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kathierif_ficTitle: Asimov never imagined this
by: kathierif_fic
Fandom: Avengers/MCU
Pairing: implied Bruce/Clint/Natasha, Bruce/robots
Rating: FRM
Summary: Surprisingly, it's not Tony Stark who gets off on the thought of robot sex. It's Bruce.
A/N: for mechanical/technological on the kink-bingo :)
"Dude," Clint says when he drops down on the couch close enouch for Bruce to immediately feel his body heat, even through the layers of their clothes, "this is what we're watching?" His eyebrows are rising, as if he can't believe what he's seeing, and he's seen quite a lot in the past few months.
Catching one of his teammates watch porn on the big living room tv is definitely something that is approaching normal for them in these days, and Clint quietly watches the screen for a few minutes before asking, "So, what exactly about this one?"
His voice is carefully neutral, a hint of curiosity shining through, and Bruce shrugs. He could lie, but he doesn't really see the advantage of it, besides, if he answers, Clint might shut up and let him enjoy the movie.
"The robotics," he admits. "The sex bots."
Clint makes a thoughtful noise as he tilts his head sideways and considers Bruce's answer. It's enough to make Bruce's skin itch.
"When I saw it for the first time," he admits, his eyes carefully trained on the screen, "I just wanted to figure out how the robots are supposed to work. Since the Other Guy..." he blushes and shrugs slightly.
"You know," Clint says slowly, "that sounds..."
"...plausible," Natasha ends for him as she slides onto the couch on Bruce's other side.
"It does?" Bruce asks.
"Yeah," Natasha replies.
Bruce's attention is split now between the two bodies surrounding him and the movie, where a helpless woman is now caught between the two very male sex robots, being taken from both sides. It's one of Bruce's favourite scenes, and he waits until it is over before glancing at Natasha.
"Robots," she simply says, as if she knows exactly what he's thinking. Considering that this is Natasha, the Black Widow, Bruce doesn't want to exclude the possibility that she does. She's smart enough and she knows them all well enough.
Clint hums again and shifts closer, his hand landing carefully on Bruce's thigh.
"It wouldn't matter if you accidentally lose control," he murmurs softly, his fingers brushing against the inside of Bruce's thigh. "Not if it's a robot. Something that is fixable. Something that doesn't get killed, per se, if the Other Guy makes an appearance."
Bruce takes a deep breath and holds it for a long moment before exhaling slowly.
"Imagine that," Natasha takes over. "One of them behind you, bending you over and holding you down, Bruce, a big strong hand pressing you down."
Bruce's eyes flicker over to her, and Natasha smirks and puts her own hand on his thigh, higher up than Clint.
"Fucking you," Clint takes over smoothly. "Precise rhythm, not letting up, no matter how much you beg. Imagine you're in her place." He nods toward the tv again.
"Just a little too fast, a little too hard," Natasha adds, and she's quoting his favorite fantasy as if she's reading it right out of his brain. "Not slowing down, no matter how much you squirm."
"And the second one," Clint murmurs. His mouth is suddenly close enough to Bruce's ear that Bruce can feel his breath against his skin.
Goosebumps start to form on his forearms. He can feel his heartrate pick up, can feel his breathing go a little faster at the mental pictures the two people around him paint for him.
"The hand on your back would be cold at first," Clint murmurs. "And slowly warm up, but you would still shiver where it touches you, just because you know it's cold steel and metal over you."
"And there would be the second one," Natasha murmurs and scratches her nails up the fabric of Bruce's pants, until she's almost at the top of his thigh, the heat of Bruce's half-hard dick just inches away from her hand.
"Tastes of silicone, you know, where it pushes into your mouth, thick fat dildo that makes your jaw ache," and Bruce doesn't care anymore about proper sentence structure, only about the mental image of a thick dick in his mouth, almost making him gag, and one fucking into his ass at a steady pace, and he can feel his body shiver and tremble at the thought.
Robots who don't feel remorse or pain, who can go on for hours if he programs them that way, the same steady pace while driving him more and more insane with sensation, with overstimulation and arousal until he's all worn out and the world goes soft around the edges with satisfaction and exhaustion.
"Guys," he murmurs, his voice breaking halfway through. "Stop, before..."
Natasha's fingers still almost immediately, and Clint hums softly, rubs his hand in gentle circles against Bruce's back until he thinks he has himself and the Other Guy a little better under control.
"A hulkproofed room, two robots, that's all we would need," Natasha says thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed as she watches Bruce's face for a hint of green, or maybe just to see him blush and struggle to keep his breathing even.
"Yeah," Clint adds and scratches the back of his neck before grinning. "Stark is an engineer. We can ask him to whip something up."
"A sex toy, controlled by JARVIS?" Natasha nods. "With JARVIS' intelligence, and some external input...like from you and me, while we're at a safe distance in case the Other Guy shows up to the party?"
"What do you think, Bruce?" Clint says. "Would you like to try that?"
Bruce swallows. He counts his breathing, tries to slow it down, tries to lower his heart rate with several of the techniques he's learned over the years, but no matter what he does, he can feel his control slip.
"Excuse me," he gasps and struggles to sit, then stand. "Have to go."
He flees the room, too scared to hulk out and accidentally hurt the two of them and too aware that Natasha's still weary of the Other Guy, intent to remove himself from the situation and restore his calm while his treacherous body yearns and aches at the thought of...
...of that.
Of letting go of his control, letting a machine fuck him and just enjoying the stretch and burn, the way he did when he was young, before the Other Guy, when he could still have sex without the constant fear of an unwanted, green interruption.
He wants that, he decides while sliding down the wall and sitting down, his hands pressed into his eyes and his breathing still carefully counted out. He wants it.
