every sigh and scream we make
Title: every sigh and scream we make
Author: somehowunbroken
Betas: shinysylver and sirona_gs
Fandom: Avengers movieverse (Earth-199999) influenced by Marvel 616
Characters: Clint/Bucky
Word Count: 3,278
Rating: NC-17
Notes: This contains, in various amounts, rough sex, dirty talk, breathplay, and hatesex. Everything is completely consensual. Also, eternal thanks to both shinysylver and sirona_gs, without whom this would be much, much worse. Title is from Three Days Grace's "I Hate Everything About You," which is a fantastic song that you should totally listen to.
Summary: Bucky Barnes is not what Clint was expecting.
Bucky Barnes is not what Clint was expecting.
To be fair, he doesn’t really know what he is expecting, except that it’s not this man, whipcord-thin, hair long and shaggy with something dark in his eyes as he stands in the otherwise-empty hallway in the mansion. It’s not the razor-sharp smile that he gets when he holds out his hand, nor the crushing grip when Bucky takes it.
“James,” he says, and Clint grins, rolls forward on his toes, and says, “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”
There’s a small part of Clint - a tiny part, really, nothing to get all hyped up over - but something in Clint hates Bucky on sight. Everyone knows who Bucky was - is - to Steve, and in his head, Clint has always sort of slotted himself in as Bucky’s replacement. Tony is Steve’s best friend, there’s no doubting that, but Clint - Clint’s the sniper who’s got Steve’s back, the guy who bitches merrily along when Steve’s got an idea, the one who’s been utterly, completely there when he needs to be.
Which is stupid, Clint knows, but there you have it.
And now, now Bucky’s back, and that small part of Clint rears its ugly head and digs in its heels, and Clint can’t help but really, honestly hate the guy for a minute. And then he remembers Steve’s face when they’d found him, astonished and grateful and so fucking happy, and he can’t - he can’t hate Bucky, not really, not fully. Dislike, though, that’s still very much on the table.
They’re almost eye-to-eye, Clint notices as they stand in not-quite-awkward silence. Clint barely notices the half an inch he has on Bucky, wouldn’t notice it at all except he’s looking for it. He tries to straighten up subtly, to stretch their height difference just a bit more, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
Bucky grins at him again, still that sharp, brittle thing. “What do you think you gotta prove to me, pal?”
“Nothing,” Clint retorts before he even thinks about opening his mouth. “Trust me, pal, I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”
“Ah,” Bucky says, and there’s that dangerous thing in his eyes again, hot and bright. “Bigger is better, really, is that how things are nowadays? And here Steve was trying to convince me that folks are more easygoing in the future.” His smile is almost reckless, like he knows he’s pushing Clint’s buttons, bringing Steve up like that.
Fuck, Clint thinks, for all he knows, Bucky does know he’s pushing buttons. It seems like the kind of thing the guy might like doing.
Well, fuck that. Clint can push right back.
“Well, bigger is never worse,” he says, smirking a little. He’s in Bucky’s space now, close enough that when he rocks up on his toes again, Bucky has to look up to meet his eyes. Clint lets his smirk grow, but Bucky - Bucky does the same.
“Being little ain’t so bad,” Bucky almost purrs, and before Clint can even register the phrase, Bucky has one hand in his hair and the other on his ass, and it takes less than three steps for Bucky to back him into the nearest wall and smash their mouths together.
Clint freezes for all of two seconds before grabbing at Bucky’s arms and opening his mouth. He’s aiming for the push-away-and-start-yelling tactic, but Bucky is stronger than he looks, and he keeps Clint pinned to the wall as he grabs Clint’s ass and kisses Clint hard.
And, well, Clint is only human, and fuck, Bucky can kiss. He’s smooth and more than a little suggestive, pushing his tongue into Clint’s mouth and groping his ass in time, and yeah, there’s really no doubt what he’s insinuating. Clint groans into Bucky’s mouth, realizes that he’s holding on and leaning in, and abruptly turns his head to the side and shoves. Bucky pulls his face away, but keeps his body plastered to Clint’s.
“The fuck,” he pants out, “what the hell, Barnes, is this one of those assassination techniques they taught you in Commie School?”
Bucky grins and rocks his hips into Clint’s. Clint gasps, and Bucky bites his lip, like he wants to, too, but won’t give Clint the satisfaction.
