hawksilver, 1 | ✔️

22

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If Pietro thought sex could never be good, he definitely had not met Clint Barton.   There were many enjoyable aspects to their relationship, of course, the takeaways, the movies, getting competitive in the gym, but not a thing came close to their sex life.  

Depending on the night, depended on the way it rolled out. Some nights he would walk (run) into their room, and there would be candles and music and rose petals and Clint would stand there with a sheepish smile on his face and they'd make sweet and passionate love for the whole night, with sweet nothings passing lips and moans of names to the sound of Tyler Joseph singing 'Can't Help Falling In Love' on repeat because Pietro adores his voice and he adores Clint, so the two slot together nicely.  

But then there are the pissed nights. And that doesn't mean the drunken nights, those are the nights where Clint argues with Nat about something or someone touched the ice cream he labelled as his own in the communal fridge-freezer. The worst he'd seen him was after he was one millimetre off centre on a target (or there abouts). These nights are Pietro's favorite.

They're the nights Clint comes in late with a scowl and grabs Pietro by the throat, presses him to a wall and kissed him roughly, with tongues and teeth and biting of lips. If Clint is back late, Pietro makes not to wear good clothes as often Clint is impatient and just rips off his top, littering him with purple hickeys and fingers him, opening him up, telling how hard he was going to fuck him and the like. It's never long before Clint is fucking into him, speaking the most obscene yet fucking sexy things to him whilst Pietro forgets all but his and Clint's name, and a few jumbled Sokovian words. Those sessions last about ten minutes, and he was bruised to high hell and sore the next morning but it is so worth looking at where Clint has truly let out his beast and succumbed to primal instinct.  Yeah, sex with Clint was definitely good.

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