kathierif_fic: (fandom:avengers:cap)
[personal profile] kathierif_fic
Title: Patience and other virtues
by: kathierif_fic
Fandom: MCU/Avengers
Pairing: Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: This is a transformative fanwork. No profit is being made.
Summary: Tony and Clint have a bet going, and both are determined to win.
A/Ns: Written for kink_bingo's square "Orgasm control/denial", also contains voyeurism and teasing :)

Steve looked up from his sketch pad at the sound of voices entering the penthouse's living room.

"I won this one, Tony. Just because you have no shame..." Clint argued as he stepped into the room.

"I let you win, plus, you didn't win, why do you think you won? I won." That was Tony, following Clint into the room and shrugging out of his suit jacket to fling it carelessly over the back of a chair.

Steve coughed, to get their attention and to let them know they weren't alone, and Tony whirled around and lifted a hand protectively to his chest. Steve didn't know why he was doing that, and he hadn't found a suitable opportunity to pry yet, and right now it didn't seem to be a good moment for that.

"We had a bet," Clint explaiend as he sat down on the couch, facing Steve. He wore civilian clothes, jeans and a shirt, and nothing of his body language betrayed the fact that he was a skilled SHIELD agent and assassin. "I won."

"You didn't," Tony argued. He gave Clint a glare and started to roll up his sleeves. His shoulders were slightly hunched, but not too tense - he knew he'd lost, Steve translated his body language, but he enjoyed this, the banter and teasing with someone who gave as good as he got, someone who wouldn't hrut him for being sassy and a bit of a brat.

It was, he marveled, amazing how well he'd learned to read Tony in the months they'd lived together in the Tower.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost thought he'd misheard Clint, who was grinning triumphantly at Tony and saying, "Shut up, Tony, and get to your knees, I have a better job for your pretty mouth."

Steve almost expected Tony to give a scathing remark, as he was prone to do when ordered to do something, but to his great surprise, Tony tossed his head back and laughed loudly before taking the few steps that separated him from Clint and, with an easy grace, slid to his knees between Clint's spread knees.

Steve's breath caught in his chest. It had been a while since he'd had the opportunity to observe this from up close, and the first time where it was just Clint and Tony. He didn't want to miss a single detail.

"You love my mouth," Tony quipped. Steve couldn't see his face, but he imagined Tony to look at Clint through his lashes while licking his lips and smirking.

Clint's eyes briefly flickered over to Steve, to make sure he was paying attention to them, and back to Tony. He worked his pants open and shoved them down his legs and off, unashamed of his body and the many scars crisscrossing it.

"Only when it's wrapped around my dick, so get to it, Stark," he grinned while lifting his lips slightly. One hand came up and tangled in the dark strands of hair at the back of Tony's neck.

Tony chuckled again, but he went obediently and wrapped his lips around Clint's dick, together with his fist, but Steve knew immediately that Tony wasn't planning on making this an easy affair.

He had something planned.

It quickly became obvious what exactly it was, because Tony would suck Clint enthusiastically, takin ghim deep and holding him there, his fingers playing expertly with Clint's balls and behind them, but as soon as Clint came close to orgasm, he would pull back or use one of his many tricks to ensure that Clitn would back away from the edge again. Clint would pant, moan, thrust his hips and swear, and although his fingers were clenched tight in Tony's hair, he didn't ry to force Tony into a rhythm.

He had obviously figured out Tony's game and was playing along, despite the fact that he was flushed with arousal and that his muscles were trembling with want and sweat was forming along his hairline.

Steve held his breath. He was leaning forwards now, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clutched together to stop himself - from reaching out to them, from taking his pencil and drawing them, from touching himself, he didn't know and he wasn't in any state to find out.

Tony eased away again, his spine bowing elegantly as he tugged his mouth away to lick - Steve couldn't quite see it, but he heard it, the slick touch of skin on skin, and his imagination provided him with the rest.

Clint gave his lips a quick lick and smirked at Steve, and Steve gained a new insight into his teammate: Clint enjoyed this game, the teasing, and he had no intention of stopping it anytime soon. He was petting Tony's hair softly as soon as he had regained enough of his composure to continue, and Tony swallowed him deep again, his throat working.

Steve sat transfixed and watched, again and again, how Toyn retreated, giving Clint the opportunity to catch his breath, to get away from the edge, and how Clint actually enjoyed the sweet torture. His own dick pressed tight against his fly, but he was hypnotized by Clint and Tony and unable to do as much as reaching down to relieve the pressure.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Clint groaned and dropped his chin against his chest.

"Yeah, okay," he grunted, the strain audible in his voice. "Okay."

Tony hummed softly, and Clint brushed his fingers through his hair once more before tightening his grip, his knuckles turning white from the strength he used.

Tony slurped him in and brought a hand up between Clint's thighs, out of sight of Steve's line of vision. Steve could feel a drop of sweat slowly sliding down the length ofh is own spine as he watched. He felt breathless, his chest cavity not expanding enough to bring oxygen into his lungs.

Tony chuckled roughly and stilled, every single muscles and fiber of his body turning immobile at the blink of an eye. Clint's spine arched, and he whined, a sound Steve had never heard from him, but nothing helped. Tony, who could outstubborn just about anyone if he set his mind to it, wouldn't budge an inch.

"Dammit, Stark, i won that bet," Clint finally rasped, his voice wrecked and his hips shifting impatiently. He sounded like gravel, Steve thought, and he thought he could hear the edge of a frustrated sob from the archer.

Steve knew that they wouldn't be able to go much further without turning their fun into something bad. Clint had reached the limit of what he considered comfortable; everything beyond this point was most likely to end in real tears and broken bones.

Steve shifted slightly in his seat, preparing to intervene if necessary, since he firmly believed that injuries should best be avoided, no matter where they happened, but Tony made a soothing, humming noise at the back of his throat and started to move again, and this time, he didn't stop.

He didn't stop until Clint shook and cried out, body curling in on himself as he came, and then he slowed down and finally pulled back with a lewd sound.

"I won this one," he announced.

Clint huffed and sprawled bonelessly against the cushions. "Fine," he murmured, not moving to put his clothes back in order. "You won. Fine. Your reward is..." he thought for a moment. "Steve," he then decided. "Let's see how long you last with his dick in you."

Steve didn't know if he should grin or flee as Tony climbed to his feet and came over to where he was sitting.

This, he thought, could be a lot of fun.

Tony probably wouldn't last long.


Steve wouldn't, either.
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