“You’re a bastard,” Clint informs him, yanking until Bucky is back where he started; Clint might not have planned any of this, but he’ll be damned if he lets Bucky walk away at this point. He can damn well finish what he started.
This time it’s Clint pressing their mouths together. It’s no less electric, though, and Bucky keeps up with his groping and hip-rolling and frighteningly wicked kissing. Clint pulls back when the need to breathe gets more urgent than his need to keep Bucky’s tongue in his mouth, and Bucky looks at him, just looks at him, eyes wide and dark and a definite flush to his cheeks. He’s grinning again, and there’s something more teasing than sharp in it when he leans in.
“Let’s move this elsewhere,” he says right into Clint’s ear, and then his tongue flicks out at Clint’s earlobe. Clint finds himself nodding and jerking his head down the hallway towards his room before he even thinks it through.
His mind doesn’t change when he does process the thought, though, because he can already tell this is going to be pretty spectacular.
Bucky slams Clint into the wall as soon as the door shuts, pressing right back against his body. Clint arches his back to rub their hips together, and Bucky leans in to nip sharply at Clint’s mouth. “Stay put,” he says as he leans away.
Clint ignores him completely as Bucky takes a step back. He reaches for Bucky’s hips, wanting that friction back, but before he makes contact Bucky grabs for his wrists and pins them back against the wall.
“You know, you don’t follow directions very well,” Bucky says thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side as if he’s considering something. Quick as lightning, his left hand slides up Clint’s arm, metal fingers sliding loosely around Clint’s throat. “You need incentive, is that it?”
“Christ,” Clint gasps out, one hand going to Bucky’s hip and the other grabbing for his bicep. He holds on as he rolls his hips into Bucky once, twice, before Bucky laughs deep in his throat and leans in until his mouth is resting where his finger brushes against Clint’s earlobe.
“Stay,” he says softly, so softly, and then he takes a half-step back, keeping his hand around Clint’s throat. Clint whimpers as Bucky trails his free hand down Clint’s chest, just heavy enough to be felt. He pushes in harder when he reaches Clint’s nipple, scratching through Clint’s shirt until Clint is breathing out needy-sounding whines every time he opens his mouth. Bucky looks up through his lashes and grins.
“Don’t move,” he says like it’s a warning, closing his fingers just a bit more tightly around Clint’s throat. Clint works to swallow and nods the tiniest bit, and when Bucky draws his hand away, Clint stays put.
“Good boy,” Bucky says, tone mocking, but for once in his life, Clint doesn’t rise to the bait. He keeps his head and hands where they are and just smirks as Bucky settles his hands on Clint’s waist. “Hey, look at that. He listens.”
“Gonna change my mind really soon,” Clint says, but he still doesn’t move into Bucky’s touch, into the heat he’s throwing off. “I mean, standing’s awesome, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not really where I thought this was headed.”
Bucky taps his thumb against Clint’s hip. “You know, I’m almost tempted to ask you where you thought it was headed, but I think I’d rather just show you what I was thinking instead.” Before Clint can come up with a reply, Bucky moves his hand down between Clint’s legs and cups Clint through his pants. Clint pulls in a shuddering breath and rolls his hips. Bucky doesn’t stop him.
“We gonna do this against the wall?” Clint manages. “I can roll with that, but I’m just warning you, I’ll have to move my hands.”
Bucky starts to walk backwards, metal hand still firm on Clint’s hip. He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder as he goes, pulling Clint along with him, but he doesn’t stumble once as he makes his way towards the bed. In no time at all, he’s turning to shove Clint down, falling with him onto the mattress.
“Naked time,” Bucky says, oddly cheerful, and then he’s tugging Clint’s shirt up over his head. He twists it at the last minute, tangling Clint’s hands in the fabric instead of freeing his arms, and while Clint’s busy scowling and tugging at his shirt, Bucky lowers his mouth to Clint’s chest and pulls a nipple into his mouth. Clint stops trying to free his hands and groans as Bucky bites and licks and blows a breathless laugh across his chest. Clint opens his mouth and shuts it again, not sure what he was going to say. He’s got the sneaking suspicion that he was actually going to beg, to slur words and moans together and ask for more.
He closes his eyes and arches his back instead of saying anything. Given the way Bucky slides his hands down Clint’s sides and laughs, he’s pretty sure Bucky knows, anyway.
