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Contrition	By : Sinclaire_Threnody Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 3483 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither The Avengers movie, nor Marvel comics or any characters therein. No money is made from this derivative fanwork.

Chapter List
- 1-Contrition
- 1
   “Is this really necessary, sir?”

   Loki didn’t much care for the petulant tone in his pet’s voice, nor did he appreciate the fidgeting as he tested his bonds as if to seek a weak spot to exploit.

   He did, however, appreciate the way his forearms knotted and his chest flexed from the motion. To say nothing of the corded neck straining to keep his head upright against the tension of the ropes holding him still.

   “My dear Agent Barton,” Loki drawled, “did I not give you a direct order?” He circled around the chair in the center of the bare room, his eyes raking over the nude body held immobile with intricate rope-work he had learned from his many forays into the Tesseract’s infinite library of knowledge. It really was remarkable what kind of art could be inspired from such a base human desire as sex.

   Barton grunted in frustration when he could find no loose knot to exploit and decided to relax into the chair. “Didn’t think you were serious about that. Sir,” he added.

   Loki stopped his circling when he reached the blindfolded head of his favorite plaything, smirking to himself before taking hold of his Hawk’s hair and yanking his head back. Barton hissed against the unexpected motion, and arched his back to keep the pressure of the ropes from digging into very tender areas. Loki bent down to hiss into Clint’s ear.

   “I am always serious when it comes to the duties I expect of my pets, Agent Barton.” He gripped the brown hair tighter and twisted Clint’s face towards him. He lowered his face to the bound mortal’s until they were sharing the same breath. “You disobeyed me. I can’t let you get away with such... insubordination.”

   Barton wet his lips before taking a shuddering breath. “Yes, sir.”

   Loki released his hold, and Clint sank back down in the chair, breath slightly labored. He could feel the slightest of tremors, beginning in his chest and fanning out across his body, steadily growing in strength as Loki resumed his circling.

   “Now, what to do with you, since I have you trussed up like a game bird ready for the ovens.”

   Barton grunted indignantly at the comparison and turned his head from the sound of Loki’s voice. ‘Game bird,’ huh?

   Loki chuckled at the defiance his Hawk showed at the insult. Such an entertaining creature, this mortal. Definitely much more so than Selvig, or any of the other agents he’d managed to appropriate. He didn’t think he would care to have any of them in Agent Barton’s place.

   It seemed he was taking too much time appraising his work; Barton began fidgeting again, though less in an attempt to get free as to alleviate the tension Loki’s prolonged silence was causing in his over-sensitized body. The loss of his vision was crippling for someone so used to being able to see everything, and being exposed as he was made him feel like a full-body target.

   The labored breath became the anxious panting of a cornered animal, and Loki, though not normally so indulgent of other’s feelings, decided to stop the sensory torture. As he made another pass behind the mortal’s back, he ran a slender hand across the broad shoulders as if to stroke a cherished pet.

   Barton flinched at the contact, his body tensing and causing the ropes to tighten around him. Loki’s fingers trailed down his arm, squeezing the tensed, corded muscles in a mimicry of affection before letting go to stand before his ‘trussed-up game bird’.

   “So tense, my Hawk,” he murmured, placing his booted feet between Clint’s. The leather of his coat brushed against the sensitive hairs covering Clint’s legs, causing him to shudder anew. “Tell me, what is it you think I’m going to do with you that has you so nervous?”

   Clint huffed out a breath and tried to control the twitching of the muscles in his legs. “Don’t know, sir. That’s the problem.”

   Well, the thrall wouldn’t allow Barton to outright lie, so Loki could only take his word that the cause of his Hawk’s nervous energy was simply due to uncertainty of what his punishment would be.

   Perfect.

   “And were I to tell you,” he continued, “do you think it would make the tension any less?”

   Barton paused as if mulling the question over. “Probably not.”

   The laugh came unchecked from Loki’s throat before he could think to stifle it. Barton flinched at the sound; an amused Loki never spelled anything good for him.

   “Let’s test that, shall we?”

   Before Clint could begin to formulate an answer (the thrall was remarkably thorough sometimes), Loki had whisked his coat away with a flick of his hand and knelt before Barton’s spread legs, biting his lip at the display. Despite his attempts to hide it, Loki could detect the miniscule tremors wracking the body before him.

   “I will tell you exactly what I’m going to do with you.” He swept one graceful, long-fingered hand up his thrall’s thigh. The tremors stopped, only to be replaced with the steel-cord tightening of every muscle in Barton’s body. Even his breath caught in his throat, and Loki could see the frantic pulse beating against the pillar of his throat.

   And then he began to really play.

   “You really are an impressive creature, Agent Barton,” Loki sighed, lifting his hands along Clint’s body to his hips. He gripped the jutting hipbones tightly enough to almost bruise, taking care to hold back his true strength.

