A blog dedicated to my writings - TWD, Rampage, SPN and Marvel. To see all my fandom loves in all their thirsty and sweary glory, visit my main blog @letsby
Let’s have some flip-flopping “remorseful” Carmy, shall we?
He’s fallen asleep on her couch. Smiling, she gently lifts the beer bottle up and away from his hand.
Somewhere between her lifting his legs onto the cushions and him fully waking up they have placed their hands on each other’s arms in haste to give assurance that it’s okay, he just fell asleep, everything is fine.
Eyes like precious stones flick down to her body; she’s dressed for bed and he likes it.
They’re kissing on her couch.
“Stop…no I can’t…fuck, I’m so sorry I should not have just fucking done that…” on he rambles while she tucks her legs to the side, trying not to laugh at his virtual breast beating over a five second kiss.
“Carmy, relax…we’re in a brigade together, these things happen, right?”
Thanks to @mostly-marvel-musings for getting me to revisit this WIP! Who knows, maybe now I’ll write the whole blasted thing 🙃
The Spy Who Loved Me Chapter 6 - Like Heaven Above Me
Clint Barton x Agent!Reader
She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up…
Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut. Over 18’s only.
A/N: Here be the finale! Chapter rating: Explicit. W/C: 4.3k Beta: evansrogerskitten
The unreadable assassin played it cool as he silently glided towards the elevator, no hint of emotion behind those steely blue eyes. Even when he heard Star's door close, Clint fought the disappointment of not hearing her call his name a second time.
As if respecting his master’s wish to keep up appearances, Lucky waited until the elevator doors closed before nudging Clint’s hand with a little whine.
“What? You think she should’ve told us to stay? Said ‘you know what, forget that guy. Let’s watch the movie now’?”
Lucky smiled and sat down on his haunches. Clint shook his head.
“Nah, she can’t do that. It’s their third date.”
Out in the street, Clint forgot to turn back into strong, silent Hawkeye. Which suited Lucky fine; he much preferred Clint Barton, the human disaster who chatted to his dog in public.
“Third date,” he muttered in disgust, “I know what that means. And she definitely knows what that means.”
His mind wandered back to the hallway he’d just vacated. The first time he was there came back easily, along with that glint in her eye and the taste of her lips. Clint realised that the memory had never been too far away.
He slowed down, then came to a stop. Lucky spotted a fire hydrant and went to inspect it. He pulled his leash taut along with Clint’s passively outstretched arm, but Lucky was still a good foot away from sniffing out the last dog to use the facilities. He strained harder, but Clint would not be moved. The lab gave up the hunt and went back to his master, who for some reason was standing stock still and staring into space. Lucky scanned the street for any potential threat, then simply waited.
“You know what?” Clint said slowly. Lucky cocked his head.
“We don’t know the first thing about this guy. He could be an asshole or an axe murderer or, or, a dentist. It’s not like she still has the connections to run a background check. I should be a friend, do that for her. Right?”
Lucky barked in agreement.
*****
By nightfall, Clint found himself perched on the roof of the building opposite the one Star lived in. He had his bow and his quiver, Tony’s patented facial recognition camera, and a Thermos full of coffee. Of course, he was suited up.
The plan was simple. When she and the guy left for their date, Clint would take a picture and return the device to the tower for analysis. A stealthily loosed trick arrow would plant a tracker on their taxi, so that when Clint proved the guy was a creep he could swoop in and rescue Star from wherever the cab had dropped them off.
Not that he wanted the guy to turn out to be a creep. No, that would be a sick thing to wish for. This was just common sense. He was being safety conscious, that was all.
Nowhere in his thought process did Clint allow himself to be reminded that even if the guy was a psycho, even if he did try to lock her in a basement and harvest her toenails, Star was highly unlikely to require a rescue.
Instead, he prepared himself for the other eventuality - that Star was meeting the guy somewhere else. Clint could either track her taxi or follow along the rooftops if she was on foot. He could easily do that and not take his eyes off her for more than a couple of seconds at a time.
“Hawkeye - the skyline chaperone. I’m such a good friend.”
He settled down near the top of the fire escape and poured some coffee. Thirty minutes later he went to have another then stopped himself; he didn’t want to have to pee while watching her front door. Ew no.
At last, she came out of her building. She looked so good that Clint almost swooned. The colour of her dress was perfect; even six stories up in the dark, Clint could see how it set off her hair and her skin. The cut flattered her chest, and the way the skirt flowed over her hips made him remember what it felt like to hold her. He flexed his hands as she sashayed across the street and headed down the side of the building he stood upon. Clint didn’t tear his eyes from her, just walked the ledge on instinct and let her steal all of his impressive focus.
Then she stopped. Right outside Cappadocia. A man was standing there, waiting to receive her smile and kiss her cheek and open the door for her so they could enjoy a romantic meal in the place Clint had taken her to first. The Avenger’s nostrils flared and his teeth ground together. His middle and index fingers twitched, longing to take aim.
The door closed and Clint snapped out of it. Remembering the camera, he looked forlornly back across the rooftop to where he had left it with his bow, his arrows, and his coffee. He crouched down on the ledge and admitted the truth.
“Aw, stalker.”
He let out a big sigh and eased himself into a sitting position, legs dangling over the edge of the roof. He took out a cell phone and called his number one Favourite.
“Evening.”
“Hey. You feel like judging an idiot?”
“Always,” said Nat, getting a little comfier on her couch cushions.
“Tonight’s your lucky night. I am, right now, sitting on the edge of a six story walk-up, watching the front door of the restaurant where Star is having dinner with a man who will probably be calling himself her boyfriend by morning.”
Nat laughed out the answer. “You fucking loser.”
“I’m not a loser,” Clint whined, pushing his heels straight out then letting them swing back against the bricks, “I only came up here to ID the guy and make sure he’s clean.”
“And is he?”
“Well,” Clint began swinging his legs again, “I dunno. Kinda forgot to take the picture.”
Nat could hear his embarrassed smile and tsked affectionately. “So what now?”
“What now?” A window below him opened, and Clint spun smoothly around and stood up on the rooftop. “Now, we give up. I blew it, right? She’s with him now.”
“So it’s serious.”
“About to be. It’s their third date.” Clint walked towards his belongings, wondering if he would ever be able to say those two words again without sneering.
Nat laughed, louder this time. “Okay, now I see the idiot I’m supposed to judge. You know she may not have made up her mind whether she’s gonna take this guy home, right?”
“You didn’t see her. She’s a god damn knockout tonight.”
“Hey, I’m a knockout every night. Doesn't mean I’m always up for getting down.”
“For one so humble you sure suck at modesty, my friend.” Clint shouldered his bow and hooked a finger through the handle of his Thermos. “Okay. I’m calling it a night and am officially moving on from whatever the hell this thing is.”
“Fine words for a man spending Saturday night alone on a roof because of a woman.”
“Uh, actually, they are!”
“Clint, has it not occurred to you that she may be going through the motions with this guy so she can forget about you? That she is in fact thinking the same things you are, and you do actually have another shot?”
Clint opened his mouth, then closed it.
“That’s a no.”
He put one foot on the ledge and leaned against the top of the fire escape.
“What do I do?”
“Well, so long as you’re up there, Stalkeye-”
“-fuck you very much.”
“Stay where you are, see what happens after dinner. If they go home together, then so be it. If not, there’s a chance. Either way, you can get up tomorrow knowing which direction you should take.”
Clint was quiet for a moment.
“It’s chilly up here.”
“You big baby.”
“Alright fine, I’ll stay. But if she goes home with this guy I’m coming over and I’m making it your problem.”
“Deal.”
Clint hung up. He settled down and used small cups of coffee to keep warm until finally, the couple left the restaurant. This time Clint had everything to hand and the camera was in his fist as he walked the ledge one more time, lens trained on him but his eyes trained on her. On the arm she slipped through his. On the pulsing glints in her hair under artificial light. On her face as she turned towards her date outside her building.
It took forever. Clint looked to the horizon, expecting daybreak.
“Jesus Star, are you trying to torture me?”
The man inched closer to her. Clint saw her smile, then her face was blocked from view. The kiss could have lasted for one second or a full minute. Clint didn’t care. All that mattered was that the man was nodding his head and walking to the kerb to hail a cab. Star watched him go, then went upstairs alone.
Clint grinned and hopped onto the fire escape, floating down it like a loved-up feather until his feet touched the ground.
*******
Star breezed into Clint’s apartment the following afternoon looking well rested, bearing popcorn and a Goodfellas DVD. She had a pretty skirt on and a fluffy sweater.
“Beer?” offered her host.
“Immediately.” Star walked to the kitchen and made herself at home popping kernels on the stove.
“Why didn’t you get microwave stuff?”
“You want me to trust that microwave? We can’t all be as reckless as you, Hawkeye.”
Clint ducked his head further into his refrigerator so she wouldn’t see his secret smile. He had pretty much shaken off the shame of his rooftop escapade, but that didn’t mean Star had to know about it. He popped the cap off a Michelob and set it down where Star could reach it. When she turned her head to say thanks he was still at her side, close enough that he could smell her perfume. He wanted to grab hold of her right then and there but settled for complementing her outfit.
“Thanks. The sweater doesn’t really go but I’m real cold today.”
Not for long, thought Clint, sidling over to the thermostat and turning it up with a soft click that Star couldn’t hear over the sound of her popcorn.
He managed to settle down, but little things she did got him incrementally more excited. The way she smiled and shimmied when the movie started, even though she had to have seen it fifty times already. The seductive way she kicked her shoes off ten minutes in. When the thermostat trick finally paid off, and she sat up and took off her sweater, revealing a strappy top that matched her skirt.
A little while later he managed to sneak a long enough look to realise she wasn’t wearing a bra and eagerness got the better of him.
“So tell me, how was your date?”
“Quit being nosey, this is one of the best parts.”
Clint did as Star told him and turned his attention back to the TV. Henry Hill was storming across the street to pay his girl’s neighbour a visit.
“I swear on my fuckin’ mother, if you touch her again you’re dead!”
“Oof!” said Star as Henry landed the final blow. “Ever pistol whip anybody?” she asked Clint.
“Now who’s being nosey?”
Star smiled at him and he tried not to melt.
“I’m strictly a bow and arrow type.”
They carried on watching the movie, Clint attempting to act normal until after Henry’s girl had become his wife and he laid her down on their big bed, kissing her tenderly and running a hand over a satin-covered breast. Star’s bare feet were resting on his coffee table and he saw her toes curl.
“That’s hot,” he observed.
“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen this.”
“Hey, I like nice movies. But now you’ve come along and corrupted me.”
Star laughed, not looking at him even though she knew he was looking at her. He took as deep a breath as he dared. This was it.
“I’m so glad about that, by the way,” he added.
“What, that I’m corrupting you?” Her hand landed blindly in the empty popcorn bowl.
“That you came along. I seriously can’t imagine my life without you.”
The soft words drifted over her, like a silk scarf landing on her shoulders. He was still looking at her. Star’s fingertips rolled over the hard unpopped kernels in the bottom of the bowl. It only took one millisecond of eye contact to make her hand start shaking.
Oh god, she thought. Not again.
“I’m gonna make more popcorn.” She stood abruptly and headed towards the kitchen. Clint was out of his seat just as fast.
“Really? You want snacks right now? You know what I’m trying to say here.”
Star dumped the bowl on the counter and turned to face him, utterly tortured.
“Clint, why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I am done being stupid!”
“How nice of you to get there! But it’s too late, I have a boyfriend now.”
Clint tried to quiet down.
“We both know you don’t. But you should. And it should be me.”
Taking his declaration as an act of jealousy, Star pointed at him angrily.
“You said we could never be more than friends.”
“What did I know?! From the minute I laid eyes on you I only wanted one thing and it was not your friendship.”
Star froze, and he came closer.
“But that’s what I got, right? I got to know you. And now? Now I want everything.” He looked her over while he closed the remaining space between them, his gaze ending up meeting hers and making her feel like he was looking at the whole world. “I want all of you. So deal with it.”
Star was stunned. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Thickly, her words came back to her.
“Deal with it?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“You asked for it,” she whispered back, then threw her arms around his neck. Clint wrapped his around her back and pulled her close. Their kiss felt like it had picked up where it left off the first time, except Clint didn’t bother to keep his hands from wandering. Star moaned and pulled back gently from his soft lips.
“Take me to bed, Clint.”
Mutual strength had him lifting her lightly by the waist, but she let him gather her legs around him, not ceasing to kiss him with all the passion he had been forcing her to hold back, even in her sluttiest moments of recent months.
Clint carried her into his bedroom and kicked the door shut, tossing her down onto the mattress from the foot of the bed. She stared up at him in mute excitement while he stood over her and unbuttoned his jeans.
“Take off your skirt.”
The command sent a wave of euphoria through her that didn’t quite recede with her automatic compliance. When she tossed the skirt to the floor she looked back at Clint to see him climbing onto the bed in just his boxers.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, rising to get her hands on him, “look at you.”
“See something you like?” he grinned. He lay down over her and kissed her again.
“You kidding? Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
“I’ll take that, coming from you,” he mumbled against her neck. One hand trailed down over her curves and she felt as if she’d never been touched before, although the way she moved underneath him said the exact opposite.
“So strong,” she went on, running her hands over his body, “so handsome. You kiss like a fuckin’ genius and oh…oh, god…”
Clint’s wandering hand had come up to her breast. He spread his palm over it and squeezed, eliciting that sexy moan that he never wanted to stop hearing.
