#Marvel One-Shots

😈Phlint : Dance for Me😈

Phil's POV:

I didn't want to be here, but after what happened at many on Stark's other parties, I have been instructed to go to all of them to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. I'm here along with Hill and 2 agents. 

The music was blaring, hot bodies bashing into each other, people yelling to their friends, when all of a sudden, all the shouts become cheers and hoots. I look for the source of their entertainment, when my eyes land on Barton, stood on the bar, navy crop top, and short denim shorts. He has a drink in his hand, and is dancing, really feeling himself. 

I'm not gay, but I'm not straight. I haven't put a label on it yet, and am just going where I go. 

But Clint was making me question everything. The way his body moved, so elegantly, his thin waist, and small frame glided through the air, so controlled. I couldn't take my eyes off him. He must have noticed me staring somehow, as he blew a kiss to the back of the room where I was sat on a singular bar stool, lemonade in hand. 

After 10 minutes of him showing off on the improvised stage, the people's cheers encouraging him, a hand (could only guess it to be Natasha's) reached out for him to take. He got down, but not before shaking his ass in the short shorts. 

The crowd dispersed, and the atmosphere regained its party feel. I resumed my Stark Watch. Finding him chatting to 3 women in a corner. Suddenly, I felt a tap on the shoulder, and as I spun round to see what caused it, I was met with Clint's red face. 

"Hey," He greeted. He surprisingly didn't reek of alcohol, which made me wonder if he was a sober mind while dancing.

"Hey, nice dancing."

"Thanks," he said, biting his finger, "Hope you enjoyed it." I couldn't help but go bright red, hoping the flashing lights would cover it. I didn't know if he was flirting or just asking of I like dancing. 

It was the first option.

He stood closer, leaning close to my face, before whispering into my ear. "I could give you a private dance if you want."

I lost it. I grabbed his hand, pulling him out the room, into a quieter space, closing the door behind us. 

"Are you sober?" I ask, not wanting anything to happen, and him not be fully aware.

"Yep, look." He said, as he pressed his fingers accurately to his nose twice, before leaning, grabbing my chin and pulling me into a kiss. But as soon as it started, it stopped. Clint stood back, pushing me onto the couch located behind me. He straddled my lap, rolling his hips. My hands instinctively found his hips, gliding with him.

 No matter how close his face got to mine, he never kissed me. It was annoying me, and I was so tempted to just grab the back of his neck and kiss him like my life depended on it. Luckily I didn't, as he stood up, giving me a private [lap] dance. 

It was unbearable. He soon went down to his knees on the floor, maintaining eye contact the whole time. He began unbuttoning my jeans, and pulling them down, with surprising efficiency. 

He palmed me through my boxers. I was in bliss, my head back, trying not to moan. He pulled my boxers back, letting my hard dick spring out. His look turned from lust to hunger.

I couldn't hold my moans back when he put the tip into his mouth, stroking the rest. 

"Fuck!" I moaned out. I could feel him smirk at my reaction. I watched as one of his hands moved from my cock to his own hard on. 

In one quick movement, he took the whole length to the back of his throat, without gagging. It was the best feeling ever. His throat was so warm, and I was struggling to keep my cool. 

Struggling real hard. His spare hand began massaging my balls, and he began to hum. The vibrations sending me into a frenzy. My hands flew to his head, gripping a fistful of his sandy brown hair, controlling his movements. 

I was getting closer now, and I could feel the know in my stomach forming. If he kept humming then I wouldn't last much longer. My moaning was so loud, I was pretty sure it could be heard over the music next door, but I didn't care. 

I held my dick as far down his throat as I could, sending my load down it. He swallowed every drop, not letting a single bit leave. I let go of his head, and he came up, straddling me again. He laid a sweet kiss on my lips, before running his finger across my jaw, pulling my lip down. 

I, still in a haze, couldn't react, but Clint just stood back up, opening the door and leaving, leaving me to recover and get back out there, before anyone (Maria) notices I was gone. 

I take it back. I did want to be here.