Marvel And Melanated Imagines (ongoing)

control | clint barton

Y/N stared down at Clint. He is completely at her mercy. He's bound wrist and ankle to the bed in the brig.

She doesn't want to do this to him. Not like this, anyways; she'd prefer him in his right mind.

But he needs this to get back to his right mind. To get Loki out of her boyfriend's mind, she'd do anything.

She double checks to make sure there's nobody in the hallway, then bends over the restrained man, kissing his forehead, his nose and finally his mouth. He pulls away at first but then strains upward into the kiss. She throws a leg over his waist, then sits up on him. She shimmies backwards and straddles his thighs and grinds herself against them; he "hmm's" half consciously and strains to bend the leg she's riding.

She slides to where his cock is straining against the crotch of his pants and she frees it. She wraps her brown hand around and gently glides up and down, up and down. Clint lets out a semi-conscious gasp and bucks up into her hand; she allows him several strokes before removing her hand. 

He cries out for her—not by name, but a wordless sound—and the cry ends in a needy whine as he thrusts his pelvis up in an effort to find her hand.

She takes him into her mouth and he lets out a low growl that, again, ends in a lustful noise. She swirls her tongue around the head and pokes it gently into the slit, then brings her mouth down around him.

His eyes fly open and he lets out a strangled gasp. He battles against his restraints, trying to free himself.

And Y/N knows that right now, if he did manage to get out, everyone on that ship would be in danger.

She somehow manages to fit him all the way into her mouth and throat, trying desperately not to gag as he thrusts up into her, moaning around him with each one. His eyes close against in ecstasy and he releases a feral hiss.

And Y/N hopes that her sucking on him will suck the god right out. 

Let go of him. Come back to me, Clint.

He's getting close, she discovers after a few moments of animalistic thrusting and grunting. She takes her mouth off of him and he emits a shuddered groan.

Now or never, she decides. She rises off of him and takes off her skin tight suit, then straddles him once more. Holding him steady, she sinks down, down down on him until he's fully sheathed in her.

Again, his eyes fly open.

And this time they stay open. He lets out a breathy gasp and Y/N recognizes it as her name.

Even though she's on top and he's still cuffed to the bed, she allows him a modicum of control: she lets him control the speed at which they proceed.

He chooses a slow and steady pace, fucking up into her to get used to her around him.

"Come on, Clint, come back to us baby boy. Come back to me." She begins to meet him, push for thrust and Clint's head falls back against the bed.

"That's it, baby, fight it. Fight him—oh!" Her climax comes as a surprise and feels her soul leave her body momentarily.

Clint freezes for a split second, then jackhammers ungracefully up into her, gasping raggedly, then groaning as he reaches his own finish. 

She's more worried about if she was successful.

And the look in his eyes shows that she is. 

"I-You should top more often." Clint chuckled, finally back to himself.