“Clint,” she panted, “you don’t miss a thing do you?”
He chuckled and opened his mouth over her other breast; the heat alone made her shift underneath him, resting her core against his thigh.
“Mmm, you like that huh?” He moved his mouth downwards, kissing her belly until he reached her underwear. “Wonder what’ll happen if I do that here?”
He repeated the move, this time against her covered sex but in no time a strong grip on his hair had him lifting his head.
“Don’t tease me,” Star warned, “I’ve waited too long for you. Please.”
His smile dropped, eyes darkening along with hers. As long as she had been waiting, he’d been waiting for longer. As Clint rose up on his knees he tore her panties down her legs. Her top joined them on the floor and in a flash his mouth was back against her glistening slit, his fingertips opening her lips wide so he could kiss her cunt like he had kissed her mouth.
Clint could hear Star’s chuckle of relief around the panting of his name, felt the stretch of her body as she lay back to enjoy the ride. Happily, he settled between her legs and got to work; it was important to let a lady know she’s not about to be disappointed.
Star would have said Clint was understating if she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t occur to her at all that Clint had been beating himself off to the thought of this for weeks before they even met. Maybe it should have, with the way he was moving his lips and tongue all around her, letting no part of her go untasted and yet never leaving her clit feeling neglected. The wave was becoming tidal and it was happening so quickly her head was spinning.
“Fuck! Clint…how’d you learn to do this? Oh god…”
Clint kept it up, gripping her hips in place when she bucked against him ever harder. He was finally claiming her and he needed her to know it. Cries of his name turned to nonsensical yelling and he let her take back control. The bed was shaking under the force of her orgasm and Clint lapped it up, jealous of the sheets soaking up drops of her juices that had escaped his tongue.
Her legs fell away from him and he knelt up. The only sound was the mutual catching of breath, until Clint had to start working his boxers down. It wasn’t unusual for him to get fully hard giving head but Star had him so ready it was almost painful.
Feeling the dips in the mattress, Star opened her eyes and smiled slyly. She flipped onto all fours to face him, licking her lips as he kicked his underwear away.
“Knew it,” she said.
“You knew what?” he asked, leaning down slightly to stroke her face.
Looking up through her lashes she answered sweetly, “that you’d be too big for me to swallow.”
“Jesus,” he choked, putting his hand warningly on her shoulder and squeezing the base of his dick.
“Need a minute to calm down baby?” she cooed.
“Now who’s being a tease?” Clint whined.
“I’m sorry,” she placated, nuzzling the hand on her shoulder and kissing his knuckles. “Can I? Please? Promise I’ll be gentle.”
Clint squeezed his eyes shut and let out some sort of desperate noise, but he didn’t stop her. Softly, she brushed her lips over him and he relaxed. Over and over, she gave him gentle kisses and kitten licks until he drew back, putting himself where they both wanted him to be. With one last look up at him she opened her mouth and took him in, moaning obscenely with that first hard suck. Clint was heaping on the praise in seconds; he didn’t want her to be gentle anymore. In fact, he needed the opposite.
Star caught on and sucked him as tightly as she could, giving him the fleeting sensation of the back of her throat every time she dove forward and squeezing the rest of him when she pulled back. He let his head fall back while she moved them both to her rhythm, taking in the filthy wet sound of a god-tier blow job. Clint never wanted this from anyone else ever again. Just her…only her…his fallen agent.
Something caught in his chest and ran through his veins, and all of a sudden he needed to stop again. Clint pulled his cock from Star’s mouth and instantly she rose to her knees to kiss him. Clint grabbed the backs of her legs and had her pinned to the mattress in a second; Star shifted her limbs and in the next instant had him overpowered.
“Still got it,” she grinned down at him.
“I’m pulling my punches baby,” he shot back, “now fuck me.”
“Whatever you say Hawkeye,” she said with mock sincerity, even as she took hold of him in one hand and parted her lips with the other.
Finally Clint was inside her, they were connected not just physically but with a sense of intimacy that threatened to overwhelm them both. They couldn’t even call out, just moan gently to cast out anchors in this perfect storm.
“Oh Clint.”
“Star…oh god.”
“Mmph, wait…” her hand fumbled to cradle his jaw and they locked eyes. “Call me by my name? Please?”
Clint didn’t know for sure why she was asking but he could guess. Didn’t matter either way. He propped up on one arm so their faces could be closer. He planted his feet and she let out a feral moan as she ground against him. Clint placed his free hand around her neck, trying to keep the rest of his arm in contact with her.
“Whatever you want Y/N. Anything, anything-”
“Clint!” she yelped, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into his chest.
“Come on baby,” he grunted, “I got you.”
Even as her second orgasm hit, she couldn’t cry out. She collapsed into Clint’s arms and he held her, eyes rolling in his head as she pulsed around him. The sensation slowed, then stopped, and he rolled her onto her back once more. Her hands flopped above her head and he made a bossy noise, jerking his head back until she had wrapped her arms around him. Her legs, still feeling like jelly, were caught up and around his waist by his strong and skilled hands.
Satisfied, he started to fuck her. She smiled up at him.
“You like to stay close, don’t you Clint.”
“Only when I’m taking what’s mine,” he panted, moving faster. Their eyes met and he licked his lips. “You know that’s what this is, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Tell…tell me you know,” he stuttered, losing eye contact.
“Yeah Clint, I know. It’s all for you.”
“Fuck!” By now the whole bed was moving and she held on tighter.
“You got something for me, huh? Gonna give me what’s mine?”
Clint barely got the affirmation out and she bit down on his shoulder.
“Let’s have it, baby. Gonna fill me up, huh?”
“Yes! Yes!”
She wasn’t sure if it was an answer or a shout of gratitude, but she could tell from the moans against her neck and his jerking hips that Clint had given her what she’d asked for.
They stayed holding each other, catching their breath and trading little kisses. Suddenly, they realised they were overheated, and Clint pulled out and flopped down beside her on his ruined bed.
“Why is it so damn hot in here Barton?”
“Oops.” Clint laughed and got up. “Be right back.”
Out in the living area, he couldn’t stop grinning while he trotted over to the trusty thermostat and fetched them a glass of water each. But when he came back to the bedroom she was staring towards the windows with a strange look on her face.
“You okay?” He handed her a glass and she took a sip. Clint cracked a window and got back into bed, pulling the covers up.
“Honey?”
“Yeah. I was just thinkin’ how long it’s been since it was like this. And I don’t just mean it being like, special. But being safe, and warm, and not having to do it with weapons within easy reach.”
Clint pulled a guilty face and glanced at his closet. She laughed and he pulled her to him so they could settle down in each other's arms.
“It was just a realisation is all,” she concluded, letting go of the past and enjoying the sensation of resting her head on the chest of her Avenger. She didn’t even realise she was letting out hums of contentment until Clint mentioned it.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear from you afterward,” he said fondly. She smiled.
“I’m just so happy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Clint started to summon some bravery, then had a realisation of his own: he didn’t need to.
“That’s good, Y/N. Coz I wanna tell ya somethin’. And I promise, you do not have to do a thing with this information until you’re ready. I just need you to know it.”
She leaned back a little and waited. Clint sighed.
“I love you.”
She took a beat, that felt like fifty to him, then asked,
“That true?”
“Yeah.”
“Well that’s good. Coz I love you too, Clint Barton.”
“Wait, really?”
She laughed and once again found herself on her back with a superhero moulding his body to hers. They kissed and laughed and kissed again, promising without words that never again would they regret the day they got caught in the rain.
Engineers love their toys. When Professor Stark and his student clash over theirs, he decides to give in to the impulse to play a new game…
Marvel AU
Tony Stark x Reader
Warnings: OVER 18 READERS ONLY. Not all apply to each part, please check the individual chapter warnings before reading. Explicit smut, soft dom!Tony, angst, fluff, drug use, professor/student relationship, motorsport talk, language, mild daddy kink.
She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up…
Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut. Over 18’s only.
Clint was excited for movie night. So much so that he didn’t stop to ask his new friend how she was when she answered the phone.
“So, Porco Rosso?”
“Eh. How about Spirited Away?”
“We watched that last week!”
“Month, Clint. We watched it last month.”
There had been several such conversations since they had shared truths and cannolis in Star’s kitchen. The friendship that the marksman Avenger and disavowed SHIELD agent had agreed upon had fallen into a routine of daytime coffees and night time movies. It was fairly easy, except that Clint’s long, usually unannounced, stints away passed far longer for her than they did him.
She didn’t mind though. Between the Art School projects and fixing up her apartment, she and Saliha had been kept fairly busy. Not as busy as they would have liked, admittedly.
After viewing the compromise of Ponyo, she made the mistake of saying so to Clint.
“The devil makes work for idle hands, y’know.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” she retorted, scraping the last handful of popcorn from the large bowl between them.
“Just sayin’, I gotta go away for a little while and I could use someone to walk Lucky.”
“Did you not get the message last time you brought that up?”
She made to hit his arm but stopped, almost choking on some unpopped kernels. Snatching up the bowl, she spat them out.
“Damn popcorn debris,” she coughed. “Stop laughing asshole!”
“Sorry! But I am serious. Ollie’s sick, usually he takes Lucky but it’s tonsillitis. He’s in bed for a week and his mama doesn’t have the time to help.”
“Poor little guy. Good thing this town’s lousy with dog walkers.”
“Aw, I already promised to cover the money he’s losing from flyering and the cost of his antibiotics…”
“Wait, so you want me to do this for free?!”
“No!” Clint shimmied down the couch cushions and pulled a hopeless face. “For the eternal gratitude of one of Earth’s mightiest heroes.”
“You did not just brag about that while making puppy dog eyes.”
Clint shrugged and flashed a charming grin.
“I’m not walking your dog Clint.”
“Fine,” he sighed, getting to his feet. “Maybe the kid at Tanya’s Pizza’ll do it. Lucky’ll be thrilled.”
Four seconds of stubborn silence passed.
“Get me copies of your keys.”
“Oh my god, Star! That’s so generous!” Clint dodged the purple cushion she aimed right at his face before skipping out the front door.
“Like I said, asshole,” she muttered, not quite able to smother a smile.
*****
The following Monday she and Lucky were trotting back from the park in the direction of Clint’s apartment after their second walk of the day. Clint had met them there that morning, taking care not to be smug about this new element of their friendship. For the first time, she saw just how serious Clint was about Lucky’s well-being, and he displayed nothing but gratitude as he handed over the dog’s brown leather leash.
“Well, I’d say day one has gone well, huh pal?” she asked Lucky as they strolled along under a clear blue sky. Her phone rang, and Lucky sniffed at her pocket.
“Ooh, nosey,” she teased before answering. “Hey Sal.”
“Hey. The samples for the Bird project are going to arrive on Friday.”
“You’re in Vermont on Friday.”
“Thank god I have you. I’m calling to tell you to be here to receive them and to not bring that flea-bitten mutt with you.”
“He’s gonna hear you!”
“Oh, please.”
“This is like, the smartest, most easy going dog in the world. I promise, if you would just meet him you’d transcend your hatred of canines and make an exception.”
“My arse would I.”
“Fine. See you Saturday. My place?”
“So long as the dog isn’t there.”
“You’re dead inside.”
“Love you too!”
Star hung up the phone.
“It’s not personal, honest,” she said in answer to Lucky’s sweet brown-eyed stare.
They made a left and a few seconds later were ascending the stoop of Clint’s building. She tried not to enjoy using her very own keys to get inside. Once they got into his apartment, Lucky ran through a doorway to the left, leaving her to take in her surroundings.
Clint hadn’t invited her in before today. Her place, Fraction, The Angelica, those had become their places. It was no surprise to her; she understood very well how home was never really home to an agent. It was a set of walls that had to be just comfortable enough to exist behind. Rarely would the occupant consider the presence of company when making their decorating choices.
The sofa was big, more than enough room for two to watch a movie if Clint ever woke up and realised his TV was way better than hers. It was sleek, black and new. Against the worn browns of the wooden TV cabinet, leather sofa and framed glass coffee table it stuck out like a sore thumb.
She moved gingerly towards a kitchen area that looked safe enough, but belied hazards she knew would be lurking just below the surface. A cupboard door resting on its hinges that would fall down on anyone who opened it but the owner. A cracked mug just waiting for the next person to fill it with boiling water before it gave up and gave way. However it was clean and tidy in an organised-clutter kind of way.
She found her list of instructions next to the coffee maker (she chuckled fondly on noticing that it was top notch, like the TV) and mumbled her way through it.
“‘Feed him whatever, you know best’ - damn right I do - ‘he’s okay at night but close the blinds so he won’t bark at squirrels’ - m-kay - ‘don’t let him on the bed’...ah, shit.”
The door that the dog had gone through creaked slightly when she pushed on it.
“Lucky?”
His lack of reply told her he was up to no good. Once fully inside the room she saw the golden pooch, all snuggled up in the middle of his master’s bed.
“Bad dog,” she whined. Lucky moved only his eyes, looking everywhere but at her. “Come on, come on boy! Down you get, come on!” She slapped her palms on her thighs and motioned towards the door. “Nothin’ huh? You sure you can’t move? For me?”
Lucky repositioned his jaw across his forelegs.
“Alright, guess we're using force.”
But it wasn’t easy for her to walk towards the bed. It was Clint’s bed after all. Clint’s sheets, his night stand, his closet. It was feeling far too intimate.
