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Between Master And Servant

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It was dark out. Clint Barton could hear the God of Mischief grunting across the room, pulling off some manner of heavy armor in the blackness of the penthouse suite where they had set up temporarily.

He himself stayed still in his relatively relaxed position in a seat by the window, staring out at the sparkling evening glow of their new location, Stuttgart, Germany. They did not speak for a while; he had only come in with Loki because Loki had not dismissed him to another hotel room yet. Thus, Clint figured he must have something to say.

 In the silver and yellowy city lights streaming through the window, strange shadows were splayed through the room. At Loki’s sudden inclination to speak, Clint sat up straighter in his seat, peering at the silhouette of the god across the room.

“I will commend you on your job well done today, Barton. Our intel will prove us successful tomorrow evening.” Loki purred in a smooth, very indeed lauding tone. Clint immediately felt this surge of pride out of nowhere. He bowed his head but kept his eyes forward so he could have the sight of Loki stepping toward him in the light from the window, tall, imposing, but in his eyes there was a calmness.

They had a glorious purpose to fulfill after all, one that required a grace and confidence that Loki surely possessed.

“Thank you, sir.” Clint murmured, keeping his eye contact with Loki’s icy gaze down at him, and while Loki tilted his head and hummed contentedly toward him, Clint’s eyes moved. Loki had stripped all of his armor and remained in slim, black, long sleeved top of a ribbed material, and tight leather pants. His hands were unassumingly behind his back. He was still standing there. Clint dragged his eyes back up to Loki’s face inquisitively.

His spell-hazed mind buzzed with a harassing need to please, to be sure that Loki needed nothing else before they retired for the night. He had quickly discovered that leaving Loki’s presence without knowing so resulted in headaches and nightmares alike. It was greatly unpleasant, and he wanted nothing more than to ensure this did not happen by making Loki happy. Seeking that approval and placating his need to be of service. “Is there something else you need, sir?”

Loki grinned slowly, coolly lifting a pale hand to card through his black hair, pushing it back further where it had fallen briefly out of place. To Clint he said, “How about you stand?”

Clint did, immediately and sharply.

“Put your bow down. By Valhalla, we are alone in a penthouse, no need for that.” Loki said quickly, and Clint dropped it on reflex. Loki took a step closer to him, only two feet away, and Clint stood still, military style still, watching Loki directly in front of him, the frantic need to serve-please-pacify-satisfy becoming a burning in his mind, and somehow it seemed Loki enjoyed watching him itch to obey.

“How do you feel…?” Loki asked in a low tone as if he truly didn’t know already, taking a few steps in a little half circle around Clint in the darkness, pacing, observing him.

“I feel your energy. It’s…through me completely.” He answered honestly. All he felt was Loki’s energizing and fulfilling presence. Loki smiled at this affectedly.

“Why don’t you relax. You won’t be dismissed anytime soon. I want to measure your devotion to me.” Loki said with a raise of his arm to Clint’s outer jacket edge. Clint did as he was told gratefully. He sighed outwardly and peeled off the jacket to his short sleeved black tee shirt underneath, and took off his utility belt, depositing them on the couch behind him. He watched Loki freely now, the formal stiffness gone from him. Now he was a servant. Now, he was free to stare and shroud himself in Loki’s presence.

Loki reached for him again, a hand coming across Clint’s body to reach on the shoulder farthest, and pressed down, lowering Clint to sit on the couch again. Loki slid down beside him, watching him intently.

“I must say, I enjoy your company this way. You have the strongest will out of the rest of my…lackeys. If you will. Tell me…Tell me why I sense that you have this will. And why I feel it binds you to mine so strongly…” Loki was saying. Clint blinked repeatedly. Loki’s silky voice was echoing in his mind, overwhelming the senses.

“I…it’s like my arrows, with a fine, sharp point. With a direct destination. Your purpose. You do everything with a direct motive. You’re all precision and it’s like my arrows. And I like that.” There was the quiver nearby, between and behind them in the cushion, and Clint had reached to touch the shaft of one of the arrows with his fingertips. His answer must have pleased Loki, to his relief, because Loki was making another nod of approval.

