The next two days would be the longest of Clint and Loki's trip. Starting from the cabin in Dismals Canyon, Alabama, they drove, and drove… and drove. Six hours to the next big destination- a hot spring national forest. All in all, they were disappointed by the hot springs they couldn't really find, not wanting to explore the forests for an entire day just to find one. There was a runoff down some boulders in the city next to it, which collected the hot water in a little algae-coated cement spring. Which didn't allow people to actually get in and enjoy. You were only supposed to put your hand in to feel it. While there was a large facility for hot spring bathing and saunas, extremely pretty and extravagant, Clint had wanted to bathe naturally- naked and wild with trees all around. So they took matters into their own hands, and stripped down to their shorts, running through the throngs of tourists to jump the lip of the rocks and splash into the spring outside. Clint ran, rather. And slipped on the slick algae coating the floor, sending him crashing down, and Loki laughed at him and gingerly climbed in behind him, much to the gasps and outrage of the people behind them. They sat in the small pool for a few minutes, talking together while the tourists and locals walked up and said they couldn't be there. Loki flicked his hand at them in curt dismissal. When actual authorities started making their way up to the spring, Clint saw them coming and warned Loki, and they both jumped up and made a run for it, laughing hysterically as the cops tried to chase them on foot and lost them in the crowds. They dressed in clean and dry shorts in a bathroom and dressed, getting back on the motorcycle and gliding away down the freeways again.

They stopped frequently for snacks or actual meals; small towns with mom-and-pop restaurants where the food felt real. They stretched their legs, saw silly tourist sights like 'Worlds Biggest Ball of Twine' sort of thing, tons of landscape that seemed all the same and not after riding through half of the country. Clint skipped them through a lot of the second largest state in the country, preferring to make stops on the westernmost corner where Mexico and New Mexico joined it.

The last stop of the day was a winery, somewhere just outside a university town in Texas, taking the tour with another group of course. They walked through the winery, all the machines and tubs that fermented the wines, crushed the grapes. That was all good, though Clint was just waiting for the end where they got to taste everything. The land was pretty barren outside except for the actual vineyards, but out there as they moved from the facilities that would make the wine to the building to taste and buy, the tour guide stopped them all for a break. And to wash their feet and participate in grape crushing.

Big barrels sat in a line with stools beside them, half full with ripe, plump grapes. The tour guide insisted they give it a try, because when was the next time you were going to crush grapes underfoot like they did in the old days? A few girls jumped at the chance, getting their feet and legs washed off at a nearby station just for that purpose, and they hopped into the vats, giggling and squealing about the feel. Loki was interested in this part, having never done this himself but he'd seen it done at home in Asgard. Grape stomping was something done by commoners, but Loki had no problem rolling up his jeans and jumping into the barrel, telling Clint to be his helper and clear the spigot where the juice would come out. He smiled and laughed along with the ladies beside him, digging his feet deep into the mounds of grapes and feeling them pop open. Soon it became a contest- who could make the most juice the fastest. But it was all in fun, and Clint was glad to see Loki so enthused. When that so-called break was over, they were all actually quite worn out from stomping in the sun, the tour guide brought them to the tastings. The pair took their time, tasting in small sips, not that they knew anything about wine, but it had been fun for them nonetheless.

After they made their rounds, Clint chose a couple bottles of the one they liked best, proceeding to get hammered with them. The tourists saw no problem with that, ending up drinking enough glasses to not quite give a fuck. They were all drunk, but Clint wasn't quite sure if Loki really was. He seemed to be acting generally the same, though he had drunk a bottle of wine all on his own. Clint was wasted though, so comparisons couldn't really be made in his state. He danced with the ladies who started to wiggle around, letting Loki watch with a dirty stare. He had fun until he couldn't stand, trying to drink some more and getting cut off by Loki's firm suggestion that he'd had enough. It was getting dark anyway- they would take a taxi back into town to stumble into the hotel where they left the bike.

Loki held onto Clint by the shoulders and steered him through the halls, letting him laugh and stumble, ignoring him when he told Loki to get on his back and he'd carry him to the room. In their tiny hotel room, Clint almost giggled as he flopped face first onto the bed, trying to crawl to the pillows and stopping halfway when he couldn't get his arms to cooperate. He felt the bed dip further with the addition of Loki's weight; he expected Loki to lie down beside him. He felt hands at his hips instead, pulling him to his knees and Loki's hips pressed firmly against his butt. Inhibitions flying out the window, Clint hummed a groan and pushed back.

