Clint's arms were straining, starting to shake and a drip of sweat slid down one bicep as he groaned. Loki panted and growled beside him, lowering himself to the blue plastic mats and then pushing himself back up just to do it all over again. A whistle tutted at them from behind and the two dropped to the mats, huffing hard.
"Two minutes!" Natasha barked at them, stepping around them to sit on the bench.
Loki growled again, blowing his wild hair from his face, cheek flat against the mat. "I hate this."
"I know," Clint chuckled breathily. "Think of the goal- this is all for the goal."
The god squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, nodding at Clint and resigning himself to sweating on the mats while they rested for two minutes.
Natasha blew her whistle again as she got up and the men rose to stand. She strutted up to them and folded her arms.
"I don't know what you're getting up for- sit-ups; get on the ground."
And the two dropped to the mats on their backs, settling with their knees up. When they were in position Natasha held the whistle to her mouth,
"Five sets of twenty; thirty seconds in between for rest on my mark. Ready?"
"I want to kill you," Loki said bluntly.
She smirked and blew the whistle, prompting the two to begin pulling their bodies into sitting position and then back down flat twenty times until she sounded the whistle again and they laid for a rest. After thirty seconds she blew again and they started all over again, grunting and huffing, shirts already soaked with sweat. The redhead stalked around them as they worked, scrutinizing their form and blowing her whistle for rests and starts. While Clint began to falter in his sit-ups, getting slower until he could barely complete a sit, Loki huffed and moved faster, keeping his own count and resting when he reached the limit without the whistle's prompting. Natasha stood above Clint's head and scowled down at him while he looked at Loki and chuckled.
"Whoa! Go, baby, go," he cheered quietly between them as he watched the god work quickly.
"That should be you," Natasha accused, clearly unhappy. "He's a newbie- he shouldn't be beating you."
Loki sighed and wheezed as he rested, counting out the seconds in his head.
"He's also a god," Clint reminded her.
"No, he's not."
"I think I would know: I'm the one that sleeps with him."
Loki chuckled breathily, "She's right, you know. I'm not a god, I merely say so because I'm egoistic."
"Would you shut up? I'm trying to build you up a bit here, and you're just shitting on me."
Loki started his reps again with a smile on his face, cheeks red from the exertion and Clint rolled his eyes and started up with him. They finished their workout- going through a two mile run and bouts of pull-ups and then thirty full minutes of swimming- and then Natasha let them go for the day. The next day would be a break from the body work and instead would train Loki in weapons. The pair went for the showers to clean themselves of their sweat and chlorine, and then they left headquarters with their legs and arms heavy and burning. It would start all over again the day after next, with more reps or more time added on to their sets of workout routine- pushing Loki harder and faster. Clint had already gone through the whole process years ago when he became an agent of SHIELD- it had been grueling and painful and he had thought he wouldn't make it. But he was doing it again at Loki's side to make the god feel like there was a partnership between them. There already was; Loki and Clint knew they were partners in SHIELD when they would eventually get their missions, they knew they were partners in their relationship; but Clint did it for the same reason couples dieted together, worked out together even if one of the duo didn't need to do those things. It made the other feel loved, appreciated. Made them feel like the other cared. So he sweated and strained and complained at Loki's side.
On the back of the couch, right as they opened the door of the apartment, Clint saw a box as long as his hand and not too tall and it made his whole face light up. He hopped over to it with a chirp of glee, making Loki give him an odd look as he toed off his boots by the door. Clint opened the lid of the box and grinned wider, turning around with it in hand and sliding up to the god's side.
"Look, look, look! I got you something."
Loki looked carefully between the blond and the box, slightly suspicious, seeing as the package was miraculously in their abode and Clint hadn't left his side in weeks long enough to find gifts. Clint flipped off the lid again and waited as Loki inspected the contents.