   Clint bucked his hips into the air, a groan held tightly behind his teeth. He felt the tell-tale warmth beginning to pool in his groin, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a flush beginning to creep down his chest.

   “And so responsive,” came Loki’s amused voice. “I haven’t even started yet.”

   Clint scowled behind his blindfold. If that was a dig at his stamina, then obviously Loki didn’t know as much as he thought he did.

   “With all due respect, sir, I thought you were going to tell me your diabolical plans for my frail mortal body.”

   Such impudence!

   “Fucking dammit!” were the next words out of his mouth.

   Loki glared and pulled his teeth from Barton’s inner thigh. He ran his tongue over his teeth and tasted the faint, coppery tinge of blood. He swiped his tongue over the small dots of crimson blooming on the otherwise unmarred skin.

   “Take care with your words, Barton,” he growled, eyes momentarily flashing red. “You do not want to challenge me twice in one evening.”

   Clint panted with the sudden adrenaline rush the pain had caused, letting his head rest against the back of the chair. “Just trying to keep you on track, sir.”

   The flush was definitely spreading, now, urged on by the rapid beating of his heart after that bite. There was also something definitely going on with his dick, a detail Loki couldn’t fail to notice.

   His ire banked itself at Barton’s cheeky remarks. If he were honest, he rather liked the back-and-forth that seemed to come as almost second-nature between them.

   But now was not the time for that.

   Loki gripped Clint’s inner thighs and spread his legs apart brutally. The chair scraped across the floor a few inches with an ominous, stuttering shriek. Barton balled his hands into fists and stilled his breathing for a beat or two. He mentally berated himself for his inability to keep his mouth shut at times like these -- not that there were ever times like these. It seemed even the thrall couldn’t keep him from getting himself in deep shit with his superiors.

   “I am going to make you regret every... little... barb, my Hawk,” Loki growled, punctuating every pause with another squeeze to his hips, flanks, thighs. “I will make you so hoarse from your cries you won’t be able to sling them like the arrows you are so very fond of.”

   Clint swallowed against the promise in those darkly-delivered words. He wasn’t bluffing this time, and Clint had no trouble believing he would be regretting his smartass remarks as he never had under Fury.

   The sudden sting of nails down his chest had him gasping at the ceiling, and he could feel the ropes digging in even farther as they tightened against his arched body.

   “And you are so very responsive, pet. I wonder, have you done this before? The loss of sight and movement is said to heighten certain... sensations.”

   “No, sir,” Clint panted, allowing his body to relax one muscle at a time. “Dealing with terrorists and international kidnappers made me a little hesitant to let someone tie me up.”

   Loki mulled this over as he surveyed the body before him. There was all manner of battle-damage written across his skin; scars and bruises told him that his pet was no soft, caged songbird but a raptor sent out by his keepers to hunt and kill.

   But he was hooded and jessed at the moment, which gave the trickster no small amount of satisfaction. The Hawk was his, and his alone, to do with as he pleased.

   “What a pity,” Loki murmured into the fevered skin of Barton’s thigh.

   “Sir?”

   Another bite silenced him, though this one was much more tame, simply a hint of teeth at the top of his thigh. The ropes were beginning to be a nuisance, now, and Clint was becoming slightly claustrophobic under their constantly-changing pressure. But he kept his mouth shut; mostly because of the thrall, but partly because he knew that Loki would be displeased if he started begging right off the bat. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.

   For the moment, anyway.

   That changed as Loki began exploring him more thoroughly, sometimes ticklingly soft, other times feral as a cat at a scratching post.

   For Loki, watching his pet unfold before him was an intoxicating sight. The motions of his muscles beneath his skin as he writhed, the heaving of his chest as he fought for breath, and of course, the most obvious sign of his arousal, the flesh between his legs growing hard and heavy. Barton may shy from the thought of being bound, but the reality didn’t seem to disagree with him at all.

   But this was supposed to be a punishment.

   His hands wandered up and down the frenetic, shaking muscles of his pet’s abdomen, keeping well away from those spots he knew were sensitive, interspersed with tiny, nipping bites to the trembling thighs. Never in the same place twice, it wouldn’t do to be too predictable.

   The ropes were straining against their limits; Clint couldn’t seem to sit still, Loki’s hands and mouth were everywhere and he couldn’t see or think of where he might land next. His toes dug into the cold tile of the floor for some kind of purchase against the teasing onslaught, but Loki’s body between his thighs was his main focus. He could feel his heat, like a furnace, and the warm puffs of his breath against his skin felt cool in comparison.

