Clint and Bruce had been going steady for a while, but had never entertained the idea of…well, being together, at least not until, after a round of drinks, they had returned to the tower relaxed and conveniently rid of any of those former anxieties. Clint made the first move, crawling atop Bruce and grinding down into his crotch—and holy shit, Clint thought, Banner is packing some serious heat. He could feel it beneath those hideous corduroys, and it was begging to get out, so Clint helped; sliding down into the floor, relishing Bruces’ little hitch in breath, he unzipped his pants and eased his underwear out of the way, and Bruce’s cock came forward, resting on his lap.
“Oh my god, Bruce…” Clint was nearly speechless as he ran his hand over the top of Bruce’s length, unconsciously licking his lips.
“You, uh…you want to do something with that, Clint?” Bruce smiled and wrapped his hand around it, moving it toward Clint’s wanting mouth.
“It would be my distinct pleasure.”
Sometimes, when Sebastian needed a break from the insanity and terror of Moriarty’s world, he would come to Clint for rest and succor—ironic, considering Clint’s lifestyle wasn’t much more to be desired, but it was a comfort to know that he was there to meet his needs, not the other way around. If his boss had been particularly pushy or hard on him that day, he’d fuck Clint into the mattress with his hands around his throat, commanding his full obedience. Other days, he’d need Clint to put him back into his place, and he would do so with an unyielding hand and a firm voice, turning him onto his stomach and yanking his leash as he thrust inside of him; it was those days that Moran really treasured, for they were a chance for him to give himself to someone else, someone he knew truly wanted to give him what he needed, not use him for whatever purpose he required. Clint wasn’t always around at the right time, but somehow he was always there when Seb really needed it, and he always delivered, no matter what danger he was in or what sort of mission he was engaged in. When Seb would take his leave—and it was always grudgingly—he would return to Moriarty, rejuvenated and ready to carry out his wishes, but his mind would always be on Clint, waiting to receive him again.
The bands of energy felt soft as feathers around Darcy’s wrists and ankles, but when she tried to move against them they held fast, as if she had been tied down with solid stone; Loki stood over her, admiring his work.
“Hmm, this is lovely. Now what shall I do to you, sweet Darcy?” Darcy’s breasts rose and fell with her haggard breathing, and Loki stroked one with his cool hand; goosebumps spread over her body and she moaned, biting her lip.
“I dunno, you’re a god. What do you normally do with sexy women?” Loki chuckled and grabbed Darcy’s hair, jerking back her head and breathing against her long neck, running his other hand down her abdomen and stroking her cunt with his long, dangerous fingers.
“You don’t want to know.” Darcy arched against his touch and moaned, nodding her head and boldly meeting his gaze. This pleased Loki, it seemed, for his eyes brightened and his smile widened; was he not used to people being happy with him?
“Yes, I do.”
"You need to stop kissing," Tony says, trying to push his way in between Steve and Natasha, "the cookies are never going to get done." But he insists on having his own batter-tasting kisses, and it’s the same when they’re eating the freshly baked concoctions — Thor sneaks one hand into the basket and another into Clint’s lap, and then Clint’s hopeless and moaning while they all feed him cookies and cover his body with kisses.
They can’t climb into the showers after a battle with this alien force or that one, not without Steve and Tony pressed up against the shower wall, without Bruce tracing his hands over Tony’s ass and Thor watching with his cock in hand, laughing and grunting. And movie night is pretty much makeout night, while everyone fumbles around in the dark and tries to figure out from the taste of their partner’s mouth who he or she kissed last (yes, Pop Tarts are a dead giveaway). And there are times when they don’t have the energy to go much further than kissing, but these are superheroes, and they live with enthusiasm and energy and drive that would exhaust the normal human — and they fuck the same way: wider and stronger and larger than life.
"That’s it," Tony Stark fairly cooed into Stiles’ ear calloused fingers petting soothingly against her lower back as he pressed the head of his dick against her already full vagina, and she bit back the growing urge to hit him for it, "Just relax an-"
With a growl Stiles unknotted one hand from the handle —a partially unbolted plate on the armor— and did her best to bitch slap her boss and his condescending attitude, “Stop treating me like glass and put it in!”