Knives. Long and sharp with the edge of the blades colored in a shade-shifting hue from warm gold to sickly green. The handles slightly curved down were wrapped in gold twine around the matte black of the metal. Loki stared down at the knife on top of a couple sheets of wrapping paper, concealing the few other identical weapons beneath it and he had no words. Clint didn't take his lack of reaction as a bad sign, half-hoping the gift would render the god speechless, he instead reached inside the box to lift up the knife and hold it out by the top of the blade. Loki took it gently with his fingers caressing its hard edges and catching against the twine of the handle, staring with wide eyes at the colors changing along the sharp edge as he turned it in the light.
"There's four of 'em," Clint supplied gently. "I'm gonna have the guys at work make a holster for them. You can wear them on our missions... If you want."
Loki smiled. "I want."
"Yeah, I figured," Clint chuckled.
"Where- How did you procure these without my-"
"Doesn't matter how I got 'em- I'm giving them to you now. I got my bow to keep me happy, but your knives are tucked away in a safe in Asgard probably, so... These aren't as fancy as yours but it's what we lowly humans have to work with."
Loki gives the knives a loving look and then meets Clint's eye with a smile. "Thank you. They're lovely." He moves in to kiss the blond, fisting the dagger in his hand and wrapping his arm around him to gently drag the tip of the blade up the leather coat and over the collar, touching the point to the tanned skin of his cheek and scraping along his jaw like a warning.
Clint groaned at the thrill of the knife along his face, eyes open to watch it move while he flicked his tongue out against Loki's lip teasingly. Loki broke away with a pleased breath and smiled still as he let the knife point skitter down Clint's throat and then hang at his side.
"Dangerous business, babe," Clint chuckled.
"Mmm. That's why I like it."
Clint reached up to kiss him one more time before heading into the kitchen with his explanation of 'thirsty' on his lips. He grabs a soda from the fridge and pops it open by the sink, where he takes a sip and reaches with his other hand for the plant on the windowsill. He waters it and puts it back, going to lift the window to let the neighbor lady know he was home and he stops short when he sees a dark form of a man walk by in her kitchen, all dark clothes and ski mask even. Panic suddenly shoots through him and he's shouting at Loki when another man in black scurries past the kitchen window.
"Loki, you know how to get to that woman's apartment?" he asks hurriedly as he runs into the bedroom to grab his gun. Loki stands frozen in the living room as Clint comes rushing back in and out the door, calling for Loki to follow. The god stumbles up behind him, questioning and a little bewildered as Clint tells him what he saw. Loki leads the way into the next apartment building and up to the woman's floor, but then he backs away for Clint to get ahead of him when they reach the door, gun at the ready. Clint wastes no time listening in to assess the situation, he just thrusts his shoulder into the door to throw it open and he checks his blind spots. There's a loud shuffling through the right end of the apartment where it leads away, most likely into the bedrooms, and Clint can hear that there are two men moving heavily around, but another sound like struggle and faint groaning.
He peeks around the corner to see down the hall, finding the open-walled kitchen and then further down another few doors, all of them open. But it's the pair of feet, one slippered and one bare just poking into view on the floor of the farthest room that gets him running down the hall, heart pounding as he hopes she'll move her feet before he can reach her. He hears Loki stepping down the hall at a slower pace, but Clint's unconcerned for his lover just then- he barrels into the room and stops short at the sight of a black-clothed man kneeling at the woman's head and Clint aims his gun up to shoot him just as he hears a shout of his name and then another body jumping against his back, wrapping arms around him and pulling down his weapon. It's a struggle when Clint's being pulled back and forth, Loki lunging onto the man at Clint's back and pulling him down as the man who had been kneeling rose up and grabbed Clint by the hair and slammed his fist into his face. Loki was snarling as he wrestled the man away and more shouts were heard from Loki and another man that just made an appearance, taking Loki by surprise. As Clint's ears started to ring high pitched from the pain in his face, he noticed a slight feeling of wooziness that was coming upon him. He belatedly felt soreness in his right arm and he looked down at it like time was moving slowly, seeing the red dot of a needle-prick before breathing hard like he couldn't catch his breath and looking back up slowly at the black figure above him. He wasn't even sure when he'd started falling to the floor, but he was unconscious before his knees touched the ground.
