In Black

AN: Me again with the FrostHawk smut. Here, I bring you a bit of self-indulgent kink. While at the store buying hair dye for my Hawkeye cosplay and texting my Loki, I made the offhand comment that I miss my black hair, and that Clint should just go goth to make it easier on me. Cue massive fangirl squealing over Clint Barton with black hair, nail polish and eyeliner. And leather pants. And a collar. And then this happened. You're welcome.

 

 

    Clint was starting to think Fury was punishing him for something. These missions were getting worse and worse, and he was beginning to get just a little pissed off.



    “Fucking cyclops is probably chortling his bald ass off right now,” Clint mumbled, looking down at himself to make sure his undercover attire was in place. How the hell he was supposed to know was beyond him, he just put on what they gave him and hoped it came together all right.



    He was avoiding the last accessory, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d come this far, he’d saved the worst for last.



    The buckles clinked loudly in the otherwise silent bathroom as Clint fastened the collar around his neck, the muscles in his jaw clenching at the feeling of the imitation leather against his throat. The backings of the studs were cold against his skin, and he was wondering why people liked wearing this shit when he happened to catch his reflection in the mirror.



    “I am too old for this shit,” Clint muttered, finally staring at the finished product of hours of preparation.



    His hair, dyed black for this mission, no longer lay flat but was teased up into sharp spikes at mad angles. His eyes were ringed with black kohl, and the dark makeup brought out a striking contrast to his eyes, making them appear even paler and more luminescent than usual. Clint looked away from that quickly, the sight called up an old, buried ache in his chest he’d rather not explore.



    The shirt was artfully piecemeal, tatters of black fabric strategically stitched to mesh and held in place with silver clasps. The material seemed to flow and move with him and called attention to some of his more impressive attributes. Clint felt almost naked.



    Then there were the pants.



    Black, supple leather held tight to the muscles of his legs with straps and buckles (so many buckles!) and they clung to him like a second skin, as if they’d been made to fit him.



    Clint kicked one leg out to test the movement and was gratified to note at least they weren’t too restricting, and if things went south, at least he’d be able to maneuver without too much trouble. But fucking hell, why did they need him for this? Surely there was someone better suited? Someone not him?



    The sound of the apartment door opening snapped him out of his internal rant, his eyes flying wide in panic. They shot to the closed door of the bathroom; even alone in the apartment, Clint couldn’t bear to put this on without some privacy. He heard the door shut, footsteps in the front room, then;



    “Clint?” Loki’s questioning voice called out.



    There was a moment, just a quick, fleeting moment, when Clint pondered if he could fit through the narrow bathroom window and scale the outside wall without falling to his death in the amount of time it would take Loki to figure out where he was.



    The footsteps were coming closer, now. The apartment was tiny, there really was nowhere to hide, so Clint did the only thing he could do.



    “Yeah, in here,” he called out, his voice laced with resignation.



    He hoped Fury was enjoying his little joke, because there was so much insubordination coming his way when this assignment was over.



    There was a tentative tap at the door, and Clint was glad that he’d at least thought to knock first. It had taken him a while to teach Loki the lesson that a closed bathroom door, even between lovers, was sacred.



    With a sigh, Clint reached out and turned the knob, letting the door swing open.



    Loki stood there before the threshold, his expression one of curiosity mixed with perhaps just a touch of concern, but his face froze into one of complete shock when his eyes landed on Clint. It was almost funny, in a way. Clint had never seen the demigod rendered speechless, but it seemed as if all of the air had been released from his lungs and pulling more in would distract him from the sight before him.



    Clint stepped back from the doorway until he was against the basin with no where left to go. He eyed Loki hesitantly, unsure of his reaction. Mainly because he hadn’t reacted yet.



    “What... is this?” Loki finally managed to ask, his eyes sliding from the dark, spiked hair to the naked feet and all of the buckles, spikes, leather and mesh in between. When his gaze met Clint’s, his eyes widened at the black outlining his sniper’s eyes.



