"Well, hell, Barton, you invited guests over and didn't tell me." Tony had come straight to the medical level as soon as the jet landed, Steve right behind him; even the Hulk crowded into the hallway outside the row of cubicles, huffing and trying to get a view of Bruce. Drops of water still clung to Tony and Steve's hair from the decontamination shower, and their sweats were Stark industries wear, high quality soft cotton, of course, because it was Tony's favorite.
"You going to ground me for having a party while Mom and Dad were out?" Clint asked, but his attention was really on the doctor who was, yet again, checking over Bruce; those dark circles under his eyes and a shortness of breath worried Clint. What Bruce needed was rest, preferably with Clint right beside him. After the strange … daydreams? … Clint was feeling particularly clingy, something unusual for him, but all he wanted to do right now was to tuck Bruce into bed and watch him sleep.
"So Phil … Agent Coulson … is awake?" Steve asked, derailing the snark train before it could get going. "And Carol?"
"Coulson's going to need time to get his strength and muscle mass back, but he's himself for sure. First thing he did was ask for a report." Clint smiled at the memory of Phil waking up in the jet in that ridiculously thin gown. "The part of the tesseract in the scepter kept him alive and is now reacting to the unknown radiation by speeding his recovery."
"Well, something good should come from that thing finally," Tony muttered as he was texting on his phone. Speaking of dark circles, Tony was showing all the signs of lack of sleep, a kind of manic look in his eyes that meant he was going on espresso and adrenaline.
"Carol is sitting with Dr. Lawson until he wakes up," Bruce said as the doctor finished. "Lawson's monitor was right in the middle of the sphere; the data could be invaluable in understanding what's going on." He started to stand up, but sagged back down onto the bed.
"And that can wait until tomorrow," the doctor ordered. "You need rest, Dr. Banner; if you had a patient who'd been exposed to an electrical charge, had a life threatening allergic reaction and been unconscious, you'd say the same thing." Clint gave Bruce an 'I told you so' look, and Bruce gave in graciously which meant he really did feel like shit. If he'd felt up to it, Clint knew, nothing could stop him from heading to the lab for the rest of the evening.
"You might want to talk to the big green guy outside the door," Steve said. "He's pretty messed up by what happened in those caves."
"I'll tell him I'll be right there, then I'll get you into bed, doc," Clint laid a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Give me a minute."
"It's okay, Clint." Bruce sighed. "Actually, I want to see him. For a while there, I knew what he was feeling, shared his panic. Strange, but now that we're separate, I think I'm starting to understand him better. He's going to want to make sure I'm okay too. That's what he does; protect me, so we'll talk to him together."
Despite his concerns about Bruce's health, Clint had to grin; the relationship between the two was changing, and he was glad to see it happening. The little boys in that closet were starting to understand the way they worked together. He held out his hand and Bruce used it to get up; Clint let Bruce decide how much help he needed, but he did keep a tight hold, fingers laced together for strength as they headed to the door.
"I'll start working on the data and see what Jarvis and I can figure out. Then I'm going to contact Hank Pym about nannites that were supposed to be inert but weren't. We missed something. Oh, and Jarvis?" Tony called, "stock epi-pens in labs and bedrooms of everyone exposed, plus add them to the standard kits, will you?"
"Of course sir," the AI responded.
"Also, access Dr. Lawson's monitor and begin the download while I'm finishing up here."
"Tony," Bruce called from the doorway. "I think you should take the same advice. I know you were up all last night in the lab, and that's been two battles since you've slept."
"It's not a problem. That's why I invented a better espresso machine," Tony winked. "Who needs sleep when you've got caffeine?"
Steve didn't glower or even speak, just raised that one eyebrow which meant he saw right through Tony's bullshit then gave Bruce a small nod. He'd see to it.
"Hey!" Clint heard Tony protest as they went out in the hallway. "Don't not talk about me while you're talking about me with me in the room!"
"Little guy okay?" the Hulk was waiting, obviously agitated; there were a few dents in drywall where he'd leaned against it or drummed his fingers, a nervous habit Bruce shared.
"Tired, but fine," Bruce answered. "How about we go to your room so I can sit down before I fall down?"
