But Clint would be lying if he said he didn't look absolutely delectable all eager and trembling like that.

"Don't move," Clint ordered firmly, turning around so that he could search for his lube. Locating it quickly, he returned to find that he hadn't exactly listened, and he had his legs pressed firmly together once more.

Clint roughly separated his legs again, causing him to yelp. He growled about how much of a bad boy he was as he coated his fingers in lube. Once he was sure he wouldn't cause any damage, he slipped one of his thick fingers inside of him, causing him to writhe around and gasp. Seemingly at a loss for words, he began to frantically move his hands in what Clint could only assume was ASL. He wasn't sure what exactly he was saying, but the desperation was clear, and it only turned Clint on more.

If he were thinking with his other head, Clint would probably wonder what had happened in this other universe to make him go deaf. Unfortunately, Clint was far more concerned with getting his dick wet than anything else at the moment.

He added another finger, beginning to slowly work him open, adding a third once he felt the man accommodating him. After he was sure that he was fully ready, and the other Clint had finally found use of his tongue (not that what he was saying was making much sense outside of an occasional semi-coherent plea), Clint pulled his fingers out and quickly dropped his boxers.

Before the other Clint could do much more than whine at the loss, Clint had lubed himself up and was pushing inside the other Clint's tight hole, causing him to cry out and attempt to buck his hips. Clint caught him and held him down roughly, right on the bruises he'd inflicted previously.

He took his own time, going at his own pace with no real regard as to what the other Clint wanted. He enjoyed the slow drag and gentle give, while the man below him was literally sobbing as he begged for him to go faster. After a while of this, Clint decided to give him what he needed, leaning over him and instead grabbing his neck again so that he could better see his puffy, tear-streaked face as he sobbed and pleaded.

Selfish or no, it was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen.

He watched his pretty, tear covered face as he pounded into him so hard that the entire bed shook, and the other Clint desperately clung to the blanket to try and steady himself as his entire body rocked with the punishing pace. His moans and gasps occasionally cut off as Clint pressed down on his windpipe too hard and cut off his breathing entirely, which happened every other thrust or so.

After only an eternity (or that's how long it seemed, at least) of the rough treatment, Clint felt what felt like a wave roll over him as he came, burying himself deep as he filled him. He released his neck but stayed there, now still, as the man pleaded and cried for him to continue, more desperate than ever. Clint only smirked at his helpless face and took a step back, leaving his legs to fall open.

He liked his lips at the sight of his abused, stretched hole leaking his cum, surrounded beautifully by the hickies and bite marks on his thighs. He began to reach down once more, but Clint batted his hands away and, finally deciding to have mercy, he leaned down and once again wrapped his lips around his neglected cock. Clint didn't even make it halfway before the other Clint sobbed pitifully and came, and Clint only managed to swallow some of it. He pulled back to let the rest of it spurt on his face, closing his eyes and smiling in satisfaction.

He pulled away, wiped some of it away halfheartedly, before turning and flopping onto the bed beside him, breathing heavily. He was suddenly incredibly tired, but he felt satisfied as he listened to the other version of himself, finish sobbing and finally manage to catch his breath.

"So, about how to get you home..." Clint said after he'd regained control of his breathing entirely. His voice was still raspy, and he knew it would probably stay that way for a while.

"Mmhgh." The other Clint said eloquently, still in the same position Clint had left him in. He sighed and stood up, deciding that it was probably only proper etiquette to clean up the mess he'd made of him(self?), and that the discussion could come later when they were both coherent. He ventured into the bathroom and wet a rag with warm water, coming back to unsurprisingly find him in the same vulnerable position, legs trembling and now-dried cum around his still visibly sore hole.

He tutted softly and began to gently clean the sensitive area. The other Clint squirmed slightly, but Clint held him still as he wiped away any leakage. He then moved on to pressing gentle kisses to all of the wounds he'd inflicted, which the other Clint seemed to enjoy immensely, if his red face and poorly-hidden smiles and giggles were anything to go by. He still seemed mostly out of it, which definitely wasn't a surprise. That made it easy for Clint to wipe away the small amounts of blood and saliva on his thighs, as well as inspect the bruises to make sure that it wasn't too serious.

After deeming him clean and relatively uninjured, Clint freshened himself up and wiped off his face. He then decided that since the other Clint was a bit too out of it to control himself, it would be nice of him to maneuver him into a more comfortable position. After doing so, he settled down on his side facing the way he'd moved the other Clint previously. After a few moments, Clint noticed that the man seemed a bit displeased by something, judging by how he kept shifting his head slightly. That's when Clint remembered the hearing aids.

"Those things can't be comfortable to lay on, can they?" He asked, his voice much softer and sweeter than it'd been before. He nodded gently, his cheeks seemingly permanently flushed. Clint reached out and lifted his head for him gently.

"I'm not sure how to take them out, so you need to do it." He encouraged. It was slow, but the other Clint finally managed to pluck the thing out of his ear and put it in Clint's free hand. Clint gently lowered his head back down for him and paused to gently brush his fingers over the man's lips. The other Clint kissed them, but Clint pressed a bit further and he obediently opened his mouth.

There wasn't a real reason for Clint to do this other than to see just how soft and submissive the man had gotten. It was frankly adorable. He pulled his hand away and sat up, setting the hearing aid on the dresser before relaxing again, once again looking into the other Clint's now blissfully glassy eyes.

"Maybe we should sleep. We'll figure this all out in the morning, okay?" Clint asked him softly. The other Clint blinked slightly, his eyes finally focusing as some sense came back to him. He nodded in agreement, his eyes already beginning to slip shut. Clint pulled the blanket from underneath him and covered his naked body before slipping under it with him and snuggling close. By that time, the man was already snoring.

Getting him home seemed like a problem for Future Clints.