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Bucky is standing behind Clint as he fumbles with his keys to unlock his apartment. Unable to wait any longer, Bucky presses himself against Clint's back, hugging him around the waist.
"Hold your fuckin horses Buck. I'm a mere mortal and I drank too much," Clint says with a wry grin.
He finally unlocks the door and they both stumble inside. Clint drops his keys on the counter as Bucky shuts the door. Leaning against the door, he grins at Clint.
"Good thing I'm gonna be the one railing you because you might not get your dick up from all that beer."
Clint flips Bucky the bird and turns to the fridge in the kitchen, opening it to search for his carton of orange juice. He takes a long pull from it, stray drops of juice trailing down from the corner of his mouth, along his jawline, and further down his neck. Bucky is frozen in the entryway, mouth suddenly dry. Clint’s eyes are closed, lost in the bliss of cold juice. Bucky steps quietly towards Clint and watches as his adam’s apple moves with every swallow. Bucky hasn’t been this hard since the fuckin’ forties.
Clint startles from his orange juice induced trance when Bucky licks the stray juice from his neck, up his jawline and finally to his mouth whereupon Clint fumbles to put the carton on the counter as Bucky surges forward to kiss the absolute bejesus out of Clint. Luckily, the fridge has swung shut, and Bucky practically slams Clint against it in his quest to lick all of the orange flavor out of Clint’s mouth.
Bucky runs his metal hand up under Clint’s shirt, tracing the grooves between Clint’s ribs, up his chest to twist his nipple.
Clint pulls away from the kiss to gasp out, “If I had known that that was what did for you I would’ve been drinking from the carton back at the Avenger’s compound.”
Bucky chuckles against Clint’s throat where he was trying to form a hickey. “Yeah, well, it probably wouldn’t have been good for my recovery to fall on my knees in front of Steve and everyone else.”
He pulls away from Clint’s neck, flesh hand trailing down his torso to rest on the button of Clint’s jeans. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Clint’s sudden stillness.
“That’s not something to be worried about?” Clint asks quietly.
Bucky furrows his brow, trying to figure out what he said wrong, both hands still. “You slut-shaming me, Barton?”
Clint seems to shrink in on himself, “No! Nononono. I meant, like…” He trails off, trying to find a delicate way to put it. “Like, that’s not a...Hydra thing?”
Bucky stills. He steps back from Clint, looks him up and down before nodding decisively. Looks Clint directly in the eye and says, “I’ve been suckin’ cock since I was 14, Clint. Hydra may have tried to humiliate me for being a fairy, but I’ve been proud of how fast I can get a guy to shoot down my throat since 1929.”
Clint swallows hard, throat clicking in the silence. “I don’t think we need to worry about my dick not getting up.”
Bucky looks down at his flesh hand to see that Clint’s jeans have tented in the front. He licks his lips, sinking to his knees in front of Clint. Lifting his head, he looks up at Clint through his eyelashes. He leans forward until his right cheek is pressed against Clint’s denim-clad erection, rubbing against it like a cat. Clint groans at the eye contact, and lifts his arm to put his hand on Bucky’s head, jerking it back, unsure if Bucky likes it or not. Bucky leans back to unbutton Clint’s jeans, before pulling the zipper down with his teeth. He pulls on Clint’s waistband, tugging his ridiculously tight jeans down past his ass, letting them bunch up around his thighs.
“Your boxers are fucking stupid, Barton.”
Clint snorts. “Yeah, but they’re comfy, and recognizable.”
The boxers in question are a pair of purple satin Hawkeye-branded shorts with little white bows and arrows all over them. They’re very short. Bucky shakes his head fondly and goes back to work. He shoves his nose into Clint’s crotch and sniffs hard, reveling in the clean musky scent of Clint. Bucky sits back on his heels, spreading his knees apart, and he reaches with his flesh hand to unbutton his jeans, metal hand still fucking with Clint’s nipples. Clint has let his head fall back against the fridge, cheeks flushed and eyes heavily lidded.
Bucky gets his dick fished out of his pants and jutting up into the air. He ignores it in favor of pulling Clint’s boxers down and finally getting his mouth on Clint for the first time. He savors the sensation of Clint in his mouth. The soft, velvety texture of his cockhead, to the heavy weight of the shaft of his dick. Saliva immediately begins to pool in his mouth, escaping out the corners as Bucky lets Clint just lay in his mouth. His eyes slip shut and he sighs through his nose in contentment. He can feel Clint trying not to thrust, little abortive jerks of his hips, barely moving his dick in Bucky’s mouth. Bucky can hear Clint’s heart jack-hammering in his chest. He can hear Clint trying not to whine.