“How interesting. Well said. Now direct yourself at me, then. I want to be your focus tonight, Clint Barton. I wish to relish in the fact that I have your mind.” The mischief god said, and Clint gaped in disbelief, because his mental connection to Loki’s made the message unmistakable as to exactly what Loki wanted out of him this evening. Loki leaned all the way back in the seat for good measure, stretching out those long arms over the back edge of the couch and uncrossing his legs, reclining in stunning, elegant lines of black and darkness and leather.

“Lay worship upon me.” Loki added with a ravenous smirk.

Clint just barely hesitated, relatively afraid of crossing some sort of line of reverence. He reached, his palm raising to press just so at Loki’s side as he twisted on the couch to better face the god. Loki made an audible groan straight away at the contact, and Clint flinched, removing his hand immediately, until with a glance at Loki’s glittering and teasing eyes, he realized the groan had been to see if he would flinch in the first place. He smirked back at that, couldn’t help it.

This strangely was enough for him to remove all hesitation, and so he touched in earnest. He felt Loki take a smooth, slow breath inward as he pressed his hand this time up Loki’s thigh, coming to rest on his hip. He kept Loki’s gaze and then realized again that Loki had said worship.

“I look forward to your rule here.” He began diligently, having never worshipped before and so this all came anew. He paused for approval and Loki looked about to purr again. “Mm…do you really?” He asked almost hopefully, curiously, and Clint nodded, excited to assure Loki of such.

“Yes.” He moved to his knees on the floor beside Loki’s leg, then with a brief idea, scrambled between Loki’s knees, moving both hands up the leather pants, grasping and rubbing Loki’s thighs as he watched Loki’s mouth fall slightly ajar at the feeling, eyes lidded heavily, watching him for more. “My  king. You are…truly my god and king.” Clint murmured, trapped gazing up at Loki’s face, and Loki nibbled his lip as he listened.

Clint swallowed as he watched the nibble—Loki’s lips looked soft and lightly pink, and they were getting redder from the pressure of Loki’s teeth. Clint felt his heart beating faster while he watched, and he moved automatically now. He’d worship with his hands, since words seemed to escape him at the moment.

He took Loki’s right foot beside him, one hand palming Loki’s leathered-clothed calf, the other on the heel of the leather boot and he slid it off with a firm, smooth tug, placing the boot aside, then he twisted himself toward the other boot and repeated the process. Was that a giggle from Loki? The sound was foreign and pleasantly unnerving. It sort of made his insides twinge.

With the boots gone, Clint blindly ran his hands all the way up the leather again. Loki shuddered in pleasure beneath his palms, and to cause such a reaction in his master sent a shiver down his spine in return, and his mouth fell open slightly in admiration. Loki grabbed Clint’s wrists, tugging his hands up to his waist as soon as they reached the top of Loki’s thighs.

“Move faster, Hawk. Do I strike you as the slow and apprehensive type?” Loki murmured. Clint climbed. He moved himself up so a knee was on either side of Loki’s lap, and, finally free to touch, he pushed both hands into Loki’s hair indulgently. Loki stared up at him, eyebrows lightly raised, their faces conveniently lit by the city lights from the window.

“Oh you’ve wanted this, haven’t you, Barton…” Loki droned. Before Clint could even answer—and Clint always answered immediately—Loki had grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him forward authoritatively, pressing their lips together. Clint groaned first, shifting his body against Loki. The energy flowing through him grew into a near unbearable, overpowering pulse at the contact. His hands massaged through Loki’s hair while Loki ever so lightly rutted upward against him, hands sliding down Clint’s sides while he sighed in blatant satisfaction.

Clint couldn’t help leaning into the kiss, deepening it. He prodded inquisitively with his tongue at Loki’s mouth, and Loki opened, letting him in, letting him explore the cool wetness there. Loki’s entire body felt exceptionally cool and refreshing in the now rather warm room.

