Y'all! This chapter is making me blush and it's nothing near the shit I'm 'bout to write later on in this fic! Things are getting interesting for our out of space and time duo. Enjoy xo

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A thick plastic chair clanged against the wall next to Clint's head, making him duck. A woman gasped, but then the room fell into silence. When Clint straightened back up and looked over to the god of mischief, he was looking right at Clint, hands cuffed in power dampening cuffs trembling in front of him as the last whispers of green dissipated from them.

"Clint," Loki whispered, like the name itself was too heavy for his tongue to carry. "You came."

Clint wanted to look away from the weight of Loki's eyes, but he refused; he'd already given enough of himself to that man. "I didn't have a choice," he said evenly then turned to the nurse that was holding a syringe of something. "Give us a minute?" It was a question, but also an order, and the nurse took it as such, leaving with a scared nod. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Loki took a step towards Clint. In the same moment, Clint drew a pistol and aimed the barrel at Loki's head.

"Hawk," Loki breathed, sweet and tempting, "we don't need that."

Clint fired off a shot about four millimeters from Loki's head. To Loki's defense, he didn't flinch, but his eyes closed and he gave a disappointed sigh. The archer pointed the gun back at Loki. "Don't call me that, or anything of the other monikers you've got, or I will put one between your eyes," he lowered the gun to Loki's crotch, "and one between the legs. Not in that order."

Loki's lips turned up in what could only be described as a pleased smirk. "You are just as defiant as my Clint," he noted.

Clint wasn't in the mood. "Sit down on the bed, hands where I can see them." Once Loki obeyed, Clint pulled the fallen chair back across the room and sat in it a few feet from the raven-haired man with his gun still in his hand on his lap. "Who are you?"

That seemed to amuse Loki further, his smirk breaking into a smile, one that seemed genuinely happy and looked all wrong on Loki's face. "I am Loki Odinson, child of Jotunheim and fellow Avenger." He added the last part with a haughty lift of his chin, proud beyond belief of something their Loki would spit at.

"I've always known you more as a lone wolf," Clint challenged.

Loki nodded, seeming to ponder the statement, before locking his gaze with Clint's and saying, directly into him, "Until I found you."

A shiver ran down Clint's spine, but he couldn't for the life of him tear his eyes away. "Not me."

The god hummed at that. "No, not you, but one like you all the same."

The question was hovering in the air like the cloud over Hiroshima, except the bomb was just about to go off. Clint didn't fidget, don't adjust in his seat. He set his jaw and asked, "You and the Clint where you're from- you're together." Well, he'd meant it as a question, but with each word he spoke, the truth of it became more and more apparent, and by the end it was a statement of fact. 

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "He is mine."

That broke Clint's composure. His jaw tensed and he had to cast his eyes to the floor. "You're controlling him," he assumed. "You still have the staff."

Loki's laugh broke the silence like a sledgehammer in a house of glass, brutal and sharp. Clint flicked his eyes up to see Loki's smile was full and squinting his eyes. "I haven't had the staff in many years, and Clint has not been under the influence of it for months longer. Though he is still under my control."

"How?" It came out more desperate than Clint intended and he checked himself, sitting straighter in the chair and clearing his throat.

Loki actually looked confused. "Because he chooses to."

A bitter laugh broke from Clint's chest at that. "Yeah, right. I would never."

The god shifted on the bed to cross an ankle over his knee and settled bed-chained hands in his lap. "You speak so surely, yet I can see the doubt in your words." Clint couldn't bark back; he knew anything he said right then would give him away. Loki didn't mind, just kept talking. "You refuse to acknowledge what it is you truly want. My darling Clint did the same when we first began our journey. You and he are much more alike than you realize."

Every word made bile rise in Clint's throat, but he swallowed it down and seethed, "You don't know anything about me." It was childish; he couldn't help it. He wasn't an interrogator- that was Natasha's job. 

"Do you have the same set of three large freckles on the inside of your left thigh?"

That surprised Clint enough that he instinctively squeezed his legs together like Loki could see them through his jeans somehow. "How do you..."

"I've kissed them many times."

"Oh, god..." Clint stood from the chair, shoving it back so hard it fell backward with a bang. 

Loki simply traced Clint's movements as he started pacing the room. "I know you enjoy raisin bread without the cinnamon. You have read every Tom Clancy novel, and forced me to read many of them as well." Clint snapped up to look at Loki, sure he'd heard wrong- you forced me- but Loki was tamping down a smile as he kept talking. "You prefer morning sex to afternoon sex. You enjoy being taken from behind and you once sat on your knees for two hours with my cock in your mouth."

"Stop it!" Clint screamed, mouth dry and the hand that wasn't holding the gun was shaking. He stuffed the offending hand under his other armpit and turned away from the man on the bed. He hated that Loki was enjoying this; he hated that Loki had so much to say about him; he hated that it was all true- save for sucking his cock for two hours, that was news to him. The news made his stomach roll and he rushed to the corner where a small trash can sat and vomited into it gracelessly. 

"Clint?"

That was concern- real, genuine concern- in Loki's voice. Clint couldn't take it. "Shut up," he growled, throat hoarse. He pointed the gun behind him haphazardly and said, "Shut up or I blow your pretty face off," as he leaned a sweaty palm on the cool wall. Clint took in sucking breathes and reminded himself to calm. down. 

He'd just brought his heart rate back into normal range when Loki piped up. "You think me pretty?"

It took a long second for Clint to realize what he was talking about, and then the archer cursed himself for the slip. He'd never have let that happen if he wasn't so confused! And the god was so confident it made Clint's skin crawl. He turned around and shot a bullet at Loki without hesitation. He wasn't sure if Loki would dodge it, and in the moment he didn't much care.