"Oh, shit, let's do it. You wanna fuck me?"

Loki took a shaky breath at the increased pressure on his groin, cock hardening against Clint's ass. "You are rather inviting today."

"Then let's get it- show me what you fuckin' got."

Loki leaned over him as he started yanking Clint's pants down his hips, grabbing a handful of his sandy hair and bending his neck back. "Be careful what you ask for, my dear tiercel," he growled and bit Clint's ear.

Clint sighed as his hair was released and he half-chuckled. "I was waiting for the day you'd call me that."

His mind blanked and his heart sped up in slight trepidation at the sudden rub of Loki's cock between his cheeks. He was a little worried, he'd admit it, sober enough at the moment to realize what was going to happen to him. He was so aroused, ready and wanting, but it had been a very long time since he was the one taking it. He was half-hard in his slight fear of being ripped open, and he couldn't move his arms from their position holding him up- there was no balance for him in this state of drunken arousal.

From just one slick finger slipping into him, Clint's head fell and he tried to hold back the sigh of relieved pleasure that filled him. He felt better that Loki was at least going to stretch him out a little, rather than ramming in like he would do. But Loki liked it that way.

He didn't receive as much preparation as he had hoped though, one moment enjoying the small intrusion to rev him up slowly, the next he was met with the blunt head of Loki's cock, slipping and stretching into him inch by inch. Clint gripped the sheets and hissed in pain, trying to hold out until the end. Loki moaned behind his teeth as he pushed further, slowly, and enjoyed every tense of the muscles surrounding his length.

"Fuck-" Clint groaned, face pulled into a painful grimace. "Fuck, slower babe; I can't take it as fast as you."

Loki retreated some with that, hearing Clint's sigh of relief and starting to push into him again, gliding his hand down the archer's back under his shirt to calm him. It gets easier as Loki adds a little more lube and goes in again, letting Clint sit and adjust every couple moments, letting him breathe.

"Are you feeling better?"

Head bowed between his arms, Clint nods, still pained by the burn, but he'd have to deal with it until he started to feel the pleasure. "Yeah, I'm okay. Feels good but it burns."

"I'm almost in."

"Okay."

Clint's hard on had flagged from the pain, but he didn't worry about it then. It would come back up when they got going. He bore the rest silently, waiting for the moment Loki's hips met his ass again and he sighed. Loki sighed too, leaning over Clint's back and running his hands down his chest reassuringly.

"When as the last time you did this to someone?" Clint asks quietly, waiting for his body to respond nicely to the intrusion.

"Would you like a number?" Loki pauses to think about it. "Twenty-seven years ago, when I seduced the stable-boy and let him ride me all night."

The image sent shivers down Clint's body, and he wasn't sure if it was the thought of Loki taking another man or the setting and situation that caused it. Loki felt the tremors and smiled, fingers slipping down to Clint's mostly limp cock and pulling it gently. He shifted to put his lips closer to Clint's ear, consequently pushing a little deeper into him and making him groan.

"He was so young; so fearful and willing..." Loki whispered. "He would do anything I asked- even stripping down naked and fingering himself on the hay. Mmm-" The story was even getting to Loki, remembering the night well and starting to thrust shallowly into Clint. "All I had to do was expose myself, and he put himself on it- I didn't even have to tell him"

Clint tried to snort, and it came out as a choked breath. "'Cause you're so scary it's hot. It's that dangerous, adrenaline fuck we like."

Loki chuckled and leaned away, holding Clint by his hips and giving one gentle thrust as a warning that he was going to start. Clint made himself steady on the mattress, widening the stance of his knees as far as his jeans would allow, and then Loki withdrew, pounding into him the next second. It was slow but hard, knocking the breath out of Clint with every thrust and shaking his body. But it felt so good, the burn no longer being a problem, just the pounding to his insides; Loki open-mouthed and panting, half-smiling that evil grin. The faster it became, the more vocal Clint got, dropping onto his elbows and letting himself be fucked.

