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“Alright, guys, I know it’s early. Stay alert, stay safe,” Steve eyed Clint, in all his sleepy blonde professional dumbass-ness. “And we’ll be home by lunchtime.”
“Wilson and I are they key players today. I’m going in and taking out the target, Wilson’s on watch, calling out interference before they get within shooting range,” Natasha added, tying her hair up into a tight ponytail as she spoke. Her black scrunchie matched her black leather field uniform, and her mere presence was commanding enough that everyone gave her full attention as she spoke.
“Do you want the left or right sector?” Bucky asked Clint, the two of them falling a few paces behind the group as they began walking towards the laboratory. The building was innocuous, just a small barn in the middle of the forest. Any cameras surveilling the area had been disabled, thanks to Natasha.
Bucky’s hands were in a constant state of motion, checking the straps affixing the large gun to his body, feeling for the knives that were sheathed at his hips and thighs. The nervous energy was coming off of him in waves, frenetic and focused all at once.
“I want a fucking coffee,” Clint groaned. 8 A.M. missions were not his thing. He didn’t join the military or get a desk job for a reason.
“Suit yourself.”
Bucky slipped into the tree line up ahead to the left, his silent and practiced movements as easy as breathing to him. Clint huffed and took the other side of the trees. He could be stealthy. He could be so stealthy.
Clint set about climbing a tree, awkwardly shimmying up the trunk thanks to the bow and quiver strapped to his back limiting his range of motion. He settled comfortably on a branch about fifteen feet up, drawing his weapon and finding his line of sight through the foliage.
Sam took to the skies, the mechanical whoosh of his flight suit breaking the pensive silence. Clint could see him if he looked straight up, hovering above the clearing, weapons at the ready.
“Everyone in position? No signs of enemy activity,” Steve’s voice crackled over the comms device affixed to Clint’s collar. “I’m sending Nat in now. Facility has minimal security.”
“No sign of anyone from up here. The infrared isn't picking anything up either, do you think they’re underground?” Sam asked. The deafening sound of wind rushed through the tiny speaker as he spoke, threatening to overpower his words.
“I’m almost certain they are. Either way, I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve,” Natasha replied.
Clint sighed deeply, breathing in the calming scent of pine trees and outdoors. There was still dew on the ground beneath him, it was that fucking early.
Natasha had a bad habit of failing to disclose all aspects of her plan; she got it from Fury.
“What do you mean by that?” Bucky questioned lowly.
“Don’t worry.”
“Nat,” Steve groaned. Clint couldn’t tell if he sounded more annoyed or angry, but he knew both emotions came from a place of deep care for her safety. Steve cared for everyone’s safety but his own, and it was so ridiculously endearing that sometimes Clint found himself falling just a little in love with him.
The sound of a small explosion sent chills down his spine and nausea rolling through his stomach. He nocked an arrow, looking around wildly for the source of the noise.
“What the hell?” Bucky growled. Clint could see him clearly in his mind's eye, probably stood halfway behind a tree with his gun cocked, squinting through the scope. They were both looking everywhere for the bad guys, but…
“I don’t see anything. Where did that come from?” Sam was flying in circles now, making a wider loop than before to try to locate the source of the noise.
Nat was considerably quieter now, the mic barely detecting her voice. “That was me. How else was I gonna bust through six inches of concrete?”
“Tricks up your sleeve means bombs?” Steve asked in dismay.
“Bomb. Singular. I don’t have any more.”
Clint shifted a bit, securing his grip. If he spoke, it would be to complain that he was up a tree while Natasha got to blow stuff up. Totally not fair. Better to keep his mouth shut than face one of Steve’s “everyone on this team plays to their strengths, we’re not taking risks when the stakes are already life or death” rants.
“Any other tricks up your sleeve we should know about?” Sam grumbled, the whipping of wind coming so loud this time that it sent feedback from Clint’s hearing aid whistling through his brain, breaking his focus momentarily. He winced, reaching for the branch above him to steady himself.
Everything went silent for a moment. No reply from Natasha.
“Is that a yes?” Clint asked. Still nothing. He could hear himself speak, so it wasn’t his hearing aid malfunctioning again.
“Give her a second. I don’t hear anything from inside. Everything all clear, Sam?” Steve checked. Even with suboptimal sound quality, he couldn’t hide the worry coloring his voice.
“All clear, Cap.”
A few more moments passed in silence, save for the wind rustling through the trees. Clint affixed his eyes to the entrance of the barn where Steve stood watch, holding his shield at ready.
“I’m moving in, closer to the perimeter of the building.”
“Bucky, no.”
“Buck…”
Sam and Steve both protested, but the comms went quiet after that.
Clint’s stomach churned with anxiety. He itched to climb down the tree, to storm into the building and lay waste to anyone within. To throw Natasha over one shoulder and Bucky over the other and carry them home safely.
He didn’t have to linger over these emotions for long, however, before he took a bullet to the chest.
Thanks to his bulletproof vest, the shot did little more than knock him off of his balance. It was forceful enough to send him tumbling out of the tree, grasping at branches that scraped up his hands as they slipped through his grasp. Just before he hit the ground, he curled in on himself, rolling across the forest floor and into the clearing. His hearing aid screeched with feedback, and he swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to rip it out.
A small group of masked assailants were firing their pistols blindly into the forest and up at the sky, the barrage of bullets missing Sam as he maneuvered easily out of range.
“Shit!” Clint scrambled for his bow, fallen on the ground just a few feet from him, and nocked arrow after arrow, taking out the gunners one by one as they were distracted trying to shoot at Sam. His hands only began trembling when he realized that Steve wasn’t in front of the barn where he had been moments ago, nor was he anywhere to be found in the fray.
The last bad guy standing got lucky, landing a bullet in the wing of Sam’s flight suit. Clint watched on in horror as he dipped towards the ground, the machine struggling to compensate. He put an arrow clean through the man’s neck, listening in satisfaction to the gurgling death cries.
“I’m okay, just had to activate the emergency thrusters. Motherfucker hit the main power source. Stay out here with Steve, I’m gonna do an aerial sweep and make sure Barnes and Natasha didn’t go anywhere.”
“Sam,”
“What?”
“Steve is gone.”
“Where’d he go?” Sam finally descended, swooping down to hover just above the ground next to Clint.
“I don’t know. He was here a second ago, and then everyone started shooting, and he’s gone.”
“Steve, Barnes, Natasha, do you copy?” Sam asked into the communication device affixed to his collar.
Clint gathered his arrows from the corpses of the enemies as Sam made futile attempts to contact the rest of the team. He felt strangely calm, nerves settled and senses sharpened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had every intention of gathering his weapons, regrouping, and then storming the lab to go get his friends out.
“We need to call for backup,” Wilson said finally, practically vibrating with nervous energy. He was the antithesis of Clint in this moment, overtly anxious and clearly full of reservations about going in to save everyone themselves. That was fine. Clint was going with or without him.
“Call who for backup? Stark’s halfway across the world, so is Wanda. Thor isn’t even in this world. We don’t exactly have Doctor Strange on speed dial or anything. Are we gonna pull the Spider-Kid out of math class? He’d probably need a ride,” Clint snorted.
Sam was visibly fuming at his words. Because he was right, of course. This mission should’ve been easy for the five of them. But now they were down to two, and Sam’s mission-typical demeanor of calm slipped as soon as he realized that Steve was gone.
A blood curdling scream came from just within the building, sending panic sparking between the two of them as they met each other’s gaze. It sounded like a woman’s scream, like the sound of life being forcefully clawed from someone’s body. In all their years Clint had never heard Natasha scream like that.
It couldn’t be her.
Before they had time to speak, Sam was wrapping his arms around Clint’s waist, scooping him up whilst flying full speed towards the open barn doors. It knocked the air straight out of Clint’s lungs, being held up off the ground and flown full speed into battle. In the position that he was being held in, Clint struggled to pull an arrow from his quiver, barely getting it nocked as they burst through the door.
The barn was empty; nothing but a run of the mill, abandoned building, save for the giant hole in the otherwise innocuous concrete slab near the back wall.
Sam dropped him and he hit the ground running, jumping into the hole without a second glance. Luckily, the fall was only about six feet. He landed on his feet with bent knees, barely stopping to absorb the impact or to take in the scene before him.
