A/N - Adult situations are more toward the edge of M this time. Just fair warning. I also broke this chapter into sub-chapters referencing the passing months. Reviews are always appreciated as are PMs. Just like to know if I'm going in a good direction or not.

One

The next morning Clint wrote his first report for Fury. He didn't have to be at headquarters until his guard shift so he actually had time to think about what he was going to write. So far all he had was a title and three cups of coffee. To further stall he sent a quick text to Fury asking if he wanted the report sent to somewhere other than his work email. Fury responded with an address and that he was looking forward to reading it.

Clint sighed at the blinking cursor. There was so much in his head he didn't know quite where to begin. Then it came to him, the most important thing he thought Fury should know. "I am not Colt. I'll never betray you." Trust and loyalty didn't come easy for Clint. Time and again through his life he had put his trust in people only to have it betrayed, twisted, or trampled on. Ironically the first person he came to trust in a long time was Coulson. At first it was that he could trust that Coulson would kill him if he got too far out of line. But then he began to realize that Coulson would do everything to save him as well. Next was Natasha, a person no one really trusted. But she understood him like no one else did. Sometimes he saw so much of himself, his mostly former self, in her that it was scary. In many ways, he was her Coulson at first, but now their trust was an unbreakable bond.

And now Fury. Leader's always brought out the rebellious side of Clint. He had had his fair share of leaders who postured, who bullied, all to prove they were in charge. But never with Fury, he knew he was a leader, he didn't need to force anyone to believe it. That didn't mean that Clint still didn't rebel. When he did Fury shut him down, forcefully if necessary, but always with respect. In the end that respect was what drew Clint to him. It made Clint want to follow him, to be beneath him.

With the first line finished everything else seemed to flow naturally; reiterating his likes and dislikes, that he understood why he was punished, and that he would try and make sure it never happened again. After finishing up the report and emailing it, Clint got ready for work, heading in early to have a conversation with a certain handler.

The archer knocked on the door frame of Agent Coulson's office. Coulson was typing furiously and only gave a quick glance and nod for Clint to come in. Clint flopped into one the chairs in front the desk waiting for Coulson to complete whatever he was working on. He knew from experience that it was never good to interrupt his handler's train of thought. After a few minutes Coulson stopped typing, turned off his monitor, and turned towards the Barton.

"I assume this is not just a friendly visit, what do you need?"

"Can't I just come in to hang out?"

"That, Agent Barton, only happens when you are trying to avoid or escape someone and since you left my door open I assume it's not that."

Clint looked back at the open door, gets up, and closes it. "I'm not avoiding anyone but I'd like this conversation to be private."

"Ok… What have you gotten yourself into?"

"A relationship."

"I'm already aware of your relationship with Romanoff. There are not regulations against it and somehow it actually seems to improve both of…"

"Not that kind of relationship."

"And you know I'm well aware of your extra-curricular activities, need I remind you of last August? I'm not a drinking buddy, Clint, I really don't need to know the particulars of your life after hours unless it threatens your job and…"

"It's with Fury," Clint blurts out. To Coulson's credit he didn't flinch.

"Well, that was unexpected. However, it's not against regulations and as long as it doesn't affect work, I don't need to know."

"Well it seemed you knew about his previous relationship. He told me about… before."

"Well that was different. A person not in complete control of their faculties is a security risk. I know all your brain cells function, whether or not you chose to use them. Is that all?"

"I… I guess so. He said I needed to tell you."

"And you have. Isn't it time for your shift guarding the Tessaract?"

Clint sighed, "Yes. I should get going."

As soon as Coulson heard Clint's steps disappear down the hallway, he picked up his phone and dialed. "Nick, I think we should go to lunch. Yes, now would be fine."

Few people made Nick Fury nervous, but sitting with across from Agent Coulson in a non-descript pizza joint, he found he didn't have an appetite. Coulson, on the other hand, was meticulously making his way through his lasagna, clearly savoring every bite. "Your food is getting cold, Nick."

"I can't eat waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Oh," Coulson wipes his mouth with a napkin "This is more of an informal what the hell were you thinking Q&A session. I'm not providing information, just looking for answers."

"Regarding?"

"Agent Barton."

Relieved, Nick breaks off a piece of his calzone and dips it into the marinara sauce before continuing, "Oh so he told you then."

