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Consequences Considered

Title Consequences Considered Link A03 Square Filled B1 Ship Clint Barton/Scott Lang Rating explicit Major Tags oral sex, brojob, clint’s getting a divorce Summary On their way to help Captain America, Clint gets some bad news from home. And Scott makes an offer that Clint doesn’t feel like refusing Word Count 1,643 Created for @mcukinkbingo

Clint Barton was in the back of a van being driven by a rogue SHIELD agent, halfway through Ufuckistahn wherever on his way to commit mayhem. Perfect time for a Dear John text. Of course.

He wasn’t surprised. Not even a little bit.

I want a divorce. Don’t come home.

Disappointing his kids didn’t even come close to what he was doing. Consequences fucking considered. He knew, he fucking knew it was gonna be bad. If they were fucking lucky, no one would end up dead, but that was the most Clint was going to hope for.

He didn’t answer her. Laura was done with his shit, and Clint didn’t blame her. He’d promised he was home for good and as soon as Steve had snapped his fingers, Clint couldn’t wait to get back into his tactical gear, feel the thrum of power in a bowstring.

He was a fucking Avenger, and Captain America was calling him in.

That was all he was. It was how he defined himself.

“What’s up?”

God, what the fuck was up with this guy? How did anyone even know him? The guy had packed up a black and red freaking motorcycle suit.

“Wife wants a divorce.”

“Oh.” Bug Guy considered that for a moment. “So, like, is that good news or bad news?”

Clint shrugged. He wasn’t going to worry about it today. Right now, he had too much on his mind. “Not your problem.”

“No,” Bug Guy said, slowly, like Clint was a particularly thick-headed child. “Just wondering if you needed like a beer.”

“I need a blowjob,” Clint said, because that usually shut assholes up who were getting in his business when it wasn’t theirs.

“Like, a celebratory, fuck you sort of blowjob, or more like a sad, crying orgasm kind of blowjob?”

(more below the cut)

Clint’s dick twitched a little at that. “You offering?” Non-marital sex had been off the table for a long time. There was always something a little exciting, a little extra, about a first time. Especially a first time with someone you didn’t give a shit about, didn’t care if they enjoyed it, just looking to get your rocks off.

They were going into battle soon, and the less Clint thought about who they’d be fighting, the happier he was going to be. A bunch of Captain America knockoffs fighting for some asshole with delusions of grandeur. Control words, but according to Cap, they hardly needed them.

“Yeah, okay,” Bug Guy said. “You’re hot, I’d blow you.” The guy wasn’t bad looking, really. Sassy mouth.

Clint sat up on the bench seat and unbuckled his belt. “Ain’t gonna suck itself,” he said, spreading his thighs and gesturing, because he’d always wanted to say that.

Bug guy -- shit, Clint almost slapped himself in the forehead, because, really. He wasn’t that guy, was he...

“I got this,” the guy said, kneeling between Clint’s legs and reaching for his zipper. Clint grabbed his wrist. “Wait, were you… I’m sorry, man, were you kidding, because I totally wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t,” Clint said, and his voice was just a little harsher than he expected it. “I just… I’m calling you Bug Guy in my head and that just seemed rude.”

“Oh… it’s Scott,” Scott said. “And it’s Ant-man. You know, in case that mattered.”

“Ant-man?” Ant. Man? Fucking really?

“I didn’t come up with it,” Scott said. “And… you know, I talk to ants. So, it makes sense. A little.”

“Right. Ant-man. Scott. I’m Clint.”

“Yeah, Hawkeye. I totally know, like I’m a big fan. I even broke into your compound, few months back, had a run in with Falcon. Big fan of his, too. Kinda kicked his ass.”

Oh, god, Hawkeye was not going to let Wilson forget about that. Because that’s probably exactly what happened, given that Wilson hadn’t said a word about it, aside from “I know a guy.” That was fucking gold right there is what that was. “You’ll have to tell me about that. In detail.”

Scott nodded and Clint let his wrist go. “After.”

“After.”

Scott was smooth, got the zipper down and tugged Clint’s cock out through the vee like it was something he did all the time. Who knew. Maybe the guy did drunk blow jobs in bars for a living when he wasn’t running around talking to ants. Everyone had to have a hobby, right?

