So it's been a lot longer since the last instalment that I thought it would be. The next long one is pretty much finished but it sucks majorly. I am rewriting it, but no clue on when it will be done, so have this instead :)
The first time Clint dropped to his knees at Bruce's feet – the first time he did it lucid, sane, happy, completely in his right mind, and even in a good mood, at any rate- the breath caught in Bruce's throat and his hands shook. The trust in the gesture... Bruce wasn't sure how to deal with that. He had never really been trusted like this, not in his entire life. Not even before The Other Guy showed up. He'd had people trust him on a basic, surface level, and he knew the team trusted him in a fight, but this...
This was real trust. This was Clint making himself vulnerable, despite what Bruce was. Despite what Bruce could do to him.
Bruce knew he wasn't a nice person. And the thoughts that went through his head as he studied Clint kneeling there, they weren't nice thoughts.
Clint wouldn't stand a chance.
"Hey," he said, reaching a hand out to run his fingers through Clint's rough sandy hair. "Hey." He tugged a little and Clint made a noise, and some of the tension leeched out of him.
There was a rumble in the back of his head, in his hind-brain, where his darker impulses lived. Clint would let him do anything. He was say thank you afterwards.
Then a switch flipped.
Clint would let him do anything. Clint trusted him. He trusted him enough to put himself at Bruce's mercy. Despite everything he knew about Bruce and Bruce's issues.
His chest felt tight and he found himself swallowing harshly.
"Hey," he said again. "What do you need?"
"I... please..." Clint said, then bit his lip and dropped his head.
"Okay," Bruce said, getting it. "Okay." He tightened his fingers in Clint's hair and promised himself he would never do anything that would make Clint regret doing this.
The first time Clint dropped to his knees in front of Bruce- the first time he did it sober and sane and in his right mind, anyway- his heart was in his throat. He was tempted to make a joke, to snark and smirk and pretend it was all a game. But he trusted Bruce. He did. And he wanted... he wanted to be held and petted and called a Good Boy and held down and made to feel. He wanted kisses in bed and a hand in his hair. He wanted...he wanted. For the first time in a very long time he wanted and he knew he wanted and he was free and able to act on those wants.
He knew he was fucked up. He knew asking Bruce to do this wasn't fair. He knew normal people didn't feel the way he felt, didn't act the way he acted.
"Hey," Bruce said. "Hey," and he put his fingers in Clint's hair and tugged setting off electric currents of sensation underneath his skin. He closed his eyes. Yeah. that's what he wanted.
He let himself sink, knowing Bruce would catch him.
"Hey," Bruce said, tugging a little harder. "What do you need?"
And that was... it wasn't fair. Clint didn't... he couldn't...
That was the whole point!
"I... please..." he said, helpless, unable to explain.
But Bruce, Bruce got it.
"Okay. Okay." He tightened his fingers in Clint's hair, and Clint let himself moan. He could relax. He didn't have to think. That was Bruce's job, for now. he didn't have to make decisions. He just had to let himself drift.
And enjoy.