The Hulk caught him in a hug, cradling him the same way he'd done to Clint in Las Vegas, holding Bruce as if he was made of fragile glass. "I'm perfectly capable of walking," Bruce protested, "if you just give me a minute."
"Hulk carry little guy. What Hulk do." And that was that, no arguing; taking care of Bruce seemed to calm the Big Guy, give him a focus, and Clint was glad to let him do it. After all, he was right. The Hulk had always taken care of Bruce, healing him, making sure he didn't fall apart, stopping that bullet to the brain. Truth was, that's why the Hulk existed; to protect that little boy in the closet, to be strong enough to stand up to the bad people in his life. And that reminded Clint; he still had to find General Thaddeus E. 'Thunderbolt' Ross and put a barbed arrow in his ass.
"This is your room?" Bruce asked, and Clint realized he'd never been here before. This whole situation was going to take some getting used to and some changes in thinking about the three of them. "Nice. Tony did it up right."
"Hulk pick TV," he said proudly, "and painting."
Huh. Clint hadn't known that. He'd just assumed that Pepper had picked it out; she had really good taste. "Is that a Lichtenstein?" Good lord, it was probably an original, knowing Tony.
"Looks like bacon," the Hulk noted, and it did, the big bold brushstrokes dominating the frame. "Watch movie now?" He sat Bruce down on the big couch.
"We watching a movie?" Clint asked, kicking off his shoes and putting them by the door, another habit Bruce had gotten him into.
"Cupid promise." The Hulk never forgot a promise. Never. "In cave. White rabbit and red pill."
"Wait. How do you know that?" Clint was floored; that conversation had taken place in one of his dreams when they were thousands of miles apart.
"You were there. In head. Promised." While the Big Guy busied himself getting a drink from the fridge, Clint stared at his back.
"Whoa, whoa. That means … do you remember the closet?"
"No closet. Underground. Cave. Hulk didn't like." He shook his head as he talked.
"Bruce, did you …" Clint turned to find that Bruce had already drifted off, head lolling back on the edge of the soft recliner portion of the couch.
"What?" he mumbled, then looked blearily around. "Maybe I should try to sleep. I feel all hyped up on the inside but so tired. God, I guess I've forgotten what being sick feels like."
"That's the antihistamine at work." Clint sat beside him. "You want me to help you back to your room?"
"No." He pushed himself up. "There's a nice big bed right in there. I'll sleep and you can stay here with the … Hulk. Watch a movie or something." Clint made no bones about helping Bruce into the other room and undressing him; it was a sign of how tired Bruce was that he didn't argue with Clint as he bundled him under the covers.
"Cupid sleep too." Hulk watched from the doorway. "Stay with Little Guy."
"It's okay, I promised." Clint argued.
"Sleep. Little Bruce needs you. Big Guy okay," he insisted.
It was what Clint really wanted to do; Bruce was shivering slightly, running a mild fever. "You sure?"
"Sure. Hulk watch over you both." He turned back and asked Jarvis to start the movie.
Stripping down to his briefs, Clint climbed over Bruce and slipped in next to him, pulling him into his arms; Bruce turned towards him and buried his head against Clint's shoulder as he drifted off, leaving Clint to wonder over the fact that Bruce had used the work Hulk and the Hulk had used Bruce's name.
…
"… so if the radiation interaction is magnetic, it's a matter of determining the resonating frequencies. Then there's the discharge; the triboelectric effect could be …" Tony continued as he and Steve walked down the hallway towards the elevator. He'd been talking non-stop since the others left, plans within plans, most of which Steve simply tuned out.
"How long have you been awake, Tony?" Steve asked.
"Sleep is vastly overrated," Tony scoffed. "Once Jarvis gets the data from the monitor, I can calibrate the readings to find …"
"Tony," Steve interrupted as the doors opened. "Let's go to bed."
Tony bristled. "Steve, I don't need a nanny to watch over me and tell me when to go to bed and when to eat. I've already got Pepper for that and look where that relationship ended up."
Steve knew he'd obviously hit a nerve; Tony might act like he needed a watcher but in reality he chose to prioritize his life in ways others found eccentric and odd. Holding up a hand as a peace gesture, Steve clarified his statement as the doors swished closed.