“C’mon Lucky, gimme a break.” She was at the side of the bed now, reaching out for the dog’s collar. One knee had to rest on the mattress so she raised it and leaned forward.
“Mmm, nope,” she said as soon as her knee touched the comforter, standing up straight and putting her hands on her hips. Lucky made a little huffing sound.
“You know what, you're right. If he cares that much about the no-Lucky-on-the-bed rule then he shoulda closed the god damn door. Enjoy, buddy. I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”
Careful to check all the lights and electricals were turned off, she headed for the front door. Lucky dashed out of the bedroom before she even got a hand to the lock.
“You okay boy?”
He barked in response, taking little steps back and forth, guiding her back to the bedroom. She swept it in seconds. No threat detected, she gave him a consolatory scritch behind the ears.
“I gotta go, buddy. I’ll come back extra early tomorrow, how ‘bout that?”
He whined and sniffed at her jeans, before sitting and looking at her mournfully.
“Yeah,” she sighed, “I bet belonging to him can get pretty lonely.” Looking past the dog, she shook her head. “But I sure as shit can’t stay here. What do ya say, sleepover at my place?”
Lucky barked and ran to fetch his leash.
“Clever boy!”
*******
“Who’s a good dog? Who’s a priddy widdy beautiful widdle boy? Lucky wucky is a beautiful widdle boy, that’s who!”
“You know that’s the same ‘flea-bitten mutt’ you forbade me from bringing to your place the other day, right?”
Saliha looked across at her friend from her seat on the purple velvet sofa.
“You shush! Auntie Sal didn’t mean it Lucky, I pwomise I didn’t.”
Ignoring the fake retching noises drifting out of the room, Saliha fussed Lucky some more, marvelling at his enormous smile and glassy eyes. He looked almost high off the attention.
Then two things happened at once. There was a sharp, deliberate tap on the window behind her, and Lucky let out a bark. Diving for cover, Saliha peered over the back over the sofa when she realised Lucky had been wagging his tail on his way to investigate. There on the fire escape, grinning at the dog who was now jumping three feet in the air, was an actual Avenger.
“I suppose that’s something you don’t see every day,” she said to herself. Saliha waited for Clint to catch her eye before getting up to let him in.
“Thanks,” he said, a little breathlessly , dropping into the room. He let Lucky jump up at him before bringing him under control. “We haven’t met. I’m Clint.” He stuck his hand out, and Saliha pretended to consider shaking it.
“Saliha,” she said finally, accepting the gesture.
“I know.”
“Just like I knew who you were. There’s eight words we’ll never get back.” It wasn’t a joke, and she made sure Clint could tell from her unsmiling face.
Clint wasn’t sure what to say; he may have been used to pissing off dangerous women but that didn’t mean that he enjoyed it. He supposed the only thing to do was address the elephant in the room.
“I’m glad you made it back with Star. Truly.”
“No thanks to you or anyone else in SHIELD, but I’ll take the sentiment in the spirit it was intended.”
“Clint!”
The Avenger was all confident smiles as Star entered the room. Saliha watched as they hugged, just a little too tightly, then broke apart with a hint of embarrassment. She looked down at Lucky, who was at her side and waiting for more fuss.
“What’s their deal,” she mumbled to him, taking a seat.
“So, any problems?”
“With the world’s best dog? Of course not. How ‘bout you? Everyone okay?”
“Alive and awake, that’s what passes as you know. But I gotta get outta here. I’ll be back tomorrow? Whisper of the Heart?”
“Um, how about your place?” Her heart hammered out an echo to the question and she was immediately pissed at her own subconscious.
“My place?”
“Yeah-” she squeaked then cleared her throat, “I’ve seen that sweet TV, you can’t keep me away now.”
Clint chuckled. “Guess not. Alright, bring beer. Lucky, c’mon!” Clint nodded at Saliha as the dog left her side. “Good to meet ya. Thanks again Star,” he added, curling one arm around her waist. It was the briefest of hugs this time, but one that sent her stumbling and smiling as he let her go and got through the door. Completely forgetting she wasn’t alone, Star rested one hand against the wall, smiling into space.
“Uh-oh.”
Star snapped out of it. Saliha was sitting up straight and staring in judgement, lips pursed and eyebrows raised.
“What’s with you Sal? You constipated?”
Saliha tutted.
“You still like him!”
“I do not,” protested Star lazily, heading for the kitchen.
“You bloody well do! You were about to swoon just then.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Jury’s out. Anyway, just get yourself together. He’s made his feelings clear and I don’t want to see you making it weird with him and getting hurt.”
“Whatever. Lunch?”
She tried not to speed up the last few steps to the little but pretty kitchen. Alone, she let herself process what had just happened. It was nice, the way he had touched her just then. Did he mean it to feel so…intentional?
“Oh who gives a shit?” she muttered, shaking her head.
“About what?” yelled Saliha from the next room.
“Jesus! You ever close those ears, Batgirl?”
“Never!”
Star laughed and pulled a loaf of bread out of her little pantry. Maybe Sal was right. It was reasonable to expect there to still be a few embers floating around from the fire she and Clint had started on that rainy day months ago. They’d go out soon enough. No need to raise any alarms.
***
“Bullshit!”
“Hand to God, Star.”
“But, how?”
“What am I, a contortionist?” Clint leaned back against the arm of his big couch and took a sip of beer. Star was sitting at the opposite end, facing him and contemplating the crazy fact he had just told her.
It was late, not that the pair had noticed. The DVD menu for Whisper of the Heart glowed in silence, as it had been doing for over two hours.
“You okay there Star?”
“It’s just unbelievable,” she whispered. “How can anyone ever think of doing that, let alone go through with it?”
Clint shrugged. “Some people get their kicks in weird ways I guess.”
“But, fifty seven people? Fitted into one Volkswagen Beetle? That’s insane!”
Clint laughed and she reached for the hardback book that he had in his lap.
“Okay, my turn. Let’s see….” he watched her thumb through the pages, a fond smile on his lips. “Aha! Okay, true or false. The world record for the longest recorded fart is - stop laughing, this is serious - two minutes and four seconds.”
More time passed in this frivolous way, then the game became boring. Talk turned from the incredible to the personal, which was pretty incredible too, they had to admit.
Clint told her about his circus upbringing, avoiding talk of his brother Barney but talking up his trapeze skills. Star told him about life as a Marine then a DEA agent, and how she had come to be recruited to SHIELD after handling a case that hadn't fallen under their radar. It wasn’t often one was able to catch a Spain-bound Venezuelan boat in waters of the United States, let alone one able to carry twice the loading capacity of the vessel thanks to a little-known element called gravitonium.
Clint whistled. “I hate to admit it, but that’s pretty smart.”
“Right? These packets of coke, they were just floating there! Like, stacked neatly but touching nothing. ‘Course, nobody believed me. Except a guy named Coulson.”
Clint frowned and raised his beer bottle. Star did the same and they took a silent swig in their colleague’s memory.
“So he recruited you?”
“Nah. Took me to meet Fury, he recruited me.” Star yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Her top rode up and Clint could feel himself enjoying the sight too much. Looking away for something, anything, that was unsexy and boring, he picked up his phone.
“Shit, it’s 3am!”
“No! We haven’t been talking all this time?”
“Haven’t even had that many beers,” he said with a grin.
“Guess I’d better get home. Sal and I are meeting some contractors in the morning to work on the new sculpture space - what are ya doing?”
Clint paused, jacket half on his body. “It’s cold out.”
“You live here.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “am I supposed to let you walk home at this time of night alone?”
“Yes!” she laughed, genuinely perplexed.
“There’s dangerous people out there, Star. Lucky, c’mon.”
“And I’m more dangerous than any of ‘em, remember?”
Both man and dog ignored her, waiting by the front door expectantly.
“Okay,” she sighed, pausing in front of Clint to do up her buttons, “who’s gonna walk you home, Hawkeye?”
“Got my hellhound, I’m good.”
Star looked down at the smiling golden dog, easily the prettiest one-eyed canine she’d ever seen.
“Sure.”
*****
Like the way they had been talking the night away, Clint didn’t seem to notice how long he was making the usually-ten minute walk last. Star did, though. She rarely walked slowly at the best of times, but tonight she had the extra concern of her friend needlessly making the journey with her. She’d have thought he would at least want to get it over with and get back to the warmth of his place.
After he let Lucky spend all the time he needed sniffing at a fire hydrant for the third time, Star started getting a little impatient. Clint noticed her passive-aggressive hand warming and “oooh it’s cold” exhales and was instantly concerned.
“Lucky that’s enough, c’mon. You too cold?”
Without waiting for an answer Clint put his arm around her and marched them onward, keeping her closely tucked into his side. Gingerly, she put her arm around his waist for balance and focused on the storefronts they were passing.
This is officially weird. Does he realise he’s making it weird?
She was incredibly relieved to get to her own building. Clint didn’t look half as happy, especially when he paused halfway up the steps.
“Oh right.”
“What?”
“I guess I only need to walk you to this door now, huh?”
She widened her eyes and he flinched, as if realising what he’d actually said. When he started to blush, Star had to put him out of his misery.
“G’night Clint.” She gave him a brief peck on the cheek and patted Lucky’s head. “G’night, Paws.”
“Look Star, what I just said-”
“-Clint, it's fine, just go home. Please.” She waved him away and he smiled gratefully.
Sealed inside the elevator and out of sight of Clint and anyone else, she fell backwards against the wall and let herself feel it. The talking all night, the chivalry, the feel of his waist and the way her arm curled perfectly around it. His blushes!
“He was gonna come up,” she whispered, “oh my god.”
The rest of the ride up she kept her eyes closed and her smile wide. Once inside her apartment she flopped down onto her bed and did what any girl does when she feels like she’s been romanced; she texted her bestie.
So you may be right about me still liking Clint
By the time Star had brushed her teeth Saliha had replied.
Oh dear. Do we have a plan?
No. But! The good news is, I think he still likes me too
What makes you think that?
Star paused, staring into space. A big grin formed and she bit her lip.
She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up…
Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots to lovers, eventual smut. Over 18’s only. IN PROGRESS, NEW CHAPTER POSTED WEEKLY. Beta & header - @evansrogerskitten
She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up…
Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut. Over 18’s only. Song lyrics from Carly Simon’s Nobody Does It Better.
She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up…
Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut. Over 18’s only.
Going to be a day late posting the next chapter of The Spy Who Loved Me. Last night’s champions league shenanigans have left me far too hungover to post today sorry!
She moved to New York to fall in love. What were the odds that she could charm an Avenger without saying a word? But when the talking starts, the barriers come up…
Series warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut. Reader has a nickname but no physical description. Over 18’s only. Song lyrics from Carly Simon’s Nobody Does It Better.
A/N: Just a sweet little story to help me get over the smangst-fest that was my last series.
Pouring rain, no matter how sudden the descent from the heavens, never got in the way of what Hawkeye was doing, who he was watching. As long as he had the distance right, his environs could be as changeable as they liked.
But today he was plain old Clint Barton, minding his own business on the way to his favourite coffee place. At a time like this, and wearing his best new jacket rather than his tactical gear, the sudden downpour made him behave like an alleycat and seek shelter. From underneath the awning of one of the bigger newsstands on his block, he looked across the street towards the coffee shop and pouted. So near yet so far.
Clint thought about making a dash for it, then thought again. Shoving his hands into his designer pockets, he let a little of his inward moan show.
An elderly, yet spry-looking woman looked at her watch and tutted.
“Ah, to hell with this.” She shouldered her overstuffed purse and prepared to face the deluge. Her bag of butterscotch hadn’t even hit the ground before Clint caught her sleeve in one hand and the candy in the other.
“Here ya go.”
“Thanks, young man,” she said, stooping slightly to grab the bag from a now-crouching Clint Barton.
As the bag changed hands, something skipped into view. Clint turned and saw sandaled feet and bare legs flecked with raindrops. They looked kind of familiar, especially as he scanned upwards and saw the hem of a sundress skimming her thighs. He rose smoothly to a standing position, clocking the denim jacket with the elephant patch on the arm and finally, her profile.
It was her. The girl of his dreams. Well, daydreams. Daydreams he mostly had at night, safe and in private. Was “daydream” too nice a word for the nasty thoughts he had about her?
He kept staring; this was the closest he had been to her so far. She looked sexier than ever. Clint knew it was the proximity, but couldn’t help thinking that in all likelihood the wetter this woman got, the better she looked.
“Do you have it?” She was showing a waterlogged copy of a thick magazine to Sidiq, the wizened vendor behind the counter.
“I think so, let me check.”
Sadiq shuffled off and she turned her head, immediately giving a flattered smile when her eyes met Clint’s.
“Hi,” she said shyly, looking away hastily, then back again. She was still smiling, but looked more nervous now.
“Hi,” he said, taking a step closer. “I’m sorry, I know I was staring. It’s just I’ve been noticing you around lately. Are you new to the neighbourhood?”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied, looking a little less nervous. “I moved here three weeks ago.”
“Sounds about right,” he said with a nod. “I’m Clint by the way.” He extended his hand and she shook it.
“I know. I’m Y/N.”
Clint barely heard her over the crackles in the atmosphere when their hands touched. He let go with obvious reluctance, unable to help it. And maybe he was crazy but it seemed she was in no hurry to stop touching him either.
“So,” he said before a deep inhale, “looks like you weren’t expecting this either.” He eyed her flimsy dress and jerked his head towards the sheets of rain.
