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As with all things, it was Clint Barton's fault.
"He's a skinny, little thing, ain't he?" the archer jeered between bites of turkey bacon over breakfast one morning. The team usually gathered to gathered for breakfast after their morning training session and today was no exception. Steve frowned at the arrogant archer from around a spoonful of oatmeal. His eyes darted over to the twins as they washed the dishes. They spoke in their native tongue - Wanda's voice lilting but pointed; Pietro a silky, sarcastic drawl - as they rinsed their syrupy plates. She snapped a soapy dish towel at her brother's side when he snatched a glass from her hand.
"I mean, you and your meat-hooks pawing at the poor boy during one of your 'dates'," Clint continued, pulling Steve from his reverie. He paused to pick at his teeth with the prongs of his fork. "But thems the brakes for a green card and a spot on The Avengers... Right, cradle-robber?" He ran his tongue over his teeth, smiling like a cat with a plateful of caviar.
Steve went crimson from collar to crown. A low-pitched whine filled the kitchenette as he bent his spoon handle in his trembling fist.
"See?!" the marksman crowed as the Twins stopped and turned to look at the fuss going on behind them. "God help you, Petey!"
Pietro stopped scrubbing the frying pan to glare at Clint.
"Shut up, you babbling donkey," he said in his native tongue - like edge of an axe draped in fine silk. His twin hid her tittering behind her hand as Clint wrinkled his brow.
"What foolishness are you going on about now, Barton?" Wanda snapped, shaking a foamy dishrag in his direction. The archer openly admired their curves, his eyes following them up to her frowning face.
"Nothing, Beautiful," he purred, wiping away a crumb from the corner of his leering mouth. "What are you doing later on? You wanna go to the pictures with your favorite teammate?"
"Oh, but my brother and Steve are going out on a date today," replied the witch, her curls bouncing as she shook her head. "And Jean is coming over. So, why don't you run off and polish your arrowhead somewhere else."
Pietro let out a cackle. Steve snorted.
"Your loss!" Clint seethed, rising from his seat. "Plenty o' fish in this city..."
"Might I suggest searching the bottom of the East River then," their leader mumbled as the archer rose from his seat.
"Whatever, Lenny," he replied, shunting himself between the twins to deposit his dishes into the sink. His hand shot out, catching the corner of Pietro's collar. He gave it a tug, revealing a small red blotch just peaking over the top. "Just don't hug your rabbit too hard." He winked at Steve and walked out.
"What was that about?" Wanda muttered to herself as she set a mug to dry on the rack.
"I don't know, sister," her twin mumbled in reply.
Steve said nothing. He had suddenly lost his appetite.
~~~
Steve rested his chin on his hand as a gelatinous green blob rolled over an unfortunate girl in a poodle skirt before similarly devouring her beefy boyfriend. He look over at Pietro who watched raptly, slowly snapping up popcorn between gasps. Steve smiled.
"We don't have such things in Transia," the boy pleaded in his memory. "And we barely had money for movies, let alone a car..."
He relented, citing that he had also missed out the trend during his years living in an iceberg. So, they drove an hour out into Suffolk County for a creature double-feature.
A soft groan caught his ear - muted but carnal. Steve glanced at the car next to them and found its occupants - a man and a woman - tangled in a passionate embrace. The woman's hand slipped beneath the man's waistband, eliciting a sharp groan. Steve looked away as his groin stirred, heat pin-pricking his ears.
He reached for some popcorn and when their hands touched. Pietro simpered shyly.
"Such a silly concept, this movie..." the speedster murmured, brushing a silvered hair behind his ear. "W-who on Earth would be afraid of a slow-moving gelatin mold...?" Steve chuckled and picked up a kernel, pressing it against Pietro's lips. The boy quickly snapped it up just Steve looped an arm around his slender shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, relishing the taste of salt and butter. He broke free, moving to nip at Pietro's jawline. As he followed the long column of the boy's neck, he caught sight of a jarring, purple bruise just beneath the boy's collar. Steve pulled away.
"W-what's wrong?" the boy stammered, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Did I do something...?"
Steve glanced back at the neighboring car. Its windows completely fogged as it gently swayed back and forth on its wheels. He coughed in his fist, shifting in his seat as he slipped his jacket over his lap.
"I-it's just," he started shakily, nodding toward Pietro's throat. "I-I just didn't realize that... that was still there. On your neck..."
"The hockey mark you gave me...?" the boy asked, his slender fingers brushed against the mark. "It's persistent."