Loki leaned his head over, just a few inches, and tracked the bullet as it whizzed by and embedded itself in the wall. His head snapped back to Clint's with a look caught between impressed and put out. Clint rolled his eyes and shot another bullet at the wounded shoulder he could see was bandaged up under the collar of his dressing gown. That one landed, making surprise and pain wash over Loki's face. "For Hel's sake, Barton, stop shooting me!"

Clint lowered the gun and walked back to the chair, righting it and sitting. "I told you to shut up."

"I have never taken you more seriously, my hawk," Loki assured but there was a sparkle in his eye that undermined the statement. Clint raised the gun towards his again and Loki flinched.

"I also told you not to call me any more nicknames," Clint informed him calmly, glad to be taking some of the control back in the situation. 

Loki was starting to vibrate, eyes growing black and dangerous. "I should spank you for that." That startled Clint. He measured Loki with incredulous eyes; he must be joking. The hole in Loki's shoulder was already healing as sheer green tendrils snaked around it. The god's face turned leering and playful at the same time somehow, and Loki continued, "I should put you over my knee and mar your skin with welts and bruises."

He opened his body up, spreading his knees and leaning back, making himself appear three times his size. "I would rip your clothing to shreds and chain you to the bed. I would shower you in pain and pleasure until you wept, and not before you begged me for mercy would I touch you." He licked his lips. "I would devour you, taste you and fill you and turn your mind to white nothingness. I would break you." 

Loki was standing before Clint could even blink, his reflexes dulled by Loki's words, and glowing with a power that made the archer's mouth run dry. The chains connecting Loki to the bed disappeared- maybe they hadn't been there for a while- and he advanced on Clint, a predator stalking his prey. 

Clint was an easy kill at that moment, shaking yet frozen. Loki gripped him by the throat and lifted him from the chair, turning them both around and tossing Clint on the bed. The archer sluggishly brought his hands up to protect himself, but then Loki was grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the bed. He leaned down, pressing between Clint's thighs, and growled lowly into Clint's ear, "I would take you apart piece by piece until you were nothing and then I would play with each broken, exposed part until you were reshaped into mine."

The archer felt a broken whimper in the back of his throat, and must have loosed it because Loki snarled, a feral sound bubbling from him, and crashed his mouth against Clint's. The kiss could barely be called such. It was wild and forceful, Loki taking everything he wanted from Clint and more while Clint begged him with his sounds to be gentle and to hurt him all the same. It was a feeling he hadn't faced since Manhattan. 

Loki locked Clint's wrists into place with green swirls as handcuffs and used his newly-freed hands to push under Clint's shirt and rake his nails down his sides. Clint bowed off the bed, pressing into Loki's body and felt warm skin against his shirt. Loki must have vanished the hospital gown at some point and was flattened against Clint's chest so tightly there wasn't space to breathe without feeling the breath in Loki's body. The god slid both hands under Clint's body, cupping his ass in his jeans and pulling their hips together. Clint keened, breaking the kiss to throw his head back. 

"Tell me what you want," Loki ordered, soft but firm at steel.

Clint heaved in gulps of air, trying to straighten his mind out. What did he want? What did he want? "More," he murmured and buried his face in his arm as punishment.

"As expected," Loki recognized and waved all of Clint's clothes away except his boxers. The cool air of the room flooded Clint's skin, making him shiver under Loki's touch. The near-immortal couldn't keep his hands still, roaming Clint's body with possessive gestures and erotic movements. He tilted his head down and bit at the column of Clint's neck. The archer hissed and lifted his legs to wrap around Loki's hips, heels pushing into the backs of his thighs in encouragement. 

Loki kept touching Clint but didn't dip into the waistband of his underwear and didn't touch his beckoning erection. Clint tried to steer him in the right direction, arching for him and spreading his thighs, but Loki only rammed their barely clothed hips together again in a painful yet appetizing surge of friction. The god hummed, sympathetic, and licked over one of Clint's nipples.

"Please," Clint begged, tugging at the green cuff of magic but finding no give, then, more forceful, "Touch me."

It was a demand and not a request, one that made Loki still and shake his head. The physical will it took for Loki to pull back was clear. He brought his hand up to rest on Clint's stomach, looking down at him like he just realized something before saying, "You are not thinking clearly. You look like mine, but you are not mine." Clint huffed, annoyed, but Loki gripped his hip. "I would give much to take you, in any universe, but not like this." With that depressing news, Loki gave Clint one more kiss and stood up, leaving Clint to shiver as air hit his sweating body. 

"Don't do this," Clint begged. "You have me here, take me, dammit. Isn't this what you wanted the whole time? Isn't this what you wanted when you-" The archer squeezed his eyes shut.

War raged through Loki's features but he only took another step back and answered, "Not like this. I have pushed you too far and I apologize. I should have known better," he pushed fingers into his short hair and shrugged, "but I do not always think clearly when you are involved either." Loki came and sat next to Clint's still sprawled body on the bed and felt the man shivering. He released the cuffs with a wave of his hand and beckoned the archer with, "Lay here," and a pat to his lap.

Clint hesitated as he pushed blearily onto one elbow, but Loki promised, "I will tell no one of this. Please." He sounded so needy, not like Clint had ever heard him before, and that made the mortal curl up on Loki's lap as the god leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed. "Thank you," Loki whispered and laid a gentle hand on Clint's neck, stroking his jaw with a thumb and singing softly until Clint finally got the sleep he needed.

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Whoo! They've both got some things to work through that sex can't really solve. Which sucks for us, I know.

I'll post one more tomorrow, Tuesday, and then it'll be regular Tuesday updates. Cool?

Mwah! Xoxo, Jess