When Clint awoke next, sight blurry and breathing labored and thick like the air was muggy. His body jerked reflexively as his brain began to wake up, sending signals of worry when he found himself kneeling on a hardwood floor and his arms wrapped around a pillar from behind. When his heart began to flutter in panic, Clint took slow breaths through his nose and forced himself calm, eyes flicking around the area to assess the situation. The walls were white, large barred windows along the wall to his left, and thick, white pillars like the one he was chained to blocked the view to the entire room. Chained to another pillar he saw the woman from the apartment, chained and kneeling just like he was, but her head hung down to her chest, still unconscious. There was faint sounds of voices nearby, and Clint could see someones shoulder peeking out from behind a far pillar.
On his left a door opened with a clank and a slim man with thick glasses rolled a canister on a dolly into the room. He glanced at Clint as he pushed the dolly by towards the direction of the voices. The man seemed to not give Clint a single thought, looking away calmly like he had been window shopping and saying aloud:
"Your guy's awake."
The shoulder shifted and the rest of the body came into view as another man turned around the pillar to see Clint for himself. There was a scraping of chairs against the floors and then three others came to see as well. The man rolling in the gas container simply went about his business, unloading it from the dolly and tapping the glass of the pressure dial to read and make notes. The shoulder-man walked closer to Clint and Clint put on a blank expression, waiting to hear the word. What he heard was a clinking of chains from the other side of the room, behind a pillar he couldn't see around. Clint felt a little relief as the sound let him know Loki was in the room. The man glanced in the direction of the noise before ignoring it and squatting in front of him, elbow on his knee and holding his chin up on a fist. He looked curious and contemplative.
"Clinton Barton," he says simply and it makes Clint's eyes tighten. If he notices he doesn't show it, smiling slightly as he admits that Clint's appearance in the woman's apartment caught them off guard. "We had a hard time getting your friend to go down- he's got a resilient spirit." And then he chuckled and hitched a thumb over his shoulder at one the guys behind him. "Almost broke Abe's face with his head!"
At this there's a faint and quick snort from behind the pillar, chains tinkling again, and Clint's eyes automatically follow the sound.
"Yeah he's got a few bruises, some cuts. Maybe a broken bone, but I'm not a doc.- I dunno." The man shrugs with his words and Clint's chest tightens in worry. The man looks behind him when a scoff is heard.
"I've had worse from you, darling." And it is Loki's voice, and Clint can't help the chuckle that breaks out of him from Loki's accusation. The man smirks at the comment, seeming to admire Loki's fire.
"What do you want with her?" Clint nodded his head in the woman's direction.
The man pursed his lips and shrugged mildly like the situation was no big deal. "She's just another of the chosen to join the flock. And now-" he got up with a grunt and smiled gently- "so are you." He patted Clint on the head lovingly and turned away with his men to the chairs hidden away behind the pillars, leaving Clint speechless. The men noisily pulled up their chairs and continued their conversations as if the interruption had never occurred.
Clint scoffed to himself, surprised by how easy these guys were taking everything, how easy the boss had spoken to him- meaning no harm by his tone but his very being gave off a weird vibe that rubbed Clint the wrong way. He shifted his arms which were aching by the angle they were pulled back at, wrists clamped down tight in cuffs with only room for a link of the chain that wrapped around the pillar. He sighed resolutely, knowing he'd just have to wait and see what the goons had planned for them.
"I don't suppose any of the workouts have enhanced your godly strength have they?"
Loki didn't snort or laugh like Clint had expected. Instead the god repressed a sigh of his own. "No. I couldn't break out in my position anyway, unless I wanted to tear off my manhood with the force of the chains whipping about. I'm assuming you were not chained the same way as I have been."
Clint glanced at the still unconscious woman again. "I'm like her, if you can see her."
"I can. And I have more restraints than that."