Clint lets out a long groan, “Fuuuuuuck. You haven’t even done anything and I’m about to blow.”
Clint looks down at Bucky. Bucky’s on his knees, ass to his heels, knees spread out in presentation. His dick is leaking a steady stream of precum onto the floor, and the head is flushed, almost angry looking. Bucky opens his eyes to look up at Clint. He twists his tongue around Clint’s cock and hums in amusement when Clint chokes on air. Bucky pushes his hair out of his face and slides down Clint’s dick, until his nose is flush against Clint’s blond pubes. Clint gasps, fingers scrabbling against the fridge as he tries not to thrust into Bucky’s throat. Bucky grabs Clint’s hand and rests it on the back of his head. Clint gets the picture and digs his hands in, grabbing fistfuls of hair to hang onto. Bucky pulls back far enough that just the head of Clint’s cock is in his mouth, lips red and spit-shiny. Bucky tongues at it, even letting his teeth settle down a little before he pulls off with an obscene pop, a long strand of saliva connecting the cock to his lips.
The strand of saliva breaks when Clint takes a hold of his dick and slaps Bucky in the face with it, holding Bucky in place with a tight grip on his hair. Bucky whines, mouth dropping open with pure want, drool spilling out of his mouth, and onto the floor. Clint groans again, then in one smooth movement he slides his cock into Bucky’s mouth and pulls Bucky all the way down, ignoring when Bucky chokes at the sudden test of his gag reflex. Bucky heaves, then swallows hard to get back under control. He looks back up at Clint, eyeliner smeared from his eyes watering. Clint holds Bucky down a couple more moments before pulling him off by his hair.
“If you need me to stop, punch my thigh. Ok, Buck?” Clint says, waiting for Bucky to respond.
Bucky has to close his eyes while he figures out how to talk again. He licks his lips and says, voice ragged already, “Sure thing Clint. Punch you if I needa breathe.” He opens his eyes, which are still watery, and grins. “Now, you gonna fuck my face or just gonna stand there till your dick falls off?”
Clint’s eyes dilate impossibly wider. He grabs Bucky by the back of his neck and hauls him bodily up to his feet. Pulling Bucky into an aggressive kiss, all teeth and tongues, and no finesse, Clint starts walking Bucky backwards out of the kitchen. Clint nips at his lips, hand clamped tightly on Bucky’s neck, the other reaching down to fist his dick roughly. Bucky moans into Clint’s mouth, stumbling backwards as he’s overwhelmed by sensation. Clint catches his fall and spins them around so Bucky can see where they’re going. Clint doesn’t let up on the kiss, trailing kisses down Bucky’s neck as they cross the threshold of Clint’s bedroom.
Clint steps back to pull his shirt off, before sliding Bucky’s jacket off as well. Bucky crowds Clint further backwards until the bed hits the back of his knees. Taking advantage of Clint losing his balance Bucky pushes him onto the bed. Clint sits up, bracing with his elbows to watch as Bucky pulls his shirt over his head, pausing to untangle his dog tags from it. He slips the chain back over his head and shimmies out of his jeans. Clint wolf-whistles when he sees Bucky’s gone commando.
“Well, if I wasn’t slut-shaming earlier, I sure as fuck am now, Barnes.”
Bucky flips Clint off as he carefully folds his clothes and sets them in a neat pile at the foot of the bed.
“Future underwear fucking sucks.”
Bucky crawls onto the bed to straddle Clint, stark naked except for the dog tags around his neck. They clink gently as the chain sways between the two men. Bucky takes in Clint with a soft smile. Clint is relaxed, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners by his smile. He’s muscular, like all of the rest of the Avengers, but his is more of an acrobat’s build than a bruiser’s build.
Bucky traces one of his more prominent scars on the archer’s chest with his flesh hand, down his sternum, across his belly and his left hip. Bucky follows his hand with his tongue, smirking when Clint twitches at the sensation. Instead of following the scar to Clint’s back where Bucky knows it ends, based on their many shirtless sparring sessions, he heads further south to Clint’s groin. Clint’s dick is out, but he had apparently hitched his pants back up at some point because the waistband of his boxers have pressed it flat against Clint’s abdomen. Bucky hovers over it, hot breath ghosting over the flushed tip. Clint hisses, arching up against Bucky.