His arms moved from Loki’s hair back down reverently to Loki’s waist and gripped him there; he gripped at the narrow waist and allowed himself to wonder about lifting, holding, carrying Loki around. He would try it soon, he decided. For now the couch was inviting and sitting atop Loki was more than a privilege.

“Mm…” he vocalized through their now suddenly messy, rather desperate kissing. “I want this…” Clint breathed against Loki’s now kiss swollen mouth. “I want to belong to you and do everything you need…I’m addicted…” The words spilled out of him effortlessly until Loki was smirking unbridled.

“I know, oh I know, Clint, sh…” Loki murmured back, reaching down between them to Clint’s t-shirt hem. He lifted sharply, and Clint immediately raised his hands to allow Loki to whip it off over his head and fling it away. Loki’s hands were all over his shirtless form like a greedy child with its favorite toy and Clint moaned at the contact, pitching forward to attach his teeth to Loki’s neck. Loki made little breathy moans of delight as Clint sucked hard, deep on the crook of his neck and dragged open mouthed kisses up near Loki’s ear.

He nipped at the pale ear-lobe and Loki keened rather beautifully, that being the moment that Clint realized exactly how confining and uncomfortable his pants were. So he attached to that ear, daring to tongue in it while he unbuttoned his pants. Anything to please his new ruler ceaselessly.

Loki was clawing at his back, digging his nails in tantalizingly and rocking against him, panting his bliss as apparently that right ear was a hot spot. Clint focused there, and tugged on Loki’s top’s hem with his other hand as he did so, and Loki hissed. “Remove it.”

Clint lifted, feeling himself grow all the harder as his fingers brushed taut, pastel skin while he removed the black top and dropped it to the floor, leaning back to stare as he worked again on taking off his own pants next. Loki let him look, watching with wide, bright eyes that caught the light in such a way that they sported a predatory glow while Clint tossed his pants and again settled on top of Loki, still staring.

Then Loki had to lose patience with Clint’s gawking—because honestly the man was in a trance—and he shifted his hips, Clint finding himself abruptly splayed overtop Loki on the couch, laid between Loki’s legs. His hand was being wordlessly directed to Loki’s pants buckle and they kept eye contact while Clint snapped open the leather pants. Loki tantalizingly wiggled his hips to assist Clint’s pulling and Clint tugged the pants all the way off, sliding them down the impossibly long legs, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of Loki open and exposed before him.

He seamlessly leaned in a purposefully bowing stance and planted kisses to the inside of Loki’s white thighs, and felt a reaffirming grip in his hair as a result. Lost in his subservience Clint licked his way up, coming frustratingly close directly between those gorgeous legs and a waiting arousal—and how he longed to taste that—but he was pulled up by Loki with a sharp breath of “Later for that, Barton. Other things first.” Loki wrapped his legs around Clint’s waist and began wantonly grinding against him for friction instead.

Clint was now shamelessly hard, laid over top of Loki with one hand in his hair and the other holding Loki’s upper thigh where the leg was wrapped low around his hips. He gave Loki a few more kisses, then sat up on his heels, still between Loki’s knees.

“Can we—ahem—get to the bed, my Lord?” He asked carefully, fidgeting in his desire to just tug Loki over and bury himself in the god. Loki sat up in front of him and pulled him into yet another open mouthed kiss.

“I’d like for you to just call me Loki whenever we’re together like this.” He moaned against the kiss. Clint could hardly believe his ears.

“You mean there’s future times—”

“Bed, Clint.” Loki interrupted with the tone of an order. Clint sprung to his feet, and when Loki just waited, staring up at him, he quickly got the hint and grinned, bending to scoop Loki from the couch and carry him, to much pleased giggling. He crossed the few steps to the large bed with Loki simultaneously playing in his hair and sucking on his jawbone. He fell into bed with Loki and they rolled into the center where Loki steadfastly wrapped his legs around Clint’s hips again and pulled Clint into a harsh and nearly bruising kiss. Clint jerked, a bit overwhelmed, grunting at the sudden, eager contact but opening his mouth nonetheless, where Loki’s tongue invaded him and tasted him.