"Good- that means they're scared of you. Can you see them?" he asked and listened ti Loki's chains as the god moved around.
"Very little of them, but yes," Loki confirmed quietly.
Clint closed his eyes and continued to breath slowly. It wasn't an ideal situation to be in- chained to poles with a hostage and a green-horn agent, but he'd make do. He decided to think of this as a training exercise.
"Tell me what you see."
There was more chain clinking and a sniff from the god as he got into position.
"A table the men are sitting at," Loki began. "A... cylinder? A metallic cylinder that was brought in-"
"Anything written on it?"
"No. Numbers: 10651-A. And... helmets of some sort? I'm not sure. Masks possibly but they're strange."
Clint's brows furrowed and he shook his head. "Strange like what?"
"I'm thinking," Loki snipped and then he seemed to come to a devastating conclusion. "Gas masks. I've seen them in films- they're gas masks."
"What the fuck?" Clint whispered to himself. "They're going to gas us to death?"
Just then, the woman began to stir, body trying to lean and lie from its kneeling position, and moaning as her brain tried to focus again. Just as Clint had done she jerked in her bonds and began to panic before Clint attempted to calm her and draw her attention. She looked at him with wide, scared eyes and drew a blank face when he asked her name. She shook her head to clear her mind and took a moment to remember herself, stammering as she spoke. Her name was Imelda.
"Well, it's nice to meet you finally. I'm Clint. You already know Loki."
Imelda looked in the gods direction and then back at Clint.
"What's going to happen to us?"
"They're going to attempt to kill us," Loki said bluntly and Clint clicked his tongue when the gods words made Imelda's eyes widen in renewed panic.
"No, no- Loki, dammit-"
"I'm merely being honest."
"What the hell happened to being a god of lies?"
"Only when it suits my purpose."
Clint rolled his eyes and looked towards Imelda again.
"Yes, okay, they're going to try to kill us, but that's not going to happen. We're going to wait these assholes out, and then make our move when the time is right."
"And would you care to let us in on your plan?" Loki requested saucily.
"No, because I don't have one. I'm just gonna wing it."
Clint swore he could hear Loki's dickhead smirk.
"My Hawk," the god praised quietly.
Clint snorted at the god, but he loved Loki's tone, one that said he took pride in the agent. When the leader of the band of bad guys started waltzing back over to them, a pleased smile on his face, Clint stiffened and watched Imelda put on a brave face. She sat up tall from her position on the floor and met the guys eye with a condescending glare of her own.
"Good morning, my lady!" he announced and made the move for a tiny bow in Imelda's direction. The Irishwoman was having none of it, snarling:
"What the hell is meant by this? Who are you?"
The man chuckled and looked at his cohorts. "The Irish have such fire." Then he turned his attention to her again. "My dear, you may call me Prophet- everyone does. And!" he took a deep breath and folded his hands together in front of him- "I am here- you are here, to get closer to God."
Clint suddenly belted out a disbelieving laugh and hung his head. "Oh my god," he muttered with a smile. The archer hadn't tried to keep his sentiment to himself, surprised and amused by the theatrics of the 'Prophet'.
"Are you having trouble with attendance in the chapel?" Imelda snarked, but Prophet wasn't offended by her words.
"Not at all, ma'am. This is a chapel in itself. Any place where we may worship out Lord is a church, be it a palace or a hovel. You and your- gallant friends have been chosen to join God's precious flock!"
Imelda didn't have anything to say then, but her eyes tightened in quizzical suspicion. Prophet smiled at her expectantly and when she didn't say anything more, he clapped his hands together and sighed.
"Well! Let's get started then. Gentlemen-" he turned to his men and they dispersed, gathering things and making noise. Clint couldn't see, but he heard the metallic 'bong' of the canister being tapped. When Prophet came back, he wore a black two-cylinder gas mask over his face with a white cross painted onto the forehead. One of the men, also is a gas mask- they all wore one- rolled the canister behind Prophet on the dolly. The Prophet sighed happily and turned to see all of his captives.