“I thought you said it was naked time,” Clint says after a moment, looking pointedly at Bucky’s still-clothed body. Bucky shrugs a shoulder and leans back, pulling his shirt off and tossing it towards the door. Clint finally pulls his wrists free from his own shirt and drops it to the floor, then wastes no time reaching for Bucky.
The feel of skin on skin is delicious, almost hypnotic. Clint trails his fingers up Bucky's metal arm and grips at the place where metal becomes skin, half his palm on the metal shoulder and half on Bucky's neck. Bucky shudders, letting his eyes fall half-closed, and Clint strokes the line deliberately, watching as Bucky bows his head at the touch.
"Enough playing," Bucky growls suddenly, pressing his hips down into Clint's. Clint lets his legs fall open, humming in satisfaction as Bucky lines their hips up and thrusts down against him. Clint pulls a leg out from beneath Bucky's body and throws it across the back of his thighs, drawing him in closer. The friction is incredible, and Clint closes his eyes and rolls up into it. He nearly whimpers when Bucky lifts his hips up.
Bucky's amused snort makes Clint open his eyes and look up. He's thumbing at the button on his jeans, and Clint hurries to do the same; by the time he's got his pants on the floor, Bucky is naked on the edge of the bed, watching Clint with dark eyes. He's nothing short of stunning, and it's all Clint can do to force himself to finish getting naked before reaching out to trace the shape of Bucky's chest, his abs, the trail of hair leading down his stomach. Bucky inhales sharply when Clint's fingers close around his dick, and Clint rubs the head with his thumb, watching as Bucky visibly restrains himself from pushing up into Clint's hand.
Bucky lunges forward with no warning, knocking Clint's hand free and pushing him back down to the mattress. Clint laughs a little, breathless, but it quickly turns into a choked-off sort of groan as Bucky settles his hips back against Clint's. Their cocks line up perfectly, and Clint lets Bucky set up a rhythm that's just too slow to be enough for either of them. Clint holds onto Bucky's hip with one hand and the sheets above his head with the other, while Bucky mouths his way around Clint's jaw, his neck, his shoulder. He licks just below Clint's ear and Clint shudders, and when Bucky grins against his skin and opens his mouth, Clint tilts his head to the side. Bucky latches on with his teeth, and Clint shudders as he works the spot with his mouth. He can almost feel the skin bruising. There's definitely going to be a mark there in a few hours, Clint thinks hazily.
"So," Bucky says, almost conversationally. "How did you see this going, anyway?"
"Figured you'd be fucking me by now," Clint says. His voice is raspy and low, and he can see the way it hits Bucky, how his eyes darken and his lips purse.
"I can do that," he says, as if it's something he hadn't already thought of. Clint rocks his hips up against Bucky's and raises an eyebrow, and the grin Bucky gives him this time is devilish, like he figures it's not worth trying to convince Clint that he hadn't been thinking just that.
To be fair, Clint wouldn't have believed it, not for a second.
Bucky slides down Clint's body effortlessly. "You got something?"
Clint reaches out and pulls the bedstand drawer open, finding the lube and a condom and tossing them down onto the bed. Bucky opens the tube and slicks his fingers up, and Clint spreads his legs and plants his feet on the mattress. Bucky gives him a grin as he pushes a finger inside Clint's body, and the shock of the cold metal inside him and the warm, wet heat of Bucky’s mouth as he sucks Clint's dick in is enough to tear an embarrassing sound from Clint's throat.
The laugh that Bucky lets loose doesn’t help Clint in his fight to regain his composure.
Clint does his best to focus on things other than what Bucky’s doing to him, but it’s hard to ignore the way Bucky is thrusting his finger in and out smoothly and bobbing his head over the tip of Clint’s cock, alternately sucking and licking as he adds another finger. It’s a struggle to keep a rein on how fucking good it feels, until Bucky lets Clint’s dick fall from his mouth and says, “Y’know, I’m not gonna think any less of you if you can’t hold on.”
Clint narrows his eyes and resolutely thinks about baseball stats, about Doombots, about the exact color of the Hulk’s skin. It helps immensely, and by the time Bucky’s moving three fingers smoothly in and out, Clint is pretty sure he’s got a handle on things.