“Nuh-uh. I was just taking this copy of Interiors on a coffee date, next thing I know I’m using it as an umbrella.”
“Where were ya goin’?” he asked, hoping to hear a particular name.
“Fraction? I haven’t had chance to try it yet and I hear they do the most amazing-”
“-cherry pie!” Clint chimed in, making her laugh.
“That good huh?”
“You don’t even know.”
She bit her lip, looking like she was waiting for something, something other than the clean dry copy of Interiors that Sidiq was handing to her.
“Here lemme get that,” said Clint, going for his wallet.
“Oh, no, Mister Barton, I couldn’t-”
“Mister Barton!” exclaimed Sidiq, barking like a seal as he laughed. “Don’t waste formalities on this train wreck, Miss. Call him Clint like the rest of us.” He held his hand out towards the Avenger, steadfastly ignoring the money she was proffering. Clint put a bill in Sidiq’s hand and she gave up.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, turning to face the street. The downpour continued. Clint stood by her side. “Cream or ice cream?” she asked.
“What?”
“With the pie. Do I get cream or ice cream?”
“Custard ice cream, all the way. Otherwise there’s no damn point.”
“Unf. I don’t think I can wait any longer. I need it now. How ‘bout you?”
Clint tried to answer while hiding his blushes, not an easy thing to do. “Yeah, uh. I need it. Now.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait.” There was a sparkle in her eye now, like embarrassing him had given her confidence.
“You’ll get wet again.” He’d have kicked himself for the innuendo, if not for her response.
“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” Her eyes flicked to his throat, drawn by a bob of his adam’s apple. “Besides, now I have a magazine and an umbrella.” She held up the ruined magazine and stowed the new one under her jacket. Clint smiled.
“And what do I have?”
“Me.” She flipped the magazine open and Clint caught the edge. They lifted it over their heads and he took her hand. He took the lead, getting her across the flooded street at speed, but was surprised by the pace she set. It almost matched his own.
They neared the coffee shop and Clint let go of the magazine, reaching out to open the door. In one smooth motion he twirled her inside the building and followed immediately behind. Grinning like idiots, they shed their jackets on their way to a table for two set against the wall. A waitress approached once they were settled, and addressed the unfamiliar customer first.
“Welcome to Fraction, may I take your order? Hi Clint,” she added.
“Hey Gabby. Two cherry pies with custard ice cream. What coffee do you want, Y/N?”
“How sweet is the ice cream?” she asked.
“Sweeter than Tony Stark’s hiney,” assured Gabby.
“Oh, god,” groaned Clint.
“Really now?” asked Y/N, earning a wounded look from across the small table. “In that case just a black coffee please.”
“Same for-”
“Yeah yeah,” said Gabby, walking away.
Left alone, they traded small smiles and a slightly awkward silence. He didn’t want to fill it with small talk but it was hard for an Avenger to start out any other way with a civilian. At least, out in the daylight it was.
“So is this the best coffee place in the neighbourhood? I’m up to about four.”
“In my humble opinion, yeah. Where else have you tried?”
Coffee talk led to bars, which led to restaurants. Gabby came back over and they sat to attention.
“Two Americanos,” she recited while setting the steaming cups down, “and two damn fine cherry pies. Enjoy.”
She tried her ice cream first, closing her eyes and tipping her head back as soon as it hit her tongue.
“Right?”
“Right,” she agreed, pretending to weep tears of joy. “So, what were you saying?”
Clint went blank, momentarily stunned by the way her tongue darted out to keep a wayward cherry from falling off her fork.
“Clint?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. I was,” he paused to clear his throat, “telling you to try Cappadocia. The pizzas are insane.”
“Have you been to Turkey?”
“Maybe,” Clint said coyly.
“Right. Couldn’t tell me if you wanted to huh?”
“How about you?”
She scooped up the last cherry from the puddle of yellow and red on her plate, leaving Clint to wait for her to chew it and swallow. She looked away, then cocked her head expectantly. Clint twisted in his seat to see a familiar young face.
“Hey, Ollie!”
Ollie was an eight year old boy who lived in Clint’s building with his mom and baby sister. He walked up to their table with a sheaf of paper in his hands.
“Hey Clint. Take one of these.”
“Aw, flyers? Come on man you’ve already given me like eighty of these.”
“Mom says it’s not cute when men exaggerate.”
Y/N stifled a laugh.
“Oh, you concur?”
“Yes sir, I concur.”
“Yeah well, maybe you don’t have a pint-high hustler bothering you on your days off.” He said it affectionately, taking a flyer for himself then passing one to her. Ollie handed her another four.
“Tell your friends,” he said, then moved on to the next table.
“Should he be flyering after school?” she asked when the boy was out of earshot. Clint shrugged.
“No different than having a paper route I suppose.” Clint tucked his superfluous flyers inside the cover of Y/N’s magazine while she looked at hers.
“Good thing I’m already going to this, I’d hate to disappoint the little guy.”
It was an advert for a three day event in Central Park showcasing local artists of all types and levels. Clint asked if she was checking anything out in particular.
“Yeah, there’s some awesome street dance troupes tomorrow. Plus an auction of some work by students at The Art Center. We’re raising money to put on some free classes.”
“We? That where you work?”
“Oh, not me. I’m more…freelance. I’ll be teaching the class, the center is funding it. Holy shit,” she added.
“What?”
“Black Widow’s a lot bigger in person.”
Clint looked out of the window, nodding when he saw the figure outside that she was staring at. A six foot tall man in a catsuit with a beard and a red wig was posing for his friend’s phone.
“That’s Blad Vidow, kind of a famous face around here.” Clint turned back to her.
“Amazing. What does the woman herself make of it?”
“Eh, she likes it. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery and all that.”
“What about you?”
“I can’t wear catsuits, they’re murder on the crotch.”
She almost sprayed him with coffee, making him laugh at her as well as his own joke. She settled down but held his gaze steadily.
“Okay what?” he finally asked.
“You have kind eyes.”
“Refill?” Gabby was back at the table.
“Please,” said Clint.
“Latte for me this time, thanks.”
Clint excused himself and she took out her phone. He came back from the bathroom to find her scrolling through something familiar.
“What d’ya recommend,” she asked as he sat down.
“Oh, you lookin’ at Cappadocia?”
“Yeah, trying to figure out what to do for dinner. Thought I’d get one of those pizzas maybe.”
Clint licked his lips, calculating odds and trying to read her. She looked up and he tried to appear normal.
“It’s a nice place. Maybe we could go together. If you’re not sick of-”
“-no. Let’s go together.”
*****
“Oh, this is sooo good.”
“Take your word for it.” Clint took a bite of his own pizza, or pide to give it its proper Turkish name.
“Can’t believe you’ve tried every one on the menu but this one.”
“Fruit on pizza, honey. No way in hell.”
“Oh come on,” she said, insulted on behalf of her dinner, “it’s teeny little pomegranate seeds. They haven’t dumped a can o’ Dole on the thing!”
Clint smiled around his beer bottle, his third of the evening since they’d killed a little time at the restaurant bar before ordering. Before that it had been a long stroll around the neighbourhood after they’d left Fraction. He watched her take a bite and had to admit to himself, the little face she pulled had him intrigued about her choice of toppings.
“Okay so why should I approve of that there?”
“Well, for one, it looks pretty.” She gestured at the plate, and the glowing pink seeds scattered over little white pillows of feta. Clint nodded. “And when you eat it it’s salty-sweet like…”
“Popcorn?”
“Nooo, more grown-up than that…y’know what? Here.” She scooped up some of the controversial topping onto her fork and held it out for him. Clint hesitated.
“Come on, Hawkeye.” She waggled the fork at him and grinned mischievously. “Don’t be scared.”
Clint looked at the food, then looked at her. If anything was going to make him eat this, it was if it was being fed to him by this woman in a romantic restaurant. He leaned forward and did as she asked.
“Holy shit.”
“Like it?”
Clint crunched on the pomegranate seeds and felt his life change. She smiled smugly and carried on eating.
They had Calypso coffees instead of dessert, during which Clint asked who she was going to the art show with the next day.
“Me, myself, and I.”
“Aw, really?”
“I only have one friend in the city, and she’s organising the auction. So I’ll be lone-wolfing it like I have been most days since I got here.” She spoke more to her coffee than him as she talked.
“Well, I mean. I could go with ya if…”
Her smile was sudden, and beautiful.
“Yeah Clint. I’d like that.”
*****
A little while later they walked arm in arm down the street, almost in a straight line.
“Pizza!” she exclaimed.
“No, pide!”
“No, I mean pizza place. Regular. You haven’t recommended one.”
“Really? Doesn’t sound like me. Alright. Two blocksssss,” he looked around, waving his hand airily,” south. Tanya’s.”
“Cool. Can’t wait to try her Hawaiian.”
“You had better be jokin’, missy.”
“Missy,” she snorted, making Clint bump her hip with his own. “Left here.”
Half a block later, she slowed them down and took her arm from his. “This is me.”
“I always liked this building,” he said, looking up.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“Soooo, g’night?”
She shrugged and moved closer to him. “Maybe you should walk me up to my door?”
“Why?” he asked, thinking of abstract threats before thinking of getting lucky.
“Well, you are famous and it’s more private than out here and I was kinda sorta hoping for a good night kiss?”
He liked the smile she gave him at the end of the sentence. It was sweet, with a little naughtiness mixed in. Clint took her hand and they went inside.
No sooner had they got to her door than a gaggle of rowdy senior citizens rounded the corner, almost taking the couple out with sticks and walkers.
“Not quite that private,” laughed Clint.
“They’re at it every Thursday, I think they take turns hosting drunk shuffleboard or somethin’.”
Finally, they were alone. Clint didn’t want to seem too bold, even if she had told him what she wanted. His hands were gentle on her waist, he let her put her hands on him before seeking her lips and kissing them softly. But then her arms were around his neck and he held her more tightly, their mouths open and moaning as he backed her up until she hit the door. Clint’s hands wanted to move downwards but he forced them up, caressing her back which only made her arch into him. Feeling her like that, chest against his, made things start to go blurry and he kissed her harder. She took her lips from his and gasped, clutching at him.
“Too much?” he breathed, trying to fight the heat between them.
“God no. But we should probably stop, before I drag you inside and you lose all respect for me.”
Clint laughed. “It’d take a lot more than that I promise ya.” Taking a breath, he stood up straight. She still had a grip on his jacket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You bet your ass you will. And hey, since we already had coffee and went to dinner, technically it’ll be our third date.” She gave him a sly look, which he returned.
“I do love third dates, Y/N.”
She bit her lip and paused, as if double-checking with herself that she really wasn’t going to drag him inside.
“Um, you can call me Star. Nobody calls me Y/N.” She let Clint nod before adding, “I had a great time Clint. G’night.”
“Night honey.”
He waited until he heard the sound of her door locking before leaving, then walked the four blocks to his own apartment with a smile on his face.
*******
The next day there was not a cloud in sight. Clint found her where they’d agreed, by the obelisk. Someone was reading poetry and she was watching. He came to her side and gave her a nudge. She looked thrilled to see him. They grabbed coffee and went to see the dancers she had been looking forward to, then decided to have hotdogs for lunch. There were no free benches to be had, so Clint caught her around the waist and lifted her easily up onto a wall, before hopping up to join her.
This little show of his strength and agility turned her on, and she leaned in for a kiss. This time he kept it brief, bordering on chaste.
Clint finished his hotdog first, soon afterwards having to pull his phone from his pocket. He looked at the name and huffed, jumping off the wall.
“Sir.”
She knew right off what kind of call it was, and tried to focus on people-watching rather than eavesdropping. When Clint hung up the phone he looked up at her apologetically.
“Duty calls huh?”
Clint nodded. “Yeah.”
“Alright,” she sighed, balling up her hotdog wrapper and throwing it perfectly into a trash can ten feet away.
“Nice!”
She smiled and held her hands out. He took them and helped her down.
“I am sorry about this.”
“No, don’t worry. I guess this is what you have to deal with if you date an Avenger, right?”
Clint couldn’t help but look pleased about her saying they were dating, even after her teasing the night before.
“So let’s get you home and then I’ll go to work.”
“Home?”
“Yeah, I can’t leave you here. I should walk you home.”
“That’s very sweet, but it’s the total opposite direction to Stark Tower.” He looked like he wanted to argue so she went on. “Besides, I was coming here alone anyway, remember?” She came closer and touched him lightly on the chest. “So unless you have time to hang out and finish what we started last night…”
Clint whined and she gave him a conciliatory peck on the lips.
“Go be a hero. I’ll be waiting when you come back.”
“With open arms?”
“For starters,” she said with a wink.
“Jesus,” he chuckled, pulling her in for a hug. “Alright, I’m gone. You be safe.”
“You too.” She watched him walk away, not minding that he didn’t look back. With an ass like that, he didn’t need to.
When Clint was out of sight she took out her phone and started some random searches, trying to figure out what trouble he might be heading for and hoping it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Tapping the tile for her news feed, an item out of Argentina caught her eye. The next tile she tapped brought up her favourite contacts.
“Hey Sal. You see that piece about our old friends?”
Lads, I’m so proud of myself. I’ve written a whole six-parter prior to posting. I’ve never managed this before.
Anyway, part 1 will be posted soon and I’ll release one chapter every week. I hope my Marvel Trash will enjoy it, and reward my efforts with comments and reblogs. Signal boosts are appreciated!