"Well gentlemen, and lady, let's get to work. Now I need everyone to remain calm during this process," he warned as he gripped the valve of the canister and slowly twisted it, letting out a hiss of its contents. He continued to open the valve until it made no sound, open completely to let the chemicals flow out.
"Everybody breathe deeply," Prophet murmured.
Imelda twitched under her chains, fear dawning on her face.
"Oh lord!" she moaned and wiggled in her restraints.
Clint could smell the chemicals immediately and it was an automatic response to hold his breath, but he wouldn't be able to hold it indefinitely and he breathed again in the next moment. He wondered how Loki would fare against this onslaught and the heart pounding thought occurred that maybe it could kill him. They were all meant to die in here, but Clint was sure it wasn't supposed to be from the gas. As he inhaled the chemicals, it was a disgusting smell, he shook his head to somehow clear it out of his head. He suddenly felt so... floaty.
"I understand this doesn't smell so much like mother's home-baked cookies, but it's something we'll have to work through," Prophet said sadly. He sounded as though he actually cared about them.
The sound of Prophet's voice became more and more endearing and Clint felt somehow protected by it, though his brain -just a small portion of it- was alarmed by the turn of events.
Prophet turned away from Imelda, going over to Clint and crouching at his kneeling form. Clint had to fight the urge to inch closer to him and he took deep breaths to calm himself as he usually did, but it was only bringing the chemicals deeper into his brain.
"Now, I know the madam is a God-fearing woman, but what about you? I'm assuming not."
Clint snorted, the words of religion clearing a path in his head just a bit and he had an epiphany- the 'spiritual killers'. That's who these people were. Then he giggled uncontrollably and sighed when he finally composed himself, staring down at the floor blearily while Prophet watched him.
"I know a god," Clint wheezed. "I fuck him every night too."
He chanced a glance up at his captor and saw his eyes widen at the blasphemy from behind his mask. Oh Clint loved it. He made his face go slack and he leaned up to talk confidentially to Prophet, but he spoke in a normal volume.
"You wouldn't believe how tight he is," he grumbled low in his throat and then he giggled again. "Fucking heaven in that body!"
Prophet balked at the vulgarities and looked behind him where Loki would be behind the pillar.
The god hummed with intrigue:
"Hawkeye, if I was capable of being embarrassed my face would burn like the fires of hell."
Prophet seemed to collect himself and he stood, looking down on Clint with disappointment in his eyes.
"I see- a heathen. But you know, God accepts all if they only ask for forgiveness-"
Imelda suddenly moaned, her body hanging limp and head down. Prophet left Clint and touched his fingers to the woman's chin, gently lifting her head to see her heavy-lidded eyes.
"Darling," he cooed. "Are you ready to meet our Lord?"
Imelda's eyes fluttered as she came to attention and she hummed happily.
"I get to see Him?" she asked slowly, the drugs in the air making her calm and gullible. Turning a middle-aged woman into a love-seeking teenager. Prophet cheered happily behind his mask,
"Of course! But my dear we must first lend an ear to your friends- they have not yet accepted Him in their hearts. Will you help me?"
Imelda gave him a lopsided grin and agreed, and then Prophet signaled to his men, untying her from her chains. He led her by the hand to Clint, but they didn't kneel with him.
When Clint saw their feet in his circle of vision he snapped his eyes shut and held his breath again. The chemicals were already in his system, he knew that, but he hoped to steel himself against anything they had to say. He wouldn't be swayed by Prophet's bullshit and his stinky ass chemicals. But it took everything he had not to look up into Prophet and Imelda's eyes and ask them to help him. He struggled to keep his breathing under control and he jumped in his skin when the click of a magazine being fitted into a gun was heard. He looked up at them finally, watching Prophet hand the firearm to Imelda and start whispering in her ear through his mask. She looked absolutely pleased at his voice. Her hands moved while he talked to her, snapping the chamber back to load the first round.
