kathierif_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathierif_fic) wrote2012-08-30 12:01 am
kathierif_fic) wrote2012-08-30 12:01 am
Fic: On the (L)edge (MCU, Steve/Clint, FRAO)
Title: On the (L)edge
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic
Fandom: The Avengers (MCU)
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Clint Barton
Summary: “You wanted to see me?” Steve asked as he swung out of the window and onto the ledge Clint was perched on.
Disclaimer: Not mine, transformative fanwork.
A/Ns: for kink_bingo and the prompt “in public”.
“You wanted to see me?” Steve asked as he swung out of the window and onto the ledge Clint was perched on. It was, he thought, surprisingly roomy, with enough space for both of them to squat comfortably. Clint had been waiting for him here for quite some time now, if the rope lining the walls around the perch was an indicator. It was expertly anchored in the building’s walls, and Steve had to swallow at the sight.
He didn’t have any problems with height. He never had, but the last time he’d seen this kind of handiwork with rope, the Howling Commandos had prepared to attack a train, and he preferred not to remember how that had ended.
Clint smirked and reached up, to remove the comm from his ear and put it safely into one of the many pockets on his person. “I did,” he replied. “Come here.”
Steve found himself caught between wariness and trust, swaying slightly as the wind playfully tugged at his hair and his clothes.
“What…” he started, but Clint didn’t give him the chance to finish that thought and the question. He simply grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled, and Steve followed his guidance until he was between Clint’s legs, with one of Clint’s strong arms wrapped securely around his ribs and Clint’s warm breath in his ear. He shivered slightly, causing Clint to make a soft, soothing sound and tighten his grip for a split second.
“Why did you want to see me?” Steve asked, but he allowed himself to settle a little more firmly against the other man, knowing perfectly well what kind of muscles were hidden under the cargo pants and the SHIELD-issued jacket.
Clint chuckled. “Wanted to show you something,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, his lips brushing against sensitive skin. “But you’ve gotta let me. Will you let me, Steve?” Clint followed his words with a swipe of his agile tongue, sending another shiver up the length of Steve’s spine that had nothing to do with the wind but allowed Steve to get a good idea about what Clint wanted to show him.
It had nothing to do with the breathtaking view of Manhattan.
“Will you?” Clint asked again. “All you have to do is hold on tight, let me handle the rest, and trust me.”
Steve swallowed with some difficulty. His body was betraying him already, reacting to the way Clint was plastered against him. There was no doubt that he trusted Clint, but still…
“We shouldn’t,” he said shakily.
“Says who?” Clint’s arm dropped from around his chest to his lower abdomen, fingers trailing down across the front of Steve’s pants and cradling Steve’s genitals possessively.
“We’re still…” Steve swallowed thickly and licked his lips while forcing his hips to stay still. “We’re in public, Clint.” He could feel himself blush, his ears burning bright and hot.
Clint’s hand rubbed slightly between his legs. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Nobody’s paying any attention to us. This is New York, Steve. Nobody’s looking up – not as long as everybody’s phones are working. Promise.” He licked along the shell of Steve’s ear again, his tongue cool and arousing against his delicate and overheated flesh. “Come on. You know you want to try it.”
The thing was, he didn’t want to try it. It wasn’t proper to do this kind of thing in public, even when they were high up in the air and it was true that nobody knew that they were even here. This was something that was done in private, in bedrooms behind locked doors where there was no danger of anyone catching them in the act and making lewd comments about them, not that people like Tony Stark could be stopped from such remarks anyway. But here, outside, with the wind tugging at them and the noise from the street, the sounds from the traffic and the cars mostly, drifting up to them?
He didn’t want that.
Steve was smart enough to realize that everybody had a smartphone now, and that one cellphone picture of them engaging in this kind of activity would be enough to do some serious harm to their personal reputation and that of the entire Avengers Initiative, one picture and everything he had left in this modern, confusing time would be taken from him.
He didn’t want that.
