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Bruce had a second of warning, just catching the gleeful expression on Tony’s face as he turned, before Tony’s hand sank into his hair and dragged him to his knees. His sharp noise of surprise escaped as a grunt when Tony hit him. The open-handed slap was rough, hot, perfect. By the time Tony hit him three more times, Bruce’s breath was coming in soft pants and his eyes wanted to flutter closed.
Dimly, he was aware of the other Avengers scattered around the common room. They’d been called out, only to spend a long, hot afternoon waiting for a villain that never showed.
"Where are you, Bruce?”
"Yellow, Tony." Red was rage, blue was peace. Tony always took him down fast.
Tony hummed, adjusted his hold on Bruce’s hair. Bruce prepared to move, to follow as Tony shifted back, only to receive one more slap. Only then did Tony move for the couch, dragging Bruce by the hair. Bruce shuffled forward on his knees.
They’d talked about it. About Bruce’s love-hate relationship with touch, about his fears in letting the other Avengers come too close, about his inability to get himself there on his own. Bruce knew, intellectually, that they were all in this together. He knew there was a fair amount of sex, of touch, and sometimes of other things, happening. He could see it, and he wanted it. He wanted in.
Bruce had lost too much, too often. Every time he saw the others, draped over each other at movie nights or comforting each other after battle, he felt like he was drowning a little more. He’d move toward them, and then choke on the panic, rising in a sick, cold wave. Until Tony.
"Are you thinking, Bruce?”
Bruce colored. "Sorry, Tony."Tony just arched an eyebrow. Bruce felt himself flush harder. Rules. There were rules for this; he wasn’t supposed to guess what Tony wanted. "Yes, Tony.”
Tony flexed the hand in his hair. "You’re a genius, Bruce. There’s nothing wrong with thinking. If I don’t want you to think, I’ll stop you.”
Bruce felt his shoulders relax. Tony eyed him, then spun him so his back was to the couch. "Heels.”
Bruce got his legs under him and sat down. Tony straddled him, holding his body up, and pressed into Bruce, forcing his head all the way back before beginning a brutal series of kisses. Bruce tried to kiss back for a moment. Then Tony simply overwhelmed him, made it clear with tongue and teeth that he wanted nothing from Bruce. Tony bit his bottom lip, hard enough to sting. Bruce sucked in air, feeling as though he were drowning. His head swam and his hands came up to clutch instinctively at Tony. A hot wave of tension swept through his body and left calm in its wake.
"There."Tony pulled back a little. "Where are you, Bruce?”
Bruce sighed out a long breath. "Green."His head lolled back against the couch’s seat. Tony rumbled his approval, hands rubbing firmly over Bruce’s chest and arms. He leaned forward to nip affectionately at Bruce’s lip.
"Good boy.”
Someone choked off a moan. Bruce blinked lazily. Tony chuckled. "You look good, Bruce."Bruce stayed still and relaxed as Tony worked the buttons of his shirt open. The same voice from before made a sound when Bruce’s collar came into view. Eventually, Tony tugged him forward to remove his shirt completely. Bruce wished he could watch Tony removing his own shirt, but Tony hadn’t moved his head. Instead, he watched the ceiling, light reflecting in beautiful patterns that seemed random, shadows stretching…
Tony hooked two fingers into his collar and pulled. "Up."
Bruce stood, a faint shiver of embarrassment at his obvious erection winding through him.
"Exquisite."That was Thor. "I had wondered.”
Tony kept his hand on Bruce’s collar and leaned against his back. "Go on,"he said, "take a look at them.”
Bruce swallowed. Hesitantly, he raised his eyes. Thor had seated himself on the other couch and was staring openly, looking every bit as delighted and attentive as the time Tony had introduced him to the microwave. Natasha, face neutral, was tucked close to him, not quite touching. Steve was in the chair nearest the couch, face flushed and eager. He was the only one to have seen them before, and he was practically bouncing with excitement at the repeat performance.