“C’mon Buck. Do. Something.”
Bucky pulls back, grinning when Clint whines, clearly that was the opposite of what he wanted. Scooting backwards, Bucky pulls down Clint’s jeans as he goes. Clint obliges and lifts his hips up to help, pushing his boxers down along with the jeans. Finally free of the jeans Clint moves further up the bed to get comfortable. Bucky tosses Clint’s pants in the direction of his closet, and climbs up onto the bed to chase after Clint.
“Aw, pants no.” Clint whines at Bucky.
“Shut up. It’s what you would have done anyway if I wasn’t here.”
Clint laughs, “Yeah, you're right.”
He pulls on Bucky, knocking his off-balance enough to pull him to his chest. Bucky lets out a breath and struggles to sit up. Clint doesn’t let him, holding Bucky against his chest harder, until Bucky stills.
“We haven’t gone over any kind of limits, Buck.” Clint says.
Bucky grimaces. “It’s kinda late for that now, right? It was just getting good.”
Clint rolls his eyes. “It’s never too late to do a boundary check, asshat.”
He lets go of Bucky to sit up, crossing his legs. He resolutely does not think about how ridiculous he must look with a raging boner in this position. Bucky follows suit, leaning against the headboard, and resting his arms on his head.
“Ok, so.” Clint starts as he shifts around to face Bucky, “I got a couple hard limits. No shit, no piss, no knives. I prefer the traffic light system for safe words: red, yellow, green. I’m not a fan of being blindfolded because I can’t read lips if my hearing aid dies. No hypnosis,” Pausing, he puts out a finger for each thing he lists off. “Oh yeah, and never, ever call me ‘Master’ or ‘Daddy’.”
Bucky nods, thoughtfully. “Are you ok with ‘Sir’?”
Clint nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. What about you?”
Bucky drops his hands to his lap, and twists his flesh fingers around a bit. “Uh, same as you: ‘no shit, piss, or knives’. I don’t normally use safe words or gestures, but the traffic system is easy. No electricity. Ever.” He stops, staring at his prosthetic arm for a few seconds. Lifting his head, he looks Clint right in the eyes, “My arm stays on .”
“Who the fuck asked you to take your arm off!?” Clint blurts out angrily.
“You’d be surprised how many guys want to fuck an amputee and be fuckin creepy about the stump.”
Clint goes bright red, then stills. “If you want me to, I can kill ‘em and make it look like an accident.”
Bucky laughs, “Nah, but thanks.”
He leans forward onto his knees and rests his vibranium hand around Clint’s neck. “Now, is that everything or do we need to do any other talking?”
Clint swallows hard and shakes his head, eyes blown with lust. He surges forward to meet Bucky in a sloppy kiss. Bucky drives his tongue into Clint’s mouth, as if trying to commit the map of his teeth to memory. Clint sits up on his knees as well to get better leverage in the kiss. He sucks hard on Bucky’s tongue, who moans and goes limp. Clint pushes Bucky backwards until he flops on the bed, head at the edge of the bed. Clint straddles Bucky’s chest, inching forward until he can rest his dick against Bucky’s panting mouth.
“I thought you were gonna rail me, bud.” Clint says as he reaches an arm behind himself to jerk Bucky back to full hardness.
Bucky whines, hips involuntarily thrusting into Clint’s dry, slack grip. He lifts his head to look at Clint, opening his mouth to retort. Clint shoves his dick into Bucky’s mouth, laughing at the look of pure indignation that flashes across his face.
“Hey. You started this. I’m finishing in your throat whether you want me to or not Barnes.”
Bucky pales, and before he can punch Clint in the leg, Clint has pulled out of his mouth and moved to sit on the bed.
“I take it that’s a hard boundary then.” Clint says, watching Bucky carefully for any signs of further distress.
“Fuck, Clint.” Bucky exhales shakily. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the echos of memory from his mind. “Yes, that’s a hard fuckin’ boundary. No kind of dirty talk involving forcing me to do anything.”
He scrubs his flesh hand down his face wearily. “This is why I prefer to cruise.”
Instead of engaging the hurt Bucky’s confession causes, Clint asks, “Because you brace for that kind of thing?”