"I could've had you like this," Loki hissed, digging his fingers into the meat of Clint's ass. "The Tesseract would have let me take you. And you would have loved it, just as you do now."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Clint admitted it, groaning and beginning to push back onto Loki's length himself.

"You want dangerous?" He continued and chuckled darkly, slowing his thrusts and keeping them hard enough to slap Clint's cheeks. "You want scary? Let's play then."

It was as if a switch had been turned on in Clint, somehow knowing automatically what Loki had meant, and he tensed against the sheets, pulling in his breathing to an even pace. And he smirked.

"Who's the next target, Boss?"

Loki cooed happily at the words, reaching into his jacket and coming out with one of his green bladed knives. "You, Agent Barton. The target of an experiment. Can you handle this? It will be painful." As he spoke he slipped the blade under Clint's shirt and sliced it open, letting it fall down his arms and to the bed. "It will be bloody."

Clint's breath caught in his throat at the warning, but not completely in fear. "I can take it, Sir."

"I thought you might." He took a moment to curl over the archer's back, whispering in his ear softly. "Trust me?"

Clint smiled and twisted to kiss him. "Yeah. I'll be okay," he whispered back, like they were being watched by a crowd. "Just don't stab me."

"I won't."

Then Loki drew upright again and gave the man a few more lazy thrusts to keep him in the game, but his dagger skittered up Clint's back to his neck, twirling the point there easily. Clint hissed when the point nicked into his skin, and as it dragged down the skin along the side of his spine, all the way down, his breath left him in a huff, body suddenly burning in a deep flush. It was a light cut, like a cat scratch, but it would still just barely draw blood. And he was hard as a rock.

Clint didn't like to think that pain turned him on, because most times it really didn't. Getting shot and stabbed, punched in the face or tortured- that didn't do anything for him. But a little scratching, some biting, a bit of bleeding… he didn't mind that. When a wet, pointed tongue dragged up the fresh cut, lapping up the tiny line of blood, it stung and cooled him down some. Loki rested his chin over Clint's shoulder, chest against his back, and he sighed, pushing himself firmer into him, touching all the sweet spots to make Clint shake.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" he asked in a light tone just as he suddenly dragged the knife down the side of Clint's ribs, drawing the same amount of blood.

Clint hissed behind his teeth and drew forward, stretching under the god and pulling some of him out just to shift his hips back to take him again. "No, Sir," he panted.

"You rather liked it, I think." His free hand had traveled down between Clint's legs and twirled his long fingers around the near dripping cock he found. "Mmm, yes, I think so." He wrapped his arm around Clint's chest, resting the flat of the blade against his skin and rocked his hips into him, starting to breathe unevenly. "And if I were to cut my name into you? Could you still be so swollen, after your blood runs down your body, scarred for the rest of your life by the God of Lies?"

Loki sat up again, thrusting into Clint harshly, grunting and slicing more lines down his back, light enough that of course they wouldn't leave a scar. But Clint wondered if Loki would really cut him deep enough to do that. Only if Clint let him. His light wounds were stinging, making him shiver just as Loki's movements made him jolt, and the alcohol in his system made the blood flow just a little more freely; still not enough to make a mess. And he suddenly wanted it.

"Do it to me," he gasped under the onslaught.

Loki's hips stuttered, like he wasn't completely sure he'd heard him, and he slowed to a stop. "What was that, Agent Barton?" He wasn't sure if they were still playing.

"You wanna mark me- then do it."

Loki wasted no time pulling out of the archer and pushing him over, letting Clint steady himself on his back, looking up at the god on his knees defiantly. He lay his legs around Loki's and glared up at him, panting and almost a little frightened, but still so hard, still wanting so much. The veins in his arms pulsed and muscles quivered as he held himself up on his elbows. Loki squinted at him almost in anger, maybe with a bit of questioning, and lashed out, grabbing Clint's throat and squeezing, making it just hard enough to breathe. Bearing down over him, Loki gets close enough to touch their noses, dagger absently dragging up Clint's belly and chest.

"Your arrogance will get you more than you ask, little tiercel," he growled, tightening his grip for just a moment.

The momentary cut off of his air didn't frighten Clint, still meeting Loki's eye. But he knew by Loki's words that he was confused, but still trying to play the game. Clint would have to be a little more in depth. And be polite to the boss.