    Clint swallowed nervously, still unsure how Loki was taking his transformation. “Uh... Undercover assignment. Fury’s orders. This... was not my idea. I’m more of a jeans-and-tshirt kinda guy.”



    Clint nervously ran his hands down the leather hugging his legs, and Loki’s eyes fell away from his own to follow the path they charted. Only then did he notice the nails of Clint’s fingers were also painted, the digits themselves adorned with bulky silver rings. Each and every movement Clint made was advertised, from the sounds of metal clinking and leather creaking to the sight of bright, flashing silver.



    He was harder than he’d ever been.



    There was no warning; one moment, Loki was standing stunned in the doorway, and the next he was across the room, pinning Clint against the basin with his hands on his hips. Clint swore quietly to himself as Loki used his taller frame to push him back against the counter, their groins pressed flush together as Clint’s back arched. His hands came back to brace himself, eyes wide and staring up into flashing green.



    “This was the Director’s idea, then?” Loki growled down at him. He was so close, all Clint could see of him were his ravenous eyes.



    “I guess...,” Clint said hesitantly.



    Loki cut him off by squeezing his leather-clad hips tightly. A shock of pleasure radiated through him, and he gasped and pushed his hips up before he could think to stop himself.



    “I will have to thank him, then,” Loki said, bending down until his lips could brush against Clint’s. “You should dress this way more often, Barton. I find you... irresistible in such attire.”



    Clint gasped at the feeling of Loki’s arousal twitching against him, and felt himself start to stiffen, despite how ridiculous he felt. Loki approved, and really, that was all Clint’s body cared about.



    Loki’s hands left his hips to undo his belt, pulling it roughly from the loops to toss it on the floor. It landed with a clank of metal against tile. Clint could do nothing but look down to where Loki’s fingers were deftly unfastening his pants with harsh tugs. He let Loki have his way, he knew where this was going and knew he would have little say. He knew the moment Loki’s eyes burned into his own; Clint wasn’t in charge this time.



    His pants undone, Clint felt the slightly cool fingers of Loki’s hands slide inside to wrap around his hardening length. He gasped and pushed up into the tight fist even as Loki’s other hand shoved the leather down his hips just enough to expose him to his eyes. When those flashing green eyes finally pried themselves away from Clint’s, they dropped down to take in the sight of the rigid length framed by the open fly of his pants and contained within the tunnel of his own fingers. Loki let out a deep groan and squeezed harder, almost painfully, before giving a long, slow tug.



    “Fuck!” Clint gasped, his head falling back against the mirror, eyes squeezed tightly shut. His hands, still braced against the smooth counter, clenched into fists at the dry friction, and his hips thrust up helplessly despite the slight burn.



    “Yes,” Loki breathed against his throat before lapping at the skin just above the collar. “But first, I think, I would like to hear you beg for it.” And with that, he sank to his knees between Clint’s spread legs.



    Clint panted down at him, his eyes holding a pleading, desperate look. He opened his mouth to say something, and Loki chose that moment to lean forward and run his long tongue up the underside of the hard cock before him. Whatever Clint was about to say was obliterated in the guttural cry he let loose, his fingers curling around the lip of the counter to hold himself upright as his knees trembled under his weight.



    Loki hummed smugly to himself before sliding his mouth over the head of Clint’s cock, giving a few hard sucks before pulling back to tongue the slit. Clint watched him with hooded eyes, unable to look away from the sight of his cock slowly disappearing between those lips. His hips gave tiny, helpless thrusts forward, only to be hindered by Loki’s hold on him, pressing him back into the counter.



    Clint’s hands trembled, aching to bury his fingers into long dark hair, but Loki’s eyes burned up into his own with an unspoken command. His hands stayed where they were, fingernails digging gouges into the wood. That mouth continued its slow descent, taking him just a bit deeper, sucking just a bit harder, until he was bumping against the back of Loki’s throat. And still those eyes never left his, even as his throat worked around the head of his cock, swallowing rhythmically.



