Witching Hour

    AN: Slightly fluffy, sleepy shower-sex, just because. Also pushy Loki, because he can't not be.

    AN2: This takes place in some strange RP AU my Loki and I have imagined. Not sure where this would fit in that timeline. Just take it for what it is, please; just a bit of porn with some feels attached.

 

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     It was nearly three AM when Clint finally made it home from one of the most frustrating tailing missions he’d been on in recent memory. All he wanted was a shower, a beer, and a nap. Maybe he’d have the beer in the shower, save some time.



    The nap would be the hard part.



    The apartment was dark when he stepped through the door, but he thought little of it. Loki often kept the place dark, something about not liking the artificial lights. Whatever, Clint didn’t care, he’d learned to pick his battles a long time ago. Besides, his eyes were sore and over-tired anyway, and he didn’t need lights to know his way around. They hadn’t been in the apartment long, and probably wouldn’t stay much longer with the way this mission was going, but it was small and easy to navigate even if he hadn’t memorized exactly how many strides it took to cross the living room to the kitchen.



    The light from the refrigerator was almost blinding, and Clint winced from the throbbing pain behind his eyes before squeezing them shut and reaching in blind, feeling around for the long neck of a brown bottle. He shut the door quickly once he’d found it and twisted the cap off with the palm of his hand, taking a long pull before making his way to the bedroom.



    He really should have expected it.



    The door was closed, which in itself wasn’t that unusual, except that Loki’s idea of privacy was rather different than Clint’s and probably most everyone else’s as well. He had no qualms about wandering the apartment naked, and probably would have been perfectly content to leave the curtains open while he did so. While amusing on some level, the idea of anyone other than Clint seeing the god in nothing but his skin made his lip curl and his drawing hand clench.



    No one saw Loki naked but him.



    But the door being closed was really the first clue that something was going on. It was a sign of just how exhausted he was that he missed it.



    The door opened, not to the usual sight of a simple mattress and box spring on the floor, but an ornate, wrought-iron bed frame covered in red satin sheets.



    And sprawled over top and across them, a half-dressed, dark-haired Norse deity with a penchant for leather pants.



    “So, you’ve returned to your nest, my Hawk,” Loki purred, running a hand down his bare chest, framed by the open lapels of his vest. “I’ve made some changes while you were away. I hope they meet your approval.”



    Clint just stared, standing in the doorway, bottle in hand. He took in the figure draped provocatively across the bed, the red sheets providing a stark contrast to the pale skin and dark leather. His jaw clenched when Loki let his hand wander to the waist of his leather pants, idly toying with the lacing holding them closed.



    “We’re not gonna get my security deposit back if you keep changing everything,” was all he said, stepping inside the room towards the closet, where he shrugged his jacket off and hung it up next to Loki’s long black coat.



    A disgruntled huff came from the bed as Loki rolled over onto his stomach, arms hanging off the end of the bed, and glowered at the back of Clint’s head.



    “All this time away, and that’s all you have to say to me?” he griped. “Here I am practically unwrapping myself for you, and you concern yourself with such a trifle as money?”



    Clint turned back around, giving his best unimpressed look, before stepping into the bathroom to start his shower.



    Loki followed his movements with narrowed eyes, though he was not deterred in the slightest. His Hawk was rather fickle with his attentions; it sometimes took a bit of coaxing to get him to respond, but he would respond nonetheless.



    In the bathroom, Clint was just finishing undressing, tossing his dirty clothes in the general direction of the basket. Whatever, he’d pick them up later, it’s not like they were going anywhere. He stepped under the spray of water with an exhausted sigh. God, he felt disgusting. It took far too long for him to even feel human enough to attempt to clean himself up, he just stood under the spray, letting the hot water run over his sore muscles, taking the sweat and grime of the last few days down the drain with it.



    His beer was gone and he was just finishing up actually getting clean when Clint heard the sound of the shower curtain being pulled aside. His back tensed just on reflex, even though he knew it was Loki, ever the impatient one, deciding to invite himself in. He could feel his presence at his back, looming over him like a bad omen, and Clint just let his head hang towards the floor of the tub, waiting for what would come next.



    Loki had grown impatient; his Hawk was taking an exceptionally long shower this time, and he didn’t feel like lounging around uselessly on the bed while there was a very naked and wet Clint Barton not even a dozen feet from him. The only solution was to also be naked and wet right along with him.