On the other side of the pillars, Loki moaned and began to chuckle.
"I hope it's you holding that gun," he swooned.
The sound of Loki's voice brought him out of his daze some, trying to focus his eyes between the two standing in front of him as though he could see Loki through the pillar. The god suddenly laughed and said,
"I don't think these chemicals are working in the way you hoped, Prophet- I am incredibly aroused."
Prophet either didn't hear him or he just wasn't going to entertain the notion, but Clint would. It was something to focus on.
"You're hard? Right now?"
"Oh yes."
Clint snickered and shifted in his chains, feeling a sharp ache in his shoulders.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he rasped and Prophet suddenly snatched his head up by the hair and forced him to look at them.
"Now boys, silence in the house of the Lord," he chastised and Clint whined, delirious and amused.
"But he was going to describe what he wanted me to do to him!"
"Yes, let me tell my 'sheep' how to worship me," Loki added.
Prophet still held onto Clint's hair and he looked back in Loki's direction, saying gruffly-
"You are no god."
Loki clicked his tongue. "We all know that's not the truth, don't we?"
"Yeah," Clint moaned, "Tell us the truth, Sir."
He wasn't sure if he should be surprised or not by the swell of blood in his cock, but the sensation was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he thought Loki just had that random effect on him. The drugs were probably not helping.
Prophet talked over Loki, who began describing in detail a scene of him and Clint in bed, and he gave Imelda an exasperated look.
"Dear, these boys might take more convincing than I thought- it will take a while , so how about you go first to the Lord and then they'll meet you there later. You can show them around."
The Irishwoman smiled sadly at Prophet but she agreed and asked him to show her how. He touched the gun in her hand and she looked down at it like she'd never seen it before.
"I already gave you the tool," Prophet whispered. "Use it."
The implication of what he'd said didn't occur to Imelda in her drugged state, completely under the crazed man's suggestion and whim, though Clint's head snapped up and his eyes were wide. She looked at the gun closely, almost in reverence. But Clint couldn't think of anything to say suddenly. He knew she probably shouldn't do what Prophet wanted her to, but everything was still so hazy in his head- he couldn't think of a reason not to.
Imelda raised the weapon to the side of her head, just touching the muzzle to her skull and Clint's heart thrummed in his chest and he couldn't tell whether it was in panic or morbid anticipation. But his thought was 'what about the jazz?'. She didn't look at anyone, not even Prophet, who had stepped away from her side. She merely gazed ahead at nothing, her eyes open in a mixture of worry and want, and Clint knew she was still conscious in her own head and knew the problem that her action would cause. She would be dead.
With a wham! the door beside Clint flew open, slamming against the wall, and one of Prophet's men tripped inside, running in and up to the canister, turning off the valve with shrill squeals of the wheel.
"Prophet, they're coming! Cops are coming!" He gasped out and started to wheel the dolly away quickly, leaving Prophet dumbfounded.
"What?!"
The other men waited for no word, pulling off their gas masks and scattering, running for their gear and supplies. Two helped the man with the dolly, hurrying him down the stairwell and out of sight. While his men scurried around the room, Prophet cursed and flapped his hands against his thighs, groaning and exasperated. He stood in the middle of the trio- one standing, lost with a gun to shoot herself in the head, and the others chained up to the supports; one hard and one silly. Prophet snatched the weapon out of Imelda's loose grip, making her look at him sadly as though she were a child whose toy had been taken away. Tapping the gun against his leg he sighed again in his mask and he bent over Clint as the last man came in and out with the last of their stuff, calling out to his leader.
"Prophet, they're coming!"
Clint watched Prophet's eyes squint at him behind the mask and he shook the gun in Clint's face.
"This is your fault- I know."
He began to walk away towards the door out.
"We'll continue this another time, dear! Next time, gentlemen, I hope you'll be in a more receptive frame of mind."
And then he slammed the door behind him and they listened to the tapping of his shoes down the concrete steps. Left alone in silence, Clint sputtered in laughter and Loki soon began to chuckle with him.