Lads, I’m so proud of myself. I’ve written a whole six-parter prior to posting. I’ve never managed this before.
Anyway, part 1 will be posted soon and I’ll release one chapter every week. I hope my Marvel Trash will enjoy it, and reward my efforts with comments and reblogs. Signal boosts are appreciated!
When college student Reader meets Bruce Banner, a passion is ignited that neither of them can deny. Older, successful Bruce knows exactly what he wants out of the relationship. But can he handle his girl growing into her own woman? And will the attentions of the fun-loving Tony Stark be a help to her, or a hindrance?
Sugar daddy!Bruce x reader; Playboy!Tony x reader
Series warnings: More daddy kink and princess kink than you can shake a stick at; smut; angst; fluff; age gap; controlling relationship; cheating; childhood abandonment issues. Chapter rating: Explicit. WC:5.4k
A/N: We have reached the end, folks! I’d like to dedicate this final chapter to some MVR’s - @specialk-18 @strangeprincex @abschaffer2 and my beautiful beta @evansrogerskitten
Series masterlist
It had been four weeks since Bee had accepted James’s offer of promotion to Chief Financial Officer, and Operation Handover was in full swing. Five of her clients had had their affairs settled, and she was walking into work on a Monday morning ready to start tying up the loose ends of twelve others. To make things extra spicy, Bee was determined to accomplish this with a week’s vacation time to spare.
When college student Reader meets Bruce Banner, a passion is ignited that neither of them can deny. Older, successful Bruce knows exactly what he wants out of the relationship. But can he handle his girl growing into her own woman? And will the attentions of the fun-loving Tony Stark be a help to her, or a hindrance?
Sugar daddy!Bruce x reader; Playboy!Tony x reader
WC:5k Beta: @evansrogerskitten
Series warnings: More daddy kink and princess kink than you can shake a stick at; smut; angst; fluff; age gap; controlling relationship; cheating; childhood abandonment issues. Chapter rating: Mature
A/N: One more to go after this. Considering how self-indulgent this au is, it’s certainly been one of the trickiest things I’ve ever written…
Series masterlist
The tipsy man thought he was creeping stealthily under the goose feather duvet, even as he shushed the crisp cotton cover and the loud crunching noise it made in the dark room. Despite this, the woman already lying in the bed didn’t stir; not until he’d wrapped his arms around her and turned her into a little spoon.
When college student Reader meets Bruce Banner, a passion is ignited that neither of them can deny. Older, successful Bruce knows exactly what he wants out of the relationship. But can he handle his girl growing into her own woman? And will the attentions of the fun-loving Tony Stark be a help to her, or a hindrance?
Sugar daddy!Bruce x reader; Playboy!Tony x reader
WC: 4.8k Beta: @evansrogerskitten
Series warnings: More daddy kink and princess kink than you can shake a stick at; smut; angst; fluff; age gap; controlling relationship; cheating; childhood abandonment issues. Chapter rating: Explicit
A/N: I am so very very sorry to anyone who is only just learning how awful I can be to my characters.
Series masterlist
The elderly hotel maid walked gingerly through the cloud of steam, upset that it would probably ruin the set of her hair, not to mention make it reek of eucalyptus.
“Miss?”
The shower shut off and now there was only the sound of loud music coming through the open bathroom door.
“Miss?” she repeated, much more loudly.
“Yeah?”
“I-” she began, then stopped herself. You couldn’t hold a yelled conversation with the guests here; it wasn’t the St. James. The music stopped, and the young lady occupying the room came abruptly out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
“Hi.”
“Hello Miss. You asked for the room to be cleaned, I can come back later if it's not convenient.”
“No, no. You carry on. If you don’t mind working around me.”
Princess walked past the maid to her case and began to rummage around in it.
“You know, Miss, we have a lovely steam room downstairs at your disposal.” She gestured to the now-fading mist in the bathroom doorway.
“I needed privacy,” came the curt answer, “knock when you’re done in here. We can switch.”
The maid watched the strange girl seal herself back inside the bathroom, then shook her head.
“That girl needs her mama,” she muttered, then got to work.
The reason Princess had created a menthol cloud in the bathroom was to clear her sinuses which, after Bruce had made her cry for half the night, were completely blocked. She wished she could do the same to his number, but it wasn’t possible. Not yet. She hadn’t just ended a relationship, she had breached a contract.
At least, that was how Bruce saw it. Princess felt she was merely choosing not to renew a contract that had come to the end. College was over, there was no more tuition to pay, right?
“Room, board, nights out and clothes, including the fuckin’ whore outfit you wore when you cheated on me. What do you call that huh?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were doing those things out of love. Were you lying then or are you lying now?”
“I am not lying when I tell you I’m gonna take all your shit and throw it off the George Washington bridge!”
They had hung up on each other, and Princess rode the first wave of tears. She let everything out. All the frustration and hurt, what she’d done to someone she cared so much about. By the time she’d settled down she felt ready to try and be the bigger person, and called Bruce back. He answered quickly.
“Oh, there she is. Dry up those crocodile tears did we?”
“You can’t dry crocodile tears. That’s the point.”
“Well, somebody went to college!”
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth long enough to make sure no more smartass comments would come out.
“Okay Bruce, what is it gonna take?”
“What’s it gonna take? Let’s see. One, you come over here and ah! Shit!”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, too loudly, “just tripped over the uh, the thing.”
“Are you drunk?!”
“Are you judging? Some bitch just ripped my heart out, I can’t have a little Stoli?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to be reasonable. Of course he was drinking; she’d be doing the same in his place, surely.
“Alright Bruce. I’ll say goodnight. Call me tomorrow.”
“No, no! We can keep talkin’. Why don’t you come over here so we can sort this thing out face to face. Maybe you can show me which of my tricks you used on Tony.”
“Ugh! You are gross!”
“I bet you weren’t even rough enough for him. Is that why you’re still at the hotel? He decide he could do better? Bet you didn’t even slap his smug fuckin’ face-”
She hung up again. And cried again. Cried until she fell asleep. When she woke, it was four a.m. There was a voicemail on her phone.
“You are, as of this moment, cut off. The standing order to your account has been stopped. You have until midday to check out of that hotel and come home. If you don’t I’m cancelling your credit card and you are gonna have to beg me to come pay your bill. If you check out and go back to your little boyfriend Jordan, I’m cancelling the card anyway. G’night, Princess.”
That brought tears again, this time from fear of what the near future might hold. When she had asked Bruce what it was going to take, she meant in order to get out of the relationship as amicably as possible. And one point of negotiation was to let her keep her credit card in case she needed a sharp exit from the place she was going next. It was a long shot, and clearly Bruce wasn't going to invite her to take it. Bruce had sounded sober on the call. Maybe he’d stopped drinking after saying those awful things. Whatever the reason, there was no point staying at the hotel any longer than necessary. She called Bruce back.
Voicemail.
“Go fuck yourself.” She realised she sounded nasal but it was too late to stop. “Keep your money. The only reason I'm still here is because Tony doesn’t need to witness these conversations in his own home. As soon as I get my stuff I am moving in with him. Unless you want us both to turn up on your doorstep, you’ll let me know sooner rather than later when it’s safe for me to do that. Are we clear, Daddy?”
***
Fourteen hours later, Bruce texted to say he was going to Philadelphia for four days.
Anything of yours still in the loft will be thrown out when I get back.
“Why don’t you keep it for your next pet, Bruce?” she said out loud, before replying.
Thank you. Have a safe trip.
Fifteen hours later, when she and Jordan were having dinner in the hotel restaurant, the manager came to the table and discreetly asked if she could have a word.
“Whatever you have to say…” assured Princess, gesturing between herself and her best friend. The manager bent at the knees and waist and dropped her voice to a murmur.
“We ran your card earlier and it’s no longer working. Without a working card we won’t be able to allow you to stay.” She looked around, as if to say there was more to this but she really really didn't want to say it in front of other guests.
“So,” said Jordan, “he followed through, huh?”
“Looks like it. I am so sorry…” Princess squinted at the manager’s name tag, “Hope. Please allow me to finish dinner then make a call? I promise you’ll have a working card on file by the time the bar closes.”
Hope looked pained. “I require a working card now miss, it’s company policy-”
“Okay,” she said airly, picking up her phone from the table. “Let’s see if he’s cut this off yet,” she said to Jordan before dialling Tony’s number. “It’s working,” she added when she heard the ringing tone.
“Well sure, he’s not gonna cut the phone off ‘til ya block him.”
Despite the delicate and serious nature of the scene, Hope was quite curious about the apparent drama and surreptitiously moved closer so she could hear who answered the call.
“Your Highness. Everything okay?”
“Not quite, Tony. I’m up the East River without a working card. I have the hotel manager standing over me and my risotto is getting cold. Would you mind taking care of this?”
“Told you to let me leave you a card. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Save it for tomorrow. Here she is.” And with that she handed the phone over. Hope walked away. Before she was out of the dining room they heard a loud “Mister Stark! How wonderful to speak with you again. Yes, thank you so much for your assistance with this matter….”
Her voice vanished along with her figure into the lobby. Princess and Jordan locked eyes, pulled impressed faces, and carried on eating.
“So what’s the plan,” asked Jordan while they waited for dessert.
“Come by anytime from ten. Checkout’s at twelve. We’ll go to the loft, grab everything of mine that isn’t pink, and take it to Tony’s.”
“It’s kinda crazy - this is the first time I’m moving you that you actually have enough stuff you can leave anything behind, much less thousands of dollars worth of clothes.”
“I left you my TV when I moved in with the girls,” she protested.
“Doesn’t count, it’s still in the family.”
“And that is soooo depressing. When I’m stable I’m buying you a flat screen.”
“Don’t forget to buy Sergio’s thank you gift in the meantime. He had a blast making that anonymous call to Bruce but he’s looking forward to his Tullamore Dew.”
A waiter came over and took their orders for ice cream and coffee.
“Oh hey,” said Princess once he’d left, “have you spoken to Lauryn lately?”
Jordan looked alarmed. “No, I was gonna ask if you had.”
“I haven’t seen her since I went back to Bruce from your place. In fact, I think it was the night I got there. Granted I haven't called her for ages, had so much shit to deal with, but I texted earlier to tell her what’s up and, nothing.”
“That was the last time I saw her too. We haven’t spoken since.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.” Jordan tried to look pragmatic but he couldn’t hide his sadness. “I was hoping maybe you knew what was going on.”
“She ghosted you and you didn’t tell me?”
“Like you said, you had a lotta shit going on. What’s me being ghosted compared to what you were going through?”
“Oh, baby.” She reached out and squeezed his hand, always grateful for his sweetness. “Still, that’s pretty shitty. And for the record I’d always wanna know, alright?”
The waiter set their plates down and served the coffee.
“Alright,” promised Jordan, reaching for his spoon, “next time a girl makes a fool outta me I'll let you know. I'm sure it won't be long." Their soft laughter faded, and Jordan looked pensive. "I wonder what's going on. I hope she’s okay.”
“Anything big and I’m sure Asma would have gotten in touch. Did you go over there?”
“Yeah. Nobody was home so I put a note through the door. Still nothing.”
“Huh. Weird.”
“Yeah.”
*******
Next day, as she and Jordan drove down Park Avenue in an Enterprise van, they couldn’t help but scan the area for any cops who might get the wrong idea. Even with all the luxury Princess had enjoyed over the last two years, the idea that she was about to be invited into a Manhattan townhouse was uncomfortably alien. Bruce’s loft was at least hip enough to feel natural, not to mention attainable. This was…
“Old money as fuck,” observed Jordan as they turned down East 71st.
“Uh-huh.”
Tony opened the door to greet them before they had even climbed the steps. He shook Jordan’s hand and helped him with the boxes, sending his new house guest inside to make coffee. Tony refused to allow Jordan to carry her belongings upstairs, insisting he have a rest and that he would help their mutual friend sort them out later. The first impression Tony was making was a good one, but Jordan was even more cautious than usual after what happened with the last rich guy Bee had shacked up with.
He said goodbye and was waved off by the new couple (or whatever the hell they were) until the van rounded the corner. Tony closed the door and put his arm around her, walking her down the hall.
“Welcome to your new home. You want the grand tour?”
“Hell yeah.”
After seeing two terraces and the hot tub followed by the biggest kitchen she had ever seen, all five bathrooms and three living areas and the dining room, then a study and four bedrooms that could all compete for the title of Master, Tony put his hand on the final door handle.
“Now be honest about this room, it’s important that I know if you like it.”
“M’kay?”
It was another bedroom. Painted white with a black accents and two big sash windows. Tony had placed a vase of orange and yellow daisies on the vanity. It was on the top floor, so had more light than the rooms below.
“So?”
“Lovely," she said, recalling how dark Bruce's room had been when she first saw it.
“Great. I figured this would be the best choice for your room, don’t ask me why.”
She was taken aback at the notion.
“My room?”
“Yeah. Did you think I expected you to sleep with me every night?”
“Well, I…” Tony sounded so matter of fact, she tried to understand where he must be coming from. But, she came up with nothing. “Yeah, Tony. I did think that.”
“Oh god, honey.” He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders. “I would not do that to you right now. You got a lotta stuff to work out, you’ll need space for that believe me.”
“I’ve never had space in my whole life,” she said before she could stop herself.
“Jesus, really? Sounds exhausting. I need all the space I can get.”
“So that’s why you live alone in an airport.”
Tony smiled. Beamed, in fact. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s gonna be kinda fun having a minx like you around. But I want you to know this is for you as much as it is me.”