Clint hummed and shifted his fingers again, and a sudden and very sharp spike of arousal shot through Steve and threatened to take his breath away. His dick pressed tight against the front of his pants, into the contact with Clint’s hand, and Steve hissed and clenched his own fingers around Clint’s wrist.
He knew he should demand that Clint removed his hand, and if he refused, he should break his wrist – all the delicate bones shifting under his tight grip, and Steve was strong enough to break every single one of them without breaking a sweat.
He should tell Clint to stop with the nonsense and get back inside, to his room where he was safe to do what he wanted, including wrapping his own hand around himself and pleasuring himself, imagining.
He didn’t need to imagine, a fuzzy thought reminded him. All he needed to do was to give in.
To take a risk.
To dare trusting that Clint knew what he was doing, that he was certain when he told Steve nobody ever looked up, that nobody would catch them here.
Clint hummed into his ear again. His hand moved, and the steady, dizzying pressure against Steve’s dick disappeared. Instead, those rough, calloused fingers closed around Steve’s wrist and guided his hand to the rope.
“Hold on,” Clint told him, and Steve’s fingers closed around the rope in a tight, white-knuckled grip. Clint guided his second hand to another piece of the rope, and then, he reached for Steve’s dick again and rubbed it through his khakis. His other hand dipped under his shirt and tugged the white undershirt from Steve’s waistband, to slide underneath and up to the muscled curve of his pecs.
“Relax,” Clint murmured. “Hang on and enjoy the ride.” His hand pressed fully against the thick length of Steve’s dick through the pants. The other one rubbed across his chest and caught a nipple between quick fingers.
Clint’s hand was chilled, and it was a sharp contrast to Steve’s warm skin.
He gasped and let his head fall back, trusting Clint to offer some sort of brace for his trembling body.
“That’s it,” Clint encouraged and licked a broad, warm stripe along Steve’s jaw. “Like that. Let go. Except your hands, you shouldn’t let those go, or we might both end up splattered on the pavement.”
Steve snorted, a sound caught halfway between amusement, lust and exasperation, and Clint stretched to reach his lips and kiss him, deep and wet and filthy in a way Steve’d only seen in France before, when war had made people reckless and desperate.
It was breathtaking. It was overwhelming.
It was not enough to distract Steve from the fact that Clint was busy unbuttoning his pants.
One-handed.
The other hand was still on his chest, teasing his nipple and sending tiny currents of electricity through Steve’s entire body, centering right there, where Clint was currently fighting with his zipper.
“Clint…” he managed to press out, the name a groan against Clint’s surprisingly soft lips. Steve was suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings – the wind, the noise from the street below them, the rasp of Clint’s stubble, the callouses on Clint’s fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against Steve’s back – and again, a cloud of doubt filled him and made him tense.
What if someone saw them?
Tony had surveillance cameras everywhere; why not here, on the outside of the building, as well?
The thought made him squirm. Sweat broke out along the line of his spine and prickled under his arms, his breath caught in his chest.
It felt like riding a rollercoaster, scary and exhilarating at the same time, but unlike a rollercoaster ride, he could stop this, right here, right now.
He should stop Clint from pushing his pants and underwear as much out of the way as he could in their current position, which wasn’t much, but enough to pull his dick free.
He should stop him from licking his palm, wetting it thoroughly, an wrapping it tight around Steve’s hard dick.
He should stop Clint’s thumb from pressing against that tender spot under the head and from rubbing over the crown, spreading precome and spit and smoothing his hand down toward the root as far as he could get.
He should stop this.
He didn’t.
Clint hummed quietly – a melody Steve didn’t recognize – and pressed his mouth against the side of Steve’s neck, teeth gently worrying the smooth skin there while one hand kept alternating between pinching Steve’s nipples and rubbing them and the other hand stroked along his dick, sending shockwave after shockwave of sensation through Steve’s entire body, building and building until he felt as if he’d been hit by lightning, his muscles tensing and his nerve endings tingling, almost there, almost ready, almost…
Clint pressed tight against him, and Steve imagined he could feel the hot line of Clint’s dick through the material separating skin from skin, and it made him shudder almost violently. Clint’s hand skirted down his chest and his quivering stomach, to cradle his balls and play softly with them, while his other hand focused on the slick crown of his dick.