"Oh-ho-ho my god," Clint wheezed. "Who's coming?"
"You, when we get out of this," Loki mused and it made Clint hum. Imelda still stood, confused until CLint told her to sit down on the floor with them. The chemicals were dissipating from the room but they all still felt the effects of it in their systems and probably would for a few more hours at least. When the choppy sound of a helicopter neared, Clint looked up at the ceiling, listening to it float over the building, and then the door burst open again, people in black with guns crowding the opening. They shuffled into the room, two of the men aiming their weapons at Clint and Imelda, one finding Loki and doing the same while the others checked out the room and yelled the all clear.
Boots echoed in the stairwell and Natasha appeared at the door in her tight suit and her guns holstered. She wanted to smile at Clint, he could tell, but she held it in and sighed at him.
"Really?"
She turned and yelled down the stairs for a set of bolt cutters and then came into the room, helping Imelda up and asking if she was okay. Imelda didn't really have an answer for her. Clint however, couldn't shut up. He started snickering.
"Phht! Loki, the Spider's here to save the day!"
Loki started chuckling while another SHIELD grunt ran up the stairs with a bolt cutter in hand.
"That has nothing to do with 'winging it'," Loki pointed out.
"Who knew?!" Clint said hysterically as his chains were cut open. His arms fell to his sides and he groaned harshly, shoulders aching. He shakily staggered to his feet and Natasha was at his side to help him as Imelda was led away by some of the armed agents. He stumbled around the pillar, still absently chuckling about nothing when he saw Loki getting his own chains cut down. He'd been tied with his arms back around the pillar like Clint had, but also his legs had been bound the same way, forcing his knees open and his back straight against the pole. Loki let his arms drop and he slumped away from the pillar while Clint fell to his knees beside him, laughing but trying to hold it in. Natasha was attempting to get him up, telling the men they had to get going when Clint suddenly gasped, grappling at Loki's shoulders and scrabbling behind him to climb onto his back. Loki was on all fours, gasping with laughter and letting the archer do as he pleased while Natasha stood by and rolled her eyes.
"Loki! Loki, Loki-" Clint stammered, shimmying onto the gods back and wrapping his arms around his neck. "Nat says- hehehe- Nat says we gotta go. Let's mush!"
Loki reeled in his laughing with a shake of his head, blearily standing up, hunched and holding Clint's legs above his hips. Humming his laughing behind his lips, Loki staggered through the room and down the stairs with the archer on his back and Natasha following behind them dutifully.
Outside, a whole crew of SHIELD agents swarmed around the blocked off perimeter of the street and sidewalk and they all stared when the god stepped out of the building, choking on his howls. Natasha stepped out ahead of the piggy-backing pair and led them to a black van, wrenching open the back doors and motioning them inside. Clint complained about having his ride end so soon but Loki let him down and Natasha pushed him into the van, letting Loki get in himself. She slammed the doors behind them and walked around to the cab, getting into the drivers seat and telling Imelda in the passenger seat that everything would be okay. When Clint hooted through the small hatch that separated the cab from the back of the van that he wanted to be taken to Burger King, Natasha slammed the hatch shut in his face.
With the long bed of the van darkened, Clint's laughs died down and he slumped onto the bench at Loki's side, leaning into him and slapping his hand on his thigh. Loki wasted no time pulling Clint's hand up to cup his bulge, pressing over his fingers. Clint hummed with interest though he was very tired in the darkness, and he massaged the god through his pants. He pressed his face into Loki's neck and breathed in him and mumbled.
"Mmmmwhaddyawant? 'Cause I migh'not b'able to finish you off."
Loki sighed breathlessly and tipped his head back to rest on the vibrating walls of the van.
"Just keep going."
"I'd blow you if you let me."
"You would fall asleep on my cock and more than likely choke yourself on it."