She looked into his eyes and realised that the last batch of tears she had cried were for nothing. There wasn’t anything to fear here.
“Do you always give your minxes their own room?” she asked cheekily.
“Wherever possible,” he said, making her laugh. “It’s nice to have someone around and it not be all about sex and freeloading. Although, since this is technically a housewarming…” Tony moved closer, lightly brushing her arms until his fingers reached hers. He gently guided her hands until she had her arms around his neck. She leaned in, enjoying the feel of his hands running down her back, then up again once they were under her shirt.
“Did you get me a housewarming gift, Tony?”
Tony tsked and screwed his eyes shut.
“Dropped the ball there honey. Sorry.”
“Oh, Tony,” she sighed, slowly moving one hand to his throat. Suddenly she squeezed. “That is so not good enough.”
**
Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, Bruce had worked so hard he had run out of things to do. He was surrounded by the ghost of a ladies clothing store that was about to be reincarnated as a branch of Betty’s and could do nothing more with it until the architect arrived. So, he was keeping his mind off his love life by ordering supplies for his new assistant. Like his Princess, she had turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Bright, hardworking, finance major. And sexy as hell. Bruce tapped his phone and when she answered, he even managed a tiny smile.
“Afternoon, Mister Banner.”
“Afternoon. You good?”
“Yep. But what about you, Bruce? Are you okay?” Bruce let the concern soothe him, even if there was still some doubt that it was genuine. None of his friends knew what had happened, only this new employee.
“Honestly, no.”
“You will be.”
He chuckled cynically. “If you say so.”
“I do say so. You’ll be okay because I won’t be giving you any other choice.”
The small smile widened of its own accord. “Is that a fact?”
“Yes sir, that's a fact.”
Bruce bit his lip and slid back into reality, encouraged by the little respite he’d been given.
“Well I won’t keep you. Just wanted to check you were all good for Monday.”
“Flatbush Betty’s, 8am sharp. I’ll be there.”
“Good. Got all your stuff sorted out here. Phone, laptop, credit card.”
“Sounds like I’m all set. Although, you sure I can’t start now?”
“I’m in Philly.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re away from home, at a time like this. Must be hard for you. I could come out there, you must have some use for me.”
The way she said it told Bruce they both knew exactly how she could be of use in that moment. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, confused and aroused. This was not the way he should be starting out with her. No way. But, it was true that he was missing having an assistant, what with all the planning and chaos of opening a new store. He could accept the help and remain professional.
“How soon can you leave?”
****
“Oh Tony, so good. Mmm, don’t stop, right there…”
Tony stared up at her as she rode him, hard as hell under her praise and doing his best to keep his hands to himself. It was difficult to do, she looked even better than she had in the hotel room. Something was making her glow. Maybe it was the liberation.
Look at those hips, rolling over his own like summer storm clouds. He needed to touch them, feel that flesh bouncing under his palms. He could sneak a little touch, while her eyes were closed. She might not even notice.
She had a hold of his wrist before her eyes opened and didn't even lose her rhythm. Wildly he stared at her, waiting for punishment. She said nothing, just lifted his hand and took his thumb in her mouth, sucking hard and drenching it with spit.
“Oh, fuuuuck,” moaned Tony.
She opened her mouth and pushed his hand down between her legs.
“You wanna touch me, you can touch me here.”
Tony dutifully pressed his thumb to her clit, playing and exploring until she looked lost again. This time he didn’t deviate from orders, not until after she came, at which point he started fucking up into her with abandon.
Emerging from the haze, she almost let Tony keep doing what he was doing. It felt so good to be grabbed and taken…but why end the housewarming party early?
“Tony, stop that.”
“Uh…baby, can’t,” he stuttered, turning his face away with screwed up eyes.
“You think if you can’t see me you’ll get away with this?”
“Just - wanna- come-”
SLAP
No soft little love-taps this time. A red mark was already blooming on Tony’s cheek. It looked nice with his dark eyes and back goatee.
“Spoilt little brat, aren’t you?”
He only stared back, mouth agape.
“You’re not getting yours until you earn it, Stark.”
“Yeah.” Tony nodded furiously. “Yeah. I’ll do anything, anything just please…”
She rolled her eyes and knelt up, disregarding his ramblings, which didn't let up even as she was lowering herself down onto his pretty face. When she placed his hands on her hips he smiled against her cunt and sent his tongue everywhere it could reach.
“Shit…Tony. That’s it, make me proud.”
He groaned beneath her, gripping her flesh almost painfully. He hit her clit just right and she grabbed his hair to keep him in place while she took control.
“Don’t move, don’t you move, just take this.”
When she came she yelled out much louder than before, so ferocious was the orgasm he gave her. And this time she only wanted one thing to follow - being nailed into the mattress.
“Oh, Tony,” she said sweetly, climbing off his drenched face. “You can be such a good boy when you wanna.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So good for me.” She kissed him sloppily, licking her own juices from his lips. “Why don’t you show me what a big man you can be, huh? Show me how strong you are.”
Tony had her flipped onto her back in an instant.
“Is this a trick, Your Highness?”
She smiled and smoothed his hair back. “Nuh-uh. It’s your turn to come baby. Take it.”
Tony bit his lip, then pulled her arms from around his shoulders and pinned them. He arched up over her, pushing her hips up with his own and making her cry out.
“This what you want, huh?”
“Yes! God, Tony, fuck!”
Tony let himself go, fucking her as hard as he dared and revelling in the feeling of finally having his way with her under his own roof. That wasn’t going to get him all the way there though, not with his appetites. After a while he freed her arms and she understood exactly why; Tony needed some pain to go with this pleasure.
With a back raked to hell by her nails, and a fist pulling on his hair so hard it could change his style, Tony flew over the edge and landed in her arms.
******
Manhattan life began to suit her quite quickly. Tony’s house was far too big for two, but somehow his warmth and sense of fun made it cosy whenever they were in the same room. He converted one of the other bedrooms into a study so she could have space to job hunt and take calls, but was always on hand to help her out with tips, workarounds and connections. Living so close to Park Avenue was seductive, as was shopping for suits and new casual clothes by herself (with Tony’s plastic, but still).
The only reason she had to go back to Brooklyn was to see Jordan, which she did as often as she could.
“Hey! What showing you wanna go to?”
“The one that takes me out back and shoots me.”
“Jeez, Jay. You sound awful.”
“You should see me. Who gets flu in August for god’s sake?”
“You, apparently. You need anything?”
“Nah, the new girl next door heard me coughing and went out and got me some shit.”
“Now there’s a meet cute for ya,” she teased.
“Meet snot more like. Rain check?”
“Well, obviously. Feel better baby.”
She hung up and pondered what to do with her Sunday. Tony was heading out to party on some yacht. She knew he’d take her if she wanted but from what she’d heard, this boat was going to be stocked with pussy and coke from the keel plates up. Not what she wanted to be around when she’d planned on getting a little slice of home.
Her thoughts wandered to Jordan’s new neighbour, and she hoped that if she didn’t prove to be a replacement for Lauryn, Jordan might at least be about to make a new friend. Lauryn had pulled a dick move, ghosting him like she had. Somebody ought to give her a piece of their mind.
Or at least make sure she’s okay, piped up the angel on her shoulder.
“Well yeah, that too.”
*****
“Bee! Come in!”
“Hey Asma. You look great. What’s with the headscarf?”
“Oh, my folks are in town. We had lunch today.”
“Oh yeah? Trying to bring you home?” asked Bee, following her into the living room.
“Actually, they want me to stay here. They found a swatch of husband material on Wall Street and want to make an introduction.”
“Wow. Marriage already? That’s big.”
“I heard you came pretty close yourself recently,” said Katya, emerging from the kitchen.
“Don’t believe all you hear bitch,” grinned Bee, accepting Katya’s offer of a hug. Over her shoulder, she saw a skinny figure lingering in the kitchen doorway. “Hey.”
“Hey,” said Stacey.
Katya let Bee go and went to join Asma on the futon. The two tried to make themselves small and stayed quiet.
“You look well,” said Stacey.
“You too. Your hair looks...you growing it out?”
“Yeah, trying for a bob.”
“Cool. So, looks like you guys are almost moved out huh?” Bee gestured around the space, so much starker than when she had moved out. Stacey’s wall hangings had been taken down. Bee hadn’t realised how much nicer they had made the room look.
“Yeah. We’re all actually moving to an apartment in Brooklyn Heights,” piped up Katya.
“Lauryn too?”
Now they all tried to look small and quiet.
“Guys.” Bee stood tall, waiting for an explanation.
“No. Lauryn’s…” Asma trailed off, and Stacey filled the conversational space.
“Lauryn has a studio in 217.”
“Huh, really?” Bee was surprised to hear that Lauryn was moving to Bruce’s neighbourhood. “I’d like to see her. She here?”
“She moved out already.”
“Oh, okay. Everything alright with her?”
“Um…”
“Um…”
Bee turned from the Um Twins on the couch to Stacey, who instead of offering information made an offer of beer.
“Why not?”
Bee passed an enjoyable half hour with three of her old roommates. Even Stacey was tolerable, although she didn’t offer anything approaching an apology for her behaviour. But neither did the other two, and she was managing to stay friends with them, so Bee decided it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
“So where are you living if you're not with Bruce anymore?” asked Katya.
“There's room in our new place if you wanna shack up with us again,” added Asma.
“Thanks but, I’m staying with a friend until I get a job. He has plenty of room and it’s handier for interviews.”
“He?” asked Stacey.
“Yeah. He.”
“And where does “he” live that he has all this room?”
“East 71st,” said Bee around her beer bottle.
“Nice, near FDR?” asked Asma innocently, while Stacey waited for the truth.
“Actually, um, he lives off Park.”
Katya whistled. Asma lifted her beer in congratulations. Bee just looked at Stacey.
“G’head. Let’s hear it.” To her surprise, Stacey held up her hands.
“Hey, I’m not here to judge.”
“Since when?!” exclaimed Bee, making them all laugh. Stacey recovered first.
“Look, we’re grown ups now, there’s really no need-”
The sound of a toilet flushing upstairs brought the topic to a halt.
“Who’s up there?”
“My boyfriend,” they all said in unison, before looking daggers at each other. Bee unsuccessfully tried to catch someone’s eye before taking off up the stairs to the room next to her old one and trying the door.
“Lauryn! Open up!”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs but stopped just short of the landing. Clearly the others were just up there to see what would happen.
“Come on Loz, don’t be stupid. I know you're in there.”
Still nothing, so she turned to the others.
“What the hell?”
Finally, Stacey admitted that Lauryn had said that if she showed up they were to tell her she’d moved out already.
“Why? Why, bitch?” she added, turning back to the door, which after the sound of a scraping lock, was flung open.
“Why do you care? God, college is over. You can move on from me just like you do everyone else!”
Bee was shocked. “What?”
Lauryn rolled her eyes. “Bye, Bee.”
“No!” yelled Bee, slapping her hand on the door to prevent it from closing. “If I did something, tell me so I can make it up to you, okay?”
Lauryn looked Bee up and down. “It’s not always about you, Princess,” she said with mocking sweetness, “some of us have lives to lead and sometimes, that’s the only reason you need to move on.”
Bee reeled a little, still not quite over the curveball she’d just been thrown. Lauryn made to close the door again but Bee stopped her.
“Okay, fine. Say our friendship means nothing if it suits you. But can you at least do Jordan the courtesy of saying goodbye properly? He really misses you, y’know?”
Lauryn ran a hand through her braids. They were longer and finer than they had been two years ago.
“Well, that’s too bad. Why don’t you be a good friend and tell him whatever he needs to hear to feel better.”
“Lauryn, come on.”
“Get your hand off my door, Bee.”
The two women stared at each other for a long moment. The others on the stairs were frozen to the spot. Lauryn shrugged and looked away. Bee stepped back and let Lauryn close the door in her face.
Lauryn walked slowly over to her bed and flopped down onto it. She stared up at the ceiling and let the adrenaline course through her system. After a little while she heard the sound of the front door opening, various calls of “be safe” and “take care” drifting up towards her window.
Lauryn snorted. As if anyone needed to tell Bee to take care of herself. She was a master at it, and Lauryn had learned some important skills during their friendship. She did feel a little guilty about what she’d done, but it was hard to feel bad for Bee when she’d managed to trade up from a Brooklyn loft to a townhouse within walking distance of Central Park.
Lauryn’s phone rang, and she smiled at the image on the screen.
“Hello boss.”
“Lauryn. Sorry to bug ya on a Sunday.”
“I am at your beck and call, Mister Banner. You know that.” Lauryn got up and went to the window. Bee was headed towards the subway.
“Speaking of. I gotta go back to Philly a day early. I need you to handle whatever is booked in for Tuesday and move anything you can’t.”
“Consider it done. You want me to fly out with you?”
“No, you come as planned.”
Lauryn giggled at his choice of words. “Whatever you say,” she purred.
“And that’s enough of that. We talked about this, didn’t we?”
“Yes sir. Sorry. See you tomorrow.”
Lauryn hung up and smirked. Let him tell her off for flirting, he was getting over a break up after all. She’d have half the pieces of his heart picked up from the floor before he even realised what was happening. Bruce would be hers by the year’s end and if she could keep him she’d be set for life. While Lauryn worked at that, her mom would get off her back about choosing to be his assistant instead of going for jobs in the City.