It was too much. Steve couldn’t hold back.
He came in hot, slick spurts, drops splattering across his pants and over the ledge, and Steve remembered with a sudden sharp jolt that sent his heart racing where they were.
How exposed they were, here in public.
Shame filled him, red-hot, and mixed with the endorphins caused by his release, and the resulting mix of emotions was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It felt good and bad at the same time – Steve got a little dizzy trying to figure himself out.
Clint huffed a breathless laugh into his ear and lifted his hand to lick it clean. His breath still came in short gasps, and Steve shifted slightly back on burning thighs to press against the hard dick rubbing against his ass. He got rewarded with a strangled groan, hastily bitten back, so he did it again, and again, until Clint buried his face in Steve’s shoulder and bit down sharply, catching mostly the fabric of his shirt between his teeth.
“Steve,” he groaned, “Steve…”
Steve swallowed. With some difficulty, he stilled and removed his fingers from the rope – they were stiff and ached slightly from the force with which he’d hung on. He needed several attempts to do up his pants again, but no matter how clumsy his fingers, how weak his muscles and how tense he still felt, he managed.
“Come on,” he told Clint, his voice gruff and scratchy, as if he’d yelled for hours. “Let’s get back inside, and I’ll…” he blushed slightly. “I’ll repay the favor,” he finished.
Clint laughed. His eyes were half-closed, he’d bitten his lip and his hair was sticking up as if Steve had grabbed it. “You don’t want to fuck out here?” he asked with a teasing tilt to his head and got easily to his feet. “You know, we could climb up a few levels, do it against eh wall of Tony’s office.”
Steve shuddered. He didn’t know if it was a fresh wave of arousal or disgust that caused the reaction, but since Clint was already on his way to the balcony and the open window from which he’d come, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and started to follow the other man.
Tony’s office was always an option for another day. Maybe, if he had enough time to get used to the thought, he could let Clint persuade to try it out.
~end
By:
kathierif_ficFandom: The Avengers (MCU)
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Clint Barton
Summary: “You wanted to see me?” Steve asked as he swung out of the window and onto the ledge Clint was perched on.
Disclaimer: Not mine, transformative fanwork.
A/Ns: for kink_bingo and the prompt “in public”.
“You wanted to see me?” Steve asked as he swung out of the window and onto the ledge Clint was perched on. It was, he thought, surprisingly roomy, with enough space for both of them to squat comfortably. Clint had been waiting for him here for quite some time now, if the rope lining the walls around the perch was an indicator. It was expertly anchored in the building’s walls, and Steve had to swallow at the sight.
He didn’t have any problems with height. He never had, but the last time he’d seen this kind of handiwork with rope, the Howling Commandos had prepared to attack a train, and he preferred not to remember how that had ended.
Clint smirked and reached up, to remove the comm from his ear and put it safely into one of the many pockets on his person. “I did,” he replied. “Come here.”
Steve found himself caught between wariness and trust, swaying slightly as the wind playfully tugged at his hair and his clothes.
“What…” he started, but Clint didn’t give him the chance to finish that thought and the question. He simply grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled, and Steve followed his guidance until he was between Clint’s legs, with one of Clint’s strong arms wrapped securely around his ribs and Clint’s warm breath in his ear. He shivered slightly, causing Clint to make a soft, soothing sound and tighten his grip for a split second.
“Why did you want to see me?” Steve asked, but he allowed himself to settle a little more firmly against the other man, knowing perfectly well what kind of muscles were hidden under the cargo pants and the SHIELD-issued jacket.
Clint chuckled. “Wanted to show you something,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, his lips brushing against sensitive skin. “But you’ve gotta let me. Will you let me, Steve?” Clint followed his words with a swipe of his agile tongue, sending another shiver up the length of Steve’s spine that had nothing to do with the wind but allowed Steve to get a good idea about what Clint wanted to show him.