"I don't want to be your babysitter, Tony. Obviously, I didn't get the phrasing right. I meant that for both of us. Together." He didn't like stating thing so baldly, but Tony always did push him out of his comfort zone. "Sex, Tony. I'm talking about sex."
Anger dropped away immediately, hard lines around his eyes giving way to a familiar sparkle. "Oh. Well, why didn't you say so? I prefer the straight forward method - just be obvious." Punching the button for his floor, Tony crowded Steve up against the paneled wall as they started upwards. "Did you miss me? I know it's tough to be deprived of my presence once you've basked in the glow."
"You are so full of yourself, Tony," Steve may have been complaining, but his body was certainly reacting to the sexual tension oozing out of Tony's voice.
"I'd rather be full of you." How Tony could do that, go from science to talking dirty in zero to sixty seconds, Steve wasn't sure. Nor did he understand why Tony's filthy mouth was so eminently kissable and fuckable. And, yeah, he had thought about Tony's lips around his cock in the last two days more times than he'd like to admit.
"About that. I'm not sure I'm ready, not yet. I mean, I will be, but it's a big step and I'd rather wait until we see if this is going to work out or not, if that's okay with you." Tripping over his tongue, Steve tried to explain; it was an old-fashioned notion – people today seemed to jump right into sex, not ease around the bases like he was used to. Well, Clint and Bruce had been a pretty slow build up, but the idea of hooking up just didn't appeal to Steve. Best to get it out in the open now.
Tony's sexy smile only widened. "I knew that, Cap. I'm okay with whatever you want to do or not do. As long as I get off in the process, I don't care whether it's your hand or your mouth or your ass … all of them do it for me."
Steve barely had time to react to that statement before the doors opened, and Tony was dragging him out of the elevator by the collar of his t-shirt, pushing him up against the first available wall and swooping in to take control of his mouth, tongue invading as he kissed him. This wasn't how Steve had foreseen how things would go – he had definitely had a plan – and, damn it, he liked his plan, so he used his strength to switch their places, pinning Tony's wrists to the wall with one hand while his other yanked up the hem of Tony's shirt. And then he stopped when he saw the purpling bruises on Tony's abdomen.
"Tony. What's this? Are you hurt?" A spike of anger shot through Steve; working through the night to solve a problem was on thing, but ignoring an injury was completely different.
"What? Oh, just some bruises from the suit. Damn lizard blindsided me with its tail. Hey, can't have a battle without cracking a few eggs," Tony joked, but Steve's face remained serious.
"We should get you checked out," Steve pulled back, but Tony grabbed his shoulders.
"Look, metal and flesh sometimes means bruises and scratches. It's no worse than the ones I get sparring with Natasha and Clint, okay?" Tony said then his voice grew husky. "Of course, I'd much rather have a different set of marks – circles around my wrists, hand prints on my hips, bite marks anywhere."
The words and images they conjured hit Steve's crotch, and his cock jumped to attention as he bit his lip to keep from groaning; it was to no avail because Tony saw Steve's eyes darken with lust.
"Oh, so it's that way is it? Well then, come on Steve. Mark me."
Then Steve pulled Tony's shirt off, couldn't wait get his mouth on Tony's chest, sucking little divots of flesh around the glow of the arc reactor, dragging low moans from Tony's throat as he left bruises in his wake. His fingers tightened around Tony's wrist, holding him hard and fast as he kissed every inch of skin he could reach, ran his tongue up Tony's neck, kissed him until he couldn't see straight, and then went back down again.
"Fuck, Steve," Tony growled, arching his back and thrusting his hips forward. "Go right for the jugular, why don't you?"
"Classic strategy. Hit the most sensitive areas first and destroy resistance," he murmured as his mouth covered one of Tony's nipples and sucked greedily. The little mewl of pleasure Tony gave had figured prominently in Steve's dreams the last few nights. His hand dived under the waistband of Tony's sweats and over the head of Tony's cock, stroking the hardening length. "Shock and awe."
"Damn, I love it when you talk dirty to me," Tony chuckled between choked breaths. "Next you'll be quoting Sun Tzu while you suck me off."
