The thing is, Clint never expected to even meet Tony Stark, let alone join him on a team of superheroes.
So to be standing here now, trying to explain his “freebie” list? Not exactly something he’d planned out how to do.
“You’re telling me you have a list of people Laura’s allowed you to sleep with - that you could’ve picked anyone in the world - and you chose me ?”
Clint’s afraid that if Tony’s smirk gets any more smug it might just fall off. “Alright, Iron Ass. I see I shouldn’t have brought it up - your head’s gonna explode if your ego gets any bigger. That was my mistake.”
But Tony reaches out to grab Clint by the arm before he can walk away. “No, no, wait, I’m sorry, I’m just...surprised. I wouldn’t think you’d be able to stand being around me long enough to have sex, to be honest.”
“I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot,” Clint says. “‘We’ being the team. But I’ve always admired you, Stark. Not many people could do what you did, to become Iron Man. I myself probably would’ve cracked under the pressure.”
Clint sees the barely noticeable flinch Tony makes at the mention of him becoming Iron Man, and notes not to bring up anything involving that time in Tony’s life again. No need to dredge up old trauma when all he’s trying to do is get laid.
“What else do you admire about me?” Tony lowers his voice and steps closer.
Clint smirks, knowing he’s got Tony on the hook now (and maybe he’s a little bit on Tony’s hook himself, truth be told). “There’s lots of things,” he says. “I’d deny it if anybody asked, but...Iron Man’s my favorite superhero.”
“You’re dead if Natasha ever hears you say that.” Tony’s lips are inches away, and Clint can feel his warm breath.
“So, so, dead,” Clint whispers, and his lips brush Tony’s.
Tony Stark is a phenomenal kisser, Clint just wants that on the record. He expected no less from America’s favorite playboy, but it’s still nice to experience it for himself. When he opens his mouth, Tony’s tongue finds its way inside like it belongs there, and Clint sighs and leans into the kiss. Tony’s arms go around him, pressing their bodies close together.
Clint suddenly finds himself pressed up against the refrigerator, the door handle digging into his back painfully. “What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable?” he mumbles into Tony’s lips. “Like, let’s say, a bed?” Tony kisses him one more time before pulling him toward the elevator.
“I see you came prepared,” Tony remarks when they’re in the penthouse, on the edge of Tony’s bed. Clint had climbed onto Tony’s lap and pulled lube and a condom out of his jacket pocket.
“I’m nothing if not efficient.” He kisses Tony.
Tony returns the kiss, sucking on Clint’s tongue before pulling back. “If you were really efficient, you’d have taken your clothes off already,” he smirks, and Clint groans before hopping off Tony’s lap and starting to strip.
When they’re both sufficiently naked, Clint returns to Tony’s lap and they resume making out. Clint fumbles with the lube, slicking up two fingers and bringing them to his hole. He moans as they sink in, and Tony’s hands squeeze his ass cheeks. “Impatient much, Legolas?”
Clint growls. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting this? I need you in me, like, yesterday.”
Tony laughs. The sound is nice. “Just don’t want you to hurt yourself, is all.”
Clint bites at Tony’s lips. “Hey, I like a little pain.”
He shouldn’t be surprised when Tony slaps his ass, but the squeak he lets out is less manly sounding than he’d like it to be. “Should’ve seen that coming,” he grunts.
Tony’s hands roam, stroking his sides and back and everywhere Tony can reach. “You’re an archer, not a psychic,” he murmurs.
Clint pulls his fingers out and pushes Tony backward so he’s lying on the bed. Rolling the condom onto Tony, he says, “I’m also very impatient,” then lowers himself onto Tony’s cock.
It doesn’t last long, but longer than Clint expected with how turned on they both are. Finding a rhythm, Clint sinks down as Tony thrusts his hips up. At one point, Tony finds a ticklish spot on Clint’s side, and he stops riding Tony to fend off the other man’s attacks. Laughing breathlessly, he tries clenching around Tony to distract him, and it works.
The bed is creaking and Clint’s sure that if Tony had any neighbors, they’d be pounding on the wall for them to shut up. Tony angles his hips and he starts hitting Clint’s prostate with every thrust. It’s not long before Clint’s coming, squeezing tightly enough around Tony to make him spill into the condom.
Clint crawls into the middle of Tony’s huge bed and flops, watching as Tony gets up to discard the condom. He tugs Tony into the bed, rolling him over and spooning up behind him. Tony grumbles and complains at being the little spoon, but Clint makes it clear he doesn’t care.
“You’re the little spoon cause you’re short,” he mumbles into the back of Tony’s neck.
“We’re practically the same height!” Tony protests.
“‘Practically’ being the key word,” Clint points out.
“Shut up and enjoy the afterglow, Tin Man.” Clint’s arms wrap around Tony’s shoulders.
“Whatever you say, Katniss.” Tony’s hands find Clint’s.