It had nothing to do with the breathtaking view of Manhattan.
“Will you?” Clint asked again. “All you have to do is hold on tight, let me handle the rest, and trust me.”
Steve swallowed with some difficulty. His body was betraying him already, reacting to the way Clint was plastered against him. There was no doubt that he trusted Clint, but still…
“We shouldn’t,” he said shakily.
“Says who?” Clint’s arm dropped from around his chest to his lower abdomen, fingers trailing down across the front of Steve’s pants and cradling Steve’s genitals possessively.
“We’re still…” Steve swallowed thickly and licked his lips while forcing his hips to stay still. “We’re in public, Clint.” He could feel himself blush, his ears burning bright and hot.
Clint’s hand rubbed slightly between his legs. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Nobody’s paying any attention to us. This is New York, Steve. Nobody’s looking up – not as long as everybody’s phones are working. Promise.” He licked along the shell of Steve’s ear again, his tongue cool and arousing against his delicate and overheated flesh. “Come on. You know you want to try it.”
The thing was, he didn’t want to try it. It wasn’t proper to do this kind of thing in public, even when they were high up in the air and it was true that nobody knew that they were even here. This was something that was done in private, in bedrooms behind locked doors where there was no danger of anyone catching them in the act and making lewd comments about them, not that people like Tony Stark could be stopped from such remarks anyway. But here, outside, with the wind tugging at them and the noise from the street, the sounds from the traffic and the cars mostly, drifting up to them?
He didn’t want that.
Steve was smart enough to realize that everybody had a smartphone now, and that one cellphone picture of them engaging in this kind of activity would be enough to do some serious harm to their personal reputation and that of the entire Avengers Initiative, one picture and everything he had left in this modern, confusing time would be taken from him.
He didn’t want that.
Clint hummed and shifted his fingers again, and a sudden and very sharp spike of arousal shot through Steve and threatened to take his breath away. His dick pressed tight against the front of his pants, into the contact with Clint’s hand, and Steve hissed and clenched his own fingers around Clint’s wrist.
He knew he should demand that Clint removed his hand, and if he refused, he should break his wrist – all the delicate bones shifting under his tight grip, and Steve was strong enough to break every single one of them without breaking a sweat.
He should tell Clint to stop with the nonsense and get back inside, to his room where he was safe to do what he wanted, including wrapping his own hand around himself and pleasuring himself, imagining.
He didn’t need to imagine, a fuzzy thought reminded him. All he needed to do was to give in.
To take a risk.
To dare trusting that Clint knew what he was doing, that he was certain when he told Steve nobody ever looked up, that nobody would catch them here.
Clint hummed into his ear again. His hand moved, and the steady, dizzying pressure against Steve’s dick disappeared. Instead, those rough, calloused fingers closed around Steve’s wrist and guided his hand to the rope.
“Hold on,” Clint told him, and Steve’s fingers closed around the rope in a tight, white-knuckled grip. Clint guided his second hand to another piece of the rope, and then, he reached for Steve’s dick again and rubbed it through his khakis. His other hand dipped under his shirt and tugged the white undershirt from Steve’s waistband, to slide underneath and up to the muscled curve of his pecs.
“Relax,” Clint murmured. “Hang on and enjoy the ride.” His hand pressed fully against the thick length of Steve’s dick through the pants. The other one rubbed across his chest and caught a nipple between quick fingers.
Clint’s hand was chilled, and it was a sharp contrast to Steve’s warm skin.
He gasped and let his head fall back, trusting Clint to offer some sort of brace for his trembling body.
“That’s it,” Clint encouraged and licked a broad, warm stripe along Steve’s jaw. “Like that. Let go. Except your hands, you shouldn’t let those go, or we might both end up splattered on the pavement.”
Steve snorted, a sound caught halfway between amusement, lust and exasperation, and Clint stretched to reach his lips and kiss him, deep and wet and filthy in a way Steve’d only seen in France before, when war had made people reckless and desperate.