God, he was treating her like a virgin, which was sweet thought for all that it was a decade late, but at this point going slow was only making things worse, she’d rather have the initial burning stretch of taking Tony and the very life-like attachment he’d placed on the suit over with so she could get to enjoying herself faster.
Tony, bless his twisted heart, finally did exactly what she’d told him to do, Stiles gasped as she gripped the cold metal below her tightly, breathing in deeply and consciously relaxing herself as Tony’s dick nudged in right next to the cool length already inside her.
"Next time," Tony said a little out of breath, fingers immediately finding Stiles’ clit, which went a long way to pushing her beyond any pain she might still be feeling, Stiles moaned and rocked back a little, "I’ll have it vibrating."
“I’m gonna ride you so hard tonight, Bruce.” Steve whispered into Bruce’s ear during the meeting, Tony’s voice drowned out in favor of a more pleasant one saying much more pleasant things. “And when I’m done, I’m gonna clean you up with my mouth. You like that, Bruce?” He did, but it was getting very hard to resist the urge to pull himself out and relieve his discomfort in front of everyone, underneath the board room table. Visions of his super-soldier hovering over him, slamming himself down on his cock flooded his mind, his cries as familiar to him as if he were making them right then.
“Heh, didn’t…realize you knew how to talk like that, Steve.” Steve grinned and placed a hand on his thigh, feigning interest in Tony’s newest equipment as he slid his palm over his sensitive groin.
“Then you might want to start listening closer.” He murmured before commenting to Clint that the new bow design would be very beneficial in later missions, he agreed—poor Bruce merely sighed and squirmed in his seat, anticipating what he knew would be worth the wait.
Steve didn’t normally wake up with a hard-on—it was one of the many ways in which he defied the laws of nature—but this morning was different, and Bruce could quite literally feel it, nudging against the small of his back as Steve shifted in his sleep. He smiled and slid under the covers, knowing what to do; moving between Steve’s legs, Bruce tongued the soft flesh of his balls, smiling against the inside of his thigh as Steve slowly recognized his touch.
“Mmm…Bruce?” Bruce didn’t allow Steve any time to respond, instead taking the head of his cock into his mouth, sucking lightly on it. “Oh my…yeah, Bruce, that’s…”
“Pretty good wake-up call, huh?” He murmured as Steve moved the covers away, blearily staring down at Bruce, who slid Steve’s length deeper and deeper into his hot mouth. Steve couldn’t really argue: save for a hot plate of pancakes there wasn’t much better of a way to wake up…though Bruce would have him questioning even that conclusion with his clever tongue and caring hands.
Golden strands slipped through Loki’s fingers as he caressed Thor’s blond hair; and then he closed his fist and yanked brutally.
“Tsk tsk, brother,” Loki breathed, drinking in Thor’s surprised hiss of pain; he closed his hand over the front of of Thor’s throat, feeling the gulping swallow as he pressed. “You know I hate ceding control… and the trivial romance of gentleness is utter offal,” he said, loosening his hand and stroking Thor’s hair again with the absolute tenderness of a lover.
Thor’s face reddened as his air was cut off; Loki squeezed his hand closed around a hank of hair again, feeling Thor’s locks bite into his fingers as it wrapped tight about them, yellow against white-red skin. Loki’s cock throbbed with the need to fuck, to fuck as he choked the breath from his brother, to fuck as he controlled the mere freedom of Thor’s gaze.
Thor’s meaty fingers closed around Loki’s wrist, pulling it slowly from his throat and guiding it to the massive erection between his thighs; his eyes clearly read yes, I will take every ounce of what you think you can give as Loki pulled harder on his hair.
under a cut for possible coercion
“Are you gonna be loud for me?” Natasha’s words came out in pushes of breath each time she thrust into Clint’s ass. He was biting his lip trying to stay quiet, but she could see his control cracking. “Come on, let me hear it,” she purred, hand closing around the head of his cock, squeezing with each drive of the strap-on.
He pulled his knees higher, eyes squeezed shut and breath coming fast, but still no moans, no strangled versions of her name. Her ass muscles flexed hard as she changed the angle, up and in, the harness pushing hard against her clit with every stroke.
“Nat,” Clint gritted out as come looped across his chest. “Fuck, Nat,” he said, still quiet, but for Hawkeye that was a scream.