“Here—” Loki muttered, and suddenly in one of his hands was a vial of oil. Clint was only just now getting used to how Loki pulled objects out of nowhere as if he had an invisible pocket in the air just beside him at all times. He briefly noted that Loki probably did have an invisible pocket, and took the vial wordlessly but dropped it in the sheets beside him, not quite done playing with Loki in a preliminary manner yet.

“Suck, now…” Loki breathed the order, and Clint scrambled lower immediately, grasping Loki by the thighs, and placed his mouth over the head of his master’s aching cock; Loki mewed lightly at the contact. Clint had never done this particular service before, but with Loki…it was natural and easy. He bobbed, listening to Loki cry out as he took Loki nearly all the way into his mouth, until he felt Loki at the back of his throat and he automatically swallowed against the sensation. Loki made a bucking move with his hips, and Clint just took it, wanting Loki to do whatever he felt fit.

Apparently Loki felt it fit to grab the Hawk by the hair and thrust punishingly into his mouth, so that is just what happened. For minutes and minutes Clint groaned with his mouth overfull of Loki while Loki pleased himself seemingly endlessly, panting out his pleasures, watching Clint’s lips stretched open around his length.

It went on until Clint began to feel Loki trembling under him with retrained orgasmic pleasure, and then Clint was yanked up by the hair and they gazed at one another through a few breaths before Clint closed the distance and Loki indulged in tasting himself on Clint’s mouth.

“Prepare.” Loki ordered the single word, and Clint moved, keeping attached to Loki’s mouth while he blindly reached for the oil vial, found it, and deftly twisted it open.

“Me or…” Clint separated to whisper this inquiry against Loki’s lips, and Loki chuckled at him and paused to admire his face before answering, seemingly thinking about it.

“Hmm…I want you in me. You are performing a service, dear Hawk. You will service me,” Loki stated, “—and I shall simply lay and take.”

Clint made something of an almost squeaking moan, unable to hide his raw need to oblige whole-heartedly. He tipped the vial into his hand, emptying the entirety of the small container, and slicked his cock with the oil and subsequently his own pre-come, Loki all the while watching him hungrily, eyes gleamingly transfixed on the sight while he impatiently grasped at Clint’s upper thighs with his hands.

When Clint’s oil-slicked fingers traced at Loki’s entrance while the other hand still gripping his own readied cock, Loki opened his mouth in gasping anticipation. Eager to cause that pretty mouth to make a sound, Clint pushed two fingers inside of Loki’s tight opening immediately, watching Loki’s face, and Loki indeed brought forth a beautiful, beautiful gasping moan, a long and fervent one.

“Loki…” Clint breathed while he worked his fingers, and moved his free had to first caress Loki’s hair, then descend to grip Loki’s hip. Loki closed his eyes, head tossed back as Clint breached him now with three fingers rather quickly, knowing he could take it and more. Loki choked out a sharp cry though while he relished in the feeling of being stretched, and Clint laid himself more closely over Loki while he worked, moving to caress at the back of Loki’s neck with his free hand and also to mouth slowly, torturously at Loki’s throat, his tongue twirling in smooth circles of kisses.

He thrust with his fingers deep into Loki, trying to get in even past the last knuckle. Loki was pushing upward to meet each thrust, needy and demanding, gripping Clint’s arm so hard in one hand that it was starting to bruise. “Fourth finger Barton—” Loki suddenly blurted, and Clint obeyed readily, even as he himself was panting hard by now, trying to keep from coming before even getting to invade Loki truly in earnest. With now four fingers in, Loki’s face was flushed all pink at the cheeks and neck, and he squirmed under Clint’s attentive hold, letting loose sounds that Clint swore were going to send him over the edge prematurely.


“Oh!! Inside!” Loki was exclaiming through his stressed breathing. Clint hesitated for only a moment, then realized if he did not move quickly Loki would likely get frustrated and force him. And as much as he certainly did not mind a forcing, it pleased Loki much, much more when his commands were followed straight away.