Bucky laughs humorlessly, “No, because most one-night stands don’t get into that kind of dirty talk. It’s mostly just ‘fuck yeah’ or ‘damn your ass is tight’ or ‘your mouth was made for suckin’ dick’.” Bucky sighs heavily, staring at Clint, disappointment and resignation blanketing his face. “I honestly didn’t think I’d have to deal with that from you. Y’know, because of your history. S’why I didn’t bring it up.”
He climbs out of the bed, and starts to put his jeans back on. Clint feels like absolute shit.
“I’m sorry, Bucky.”
Bucky pauses mid-zip of his jeans to stare blankly over Clint’s head. He deliberates for a moment before shaking himself out of it. “I know.”
As he finishes fastening his jeans he sighs. He turns his back to Clint and sits on the bed. “I just...This is still new. To me.” He leans on his knees and fiddles with his dog tags as they swing around. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve tried...a long-term relationship. It’s always been one-night stands.” He laughs darkly. “Even the women I dated as cover.”
Clint resigns himself to a cold shower. He grabs one of his pillows and drops it in his lap, suddenly chilled now that the heat was gone from the scene.
“I… Is there anything I can do?” Clint asks tentatively.
Bucky shakes his head. “No. Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know . Usually if this shit happens with a stranger I just bolt out the door.”
He flops back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. God, if he could just get it together that’d be great. He’s been trying to bed Clint for months now. Is he really gonna let this shit get in the way of it? He’s startled out of his thoughts when Clint gets out of the bed. Clint stops when he sees Bucky flinch.
“I’m gonna put my pants back on.”
Bucky nods, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. He stares at the ceiling harder, trying to stomp down the shame he feels. He feels around with his left hand above his head for a pillow and snags a small throw pillow. It’s purple. Of course it’s purple. Clint is just one of those people. What’d Sam call them, “Purple people”? That’s Clint. Bucky puts the pillow over his face and tries to pretend he doesn’t exist.
Instead of doing all the work needed to get back into his skinny jeans at ass-o'clock at night Clint goes to his chest of drawers and pulls out a pair of purple track pants and slips them on quickly. Clint laughs gently at Bucky as he makes his way back to the bed.
“Man, you’re more dramatic than Lucky at the vet.”
Bucky pulls the pillow away from his face and wings it at Clint’s face. “Fuck you, Barton. I’m nothing like your mangy mutt.”
“Glad to hear it. Means I don’t have to share the pizza I’m ordering with you.” Clint has his phone out, the local pizza joint’s website open in the browser.
Bucky props himself up on his elbows, brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you’re not gonna kick me out?”
Clint stops his bleary pecking at his phone to stare at Bucky. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
Bucky shrinks in on himself, replying, “Because sex is off the table and this was a sex-date?”
Clint sighs, taps a few more things on his phone before shoving it into his pocket. He sits next to Bucky on the bed.
“Bucky, this wasn’t a ‘sex-date’.” Clint says, putting air-quotes around “sex-date”. “It was just a date. To be honest? I didn’t think sex was going to be on the table for a long time. So, it was kind of a surprise to me how into it you were.”
They sit in silence for a while, both lost in their thoughts. Clint relaxes, unconsciously leaning towards Bucky, bumping shoulders.
“You know… I think I’m the one who should apologize.”
Clint looks sideways at Bucky. Bucky is still leaning on his elbows, head dropped back, staring at the ceiling with a sniper’s laser focus. “Yeah?” Clint prompts.
Bucky finally looks at Clint, turning on his side to face him fully. “Yeah. I was so terrified of fucking up or scaring you that I didn’t even think about stuff that’s not things-being-done-to-me, y’know?”
Clints nods. “Yeah. I know. I don’t do well with orders from strangers or, like, new people.”
“People who haven’t been fully vetted?” Bucky asks.
Clint snaps his fingers into a finger gun shape, pointing them at Bucky. “Yeah! Exactly. Fucking Loki and his stupid tesseract bullshit.”
Bucky nods, “Big mood.”
Clint looks at Bucky with disbelief before Bucky bursts out laughing.
“Holy fuck, your face, Barton!”
“Oh, so I’m back to ‘Barton’, now huh?” Clint snarks out. He grimaces, “You’re way too old to be using the slang of the youth, Buck. It sounds wrong coming from your geriatric mouth.”
Bucky grins, “That’s cap . It sounds great coming outta my mouth and you know it. You’re just jealous you can’t pull off “disenfranchised millenial” the way I do.”
Clint groans, “Fuck offf. I can do millenial just fine. I just choose not to.”