   Barton was throbbing for him, now, his cock twitching forlornly against his lower belly. Loki raked his eyes over the landscape he had wrought, pleased on some level, but still far from satisfied. His Hawk was being frustratingly silent in all of this, preferring to abuse his own mouth rather than give voice.

   Time to change tactics.



   With no warning, Loki’s hands left Clint’s body and he stood to his feet, looking down at the panting, trembling mess he’d made. A light sheen of sweat covered his body, highlighting the welts and bite marks he’d left.

   Barton panted at the ceiling, eyes closed behind his blindfold in a wince of frustrated longing. He felt cold in the absence of Loki’s heat between his legs, and he could feel the trembling begin again. At the sound of Loki’s boots against the tiled floor, his body tensed even further. He could hear him move around to stand behind him, his body attuned to every movement the other might make.

   Loki was grateful that Barton couldn’t see him at the moment. From above, his Hawk made a breathtaking sight, all corded muscle and aching need. There was an edge of his voice in the panting breaths that fell between slightly dry, parted lips. For a moment, he had the urge to bend down and lick across those lips with his own tongue to wet them.

   Instead, he lowered his mouth to his ear, letting his breath wash over the sensitive shell before whispering darkly.

   “I like seeing you like this, my Hawk. Bound, blinded and so very needy for any kind of touch.” He smirked at the strong throb of Clint’s arousal at those words. “Do you know how you look right now?”

   “No, sir,” Barton panted, wrists straining against the ropes holding his wrists together. He bit his tongue against any other comments he might make; he was already in enough trouble.

   Loki practically purred in Clint’s ear. “Well then allow me to help you with that.” He ran his nails up the bound arms just enough to sting and smirked at his pet’s startled hiss. “You look utterly debauched, Agent Barton. Every inch of you is tight and throbbing with need. I can see it all, my Hawk, I can see everything you have for me.”

   Once again, Loki’s hand fisted in Clint’s hair, yanking hard to the side to expose the column of his throat. He sank his teeth into the skin of his shoulder, hard, harder even than his previous bite to his thigh.

   Clint couldn’t hold it back this time; he shouted a strange mix of pained pleasure, ending on just the slightest hint of a sob.

   “I don’t want to just see, pet,” Loki hissed, blood staining his lips. “I want to hear you.”

   Clint swallowed hard, gave a few panting huffs of breath before lifting his head back against Loki’s grip. “Yes, sir,” he gasped.

   Loki’s hand left its nest in Clint’s hair to wrap around his throat, keeping him in place while with his other hand, he explored the rest of his bound body.

   The taste of Barton’s blood was beginning to have an effect, subtle at first, but growing steadily stronger the more he tasted it. The complete submission, the showing of throat, and the needy, desperate way he kept thrusting his hips onto the air were awakening a primal instinct he’d rarely given in to.

   To claim. To own. To take.

   The red trickling down Clint’s neck to his collar bone was too tempting; the trickster lapped it up hungrily before raking his nails back up the abused chest, catching on one of the ropes and tugging harshly.

   Clint gasped, at the sudden change in pressure as well as the sudden change in his captor. Loki was no longer cool and unaffected, and Clint wasn’t sure if he should be nervous about that or not.

   With no warning, Clint found himself once more bereft of Loki’s touch, and he swiveled his head to track the sounds of the purposeful stride as it circled back in front of him. He heard Loki fall to his knees between his still-spread legs before he felt the iron-tight grip pull his thigh to a hungry mouth. He hissed at the hard suction that pulled the blood to his skin, to be licked away by an insistent tongue like a cat with the last dregs of milk in a saucer.

   Then there was the rustle of clothing being stripped away, and suddenly, the ropes binding him were gone, along with the blindfold covering his eyes. Clint blinked against the brightness, but before he could regain his vision, hands were gripping his hips and tugging him off the edge of the chair.

   A pair of strong arms circled his back and tugged him down into Loki’s lap, his legs spread to either side of the god’s hips. Still reeling from the sudden return of his senses, Clint could only feel the hard heat of the others’ arousal as it pressed tightly to his own. He gasped at the rough handling and blinked his eyes open.

   Swirling blue met blood-red.

   Loki snarled and pulled Clint even closer, until his face was buried in the other’s neck to lap at the faint traces of blood still smeared across his collarbone. All Clint could do was wrap his arms around the god’s back and hold on as he was mouthed and licked at. His arousal hadn’t waned; in fact, this new feral side of Loki was turning him on even more, as impossible as that seemed. He began to grind his cock into Loki’s, hoping to alleviate some of the ache.

   With a growl, Loki pulled away from Clint’s throat to meet his gaze, eyes narrowing at the brazen act. He paused, though, when he saw the look of complete submission in the thrall’s eyes.

