Would you maybe be interested in supporting my desperate need for a rare pair that sails by the ship in the name of "ironhawk"? If you fancy? With some needy bottom clint and a "i have all the time in the world" top tony? Pretty please with a cherry on top?
i can’t promise this will be completely top! tony but it definitely is dom!tony so hopefully the trade off is okay
//
“You were in the circus right?” Tony asks noncommittally, running a single finger on the underside of Clint’s thigh, scratching slightly at the juncture of his knee. The movement makes Clint twitch, and he’s torn between pulling his leg away from the movement and pushing into it.
“I didn’t know you knew that,” Clint replies, trying to focus on Tony’s words instead of his actions.
“I read up on you,” Tony continues, in that same tone, as if they’re having a conversation over coffee, as if Clint isn’t spread out naked in front of him, cock at half mast and skin flushed even though Tony is yet to even fully unbutton his shirt, “I read up on all of you, before I let you into the Tower. I wasn’t going to let just anyone live here.”
“But you,” there’s two fingers now, drawing distinct patterns on his thigh, “you I paid special interest to. I wanted to know everything about you.”
“Yeah?” Clint aims for cocky, but it just comes out as breathy, “What did you learn?”
Tony stills his fingers and looks up at Clint, dragging his eyes slowly across the length of his body before meeting his gaze with an even expression. They’re spread out unusually; Tony’s on his knees, bent out and sat up, while Clint is lying down with his bed propped on a pillow; legs splayed out on either side of Tony’s waist.
If Tony jerked his hips forward, his cock would rub against Clint’s; and Clint would bet top dollar that the suit Tony’s currently wearing would rub against his skin to give him just the right kind of friction.
“I learnt that you are remarkably flexible,” Tony says, and his hands move again, wrapping around his thighs and tugging them until they’re hovering just above the bed, “that you can bend yourself in half; take your knees and put them next to your ears.”
Tony moves slightly, and Clint has to bite back a moan at the way his dick brushes against his perineum.
“And I was thinking,” Tony continues, “that a demonstration was in order.” He tightens his fingers, hard enough that Clint knows he’s going to have bruises the next day.
“Why don’t you show me?”
Fin