**Disclaimer: I own nothing beyond the scenarios my twisted little brain spits out. All characters contained within belong to bigger and better entities than I. Please do not sue, as I own literally nothing beyond the clothes on my back. Also, grammar and tense sometimes escape me, so please, be kind.**
Clint sighed wearily as he signed his name at the bottom of yet another long overdue case report. He placed it atop the 'finished' pile and allowed himself a slight smile at the thought of being that much closer to heading home.
Then he made the mistake of turning his gaze to the remaining stack of paperwork, and his smile faded.
He'd told Fury early on that paperwork wasn't his strong point. Hell, he'd been an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for two months before he even knew he had a desk. By the point, his in box had already held nearly foot of unfiled reports.
And it hadn't gotten any smaller over the years.
Grumbling, the archer pulled another sheaf of papers from the impressive stack and flipped through them before scrawling his name on the dotted line.
An hour later, Clint leaned back in his chair and ground his palms against his aching eyes. He'd made a slight dent in the mountain before him, but not nearly enough of one to justify leaving for the day.
Fury had finally called him out on the incomplete status of his paperwork; threatening to sideline him until each and every report was read over, signed and filed. And while Clint normally enjoyed poking the old, one-eyed bear, he knew this was a battle he couldn't win.
So he'd sullenly complied.
But now it was closing in on 10 p.m. and he was tired of the bureaucratic repetition. He was irritated, hungry and, truth be told, bored out of his skull. And the fact that there wasn't really an end in sight didn't do much to improve his mood.
"You brought this on yourself, jackass," he growled, plucking another report off the pile. "So man up and deal with it."
Twenty mind-numbing minutes crawled by before Clint's phone buzzed, startling him. He scooped it up and peered at the message emblazoned across the screen; 'New text from Loki,' it read.
"Crap," Clint muttered as he thumbed the 'view' button.
'You are late,' it read, and he could almost feel the disapproval in those three short words.
'Yeah, sorry,' he replied. 'Got held up at work.'
A moment later and screen lit up again. 'I grow weary of waiting.'
'And I grow weary of working. But this job ain't gonna do itself...'
Several long minutes passed before the phone buzzed again, and this time the text held an attached picture. It was an image of Loki, bare-chested and comfortably sprawled across their dark sheets, his eyes glittering with thinly veiled lust. The accompanying message was curt.
'Come home.'
Clint stared at the picture a moment longer before replying, 'I want to…believe me, there's nowhere I'd rather be right now. But I've got things that need doing.'
'And I am not one of those things?'
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Clint grumbled before quickly typing out a reply.
'You're not a thing, Princess. And when I get home, I'll be more than happy to do whatever you want. But for now? I have to work."
The silence stretched out until Clint was half convinced that Loki wasn't going to respond. Just as he moved to set the phone aside, it buzzed.
'Fine,' the message read, 'then I will simply have to start without you.'
Clint's mind flooded with the mental image of Loki spread out on their bed; the black sheets making him seem all the more pale as those long, slender fingers that Clint loved so much stroked and squeezed his hardened flesh. He could almost hear the sounds issuing from the god's slack mouth; little whimpers and whines as his hands worked busily.
'You wouldn't,' the archer finally typed out. 'After all, haven't you said that doing it yourself is a poor substitute?'
He hit send and tried to ignore the dull ache rising in his groin, but his traitorous mind continued to supply him with scene after scene of Loki touching himself, his back arching as he spilled wet heat across his flat belly.
His phone vibrated, and Clint eagerly thumbed the 'view' button.
'I have other means to pleasure myself,' the message read. 'Why on Earth would I resort to something as mundane as masturbation?'
Clint blinked in confusion, puzzling over Loki's words before the meaning became clear. His jaw clenched then, and he swore quietly, knowing that the god was trying to push his buttons, but powerless to do anything about it.
'Don't you fucking dare,' he replied. 'That's not playing fair and you KNOW it!'
Clint pushed away from the desk and leaned back in his chair. He turned his gaze to the ceiling and huffed out an unamused breath, fighting the urge to fling his phone against the nearest wall.
