Let's get a tiny glimpse into how their relationship is going, huh? Happy Tuesday. Here's a chapter of something super filthy and also somehow emotional. Idk. Enjoy xo

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"Training" was no joke. Clint had trained for things pretty much his entire life. He trained for how to stay out of his dad's way as a kid; he trained for the circus as a teenager; he trained for some pretty dirty work as an adult, and then for SHIELD when they caught him. He's been through "training" before.

This.

This was not "training". This was something else.

Every move Clint made was evaluated, measured, and judged. Every word he said had to be carefully considered before he let it fall out for fear of reprimand or punishment. It scared him to admit how that got his blood pumping and his pulse racing. The thing was, he didn't know the rules of the game. He didn't know what was and wasn't allowed yet. And you'd think that with a man like Loki at the helm, one should consider pretty much everything not allowed.

Not the case. 

Loki preferred when Clint spoke; he liked holding conversation with him, but the wrong word and Clint was on his knees with Loki smothering him in the warm crevice of his groin until he was red in the face. It wasn't an altogether unpleasurable punishment, but it was a warning nonetheless and Clint never forgot his mistakes afterwards.

Loki loved to cook, which was great because Clint did not. Some meals, he'd want Clint to sit on the counter and taste everything, giving his approval or corrections, until it was exactly to his liking while Loki stroked his hair and licked food off his fingers. Others, Clint would be pushed to his hands and knees while Loki used his back as a surface to hold kitchen utensils and dishware. Loki would ignore him completely, actually consider him an extra piece of furniture.

One night, Clint accidentally let a spoon fall off his back when Loki coincidentally brushed his fingers along Clint's neck as he whispered "good boy". Clint whimpered, knowing immediately that he'd fucked up, but Loki didn't say anything, didn't do anything. He picked up the spoon himself and dropped it in the kitchen sink to wash later. He finished cooking and set the table- just one place, Clint noticed when Loki tugged him over by his shirt collar- and sat down to eat with Clint waiting at his feet.

Only afterward did Clint finally get to be punished. "Get to" because he'd spent the entire meal shaking in anticipation, and the not knowing was the worst. He knew Loki wouldn't just let it go, but nothing was happening. Fear snaked through his veins more and more as Loki ate. Once he'd cleared his plate, Loki stood from the table and looked down at his 'it'- a concept that Clint still had trouble comprehending- on his knees on the floor. 

Without a word, Loki bent down and set the empty plate, still holding a few streaks of dinner, on the floor in front of him. Clint knew what he wanted; his punishment would be to lick it clean. Embarrassing but not intolerable. He leaned forward to do just that, but Loki's fingers were in his hair in an instant, tugging him back. The promise of wrath blazed in the god's eyes, and Clint found himself lost in it, begging to understand what it meant.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered, trying to lean into Loki's wrist, but the god released him and took a step back, leaving the archer to careen towards him. Clint whimpered; he never wanted Loki far away, he needed him right here, next to him. He needed to be forgiven.

Loki brought both hands to his pants and started working them open- that made Clint's eyes open comically wide. He was going to get his mouth on Loki. Maybe I'm sorry was good enough for now...maybe, because he was still new at this, Loki would be merciful. Clint was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He let his mouth go slack, swiping his tongue out across his bottom lip just so Loki would see how badly he wanted this. 

But then Loki wrapped a loose hand around his shaft just a couple inches under his glands, and with a crushing, malicious chuckle, aimed himself at the plate. The next second, Clint heard the delicate tink of liquid splashing against ceramic and his eyes snapped down. A stream of piss started to cascade from Loki's soft, pink cockhead straight onto the plate, splattering up where it hit and leaving droplets on Clint's knees, the floor, the dining chair, and table. 

The archer couldn't breathe, wouldn't have breathed to save his life. His eyes flicked from the plate to Loki's dick to Loki's eyes over and over in rapid succession until the stream ebbed and slowed to the last few drops, which Loki used to decorate Clint's chest as he gave his length a couple firm shakes. 

Clint huffed an unsteady breath of fire out through his nose at that. Loki had pointedly marked him with piss. He didn't have the brain function to even comprehend how he felt about it past the desperate desire to make things right with his god. 

"Drink it," Loki ordered, voice perfectly even. Clint had figured- he wasn't dumb- but hearing him say it was something else entirely. Despite his insane past, he'd never even accidentally tasted piss. He could only imagine what it would be like. 

Bitter. Foul. 

He took too long to obey. Loki cupped a hand to the back of his neck and shoved him, face down, into the small puddle of pale yellow liquid. Clint did what he could- squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath- until Loki wrenched him back up and he gasped for air. Piss dripped from his lashes and trickled onto his tongue with the force and he cringed. It tasted pretty much like he'd expect. Like piss.