“Liar.” Bucky sits back up, bumping shoulders with Clint. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”
Clint turns towards Bucky, leaning in closer, and murmurs, “Oh, this time, huh?”
Breath stuttering in his chest, Bucky raises his flesh hand to brush his knuckles against Clint’s jaw. He leans in to kiss Clint chastely on the cheek.
“Just this once.” Bucky whispers.
Clint smiles softly. “Sure. Just this once.”
Clint breaks the tension, finally kissing Bucky properly. He runs a hand through Bucky’s hair, cupping his head as he coaxes Bucky open. He runs his tongue along Bucky’s lips, pulling back to bite the bottom gently. Bucky gasps into it, opening his mouth for Clint. Smiling against Bucky’s cheek, Clint goes about exploring Bucky’s mouth slowly. He pulls back for air, kissing down Bucky’s jawline to nose at his ear. Bucky groans with his whole chest when Clint licks his earlobe. Bucky paws at Clint’s chest ineffectively as Clint continues trailing butterfly-light kisses down his neck.
“Clint. Clint!” Bucky gasps out, “You said this wasn’t a sex date.”
Clint gently pushes Bucky back against the bed, leaning over him sideways to continue kissing him. He trails his kisses over Bucky’s collar bone, over to the scars on his shoulder. He licks the more prominent scars with an almost reverent care, following with delicate kisses. Bucky relaxes into the bed, melting into the sensation of Clint’s gentle ministrations little by little. Bucky grabs Clint’s hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the knuckles before pressing Clint’s hand against his chest on top of his dog-tags.
Clint doesn’t stop or change what he’s doing, but Bucky can feel the tension bleed out of him anyway. Bucky closes his eyes, trusting Clint. He shifts to straddle Bucky’s thigh, his own thigh resting against Bucky’s abdomen. Clint starts to follow the kisses with gentle touches of his fingertips. Clint gets right up against the seam where the arm hits flesh, but doesn’t let it stop his explorations. He worms his tongue into the gap, pausing momentarily when Bucky bites back a moan.
“You’re safe, babe. Let me hear you, Buck.” Clint says softly, turning back to the seam. He works it harder, leaving it as slick as he can before pressing his fingers against the hot flesh.
Bucky moans out loud this time, involuntarily jerking his hips up, grinding his clothed cock against Clint’s thigh. Clint smiles against Bucky’s arm, moving back to his scars to nip at them, immediately soothing them with a lick from his broad tongue. He’s still massaging the flesh at the seam of the vibranium socket, pressing it gently, carefully rubbing any knots out of it.
Bucky whines, turning his head to watch Clint. He grips Clint’s free hand tighter, clutching it against his chest like it’s a life-line.
“Oh god, that feels so good.” Bucky slurs a little, endorphins giving him a light head rush.
Clint lifts his head to give Bucky a long once-over. His hair is spread out around his head like a halo, eyes blown out with pleasure, pupils large enough to drown in. He’s flushed and sweating already, flush traveling down his neck to fade into his chest. His jeans have slipped down his hips to reveal a happy trail leading to the first dusting of pubes peeking out of the waistband of his jeans. His cock is hard, and leaking enough pre-cum to practically soak his jeans. Clint shifts his thigh just enough to press it against Bucky’s erection.
Bucky keens, dropping his head back and screwing his eyes shut, the light pressure enough to send him over the edge.
“Fuck! Clint, oh god! Fuuck!” Bucky exclaims, hips jerking against Clint erratically. Clint’s eyes widen when the wet spot on Bucky’s jeans spreads to over twice the size.
“You weren’t joking about how much you cum.” Clint says.
Panting, Bucky shakes his head, eyes still clenched shut. “I wasn’t joking about my refractory period either.”
Clint stares at Bucky until he opens his eyes. “You really don’t have a refractory period?”
Bucky nods. “Yeah, takes about four orgasms before I start to get tired. Five or six for me to start getting soft.”
Clint whistles through his teeth. “I have my work cut out for me then, huh?”
He pulls his hand out of Bucky’s grasp and reaches to unbutton his jeans. He pauses to ask, “Can I suck you off?”
Bucky nods quickly. He grabs Clint's hand to stop him, to look him in the eyes, and says, “Last guy who tried to swallow aspirated my cum because he couldn’t swallow fast enough.”
Clint frowns, and replies, “Guy obviously didn’t know how to deep-throat.”