And she would have Bee to thank. Her friend really had taught her a lot about self-preservation. Not to mention a thing or two about how to please Bruce Banner.
Thanks for reading! Type a comment before you go and if you pair it with a reblog I'll be your best friend x
When college student Reader meets Bruce Banner, a passion is ignited that neither of them can deny. Older, successful Bruce knows exactly what he wants out of the relationship. But can he handle his girl growing into her own woman? And will the attentions of the fun-loving Tony Stark be a help to her, or a hindrance?
Sugar daddy!Bruce x reader; Playboy!Tony x reader
WC: 5.7k Beta: @evansrogerskitten - who deserves all the praise for handling the shit my OC's put her through!
Series warnings: More daddy kink and princess kink than you can shake a stick at; smut; angst; fluff; age gap; controlling relationship; cheating; childhood abandonment issues. Chapter rating: Explicit
A/N: This was incredibly hard to write, for a number of reasons. So, if you have anything to say, be kind.
Series masterlist
Nine circuits around the hotel room should have been enough to tell her that there was nothing else she could do to make the space more inviting. The bed was neatly made, sheets begging to be rumpled up. The lighting was natural yet flattering. The air smelled subtly of geranium and she smelled of Dior. Her reflection was so pleasing, catching it in the mirror should have provided a serotonin boost. But suddenly she felt as though she were being branded with a scarlet “A” to go with her scarlet dress.
One more go around.
This time she almost tripped over her suitcase, and that helped a little. That was Dior too; a pink and a brown wheeled vessel that Bruce had bought for her the day she’d moved in with him. The luggage she had used that day looked far more well-travelled than it actually was. No way was Bruce going to have her seen with it on vacation, so he’d gone online and purchased a suitcase fit for a princess. Today, it had proved fit for an escapee. It was filled to the brim with the essentials she’d hastily packed that morning after Bruce had gone to hit the gym.
How she had held it together as he left the apartment, she’d probably never know. It wasn’t just what she was about to do; it was all the preparation leading up to this moment. Snooping on Bruce’s diary and emails to make absolutely sure everyone would be in the right place at the right time. The phone call she had sworn she would never make, and the surprising thrill it gave her to do so. The sullying of her internet search history to make sure she had a good idea of what to do to secure the affections of the man who was heading towards her at that very moment…
Knock, knock.
She whipped her head around to the door and took a deep breath.
“Showtime.”
With one golden-heeled foot she shoved the suitcase over to the window. It had to be out of the way, but still visible.
The door knocked again, and she was quick to open it. There he was, looking relaxed and wealthy as ever.
“Hi Tony.”
“Your Highness.”
“Thanks for coming.” She stepped back, allowing him space to enter.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he stated as he walked inside. She closed the door and found him looking her up and down. “I have to say I’m intrigued. Usually when a beautiful woman invites me to her hotel room, I’ve spent a lotta time and money on her first.”
“I do not doubt it. Drink?” She opened the mini bar and bent artfully at the waist to look inside. Tony muttered something about vodka.
“Straight up?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yes please.”
It boded well that he seemed flustered already. She could only hope that she wouldn’t lose her cool so easily. She fixed their drinks and handed Tony his, along with an explanation.
“I appreciate you coming in blind.” Tony took the glass and she took a beat to appreciate the quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve always said we should spend some time together. And to be completely honest, I need someone to talk to. Someone who might understand what I’m going through.”
Tony scrunched his nose and looked sympathetic.
“So, talk.” He motioned to the glass table in the corner of the room and they took a velvet shell chair each.
“Well, first off I guess I should offer you an apology,” she said, crossing her legs and letting the skirt of her dress ride up.
“Me?” Tony was posing too, she could tell.
“Yeah. You helped set me up with Mister Rhodes and I didn’t do either of you the courtesy of applying for that position. Bruce said it was okay at the time but now I just feel stupid…and selfish too. I’m sorry I let him talk me out of it, Tony.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “He talked you out of it? Is he nuts?”
“He’s…” she shook her head slowly. “He’s planning out my life as a Real Housewife of Brooklyn. And apparently I don’t have a say in how we get there. And I know,” she paused to wave her hand and take a sip of her drink, “who am I to complain, right? Man’s been keeping me for ages and now he wants to commit, I have the audacity to get an attitude.” She looked at Tony, who did not look happy at all.
“You have every right to complain. You know, I knew he’d do this? Well, not exactly this. But sooner or later, he always fucks it up.” He pursed his lips as if to stop himself from saying more. “Forget him. How do you feel about all this?”
She took a deep breath, making sure Tony would notice the rise and fall of her chest. “Let’s put it this way. I’m wearing an outfit my boyfriend ordered me to return because it makes me look like, and I quote, “a whore”, in a hotel room where I’m drinking vodka with a man who hits on me in front of said boyfriend without shame. Safe to say, I’m not comfortable with the party line. ”
Tony sat back. “Ah, so this is just to get back at him.”
Slamming her glass down, she stood and pointed to her suitcase.
“Does it look like I’m renting this room by the goddamn hour?”
She walked away and sat at the foot of the bed, sniffing and rubbing lightly at her eye. He was with her in seconds, warm and contrite.
“I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean that. Are you really leaving him?”
“Maybe I’m just confused,” she said sadly. “I feel so misunderstood and neglected and you’ve always been so nice.” She reached up and put her hand on his neck, grazing his jaw with her thumb. “I just kept thinking about the way you always look at me and…I thought seeing you might help me feel better.”
Tony leaned in as she took her hand away.
“But, if you don’t want me like that any more then-”
He cut her off with a kiss. A soft, but sure kiss. It scared her; she kissed him back but couldn’t make more of it. So Tony gained more ground. His hand found her knee, rubbing firmly over her thigh on the way to her waist. It was enough to draw her in. She snaked her arms up and around Tony’s neck. His other hand caressed her back, eliciting a soft little moan.
“This what you want, Your Highness?” he asked gently, “want me to make you feel better?”
“Mhmmm.”
Tony leaned back, leaving her to search his expression.
“I can do that, honey. And you know how bad I want to. But you should know, I’m not up for just a quick roll in the hay. I have been waiting far too long to get my hands on you not to recreate one or two fantasies while I have the chance.”
“You fantasise about me?” she asked innocently. Tony looked down at her legs and licked his lips.
“You better believe it.” He was muttering again.
“How do you picture me in these fantasies, Tony?” she asked with such curiosity that God himself could be convinced she didn’t already know. Tony came closer again.
“Remember that night we danced?” he said, almost growling.
She hummed and smiled conspiratorially. “You were so bad!”
“You were so hot. Putting me in my place like you did. Showing me who’s boss.”
They stared at each other, two born risk-takers who only had seconds to turn back from the clandestine point they had reached.
She got to her feet and stood with her back to him.
“Unzip me.”
Tony rose, unsure of how much she understood.
“Honey…”
“I won’t ask again.” Her stern tone cut through the air like the lash of a whip. Tony knew then - she was speaking his language.
“Yes ma’am.”
They were facing a big mirror that hung over the dresser. Watching Tony undress her should have felt stranger than it did, but it was hard not to enjoy it. He was carrying out his task with such...reverence. When the back of her dress fell open, he gently trailed his fingers up her spine to her shoulders, pushing at the delicate straps until the dress fell to her feet.
“Glory be,” he whispered, eyes roving over her ass and her reflection before finally meeting her gaze. “What else can I do for you, Your Highness?” He kissed her shoulder, making her eyes flutter closed for a moment. Carefully, she took a step forward.
“That dress was expensive, Tony. Would you mind hanging it up for me?”
Tony looked like there was nothing else he would rather do. He crouched right down to get the dress and she knew it was so he could look up at her from her feet. The position suited him, she honestly believed he had better doe-eyes than she did.
“Take off my shoes while you’re down there.”
He smirked, a little bashfully it seemed to her, and did as she said.
“This is a great colour on you,” he said after sealing the dress in the closet, admiring the red underwear that she had also been ordered to return by the man that had paid for them. “You should wear it more often.”
That made her smile. “Thank you Tony.”
“May I?”
She nodded, and Tony reached out to play with one of the crimson chiffon daisies that decorated her breasts. He smiled to himself, and she asked what was on his mind.
“It just struck me how adorable yet unbelievably badass you are.”
“I thought those were the things you liked about me.” She moved behind him and started to remove his jacket.
“I like everything about you.”
“Hmmm.” She set his jacket down and took a deep breath. “Get undressed, Tony.”
Now he was the one before the mirror. By now he was craving her, and he had to make an effort not to rush. He got down to his own underwear and waited, letting out a surprised laugh when she snapped the waistband.
“These too, Tony. Don’t be shy.”
Seeing him naked, she really was blown away. He always was a good looking man but this was something else.
“Jesus, Tony,” she said, circling him and shamelessly leering, “no man has a right to look this good with no clothes on.”
“Not having the right never kept me from doing anything.”
She chuckled and slid her hands over his firm chest. “So cocky. I hope that attitude isn’t going to get you in trouble with me.”
“If it does, I hope you’ll let me know.”
She let her fingertips dance over the nape of his neck, lightly flicking the ends of his dark hair between her nails.
“Kiss me Tony.”
He did, and this time she reciprocated properly. Tony’s hands, previously resting patiently on her waist, moved to her ass when their tongues danced, fingers grabbing as much flesh as they could even as he was hoping he’d be made to stop.
“You want to please me, don’t you Tony?” she whispered.
His affirmation was so subtle she’d have missed it if they weren’t so close.
“I want to please you too. So I do hope you're not about to disappoint me.”
Tony closed his eyes and ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She was pleased with her own performance so far. She thanked a god that she didn’t believe in that Tony was so hot and handsome and kind. It made the whole thing so much easier.
“Need to get you ready for me, Tony,” she said gently, “will you let me? Will you let me suck this beautiful cock?”
He looked at her, almost dumb in his adoration.
“Yes please.”
She smiled indulgently and kissed the tip of his nose. “Get comfortable.”
Tony’s eyes flicked briefly to the mirror, and then he resumed his seat at the foot of the bed.
“Oh, hold on.” He sprang up to grab a couple of pillows, arranging them carefully at his feet. “Is that enough?”
She paused, remembering the day Bruce had given her what she dubbed her “head cushion”. Big, plush, with tassels on each corner. Like someone might buy for a pampered pet. It was nice enough, but while she was swallowing his cock as he stood over her, at some point her knees would always slide off the edges and onto the floor. She noticed that Tony had arranged the pillows so that wouldn’t happen.
“You okay, honey?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “You’re very thoughtful, Tony.”
Tony grinned happily, resting back on his hands and shimmying his hips. She placed her hands on either side of them and bent down so they were face to face.
“Think we should have a safe word? Since we’ve never done this before?”
He ran his tongue between his teeth and looked down at her chest.
“How ‘bout ‘daisy’?”
She laughed and he asked what was so funny. She shook her head and gave him a peck on the lips.
“Nothing, baby. Daisy’s perfect.”
She worked her way down slowly, branding his torso with searing kisses that had his chest heaving by the time she knelt between his legs.
“Mmm, look at that.” Tony was already standing to attention. She nosed the curls at the base of his dick and let her lips run along the length of him, finishing with a wet kiss over the tip. “Did you bring this here for me, Tony?”
“Yeah,” he breathed shakily.
“You gonna let me do what I want with it?”
“Yes! Oh fuck, yes, yes…”
She looked up. Tony’s head was thrown back, eyes closed, like he was keeping himself from losing all control already. She smiled and dove down, taking him in her hot wet mouth. She kept mostly quiet, only letting a few soft noises escape.
He was fully hard in no time, and ready to be pushed. She dug her nails into his skin and started to roll her hips, popping them in time to every bob of her head. Tony voiced his appreciation and she wrapped her hands around the base of his cock, twisting them around velvety skin that became wetter with saliva every time her lips met her hands. She kept it up until Tony forgot himself and grabbed her hair. Instantly she gripped his wrist and got to her feet.
“Uh uh uh.”
Tony babbled out an excuse until she put her hand over his mouth.
“Shush, baby. Calm down.” She wrapped him in her arms until his breathing stilled and he lifted his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” she cooed, “but no more touching without permission, alright?”
Tony nodded and dropped his hands to his sides.
“Lay down, baby.”
Tony scooted back with unashamed eagerness and collapsed down onto the covers. She smiled approvingly and walked around to the nightstand that she'd stocked earlier that day. Picking out a condom, she flicked it between her fingers so Tony could see the brand. He nodded and she tossed it to him. Next came some strawberry lube, enough to fully coat the length of him. Tony worried his bottom lip and watched her climb onto the bed, kneeling up over him.
“What do you want, Tony?”
He sniffed, and took a beat. If he said the words, would she know what he really meant?
“I..I want to see you naked. I want you to take off that underwear and fuck me.”
A little sweat broke out on his forehead. She leaned down and wiped it away with her thumb. Face close to his, she answered.
“That sounds nice, Tony. And as soon as you convince me, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Tony allowed himself a moment to thank his lucky stars, stars he could already see behind his closed lids. He felt her hand cup his cheek and smiled, turning his head to try and kiss her palm. Softly and slowly, she moved her hand to his neck. That made him open his big brown eyes. She applied no pressure, but for a short swipe of her thumb that made his lips tremble.
On she explored, fingertips dancing over his pecs and pinching his nipples. She held his sides lightly enough to tickle, then more firmly as they giggled together. The laughter died naturally, and she splayed one hand over his belly. Tony moaned and tried to stay focused, so hard to do when she was inching nearer to his dick. She knelt up, breaking the contact and he whined while gripping the sheets.