He was in a dimly lit hallway, grimy yellow bulbs flickering overhead. Without the daylight pouring in from just above him, the place would have been near-dark. It smelled of chemicals and blood. There were a few dead bodies littering the concrete floor, some in states of collapse halfway out of the heavy doors that lined the hall.
“Get him, we need to get out of here-“
“Ya v poryadke, Natal'ya.”
“Just in case, c’mere.”
Clint heard Nat, then Bucky, then Steve speaking in turn, their voices coming from the last door on the right. He picked his way around the fallen bad guys, making little effort not to desecrate any corpses, to go to them.
“Did you find them? What’s going on down there?” Sam shouted from surface level, sticking his head down the crater as much as the wings affixed to his back would allow.
“I hear them, just keep watch,” he replied, scanning each room he passed for any potential assailants. His teammates had left no survivors.
“Clint?” Natasha raised her eyebrows in mild surprise as he burst through the cracked door that their voices had come from. She was covered in fresh blood, practically dripping. Her fair skin glistened with it; droplets spattered across her face like macabre freckles. Despite it all, her eyeliner was perfectly intact. Not one smudge. He wanted to run to her.
Bucky was leaning on Steve in a disconcertingly vulnerable manner, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Steve was all but holding him up with an arm around his waist. Both of their breaths were labored, but despite it all, they both appeared unharmed.
“What…what happened down here?”
“I got into a skirmish, there were a few more evil scientists than we thought. Barnes followed me down here, this guy,” Natasha kicked the dead body at her feet that Clint hadn’t even perceived previously. “Recognized him. Knew the old trigger words.”
“Jesus,” Clint swore under his breath, eyeing Bucky once again.
“I’m okay, don’t throw me a pity party,” Bucky piped up, despite his obvious state of distress. “They don’t work anymore, it’s just…flashbacks I guess.”
“Where’s Sam?” asked Steve.
“Up in the barn. He’s okay. We got attacked too, but I think everyone’s dead. And hopefully no one else is coming.”
“Let’s get out of here, then,” Nat said as she reached down to pull one of her knives from the man at her feet’s chest.
“Are you okay? You’re covered in blood.” Clint took a hesitant step towards her.
“Not mine. I got thrown into a case of blood samples,” she laughed. “I also had to stab a couple guys to death. Ran out of ammo. It’s gruesome work.”
“Right,” he sighed in relief.
The four of them made their way back down the hallway, taking turns boosting each other up and back out onto the ground level. Steve went last, jumping three feet in the air like it was nothing and pulling himself out of the concrete chamber.
---
After the necessary assurances that everyone was alright and a short debrief detailing exactly how many operatives had been killed, (speculation about their Hydra ties would likely come up later, Clint had no idea they were going up against those slithery fuckers), the short jet ride home was pretty quiet. Steve put headphones on Bucky, the bulky kind from the 80’s, and him let lean up against his shoulder. Clint felt a tiny twinge of jealously. He wanted to help Bucky feel safe too, to hold him and ground him and reassure him. It wasn’t fair of them to exploit his trauma like that. Why didn’t the bad guys ever play fair?
“Welcome home,” Friday, Stark’s AI, greeted them as they walked through the doors of the compound. No one else was in town at the moment, meaning that the five of them had the place to themselves. Despite the rare opportunity to spread out to their own corners of the building, they all flopped down onto various pieces of furniture in the large living area, existing together in silence as they were finally able to breathe after that chaotic mission.
This is nice, thought Clint from where he lay face down on the large ottoman. He wasn’t ready to be alone yet, to go shower and try to disperse his adrenaline enough to go back to sleep. It was only noon, after all. There was plenty of time left to veg out.
“Oh shit,” Sam muttered from his spot in the armchair across the room.
Clint didn’t think much of it, figured he was talking to himself. He didn’t lift his head. The velvet upholstery was soft underneath his cheek, providing a concrete sensation to latch onto as he brought himself down from the hyper-aware state that the mission had put him in.
“Nat, d’you want some privacy?” Steve asked a moment later, voice low and almost hesitant. He and Bucky were on one side of the couch behind Clint, and Natasha was on the other. Clint could hear her shifting around.
“I’ve never been one for privacy. You can gawk if you want, Rogers, I don’t mind.”
Clint’s heart skipped a beat. That was enough to make him slowly raise his head, propping himself up on his elbows and craning his neck to see behind him.
Natasha Romanoff was in a black sports bra, working on wriggling out of her pants, sullied shirt tossed carelessly onto the carpet. Clint held his breath as she peeled the pants off, throwing it on the floor to join the shirt. She let her legs spread a bit, sitting comfortably. Everyone in the room was getting an eyeful of her panties right now, and she looked like a cat that had just eaten a canary.
Clint put his head back down. There were already too many hormones coursing through his veins for this. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he looked for too long. The image lingered in his head nevertheless, the silky black fabric stretched tight against her vulva. He swallowed hard as he imagined pressing his face between her legs, mouthing at the soft material, pressing kisses in the hollows of her thighs.
“Don’t worry about it, Wilson, I know how it is. But my clothes were gross, I’d hate to get Stark's expensive ass couch all dirty.”
Clint could hear the smirk in Nat’s voice. He picked up his head just the tiniest bit, glancing up at Sam in front of him. The two of them made eye contact before Clint’s gaze dropped to the obvious tent in Sam’s pants.
The tension in the room was palpable, but nobody moved. Clint put his head back down and willed away his own erection.
“Are you feeling better, Bucky?” Sam asked, tone measured and casual.
“Yup. Just…hate being taken advantage of like that, y’know? It makes me feel weak. I should’ve been able to hold my own back there, but then that bastard opened his mouth and the next thing I knew Steve was running in to save me.”
“Hey, I was there too!” Nat objected playfully. “I stabbed him eleven times, let’s give credit where credit is due.”
“You were amazing, 'Tasha,” Steve agreed. His voice was coming out almost…strained. God, not him too.
Clint sat up, affixing his gaze stubbornly to the wall.
“I’m going to get a snack. Anyone need anything?”
There was a chorus of “no, thank you,” and he padded into the kitchen, managing to make it through the room without getting another eyeful of anyone’s boner.
Clint stood in front of the open fridge, letting the artificially chilled air soothe his skin even as his internal temperature rose steadily. He could hear movement, and voices from the other room. Maybe everyone was dispersing, going to hit the showers and chill the fuck out.
He secretly hoped that wasn’t the case.
After a couple long minutes examining the contents of the fridge, which were entirely unchanged from what they had been the previous night, he pulled a handful of grapes off of the bunch and proceeded slowly back into the living room.
Clint stopped dead in his tracks between the kitchen and the living room, one foot on tile, one on carpet. He nearly dropped his grapes.
Sam had taken his shirt off and joined the other three on the couch, slotted in between Natasha and Bucky. Clint had seen Sam shirtless before, but not in this context. Previously, he had been able to keep his impure thoughts about Sam’s pecs at bay.
Sam’s hand rested casually on Bucky’s thigh. He was whispering something to him, something that was making Bucky’s eyes go soft, all that blue ice melting into puddles.
Clint told himself to shake it off, to act normal, and shoved four grapes in his mouth at once. He came to sit cross-legged on the ottoman this time, facing his friends on the couch. Steve leaned forward, into his personal space, warm breath filling the inches in between them.
“Can I have one?”
“You said you didn’t want anything.”
“Just one.”
“Fine,” Clint huffed, reaching out to place a grape directly between Steve’s parted lips.
Steve’s eyes widened a bit as he chewed on the grape, never breaking eye contact or leaning back against the couch. Clint felt himself flushing red all over again as his gaze lingered over Steve’s pink mouth, lips all moist with saliva.
“Hey,” Steve started quietly, eyes darting to the floor. “You did good today, too. It’s nice to know you were coming to save our asses if we would’ve needed it.”
The praise washed over Clint’s mind like the lilting melody of wind chimes, pleasant and soothing. He couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face.
“Of course, Steve. I would do anything for…for any one of you."
Sap. He was a hopeless sap. But Steve was in his bubble, and having pretty men in his personal space did things to Clint.
“May I kiss you?”
Steve’s question didn’t take Clint by surprise. It probably should have, but it seemed like the natural continuation of this conversation.
Clint nodded wordlessly and closed his eyes.
He’d be lying to himself if he pretended that he’d never imagined this before. The real thing surpassed even his most decadent fantasies. Steve’s lips were plump and soft and sweet from the grapes that they’d both been eating. He suckled on Clint’s bottom lip for a moment, sending sparks of arousal shooting through Clint’s body, before pulling away. Now both their faces were red.