The smirk Bucky gives him as he takes Clint’s dick back into his mouth says that he’s well aware of the effects he’s having on Clint. Clint would tell him off for being smug, except for the fact that he’s got every reason to be. There’s also the fact that Clint is pretty sure that if he opens his mouth, something really embarrassing is going to come out.
“You ready for me?” Bucky asks. His voice is raw, like he’s been taking Clint deep in his throat for hours instead of just teasing him for the last few minutes. It sends a shiver down Clint’s spine as he nods.
“Good,” Bucky says, leaning in to nip at Clint’s hip. He pulls his fingers out and splays his hand on Clint’s stomach. The metal is warm against Clint’s skin now, and there’s a distant thrill in the edges of Clint’s concentration at the realization. I did that, he thinks.
Bucky grabs for the condom and rolls it on, then opens the lube and pours out a generous amount. Clint pulls his legs back nearly to his chest; he’s always been limber, and he has the feeling he’s going to appreciate that shortly. Sure enough, Bucky moves up the bed and pushes in slowly, leaning on Clint’s legs until his knees touch his shoulders. The position raises his ass up off the bed, and Bucky slides in a little further; he grunts as he settles himself against Clint’s body, leaning in to nip at his lips. Clint opens his mouth immediately, drawing Bucky’s tongue into his mouth and sucking gently. He crosses his feet behind Bucky’s head, keeping him in place when he tries to pull back. Clint smiles up at him as wickedly as he can manage and digs his heel into the top of Bucky’s spine.
Bucky laughs and leans down again, and this time there’s no teasing, no playing as he pushes his tongue into Clint’s mouth. There’s no denying who’s in charge at this point, and it’s sure as hell not Clint.
He could not care less, though, because Bucky starts to move, and it’s the tiniest little movements, more rocking together than actually doing anything. Clint can feel every shift, though, every slide against his prostate, and he moans into Bucky’s mouth. He wants desperately to get a hand around his cock, but that would mean untangling his legs, and he definitely doesn’t want to do that. Clint tries to rub himself against the plane of Bucky’s stomach, but Bucky’s weight has him pinned down.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky’s saying above him, and Clint isn’t sure which part he said aloud, but Bucky is shifting a little and arching his back, and he somehow manages to get his hand between them. He wraps his fingers around Clint’s cock and squeezes, just the right side of painful, and Clint lets out a reedy-sounding gasp and moves into Bucky’s next thrust. It makes them both groan.
Bucky sets up a pace, pulling out a little more each time until he’s fucking Clint deep and hard and fast. His hand is still wrapped around the base of Clint’s dick, and he’s trailing his thumb up and down the bottom. It’s almost too much, the way Bucky is thrusting his hips and stroking Clint’s dick and making aborted moaning noises into the air between them, and Clint wants, wants so badly to come.
“Come on,” he gasps, and that’s it, once he’s started talking there’s no way to stop. “Come on, please, let me - I just need a little more,” he pleads.
“Not yet,” Bucky says, pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in. “Soon, just-”
“Please,” Clint groans, sliding his heels down Bucky’s back. “Please, please, just let me - a little more, Bucky, come on, James.”
Bucky ‘s hips stutter for a moment before he picks up again, leaning back and thrusting in quick, sharp snaps. He keeps moving for a moment before suddenly releasing Clint’s cock and gripping his hips, pulling his ass up into the air a little more and sliding in deep. He circles his hips a few times, and Clint reaches for his cock desperately, stroking harshly a few times before spilling over his fingers with a harsh cry.
Bucky keeps moving over him, more erratic now, and it’s not long before he hisses something that Clint doesn’t quite catch and slumps down. He catches himself on his cybernetic arm, his face inches from Clint’s. Clint looks up at him, a lazy smile spreading over his face.
“Not bad,” he says, or tries to. It comes out more slurred than anything else.
Bucky’s returning grin is pointed as he leans in to speak directly into Clint’s ear. “Size ain’t important, pal,” he murmurs. “It’s what you do with what you’ve got.”
Clint watches, dumbfounded, as Bucky pulls out and ties off the condom and picks up his clothes. He doesn’t bother putting them on, but he pauses at the door and looks back, hand on the knob. “I’d be up for doing this again, if you’d like more proof,” he says casually, and then he opens the door and walks out of the room.
Clint can only stare at the door as it shuts behind him.