"Drink it or I will drown you in it," Loki warned- his last one, Clint knew. He felt his will crumble inside his chest. Loki's voice soaked into his skin and weighed his body down, bending him. 

He bowed down at Loki's feet and settled his forearms on either side of the plate, taking one last swallow of courage before flicking his tongue out and swiping it across the dish. He shivered, horror and fear and even lust and relief coiling inside him. "There you are," the god cooed. "You'd begun to lose sight of your true purpose for a moment."

Loki dragged his chair to face Clint's flank and sat down, toeing off his shoes. "I think I did, as well. That will not be a mistake I make again, Barton, not now that I've seen how beautiful you look drinking up my release like a feral dog." 

The thing was, he didn't sound angry, but basal. Clint shuddered anyway; he nodded, tongue still hesitantly lapping at the plate. The taste wasn't getting any better, but Clint was fading, getting fuzzy around the edges. A sweet, soft pressure grazed Clint's zipper and he moaned, breath making tiny waves in the puddle. 

"The faster that you finish, the faster I will let you finish me," Loki informed him. The pressure increased and Clint could clearly feel the deft wiggle of Loki's foot tracing his hardening length. He had to drink it all anyway, he might as well get to the good part. 

Clint slurped harder, trying to focus more on the roll of lust in his gut at Loki's nonchalant touches than the bitter taste and pungent scent. It was like Loki didn't even notice he was getting Clint hard, like his foot just happened to be there and so did Clint's dick. He whined but kept drinking; he wanted to go back to sucking Loki off, living under a blanket of his cum, hearing Loki cry out his name. 

That was worth this.

When he'd finally, finally wiped the plate clean, and the floor and the chair and the table, he craned his neck and looked back at the dark-haired man. 

What a sight it was. Loki had one leg crossed over the other, foot disappearing under Clint's body where he was now straining his jeans; his hands were set calmly in his lap, but when Clint's eyes rose to his face, the deep flush of his lips- obviously bitten to soft redness- and the heady glaze over his eyes made the archer groan. 

"Sir?" Clint asked and then waited. 

Loki eyes seemed to focus on Clint's face after a few seconds, reluctantly dragging from the now clean plate. He stood gracefully and turned from his submissive, throwing a, "Follow," carelessly over his shoulder as he walked towards his bedroom. Clint didn't dare stand up, but he crawled as fast as he could after Loki, knees scraping harshly against wood and carpet through his jeans until he was sat next to the bed at Loki's feet.

The god reached down and cupped a hand under Clint's chin, leading him onto the bed by it and then flicking it free when Clint fell onto his back. Clint was vibrating; his body might just come apart if Loki didn't do something right that second. His lips were moving- he had so much to say- but none of it came out.

Loki hummed, seemingly enjoying what he saw, and crawled on the bed over Clint's body. He straddled the archer's thick shoulders and smirked down at him. "Exactly where you belong," he noted, almost dreamily. "At my feet, drinking my piss for your supper. Between my legs waiting to choke on my cock. You are truly where you are meant to be, my archer."

He was. Loki always put him exactly where he belonged. Clint's spine curved off the bed, agreeing with an airy, "Yes." 

His mouth was surprisingly dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth when he swallowed. He needed to be wet, slick with spit and Loki's cum. He dropped his jaw again, like he had earlier when he thought he'd get to have this. This time though, Loki just pulled his length out and gave Clint exactly what he wanted- what he needed. 

He slid along the submissive's tongue until the broad head knocked against his throat. Clint didn't gag, but it was a close call. He forced himself to open up, to relax and let Loki into exactly where Clint had wanted him all night. Loki must've felt his passage ease open because he sighed and slipped deeper, murmuring, "Exquisite," as he raked one hand through Clint's hair. 

Clint's eyes fluttered shut. The whole world was falling in on itself, collapsing and leaving only them and this moment and he was fading away and then it was just Loki. His hands were clenching Loki's bedspread in his fists; he wanted to touch so badly but he wasn't willing to risk losing this. The god's hips rolled, curled forward and pushed his cock deeper. Clint took it with a grateful hum. 

"What would you do without me here to give you what you need?" Loki wondered, obviously not interested in Clint's answer. "Would you simply curl up and beg for me?" Loki's hands were cradling Clint's cheeks, holding him in place will he shoved harder down Clint's throat. "Would you shake and cry and plead for me?"