"Yes. He says you told him about the tragic Colt."

Nick nodded.

"So he's okay with being a rebound?"

"He's not a rebound."

"It's been less than three months Nick. I think it qualifies… Did you tell him how long it had been?"

"I may have neglected to mention it."

"I thought this was based on trust."

"It is. And I told him the truth."

"Just not all of it."

"Not intentionally. I had it all planned out and well… I'll rectify the situation soon enough. Still he's not a rebound. If anything Colt was. Well more of a replacement for what I wanted, what I have now."

"We are still talking about Barton?"

"Yes, and I know it doesn't make a damn bit of sense. Hell I don't understand it either. I just knew. I've always known. Just didn't know it would happen. Hell it could still all blow up in my face. But fuck it, we work in a dangerous field, why would we go for safety in our personal lives." Nick looks at his watch, "Anything else? I need to get back for yet another meeting."

"Just don't break him Nick. Sometimes I think the only thing holding him together is his gear and Romanoff. I'd really hate to kill her saving you."

Nick laughs, "Are you sure you would win? Thanks for your concern Phil, but this will work out. Or not, but he's much stronger than you think."

Two

"Please Sir, I'm so close, I can't stop…"

Fury snapped the crop against Clint's ass causing the archer to go up on his toes while letting out an anguished moan, "What's the rule?"

"No cumming in your house Sir, but I can't hold…"

Fury trailed the crop down Clint's back before swatting him again, "You can and you will, just for a few more minutes."

Clint furiously went through his mind, trying to focus on something other than the increasing tightness in his lower abdomen. The hardness of his cock is almost painful, being held against him by now way too tight leather shorts. Finally, he started reviewing every single detail of that morning's briefing. It almost lulled him to sleep the first time he heard it, he hoped it would do the same now. It helped some, the sting of crop stayed where it landed, not telegraphing itself along his shaft as it had been for the last half hour. He slowed his breathing down and thought for a moment that he would be able to do this.

"Sixty seconds." Fury began snap the crop against Clint, once a second at first but then quickly began to speed up the tempo. Clint was rapidly losing focus as each stroke seem to telegraph its way up and down his shaft until he swore it was throbbing in rhythm.

"Oh God…"

"Don't."

"No…won't…come…please…oh…" The last fifteen seconds the crop was moving so fast that it felt like one long electrical charge moving back and forth from his ass to his cock. Clint put all his focus into one word, no, that he repeated over and over again until Fury stopped. Clint was silent a moment later, collapsing his body against the wall, hands still unmoved.

"You can release your hands." Clint did and collapsed to the floor. Fury brought him water and sat on the floor beside him until Clint felt strong enough to stand.

"I didn't cum Sir."

"I know. You should probably get dressed; your body is cooling off." Clint stumbled to the bench, retrieving his clothes before heading to the bathroom. Fury noticed that Clint was still very hard, "Keep the shorts on and just pull your pants on over them. Don't want you going off in here." Fury said with a smirk.

At the door Fury makes a point of looking down at Clint's still bulging crotch, "You will not take care of that in the car. Is Romanoff home?"

"You know damn well she's on a mission."

"Oh," Fury chuckled deeply, "I guess you'll figure out how to take care of that."

"You can be an evil son-of-a-bitch you know that?"

"Which is exactly why you keep coming back."

Even though it was cold, Clint drove all the way back with the windows down. However, when he got home, it was only a few seconds until he was out of his pants and pulling off the leather shorts. The sudden change of pressure against his shaft almost sent him over the edge right then. He sent Fury a quick text as required, "Home."

He had made it to the couch when he received a text back "Still hard?"

"Yes."

"Good control Wild Boy, take it slow and enjoy yourself, you did good tonight."

"Thank you Sir."

Clint laid the phone on the table, stretched out on the couch, taking his cock in hand and slowly began to stroke along the length. Building the pressure, the sensation, until he's right on the edge and then he backs off. He does this many times, enjoying the level of control he's exerting. Building up again, he shifts his hips for a better angle when a sore spot on his ass is scraped across the couch. A sharp sting is telegraphed from his ass, along the shaft of his cock, to the tip. As pain goes, it wasn't anything really but the sensation was too much for Clint and he finds his cock twitching in the tightened grip of his hand that's quickly covered with warm liquid release. Satisfied, yet frustrated, he wipes his hand off on his shirt and gets up to go take a shower. He looks at his phone and is surprised to see that it's been nearly two hours since he started. "How's that for self-control," he thought while making a mental note to definitely mention that in his report.