Clint was still on his feet, hand clenched on the back of the recliner. His lips were parted. There was no mistaking the lust flushing his face and dilating his eyes. Bruce shivered and dropped his eyes again.
"Good?"Tony’s murmur was quiet enough that probably no one but Steve would hear. Bruce nodded. "Over.”
Bruce bent loose-limbed over the side of the couch. His chest came to rest against the cushions, his dick pushed into the arm and ass in the air. Tony reached around him to press his chest up. Bruce arched willingly and was repaid with a sharp bite of metal to his nipple, quickly matched on the other side.
Clint choked. "You took nipple clamps to a battle?”
Tony laughed. "Are you kidding me? I’ve been carrying these around since Bruce agreed to this.”
Bruce moaned, faint and jerky. That was ten days ago. Tony’d been to SI meetings, three of them, down in his lab, to a battle, a charity gala, to a meeting on the Helicarrier with Fury, for god’s sake. Heat washed over his face and down his back, deepening the hazy buzz in his head. He could feel his breath coming fast again. Tony casually kicked his legs wider and leaned over Bruce’s back, cock pressed into the crease of Bruce’s slacks. Tony tugged at the clamp. Bruce grunted.
"Where are you, Bruce?”
"Blue."He could hear, distantly, the way his voice slurred when he was down this deep. He sounds drunk or stoned. Tony straightened slowly, tracing a finger down the length of Bruce’s spine. Bruce felt his skin tighten, pimpling in anticipation. He wanted it. Wanted what came next, with a blind hunger. And Tony gave it to him.
He cried out at the first hit. Tony didn’t ease him in. When they did this, it wasn’t playful, and there was no warm up. It was hard, and it kept being hard. It was the brilliant edge, it was pain that tasted like metal, it was all the muscles in Tony’s arms bunching, swinging full force. (Bruce knew, because sometimes Tony let him watch in the mirror.)
Tony’s hand was steady as a drumbeat. He forced sound after sound from Bruce until he couldn’t manage anything but wet gasps, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Being able to do this, post-Hulk, was a gift. He’d confessed that to Tony, once, and Tony had said, Being able to give this to me is a gift for me, too. It had sounded a lot like I love you.
"Close your eyes,"Tony said.
Bruce let his eyes fall shut, floating. Time slipped by. Bursts of light occasionally exploded on the backs of his eyelids. Bruce smiled, loose and empty. Eventually, he became aware that Tony had stopped.
"Bruce?”
"Black.”
Tony stroked over his ass. "Crawl up the couch until you’re all the way on it. You don’t have to open your eyes.”
It sounded like a monumental task. Bruce was fine where he was. But Tony wouldn’t tell him to do it unless he could, unless it would be better for him. He kept his eyes closed as he dragged himself forward. His foot caught on the arm of the couch, and then he was over. A second later, Tony climbed in behind him. Tony’s couches were all ridiculously huge and plush. They fit side by side easily.
Bruce sighed in pleasure as Tony pulled him close. The calluses on his hands were soothing as they made long circles over his back, drifting down to gently pat his ass. He took the clamps off, easing Bruce through it. Tony nuzzled his cheek and neck until he turned into it.
"So beautiful, Bruce,"he said, low and intimate. "Hey guys,"he called softly, "you can come here now.”
He wasn’t expecting Natasha's, "Bruce? Is that alright?”
He turned his head blurrily toward her and slitted his eyes open. "M’kay.”
Apparently, that was enough. In moments, Steve was perched precariously by his thigh, holding onto his hand. Bruce squeezed gently. Bruce let his eyes shut again. Hands in his hair, on his back. Someone taking off his shoes at Tony’s request, peeling his socks off and putting a firm hand on his foot. It all felt wonderful.
Bruce opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but he felt a little more present now. Thor was on the floor. Clint had his feet. He tilted his head a bit. Yes, those were Natasha’s deadly hands in his hair.
"Hey,"Tony said. "Back with us?"Bruce nodded. Clint squeezed his foot, like some sort of greeting, and began to gently massage. Bruce tried not to wriggle. Tony cocked his head. "Alright."He bent to look up at Natasha. "How are you doing?”