“Oh…” Bucky gasped softly. Clint looked up at him and winced.
“Sorry,” he apologized instinctively. He didn’t know the ins and outs of Steve and Bucky’s relationship, but he knew that they had been very close since…the dinosaur times, basically. In hindsight, kissing Steve in front of Bucky sort of felt like an overstep.
“No, it’s okay, that was…I liked it,” Bucky confessed, pressing his lips together as hints of a smile played across his face.
“Your turn,” Steve murmured, leaning into Bucky, who sighed happily as they shared a brief but passionate kiss.
Fuck, they were beautiful.
Natasha and Sam watched on in interest. Clint watched Nat shift a little, spreading her legs centimeters wider. The space between them was tantalizing, inviting, even. Clint’s pants were growing uncomfortably tight.
He ate the last two grapes, lukewarm from being gripped in his hand, uncrossed his legs, and then recrossed them, as if everyone in this room wasn’t embarrassingly aroused. Even Bucky had a boner now, blue eyes widening with each passing moment as Sam rubbed up his thigh, strong hands kneading at the flesh like it was his job.
“Are you gonna join us on the couch, or do you prefer straight up voyeurism? No judgement either way,” there was a teasing edge to Natasha’s voice despite the sincerity of her words. He wondered if this was her plan, if all the sexual tension within their team wasn’t just in his head.
“No, I want…but…”
Clint’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he tried and failed to speak. Everyone was looking at him and the situation was overwhelmingly erotic and humiliating. He had never done anything like this before, especially not with his coworkers. But they weren’t just coworkers. From day one there had always been more to it.
“Use your words, Barton,” Nat chided gently.
He shuddered, overcome by the desire that her voice incited within him.
“There’s no room on the couch for me.”
“Right here,” she replied, patting her bare legs.
Clint felt dizzy as he stood up, all the blood rushing from his head. He was in front of her in two steps, climbing into her lap, awkwardly straddling her and folding his legs under himself. It was impossible to find purchase in the squishy couch cushion, impossible to put any space between his clothed erection and her panties. She placed her hands on his hips, holding him down against her.
“Hi,” she smiled sweetly, looking up at him.
“Hi,” he whispered back.
Natasha started touching him then, delicate fingers ghosting up and down his arms, leaving goosebumps in her wake. When she made her way up under his shirt and pulled it over his head, he felt his eyes go unfocused, hazy mind overcome with the need to be good for her, to bend to her every whim.
He was vaguely aware of everyone else shifting around him, of Bucky laying back against the arm of the couch and being undressed by Steve and Sam. Even as Natasha kept running her hands along the planes of his bare chest, murmuring something in Russian that he didn’t quite understand, he found his gaze straying over to Bucky, distracted by the little gasps and whimpers he made as he was touched in a similar manner.
“Guys,” Sam spoke up breathlessly, causing everyone in the room to stop what they were doing and look at him. “If we’re gonna do this…is everyone sure that they want to do this? I sure as hell am.”
“Me too,” Steve was quick to voice.
Natasha hummed her agreement, shifting beneath him just a bit.
“Yeah, I’m sure. But can I just say…” Bucky pushed himself up onto his elbows, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and looking up at everyone through his eyelashes. “I don’t like…I’m not okay with being hit. Biting or scratching or hair pulling is okay, just please don’t hit me.”
“Of course, Buck,” Steve was first to vocalize his agreement. Everyone else followed, murmurs of “you’re safe with us,” and “I respect that” filling the room.
“Good job drawing that boundary, thank you for telling us. Clint? Are you down to be part of this?” Sam prodded.
Clint made several attempts to swallow down the nervous lump that had taken up residence in his throat before giving up and just nodding.
“Say it, I need to hear a yes,” Sam’s tone was just this side of commanding, and it made Clint feel weak all over again.
“Yes. I want this.”
“Good job using your words,” Sam’s gravelly voice was in his ear now, having moved from his spot on the couch to kneel on the carpet at Nat's feet. Strong arms snaked around his torso from behind, pulling him flush against the heat of his bare chest. A whine escaped Clint’s lips.
Bucky clambered off the couch, limbs uncoordinated and awkward as he moved to the floor. His face and erection were flushed the same deep crimson as everyone watched him, four pairs of eyes gazing lustily at his body.
He was all muscle. Toned thighs connected to his torso by the deep lines of his obliques, abs and chest that looked as if they were chiseled out of marble or some other precious material. His right arm could probably throw Clint across the room, while the prosthesis connected to his body by scar tissue and the pain of old wounds could probably toss him across the city like a rag doll. Clint felt exceptionally weak in comparison. However, there was something about watching the man who possessed all this raw power sink to his knees between Steve’s legs and fumble with the closure of his pants that excited Clint.
“So eager,” Sam praised, reaching over and combing his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair. His right arm remained firm around Clint’s waist, effectively holding him still.
Clint found himself a little hung up on the sheer size of Steve’s cock as Bucky withdrew it. Just the thought of letting Steve fuck him, of stretching around the impressive girth and feeling him pushing impossibly deeper, had Clint unwillingly clenching his thighs around Natasha’s hips.
Nat followed his gaze, wolf-whistling lasciviously at the sight.
“Shut up,” Steve flushed. “It wasn’t always like this. The serum…”
Natasha leaned over and took Steve's jaw roughly in her slender fingers, pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth.
“You shut up,” she retorted. “Shlyukha, stand up.”
Clint didn’t know Russian, but he could only assume that the phrase was a term of endearment by the gentle lilt of Nat’s voice, and the way that Bucky complied immediately, wide-eyed gaze darting back and forth between her, Clint, and Sam.
“Mmm, so pretty,” she hummed. “Clint, you wanna take these off, love? Get more comfortable?”
As she spoke, she palmed his erection, the pressure faint through the thick material of his pants.
Clint nodded hurriedly, not wanting to be the last one undressed. He tucked the balls of his feet underneath himself, half-standing over Natasha as he awkwardly yanked down his pants and boxers, leaving them pooled around his calves before settling back down. Sam loosened his grip momentarily, allowing the movement, before holding Clint close again, fingers running absentmindedly across the indentations of his lower back.
Steve was reaching over, then, pushing impossibly closer against their warm bodies, large hands wrapping around Clint’s wrists and guiding them across Natasha’s body, urging him without words to touch her waist, her stomach, the tops of her upper thighs. She only smirked, head tipping back ever-so-slightly as she let Steve work.
Her skin was pale and smooth, the texture only disrupted by a few scars across her abdomen. Clint’s cock was practically leaking, standing up against his stomach as Steve used his hands as a tool for Natasha’s pleasure. He liked being controlled like this, being puppeteered and used as a tool to fulfill everyone else’s fantasies. And he lived for the praise that typically came with his compliance, though Steve was strangely silent.
A glance up at him revealed that he was staring intently at Bucky, who had settled onto his knees in the middle of the living room floor, just a few feet away from the couch. Bucky was just watching the events as they unfolded, jaw and brow soft for once and lips slightly parted.
“Take Nat’s tits out,” Steve instructed finally, voice low. It reminded Clint of how he got on missions, bossing everyone around with a firm authority about him that he didn’t possess outside of work. It sent a little thrill through Clint to know that Steve brought the Captain America persona into bed with him.
“Can I…?” Clint whispered, fingers ghosting reverently over the elastic band of Nat’s bra. He considered himself to be a tits man, and her breasts had occupied more of his mental space than he cared to admit in the time that he’d known her. The possibility of getting to touch, to lick and suck and bite, sent a thrill down his spine.
“Go ahead.”
He tugged the sports bra up and over her breasts, stretching the tight fabric to remove it gently, never letting it snap against her supple skin. She rewarded him with a sweet smile as she raised her arms, allowing him to pull the bra over her head. He froze with it still clutched in his hand, staring.
“Oh God,” Sam gasped from behind him, breath hot against the curve of Clint’s spine.
“Everyone else in this room has gorgeous chests, no need to lose your shit over mine,” Natasha laughed, bringing her hands to Clint’s hips once again, grazing the sensitive bumps of his pelvic bones. She used her grasp to shift him backwards, off of her, and he let himself fall backwards into Sam’s grasp. He was grateful for it; the taut material of his pants pooled around his calves and held his ankles together, not allowing for much independent movement.