    The panting breaths became tight, needy moans, the motions of his hips more desperate, and Clint bit his lip against the pleading words his brain was prompting him to say. Loki’s eyes narrowed when he saw how he was trying to keep silent and doubled his efforts, pulling back to get a quick breath before he shoved Clint’s cock down his throat in one fluid motion.



    Clint’s broken shout echoed through the tiled room as he arched back, his head slamming into the mirror hard enough to crack it. He didn’t even notice, as Loki growled around his length, his hands gripping his leather-clad hips even tighter, until the material was creaking under his fingers. He held himself there, nose buried in Clint’s groin, choking himself on the flesh filling his throat, and waited, eyes still locked on his Hawk’s face.



    There was no keeping his hands still this time, Clint had to find somewhere to put them that wasn’t somehow Loki, and so one hand flew up to grip his own hair, the stiff spikes crushed in his tightening fist. He winced at the slight pain, but it didn’t stop him from giving a sharp tug. He groaned at the familiar sting that seemed to be connected straight to his cock, his hips jerking forward as he twitched inside Loki’s mouth. Looking down, Clint met Loki’s eye and saw just how much he was affected by the sight of him abusing himself.



    His other hand left its place and slowly trailed up his stomach, beginning just above where Loki’s nose pressed tightly into his skin. He pushed the shirt up along with his hand, exposing the lines of his heaving abdomen, the muscles contracting with his panting breaths, and watched the lust darken Loki’s eyes even as his legs trembled under him.



    Holding Loki’s gaze steadily, Clint ran his hand through his hair again before taking it in a firm grip and tugging harshly, hissing a breath between his teeth at the shock of pain and pleasure.



    With a low, dangerous growl, Loki pulled away from Clint’s length, sucking firmly on his way and earning another stuttering thrust of his hips. His eyes flashed as he stood to his feet, once more towering over Clint from his greater height, made all the more prominent now that Clint was slouching back against the cracked mirror.



    And he was smirking.



    “Insolent beast,” Loki hissed, lifting one hand to thread his own fingers in Clint’s hair. “You think you will have your way? When I said I wanted to hear you beg, I meant it.”



    He pulled Clint to him in a fierce kiss, letting the other man taste himself on his tongue. Clint moaned into his mouth, one hand gripping the arm holding him still against the counter while the other finally found its way into Loki’s hair to hold him in place. He pressed up into the body above him, nearly bucking free of Loki’s hold as the kiss seemed to have distracted him slightly.



    Loki pulled away with a snarl, glaring down into Clint’s eyes. “I am no where near finished with you, Barton,” he growled, and Clint shivered at the way his name fell from Loki’s lips.



    “Good, ‘cause I’m still hard,” Clint returned, pushing his erection against the solid body pinning him.



    The smile Loki gave him sent shivers up his spine, and not necessarily in the good way.



    “Yes, I can feel that,” he agreed. “And you are going to stay that way until I get what I want.”



    And before Clint could think of a reply, Loki ducked down and scooped him up off the floor. He let out an undignified squawk as he was slung over the demigod’s shoulder and carried from the room and down the tiny hallway to their shared bedroom. His world spun as he was dumped unceremoniously on the bed, bouncing hard enough to jar his vision.



    When he could see clearly again, Loki was standing at the end of the bed, staring down at him with eyes darkened by lust and perhaps just a bit of affronted pride. As Clint watched, Loki began slowly shedding his clothing.



    Clint sat up on his elbows and watched Loki strip down to nothing but his pants, slung low on his hips without his belt. He felt his cock give a twitch of arousal when he started a slow, predatory crawl up the bed, eyes raking over his body all the while. He swallowed the needy whimper he could feel crawling up his throat at the sight. It had been... a while since Loki had taken hold of the reigns; he seemed to prefer it when Clint took charge. But there was a part of Clint that missed this.



    It was a good thing, too, because whether he wanted it or not, Loki was definitely taking back charge.



    As Loki crawled his way up his body, Clint felt the heat of his gaze traveling over every inch of him, devouring him with his eyes, and suddenly, he didn’t mind the clothes so much anymore. Not if they got him this kind of attention. His hips wouldn’t stay still as Loki worked his way up the bed towards him, and when he felt the heat of his hands sliding up his legs, they writhed and lifted from the bed as he arched his head back, exposing the line of his throat.