Bucky shakes his head, “Well, don’t come crying to me when all you can smell for the next week is my spunk.”
Clint grins slyly, “Of course, you could always paint my face white if you want.”
“Before the pizza guy gets here?” Bucky asks.
Clint cackles with glee, “Oh, he’s seen me naked and covered in blood. He won’t bat an eye.”
Bucky rolls his eyes, “I’ll have to bat my eyes for the both of you then because you won’t be able to open your eyes.”
“Keep talking and I’m gonna stop believing you, buddy.”
Bucky scoffs and shucks off his jeans to reveal his cock, upper thighs, and taint coated with cum. Clint stares for a moment before swiping a finger through the mess, scooping up the cooled spunk into his mouth. Bucky groans at the sight, fisting the blanket above his head.
“I ought to press your face into the mess Barton, you like it so much.” Bucky rasps out, voice rough with lust.
Clint raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “You talk a lot, but you haven’t put any money where your mouth is, pal.”
Bucky growls and grabs ahold of Clint’s neck, pulling him down to rub his face in the mess of Bucky’s groin. Clint moans, sticking his tongue out to lick it up as Bucky controls him. Bucky huffs with frustration and manhandles Clint until he’s on his knees at the foot of the bed, bracketed on either side by Bucky’s knees. Clint is a little dazed.
“I have a new kink,” Clint announces. “Getting thrown around like I weigh nothing. Fuck.”
Bucky chuckles as he shifts on the bed until he’s barely seated on the edge of it. His balls hang down between his legs, heavy and distended. Clint reaches up to play with them, startling when Bucky grabs his hand.
“Ah, no.” Bucky says, “That’s game over.”
Clint redirects his attention to Bucky’s cock. He swallows thickly as his mouth waters uncontrollably. Bucky’s cock is streaked with dried cum, but pre-cum is still pouring out of the tip like a faucet. Clint is going to have to wash his bedding in the industrial machine in the basement to get all the spunk out. He shakes his head free of the distracting thoughts, instead diving into sucking Bucky off. He licks his lips, trying to decide what angle to heh come at it.
“It’s not gonna bite you Clint.” Bucky raises an eyebrow at the archer. “I promise I won’t thrust if you don’t want me to.”
Clint flips Bucky off, opting to put his mouth on Bucky instead of answering. He slides down as far as he can before alarming his gag reflex. As he pulls back he glances at Bucky. Bucky is watching Clint with an expression close to awe, hands fisting into the blanket. The blanket is straining under his prosthetic, just about to tear from the pressure. Clint redoubles his efforts, swallowing down his gag reflex as he takes Bucky almost to the hilt, lips stretched wide enough to crack at the corners. As he pulls back drool dribbles out of his lips sluggishly. Bucky groans, reaching his vibranium hand out to cup the back of Clint’s head.
“Just like that, baby. You’re doin’ so good for me Clint.”
Clint whines at the praise, eyes fluttering shut as Bucky gently guides him back down, pressing Clint far enough to rub his nose in the coarse hair at the base of Bucky’s dick. He pulls off, catching his breath.
He looks Bucky in the eyes and says, “You wanna pull my hair? Go for it. Wanna push me down until I’m squirming for air? Ok.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer and slides his mouth back down Bucky’s hot length, swallowing the stream of pre-cum easily. Bucky slides his flesh hand into Clint’s hair, pulling just enough to stop Clint from bottoming out again. Bucky holds Clint there as he gives an experimental thrust down Clint’s throat. When Clint offers no protest Bucky clamps his left hand on the back of Clint’s neck and thrusts harder, groaning when he feels the head of his dick pop into Clint’s throat. Clint swallows around Bucky’s length to accommodate the intrusion as his eyes slip shut.
Clint can feel Bucky’s pulse running hard in his dick, pre-cum pulsing in time with it down his throat and into his stomach. He hums a whine out around Bucky and tries to push further down his dick, but is stopped by the iron grip Bucky has on his neck. Bucky is giving minute thrusts to Clint, barely even rocking in his mouth.
Panting hard, Bucky says, “‘M gonna come.”
He pulls out far enough for Clint to suck in a breath then thrusts hard, slamming Clint into his abdomen. As Bucky stutters through his first orgasm Clint can feel the rush of hot liquid pour into his stomach, no swallowing needed with how far Bucky is down his throat. Clint moans around Bucky’s dick at the sensation. Just as he feels like he’s on the edge of vomiting Bucky pulls out, cum still pulsing sluggishly from his dick, streaking down Clint’s chin. Clint rests his head against Bucky’s knee, gasping raggedly for air. Bucky cards his flesh hand through Clint’s hair, carefully combing out any tangles he caused.