"You don't have to say- you want me. You want to own me and you don't want anyone else to look at me unless it's to see your name." Clint was near panting, riled up by his own suggestions and he just couldn't believe what he was asking the god. "You're the master: I just need the collar."

Loki was stunned, and he showed it by the release of his grip around Clint's neck, though he still left his hand there. His face washed away the looks of the sinful, crazy master, and replaced it with caution and slight worry. "Are we speaking seriously here?" he whispered.

"Just don't make it a goddamn painting and it'll be all good."

Loki's eyes twitched back and forth between Clint's, reading them for the truth until he was sure he wasn't being deceived. "I love you," he whispered once more, a large grin on his face.

"I love you too."

And suddenly it was all business again- Loki dragged his nails harshly down Clint's chest, retrieving his angry squint and scooting up closer between his legs. He was scanning his eyes down Clint's tanned torso, picking out his favorite places, deciding where he would make his mark. Clint had started slowly stroking himself, not wanting to lose the good feelings he had just had until he turned over. He'd have to take off his pants to be fucked again, and Loki wouldn't want to stop what he was doing for that.

Loki hummed decisively, apparently having chosen his spot, and bent over him, rubbing his fingertips over the left of Clint's ribcage. He glanced up at the archer just once, and kept the dirty smirk on his lips as he touched the tip of the blade to the skin. With one hand, Loki stretched the skin taut over the last two ribs, readying the dagger for the first mark.

"Do not move."

Clint sucked in a shaky breath. "Yes Sir." He squeezed his own length hard in trepidation for the first cut, and when it came, his breath caught in his throat and he roughly, slowly, pulled on himself, trying to keep it alive.

Flesh being sliced open over his ribs, Clint closed his eyes against the pain, starting to sweat from the heat that rushed over him. The cuts felt giant. Long and wide and never-ending though he knew they were probably almost nothing. But it was deep, he knew that for sure. If Loki wanted to scar him, he would do it right the first time and make it so. When it was over- and he hadn't been sure it really was with how burnt up he felt, how tingly and shaky his body was- Loki drew away, letting his fingers drift over the wounds and away over his skin. Clint raised himself back onto his elbows, not really sure when he laid down, and looked at the ripped skin; the blood dripping over his side and onto the bed, starting to roll down his abdomen in small rivulets, smeared across his belly in the wake of Loki's fingers. He panted as he looked at his wound, making out lines and angles that didn't read into anything he knew. A name in a language he couldn't even read. He was entranced by it, by the blood, by the sting. By the branding. He barely realized that Loki was drawing his jeans off of him, belatedly helping by pulling his feet out of the legs. Loki had already shucked off his jacket and shirt, leaving on his own pants, and then he leaned down to Clint again, stretching out over him to slide their skin together, dagger abandoned and long-fingered hands roaming to spread the blood between them.

"You're mine now," he said, rolling their hips together and threading his fingers into Clint's hair, drawing him in for a sloppy kiss. Clint nodded as he accepted Loki's tongue, using his legs to draw him closer, and exactly where he wanted him- hardened length touching his entrance again and barely pressing. Breaking away to bite at Clint's collar, teasing by the subtle jerks of his hips, Loki nipped at his skin and smirked.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"It's what you wanted, Sir. Whatever you want."

"Oh- heh, how pliant you are now… I suppose I could reward you. It depends on what you want." Loki drew up to gaze down on him, arrogant and princely always.

"Fuck me, Sir."

Loki smirked again, sharp and pearly white teeth showing in the corner. He picked up Clint's knees and spread his legs, exposing everything he had to show, moving to bend him nearly in half before he entered him again in one pummeling thrust. Clint's hands went up to the headboard, bracing against it as he was brutalized, but with every breath punched out of him, every half-moan that came with it, he loved it. It hurt in the best ways, with Loki ramming into his prostate, rubbing his palm over the wounded flesh of his chest, the cuts on his back grinding into the sheets. He wasn't sure if he was drunk anymore, but this was a different kind of inebriation- where he couldn't get enough, nothing was enough to get him off. Not in this panting, moaning kind of silence.

"Fu- Talk to me, Boss," Clint pleaded, fisting his cock and dripping onto his belly.

Loki sighed with a growing grin and continued to piston into him harshly. "You think you control me- with how you speak to me in bed. But I run this operation! I fuck you and use you."