    Loki’s eyes settled on the collar wrapped around his Hawk’s neck. He could tell it was a cheap imitation, there only for ornamentation, but it represented something very real and binding nonetheless. His ownership of Clint had never been in question, but they had only ever spoken of it in the heat of the moment, and never had there been a physical token of his claim. He found he couldn’t look away, there was something so very arousing about the thought of owning the creature before him.



    “I will have you begging for me,” he murmured, running a finger along the skin above the collar. Clint shivered and lifted his eyes to Loki’s, the black around his eyes giving a new depth to his gaze that Loki had never noticed before. His fingers suddenly tightened around the collar, coming dangerously close to choking the breath from that throat.



    Clint’s breath hitched at the sudden constriction around his neck, his eyes narrowing dangerously, but he made no move to stop him. His hands fisted in the sheets, his feet braced against the mattress, and he pushed his hips up from the bed to press against Loki’s, hovering above him like a predator over its kill. His neglected arousal ground against that of the god above him, still trapped behind the fabric of his pants, and he shivered at the low groan Loki let out at the contact.



    “Maybe not,” Clint said, his voice raspy from the hold on his collar. “We both know how bad you want to fuck me. And I gotta say, Princess, I kinda want you to. So go ahead. You want to fuck me, fuck me. But I’m not begging for something I’m gonna get anyway.”



    Loki snarled and pulled back, glaring down at his defiant little Hawk as he pondered his words. There was nothing he’d said that wasn’t true; he was going to fuck him, regardless, but he so wanted to hear him break apart under his hands before he buried himself between those legs. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up his stoic act for much longer, and he would simply give in and take what they both knew he wanted.



    A slow, devious smile slowly spread over his face as a sudden thought came to him. Clint watched him warily; he’d learned not to trust that expression.



    “No, perhaps not,” Loki agreed, his hands falling to the waist of his pants, undoing them slowly under Clint’s scrutiny. “Having you beg for me to begin is easy enough. This time, I think I will have you begging me to stop.”



    Clint’s mouth went dry at those words. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed him quite so far.



    Loki was pushing his pants down over his hips, his eyes never leaving his Hawk’s face, watching him take in the sight of what he had for him. He smirked at Clint’s nervous squirming, at his fists tightening in the sheets and the subtle way his hips pushed back against the bed as if in retreat. When he reached out to run his hand up one leather-clad leg, he could feel the muscles twitching beneath his touch. He moved between Clint’s legs, pushing them farther apart with his knees until he was spread open like a whore, panting up at him with such a precious pleading expression. It screamed equal parts ‘use me’ and ‘please don’t break me’. Loki had no intention of denying him either one.



    “Remove this, please,” he said, sliding his hands up Clint’s torso, pushing the fabric of his shirt up along with them. “If I must do it, you won’t be getting it back.”



    Clint couldn’t get out of the thing fast enough, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion before tossing it somewhere on the floor beside the bed. He looked back up into Loki’s eyes, and as always, felt the little thrill he got whenever the god showed his appreciation of his body so blatantly. It was shameless, really, the way Loki would rake his eyes over Clint’s skin, as if seeing, touching, tasting wasn’t enough. Clint was sure he’d committed every inch of him to memory by now. And he was perfectly okay with that.



    “Such an obedient creature you are, when you so choose,” Loki said, running his hands over the hard planes of Clint’s chest, nails scratching, lightly at first, then more firmly as Clint arched into the touch. His cock gave an impatient twitch at the groan his archer loosed at the sting. “I think I shall have to give you your orders from now on, my Hawk.”



    Clint sent a mischievous grin up at him. “Do I get to call you ‘sir’?” he asked, squirming under the hands exploring his skin. His grin became a smirk when his question caused Loki’s breath to hitch, before falling from him in a broken moan.



    “I do so love it when you call me that,” he whispered, his hands falling to the waist of Clint’s pants to tug them down over his hips just enough to expose him. “I like it even better when you’re screaming it.”