"Nah, it's not polite to talk with my mouth full." Steve grinned, letting go of Tony's wrists, dropping to his knees, yanking the sweats down around Tony's ankles, and taking Tony's length in one slick slide.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit," Tony could only say, and Steve felt a stab of triumph for making Tony Stark lose his ability to speak. He took his time, sucking him in deep then sliding back out, swirling his tongue around the velvety head, running along the thick vein. Tony hardened with each stroke, and Steve felt Tony begin to move with him, fingers anchor themselves in his blonde hair and hold him; stilling, he turned the reins over to Tony who began to thrust into Steve's mouth in earnest, babbling encouragement and praise as he did. "Fucking good and wet and so hot, oh god, you on your knees, Steve fucking Rogers, taking it all, oh fuck Steve …" Motions stuttered and strained, Tony's cock jolting into his mouth, and then Tony was coming with a long sigh that sounded like Steve's name. A little gagging, swallowing, taking as much as he could, Steve helped Tony finish off with his tongue before he rose up and took Tony's mouth in a fierce kiss, sharing the taste.
"Me. You. Now." Shoving Steve back, Tony tried to give orders. "Damn, Cap. Shock and awe indeed."
Steve let Tony herd him to the big sectional sofa that dominated the room; he kicked off his shoes and removed his sweats before he sat down on the end chaise, Tony following and pushing Steve until his head rested on the plump pillows. Somewhere along the way, Tony had lost the rest of his clothes too, and now he knelt, completely nude, between Steve's open thighs, one leg off of each side, staring at the body laid out beneath him.
"Tell you what. If this is one massive drunken hallucination, just don't tell me, okay?" He ran his hands along the outlines of Steve's muscles then chased them with his mouth, the tickle of his mustache like little electrical charges that went straight to Steve's groin. "And if you're a clone that's replaced the prickly, pain-in-the-ass Steve I first met, you're welcome to stay, no problem." Hands slid up the inside of Steve's thighs, fingers pressing into the ticklish skin at the juncture, holding him open.
"Tony," Steve breathed out as he watched the dark haired head move lower. He gasped as Tony sucked a line along his hip bone, hard, sure to leave marks, at least for the night. The pleasure tinged with just a tiny bite pain was perfect, something he'd never told anyone he craved … Tony just knew. A soft brush of lips on the head of his cock, a flick of the tongue, parting and sliding down, a slightly too strong pull back up, and Steve was closing his eyes, riding the tidal rush as long as he could before he had to set his own pace. Hands buried in the brown curly locks, he thrust upwards into Tony's mouth, breathing loudly, ragged gasps of need; Tony drove him over the edge with swirls of his tongue, taking him so deep that Steve forgot why he ever worried about doing this, reminding Steve that Tony never really gave up control at all. Finally, after what seemed like forever of the delicious torment, Steve's orgasm uncoiled and he came, his eyes locked on Tony's as the man swallowed. "Fuck," he moaned as Tony collapsed on the couch next to him.
"Agreed. Fucking great way to end the day." They lay in companionable silence for a few seconds, cooling down before Steve rolled up with a groan. He picked up his sweats and found his shirt, which had somehow been thrown halfway across the room, pulling it on as he wandered into the luxurious bathroom.
"You know," Tony said as Steve padded on bare feet back down the hallway when he was done, "if you leave now I'm going to head down to the lab and start working. Nothing like sex to perk me right up."
Steve gave Tony a disbelieving stare. "Really? That's what you're going with?"
"Hey, truth works sometimes." He dragged on his sweats and headed towards the bedroom.
"You could just ask me to stay." Steve shook his head at the backflips Tony was willing to do to avoid saying anything that might give away his emotions, but he followed anyway, decision already made.
"Now where's the fun in that?" Tony turned down the covers on the California king size bed; the wall of windows showed the nighttime skyline of New York City, a comforting glow of lights filling the room. Crawling in, he scooted over, leaving plenty of room. "You coming?"
Steve made that sound in the back of his throat, disbelief mixed with a sigh, and slid in, pulling up the covers, scooting over as he did.
Tony made it a whole 73 seconds without talking.
"So, what are the rules of dating Steve Rogers? Blow jobs on the third date, showers on the fifth …"
"Well, since we haven't actually been on a date, I guess we're still technically up at bat, not even on base." Steve fitted himself along Tony's back, tangling their legs together and sliding an arm over Tony's side, hand resting just beside the arc reactor.