Clint texted Fury as soon as he made it through security check. In two months it had been as much habit as showing his I.D. card at the gate and front door.

"You're late," Fury texted back.

"Of course, Natasha's not in town. Coulson doesn't care. Problem?"

"Love flexing the bad boy, don't you? Maybe I'll have to add punctuality everywhere to the permanent rules."

Clint stopped in his tracks, "Permanent?" he texted back.

"I'm considering it. You still have a few more weeks to impress me."

"Yes, sir."

Three

Natasha arrived home to the smell of food cooking. Going into the kitchen she found Clint fussing over several pots on the stove. "Third night in a row, should I be concerned?" Clint answered with a rather passionate kiss that lasted until he heard the pasta water boiling over.

"Shipping out to the new facility, day after tomorrow. It's an indefinite assignment and I don't know who is allowed to visit the facility. Besides can't I do something nice?"

"Aww," Natasha said playfully, "You're going to miss me aren't you?"

"Not one bit. I have my right hand," Clint smirked while checking to see if everything was ready. He almost stepped out of the way of the shoulder punch he knew was coming. "Hey I'm cooking here," he teased.

"Then don't be an ass." Natasha opened the bottle of wine on the counter and poured herself a glass. "Is Fury going offsite as well?"

"Don't know, I guess I'll find out tomorrow night. It's three months; I guess I'll find out a lot of things."

Natasha poured Clint some wine and handed him the glass, "If he doesn't keep you, he's a fool. I know I'll never fully understand it but I've read all your reports. You seem to be very cooperative, loyal, and," Natasha smiled, "Obedient. You seem perfect for him."

Clint finished off his wine. Sitting the glass down, he pulled Natasha close to him, "So am I perfect for you as well?"

Natasha feigned indifference, "You'll do for now. Although with you gone, I may trade you in for a couple of new recruits..."

Clint huffed dramatically, just holding in a laugh, "You tramp."

"You should talk. Dinner ready?"

"I see the delivery guy beat me here," Clint says when Fury opens the door.

"That's not delivery, I cooked. Figured you're going to be eating cafeteria slop for god knows how long I'd be nice." Clint chuckled as he dropped to his usual eating spot by the kitchen table.

"What's funny, don't think I can cook?"

"No, Sir. It's just I do the same thing before Nat or I go on a long assignment. I've made dinner the last three nights because I don't know when I'm coming back."

"I apologize if I interrupted your schedule, just that this being three…"

"You didn't interrupt anything. Don't know how it started but it seems Nat and I have this ritual around leaving on missions. The day before we are all snarky and sometimes downright mean. The night before being shipped out we always avoid each other. The morning of the other leaves without speaking. Right now Nat's probably out at some bar, pretending she isn't going to miss me."

"If I didn't know how often you both risk your lives it would sound crazy, but somehow it makes sense." Fury hands Clint down a plate of roast beef and vegetables, "I thought comfort food would be appropriate."

"Thank you Sir, it smells great." As usual they spend the time eating in silence. When finished Fury puts his plate on top of Clint's who puts them away in the sink. Afterwards Clint starts to take off his shirt.

"No play tonight. Come sit on the bench, we are going to talk."

Suddenly dinner became a lead weight in Clint's stomach as he slowly walked over and sat on the bench. "Talk Sir?"

"Yes, tonight is the end of the trial period," Fury smiled, "I thought you would like to know my decision."

Clint started to look away but instead faced Fury letting him see all the apprehension, doubt, and fear in his eyes. "I guess it would depend on what your decision is. I've known from the first night what mine was, hell even before the first night. But it's not up to me is it?" Clint swallowed hard but didn't turn away no matter how much he wanted to.

"Correct it's my decision," Fury runs a hand over Clint's hair then gets up suddenly and walks away. "But you shouldn't be too worried. In the last three months have you disappointed me, not done what I've requested?"

"Well the second night, I hid my emotions, and then there have been a couple of times you told me that I was being a Brat."

"And were you?"

"I was selfishly putting my needs first."