But then that insistent buzz sounded yet again, and his curiosity got the best of him. His eyes widened at the attached picture, and the first thing that hit him was the sheer amount of pale skin on display.
The second was the proliferation of slender hands playing across Loki's torso; all so very familiar, and yet so foreign when multiplied.
He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.
The phone vibrated, delivering the final death stroke to the archer's work ethic in the form of a long shot photo of one very nude Norse god, draped across the bed and flanked on either side by two picture perfect clones.
"Perhaps this is enough to entice you into returning home?'
Clint voiced a frustrated groan before quickly typing out a reply.
'You can start without me, but you'd damn well better not finish. I'll be home in 25 minutes.'
He made it in 18; screeching into his assigned parking space in the apartment building's garage and running for the elevator. He jabbed the button insistently until the doors slid open before him, and then fidgeted all the way to their floor with the images of what he was missing dancing through his head.
Kicking the apartment door closed behind him, Clint quickly stripped his shirt off as he headed for the bedroom. He toed out of his boots while on the move, nearly stumbling in his eagerness, and then he pulled up short in the doorway, his mouth suddenly too dry to properly form words.
And for as much as he wanted to dive into the middle of the scene before him, he also hungered to just watch.
It wasn't often that he got to see Loki in this light.
Or from this angle.
And he'd certainly never seen him like this; astride a carbon copy of himself while taking another of his clones down his greedy throat.
Clint leaned against the doorjamb, thumbing open the button on his pants as he breathed in the scent of sex that hung heavily over the room. He circled his hand around his aching length, and a small groan escaped him, drawing Loki's attention.
The god's eyes slid to meet Clint's locked on stare, and he narrowed his eyes slightly before pulling off of the clone's cock with a hard suck.
"Finally," Loki murmured. "We've been waiting."
"Doesn't look like it from where I'm standing," Clint replied.
"There are several definitions of the word, my Hawk. We may not have waited for you to start," the god allowed. "But I assure you we were waiting nonetheless."
"Yeah? And what exactly were you waiting for?" Clint questioned as he watched Loki's hips lazily roll to meet every thrust of the clone beneath him.
"Why, this, of course," Loki moaned.
He tensed then, back arching as he hissed out a pained breath from between clenched teeth. And with no further warning, the god came; his cock jumping untouched as he painted the shade beneath him in burning streaks of lust. The clone at his side leaned in and captured Loki's mouth in a harsh kiss even as his hand dropped to grip the god's length, stroking slowly and coaxing him through the tail end of his orgasm.
Clint was silent for a long moment, taking in every shuddering motion before him and committing it to memory; fixing the image firmly in his mind.
"Well, goddamn Princess," he finally breathed. "Looks like you're all done before I could even get my pants off. Dunno if I should be offended or impressed."
"Hardly," Loki answered in a wry tone and rolled his head to the side to smirk at the archer. "I've barely even begun."
With that, the god turned his gaze to the clone under him, leaning down until he was hovering just above the other's chest. He nipped at that familiar jaw line before he licked over his doppelganger's mouth, and then grasped his chin between thumb and forefinger. Two sets of identical lips brushed against one another as Loki murmured, "Come."
The shade's hips snapped up, immediately complying with his Master's command, and Clint could see the pulse of release running through the thick flesh filling his god. Loki gave a pleased hum as he was filled to overflowing before he slowly pulled free and stretched out on the bed next to the still panting double.
The archer's brows drew together and he cocked his head curiously. "Didn't think your clones could come," he remarked.
"Just something new I worked out," Loki grinned. "I know how much you enjoy a good mess."
"Aren't you generous?" Clint smirked.
"I certainly can be," Loki allowed. "Which is why I saved the best part for after your arrival."
"You know I don't always like surprises," Clint said hesitantly as he slipped out of his pants. "They make me a little nervous."
"I have no doubt that you will appreciate this one," Loki soothed.
"Yeah, I seem to remember you saying that last time, too," Clint replied in a pointed tone.
"Yes, well…even I can sometimes be mistaken," the god allowed.
"Holy shit," Clint chuckled. "Can I get that in writing?"
"No," Loki responded quickly. "But I will show you what you can have…"
The dim light of the room was suddenly gilded in a brilliant, green glow and Clint's eyes widened in realization.