“I got you,” Sam murmured, pulling him into his lap and easily freeing Clint’s legs, setting the pants aside. His hands came around to grip Clint’s thighs, unceremoniously tugging them apart. “D’you want me to touch you?”
“Please,” Clint gasped, pressing himself back against Sam and feeling his erection against his tailbone. Steve was on Nat now, and from his spot on the ground Clint couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but her soft gasps were filling the room with tense desire.
“Do you, now? Are you sure?”
“Yes, please.”
“I know this might be a lot for you…”
It was then that it dawned on Clint that Sam wasn’t just double-checking for consent; he was teasing him. The realization made him whimper, once again rutting his hips downwards in frustration. Sam squeezed up and down his inner thighs, leaving the flesh heated and red beneath his grasp.
“You’re doing good, keep being good,” Sam whispered. “Lean back against my chest now, I wanna kiss you.”
Clint obeyed, arching his neck to rest his head on Sam’s broad shoulder and turning his face, expecting a kiss on his mouth, but no, there were hot lips and tongue and day-old stubble against the sensitive skin of his neck, drawing a soft groan from his throat. Sam’s kisses were open-mouthed and sensual, leaving rivulets of drool along the side of Clint’s neck that trailed all the way around to his Adam’s apple.
“Turn around” Sam’s voice was in his ear, hot breath sending shivers up and down Clint’s spine. Clint didn’t think he’d ever flipped himself around so fast in his life, coming to straddle Sam’s lap. His breath hitched when he looked down at the sight of their cocks, practically pressed against each other.
Before Sam had a chance to do anything, however, Steve and Natasha joined them on the floor.
“Ryadom,” Nat said assertively in Bucky’s direction. Clint watched in fascination as Bucky flushed, cloudy eyes clearing into a sharp gaze as he awkwardly shuffled on his knees up to Natasha’s side. His erection bobbed with every movement, smacking against his own stomach.
“Clint, Buck, go ‘head and lay down on your backs.” Steve’s voice was softer, tinged with an almost desperate edge. Still, it was a command, and it meant that he might finally get to be touched where he needed it most.
Clint moved off of Sam and sank back against the velvet-pile carpeting. Bucky laid his head down just inches away, long hair fanning out and brushing across Clint’s cheek. It felt like butterfly kisses and Clint was nearly overcome with the urge to pull Bucky close, to sink into each other’s warmth as their three friends looked over their exposed bodies.
There was something to the specific brand of vulnerability that Clint in Bucky were sharing in that moment. They typically bickered with each other affectionately, relishing in the verbal lashes that they could throw at each other. In this moment, however, they were quiet and powerless and completely baring themselves, mind, body, and soul, to the others in the room.
Bucky reached out and grasped Clint’s hand, curling his fingers tight and feeling Clint reciprocate, running his thumb across the side of Bucky’s index finger.
Clint turned his head, burying his cheek in the carpeting, and scooted in just a couple inches so that he could kiss Bucky. Their lips met in a feverish haze, Bucky’s lips parting immediately, allowing generous space for Clint to slip his tongue in. Clint let out a heady moan as he felt Bucky’s teeth and tongue, senses overcome with the taste of his saliva.
Bucky rolled onto his side and wrapped his legs around Clint’s thigh, humping against him in small, jerky movements.
Clint’s leg grew slick with Bucky’s precum nearly immediately. The kiss was broken, and Bucky came away gasping for air, lashes fluttering as he got himself off.
Clint squeezed his hand. “Shh, shh, breathe.”
“You-you feel so good, fuck,” Bucky groaned, frantic and desperate and clinging onto Clint like a life preserver. Clint bent his leg just a bit, pressing his thigh into Bucky’s groin, biting his lip as he watched.
“Jesus, look at you two,” Steve groaned, kneeling up above them, watching on with his jaw practically hanging slack. Clint wouldn’t have been surprised if he started drooling. He wouldn’t mind it, either. Part of him wanted Steve’s slobber all over him. All of him wanted to slobber all over Steve.
Clint pushed himself up on one elbow, making sure to keep the lower half of his body still for Bucky’s use. While Steve was watching them Natasha had been stripped of her panties by Sam and was standing above him, back (and ass, holy shit, her ass) facing Clint. Sam was kissing on her thighs, teasing consistently higher and higher.
Bucky whimpered and nosed at Clint’s chest, drawing his attention away from the scene before him just as Sam pressed his mouth to Natasha’s folds, eliciting a startled gasp from her.
Clint murmured comforting nonsense once again, pressing chaste kisses to Bucky’s sweaty forehead, reaching around to brush his hair out of his face, pulling strands from his mouth. It was astonishing, the way that Bucky was coming undone without being touched, using nothing but the muscular expanse of Clint’s thigh to get himself off.
“Are you close, baby?” The pet name escaped Clint’s mouth without an ounce of forethought, but the way it made Bucky squirm against him had him saying it again, pressing his lips lightly against Bucky’s and whispering it in an intentionally sultry manner.
“It’s so much, f-feels so good, but I can’t,”
Clint frowned. Bucky’s broken cries tugged at his heart as well as his hard-on.
“Do you want my help?” Steve spoke up.
“Steve, Stevie, please,” Bucky whimpered, blue eyes flying open and gazing up to meet Steve’s.
“C’mere, then. ‘S probably hard to cum from humping Clint’s leg, huh? Why don’t you let me touch you?”
As he spoke, he was lifting Bucky with one arm beneath his shoulders and the other behind his knees, settling him back down so that he was lying mostly on top of Clint, arranging his limbs like one might a doll. Bucky, in all of his impressive musculature, was so weak with pleasure that he let himself be positioned without protest.
Steve spread Bucky’s legs, splaying them out on either side of Clint’s body, and positioned himself between Clint’s own parted thighs. When he reached down to touch, it wasn’t Bucky’s cock that he grabbed, but Clint’s.
Clint’s entire body tensed, muscles fighting against the deadweight that was Bucky’s body on top of him. Steve was stroking him, and it was dry and not particularly *good*, only teasing, really, but it still sent pleasure flooding through his lower stomach, spreading right down to the soles of his feet.
“Look at that, Buck, he’s so hard just from kissin’ you and letting you use his leg. You two are sinful,” Steve grabbed Bucky’s jaw with his free hand, using his grip to lift his head just a few inches off of Clint’s chest, leaning over for a deep kiss. Clint could hear it, could hear the way Bucky’s front teeth clacked against Steve’s as they pressed together hungrily, and it made his cock ache.
Steve withdrew from the kiss and moved his hand from Clint’s erection to Bucky’s, leaving the other hand to maintain the rough grasp that he had on Bucky’s face. Steve pressed his fingers into Bucky’s cheeks hard enough to leave bruises as he began jerking him off. The movements were quick, falling into an unrelenting pace allowed by the pre-cum that slicked Bucky’s cock. Clint’s wrists were sore just watching him.
Bucky writhed on top of Clint, his pitiful staccato moans filling the air. It made him shudder, hips lifting to grind against Bucky’s ass nearly unwillingly. There was nowhere in the world that he would rather be.
“Hold still, Clint,” Steve tutted, the flush in his cheeks spreading all the way down his neck. Watching him get heated even as he quite literally had two people writhing in his grasp was incredibly arousing. Clint’s mind was going absolutely liquid with the need to be good for Steve, to earn his approval and praise and maybe even get to touch him. He couldn’t even find it in himself to care if he left this encounter with blue balls- he’d be jacking off to this for the rest of his life.
“Fuck! Stevie-“ Bucky whimpered, arching off of Clint’s chest like he was possessed, entirely overcome with pleasure. Clint wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him down and running fingers across the jut of his pelvic bone in an attempt to be soothing. Or maybe it would rile him up more, maybe that was what Clint wanted. His cognition was running too slow to tell.
“Go ahead, darlin’, you can cum,” Steve practically groaned out his permission, his own cock flushed and leaking as he stroked Bucky through his orgasm. Clint rubbed his hand up and down Bucky’s side, feeling his ribs expand and contract under his touch, skin heated as he panted and trembled.
Steve reached for his own discarded shirt, using it to wipe the cum off of his hand and giving Bucky’s belly a cursory wipe-down.
Bucky rolled off of Clint then, allowing him to sit up and look around the room.
Nat was straddling Sam, riding him with a smirk on her face, though she had both stopped to watch the three of them. Sam’s forehead shone with sweat, face screwed up with pleasure. It was a sight to behold. Clint grew slightly jealous of Nat, cock aching. He hoped he’d be next to get fucked.