“Are you okay baby? You look a little strung out.”
“Need you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you believe me yet?”
She started to play with her breasts, toying with the pretty chiffon that covered them. When she moved to push the bra straps down Tony smiled, but she only let them fall off her shoulders. She licked her lips and smirked down at him.
“No.”
With a pitiful noise Tony arched his back and writhed beneath her.
“Hey!” she snapped, pulling his focus in an instant. “Eyes on me.”
She looked down and so did Tony. She was playing with her panties now, trailing the seams before pulling them to the side. He didn’t get time to choke out a curse before she dropped down and started to move her cunt back and forth along his dick, transfixing Tony with the sight of himself appearing and disappearing between her lips.
He needed her touch, but she had found a rhythm and moved her hands up to her hair. Tony drank in the sight of her, feeling like she was a devil woman and he was ready to sell his soul. He swallowed hard and tried to keep still, tried to take it until it was all too much. Unconsciously at first, his hips started to move, naturally falling into step with hers. Tony tried to stop but it felt like she was moving faster in response. Pleasure overtook him completely and he confused it with permission, pressing up harder and curling his shoulders up from the mattress…
…only to be shoved back down with a hand on his chest.
“Did I tell you to move?” she snarled.
“I’m s-”
This time it was a slap to his cheek.
“Did I. Tell you. To move?”
Tony’s cock twitched so hard she thought for a second he’d come. He shook his head, and she took a moment to study him. His face was flushed, eyes almost black the pupils were so wide.
She tutted and flicked his nipple, eliciting a pathetically pained noise.
“Aw, can’t you talk baby? Did I fuck your brains out without even giving you my cunt?”
“No, no. I’m sorry. I’ll be good please don’t stop,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please…”
She lay down on top of him, chest to chest and her arms framing his face. Tony sighed at the contact and finally calmed down. She played with his hair and he smiled happily. She smiled back; he looked so cute.
Damn, is this what Bruce has been doing to me?
“Tony?”
“Yeah?”
“Were you close?”
He hesitated, which meant yes. Still, if a thing’s worth doing…
“Tell me the truth.”
“I was,” he admitted, butterflies swarming at the possibility of consequence.
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips and pushed up onto her hands. “Not feeling convinced yet Tony, I have to say.” She rolled off him and onto her back. Tony was already sitting up.
“I promise I’m not-”
“-shut up. Get these off me.” She nodded towards her underwear and Tony started to pull them down her legs. She knew this was too close to what he wanted but the rucked up fabric was starting to make her feel sore. Tony knelt near her feet, her panties in his hand.
“Can I? Please?” He lifted them a little, and she nodded, biting her lip as he pressed the red chiffon to his nose.
“How do they smell?”
“Like sex. And strawberry candy.”
“Sounds delicious.” She shuffled across and spread her legs wide. “Eat up. And don’t stop until I come.”
Tony dove forwards eagerly, but she was pleasantly surprised when he slowed to nuzzle her inner thigh. He spotted a mark caused by her panties during their earlier antics and kissed it better. The tender worship felt good.
Then Tony got around to doing what he had been told to and boy, was he determined to prove he could follow instruction. He spread her lips wide with two fingers and leaned in like he was about to kiss her mouth. It was a filthy kiss. Greedy and sloppy and travelling everywhere until nothing had gone untasted.
For the first time that day, she could relax for a while. Tony was talented; she’d have been surprised if he wasn’t. He followed the rise and fall of her body, her heat, the natural wetness coating his tongue. This princess was close to coming apart and the thought made him preen even as he latched onto her swollen pearl and worked it over and over.
“Tony…so good, so good. Oh god…” She was quieter now, but the praise almost knocked him out. Tony didn't remember reacting to it, which was a shame because whatever he did had her coming twice in his face.
He managed to remember his place, staying still at her side while she came down even though he wanted to embrace her. She turned her head and found puppy dog eyes staring back at her. She smiled and stroked his beautifully dishevelled hair.
“Now do you believe me?”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
“Yeah Tony, I believe you. You did so good.”
Something between a growl and a laugh sounded in his throat and he kissed her back, mumbling “thank you” between each peck of their lips.
“Why don’t we change this, hmm?” she said with a playful slap of his dick. She got off the bed and he sat up in the middle of it.
“Good call,” agreed Tony, pulling off the condom and aiming it expertly at the trash can. She climbed back up in front of him and slowly put her hands behind her back. The glacial pace at which she pulled the bra down her arms was excruciating for Tony, but in the best way. She tossed the lingerie onto the floor and cocked her head.
“Worth the wait?”
He nodded, making her frown.
“Words.”
“Yes, so worth it. May I?” He tried to close the space between them, but gained millimetres only.
“No. Lay down.”
“Please!”
“I know what’s best, now do it.”
Hearing herself quote Bruce even as Tony was obeying her, cast a sordid shadow on the whole scene that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t need that, not now they’d reached the point she was most nervous about. Maybe she should bolt. Cut her losses and go home before Bruce realised she was gone…
“Baby, you okay?”
“Hmm? What?”
Dammit
“I was asking if I could touch myself.”
Something told her that that was a sight well worth the price of admission.
“Please do,” she said with a smile.
Tony’s whole body seemed to exhale in relief as he took his dick in one hand, gently fondling his balls in the other.
“Thank you. Fuck…thank you.”
“Poor desperate Tony,” she mocked, drawing his attention. She coated her thumbs and forefingers with saliva and played with her nipples, making him gasp and pump harder. Cupping her breasts, she blew on them, shocking her warm wet nipples with the cold. They stiffened and so did Tony.
Almost absentmindedly she stroked and teased her own body. With greater care, she watched what Tony was doing, feeling an unexpected weight in her core at the effect she was having on him. He was close, she could just let him jerk off to her and not worry about going any further…
…but she knew that wasn’t the way to Tony Stark’s heart.
“Stop.”
He froze. She leaned down and gently took hold of his wrists, guiding them to his sides.
“Good boy.”
“I need you,” he whispered, “I can’t take any more.”
“I’m here.” She rolled a new condom down over his length and added a slick of lube to help her on her way. If Tony noticed her hands trembling, he didn’t say anything. She took her time lining him up, trying not to get in her own head over what a big deal this was. But it was harder than she thought it’d be.
She noticed that Tony was gripping the sheets again, and wondered if a little closeness might do the trick. Willing herself to open up, she took him inside her and they both felt that soft shock of the unfamiliar. She let Tony moan and writhe shamelessly beneath her while she adjusted to him. His eyes found hers and he ran his tongue between his teeth.
“Come here, Tony.”
He moved slowly, first propping up on his elbows, pausing to look at the point where their bodies met before rising up further, staring but not touching.
“That’s it, g’head. You’ve earned it.”
It was like he’d been released from a cage. Tony sat up and gripped her hips, pulling her up and back down onto his cock so her tits were in his face. He went at them with all the passion and intent he’d shown when his head was between her legs and his hands were everywhere. When they accidentally found that spot on her back she moaned out his name and started to move against him. Tony helped her, rolling their bodies together deeply and slowly. Sweat mingled, soft and gratified noises drifting on the sex-scented haze between them. Tony moved his lips up her neck and over her jaw, stopping to look up into her face imploringly.
“Fuck me, Your Highness.”
She took a deep breath, raking her nails over his shoulders and pushing him down onto his back. She braced herself on his chest and gave him what he wanted.
“Oh, that’s it. Thank you baby, thank you.”
“My pleasure Tony. You’ve been so good for me.”
“Unf. Yeah?”
“Yeah. Let me play with your cock, made me come so hard…” Her hands travelled towards his neck, sliding further as they rocked against each other harder and faster.
“Oh god,” Tony cried, “yes, yes!”
Firmly, she wrapped both hands around his neck, pinning him by the throat as she rode him. Tony let her have her way, feeling more fucked out with every snap of her hips. With a final hard squeeze, she took one hand from his throat and ran it over his face.
“Good boy Tony, such a good boy.”
Tony panted and licked at her palm, chasing her fingertips when they danced over his lips.
“You hear me baby? Huh?”
“Mhmm!”
She did it again, and this time Tony caught her by her wrist, pulling her thumb into his mouth. She gasped; something about it felt indescribably good. Tony knew it too. He could tell from the feel of her juices running over his balls. He kept hold of her, gently stroking the sensitive skin on her inner forearm while she kept a grip on his neck with her other hand. Light and shade were merging more perfectly than perhaps either of them had hoped.
“Oh god, Tony, that’s it…give it to me, give it to me - fuck!”
She felt Tony’s hands on her waist, his own orgasm racing after hers, chasing it down until he arched up underneath her.
“Jesus Christ! Fuck, I knew you’d be good…fuckin’ knew it!”
“Tony,” she giggled, putting a finger to his lips, “quit yelling, you’ll get us thrown out!”
“Let them try. I’ll buy the place out of spite.” He tucked one arm behind his head and caught his breath. She climbed off him and grabbed some water from the minibar for each of them. She downed over half of hers before being forced to stop for a harsh gasp of air. Being the top was thirsty work.
“Hey.”
Tony was eyeing her, lips pouting softly. He jerked his head and she came in for a cuddle.
For a while they lay still, quietly tangled together. Outside the windows all the things they had just blocked out became apparent once again. New York traffic, boats on the East River, the cold light of day. Finally Tony beat them back.
“So did it work?”
“Did what work?”
“Luring me here to make you feel better.”
She laughed and adjusted the position of her head on his chest. She would have challenged his use of the word “luring” but it was more perfect than he knew.
“Yeah Tony, it did. Thank you.”
“Nuh-uh, thank you. That was spectacular, you have no idea.”
She hummed and lifted her head to check the clock on the nightstand.
“Damn, we missed lunch.”
“Room service?”
“Actually, why don’t we head downstairs? I could use a cocktail.”
“Ah, if you insist.”
When his back was turned, she took what had to have been the hundredth deep breath of the day. This show wasn’t over yet.
****
Bruce had been ignoring his phone for five minutes, but whoever was calling him was not taking straight-to-voicemail for an answer. In the end he gave up and excused himself from the meeting.
“Yeah?”
“Is this Bruce Banner?” It was a guy, with a thick Brooklyn accent. He sounded like Jordan, but older.
“Yeah this is Banner, who the hell is this?”
“A concerned friend.”
“You don’t sound like any friend of mine, and if you were you’d know not to bombard me with bullshit calls during working hours.”
“Wouldn’t do this to ya if I didn’t have to, pal. But you might wanna take a break and head over to the bar of the William Vale on North twelfth.”
“Gimme a good reason or hang the fuck up, pal.”
“Your princess is there. She looks hot as all hell and she ain’t alone.”
“What-”
The line went dead. Bruce tried to call back and got nothing.
His head spun and he tried to slow it down with rationality; whoever called was telling him to go somewhere that was conveniently close to his current location. The whole thing was too sketchy to take seriously. Princess was in all likelihood at home where he’d left her.
A head poked out from behind the meeting room door.
“Bruce are you - woah, everything alright?”
Knowing that whatever he was feeling was written all over his face made up Bruce’s mind.
“Sorry, I gotta go. Family emergency.”
****
By the time Bruce reached the boutique hotel, Princess had a voicemail, a text, a WhatsApp and six missed calls on the silent phone she had deliberately left in the hotel room. Her Mai Tai had barely been touched, not that Tony seemed to notice. He was still full of himself after their afternoon delight.
Bruce spotted Tony first. He was sitting at the end of the bar, radiating something Bruce didn’t like. His companion had her back to him. He could put the hair, colouring and build of her down to coincidence for the blissful few seconds more it would take to reach them.
Then he heard her voice.
He had to stop, just for a moment. Whatever was going on here, it was up to them to explain. Composure on his part was key.
“So what do we have here?”
Tony was startled, and had the decency to look a little defensive. But Princess merely turned her head towards him and took a leisurely sip of her cocktail. Tony’s eyes flitted between them like he was at an adultery tennis match.
“Well?” Bruce trained his eyes on her, fuck Tony and whatever he had to say. She put her drink down carefully.
“It’s uh, well…” she shrugged and looked Bruce right in the eye. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
Anger flared, and Bruce could only look at her like he could kill her while he brought it under control. She wasn’t cowed. She trusted that Bruce wouldn’t get violent over this, at least not towards her. That was why she’d arranged to be “caught” in the bar - in the privacy of the room she couldn’t swear that poor Tony wouldn’t get his ass kicked. But no way in hell was Bruce Banner going to throw hands in a five star hotel in front of God and any one of his clients or associates who might bear witness.
“Okay. You had your fun. Get your shit together and come home.”
“Home? Weren’t you the one who said there would be no coming back from this?”
“Don’t be a smartass. I’m not letting you go over a fast fuck no matter who the asshole is.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart here, Banner.”
“Don’t start, Tony.” Bruce pointed a finger at Tony’s fascinated face then moved it to Princess. “Move your ass. Now.”
“No can do, Bruce.” She reached out, and covered Tony’s hand with her own. She and Bruce both stopped breathing, both looking at Tony, who still looked like he was watching a car crash. He blinked his big brown eyes, then turned his palm upwards to lace his fingers with hers.
Bruce huffed out a laugh and shook his head. She felt heat rising, and willed him to walk away before she cracked.
“Unbelievable.” Bruce looked around, then back at her before walking away. “Well played, Queen Bee,” was his parting shot. “Well played.”
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