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Feb. 16th, 2011 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaClint's never felt more vulnerable than he does right now. He squeezes his eyes shut and his breath hitches, a scream of panic trapped in his throat. He can't do this. He can't...
"Clint?" Warm, big hands stroke soothingly down Clint's bare back. Steve's hands are calloused, rough, but he's always so gentle when touching the people he cares about, he's so aware of just how easily all of them could break.
Clint is breaking.
"Should we stop?" Tony asks, but his hand doesn't stop no matter how solicitous he sounds. His hand keeps moving up and down on Clint's dick.
Clint can't open his eyes. He's scared of what he'll see, or more accurately, of what he won't see. It's been a hellish few months. Bobbi's death... his encroaching blindness... his brother... "Don't stop." His voice breaks and suddenly he's being pulled back into Steves arms, pressed up against that big broad chest. All Clint can think is about Tony pulling him into that room with scans of his brain up on the walls.
He's here to keep you in the room.
"Okay, we won't stop." Steve's voice vibrates through Clint's chest. He can feel it and hear it. "Tony?"
"You don't need to tell me twice." And Tony squeezees Clint's dick again before stopping, giving them a chance to rearrange themselves, Steve manhandling Clint who can't, won't, open his eyes and keeps his hands at his sides, strangely passive.
Clint's ends up on his back, Tony stradling his hips cowgirl style while Steve lies on his side, his hands stroking and pinching and just touching both of them. "Not going to look, Clint? It's not something people see very often." Tony's voice, cocksure and such a dick as he lowers himself down onto Clint's condom covered erection. His nails bite into the pads of his hands as they clench at his sides but Clint can't quite bring himself to touch Tony right now, but even the decision of indecision is taken away when one of Steve's big warm hands gather Clint's hands up and hold them above his head, pinning his wrists down.
"It's alright, Clint." Steve murmurs, warm and slightly wet, in Clint's ear.
"Yeah, feather head. Don't think." Tony's ass clenches around him and Clint bites his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the shout. "You don't even need to see. Just feel."
"Clint?" Warm, big hands stroke soothingly down Clint's bare back. Steve's hands are calloused, rough, but he's always so gentle when touching the people he cares about, he's so aware of just how easily all of them could break.
Clint is breaking.
"Should we stop?" Tony asks, but his hand doesn't stop no matter how solicitous he sounds. His hand keeps moving up and down on Clint's dick.
Clint can't open his eyes. He's scared of what he'll see, or more accurately, of what he won't see. It's been a hellish few months. Bobbi's death... his encroaching blindness... his brother... "Don't stop." His voice breaks and suddenly he's being pulled back into Steves arms, pressed up against that big broad chest. All Clint can think is about Tony pulling him into that room with scans of his brain up on the walls.
He's here to keep you in the room.
"Okay, we won't stop." Steve's voice vibrates through Clint's chest. He can feel it and hear it. "Tony?"
"You don't need to tell me twice." And Tony squeezees Clint's dick again before stopping, giving them a chance to rearrange themselves, Steve manhandling Clint who can't, won't, open his eyes and keeps his hands at his sides, strangely passive.
Clint's ends up on his back, Tony stradling his hips cowgirl style while Steve lies on his side, his hands stroking and pinching and just touching both of them. "Not going to look, Clint? It's not something people see very often." Tony's voice, cocksure and such a dick as he lowers himself down onto Clint's condom covered erection. His nails bite into the pads of his hands as they clench at his sides but Clint can't quite bring himself to touch Tony right now, but even the decision of indecision is taken away when one of Steve's big warm hands gather Clint's hands up and hold them above his head, pinning his wrists down.
"It's alright, Clint." Steve murmurs, warm and slightly wet, in Clint's ear.
"Yeah, feather head. Don't think." Tony's ass clenches around him and Clint bites his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the shout. "You don't even need to see. Just feel."