    He also didn’t like being ignored, especially by his Hawk, and especially when he’d gone days without so much as even hearing his voice. Being spurned as he had when he’d gone through the trouble of conjuring a decent bed out of practically nothing was not something he enjoyed, either. He’d actually put effort into it this time.



    The water was beginning to run cold, but it was still warm enough to steam up the tiny cubicle that was the shower. Loki took in the sight of Clint’s strong back, shoulders stooping with exhaustion and littered with tiny cuts and bruises where there hadn’t been any before.

     He pressed himself against the shorter man, his arms wrapping around those shoulders before licking across the worst of the cuts. Some of them were still oozing, and Loki wondered how they’d gotten there and if his Hawk had even had them looked at before coming home.



    Clint shivered against the feel of a warm tongue lapping at his wounds; it stung, but he knew better than to protest. It was just Loki’s way of showing concern, he’d learned that a long time ago, although it had taken him a while to get used to being licked like a wounded kitten whenever he got himself injured.



    “I would know how you acquired these, Agent Barton,” Loki murmured against the wet skin behind his ear.



    Clint sighed in resignation before answering. “Following my target. Window got in the way.”



    Loki growled in his ear and tightened the circle of his arms around him. “You are so careless with yourself, my Hawk. I do not like seeing you marked like this.”



    “Really?” Clint remarked dryly. “You seem to do an awful lot of the marking yourself.”



    There was the feeling of sharp teeth against the skin just above his pulse. “Do not tempt me into inflicting more upon you. You are damaged enough, I think.”



    “Yeah, about that,” Clint said, turning his head to the side to hide his vulnerable throat from sharp white teeth. “I’m fucking tired, and I’m bleeding a little bit. And I’m starting to think I might fall asleep in the next few minutes, whether I’m in that monstrosity of a bed or not.” Loki scowled at the insult to his redecorating. “Can we do this another time?”



    Loki pulled back a bit, blinking in confusion at the back of Clint’s bowed head. Was his Hawk… rejecting his advances? After nearly three days of no contact whatsoever, of rattling around in this tiny box of an apartment waiting for his return, Clint was really going to refuse him?



    Unacceptable.



    “’Another time,’ Agent Barton?” Loki hissed, crowding Clint against the wall of the shower. “You expect me to postpone my need for you after days apart? Or did you think my affections so inconsequential you could have them any time you wish?”



    Clint grunted at the sudden shove against the cold tile of the wall, and he brought his arm up to brace against it before his cheek made painful contact. The taller body fit against him snugly, until not even the water could pass between them, and he felt Loki take a handful of his wet hair in a firm grip even as his other fell to his hip, pulling him flush to his groin. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of the hard, insistent length pressing between the cheeks of his ass.



    “Damn it, I didn’t say that,” Clint panted against the tiles. “You’re such a drama queen.”



    “And you are an insolent brat, Barton,” Loki replied with a thrust of his hips. “Withholding yourself from me will only get you my ire, little Hawk. I’ve waited long enough to have you.”



    Clint’s hand fisted against the wall beside his face before sliding down the slick tile until it was level with his hips, and then he pushed himself back into the solid body behind him. He knew there was no arguing with Loki when he got demanding like this. He didn’t think he would take him by force if it really came down to it, but Clint would rather avoid the complete rejection and ensuing arguments he would have to face if he kept up his refusal.



    Yes, he had learned a long time ago which battles to fight. This one wasn’t worth it.



    Loki moaned against his ear and let up on his grip in Clint’s hair, letting his fingers comb through the wet spikes a little more gently now that he was getting his way. A small detail, but one Clint appreciated, as it wasn’t helping the thumping headache he was suffering to have his hair pulled.



    He panted against the tiles at the wet slide of Loki’s cock between his cheeks and turned his head to the side until he could glimpse him out of the corner of his eye. Loki’s gaze was all heat and lust that had been pent up for far too long, and even though he was bone-tired, beaten up and bruised, Clint couldn’t help but feel a little thrill that he was the focus of such regard. He couldn’t remember anyone wanting him quite this much.



    “Finally decided to surrender, my Hawk?” Loki muttered, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “That’s not like you. I expected more fight than this.”



    Clint pushed his hips back into the other man. “Don’t want to fight anymore,” he said. The tone of his voice implied more than just trading barbs with his lover, but Loki didn’t press the issue. He was just glad to have his Hawk responding to him.