This was originally posted at http://somehowunbroken.dreamwidth.org/169214.html, where it has
comments. Comment here or there.
Author: somehowunbroken
Betas: shinysylver and sirona_gs
Fandom: Avengers movieverse (Earth-199999) influenced by Marvel 616
Characters: Clint/Bucky
Word Count: 3,278
Rating: NC-17
Notes: This contains, in various amounts, rough sex, dirty talk, breathplay, and hatesex. Everything is completely consensual. Also, eternal thanks to both shinysylver and sirona_gs, without whom this would be much, much worse. Title is from Three Days Grace's "I Hate Everything About You," which is a fantastic song that you should totally listen to.
Summary: Bucky Barnes is not what Clint was expecting.
Bucky Barnes is not what Clint was expecting.
To be fair, he doesn’t really know what he is expecting, except that it’s not this man, whipcord-thin, hair long and shaggy with something dark in his eyes as he stands in the otherwise-empty hallway in the mansion. It’s not the razor-sharp smile that he gets when he holds out his hand, nor the crushing grip when Bucky takes it.
“James,” he says, and Clint grins, rolls forward on his toes, and says, “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”
There’s a small part of Clint - a tiny part, really, nothing to get all hyped up over - but something in Clint hates Bucky on sight. Everyone knows who Bucky was - is - to Steve, and in his head, Clint has always sort of slotted himself in as Bucky’s replacement. Tony is Steve’s best friend, there’s no doubting that, but Clint - Clint’s the sniper who’s got Steve’s back, the guy who bitches merrily along when Steve’s got an idea, the one who’s been utterly, completely there when he needs to be.
Which is stupid, Clint knows, but there you have it.
And now, now Bucky’s back, and that small part of Clint rears its ugly head and digs in its heels, and Clint can’t help but really, honestly hate the guy for a minute. And then he remembers Steve’s face when they’d found him, astonished and grateful and so fucking happy, and he can’t - he can’t hate Bucky, not really, not fully. Dislike, though, that’s still very much on the table.
They’re almost eye-to-eye, Clint notices as they stand in not-quite-awkward silence. Clint barely notices the half an inch he has on Bucky, wouldn’t notice it at all except he’s looking for it. He tries to straighten up subtly, to stretch their height difference just a bit more, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
Bucky grins at him again, still that sharp, brittle thing. “What do you think you gotta prove to me, pal?”
“Nothing,” Clint retorts before he even thinks about opening his mouth. “Trust me, pal, I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”
“Ah,” Bucky says, and there’s that dangerous thing in his eyes again, hot and bright. “Bigger is better, really, is that how things are nowadays? And here Steve was trying to convince me that folks are more easygoing in the future.” His smile is almost reckless, like he knows he’s pushing Clint’s buttons, bringing Steve up like that.
Fuck, Clint thinks, for all he knows, Bucky does know he’s pushing buttons. It seems like the kind of thing the guy might like doing.
Well, fuck that. Clint can push right back.
“Well, bigger is never worse,” he says, smirking a little. He’s in Bucky’s space now, close enough that when he rocks up on his toes again, Bucky has to look up to meet his eyes. Clint lets his smirk grow, but Bucky - Bucky does the same.
“Being little ain’t so bad,” Bucky almost purrs, and before Clint can even register the phrase, Bucky has one hand in his hair and the other on his ass, and it takes less than three steps for Bucky to back him into the nearest wall and smash their mouths together.
Clint freezes for all of two seconds before grabbing at Bucky’s arms and opening his mouth. He’s aiming for the push-away-and-start-yelling tactic, but Bucky is stronger than he looks, and he keeps Clint pinned to the wall as he grabs Clint’s ass and kisses Clint hard.
And, well, Clint is only human, and fuck, Bucky can kiss. He’s smooth and more than a little suggestive, pushing his tongue into Clint’s mouth and groping his ass in time, and yeah, there’s really no doubt what he’s insinuating. Clint groans into Bucky’s mouth, realizes that he’s holding on and leaning in, and abruptly turns his head to the side and shoves. Bucky pulls his face away, but keeps his body plastered to Clint’s.
“The fuck,” he pants out, “what the hell, Barnes, is this one of those assassination techniques they taught you in Commie School?”
Bucky grins and rocks his hips into Clint’s. Clint gasps, and Bucky bites his lip, like he wants to, too, but won’t give Clint the satisfaction.