“That’s round number one?” Clint asks, coughing wetly.
Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. I came earlier, and I jerked off a few times before you picked me up for the date.” He pauses, head bobbing as he counts mentally, “That was, like, number five? For the night.”
Clint gapes at Bucky, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “You came so much .”
“I told you.” Bucky gives Clint a once over. He’s flushed, sweat is pouring off of him, and he’s covered in drool. His stomach is slightly distended, full with Bucky’s spend. Bucky’s mouth goes dry at the sight. His dick twitches, slinging pre-cum onto the floor.
Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but gets interrupted by Clint’s lights flashing purple in time with the doorbell. Clint slowly clambers to his feet, and grabs his wallet from the laundry chair next to his door. He’s halfway to the door when he looks down and sees his raging erection tenting out his thin track pants. He detours to his linen closet in the hallway and shucks his pants off, opting instead to grab a deep purple towel. He wraps it tightly around his waist, letting the excess fall between his legs to hide his boner.
He opens the door and sees it’s a new delivery person.
“Oh shit, is Liam off tonight?”
The delivery person shakes their head, “No, he quit yesterday, something about delivering to the crazy guy in the mafia apartments.” They shift the boxes in their arms around to pull a pen from their shirt pocket. “Your total is $41.35.”
Clint nods knowingly, and pulls three twenties from his wallet. “Keep the change kid.”
Clint takes the boxes from the delivery person and sets them on the counter. When he turns to shut the door the kid is still there. Clint raises his eyebrows at the kid.
“My name is Kai. I’ll probably be the one you’ll see most often now.”
Clint nods again. “Ok. Thanks Kai.”
As he shuts the door he hears Kai blurt out, “You’ve got something on your face!”
Clint chuckles as he takes the three pizzas into his bedroom, thankful that Kate has Lucky for the weekend, the pizza stealing bandit. He sets them down on the bed next to Bucky. Bucky is laying on his back, flesh arm behind his head, lazily fisting his dick with his vibranium hand. There’s pre-cum caked into the grooves of his hand.
“Does it feel like someone else?” Clint asks, settling onto the bed by Bucky’s head, gesturing at the vibranium hand.
Bucky shrugs. “It’s hard to describe. This arm has more temperature sensation, but less pressure. Sometimes I miss the Soviet arm because of that.”
Clint opens the top box, the scent of veggie pizza wafting into the air. When the scent of the pizza fails to make him drool, Clint glances at his distended stomach, noticing for the first time how full he is.
“Aw, man.”
Bucky cranes his neck to look at Clint questioningly.
“I gotta go throw up. I can’t eat pizza on top of all your cum.” Disappointment is splashed across Clint’s face, along with all the other fluids there.
“Can I watch?” Bucky asks.
Clint does a double take at Bucky. “You...Want to watch me throw up?”
Bucky shakes his head, “No, I want to watch you throw up my spunk, specifically.”
Clint suddenly hears the squelch of Bucky fisting his dick a little faster, pre-come drooling all over his hand, running down the metal plates of his arm to puddle on the bedspread.
Clint’s dick twitches at the sight, at the idea of Bucky watching him vomit and getting off to it.
Clint bounces his head right and left, putting on a show of deliberating.
“Yeah, ok.”
Clint gets off the bed and ambles toward the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Bucky practically bounces out of bed, hot on his heels like an eager puppy. Clint turns on the light and stands in front of the toilet, waiting to see where Bucky lands. Bucky leans against the counter next to the toilet, eyes laser-focused on Clint. Clint suppresses a shudder at having all of Bucky’s attention on him, feeling almost like a trapped rabbit.
Clint puts the seat up and bends at the waist. He puts two fingers down his throat and fucks with his uvula until he feels the first heave. He quickly pulls his fingers out of his mouth as he feels bile start to climb his throat. He vomits hard, eyes streaming, adding to the mess already on his face. He notices the vomit is off-white, discolored by the bile that comes up with Bucky’s cum.
Distantly he hears Bucky groan, vaguely aware of movement out of the corner of his eye. He heaves until the only thing that comes out is thick, viscous bile. He wipes his mouth off as he reaches to flush the toilet. He turns to the sink and attempts to shove Bucky out of the way to wash his hands.