It was breathtaking. It was overwhelming.
It was not enough to distract Steve from the fact that Clint was busy unbuttoning his pants.
One-handed.
The other hand was still on his chest, teasing his nipple and sending tiny currents of electricity through Steve’s entire body, centering right there, where Clint was currently fighting with his zipper.
“Clint…” he managed to press out, the name a groan against Clint’s surprisingly soft lips. Steve was suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings – the wind, the noise from the street below them, the rasp of Clint’s stubble, the callouses on Clint’s fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against Steve’s back – and again, a cloud of doubt filled him and made him tense.
What if someone saw them?
Tony had surveillance cameras everywhere; why not here, on the outside of the building, as well?
The thought made him squirm. Sweat broke out along the line of his spine and prickled under his arms, his breath caught in his chest.
It felt like riding a rollercoaster, scary and exhilarating at the same time, but unlike a rollercoaster ride, he could stop this, right here, right now.
He should stop Clint from pushing his pants and underwear as much out of the way as he could in their current position, which wasn’t much, but enough to pull his dick free.
He should stop him from licking his palm, wetting it thoroughly, an wrapping it tight around Steve’s hard dick.
He should stop Clint’s thumb from pressing against that tender spot under the head and from rubbing over the crown, spreading precome and spit and smoothing his hand down toward the root as far as he could get.
He should stop this.
He didn’t.
Clint hummed quietly – a melody Steve didn’t recognize – and pressed his mouth against the side of Steve’s neck, teeth gently worrying the smooth skin there while one hand kept alternating between pinching Steve’s nipples and rubbing them and the other hand stroked along his dick, sending shockwave after shockwave of sensation through Steve’s entire body, building and building until he felt as if he’d been hit by lightning, his muscles tensing and his nerve endings tingling, almost there, almost ready, almost…
Clint pressed tight against him, and Steve imagined he could feel the hot line of Clint’s dick through the material separating skin from skin, and it made him shudder almost violently. Clint’s hand skirted down his chest and his quivering stomach, to cradle his balls and play softly with them, while his other hand focused on the slick crown of his dick.
It was too much. Steve couldn’t hold back.
He came in hot, slick spurts, drops splattering across his pants and over the ledge, and Steve remembered with a sudden sharp jolt that sent his heart racing where they were.
How exposed they were, here in public.
Shame filled him, red-hot, and mixed with the endorphins caused by his release, and the resulting mix of emotions was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It felt good and bad at the same time – Steve got a little dizzy trying to figure himself out.
Clint huffed a breathless laugh into his ear and lifted his hand to lick it clean. His breath still came in short gasps, and Steve shifted slightly back on burning thighs to press against the hard dick rubbing against his ass. He got rewarded with a strangled groan, hastily bitten back, so he did it again, and again, until Clint buried his face in Steve’s shoulder and bit down sharply, catching mostly the fabric of his shirt between his teeth.
“Steve,” he groaned, “Steve…”
Steve swallowed. With some difficulty, he stilled and removed his fingers from the rope – they were stiff and ached slightly from the force with which he’d hung on. He needed several attempts to do up his pants again, but no matter how clumsy his fingers, how weak his muscles and how tense he still felt, he managed.
“Come on,” he told Clint, his voice gruff and scratchy, as if he’d yelled for hours. “Let’s get back inside, and I’ll…” he blushed slightly. “I’ll repay the favor,” he finished.
Clint laughed. His eyes were half-closed, he’d bitten his lip and his hair was sticking up as if Steve had grabbed it. “You don’t want to fuck out here?” he asked with a teasing tilt to his head and got easily to his feet. “You know, we could climb up a few levels, do it against eh wall of Tony’s office.”
Steve shuddered. He didn’t know if it was a fresh wave of arousal or disgust that caused the reaction, but since Clint was already on his way to the balcony and the open window from which he’d come, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and started to follow the other man.
Tony’s office was always an option for another day. Maybe, if he had enough time to get used to the thought, he could let Clint persuade to try it out.
~end