"Ok, yeah," he murmured. "This is one I like."
A soft, lilting laugh issued from Loki's throat as she rolled to her knees, beckoning the archer closer.
"But of course you do," she cooed, catching her plump lower lip between even white teeth and giving him a coy look. "You've often said that you would never share me with another. But what of myself?"
"That I can do," Clint growled, stepping to the edge of the bed and sliding one hand to fist in Loki's mane of ebony waves. He tilted her head back and crushed his mouth to hers, groaning at the slight taste of the clone still lingering on her tongue.
Loki returned the kiss as she pressed herself tight against the archer, placing one slender hand on his chest to feel the thunder of his heart. When they parted, both gasping for breath, she shone that familiar gamine grin his way and nodded toward the reclining clone, patiently awaiting orders.
"Shall we?" she whispered, stroking her fingertips down Clint's chest to tease over his aching length.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, and released his hold on Loki's hair.
That lilting laugh sounded again, and the goddess turned to crawl across the bed and once more straddle her clone. Clint tilted his head and watched her go, swallowing hard at the sight of her so eager to be filled. She rose up, arching her back and reaching down to guide the shade's thick flesh between her thighs, moaning brokenly as he breached her body.
Clint suddenly realized that he could smell her arousal. That unique scent told him all he needed to know about the depth of her hunger, and his cock twitched in interest.
The clone on the far side of the room circled the bed, then, and knelt before the archer, his brows drawing together in a pleading, questioning look. Clint nodded in response, his gaze sliding back to Loki as his length was encased in sudden heat. Biting back a groan, Clint braced himself as the copy took him deeper and began to swallow, the muscles of its throat tightening around the head of his cock.
The archer circled his fingers around the nape of the clone's neck, steadying himself as he gave a tentative thrust of his hips. He swore lightly before taking up a languid rhythm; fucking deeper into that wet heat as he watched Loki carefully.
If he was being honest, the clone thing always threw him a bit. He knew that they were just extensions of Loki himself, and he was very aware that what one copy felt was transferred to Loki as well…but that didn't make it any less strange.
Sure, they were mirror images of Loki, but somehow Clint always knew which god was his.
And his god was the only thing he really wanted; the only one that held the power to truly satisfy him.
Clint watched as Loki braced her hands against the chest of the clone beneath her, gaining the leverage she needed to lift her hips before letting gravity drag her back down. She whimpered as she took him deep, and then rose again to repeat the motion. The archer's fingertips bit into the flesh of the Loki kneeling before him, and he felt the tension building in his belly. The goddess's little noises of need were tearing down Clint's restraint, bit by bit, and as his gaze slid over the rounded curves of her body, he was suddenly desperate to be inside her.
As if she could read his thoughts, Loki's lust hazed eyes turned his way. That mouth Clint loved so much curved into a knowing smile, and she bent low over her clone, tilting her ass up prettily before asking in a husky tone, "Are you going to fuck me, my Hawk? Or were you planning on simply watching?"
"Oh, I'm planning on doing a lot more than just watching," Clint rasped.
"That certainly sounds promising. But I cannot see how you could accomplish such from your current position," she teased.
Clint pulled free from the shade kneeling before him, climbed onto the bed and slid in tight behind the goddess, stroking one hand up her sharply arched spine. He drank in the breathy sigh she voiced at his feather-light touch, and grinned as he plunged his fingers into her hair, gripping firmly and tugging her head back. Her sigh stuttered and swelled into a moan, and the archer leaned in to nip the shell of her ear before growling out, "This position a little better?"
"Yes," Loki gasped, rocking back to grind her ass against Clint's straining length. "Now fill me up. I've been waiting for far too long, and my need is great."
The archer pushed his hips forward as he gave another tug to Loki's hair. "Where do you want me, Princess?" he asked in a low, deadly tone. "You want me to fuck that gorgeous ass of yours? Or would you rather see if you've got room in that pretty little pussy for me, too?"
Loki stilled beneath him, and a quiet, "Oh…" slipped from her suddenly slack mouth.
Clint slipped his free hand down to ghost over her clit before asking, "Which is it gonna be? Tell me what you want most, Loki…and I'll give it to you."