Maybe talking to Tony about building it would be a great idea...
by: kathierif_fic
Fandom: Avengers/MCU
Pairing: implied Bruce/Clint/Natasha, Bruce/robots
Rating: FRM
Summary: Surprisingly, it's not Tony Stark who gets off on the thought of robot sex. It's Bruce.
A/N: for mechanical/technological on the kink-bingo :)
"Dude," Clint says when he drops down on the couch close enouch for Bruce to immediately feel his body heat, even through the layers of their clothes, "this is what we're watching?" His eyebrows are rising, as if he can't believe what he's seeing, and he's seen quite a lot in the past few months.
Catching one of his teammates watch porn on the big living room tv is definitely something that is approaching normal for them in these days, and Clint quietly watches the screen for a few minutes before asking, "So, what exactly about this one?"
His voice is carefully neutral, a hint of curiosity shining through, and Bruce shrugs. He could lie, but he doesn't really see the advantage of it, besides, if he answers, Clint might shut up and let him enjoy the movie.
"The robotics," he admits. "The sex bots."
Clint makes a thoughtful noise as he tilts his head sideways and considers Bruce's answer. It's enough to make Bruce's skin itch.
"When I saw it for the first time," he admits, his eyes carefully trained on the screen, "I just wanted to figure out how the robots are supposed to work. Since the Other Guy..." he blushes and shrugs slightly.
"You know," Clint says slowly, "that sounds..."
"...plausible," Natasha ends for him as she slides onto the couch on Bruce's other side.
"It does?" Bruce asks.
"Yeah," Natasha replies.
Bruce's attention is split now between the two bodies surrounding him and the movie, where a helpless woman is now caught between the two very male sex robots, being taken from both sides. It's one of Bruce's favourite scenes, and he waits until it is over before glancing at Natasha.
"Robots," she simply says, as if she knows exactly what he's thinking. Considering that this is Natasha, the Black Widow, Bruce doesn't want to exclude the possibility that she does. She's smart enough and she knows them all well enough.
Clint hums again and shifts closer, his hand landing carefully on Bruce's thigh.
"It wouldn't matter if you accidentally lose control," he murmurs softly, his fingers brushing against the inside of Bruce's thigh. "Not if it's a robot. Something that is fixable. Something that doesn't get killed, per se, if the Other Guy makes an appearance."
Bruce takes a deep breath and holds it for a long moment before exhaling slowly.
"Imagine that," Natasha takes over. "One of them behind you, bending you over and holding you down, Bruce, a big strong hand pressing you down."
Bruce's eyes flicker over to her, and Natasha smirks and puts her own hand on his thigh, higher up than Clint.
"Fucking you," Clint takes over smoothly. "Precise rhythm, not letting up, no matter how much you beg. Imagine you're in her place." He nods toward the tv again.
"Just a little too fast, a little too hard," Natasha adds, and she's quoting his favorite fantasy as if she's reading it right out of his brain. "Not slowing down, no matter how much you squirm."
"And the second one," Clint murmurs. His mouth is suddenly close enough to Bruce's ear that Bruce can feel his breath against his skin.
Goosebumps start to form on his forearms. He can feel his heartrate pick up, can feel his breathing go a little faster at the mental pictures the two people around him paint for him.
"The hand on your back would be cold at first," Clint murmurs. "And slowly warm up, but you would still shiver where it touches you, just because you know it's cold steel and metal over you."
"And there would be the second one," Natasha murmurs and scratches her nails up the fabric of Bruce's pants, until she's almost at the top of his thigh, the heat of Bruce's half-hard dick just inches away from her hand.
"Tastes of silicone, you know, where it pushes into your mouth, thick fat dildo that makes your jaw ache," and Bruce doesn't care anymore about proper sentence structure, only about the mental image of a thick dick in his mouth, almost making him gag, and one fucking into his ass at a steady pace, and he can feel his body shiver and tremble at the thought.
Robots who don't feel remorse or pain, who can go on for hours if he programs them that way, the same steady pace while driving him more and more insane with sensation, with overstimulation and arousal until he's all worn out and the world goes soft around the edges with satisfaction and exhaustion.
"Guys," he murmurs, his voice breaking halfway through. "Stop, before..."
Natasha's fingers still almost immediately, and Clint hums softly, rubs his hand in gentle circles against Bruce's back until he thinks he has himself and the Other Guy a little better under control.
"A hulkproofed room, two robots, that's all we would need," Natasha says thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed as she watches Bruce's face for a hint of green, or maybe just to see him blush and struggle to keep his breathing even.
"Yeah," Clint adds and scratches the back of his neck before grinning. "Stark is an engineer. We can ask him to whip something up."
"A sex toy, controlled by JARVIS?" Natasha nods. "With JARVIS' intelligence, and some external input...like from you and me, while we're at a safe distance in case the Other Guy shows up to the party?"
"What do you think, Bruce?" Clint says. "Would you like to try that?"
Bruce swallows. He counts his breathing, tries to slow it down, tries to lower his heart rate with several of the techniques he's learned over the years, but no matter what he does, he can feel his control slip.
"Excuse me," he gasps and struggles to sit, then stand. "Have to go."
He flees the room, too scared to hulk out and accidentally hurt the two of them and too aware that Natasha's still weary of the Other Guy, intent to remove himself from the situation and restore his calm while his treacherous body yearns and aches at the thought of...
...of that.
Of letting go of his control, letting a machine fuck him and just enjoying the stretch and burn, the way he did when he was young, before the Other Guy, when he could still have sex without the constant fear of an unwanted, green interruption.
He wants that, he decides while sliding down the wall and sitting down, his hands pressed into his eyes and his breathing still carefully counted out. He wants it.
Maybe talking to Tony about building it would be a great idea...