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Strangers to Ourselves

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Clint” Steve barked on the coms, giving up on any ominous innuendos. “It's not just a strength-enhancing serum – it's sex pollen ! Loki will go into a frenzy and you're just – you're just human ! He'll kill you !”

Not if I take it too” Clint said calmly.

Everyone just stayed speechless for a second.

“Clint – ”

“You think I'm having fun here ?” the archer spat.


Clint rolled on his back, tangling up in the sheets. His head briskly jerked on the side, his fingers clenched ; but he did not wake up.


I'm not – we're not going to fuck. Not with you. No way in hell !”

He couldn't breathe, he was hot, too hot, as though his skin was catching fire.

“Let's just – let's just get away from each other. Until it's over...”

But Loki grabbed his arm and licked a long stripe up his bicep –


Clint was covered in sweat ; his eyes were moving restlessly behind his eyelids. He was still moving with sudden, jerky movements. And he was still not waking up.


“Let's make a deal” Loki whispered against his skin.

“What – what deal ?”


He choked in his sleep and arched in the bed, panting and radiating heat.


“Let me fuck you – and I will show you first why they call me Silvertongue.”


Clint clenched his jaw and let out an inarticulate whimper, trembling, his fingers instinctively slipping down his boxers –


He wanted it, he wanted it, he needed to be filled, to be stretched, he missed it as though he would have missed a part of himself, and when Loki straddled him, when he pinned him down, he screamed for it, he begged for it, and it hurt and it burned but Loki forced him to take it and he came and he came and he came –


– and he came before he could even touch himself, with a shameless, obscene groan, shaking uncontrollably in abandon.

He rolled on his side, breathing with deep, heaving gasps. His orgasm had woken him up, but the powerful afterglow made it very difficult for him to come round. Pieces of his dream lingered in his mind on the way out, extreme close-ups of Loki's face, memory of the strong grip of his hands as he dragged him up in his lap.


“You were good, Barton.”

He was wrung out, and Loki's voice as he praised him was clear and perfect like a sharp diamond. The god's hands manipulated him, controlled his every move as though he was just his puppet. Just his fuckdoll. There was a hand in his hair, petting him.

His head dropped down in overt submission, and he stammered with heartfelt, desperate sincerity, “Thank you, sir.”


Clint rolled on the side, still panting, his heart rapidly calming in his chest, his groin a hot, sticky mess. He grabbed his alarm clock and stared at the digital numbers for a long minute as the dream finished unraveling in his head.


Then he closed his eyes and threw it to smash against the wall.