“You’re a bastard,” Clint informs him, yanking until Bucky is back where he started; Clint might not have planned any of this, but he’ll be damned if he lets Bucky walk away at this point. He can damn well finish what he started.
This time it’s Clint pressing their mouths together. It’s no less electric, though, and Bucky keeps up with his groping and hip-rolling and frighteningly wicked kissing. Clint pulls back when the need to breathe gets more urgent than his need to keep Bucky’s tongue in his mouth, and Bucky looks at him, just looks at him, eyes wide and dark and a definite flush to his cheeks. He’s grinning again, and there’s something more teasing than sharp in it when he leans in.
“Let’s move this elsewhere,” he says right into Clint’s ear, and then his tongue flicks out at Clint’s earlobe. Clint finds himself nodding and jerking his head down the hallway towards his room before he even thinks it through.
His mind doesn’t change when he does process the thought, though, because he can already tell this is going to be pretty spectacular.
Bucky slams Clint into the wall as soon as the door shuts, pressing right back against his body. Clint arches his back to rub their hips together, and Bucky leans in to nip sharply at Clint’s mouth. “Stay put,” he says as he leans away.
Clint ignores him completely as Bucky takes a step back. He reaches for Bucky’s hips, wanting that friction back, but before he makes contact Bucky grabs for his wrists and pins them back against the wall.
“You know, you don’t follow directions very well,” Bucky says thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side as if he’s considering something. Quick as lightning, his left hand slides up Clint’s arm, metal fingers sliding loosely around Clint’s throat. “You need incentive, is that it?”
“Christ,” Clint gasps out, one hand going to Bucky’s hip and the other grabbing for his bicep. He holds on as he rolls his hips into Bucky once, twice, before Bucky laughs deep in his throat and leans in until his mouth is resting where his finger brushes against Clint’s earlobe.
“Stay,” he says softly, so softly, and then he takes a half-step back, keeping his hand around Clint’s throat. Clint whimpers as Bucky trails his free hand down Clint’s chest, just heavy enough to be felt. He pushes in harder when he reaches Clint’s nipple, scratching through Clint’s shirt until Clint is breathing out needy-sounding whines every time he opens his mouth. Bucky looks up through his lashes and grins.
“Don’t move,” he says like it’s a warning, closing his fingers just a bit more tightly around Clint’s throat. Clint works to swallow and nods the tiniest bit, and when Bucky draws his hand away, Clint stays put.
“Good boy,” Bucky says, tone mocking, but for once in his life, Clint doesn’t rise to the bait. He keeps his head and hands where they are and just smirks as Bucky settles his hands on Clint’s waist. “Hey, look at that. He listens.”
“Gonna change my mind really soon,” Clint says, but he still doesn’t move into Bucky’s touch, into the heat he’s throwing off. “I mean, standing’s awesome, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not really where I thought this was headed.”
Bucky taps his thumb against Clint’s hip. “You know, I’m almost tempted to ask you where you thought it was headed, but I think I’d rather just show you what I was thinking instead.” Before Clint can come up with a reply, Bucky moves his hand down between Clint’s legs and cups Clint through his pants. Clint pulls in a shuddering breath and rolls his hips. Bucky doesn’t stop him.
“We gonna do this against the wall?” Clint manages. “I can roll with that, but I’m just warning you, I’ll have to move my hands.”
Bucky starts to walk backwards, metal hand still firm on Clint’s hip. He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder as he goes, pulling Clint along with him, but he doesn’t stumble once as he makes his way towards the bed. In no time at all, he’s turning to shove Clint down, falling with him onto the mattress.
“Naked time,” Bucky says, oddly cheerful, and then he’s tugging Clint’s shirt up over his head. He twists it at the last minute, tangling Clint’s hands in the fabric instead of freeing his arms, and while Clint’s busy scowling and tugging at his shirt, Bucky lowers his mouth to Clint’s chest and pulls a nipple into his mouth. Clint stops trying to free his hands and groans as Bucky bites and licks and blows a breathless laugh across his chest. Clint opens his mouth and shuts it again, not sure what he was going to say. He’s got the sneaking suspicion that he was actually going to beg, to slur words and moans together and ask for more.
He closes his eyes and arches his back instead of saying anything. Given the way Bucky slides his hands down Clint’s sides and laughs, he’s pretty sure Bucky knows, anyway.