Natasha made eye contact with him and crooked a finger, beckoning him over. He scrambled to get his feet underneath him, nearly stumbling over as he stood.
“Nuh-uh-uh. Crawl,” She corrected.
Steve laughed, languidly stroking his own cock as he watched the exchange.
Even as Clint flushed with embarrassment, sinking down onto hands and knees like a damn animal, his stomach flipped over at her demand. The more he got bossed around, the stronger the urge to comply became. He wasn’t usually this submissive, he liked to bite back a little. But there was something about the commanding presence of his teammates that made him want to bend to their every whim, to let them mold him into whatever they needed in order to take pleasure from him.
“Good boy,” She hummed, using a gentle hand in his hair to pull him up to a kneel.
Clint whimpered, turning even more tomato red as the sound escaped his mouth.
“You like being good, huh?” Sam grinned from his place below Nat, slightly teasing.
“St-stop it, Wilson.”
“C’mere, sweet thing. It’s okay, I’m just playing.”
Natasha relinquished her hold on Clint’s hair, allow him to situate himself with his knees on the carpet on either side of Sam’s chest, back pressed up against Nat’s body.
He knelt down to kiss Sam, the kind of kiss that was two wide-open mouths locked together and exploratory tongues and drool down his chin. There was the faint but absolutely unmistakable taste of female arousal in his mouth, Natasha’s, and it spurred Clint on in his attempt to lick every crevice of Sam’s mouth. Sam’s low groans reverberated into Clint’s throat as Nat started dragging her hips up and down on his cock again. She dragged sharp nails across Clint’s back, using her grip on him to steady herself, and the feeling of his flesh giving way beneath her touch had Clint moaning, pulling away from the kiss in favor of resting his forehead against Sam’s. The two looked at each other, wide-eyed with an animalistic sort of arousal, aquamarine eyes gazing into brown so deep it was almost black.
“Go on, Buck, give Nat some kisses. You’re not done,” Clint heard Steve murmur, followed by the barely-there brush of Bucky’s hands and knees against the carpet as he crawled over to them.
“Bespoleznaya kukla, you looked so pretty making a mess all over Steve’s hand. Bet it felt so good, huh?”
Clint straightened at this, cock throbbing just listening to her croon at him. Bucky was kneeling on her right side, crystalline blue eyes going sort of hazy at what Clint could only assume to be praise.
“Yes, m’am,” He whispered, and Clint could’ve painted Sam’s muscular chest white right then and there.
Clint made eye contact with Steve, who was watching, touching his own cock as if in a trance. He was kneeling with his thighs pressed together, balls resting heavy against thick, golden thighs. Clint’s mouth watered at the sight, a disgusting string of drool finding its way past his parted lips and down his chin.
Nat allowed Bucky to start kissing her pale, freckled shoulders, and he quickly worked his way up her neck, nuzzling and licking against her throat. She switched from riding Sam’s cock to grinding down onto it, gasping softly as it filled her up. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head, jaw falling open at the change in pace. Clint leaned over once again to mouth sloppily at his lower lip, open-mouthed kisses making both of their faces wet with saliva.
Natasha’s hand was in Clint‘s hair again, rougher this time, yanking him up until he could feel the softness of her breasts against his back. He shuddered.
“You’re slobbering like a puppy, Clint, did you know that? Getting Sam’s face all messy, just like I did earlier. How’d I taste?” Her lips were on his ear, nipping and licking around his hearing aid between words.
“Good, s-so good. I want more,” Clint felt a bit bold requesting such a thing, cheeks heating at his own audacity, but he persisted. “I wanna taste for myself, let me taste you. Please.”
She hummed in his ear, the low and sultry sound making his cock twitch. When she lifted herself off of Sam, leaving him practically humping the air where her body used to be, Clint followed suit, coming to kneel at her feet.
“Vy znayete, chto delat,” Nat said in Bucky’s direction, nodding towards Sam.
Understanding flickered across his features as he nodded resolutely, crawling between Sam’s legs, resting his elbows on either side of the hips that rested just inches away from his face.
“Want some help?”
“Please, God, Bucky-“ Sam gasped as Bucky took the entirety of his length down his throat. Bucky held it there for a second before slipping it nearly all the way out, tongue playing across the tip. The way that it was coated in drool had Clint transfixed, watching the exact points where Bucky’s mouth made contact with it as he kissed and licked it, teasing, worshiping.
Clint couldn’t be sure if he could decide between wanting to be Bucky or Sam in this situation.
“Ever eaten a woman out, Cap?”
Natasha’s voice snapped Clint out of it, forcing him to focus on her. She had moved to the couch, laying back with her legs spread, lazily rubbing a thumb over her clit. He nearly whined, devastated by how far he was from her. Five feet across the room was simply too much.
“Can’t say I have. Never too late to learn,” He replied, crossing the room in two strides, leaning over Nat with one hand bracing himself on the arm of the couch near her head.
She shifted, sitting up and away from him, narrowly avoiding his kiss. She tucked both knees up to her chest, toes curling over the edges of the couch cushion as she kept her knees apart, hips pushed forward. The position spread her folds ever-so-slightly, giving Clint a nice peek at the pink wetness that lay between them.
“Hey,” Steve practically pouted, which was an utterly ridiculous sight to behold. Typically, Clint would crack a joke about it, make fun of the beefy blonde’s expression mirroring that of a sleepy toddler, but he was too deep in a submissive headspace to dream of it. He wanted to be good, he would be good, he would make Steve and Nat and everyone else happy.
“Get on your knees, pretty boys,” Nat instructed, and even Steve turned a bit pink at that. They both obeyed, pressing close together, skin slipping against skin in an effort to both be in between her spread legs.
Nat leaned over to push her fingers into Clint’s mouth, using them like a wooden tongue depressor, like at the doctor’s office, forcing his jaw open and his tongue to loll out obscenely, warm and wet against his own chin.
She hummed, and Clint’s mind was still electric with the echo of “pretty boys.” Pretty, he was pretty, he was doing good.
Natasha used her grip on his jaw to pull him face-first into her pussy, mouth open wide, tongue heavy against her clit. Her scent and taste, so unique to her, deep and tangy, flooded his every sense. There was a small patch of coppery pubic hair on her vulva, but the rest was clean-shaven, velvety and smooth against his face as she moved her grip to his hair, tugging hard to direct his mouth to exactly where she needed it. His reward came in the form of her trembling beneath him, thighs shaking involuntarily as he used to angle to his advantage, thrusting his tongue as deeply within her entrance as he could possibly go, licking inside of her like he was starving, like bringing her muscles clenching around his tongue was the only thing that could satiate him.
She let him keep at it for a while, letting out soft, pleased noises that had Steve turning even pinker, blushing all the way down his neck as he mouthed at her silken thighs, eagerly awaiting his turn.
Her grip on Clint’s hair become vice-like, strong fingers holding as much of the longer part in the front as she could, burying her fingers within it and tugging him away, out of the throbbing heat between her legs.
The painful sensation rid him of any rational thought, causing fireworks to erupt behind his closed eyes and in his lower belly, where pleasure like he’d never felt before had built up and despite barely being touched throughout this whole encounter, if Nat kept moaning and pulling on his hair like that he might just cum anyway.
“You ready to try? That’s a hard act to follow,” She commented to Steve. Clint’s heart soared at the almost-praise.
Clint rested his face against her inner thigh, watching closely as Steve pressed kisses all over her labia, then awkwardly used his index and middle finger to spread them, pressing a chaste kiss to her clit.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Nat smirked, leaving her hand tightly wound in Clint’s hair, the constant pressure exerting a dull pain, just enough to feel her. “Use your tongue, try licking and sucking. Just make sure not to bite.”
“Yes m’am,” Steve replied, half-jokingly, before doubling down and sucking her whole clit into his mouth, nose pressing against her vulva.
Natasha gasped, eyes rolling back in her head as a sort of strangled yelp died halfway in her throat. Whatever Steve was doing, it was working.
“Get down there, Clint, fuck me with your tongue, just like before, so good…” She was pressing his head down, and he wasn’t sure how he could possibly find his own space between her thighs with Steve suckling into the wet heat so enthusiastically. He opted for twisting his neck at an impossible angle, Steve’s chin bumping against his temple every time either of them moved, but when he slid his tongue back inside of her and she groaned his name, pulsing and spilling arousal all over his lips, it was beyond worth it.