The goddess shuddered, canting her hips to try and press more firmly against Clint's fingers, seeking the friction she so badly craved. He moved with her, keeping the pressure constant, and just this side of too little.
"C'mon, Princess," Clint urged. "This is no time to play shy. Tell me."
Loki ground against him once more, turning her head to glance back over her shoulder as she whimpered, "I wish to have no empty spaces within me, my Hawk. Fill me as I've never had opportunity to be filled before?"
"Get me ready, then," he commanded, releasing his hold on her ebony mane.
Loki hurriedly recited that now familiar incantation and reached back to grip Clint's cock with one slick hand. He let out a low groan as she stroked, coating his thick flesh thoroughly before moving to run her fingertips over her own entrance. Clint's gaze dropped to watch as she prepared herself, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it as he waited. His hands drifted to her hips and he took a firm hold, thumbs spreading her further open, marveling at the view before him.
He'd never imagined he'd see her like this; already filled so full, yet begging for more. It ignited a fire in his gut that he hadn't even known existed.
He nudged forward, then, gliding slickly against her heat, and she laughed softly.
"Impatient?" she asked.
"Can you blame me?" he shot back.
"Not in the least," she murmured, drawing her hand away to once more brace against the clone beneath her.
He rocked against her again, his eyes clenching shut momentarily at the sheer bliss of the feeling, and then he shifted, pulling his hips back until the blunt head of his cock pressed firmly to her entrance.
"There," she breathed. "Please, Clint? Now?"
"Show me how much you want it," Clint growled.
He could feel the slight tremors running through her frame as she pushed back, and hear the labored edge to her breath as he was slowly enveloped in her tight heat. The goddess took nearly half of his length before slowly rocking forward and then snapping her hips down, seating him fully within her.
Clint swore bitterly at the sudden motion and gripped her tighter, holding her in place.
"N-nuh," he gasped. "Don't you fucking move."
The clone beneath Loki gave a sharp thrust upward, and the pressure against Clint's own enflamed flesh was nearly enough to tip him over the edge.
"You, either," he snapped before finishing in a low mutter, "I swear to fucking god, I dunno which one of you is the bigger brat."
Clint dropped his forehead to rest between Loki's shoulder blades, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to regain his focus and calm his traitorous body. It was then he felt the bed dip behind him, and yet another set of slender hands stroking down his flanks.
"Oh goddamn it," he growled. "Forgot all about you."
"And there you have your answer," Loki hummed in an amused tone. "We are all equally terrible."
So saying, she gave a small twitch to her hips, and then bit back a wail as Clint rutted forward in retaliation.
"We're gonna play that game, huh?" he panted as he rocked deeper into the goddess before him. "I mean, that's fine and all…but you're at a serious disadvantage here, Princess."
"How so?" Loki demanded, and then swallowed down a surprised moan as the shade beneath began to keep pace with the archer behind her.
"You're the one all filled up, so if you wanna play who can make who come first, well, I think you're gonna lose."
"Perhaps you should refrain from planning your victory speech quite so soon, my love," Loki chided. "After all, soon you shall be nearly as full."
It took a moment for Clint's mind to decipher the meaning of Loki's words. But then the clone at his back slipped one hand lower to press against the archer's entrance, and it all suddenly became clear.
"Well, fuck," Clint huffed. "Color me screwed."
"Not quite yet," Loki cooed. "But you're well on your way."
And then those questing fingers pushed slowly inside him, and any hope of a witty comeback was lost. A guttural groan rose in his chest as pure, animal instinct took over; the primal side of Clint's brain demanding more.
He wanted to take as he was taken; wanted to fill his goddess even as he was being filled in return. The hunger in his belly doubled, threatening to burn him alive as he imagined being caught between the soft, rounded body before him, and the hard press of lean muscle at his back.
And then a whimper spilled from his throat as those slender fingers twisted, finding that sensitive patch of flesh hidden so deeply inside, and Clint knew he was lost.
He pulled back from the wet heat surrounding his cock, and pushed down on the shade's fingers, thrilling to the pressure and friction and sheer fucking bliss that flooded his solid frame.