“I thought you said it was naked time,” Clint says after a moment, looking pointedly at Bucky’s still-clothed body. Bucky shrugs a shoulder and leans back, pulling his shirt off and tossing it towards the door. Clint finally pulls his wrists free from his own shirt and drops it to the floor, then wastes no time reaching for Bucky.
The feel of skin on skin is delicious, almost hypnotic. Clint trails his fingers up Bucky's metal arm and grips at the place where metal becomes skin, half his palm on the metal shoulder and half on Bucky's neck. Bucky shudders, letting his eyes fall half-closed, and Clint strokes the line deliberately, watching as Bucky bows his head at the touch.
"Enough playing," Bucky growls suddenly, pressing his hips down into Clint's. Clint lets his legs fall open, humming in satisfaction as Bucky lines their hips up and thrusts down against him. Clint pulls a leg out from beneath Bucky's body and throws it across the back of his thighs, drawing him in closer. The friction is incredible, and Clint closes his eyes and rolls up into it. He nearly whimpers when Bucky lifts his hips up.
Bucky's amused snort makes Clint open his eyes and look up. He's thumbing at the button on his jeans, and Clint hurries to do the same; by the time he's got his pants on the floor, Bucky is naked on the edge of the bed, watching Clint with dark eyes. He's nothing short of stunning, and it's all Clint can do to force himself to finish getting naked before reaching out to trace the shape of Bucky's chest, his abs, the trail of hair leading down his stomach. Bucky inhales sharply when Clint's fingers close around his dick, and Clint rubs the head with his thumb, watching as Bucky visibly restrains himself from pushing up into Clint's hand.
Bucky lunges forward with no warning, knocking Clint's hand free and pushing him back down to the mattress. Clint laughs a little, breathless, but it quickly turns into a choked-off sort of groan as Bucky settles his hips back against Clint's. Their cocks line up perfectly, and Clint lets Bucky set up a rhythm that's just too slow to be enough for either of them. Clint holds onto Bucky's hip with one hand and the sheets above his head with the other, while Bucky mouths his way around Clint's jaw, his neck, his shoulder. He licks just below Clint's ear and Clint shudders, and when Bucky grins against his skin and opens his mouth, Clint tilts his head to the side. Bucky latches on with his teeth, and Clint shudders as he works the spot with his mouth. He can almost feel the skin bruising. There's definitely going to be a mark there in a few hours, Clint thinks hazily.
"So," Bucky says, almost conversationally. "How did you see this going, anyway?"
"Figured you'd be fucking me by now," Clint says. His voice is raspy and low, and he can see the way it hits Bucky, how his eyes darken and his lips purse.
"I can do that," he says, as if it's something he hadn't already thought of. Clint rocks his hips up against Bucky's and raises an eyebrow, and the grin Bucky gives him this time is devilish, like he figures it's not worth trying to convince Clint that he hadn't been thinking just that.
To be fair, Clint wouldn't have believed it, not for a second.
Bucky slides down Clint's body effortlessly. "You got something?"
Clint reaches out and pulls the bedstand drawer open, finding the lube and a condom and tossing them down onto the bed. Bucky opens the tube and slicks his fingers up, and Clint spreads his legs and plants his feet on the mattress. Bucky gives him a grin as he pushes a finger inside Clint's body, and the shock of the cold metal inside him and the warm, wet heat of Bucky’s mouth as he sucks Clint's dick in is enough to tear an embarrassing sound from Clint's throat.
The laugh that Bucky lets loose doesn’t help Clint in his fight to regain his composure.
Clint does his best to focus on things other than what Bucky’s doing to him, but it’s hard to ignore the way Bucky is thrusting his finger in and out smoothly and bobbing his head over the tip of Clint’s cock, alternately sucking and licking as he adds another finger. It’s a struggle to keep a rein on how fucking good it feels, until Bucky lets Clint’s dick fall from his mouth and says, “Y’know, I’m not gonna think any less of you if you can’t hold on.”
Clint narrows his eyes and resolutely thinks about baseball stats, about Doombots, about the exact color of the Hulk’s skin. It helps immensely, and by the time Bucky’s moving three fingers smoothly in and out, Clint is pretty sure he’s got a handle on things.