    Clint bit his lip at the dark promise behind Loki’s words as he allowed himself to be pulled up into his lap, legs falling open to either side of him. He writhed against the hard length he could feel pressing against his backside. Loki huffed out a breath at the wanton display, his hips twitching forward of their own accord, and Clint felt him slide wetly along the crease of his ass.



    How did Loki always manage to slick himself up without him noticing?



    Holding Loki’s gaze, Clint slid his hands up the sheets, over his head, and wrapped his fingers around the metal bars of the headboard. He bit his lip and gave another thrust of his hips, letting that hot, rigid length slide deeper until it was brushing against his opening. A quiet moan escaped the dark god, and so he did it again. And again, until Loki was panting from the teasing friction, his fingers digging bruises into Clint’s hips.



    “You are such an insolent thing, Barton,” Loki gasped.



    “I know,” Clint said, giving a slight twist of his hips on his next thrust, and reveled in the sound it wrenched from the other man. “You should probably do something about that. Sir.”



    Loki leveled a glare at his defiant Hawk. “Oh, I intend to.”



    And with that, he lifted Clint’s hips and lined himself up with his opening, pressing firmly against that tight ring of muscle before slowly, carefully pressing inside. Then it was Clint’s turn to pant as he felt the slow, burning stretch as his body sank down on the invading length. His grip on the metal bars tightened, his head ground back into the pillows and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He felt every inch of Loki’s cock dragging against his inner walls, sending shocks and spikes of heat through his entire body.



    When that hot flesh was firmly held within him, Clint opened his eyes and looked down the line of his body to where Loki crouched over him, his gaze that of a predator contemplating his prey to decide which part to devour first.



    “It has been much too long since I felt you surrounding me, my Hawk,” Loki said, bending his body until he was hovering above him. He thrust into him from below, and Clint bit his lip harder to keep back his moans. Loki snarled and brought his thumb to Clint’s mouth, pulling the abused flesh from between his teeth. “None of that, now. I want to hear every sound you make. Hold nothing back, I want all of you.”



    Clint caught that thumb between his teeth, pressing down just hard enough to pull a hiss from the other man before sucking it into his mouth. When Loki bucked up into him, he didn’t hold his moans back, muffled as they were, and watched the eyelids flicker over the green eyes piercing into his own.



    “Seems I am not the only wanton creature in this bed,” Loki said, pulling his thumb from that greedy, grasping mouth. “There is something of a slut to you, after all, Agent Barton.”



    And then he was thrusting into that tight, clenching heat, pushing gasps and moans from his debauched sniper until he was writhing. Loki watched as the body beneath him moved against his own, grinding down to take him deeper on each thrust and lifting up to rub his aching arousal against his stomach when he withdrew. His nails drew down the skin of Clint’s flanks, leaving red welts in their wake. Clint shuddered and ground down even harder, and then he was crying out as the motion caused Loki to brush up against his spot.



    “Fuck yes... right there,” he moaned, his hands sliding down the metal rails of the headboard before pulling hard enough to bend them out of shape. Loki growled low in his throat at the sight of his Hawk nearly breaking their bed and increased his pace. Clint cried out, his body arching off the bed to meet each thrust with a slam of his own hips. He lifted his head from the pillows, burning his gaze into Loki’s. “Fuck me,” he growled.



    Loki matched his growl with one of his own, his hands leaving their places at his hips to hook around the backs of Clint’s knees. With one fluid motion, he had Clint’s hips off the bed and his knees pressed to his shoulders, effectively bending him in half, much to both of their surprise.



    “Clint... I had no idea you could bend this way...,” Loki blurted, losing his focus for just a moment.



    “Uh... surprise?” Clint admitted after catching his breath.



    “Holding out on me, my Hawk?” Loki rose up on his knees, pressing himself deeper.



    “Ha! N-no!” Clint gasped. “It just... never came - fuck! - came up!”



    “Oh, we will be using this knowledge much more in the future,” Loki promised.