"Yes," he ground out. "Oh goddamn it, Loki…fuck me. Tell your clone to quit screwing around and just fuck me into you, already!"
"He does have ears, you know," Loki replied smugly, and Clint didn't even have to see her face to know she was grinning.
The frustrated growl that the archer voiced in return pulled a laugh from the goddess, and she rolled her hips, teasing over the head of his cock in short, controlled motions. His growl turned to a stream of nonsense; babbled mouth noise that was interspersed with more than a few choice swear words. But even that held the pleading tone of a man nearly at the end of his resolve.
"Have pity," Loki finally murmured, directing her command to the clone slowly bringing Clint to ruin. "Give him what he craves, and we will all profit."
Clint stilled as the shade withdrew his fingers, leaving him empty and shaking. A brief moment passed, seeming like an eternity to the archer, and then he felt the slick press of hardened flesh against his entrance.
The clone wasted no time breaching him; pushing steadily into Clint; filling him completely as he gasped through the slight burn of being stretched.
And then he was moving, and Clint howled in relief.
The clone thrust deep, driving Clint forward and filling the goddess in return; each jarring impact assailing his spot and pressing him harder against Loki, tearing spiraling cries from her throat. The shade beneath her arched his hips, driving up and into her, and Clint could feel how tight she was growing around his cock.
It really was going to be a race to see who came first, and he wasn't entirely sure of his odds anymore.
"You're getting close, Princess," Clint ground out.
"As are you," she gasped in reply. "I can feel your pulse at my back; hear the ragged edge in your voice."
"You're not wrong," he allowed and dipped his head to lick a wet stripe up her spine. "Ladies first, though."
"Such manners you have," she laughed.
"Fuck manners," Clint said. "I just want you tight and screaming when I finally let go. I want you milking me for every drop."
The goddess fairly purred in delight, snapping her hips down to take him deeper as she murmured, "Well, then. I daresay you haven't long to wait."
Clint circled one arm around Loki's chest, tugging her up to cleave tight against him. He mouthed along the slope of her shoulder as his other hand dipped between her thighs, circling her clit lightly.
"What say I help that along?" he suggested.
Loki's only response was a harsh gasp, and then she was twisting in his grip, bucking back against him in wild abandon. He held his ground, letting her move freely over his length while the clone beneath thrust steadily, driving her ever closer to the edge. Clint drove his teeth into the crook of Loki's shoulder, the taste of copper suddenly heavy on his tongue, and with a sudden, violent shriek, she was coming.
The shade at Clint's back stiffened, even as the one beneath Loki mirrored his actions, and Clint felt the bloom of searing heat wash through him. He followed a split second later, spilling deep within Loki's shuddering body even as the clone filled him to overflowing. The archer's curses were muffled against Loki's shoulder, and he held himself deep, feeling the tension coiled around his spine unspool. Loki's hands slid up and around Clint's neck, coming to rest in his hair as she panted through her release, her body quivering in his grasp.
Several moments passed as they came down; racing hearts began to slow; heaving breaths evened, and the sweat that gathered in the nape of Clint's hair cooled.
The clones politely extracted themselves from the tangle of flesh that was the archer and his goddess, and melted back into nothing, leaving them alone on the bed. Clint lowered Loki to the sheets and held himself just above her; peppering her back with small kisses. She rested her head on folded arms, sending just a glimmer of a smirk back at him over her shoulder.
"Well?" she finally prodded. "Was that to your liking?"
"Do you really even have to ask?" Clint teased.
"No," she conceded. "But I would like to hear you admit to such."
Clint carefully pulled free from Loki's body and turned her onto her back, meeting her eyes steadily. "Princess," he intoned. "That was perfect. But I do have one complaint."
Loki's brows drew down into a worried cast and she tilted her head in a curious manner. "What might that be?" she asked hesitantly.
"That it took us until now to play this particular game," Clint answered with a grin. "I mean, hell…what were we waiting for?!"
Loki huffed out an amused breath and shook her head.
"Greedy," she said fondly before tugging Clint down to the bed to curl against him.
"You love it," he murmured, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and drawing her close as his eyes drifted slowly shut.