"Oh, god, you're a cuddler. Should have known." Tony wiggled and shifted around, mostly just for show. "Great. You going to poke me with that thing all night, remind me of how long it takes me to get it up again at my age?"
"Tony," Steve said, breaths blowing across Tony's ear. "Go to sleep."
This time Tony made it 2 minutes and 52 seconds.
"So, what, roses, lobster dinner, restaurant with a view, wine, slow music … the whole nine yards? Maybe a chick-flick thrown in for good measure?"
"Tony."
4 minutes and 28 seconds.
"Pasta Pescatore. Mom used to always make it on special occasions for Dad. Mrs. Angeletti up the street taught her the recipe. Always knew when that dish came out that they'd disappear for a bit. With gremolata sauce, homemade bread, and nice bottle of Verdicchio." Steve's voice was quiet.
"I can do that," was the last thing Tony said before they both drifted off to sleep.
…
Teapots and teacups tilted and towered, precariously defying gravity on the cluttered table, the overstuffed chairs, and even the golden floor. He poured into the top cup of a stack, brown steaming liquid cascading down and filling all of them; wearing a Victorian waistcoat and burgundy velvet smoking jacket, he gave Clint that smile, the one that promised mischief, belied the evil lurking in his heart, and charmed everyone he turned it on.
"So, tell me about Bruce Banner," he ordered, silk hat perched on his head; he sipped the hot liquid. "Have you figured it out yet?"
Clint saw Bruce at the end of the table, head down, fast asleep, snoring slightly, cold cup still in his hand.
"This isn't a dream." That much he was sure of. "But I don't know if I'm just conjuring you up because you're as mad as a hatter, or if you're really here."
"Small steps, Barton. Small steps. You are good at making plans, I'll give you that. So, if you were behind this, what would be your goals?" He kicked his long legs up on an ottoman, upsetting a sterling silver sugar bowl that clattered to the ground.
"And I'm going to just tell you?" Clint shook his head. "Not stupid here. In fact, if this is one of your brain fucks, I want to know now." His bow appeared in his hands, exploding arrow notched, and he drew it back in one smooth motion; the string vibrated, the familiar weight a comfort, sight narrowed to the spot between Loki's eyes.
"Excellent. You can control the environment … although this is quite a strange choice even for you," he said. "Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of what is happening, just that you have inserted me into this little play of yours."
"Right. And I'm supposed to believe that?" Clint's muscles were taut, his fingers itching to release the arrow.
"It 'tis the truth, I'm afraid. Really. I'm quite worried. Something powerful enough to bring me here, even as a projection, is a formidable foe indeed. Perhaps, if I help you discover the answer to this problem, I can prove my worth to my kin and be set free again." He rose and offered his hand to Clint. "Come now, Clinton. It is not as if we haven't shared intimacies before. Tell me all about this thing you have with Bruce."
He let the arrow fly, a fierce satisfaction filling his chest as he watched go through Loki who evaporated like smoke.
"Question remains, little Hawk. Is this play a comedy or a tragedy?" the voice whispered as the dream faded away.
Clint surfaced, too warm and twisted up in the covers; weighted down by the Hulk's large frame on one side and Bruce's body on the other, he had to shove the blanket and sheet down with his feet until he could draw his legs out to cool off. Turning towards Bruce, Clint curved around him, resting his head on Bruce's shoulder; as he sank back to sleep, he felt the easy touch of a big hand on his back.
Skimming his hand down the curve of Bruce's chest, Clint dropped a series of light kisses upwards; the neon lights of Singapore flashing through the uncovered windows showed their shadows on the wall. Straddling Bruce's hips, Clint held himself up, hands on either side of Bruce's shoulders, cocks slowly rubbing together.
"Yes, this is much better," Clint sighed. "You and me, no Loki, no Cheshire Cats or hookah smoking caterpillars. All we need is a beach and a pitcher of margaritas, and I'd call it a vacation."
The vista of Las Vegas sparkled behind them, and Bruce laughed easily. "Well, there's a pool at least."
A wave of water splattered over them, drenching Clint's back. "Hey!" he turned. "I thought we agreed no cannonballs."
"Hulk like splash." The Big Guy swam on his back, splashing more water as he scissor-kicked his feet. "Clint and Little Guy all hot. Need to cool off."
