Owned
Owned
He didn’t know why he was doing this.
He could still remember who he was before his mind was infested; before he was pulled out and rearranged and made into something else. The time between then and now was just as much a part of who he was as everything that had come before, regardless of how he’d come to be this way. He was still Clint Barton, the Tesseract hadn’t changed him quite that much.
But then there was this.
A breathy hiss filled his ears as the hard length plunged back into his mouth, filling his throat nearly to the point of gagging him. It wasn’t the first time, he knew how to cope, and he pulled off just enough to avoid choking. A shudder wracked the lithe body above him, followed by a quiet moan before his mouth was filled once more.
Why was he doing this?
Why did he want to?
Without thought, Clint’s hands came up to grasp the straining thighs as he doubled his efforts, bobbing his head to meet each thrust as it came and sucking hard on each downward stroke.
“Yesssss! Such a good pet you are, my Hawk.”
He lifted his eyes to the man moving above and inside him, to see Loki’s startling green gaze piercing into his own unnaturally blue one. Those eyes narrowed and a pleasured hiss leaked between clenched teeth as Clint swallowed on the next thrust. He felt those deceptively strong fingers carding through his hair, almost petting him, before they squeezed into a fist. Clint winced against the pain, but never took his eyes from Loki’s, even as the demigod’s hips sped their movements.
“So... very... pliant,” Loki panted. “On your knees... before me.” He was shuddering now, all rhythm lost as he drew closer to his release. “My pet. My Hawk.”
And with one last harsh thrust: “Mine!”, and he was coming, fist tightening in Clint’s hair, holding him in place. Eyes still locked upon Loki’s, Clint swallowed him down. Any discomfort he might have felt was obliterated by those words, and in that moment, he felt completely and utterly owned.
He didn’t know why that made him so happy, either.