Clint stroked himself faster and let go of the headboard, reaching to hold Loki by the back of the neck and draw him down close.

"And you love it," Loki hissed. "You love being my pet, masquerading as the leader when I let you. You love how I fuck you- breaking you in half to take my pleasure and leave you dripping. Say it!"

"Oh- Shit, I fucking love it. Fuck me, Sir! Fuck me!"

Clint wasn't used to begging himself, making others do it to turn him on, but he had to admit that he wasn't too opposed to this. As long as it was only Loki making him beg. Loki lost himself to it, closing his eyes and hammering into Clint with abandon, and Clint couldn't keep his mouth shut, a stream of curses falling out until he felt it his orgasm hit. And then it was just more talking, because he can't even help himself. Jerking on his cock as he was fucked into the bed, his body tensed and squeezed around the god, making him dig his fingers into Clint's wound.

"Shit shit shit! Fuck- Yes! Yes, Loki- Fuuuck!"

As his orgasm rolled through him, Loki followed suit, teeth bared and almost snarling as he drove home and rode it out until he was panting. Both of them caught their breath, with Loki lowering Clint's legs to the bed and hovering over him, eyes half closed and worn out. Clint pulled him down on top of him, squishing his semen between them and smearing it into the blood, but they didn't care. They kissed hard and held on to each other, hot enough to almost turn them on again, but after a round like that, they wouldn't be able to pick it up.

"That went very well," Loki decided breathily as they broke the kiss and laid together.

Clint scoffed. "Did you expect it not to?"

"Well, you were very drunk… And I did not expect you to humor me like you did."

"You mean cut me open."

"That is what I mean."

Clint took a deep, tired breath and wrapped his arms around the god. "It was fun. I had fun. And now I'm tired."

Loki sat up, fingers trailing over Clint's wound gently now that the game was over. Clint's blood and cum mixed and smeared on his belly. "You don't wish to clean up? I don't want you to get infected."

Clint sighed and moved to sit up with a groan. "Ah, I guess. Wanna come with me?"

Looking down at the painting of blood and cum on his own stomach, Loki agreed and followed Clint into the hotel room bathroom, peeling off his pants and joined him under the hot spray of water. He quickly wet himself and stepped away to soap up, letting Clint get under the water and rinse the slow oozing blood out of his cuts. His eyes trailed down the thin lines that raked down Clint's back, feeling a little proud, but also a lot of love for the archer. He was warm inside at the knowledge that Clint trusted him so implicitly as to let himself be cut up; let himself be manhandled and made to kneel. Only for Loki.

"I know you're staring at me," Clint grumbled to his chest as he inspected his cuts. "What are you thinking about?"

Loki was pulled out of his musing and he softly smiled at Clint's back, continuing to wash himself. "Us," he said quietly.

Clint turned around and let the spray douse his back, stinging his cuts for a moment until they numbed. "Just us, huh?"

He reached for the shampoo and started to scrub it into his hair. Loki scooted by him to rinse off, and switched again when Clint needed to rinse his hair. He stared at the marks he made on Clint's back, stared at the wound that would scar. They didn't talk about it. Clint slapped a bandage over it when they got out of the shower and crawled into bed naked and still slightly damp, Loki following suit and forgoing his pajamas for the night. Clint lie on his back, finding that the sheets cooled his small cuts, and Loki curled into him, barely tracing a finger over the bandage covering his brand.

"You haven't asked me what it says," Loki noted quietly. There were no loud voices in the dark.

"I don't need to know," Clint decided after a little deliberation, shuffling to get his arm around the god. "Could be any number of things, but knowing you- the narrows it down to a few things. I won't say what- who cares? Do you like it?"

Loki hummed low in his throat. "It calms the animal in me to have you marked for me only."

"Then that's all I care about."

Loki hummed again and let the subject drop. He closed his eyes and listened to Clint's heartbeat as he fell asleep, waiting for the day his magic would return to him. Clint would be able to read it himself then.

Jeez, I'm sorry, I really had no interest in talking about much of what they did today, and I really wanted Clint to get fucked. So that's what happened and then it just... got crazy. I don't know what happens when I write these two, but it gets worse and worse and it's just really hot and scary for me. One more chapter of this traveling shit and then we're in Malibu.