She had to pull Steve off of her as her shaking subsided, intense pleasure giving way to sore overstimulation.
“Hard act to follow, huh?” Steve goaded, even as his chin was slick with her wetness. Clint sat back on his heels and licked his own lips clean, reveling in the taste of her, the phantom sensation of velvety walls clenching around his tongue.
“Not bad, for a beginner,” She conceded.
All three of them turned their attention to the other side of the room as Sam let out a deep groan, thighs squeezing either side of Bucky’s head as he came down his throat with little mutters of “so good, so fuckin’ good.”
Bucky sat up and wiped his mouth on his flesh arm, lips particularly pink and swollen, almost bruised from the intensity at which he must have been sucking. They looked edible; Clint longed to kiss him again, especially if it meant Sam’s cum in his mouth.
“C’mere, ‘s about time someone paid attention to that hole of yours, huh?”
Clint was beyond caught off guard as Steve scooped him up bridal-style, holding him close against the warm muscle of his chest. It felt like all of the air had been stolen from his lungs as he was carried easily to the other side of the room, like he was some dainty wispy thing that weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. Clint knew he wasn’t heavy, but he wasn’t light either, and it took a second before his head stopped spinning enough to remember that Steve had super-strength.
Then his head was spinning again as he was being flipped upright effortlessly and pressed against the wall, cool plaster sending shivers through his entire body. Steve was holding him there with one hand beneath his armpit and one around his waist, precariously pinning him a few feet off the ground. Clint wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, exerting the muscles as he held on for dear life.
“Lube, please. Someone, find some,” Steve said over his shoulder, before turning back around and pressing his face into the crook of Clint’s neck, breathing in the smell of sweat and sex and anticipation.
Clint watched Bucky scramble to his feet and dart off unsteadily in the direction of his own room, trembling like a foal on fresh legs in an effort to comply. His attention was stolen then, by Steve’s teeth and tongue hot against his neck, then his collarbones, insistently taking him apart with the waves of sensation that the actions sent through his entire body.
Clint grappled at Steve’s shoulders, hands squeezing at thick muscle, groaning at the feeling of warm skin under his grasp. His hands wandered, fingertips smoothing over pronounced pecs and strawberry-pink nipples and rippling abs. Each muscle was so pronounced that Clint could’ve counted them as he explored every inch of golden skin with his fingers.
Bucky was back then, alerting Clint of his presence by placing both hands over Clint’s, stilling them where they lay on Steve’s hips, the dual sensations of cool metal and heated flesh sending a thrill up Clint’s spine where it arched off of the wall.
“You wanna help me get him ready, Buck?” Steve husked, turning his head towards Bucky, pressing a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy, you’re doing so good, you’re fucking amazing at this. ‘M so proud of you.”
Clint nearly whined, cock twitching just hearing those words come out of Steve’s mouth. He wondered what he could do to earn those words, to have sweet praise fill up his brain with the cotton candy haze that only reassurance could bring him.
Bucky went to coat the fingers of his right hand in lube, squeezing the bottle carefully with the metal one. Clint gulped.
“C-could you…maybe use the-the metal hand? To…you know…I wanna know what it feels like inside,” He blushed and stammered through the request, but it was well worth it when Steve laughed at him, and Bucky gave a little knowing smirk as he switched hands.
Steve set Clint back on the ground gently, letting him find his balance before putting a strong hand on the underside of his thigh and lifting it up, effectively spreading his ass as his leg was pressed against the wall at a ninety-degree angle. Thank god he’d been joining Nat for yoga.
The metal and the lube were cold as Bucky worked one finger inside of him, wiggling it around a bit. It was also less forgiving than flesh, taking a bit longer to get used to than it normally might. The second, then third finger were each a stretch, burning in a way that had delicious little “ah-ah-ah’s” falling from his lips.
“You ready? It’s…Steve’s big,” Bucky murmured, finally removing his fingers and crouching down to examine the state of Clint’s hole closely, pressing his thumb to the slightly-swollen ring of muscle.
“You know that from experience, don’t you?” Clint half-joked.
The look on both of their faces revealed that it was not, in fact, a joke.
“You two have been fucking this whole time? And I could’ve been in on that?” He asked incredulously.
Bucky shrugged, passing Steve the lube and rising gracefully to his feet.
“Shlyukha,” Natasha called, beckoning Bucky over with one crooked finger. Sam had joined her on the couch and she was lying halfway on his chest, scarlet curls fanned out across his chest.
Bucky rouged and sank to his knees, crawling across the carpet to kneel at her side. Submission and obedience came so naturally to him; he was *so good*, Clint couldn’t help but feel a bit incompetent.
Any and all insecurity dissipated, however, when Steve hooked both arms underneath Clint’s legs, hoisting him up against the wall once again, positioning him at eye level. The head of his cock teased against Clint’s hole, hard and slick with lube.
“Ready?”
“Y-yeah,”
“Are you sure?” Steve persisted, and Clint realized that for the second time today he was being teased.
“Yes, please, please, wanna get fucked,” Clint turned to begging in his desperation, breathing his words against Steve’s hair as he let his head loll, resting his face in coconut-scented golden waves.
Steve growled, low and hot against Clint’s skin, voice reverberating in Clint’s own throat as he pushed slowly inside.
The sensation was hot and tight and Clint sort of felt like his insides were being rearranged as Steve just kept going, deeper and impossibly deeper, until his slim hips were flush against his ass. He sighed, lashes fluttering in utter bliss, and readjusted his grip on Clint’s legs.
“You ready? D’you need a second?”
“N-no, you can go ahead.”
“If it hurts too bad, you’re gonna tell me, okay? This isn’t your first time, is it?”
It was a half-statement, half question, and Clint was dizzy at the thought of Steve assuming he’d been fucked before. He wondered if that was something that he’d actively considered before, if that was something that he spent his spare time thinking about.
“No,” Clint paused. “First time with someone this big, though.”
Steve chuckled and began thrusting, rolling his hips upward to fuck Clint sweet and slow.
Clint tossed his head back and moaned, pain crackling through his skull in what would undoubtedly be an egg-sized lump on his head within the hour.
Glancing down through his eyelashes, he saw that sweet, golden boy half-smile spread across Steve’s red face, eyes half lidded as he focused on keeping a steady pace, deep and sensual and not too fast as not to make it hurt. The enraptured look on his face and the fact that he was being gentle, taking his time and effort to make Clint feel good, sent a rush of mushy feelings through his chest that he knew wasn’t just hormonal.
“Steve…” Clint sucked in a deep breath, matching his dumb grin as the emotions made him weak. He didn’t know if he’d ever felt so goddamn connected to a partner during sex, and it was probably a little troublesome that Steve was his teammate, his partner, his friend, but…that was a problem for future Clint.
“What?” Steve stilled momentarily, meeting his eyes with kind concern.
“Am I…okay? Does it feel good?”
“Sweetheart-“ Steve leaned in, smiling into a quick kiss, “You’re so good. Feels fucking amazing. You like hearing how good you are, huh?”
Clint nodded earnestly, going utterly slack-jawed at the pet name and the praise. When Steve started moving again, each and every sensation felt heightened, like he was on the best drugs he’d ever taken, except it was just Steve’s body hot against his own and the delicious push and pull of his cock and the filthy words that fell freely from his mouth.
“Such a good boy, I fit just right inside you, huh?” Steve picked up the pace, filling the room with the lewd sound of skin slapping as his hips snapped against Clint’s ass. “You look so pretty getting fucked, y’know that?”
“Hhhhhhnngh,” Clint replied to the rhetorical questions, eyes unfocused and tongue practically numb. His short nails dug into Steve’s hips, leaving crescent marks as he grappled to get a good hold. His cock, pressed in between their two bodies, was leaking terribly, smearing clear slick all over his own flat stomach and Steve’s ridiculous abs.
Through dazed, half-lidded eyes, Clint saw that on the other side of the room, Bucky and Sam were each sucking on one of Nat’s tits, so entirely engrossed that they were hardly paying him and Steve any attention. Natasha, however, met his gaze with a smirk that went straight to his dick, fingers rubbing lazily at her clit. Her lack of a refractory period was insane.
Steve’s thrusts grew erratic as he took a half-step back from the wall, forcing Clint to tense his shoulders as only a few upper vertebrae remained resting against the solid surface. This, however, resulted in Steve holding Clint’s weight down onto his cock like some massively oversized fleshlight, fucking up into him as gravity threatened to send him crashing to the floor any second.