"Yeah, I can see that," Steve murmured. "And it's -uh- hickey, darling..."
"Well, what is the problem then?"
"I mean, that should have gone away by now..."
"But you only just gave it to me just this morning..." Pietro purred, his fingers seeking Steve's hand. "And in the shower no less..." They slipped over his fists planted firm in his lap, running along the knuckles before resting on his wrist. Steve yelped and wrenched them away, causing the boy to fall back against the car door. He gasped as the back of his head hit the window. The glass splintered; popcorn spilled everywhere.
"Oh, God!" gasped Steve, reaching for the boy. Pietro swatted his hands away.
"I don't know what's wrong with you, Steve!" snapped the speedster, crushing kernels underfoot as he rubbed his crown. "But take me home right now, if you are going to be like this!"
"B-B-but-"
"I want to go home," he hissed, shoving the popcorn container roughly into Steve's lap, causing him to wince. "Now!"
Steve cast a forlorn look at the couple next to them - their car teetering wildly on its frame.
He sighed as he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the drive-in as the blob rolled another shrieking victim.
~~~
The drive home was filled with pointed silence. Pietro contented himself with glaring out at the dark tree rolling by, his exaggerated frown reflected in the passenger's window. Steve pulled up to the garage and put the car in park.
"W-we're home," he announced quietly to his still brooding beau, his hand rested on the door's handle when he realized his partner had not moved. "Um, I said w-."
"I know," the boy replied, his arms crossed and his eyes still staring straight ahead. "But I want to know why you behaved like you did and you will tell me, Steve Rogers."
Steve winced at the sound of his name pronounced with such venom. His hand fell away from the handle, as he twisted his fingers in his lap. He could feel Pietro's glare burning a hole in the side of his head as he tried to find the words. Clint's smug simpering entered his mind. Steve growled, grinding his teeth as the archer's words echoed in his mind.
Pietro's hand stilled his - his slight fingers giving them a reassuring squeeze. Steve sighed, looking into the boy's bright eyes that held concern, hurt - not anger.
"I..." he muttered. "...I hurt you."
The speedster furrowed his brow.
"Where? When?"
Steven shrugged. He nodded at the mark decorating his lover's throat while he tapped on his own neck. Pietro sighed and flopped back into his seat.
"All this fuss over a love-bite?"
"Well-"
Pietro pressed the tips of his fingers against Steve's lips. He sighed, letting them fall away from his lover's mouth. Pietro sighed and sank back into the passengers seat. Steve watched him twist his fingers in his lap.
"Do you think I am made of glass?"
"N-no. I-" Steve stammered.
"Do you 'take it easy' on me during training?!" snapped the boy, cutting him off.
"N-no."
"Do you worry about my 'delicate, fragile' body when The Hulk tossed me clear across the East River? Or when the Wrecking Crew dropped a building on me? Or when Gravitron tried to rip me apart molecule by molecule?"
"Yes!" Steve shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet of the driveway. "Yes, I do care when people try to hurt or kill you, Pietro!"
The speedster blinked owlish at his outburst before shaking his silver head.
"And you think if you love me roughly, the result will be the same?" he asked, laughter underlining his voice. "Or are you saying that I don't have a say in what I allow you do to me?"
Steve felt heat rising on his cheeks.
"I... I am sorry."
Pietro chuckled.
"I don't need you to protect me all of the time, Captain America. And besides," he purred as he reached over and took hold of Steve's shirt. He felt a rush of wind and he found himself on his back. "...I am much stronger than you."
Steve recognized the tile pattern on the ceiling just behind Pietro's seductive simper. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a poster of himself in its lithographic glory - beaming, spangled shield held, gloved finger pointing enthusiastic at unseen viewer: "Captain American Says: Be A Hero! Join The US Army!"
Pietro pulled him from his reveries as his nimble fingers undid his belt before Steve could blink. Pietro made short work of his pants, his tie, his dress shirt - each and every article of clothing found its way to the recliner by his bed. Steve was left in his y-fronts - something else that Clint teased him mercilessly for - as his body bounced on his bed.
"I confess I had an ulterior motive for the drive-in tonight..." the boy purred, pulling his own shirt over head and throwing it aside. Steve swallowed thickly, watching the moonlight that dance along his lover's ribs and the planes of his wiry frame.
"Obviously," he muttered. A familiar ache filling Steve's groin as he watching Pietro slide his pants down off of his slender legs. He hooked his thumbs underneath the band of his briefs, giving them a suggesting snap before climbing onto the bed.