Clint felt traitorous tears welling up in his eyes. He wanted to nod. He would beg, plead for Loki if he had to. He would do whatever he had to for this. Loki must've understood him anyway because his lips pulled into a prideful smile. "You would, "he confirmed. "You would give me anything- everything." He pressed in to the hilt with a low groan before sighing and swiping a gentle thumb around Clint's stretched lips. "As would I, my archer."

Loki's voice was whisper-soft but sure in his words. He left no room for doubt, yet Clint doubted all the same. He knew this Loki would do anything for his Clint, but he was not that guy. He could pretend- would pretend- if that's what Loki wanted, but they both knew better. He would never have this Loki like his Clint does, and he would never have his Loki like he had this one. 

If he couldn't be that Clint, then he would be better. He would make Loki see his value and understand why he was worthy. Clint sucked hard, cheeks hollowed and tongue pressed flat against the hot underneath of Loki's cock.

The god gasped, hip jolting forward hard enough that Clint's lips felt bruised. "Yes, Barton," he moaned. "I swear it. I would give anything to have this. I have given my all for this."

Loki squeezed his thighs on either side of Clint's head, leaning down to block out any of the dim light in the room, and spanned the whole of both sides of Clint's face under his hands. Clint was wholly under him, succumbed to him. The dark-haired man clenched his eyes shut and shook his head in obvious pain. "I have given everything for this," he admitted lowly and like a natural end, he inched just a tiny bit deeper and filled Clint's mouth with bitter seed, surprising him in action as he swallowed what he could.

The sounds Loki held in were nothing compared to the ones that escaped. Clint heard praise and curses intermingling as Loki fell to one forearm while the other hand stayed clenched around Clint's cheek. His flat stomach took up Clint's entire field of vision and it was calming in its entirety. He breathed deep through his nose and waited as the god's length twitched through the pleasure of coming in a warm, welcome home. 

When Loki pulled out and rolled away, Clint brought a hand up to swipe the small bit of cum that had dripped from the corner of his lips and lick it away. He heaved in air, trying to even his breathing again and trying to get the whooshing sound in his head to dissipate. When it finally did, he realized that Loki was still facing away from him.

"Loki?" he asked and then brought a hand to his throat at the sound of his ruined voice. He couldn't help the tiny flicker of joy. "Was I okay?" he urged and reached a hand forward to lay on Loki's shoulder. 

The god flinched away, but then Clint heard a long inhale and a sigh and Loki turned over. His eyes were wet but the tears hadn't touched his cheeks yet. "You were perfect," Loki assured and pulled Clint closer to kiss his forehead. "Go brush your teeth and come lay with me." Clint knew better than to counter a direct order, especially one so simple, but he wanted to say no, to stay and take away Loki's tears.

"Yes, sir," he answered anyway and climbed from the bed to use the spare toothbrush Loki had furnished the bathroom with for Clint. He hadn't officially moved in or anything, but he had clothes here. Loki bought the shampoo he likes to use. It was as close to normal as they were ever going to get.

He brushed his teeth and went back to find Loki still in his disheveled clothes, staring at the ceiling. "Loki?" Clint called, garnering his attention in the form of a distracted hmm? Clint stripped off his clothes as he walked over to the bed and climbed on, laying his body against Loki's and kissing his cheek. "Can you tell me?"

Loki curled an arm around his waist and nuzzled his cheek. "I haven't felt him again since before we began our journey together weeks ago."

Clint knew who he meant, but still, he said, "Other Clint?" A tiny, humorless huff of a laugh rattled Loki's chest and he nodded. "I'm sorry I'm not him," Clint offered; he didn't have anything else to give.

Loki made a sound of disapproval and rolled onto his side to look Clint in the eye. "Don't. You are exactly who you are meant to be and I would have you no other way." 

It was kind but didn't solve their problems. "You wish you were with him," Clint accused.

The god winced, then flicked his eyes somewhere around Clint's chin to contemplate before nodding. "Of course, I do, but I want this with you as well. I-" He swallowed hard and tilted one corner of his lips up. "While I had him in your body, I admitted to him how badly you needed me and how badly I wished to help you." Clint felt his whole body go very still. "He made me promise to do everything I could to help you, and it was easier than it should have been to agree."

"I don't-" Clint shook his head. "Why?"

Loki's eyes went soft as they focused on Clint's again. "Whether you are the man I have known or not, you are mine. Just as my Clint would belong to your Loki in some way. Until you can have what you need, I will give you what I can."

"What do I need?" Clint asked, but Loki just sighed, heavy and knowing, and kissed Clint slow and deep.

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I think next week will be more logical and less emotional turmoil. We'll get to see if Clint can obey orders. Kinky ones of course. Mwah! Xoxo, Jess