The change in angle sent every stroke brushing directly against Clint’s prostate, a sensation that he wasn’t actually sure he had ever achieved before, alone or with a partner.
The intense wash of pleasure from the inside of his body made his balls ache, desperate to be touched. Even more nonsensical moans escaped his mouth, mostly slurred variations of Steve’s name slipping out between labored breaths.
“You’re doing so good, I’m almost there. I’m gonna pull out, okay?” Steve groaned, red-faced with exertion.
“D-don’t-don’t pull out. I want it inside,” Clint was just as flushed, all the way to the tip of his cock at the mere anticipation of feeling Steve’s release inside of him.
“Are you sure?”
“‘M sure.”
Steve stepped forward, pinning Clint fully against the wall once more, and used his impossibly effortless grip on Clint’s thighs to push them as far up as they would go. God, Clint was gonna feel this in every single muscle tomorrow.
Using the newfound closeness to his advantage, Steve leaned in for a dizzyingly tender kiss, a stark contrast to the relentless thrusts that turned deep and slow as a delicious groan erupted from Steve’s throat and something warm was filling Clint up, dripping down his thighs when Steve finally pulled out, nearly-shaky in his movements.
Most embarrassingly of all, when Steve gently released his hold on Clint’s legs and set him down, they did nothing to hold Clint’s weight, sending him awkwardly tumbling to the ground, undoubtedly getting cum on the carpet. Oh well.
“Oh god, Clint, are you okay?” Steve knelt down and laid both hands on his thighs, expression quickly switching from post-orgasmic bliss to concern.
“Yup. That- that was on purpose. I meant to do that.”
Steve gave him another crooked smile, huge palms rubbing gently across the pale expanse of Clint’s legs, like it might steady him. The big idiot probably thought it would. It was sweet and soothing, at least. Clint was still a little dazed, teetering on the edge of full-bodied submission, of being liquid in Steve’s hands.
“You did real good, felt amazing,” Steve husked, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
Oh Christ, it was over for him.
“Steve-“ Clint whimpered, palming his own erection, which was as stiff and throbbing as ever.
“I know, shh, I know. Don’t you wanna give everyone else a chance, though?” Steve took hold of his wrist, gently settling his hand back at his side.
Clint nodded, feeling boneless and needy, and let Steve help him to his feet and place a warm, guiding arm around his waist, leading him back over to the couch.
Bucky and Sam had moved to the floor, straddling each other in a pile of muscles and limbs, sloppily making out. Sam’s hands were in Bucky’s long hair, tugging him around with fingers gripping near the roots, eliciting low moans from Bucky. Nat patted the spot next to her on the couch and let Clint cuddle up against her side for a moment as they watched Steve get himself involved in the pile on the floor, looking on lustfully as his hands went everywhere, feeling up both of them like he was a sculptor and they were his clay.
“You looked pretty, getting filled up with Steve’s cock. How was it?” Natasha asked, tone nonchalant as if asking about the weather.
“So good,” He sighed, nuzzling into the side of her breast, smelling sweat and traces of perfume and Natasha.
Just as he was getting comfy, she moved, swinging a leg across his lap to straddle his hips, smirking down at him.
“Yeah, I bet it was.”
“Nat,” He whined, grinding up against her with only a fraction of the desperation that he felt.
“Be still,” She ordered. “You were being good, and you’re going to keep being good for me.”
Her hands wandered his chest, thumbs rubbing at his nipples, sending shocks of sensation through his cock, the sort of overstimulating pleasure that made him tremble, tossing his head back against the couch, which was much more forgiving to his skull than the wall had been earlier.
Nat hummed and leaned down, soft red curls against his sensitive skin, and gave one of his nipples an experimental little bite, tugging it between her teeth.
“Please! God, god, please,” Clint cried, back arching as if his body couldn’t help but bow to her touch.
“More?” She looked up through long lashes, tone intentionally sweet and innocent.
“Pleasepleaseplease.”
She didn’t hesitate this time, pressing her mouth against his pec, sucking and biting and running her tongue across his chest, before repeating the treatment on the other side. It was so good that it *hurt*, making his breath come out labored and his legs shake, weak and useless beneath her weight. He wanted to touch her but didn’t know how without making her stop, and he thought he might die if she stopped.
But she did stop, straightening and licking her lips after what seemed like mere seconds but was likely much longer. Clint opened his eyes and once he was able to look past Nat’s tits, which were nearly at eye level, noticed that Steve, Sam, and Bucky had changed positions.
Sam was on all fours, stammering and explaining that he’d never done this before, clenching his teeth through Bucky pressing one well-lubed finger in his entrance. Not even a metal one. If Clint hadn’t been so far gone he would’ve teased him.
Steve was kneeling behind Bucky, holding his hair in one fisted hand, stroking his quickly hardening cock in the other while whispering something in his ear. By the faraway look in Bucky’s eyes, Clint could only assume that it was sweet praise, maybe instruction as to how to finger Sam.
Natasha‘s hand wandered down to Clint’s cock, delicate fingers wrapping around the shaft and squeezing it tight. Her strength never failed to surprise him, especially now, as her hand quickly became slick with his precum and he trembled with need.
She used her other hand to squeeze his balls, holding the sac in her palm and rolling them gently between her fingers.
Clint’s moans filled the air just as Sam’s panting became deep groans as well. A glance down at him revealed that he was now taking three of Bucky’s fingers and doing quite well with it. Clint felt a glimmer of pride for his friend losing his ass virginity.
Eyebrows raised in a silent sort of rebellion, Clint reached out and grabbed Nat’s breasts in both hands, touching them in a similar manner as how she had touched his just a moment ago.
This earned him another little knowing half-smirk and a squeeze to his balls that was hard enough as to hurt, cutting off his soft moaning with a yelp.
“Wh-what was that for?” He questioned innocently, putting a big pout on his face.
“You know what. Can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
He dipped his head in apology, letting his hands fall uselessly to his sides. Natasha climbed gracefully from his lap, just to sit back down on it, facing outwards this time, with her knees drawn up to her chest. Clint ached to reach around and touch her pussy, or to grab her by the waist and lower her down onto his cock, to feel the marvelous heat consume him.
“Nat-“
“Shh, love. Be patient. Look.”
Clint did look, resting his chin on her shoulder. Steve was lubing up Bucky’s cock now, talking both Bucky and Sam through everything in his Captain-America-voice.
“-both of your first times, I’m right here, just gotta trust me, I know what’s best.”
Sam snorted at this, earning him a sharp little smack on his ass. If anything, he looked even more amused and aroused at this.
“You just gotta stay up on your hands and knees, yeah?” Steve finished, kneading the heated flesh that he had just spanked.
“I think I can do that, Captain,” Sam sassed.
“You think that, ‘til Bucky’s in six inches deep.”
“Don’t worry, Steve, a good fuck will shut him up,” Natasha hummed, leaning forward slightly to take Sam’s jaw in her grasp. His eyes rolled back in his head, tough-guy-facade dropping immediately. “Bet you’re ready to get fucked, huh?”
“Ready,” He nodded resolutely. The nervous anticipation was coming off of him like pheromones, evident in the way that he curled his fingers into the soft carpet, trying to find his grip before the fucking even began.
Steve placed one hand on Bucky’s hip and the other on the back of his neck, holding him firmly in place.
“Go on ahead, Buck.”
Bucky shuddered at Steve’s touch and commanding tone as he lined himself up with Sam’s entrance. Clint wished that he could see it from here, wished he could see the way that Sam stretched around Bucky, hole slick with lube and swollen from being stretched out for the first time. Both of their facial expressions were more than enough, though.
Sam began to tremble, eyes wide and jaw hanging open in Natasha’s grasp. She forcefully shoved it shut, squishing his cheeks in the process. He looked indignant, but only wordless grumbles of protest were able to escape his lips.
“Go on, get it all the way inside. Feels good, huh? He’s so tight, bet he’s choking your cock,” Steve kept up the bossy dirty talking, pressing the words all hot and heavy against Bucky’s neck and jaw.
Bucky scrambled for a steadying grip on something, big blue eyes darting around like a spooked animal. His breath came out in desperate little pants as he closed the gap between his and Sam’s bodies. His hands found purchase in the tender flesh of Sam’s hips, blunt nails and too-strong titanium scratching and pulling and eliciting a low moan from deep in Sam’s throat.