   He loosed one hand to find the mortal’s opening, giving his backside a firm, appreciative squeeze before letting his fingers ghost over the tight ring of muscle. Clint tensed and almost flinched away from the touch before the thrall stilled his movements and he relaxed against the fingers. They prodded and tested, before leaving briefly, returning with some slick substance Loki must have conjured.

   Well, he was sane enough to remember lube, at least.

   Then the fingers were inside him, stretching, seeking. Clint found he couldn’t look away from the eyes boring into his own, despite his body’s trembling or the gasps that fell from his parted lips.

   And then, he cried out as those seeking fingers found what they were looking for. He bucked his hips so hard Loki’s fingers fell away and he moved the solid body several inches backward. He blinked his eyes to clear them from the haze to see Loki smirking up at him.

   “I don’t think I need tell you what I will do to you now, I hope?”

   Several shuddering, panting breaths later, Barton answered, “Hell no, sir.”

   He was lifted as though he weighed nothing and moved into position. There was only a brief moment for him to brace himself before Loki pulled him down onto his throbbing length.

   His fingers dug into the skin of Loki’s back hard enough to bruise, had he been mortal. And also, had he been mortal, he might have given his pet more time to adjust to him before he started pummeling him from below.

   Clint cried out, his head burrowing into Loki’s shoulder to somehow ground himself against the onslaught. The pain was negligible, he’d had worse and probably would again. He wasn’t ready for the intensity, however, and despite his orders to give voice, he found he couldn’t as the breath was fucked out of him.

   Loki didn’t seem to mind that lack now that he could see his Hawk’s face unencumbered. His eyes were open but unseeing, mouth parted to allow what breath he could manage. Loki wanted that sniper’s gaze fixed on him, to see him and only him.

   A hand closed around Clint’s arousal, ripping a cry from his throat, and suddenly his eyes were focused and his ears were opened. Loki was growling, eyes burning intently into his, and that more than anything was what drove him dangerously close to the edge.

   Without thought, without even the influence of the thrall, Clint’s hands burrowed into long black hair, and he stared into the strange eyes he’d never seen but somehow was not frightened of.

   “You’re close, my Hawk. I can feel you getting tighter around me. But you can’t come just yet, can you? Not without me.”

   “Please...,” Clint panted. The hand fisting his cock tightened almost painfully, ripping a gasp from his throat.

   “Begging, pet? Are you so far gone as to lower your pride and beg me for this?”

   He stilled his hips and kept a tight hold on Clint’s cock, feeling the tremors wracking the mortal body like tiny earthquakes. The fingers in his hair tightened as his pet’s frustration boiled over. The thrall kept Clint from moving his hips, but he knew what Loki wanted even without the hint.

   Looking into those red eyes, he put all of his want and longing into his next words.

   “Please, sir. Please let me come for you.”

   Loki’s hips snapped forward with a punishing thrust at those words, and he buried his teeth into the skin of his pet’s shoulder, drawing yet more blood and delicious cries. He was beyond holding back, now, his Hawk’s words still ringing in his ears.

   Clint held on, helpless in the grip of the demigod’s lust. He found himself unable to look away from the flashing eyes below him as they flickered between red and green. He could feel Loki was close, as close as he was himself.

   With one last feral snarl, Loki was coming, holding Clint tight to him as he ground his hips up into him. The throb of the pulsing cock emptying into him finally drove Clint to follow, muffling a shout into the sweat-dampened hair of Loki’s temple. He painted both of their chests before he was suddenly as boneless as a wet noodle and sank into the other man, heaving for breath as if he’d been underwater for far too long.

   The sudden dead weight of the solid body atop him tumbled Loki backwards to land with an indignant huff against the cold tile floor. He slipped free of Barton with an undignified pop and was surprised when the other man didn’t so much as twitch in discomfort.

   “Agent Barton,” he grunted, feeling rather burdened despite his godly constitution.

   “Y’sir?” came the slurred reply.

   “Will you be disobeying any further orders in the future?”

   A long pause.

   “Probably.”

   And because his Hawk couldn’t see him at that moment, Loki let the grin spread across his face. Good answer.

AN: Another prompt from a friend, this time based on a photo of some very nice Shibari rope-work and a male model who looks remarkably like Jeremy Renner. Also, I've been wanting to write some feral!Loki for a while. Forgive me my little kinks.
AN2: A word on my characterizations; Hawkeye gets very little character development in the film. The majority of the time, he's under the influence of Loki through the Tesseract. I have my own theories on how this affects his character and his interactions with others. I don't see him as a mindless drone simply doing as he's ordered. I think the Tesseract merely changes his wants for its own ends. So, I tried to write him as I know him from the bits I've read from the comics and the few scenes where he's actually himself in the movie. The deleted scene between Loki and Hawkeye on the Blu-Ray was probably the most helpful.
I'd love to hear anyone else's theories.
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Contrition