"I’m not complaining." He chuckled, moving his neck to leave him more space. Hips still grinding, his own body reacting to the contact and the excitement. The arousal. "I have striking looks after all." Letting out that light joke only made the chuckle louder, and somehow, the mix of tickles in the neck didn’t help.
Bruce can't help himself anymore. He takes Clint's arms by the wrist and slowly guides them so Clint gets a handful of his ass. He presses his forehead against Clint's once more, stealing a quick kiss before he's stuck between rolling his hips forward against Clint, and backward against the hands cupping his ass.
❝ That's where your hands should be... ❞
