Steve closed his hands around each of Bucky’s wrists, positioning him so that both arms were above his head and he was arched at a nearly inhuman angle, his hips against Sam’s ass being the only point of contact.
“I could do this for you, use your body like a toy to fuck him with, but I’m not gonna,” Steve’s words were punctuated with a strangled moan from Bucky as he started grinding deeper into Sam, each movement shaky and unsure. “You’re gonna give it to him yourself, this is all you.”
“Whenever you two are done with the mind games-“ Sam started, only to be quickly silenced by Nat’s fingers shoving into his open mouth, manicured nails experimentally scraping up the inside of his cheeks, his gums, his tongue.
Clint could’ve blown his load right then, watching the fight leave Sam’s body, eyes practically glazing over between Bucky’s slow thrusts and Natasha’s abuse to his mouth. Sam Wilson liked pain- who knew.
Before Clint could realize what was happening Natasha was moving, lifting her hips and reaching back to take Clint’s cock in her free hand.
“Nat, Nat, oh please-“ He breathed, leaning back against the cool leather of the couch, the only tangible sensation to hold onto as his hands flailed uselessly and Natasha lined him up with her entrance and sank down onto him.
Every single neuron in his body felt like it was on fire. His cock throbbed inside of her as she sighed and hummed, taking her time getting adjusted to it. In his fantasies, the ones that made his eyes roll back and his toes curl when he was alone in bed, he was always above her, pressing kisses to her mouth and neck and chest as this impossibly warm heat consumed him. This felt correct, though, the sensation that stemmed from his cock racing to overtake the furthest reaches of his nervous system. He felt like a human toy, entirely ignored by her as she rolled her hips in a steady rhythm, slick heat consuming his cock over and over.
Clint felt helpless to his own pleasure as it crept deeper, taking root in his lower stomach and leaving him helpless to his own impending orgasm. There was no holding off on it. If Natasha kept fucking him, he was going to come undone inside of her.
Even as Clint’s lashes fluttered and his grip on reality grew weaker, he was aware of the tears streaming down Bucky’s cheeks as his body was wracked with overstimulation, despite the slow and sensual pace that he set. Steve was still right behind him, an easy smile on his face as teasing hands roamed Bucky’s body, twisting his nipples and pressing down on his lower belly. Bucky looked seconds away from passing out, poor thing. Clint wondered if he’d really never topped anyone before.
Sam was panting and groaning, face inches away from Natasha’s cunt. She still had his jaw in her grasp. Clint felt it on his own cock when she pulled Sam close enough to press his mouth against her clit. Sam’s tongue and the soft noises of him getting fucked set off something of a chain reaction, sending shudders and involuntary twitches through Nat’s body. Clint had never felt so much overstimulating pleasure, had never had his cock enveloped in such a tight heat. Sam’s drool slicked the way as Nat continued to grind down onto Clint, one hand on Sam’s jaw and the other on the back of his skull, steadying herself.
“You’re getting sloppy, Buck. You’re fucking a person, not your fist,” Steve goaded.
Clint gripped the leather upholstery of the sofa, clinging on as if that would be the thing to delay his orgasm. Steve’s teasing and Bucky’s broken gasps and sobs were like kindling to the roaring flames in his belly, threatening to permeate his entire body and singe him to ashes with the blissful heat.
“Steve! Oh god, p-please,” Bucky’s movements stilled as Steve pushed into him without warning, taking him dry and rough. Steve’s hands found Bucky’s hips, pulling him back and forth in time with his own movements, using him as nothing but an extension of himself, a trembling toy to fuck Sam with.
Bucky slumped back against Steve’s chest, tensing up before shuddering through another orgasm, all short-lived, overstimulating relief, if the twisted-up look on his face was anything to go off of.
Steve kept on though, kept fucking Bucky and, as a by-product, fucking Sam with Bucky’s soft, twitching cock.
Sam pressed his tongue flat against Nat’s cunt, the tip teasing at the over-sensitive length of Clint’s cock each time she rose up off of it before quickly taking it back inside. The dual sensations had his legs shaking and vision going spotty, nothing but fireworks behind his eyes as he fought to keep them open, to take in the utterly pornographic scene before him.
“I’m boutta cum,” He whined, nosing at the perfect porcelain of Natasha’s shoulder, warm and covered with a sheen of sweat from exertion.
“Inside me, or in Sam’s mouth?” She asked, voice level and unperturbed.
Clint’s brain was not working fast enough to even process these two options.
“…H-h-huh?”
Sam moaned lowly, eyes shut as he continued to fervently eat Natasha out, despite the cum being fucked into his ass and the way that Bucky was now slumped over Sam’s back, pleading in slurred whispers, drool and tears coating the muscular back that he pressed his face into.
“You’re so fucked-out, hmm? Don’t worry about it, I just chose for you,” Nat was laughing at him, reaching behind herself to thread her fingers through Clint’s hair and tug, using the leverage to arch her back up off of his chest and ride him even harder, slamming her hips down onto his lap, pulling his hair harder with each stroke. He didn’t dare thrust up to meet her, as much as he wanted to. He did, however, press his mouth to the top of her shoulder, pressing desperate cries and feeble kisses into the skin.
He was far over the edge, screams tearing from his throat and scraping it raw before Natasha’s orgasm ever hit. The only indication of it was the clenching of her walls around him and the way she threw her head back against him, movements stilling as Clint filled her completely and Sam suckled at her clit.
Everything went white. His mind was empty but so full of white-hot pleasure, like someone had taken a torch to all the cotton candy fluff that previously occupied it. Nat kept squeezing around him for what felt like forever, sending overwhelming aftershocks of sensation from his cock to the rest of his body.
Eternities later, he felt her weight shift off of his lap, though his eyes were still closed. There was noise still, voices and moans and lots of shifting around him, but his labored breaths eclipsed everything, quick and heavy as his legs kept shaking and twitching.
Natasha settled in next to him, curling herself against the side of his body, not reaching out to touch, just sharing body heat in the afterglow.
Moments later there was weight on top of Clint, shaky bare flesh and cool titanium and whimpers. Bucky, trying to nestle in between him and Nat. Clint opened his eyes blearily for the first time since cumming so hard it felt like a star was going supernova in his balls. Poor guy looked so gone, clearly so deep in his headspace that he didn’t even realize there were still tears streaming down his face. Having that kind of fragility in his arms made him feel under qualified and dumb. Thank goodness for Nat, all husky whispers and grounding touch.
“Steve’s done with you, huh? It’s okay, you’re all done. Vse koncheno. Clint, lovely, hand me the blanket.”
He hurried to obey, twisting around to grab the fleece throw blanket that was thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch. He passed it to Natasha and watched her cup Bucky’s face in her hand, using the other to wipe away tears, letting the blanket absorb them.
“So good, vy khorosho spravilis’, are you alright? You know who I am, you know who you are?”
“Da, Natal’ya.”
The sound of skin slapping skin devolved into deep, animalistic groaning, and Clint looked up just in time to watch Sam cum all over the carpet, and if the way Steve was gasping was any indication, he was finishing deep inside of him, hips jerking and stuttering.
“Oh god, Sam,” Steve grunted, running a gentle hand down Sam’s spine as he pulled out. “Stay there, just for a second, I’m gonna clean you up.”
Nat smirked and tossed the blanket at Steve, who caught it out of midair and got to work. Clint could only hope that the blanket would find its way to the garbage can after it served its purpose as a cum rag.
Shortly after, Sam and Steve joined them on the couch, settling in on the opposite side of Clint from where Bucky and Nat were. Bucky reached out, flesh hand falling wordlessly on Clint’s lap. Clint took it and squeezed, hoping that Bucky felt as peaceful and surrounded by love as he did right now. Hell, he hoped that all of them did.
“You did real good, Clint,” Steve murmured, flashing a tired smile his way.
The praise made Clint feel fuzzy all over again, driving him to nuzzle into the crook of Sam’s neck, burying his face to hide the blush that colored his cheeks.
Strong arms wrapped around him, Sam’s, maybe Steve’s too, he couldn’t be sure. Bucky’s hair tickled Clint as he pressed up against his side, practically lying on his chest. Nat took Bucky and Clint’s joined hands in her own, bringing them to her lips, kissing their knuckles.
Clint was floating away on endorphins and warmth and the press of bodies against his own. It sounded fucking cheesy, but for once, there was absolutely nowhere he would rather be than with these people, in this moment.