Bucky startles into motion, pulling Clint against himself and kisses him hard, driving his tongue into Clint’s mouth. He swallows Clint's noise of surprise, kissing him with a desperation Clint’s never seen before. Bucky bends Clint backward, cradling his head with his flesh hand, and runs his vibranium arm down Clint’s torso. He undoes the towel around Clint’s waist and kicks it out of the way when it falls to the floor.
He takes Clint’s dick into his prosthetic hand and gives it a few tugs to bring it back to full hardness. Clint pulls away for air, gasping at the cool sensation of Bucky’s metal hand.
“Oh fuck, that’s weird.” Clint blurts out, hips thrusting into Bucky’s hand regardless.
Bucky grins, “Told you it’s hard to describe.”
He pulls Clint back up to standing before grabbing behind his thighs to lift him on top of the bathroom counter. Bucky slots himself between Clint’s legs, pressing himself flush against Clint’s torso. He reaches between them with his vibranium hand and wraps it around both of their dicks, spreading his pre around to slick them up. Clint gasps, slumping against the mirror, watching Bucky’s hand strip them fast. Bucky’s panting hard, jerking his hips up into his fist and against Clint. Clint reaches out to grab Bucky’s shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss.
Bucky pulls back from the kiss to bite Clint’s neck, soothing the sting with his tongue. Clint arches, back bowing and he comes, white streaking up his chest. Bucky curses and squeezes his dick harder, following behind with a few brutal thrusts into his fist. Clint’s spend gets lost in the mess Bucky makes, dick pulsing hard as Bucky’s balls draw up tight against his taint.
Bucky slumps against Clint, clinging to his shoulders as he keeps cumming. He twitches through it, exhaustion settling on his frame. He lazily ruts in the mess of fluid on Clint’s abdomen, reveling in the sensation of cooling cum on a warm body. He turns his head to mouth at Clint’s neck, licking and nipping until Clint is moaning.
“Buck, I gotta take a breather.”
“That’s fine. I’m spent.”
He shoves off of Clint to step back, revealing his softening cock, absolutely painted in cum from his navel to the middle of his thighs. Clint swallows, mouth dry at the sight.
“Fuck, that’s hot, Buck.” Clint says, giving Bucky a thorough once-over. His dick twitches in a valiant effort to harden.
Bucky smiles, “I’m glad you think so. I’m gonna rinse off, before I get too crusty.”
He turns to the shower behind himself, and turns it on full blast. As he steps in he turns his head towards Clint.
“You can join me if you want?”
Clint shakes his head, “Nah, the shower is only big enough for one regular person, let alone a brick-shithouse of a supersoldier and a bog standard superhero at the same time.”
~~~
After they both shower and each put on a pair of Clint’s many grey sweatpants, they sit on the bed to chow down on the now cold pizza Clint ordered. Bucky has a giant water bottle next to him, to sip between bites of greasy pizza. They sit in companionable silence while they polish off the last of the pizza. Clint grabs the boxes and folds them down on the way to the trashcan in his kitchen. He steps on something crunchy in front of the fridge and grimaces on further inspection. It’s the pre-come Bucky dripped on the floor at the beginning of the night, crusty and off-white. He wipes it up with a wet paper towel, and grabs a second water bottle for Bucky to re-hydrate with.
He walks back to his bedroom, shuffling his feet across his carpet. He pauses in the doorway to take in the sight on his bed. Bucky has slipped under the covers, laying on his right side, back to the wall. His eyes are open, but barely. He’s breathing has evened out and his mouth has dropped open slightly.
Clint shakes his head fondly, moving to set the water bottle on the nightstand. He comes up short when he sees Bucky’s dog-tags coiled neatly next to Clint’s hearing aid case. Clint puts the water bottle down next to the other one, which is almost empty. He sits on the edge of his bed while he removes his hearing aids, slotting them into their case carefully. He sets it back down next to Bucky’s dog-tags, making sure neither will fall off the nightstand in the night.
He turns and slips under the blankets next to Bucky, turning so Bucky is spooning him. Bucky moves his vibranium arm from his side to drape it over Clint’s stomach. He pulls Clint closer, and buries his face in the join where shoulder meets neck. Clint can feel Bucky smiling against his skin. Clint laces his fingers into Bucky’s and relaxes into sleep.
Fin