"I certainly think you're hot," Bruce offered; Clint's laugh turned to a moan as Bruce rocked his hips. Bending down, he brushed his lips across Bruce's smiling ones, kissing the corners and running his tongue along the lower lip. Water drops trailed down his neck and back, hair wet, the coolness welcome in the evening heat.
The breeze blew in from the open doors, the soft bed beneath them, mirror on the ceiling above them; Clint reached out for the tube on the bedside table, slicking up his fingers and sliding them into Bruce, eliciting gasps of pleasure, and then Clint eased his cock inside the tight heat. He knew he was dreaming, knew that this was all connected to the spheres and the radiation, but, god, Bruce felt so good that Clint wanted nothing more than to sink in and stay there, enjoy the feeling of being joined like this, connected in the most intimate of ways.
"Clint," Bruce breathed his name. "We can do anything. The three of us."
The stars filled the black velvet of the desert sky above them, sleeping bag beneath them. A hand caressed his back, gentle despite the size, stroking along his spine; lips pressed kisses to his neck as he slid out and back into Bruce. Big fingers traced along his muscles, curved over his ass, teased him, pushed inside, just one bigger than three of Bruce's. The fullness was nothing he'd ever felt before, a completeness that heated him up. A part of his brain knew this should hurt, that he wasn't ready, that the Hulk had never shown interest in sex, but this was a only a dream. All the details melted away when that questing finger brushed his prostate and a white haze of bliss overtook him. Bruce moaned beneath him, writhing and begging for harder, faster, more; the Hulk was behind him driving him towards an orgasm like he'd never felt before. Body caught between the two, he let go and let them hold him, dragging him up to the very high edge. A sense of buoyance, like floating on the surface of a calm lake, hovered just out of reach …
"Fuck," Clint whispered as he shot awake, aching hard cock demanding attention. He almost couldn't think, his body's needs so great; groaning softly, he shifted his hips, trying to ease the pressure. Rolling onto his back, he started at the ceiling, breathing deeply, trying to put the dream … or whatever it was … out of his mind.
"Clint," Bruce's hand dragged along Clint's hand, running up his arm, lingering on his bicep, coming to rest on his neck. "Did you just dream …"
"Oh, hell, Bruce, that was so hot," Clint murmured, turning his face into Bruce's palm, letting the heat play through his skin. His brown eyes, wide blown with lust, met Clint's blue-grey ones, and did nothing to lower the rampant desire that ran through Clint.
"Fuck it." Bruce turned on his side, lifted himself upon one elbow and kissed Clint, demanding and hard, tongue forcing his way in; Clint let him, opening up to Bruce's invasion, the dream still playing in his head. He knew the Hulk was sleeping just to his left, but he didn't care. He wanted Bruce, wanted him to fill him up and make him whole; the strange last couple of days had him completely off-balance, and Clint knew he needed the other two as much as they needed him.
Green fingers stroked Clint's chest, traced the elastic band of his briefs and down his leg. Turning his head, he saw the Hulk's brown eyes, so much like Bruce's, watching them; lying on his stomach, the Hulk was rubbing his hips against the bed, huffing as he did. "Hulk dream. Want to help, not just watch."
"Um, I ... Bruce, you okay with this?" Clint asked, drawing away from Bruce long enough to speak; he body certainly was screaming 'yes' but he had to make sure.
"Surprisingly, yes. You said it yourself. We're package deal." Bruce cupped Clint's face, tenderly holding him and gazing into his eyes for a moment before his kissed him again, a kiss that went on forever, dragging every emotion out of Clint as the Hulk's fingers caressed Clint's exposed skin. Clint groaned as Bruce's mouth moved along his chin, down his neck, and, oh, god, he was going to have bruises all along his collarbone, and he didn't give a damn. His cock jerked as big fingers brushed along the aching curve of it, gentle and easy, and he wanted more, wanted to be full, to be claimed, to be between them; he arched up into Bruce's mouth as the Hulk tugged his briefs off, releasing his cock.