The smirk Bucky gives him as he takes Clint’s dick back into his mouth says that he’s well aware of the effects he’s having on Clint. Clint would tell him off for being smug, except for the fact that he’s got every reason to be. There’s also the fact that Clint is pretty sure that if he opens his mouth, something really embarrassing is going to come out.
“You ready for me?” Bucky asks. His voice is raw, like he’s been taking Clint deep in his throat for hours instead of just teasing him for the last few minutes. It sends a shiver down Clint’s spine as he nods.
“Good,” Bucky says, leaning in to nip at Clint’s hip. He pulls his fingers out and splays his hand on Clint’s stomach. The metal is warm against Clint’s skin now, and there’s a distant thrill in the edges of Clint’s concentration at the realization. I did that, he thinks.
Bucky grabs for the condom and rolls it on, then opens the lube and pours out a generous amount. Clint pulls his legs back nearly to his chest; he’s always been limber, and he has the feeling he’s going to appreciate that shortly. Sure enough, Bucky moves up the bed and pushes in slowly, leaning on Clint’s legs until his knees touch his shoulders. The position raises his ass up off the bed, and Bucky slides in a little further; he grunts as he settles himself against Clint’s body, leaning in to nip at his lips. Clint opens his mouth immediately, drawing Bucky’s tongue into his mouth and sucking gently. He crosses his feet behind Bucky’s head, keeping him in place when he tries to pull back. Clint smiles up at him as wickedly as he can manage and digs his heel into the top of Bucky’s spine.
Bucky laughs and leans down again, and this time there’s no teasing, no playing as he pushes his tongue into Clint’s mouth. There’s no denying who’s in charge at this point, and it’s sure as hell not Clint.
He could not care less, though, because Bucky starts to move, and it’s the tiniest little movements, more rocking together than actually doing anything. Clint can feel every shift, though, every slide against his prostate, and he moans into Bucky’s mouth. He wants desperately to get a hand around his cock, but that would mean untangling his legs, and he definitely doesn’t want to do that. Clint tries to rub himself against the plane of Bucky’s stomach, but Bucky’s weight has him pinned down.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky’s saying above him, and Clint isn’t sure which part he said aloud, but Bucky is shifting a little and arching his back, and he somehow manages to get his hand between them. He wraps his fingers around Clint’s cock and squeezes, just the right side of painful, and Clint lets out a reedy-sounding gasp and moves into Bucky’s next thrust. It makes them both groan.
Bucky sets up a pace, pulling out a little more each time until he’s fucking Clint deep and hard and fast. His hand is still wrapped around the base of Clint’s dick, and he’s trailing his thumb up and down the bottom. It’s almost too much, the way Bucky is thrusting his hips and stroking Clint’s dick and making aborted moaning noises into the air between them, and Clint wants, wants so badly to come.
“Come on,” he gasps, and that’s it, once he’s started talking there’s no way to stop. “Come on, please, let me - I just need a little more,” he pleads.
“Not yet,” Bucky says, pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in. “Soon, just-”
“Please,” Clint groans, sliding his heels down Bucky’s back. “Please, please, just let me - a little more, Bucky, come on, James.”
Bucky ‘s hips stutter for a moment before he picks up again, leaning back and thrusting in quick, sharp snaps. He keeps moving for a moment before suddenly releasing Clint’s cock and gripping his hips, pulling his ass up into the air a little more and sliding in deep. He circles his hips a few times, and Clint reaches for his cock desperately, stroking harshly a few times before spilling over his fingers with a harsh cry.
Bucky keeps moving over him, more erratic now, and it’s not long before he hisses something that Clint doesn’t quite catch and slumps down. He catches himself on his cybernetic arm, his face inches from Clint’s. Clint looks up at him, a lazy smile spreading over his face.
“Not bad,” he says, or tries to. It comes out more slurred than anything else.
Bucky’s returning grin is pointed as he leans in to speak directly into Clint’s ear. “Size ain’t important, pal,” he murmurs. “It’s what you do with what you’ve got.”
Clint watches, dumbfounded, as Bucky pulls out and ties off the condom and picks up his clothes. He doesn’t bother putting them on, but he pauses at the door and looks back, hand on the knob. “I’d be up for doing this again, if you’d like more proof,” he says casually, and then he opens the door and walks out of the room.
Clint can only stare at the door as it shuts behind him.
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