"You ruined our date because you think I am delicate," said Pietro as he crawled towards him - languid, predatory. The boy straddled his lap. "So, you will make it up to me, yes?"
Steve said nothing, his eyes fluttering closed as Pietro traced the outline of his chest, drawing lazy circles around his nipples. He hissed the boy gently caught them between the tips of his fingers.
"Dearest," the boy cooed. "I want you to be rough with me..."
"W-what do you mean?"
Pietro did not answer. The speedster smiled, tugging on Steve's nipples, squeezing hard. The man gasped, arching his back to alleviate the pain but Pietro pulled harder. The boy laughed and released him. Steve fell back against the bed. Pietro leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, suckling at the abused flesh. The speedster bit down, pinching Steve between his teeth, eliciting a yelp from his lover.
"Message received!" he cried. "Enough!" The boy's pulled away with an audible pop, leaving his teeth marks in an angry, red ring around his nipples.
"We can play a game, if you like?" Pietro purred. "I could be that hardheaded, insufferable fool, Clint... What do you say, grandpa? Or do you think I'll break your hip-AH!"
His body moved on instinct as Pietro's impression of Clint's overly self-satisfied drawl rang in his ears. Steve lunged, catching the boy by his throat. The speedster made a strangled noise as he squeezed, his thumbs digging into his windpipe. Fear gave way to pleasure as Pietro gasp and smiled, his hooded eyes filled with lasciviousness.
"H-harder..." he ordered, his bright eyes narrowing.
Steve's grip faltered for a moment, brushing against the bruising along the column of Pietro's throat.
"I-"
"What's wrong old man?" the boy mocked him, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes as he mocked him. "Having trouble taking command in your advanced age?"
"Fine, then," he said, grabbing Pietro by the waste and rolling over. He pinned the speedster beneath him, catching a wiry wrist in each hand. "B-but, if you don't like it, just say 'stop,' alright?"
Pietro nodded and pressed a quick kiss against his lips.
"I trust you."
His words gave Steve pause. He parted to lips to speak and shut them almost immediately. The soft, loving look that filled the speedster's eyes held the same intensity they had on the battlefield. Steve's heart thrummed wildly. In love and war, Pietro gave himself willingly.
"Having a senior moment?" the boy teased, pulling him from his reverie. "Or are you having a hard time just getting it up...?"
"Then, get on your knees on the floor, back to the bed, solider," Steve commanded, his mask slipping firmly into place. "I've got something for that smart mouth..."
~~~
"Open up."
Pietro glared up at him, his eyes narrowed with contempt as Steve pressed his erection against his lips. The speedster screwed them together - a poor impression of defiance that came off like a petulant pout. The man sucked his teeth and grabbed Pietro's chin in his hand. He squeeze his jaw, forcing the boy to open his mouth.
"I said, 'Open. Up."
He crowded the speedster's head against the edge of the bed and slipped inside. Pietro's fingers dug into his hips; gurgling as he took Steve into his throat. Drool spilled from the corners of his swollen lips, dripping from his chin onto his legs. He thrust deep, slow until the speedster's nose was pressed flat against his pelvis.
Pietro sputtered as Steve's curls brushed against his cheeks. His own groin twitched, filling with molten heat. His lover threaded his fingers in the hair at his nape, holding his head still as he thrust into his throat.
"Good boy," he cooed as he slid out, Pietro's teeth grazing him slightly. The boy nipped his foreskin, pinching it between his canines. Steve yelped. He yanked a handful of silver hair until the boy let go. A small droplets of blood welled up in the bite mark. "You little punk...!"
Pietro spat at his feet.
"Is t-that the best you've got, old man?!" the speedster sneered, spittle hanging from his swollen lips. "So much for fixing my 'smart mouth!'"
"Then, we'll just have to repeat the lesson..." Steve murmured as he slid back inside. He ignored Pietro's retching, the hiss of pained breath streaming from his flared nostrils.
God.
Steve had never allowed himself to be so depraved. It took so much not to lose himself in the erotic heat of Pietro's mouth, to fall into the hypnotic, crude rhythm that echoed in the bedroom.
His beau began to struggle, straining against Steve's white knuckled grip. He raked his nails down the length of his lover's thighs. Steve stepped back and the speedster feel forward onto his hands. The boy's cheeks were scarlet as he gasped for air; tears rimming his bright eyes.