"I don't have anything," Clint groaned. "We can't …"
"I've got something," Bruce broke off and rolled off the bed; he picked up his khakis and pulled out his wallet, taking out some small packets. "Single size packages I saw at the store one day." He laughed a little as he ripped one open, spreading the sticky gel on his fingers. "Knowing you, I like to always be prepared." He didn't lie back down, getting on his knees instead, reaching a hand to pull Clint up. Lacing his arm under Clint's shoulders and across his chest to hold him upright, Bruce rested Clint's head on his shoulder, his back to against Bruce's front.
"Don't worry," Bruce whispered. "We've got you."
The brown depths of the Big Guy's eyes watched as Bruce slid the first slick finger inside; Clint was so worked up from the dream, so ready, that it didn't take long for him to loosen up for a second. The Hulk shifted onto his side, one hand painting long strokes wherever he could reach on Clint's body, the other lazily stroking his own arousal. Closing his eyes, Clint focused on the sensations of the touches, from feather light caresses of the Hulk to the growing insistent thrust of Bruce's fingers that demanded a response, and he felt himself floating upwards on the rising tide of tension, body responding as the buzz of worry in his head. It wasn't going to take much, but he wanted to draw it out as long as possible, so he inhaled deep breaths, filling his lungs with air and slowly releasing it, thinking of the last part of the dream, the sensation of floating, trying to recapture it.
"You ready?" Bruce whispered in his ear, and he nodded his assent, bracing his body by tightening his thigh muscles and pushing back against the Hulk's hand on his chest, balancing himself as Bruce's cock slowly entered him in increments until he was seated deeply inside of Clint. God, but he loved this moment, before the headlong rush to completion, one perfect breath that felt like coming home as much as coming together. Bruce loved it too, murmuring the words as his mouth opened against the skin along Clint's neck, telling him how much Clint meant to him. A pause from lust for something deeper … and then Bruce shifted, slipping back out and pushing back in and they fell together back into physicality of the act, sweaty skin, ragged breaths, clenched fists.
He thought it was more than he could handle and then he felt the first tentative taste of the Hulk's tongue, rough and coarse along the tight skin of his cock; he looked down, tangled his hands in the brown hair, and groaned as he held on. Gaining confidence from Clint's reaction, the Hulk swirled around the head, tracing along the length, taking the whole in one swipe and then sucking lightly. Inexperienced and messy, it was still a hell of a first attempt, and the Big Guy hummed happily, the vibrations rocking through Clint's gut and pushing him to the brink.
"Fuck, I'm going to …" He fought to stop it, wanting to give both of them pleasure in return before he climaxed.
"Let go. We've got you," Bruce promised, so Clint did, muscles contracting before he came, crying out as he fell into a well of nothing but bliss, physically rung dry, emotionally numb. He found himself floating on a calm sea of euphoria, outside of his own body, knowing what was happening, but at peace in a way he'd never been before. He knew when Bruce thrust for the last time, following Clint over the cliff; he saw the Hulk roll onto his back, finish himself off with a few hard pulls and lay wheezing loudly, arms flung out to either side. And still he drifted in the haze of the afterglow; eyes closed, breathing leveling out nice and even, brain shut to everything but the awareness of the tremors in his body.
"Clint?" Bruce's voice roused him and he slipped out of the place, coming back to reality; his head was lying on the Hulk's thigh, his feet across Bruce's legs.
"Hmmmmmmm," he managed to make some noise in response.
"You've haven't moved in the last five minutes." Bruce sat up and looked at him; Clint was sure his pupils were dilated, his body warm and shivering at the same time.
"Ummmm, yeah, do I have to?" He got his hand to cooperate and patted the Big Guy's calf. "I'm fine right here for a bit."
The Hulk rumbled as he pushed Clint's head off so he could get out of bed. "Little guy usually take care of that. Hulk need shower," he said with a huff, and Clint was suddenly giggling at the retreating naked back.
"Well, guess that finally answers the question about the Hulk's preferences." He couldn't seem to stop himself from laughing. "Damn Bruce, whatever that was, I would certainly not mind doing it again. If you're okay with it. I mean, I don't want you to think that …"
"Shut up, Clint." Bruce gave him a quick kiss as he got up. "I need a nice hot shower and some clean clothes. So get your lazy ass out of bed." He grabbed Clint's ankle and tugged him towards the edge. "It's your rule that there's no apologizing for amazingly earth-shattering sex anyway."