His weariness floated away from him for a moment as he pictured himself as Loki described and he thought of a baby sucking on its thumb as it slept. The image was slightly morbid but he began to chuckle anyway, his whole body shaking but when Loki grabbed his retreating hand to fit it over his crotch again, Clint tried to be serious and focused on making the god feel good.
By the time they'd reached headquarters Loki still hadn't gotten off, but he'd enjoyed the playtime. Natasha flung the doors open and the two climbed out, ready to be examined every which way for the chemicals they'd inhaled; asked over and over about what they'd seen and heard until they sat in the meeting room alone, waiting.
Clint swiveled his chair back and forth, head back and mouth hanging open as he stared up at the ceiling, counting the tiny perforations on the tiles. Loki had one arm on the round table, resting his head in his hand and he sighed irritably as he rubbed his other hand over his clothed cock.
"Still hard?"
"Yes," the god grumbled.
"I'd say I'd fuck the shit outta you when we get home, but that ain't gonna happen- I'm high as fuck... Hungry."
The door behind them swished open and neither turned to see who came in, as usual. It was always the same people anyway.
"Well, agents," Fury said as he moved to the opposite side of the table. "I trust you're feeling better."
Clint didn't move his gaze from the ceiling tiles.
"Need a food machine in here," he said.
"Food machine?"
"Hungry."
Fury looked neither amused nor irritated, he just nodded once and hummed. Natasha took her seat beside Clint and folded her hands on the table.
"The doctors said the residual effects are similar to cannabis- it'll be a few hours until his head stops swimming," she informed the Director.
"Weed don't give you blue balls," Clint blurted.
Fury closed his one eye and sighed silently while Natasha pursed her lips and looked over at Loki, who still faced down the tabletop with one arm moving slightly under it.
"The drugs seem to affect Loki differently, maybe because he's not human. He's- uh..." she paused to think of a polite way to state the god's predicament, but Clint beat her to it. With no politeness.
"He's hard as a rock."
"Please stop talking," Loki said, squeezing himself hard in hopes it would defer some of the pain of his arousal. It wasn't working.
"But maybe you'll come from the sound of my voice," Clint argued. "Should I talk dirty?"
Fury shot out of his seat and stepped quickly to the door.
"I don't want to hear any of this shit: debrief another day!"
And he left the room.
Natasha shook her head while Clint started cracking up, and she took them out of the meeting area, down to her car and she took them home. Clint decided to have the back seat, sprawling out and watching the buildings go by upside down, and Loki sat in the front beside Natasha, scratching his nails over his pants and trying as hard as he could not to touch himself in front of her.
When they reached Clint's apartment, she didn't help the pair upstairs, letting Loki drag Clint out of the backseat and haul him into the building. Loki pulled the archer into the bedroom and let him fall onto the bed while he shed his clothes. Clint breathed deeply, pleased to be home and he stared at the ceiling some more, stating again that he was hungry, but the god wasn't listening. He felt his jeans being pulled down his hips and his soft cock exposed and Clint felt a little ashamed of himself. He wished he could get it up right now so he could give Loki what he wanted, but there was no way it was going to happen.
He wasn't sure if he'd said it aloud or not but it didn't matter, Loki was suddenly crawling over him, pushing the archers shirt up his torso and laying down hard on top of him. Clint startled when something wet and firm pushed between his thighs, just under his balls and he was quite sad to find that his jeans were preventing him from spreading his legs to get away from that wet. Clint wiggled under Loki's weight, lifting a knee to move the sensation away but Loki growled at him and shoved his leg back down, keeping that hard, wet thing firmly squished between his legs. When the movement began, sliding in and out from his thighs, Loki's body surging up against his, Clint realized the thing was Loki's lubed cock and he thought that he'd never think to do that before.
"This is how you have sex with someone without having sex with them," he said hazily, staring up at the ceiling still and letting the god thrust himself through the squeeze of his legs.
Loki didn't answer Clint's half-thought up ideas and just panted into the archers neck, resigned to the fact that Clint would not be participating in any way except to let the god use his body until he was done.