    “No, no more fighting,” Loki said into his hair before pressing his lips to the dripping strands. “I have you now, Clint. You can stop fighting.”



    Before he could respond, Clint felt the tip of Loki’s cock brushing against his opening. His hands scrabbled at the tiles in a sudden panic; he wasn’t prepared, and shower water wasn’t really the best lube.



    “Shit! Loki… wait!” he hissed, trying to pull his hips away from the invading length.



    “Shhh… Trust me, Clint,” Loki whispered, holding him firmly in place. “I won’t hurt you, my Hawk.”



    Clint gritted his teeth at the slow burn as Loki pressed himself inside, although it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have. Either Loki had conjured something to help ease the way, or he was more numb than the thought. All he could do was pant and clench his hands into fists, nails scratching against wet tile, and try to relax himself against the body slowly sinking into him.



    Loki didn’t stop the steady press of his hips until he was seated fully, his groin cradled within the valley of his Hawk’s rather impressive backside. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of himself buried deep within before nipping gently at the shell of Clint’s ear.



    “You take me so well, pet,” he whispered, and groaned at the shudder that rolled through Clint’s body. “You didn’t seem to want me a few moments ago,  but now you’re practically sucking me in. Should I not believe anything your mouth tells me? Your body is always so much more honest.”



    “Fuck… you,” Clint panted.



    Loki chuckled darkly and let his hands drop to Clint’s hips, pulling him even tighter against him. “Such an interesting choice of words, Barton. Perhaps your mouth holds some honesty, after all.”



    “You gonna stand here and talk all night, or are you gonna fuck me?” Clint asked. He cried out as Loki swiftly withdrew before slamming back inside of him, the heavy drag of his cock brushing against his spot along the way. “That’s more like it,” he said, arching his back to take him deeper.



    “You really do love to bait me, don’t you?” Loki growled as he began to pump his hips. “It’s never enough to just have me inside you, you must provoke my ire. Tell me, little Hawk, how does it feel to have the power of a God dancing on your fingertips? To have the knowledge that I can tear you apart and know that I never will?” He slowed his thrusts, made them shallower, wringing a needy whimper from Clint’s throat. “Tell me, Clint, how it feels to be fucked by a God.”



    There were no words to describe what it did to Clint to hear his given name from Loki’s mouth. Somehow, it was more intimate even than what he would do to his body. When he dropped the pretence and the pet names, when he wasn’t what he’d been turned into, either by the world, or his job, or even by Loki himself. That, more than anything, caused him to tighten up and clench around the cock sliding in and out of him, shortening his breath, tightening his jaw against the cries that wanted to burst out of him.



    “Don’t… want a God,” Clint gasped, feeling himself getting closer to his peak, even though his cock hadn’t even been touched. “Just you… just want you.”



    Loki moaned, low and long, against his ear before dropping his forehead to Clint’s shoulder, mouthing and licking at the wet skin as his hips began to speed up.



    “Such a way with words, my Hawk,” he panted, sliding one hand around to grasp Clint’s leaking erection in a tight fist. Clint cried out at the added stimulation and bucked his hips sharply upwards before grinding back against Loki’s hips, burying him deeper still.



    The water falling around them had lost all its heat long before, but neither of them noticed as they rutted each other closer to completion. Loki’s hips stuttered in their rhythm, and Clint’s gasping cries grew louder and more desperate as the tension at the base of his spine began to unravel.



    Then suddenly, he gave a sharp cry and snapped his hips forward, and then he was painting the tiles as Loki coaxed every drop from his throbbing arousal, his body twitching and pulsing around the other man’s cock so tightly he had to still his hips and wait for him to ride out his own release before he could take his own pleasure.



    It took only a few savage thrusts to find his own release, groaning into the skin behind Clint’s ear as he spilled inside, claiming him from the inside out until there was no mistaking who belonged to whom.



    Clint panted against the tiles, trying to find the strength to keep himself upright before he collapsed in a heap at Loki’s feet. A pair of strong arms held him steady against a still-heaving chest, even when his legs would no longer hold his weight. Too tired to protest, Clint just let his head drop to Loki’s shoulder, closing his eyes against the wave of exhaustion that overtook him.



    Things were a blur after that. He vaguely recalled being dried and bundled into bed - which Loki still hadn’t turned back to normal, they were going to have a talk about that when he woke up.



    The last thing he remembered before the exhaustion overtook him was Loki’s voice, deep and warm in his ear.



    “Welcome home, my Hawk.”