He groaned, bowing his head against Loki’s shoulder while he finally, finally replaced his fingers with heavily, achingly swollen cock. Loki was wrapped around him thoroughly with both arms and both legs, and tightening his thighs’ grip around Clint.

“Move. Hard.” Loki’s mouth commanded from pressed against his right ear, voice low and sultry and forceful.

Clint first slowly pushed into Loki fully until he was tightly sheathed to the hilt, listening while Loki moaned obscenely, which in turn caused him to dare biting down on Loki’s shoulder.

“Nnh—yes, Clint that’s it…” Loki mumbled in his ecstasy. Clint only grunted his reply while he latched his mouth onto the side of Loki’s face and pulled out nearly all the way before slamming himself back inside, and Loki screamed for him.

Clint set a harsh, grueling pace as he moved, latching onto Loki’s sensitive ear again while Loki panted in time with his thrusts, occasionally murmuring his name as a reward, along with something about being filled to the point of it burning. Clint cried out as that particular murmur nearly caused him to lose it.

He felt Loki rutting to meet his grinds in return and he continued in his efforts to try and pummel Loki into the mattress.

“Tell me—tell me more instructions—” Clint found himself begging, and Loki took a few more gasps and managed a word.


Clint registered exactly what he meant, now being flawlessly tuned in to Loki’s wants. Loki’s arms fell away from Clint to allow him more movement, and Clint continued pounding into Loki while he hooked his arms behind Loki’s knees and pressed back down against him, now with Loki’s legs on his shoulders—

Loki’s eyes screwed shut and his head was thrown back in abandon by now as he chanted a steady stream of “Oh”, hands clawing above and behind himself to grip the headboard. They moved together fluidly now, Clint beginning to dampen with sweat from his unrestrained efforts.

It shortly became evident that Loki had started to breathlessly giggle, and Clint hadn’t at all predicted Loki to be the type to have giggly sex but now that he was hearing it, it made him let out another automatic moan. His hands played gently along Loki’s thighs, their care and soothing directly contrasting the sharp thrusts he was serving Loki with.

“I—I’m gonna’—” he started to force, when suddenly Loki sneered and changed position without warning. Clint’s vision nearly blurred with the shocking amount of pleasure when he suddenly found himself on his back. Loki had placed two hands in the sheets beside Clint’s head for support and was riding on top of him, bouncing enthusiastically on Clint’s cock, impaling himself over and over until Clint was nearly shrieking.

And then Loki slowed, leaning down all the way, sliding his hands all the way down to hold at Clint’s hips and kissed Clint deeply before speaking, his lips still brushing Clint’s tauntingly even while he mercilessly continued fucking himself on Clint’s length.

“I want you to explode inside me, Barton…I want to be full of your seed—now.”


So Clint let loose a long, pealing shout and followed orders.


Loki soon came right after him—keeping his eyes open to drink in the sight of his loyal Hawkeye unraveled beneath him—spurting streams of release all over them both. He let out a few hoarse cries of Clint’s name while they together rode out the waves upon waves of completion, Loki finally burying his face in the side of Clint’s neck and they were both winded, gasping for deep breaths.

While they caught their breath, Loki just stilled there for a moment, collapsed on top of Clint while Clint shuddered in the wake of such a forceful climax. His arms came up around Loki when he finally was taking full, clean deep breaths.

Loki made a little groan and slid off of Clint, chuckling a bit as he rolled over onto his back, still in the hold of one of Clint’s arms. Clint opened his mouth to speak and Loki turned his head to stare, an expression of exhausted amusement stuck on his face.

“That was—” Clint started, but didn’t finish. He was stuck in a stunned gaze at the ceiling. Loki laughed again, a light, free laugh that Clint now realized he loved to hear because it didn’t happen often.

He decided he’d try to get that laugh to happen many more times in the near future. Anything to service his would-be-king.

Loki reached over to touch in Clint’s hair. “And I must again, Barton, commend you on your job well done.”