    Clint groaned as Loki ground himself against his spot, and all he could do was nod and let his eyes fall closed as he sped up his thrusts. The new angle allowed all the leverage he needed to keep Clint pinned motionless, and he could do nothing but lie back and take it, his breath coming shorter and more urgently with each stroke.



    There was nothing more arousing for Loki than to see his Hawk come undone, whether he be buried to the hilt within him, or taking his thick length deep inside his own body. Looking down into Clint’s flushed, sweaty face was the epitome of all the desire he had ever felt for this one mortal; he couldn’t remember ever feeling this much lust and possessiveness before. The way he gave himself up to Loki’s demands, even when he put up his token resistance, was unlike anything he had ever had with any of his previous lovers. It had been a game, a dance, almost, but with Clint, it was different. More.



    His eyes were drawn again to the collar around his Hawk’s neck, and he found himself wishing he had placed it there himself. That Clint had let him place it there, or - dare he even think it? - asked him to.



    His hips snapped forward as a feral snarl left his throat, and Clint cried out at the sudden jarring motion, his hands leaving their perch on the headboard to grip Loki’s forearms. Their eyes met in a clash of blue and green, of lust and need.



    Clint’s tongue slid out to wet his bottom lip before letting his teeth scrape over it, and Loki finally snapped. He stopped thrusting long enough to pull back and let Clint’s legs fall back to the bed, then he was flipping him onto his stomach, pulling his hips up before plunging back inside.



    “Shit!” Clint cried, head still spinning from the sudden blood rush. “Oh... fuck... I love it when you manhandle me.”



    Loki growled and molded himself against Clint’s back, running his hands from hips to shoulders, chest to groin, before wrapping around the hard, heavy flesh between his legs. Clint cried out and bucked into the tight fist enclosed around his neglected cock, dropping his head to the pillows as his hands fisted the sheets beneath him.



    “You’re close, aren’t you my Hawk?” Loki growled in his ear. His next thrust found its target and Clint wailed into the pillows and his cock leaked into the palm surrounding him. “You can’t help it, can you? Your body knows what it needs. Give yourself over to it.” He licked a hot path up Clint’s spine. “Let me own you, Clint.”



    Clint gasped and pushed against the solid body at his back, driving that cock deeper and earning a ragged gasp from the mouth at his ear.



    “You already fucking own me,” he said, and even as he said the words he could feel his body tightening, he was ready to spill, all he needed was Loki to grant him release.



    “Do I?” Loki asked, holding the flesh in his hand tightly.



    “Yes,” Clint breathed. “Fuck! Loki, I can’t...”



    A low rumble vibrated against his back, Loki’s pleased growl, and suddenly the hand on his cock was stroking him in time with his thrusts. Every muscle in his body seemed to clench at once, the heat that had been building low in his belly began to spread, and then he was spilling out over the stroking fingers as his cries echoed throughout the tiny apartment and most likely beyond it. Neither cared if anyone heard them; it wouldn’t be the first time.



    It was too much for Loki to hope that he could hold out much longer, not after hearing and feeling his Hawk come undone around him. He thrust only a handful of times before he was emptying himself deep within, panting against the sweat-slick skin of Clint’s shoulder as his body quaked and shuddered. Below him, Clint rolled his hips, milking him for every drop and prolonging the bliss until the very end.



    He very nearly collapsed on top of him, but managed to slide off to the side, pulling Clint along with him, still buried deep. Clint hissed a curse but allowed himself to be pulled close against Loki’s heaving chest. His legs were still twisted and encased in those damn leather pants Loki never had managed to get him out of, but something told him he never intended to get him out of them, not completely anyway. He supposed he could let him have his small indulgences as long as they got him this kind of action from now on.



    “You never did get me to beg,” he said after he’d caught his breath.



    Loki groaned against his ear and tightened his hold around his waist. “Who says I am done with you, Barton?” A slow, devious smirk spread over his face when he felt the body against his go tense. “Don’t worry, I will not push you too far past your limits. You do have an assignment waiting, after all.”



    “Oh... fuck!”



    “Indeed...”