A few strokes of his hand, and Scott had smoother hands than Laura did. Of course, that wasn’t even unexpected. Laura worked a farm, she drove a fucking tractor, she bailed hay. But Scott’s hands were soft, the fingers long, and he worked Clint’s cock over with avid interest. Eyes as big as saucers, mouth pursed up like he was already imagining what Clint’s dick was going to taste like.

Clint slumped a little in the seat, letting his legs spread wider. He didn’t have much of a technique himself, for jerking off, when he did it. Needing to come was like needing to take a piss. No need to make a production out of it.

But Scott took his damn time, rubbing his thumb over the ridge, fingers dandling along the shaft like he was getting paid by the hour. Felt good. Felt damn good, and Clint had to clench his thighs not to shift up into Scott’s grasp, to try to stay cool. Casual. Just a brojob that meant nothing at all. A giggle and a good time before they’d probably get killed by a bunch of Captain America knockoffs. Right?

Scott tipped his head, looking up at Clint with those blue eyes, long lashes, and then opened his mouth and went down, without ever looking away. His tongue pushed down on the head of Clint’s cock, probing, licking, sampling, and Clint twitched. Let his legs spread even further. Reached one hand out, hesitated, then -- fuck it -- grabbed a handful of Scott’s hair.

Scott groaned into that, the sound vibrating over Clint’s skin, through those plush lips, and he moved his tongue even faster, little flicking licks that set every nerve on fire.

Stupid, Clint thought, how a chem-dump in the blood stream could get to a guy. In that instant, Scott was beautiful. His eyes were fucking gorgeous, those eyelashes, his cheekbones, his nose, the faint tan lines around his eyes. His mouth. Dear Christ his mouth was beautiful. Chemistry, biology, hormones, and Clint was arched up off the seat, trying to get closer.

Scott just opened up and took him in, all the way to the hilt, and it had been a while since someone did that, been a while since he had a fist full of hair and was fucking someone’s mouth, dear Christ. Scott’s mouth was a furnace, hot and wet and slick, and his tongue was some sort of devil’s lash, moving sinuously around and around.

Scott tongued at the slit and Clint’s body jerked forward reflexively, his hand tightening in Scott’s hair. His clever tongue flicked around, finding all the best spots, not like there were bad ones for a blow job as long as it didn’t involve teeth or anything, Clint was usually good with it. But Scott seemed to know with some sort of crazy telepathy, exactly where Clint liked it, how hard, how fast, or maybe it was a universal thing. Clint didn’t know. He had only blown a guy once before, and…

Christ, how was he supposed to think at all? Scott nudged and nosed lower, licking at Clint’s balls. He wanted to close his eyes, lose himself in the sensation, but at the same time, watching Scott watch him was so fucking hot. Needed to see the way Scott moved, the way his lip got swollen, the way his cheeks got red as he moved.

“Feels amazing,” Clint said, answering the question he saw, not even thinking of the fact that he was fucking praising a guy who was blowing him for giggles, until Scott’s eyes brightened and that blush spread.

Clint’s balls drew up tight and he knew he wasn’t going to last, and maybe that was okay, because this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He gasped, once, sucked in another lungful of air and held it until it was burning.

“Gonna,” he said, trying to be fair and give Scott a warning in case, but Scott just hummed thoughtfully and took Clint in further, until Clint was all the way in that heated, wet throat. Every muscle in Clint’s body tightened, froze, and his hands gripped Scott’s head, the wild, springy hair wrapped around his fingers. He shuddered, cried out, came. His toes curled up so hard that it left his calves aching with it. Came so hard he went dizzy and if he hadn’t been sitting, he surely would have fallen.

Scott swallowed and more shivers wrung out of Clint’s spine until he was trembling and limp and suddenly fucking exhausted. But in a nice way. Everything was all warm and floaty.

With a gasp for air, Scott pulled off him. Wiped his chin and grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah?”

Clint had no idea what Scott meant by that. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was for getting a blowjob in the back of a van. It had, literally, never happened before. “It was good,” he said, finally. Not sure if he was supposed to offer for Scott, or--

Scott climbed up onto the bench next to him, scrunched down a bit and rested his head on Clint’s thigh. Awkward, Clint tucked himself in and zipped up. “Wake me up when we get there,” Scott said, and how the hell was he the one who was half-snoozing already?

Clint looked down at the man in his lap and absently ran his hand through Scott’s hair. It was good. It had been good.

Maybe… maybe it would be good again. Later.

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