"And did you correct the behavior?" Fury said walking back to the bench with a deep violent colored velvet bag in his hand. He drops the bag into Clint's lap.

"Yes, Sir. Or at least I've tried very hard to."

"And that is what's important. I don't expect perfection, that would be fucking stupid. What I do expect is growth, and I think you've grown a lot in these last three months. Open the bag."

Clint hastily opened the bag to find inside a black leather collar. It wasn't inscribed but a single silver arrow tip was inlaid at the center. "Would you put it on me Sir?" Clint asked nervously.

"When I'm ready. This is important and although I'm not one for fluffy crap there needs to be some kind of ceremony." Fury began to pace. Anyone else would think that he was trying to figure out what to do. Clint knew better, as he could tell by the subtle twitching in the taller man's fingers. They had hit another trigger in the memory of the tragic Colt.

It wasn't the first time, it was actually the third; it wasn't going to be the last. It didn't bother Clint, he still had triggers from the many foster homes and the circus; who was he to judge. Clint sat quietly waiting for it the pass. It's what Fury needed. Natasha needed to be held or to spar when she hit a trigger, Clint felt better putting an arrow in something.

Suddenly Fury stopped in front of Clint, "Strip. Everything. Then kneel." Fury put out his hand and retrieved the collar from Clint, sitting it and the bag on the bench. Then he turned and stepped away giving the smaller man room.

"Everything?"

"Did I stutter? Don't worry this isn't sexual. I have no interest in men that way." Clint removed all his clothing and placed them on the bench and knelt down in front of it.

"Ready Sir."

Fury turns and looks over Clint, "Put your hands behind your back. Good, that's better. I'll make this brief because despite what you think, I don't love to hear myself talk. The reason you are naked is because it represents a blank slate. It doesn't matter what you've done before with other Tops, it doesn't even matter what we have done. We start new. And since we are starting again, you have a choice; to submit to me with all that it entails or to walk away and not come back.

"I…"

"Don't interrupt." Fury snapped.

"Yes Sir."

"The rules from before are still in effect but you must agree to two more. 1. The collar belongs to me. I determine when it goes on and when it comes off. 2. I will dominate you outside this space now as well. You will know when that is when I use your special name. I promise to never use it in front of others. Understand?"

"Yes Sir."

Fury takes the collar from the bench and holds it eye level in front of Clint. "This collar represents a bond and a commitment. Not only from you to follow my guidance, to submit to my will, but also from me to keep you safe, to cherish the gift of your submission, to make you even better than you are now. If at any time either of us feels that we can't adhere to that commitment the collar is returned to its bag. Do you understand and accept this collar?"

Clint smiled, "Yes Sir."

Fury knelt down and put the collar around Clint's neck. As he adjusts it he can feel a shiver run through Clint. "Nervous about what you got yourself into?"

"No sir, just don't want to wake up and find it's a dream."

Fury secured the buckle, "It's not." Fury stands up. "Look me in the eye." Clint tilts his head up. "Who are you?"

"I'm your Wild Boy."

"And I am?"

"You are my Sir."

"Anything you want to say."

The words get caught in Clint's throat as he swallows and for the first time truly feels the collar around his neck. It's scary, exciting, and overwhelming all at the same time. After a minute he is able to croak out two words. "Thank you."

Fury sat down beside Clint, putting his arm around his shoulder. "No, thank you, you made possible something I thought would never happen again." Clint starts to shake. "You can put your clothes back on." Clint complies and sits back on the floor but the tremble is still there.

"I must be colder than I thought."

"Do you feel cold?"

"Not really but…"

"It's not cold. It's the weight of everything that just happened. You are so used to just playing at this. Now you get to put up or shut up." Clint just nodded. Fury rubbed a hand along his back. "It'll be fine. You are much stronger and willing than I could've imagined. This is what you wanted." They sat quietly while Clint calmed back down. Fury stood up. "You probably should be going. I'm assuming they will be heading out at o'dark thirty?"

"Of course. I assume you're not coming along."

"Not for a couple of weeks. Then I'll be there just periodically unless I'm needed more. Just wait on the report until you have time. Something tells me you'll be bored a lot out there." Fury helped Clint up and headed him toward the door. "You can keep the collar for now. I'll retrieve it when I get out there."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Goodnight Wild Boy."