"I thought this is what you wanted!" Steve hissed, lightly touching angry, red scratches on his legs. His hand came way with some blood.
The speedster smirked, wiping his mouth on the back his hand.
"Fuck you."
Steve's erection twitched as fire coursed through him.
"That's the idea," he growled in reply. He shoved two fingers into Pietro's still-panting mouth and hooked it behind his cheek. He pulled it from his mouth with an audible pop before hoisting the speedster by the arm and tossed him face first onto the bed. Steve kicked his legs apart and palmed taught globe, yanking it roughly aside. His finger lightly traced the puckered ring of flesh, the soft wrinkles encircling it.
"Let's see how many you can take..."
Pietro gasped as Steve pushed his another inside -knuckle-by-knuckle.
"So greedy..." he murmured as he quickly inserted in another. He scissored them against the tightness as Pietro began to fidget. He made a strangled noise as his legs trembled slightly as he felt Steve filling him, stretching him to his limit.
"B-Bastard..." he seethed, biting down on his lip. His love said nothing, sliding in a fourth digit. Pietro gasped as his lover's hand slid deeper and deeper, pleasure ripping across his lover's pale flesh with each agonizing inch.
"I-I can stop-"
"P-pathetic..." Pietro chided. He pushed back Steve's fingers, impaling himself until the man's thumb rested firmly on his cleft. "Is this the best you can do?"
~~~
Clint fumbled for his keys as he trudged up the stairs to the mansion's door. He caught the locked on the fourth try, turned it, and stumbled in inside.
An entire night had gone to waste. Clint traveled the avenue's bar looking for companionship but only found a recipe for a hangover at the bottom of a handle of bourbon. He sank tot he floor and struggled with his boots, tossing them across the hall.
The kitchen called to him and so he answered. Clint emptied a carton of ice cream into a mixing bowl and, using a soup ladle, attempted to shovel it into his mouth. He staggered back into the main foyer and attempted the stairs, giving up at the fourth, and deciding to sit them one-by-one until he reached the top. As he passed Wanda's room on the way to his own, a soft groan caught his ears. Clint immediately back-peddled and pressed the side of his face against her door.
"J-Jean..."
"Woah," he said to himself before scooping more ice cream into his maw. A red light flashed from underneath the door and it jumped hitting him hard against the temple. Clint staggered back, swearing loudly.
"Go to bed, pervert!" he heard Wanda shout. He kicked at the door and stomped off.
"Fine!" he hollered back. "I'll just go where I am wanted then!"
"Do they admit grown men into dog pounds though?" Jean's lilting query floated through the door as he stumbled away.
~~~
The bed shook violently on its frame as Steve used full weight to press Pietro against flat against the bed as he drove himself into his pliant body. His fingers into the boy's hips as he buried himself to the hilt, angry welts blossoming under his grip. The speedster cried out, fingers twisting in Steve's golden locks.
"G-god!" the speedster stammered, locking his feet behind his lover's back. He pulled him in closer; his face flushed and his teeth clenched tightly against the punishing, animalistic rhythm.
Steve nipped at the side of his throat, taking Pietro's erection into his hand. A few strokes and the boy wet his hand with a soft cry; warmth oozing over his fingers as the speedster came. Steve soon followed, spilling himself inside of the speedster.
AS he finished, Steve went slack for a moment, collapsing onto Pietro - their bodies an inter-tangled pile of post-coital passion.
"Are you all right?" he muttered, before placing a soft kiss against the boy's shoulder before pulling out and rolling off of him.
"That was great..." Pietro panted as he turned over to hold wrap his arms around Steve's neck. He pressed his cheek against his chest, listening to his lover's still thrumming heart. Steve returned the embrace, his cheeks burning enough to glow in the dark of the bedroom.
"You have problems," he muttered, idly rubbing against the welts and cuts on his legs. "I... I want us to talk to Dr. Samson about this..."
"About what?" the boy returned with a yawn.
"About this new fixation with pain and sex..."
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it," the speedster purred. "Next time, I think we should use these clamps I found onli-"
"Is everyone getting some but me?" came a bored drawl from the bedroom door, followed by several loud slurps.
"Barton, get out!" Steve shouted as he pulled the duvet over Pietro and himself. "Get out right now!"
The archer swayed on his feet.
"All right," he replied, ice cream falling from the ladle as he shook it at them. "But you need to open a window in here..."
"Get out!" the men screamed in unison.
Clint cast them a dejected look as he slurped now-melted ice cream from the mixing bowl before walking through the door.
"Whatever."