Bruce watched Tony’s throat, blinking rapidly. The foot massage sent signals that bypassed his brain. He didn’t feel capable of focusing too hard. He listened halfheartedly as Tony maneuvered Thor and Natasha out of the room. Tony leaned up and gave Steve a quick kiss. "Scram,"he said, all affection. "I’ll see you later."Steve laughed and left.
Clint paused. "Should I-?”
Tony chuckled. "No, you keep doing what you’re doing.”
Now that he had less of an audience, Bruce shook and moaned.
"Fuck."Clint froze, then dug his thumbs in.
Bruce thrust against the cushion. "Fuck.”
Tony bit softly at his ear. "You wanna turn over, babe?”
Bruce did. Clint stared. If Bruce had thought he looked good before, it was nothing to now. He looked wrecked with lust, pupils completely blown. A heavy erection distorted the line of his pants and a faint sheen of sweat graced his skin. Bruce wanted to bite into those biceps. Clint licked his lips.
"You know,"Tony said, an amused lilt to his voice, "if you keep doing that, we might think you want to suck Bruce’s cock.”
Clint didn’t waste time. "Can I suck your cock, Bruce?”
Bruce whined. "Yes."All the blacked-out pleasure from Tony swarmed in his head. He felt thick, a dark part of his brain pulsing in time with his cock. Clint's eyes were fixed on him, lips parted on a hungry breath.
"Christ, Stark, tell me you have condoms here."
Behind him, Tony's weight shifted away. He saw a condom pass from Tony to Clint.
"Clothes."
Clint paused, poised to tear the condom open.
"Clothes," Tony repeated, impatient. "Get naked, Barton. You wouldn't want to deprive poor Bruce of your delicious body, would you?"
Clint flicked a glance at him, but whatever it was he saw in Bruce's face decided him. Boots hit the floor, the tac suit following. Clint undressed with the same speed he used dressing when an assemble call came in. Taking in the red flush of his torso and the heavy weight of his cock, Bruce appreciated that. Tony made an approving noise, too.
As Clint unwrapped the condom, Tony rearranged them, propping himself on some pillows and pulling Bruce into the cradle of his thighs. Tony was hard, the thin gold under suit he wore to battle doing nothing to conceal that. Clint crawled onto the couch, balancing between their legs.
"Your furniture is ridiculous," Clint said. And then he rolled the condom down Bruce's cock and followed it with his mouth.
"I…I cannot even respond to that,"Tony said. "Jesus. Jesus fuck, Barton, that is some seriously filthy cock-sucking you have going there. Wow."
Bruce' mouth worked wordlessly. The sweet, hot pressure felt like starbursts against the back of his eyes. His thighs flexed in time with Clint's movements, ears burning with the rush of blood. He twisted his hands into the couch, gripping for dear life. Pants and moans spilled out of him, pleading noises, but he kept his hips still.
"Gorgeous like this, isn't he? He can't keep anything back right now. Bet he won't even come unless we say."
Clint moaned around his cock.
"Tell us when you're close, Bruce. I want Clint to get rid of the condom and make you come all over yourself."
Bruce sucked in a breath and choked out, "Close," lost in a haze of want and shame. Tears blurred in his eyes as Clint followed Tony's order, the loss of his mouth changing to tight, sharp jerks.
"Gonna use you after this, all dirty with your come. Go on, Bruce. Make a mess for us."
Bruce went silent, arching at last, coming in a thick spurt over his belly. His vision hazed over. Before it cleared, Tony pushed insistently at his hips. Bruce struggled, managing to make his thighs work enough to brace up for a moment. Tony squirmed his pants down to his thighs and pulled Bruce back down. He grunted in Bruce's ear, a satisfied sound as he slid down the crease of Bruce's ass.
"Get up here, Barton. Bruce made a nice, slick place for you rut."Bruce made a sound like his air had been punched out.
Clint scrambled up, arms braced on either side of them. His cock pulsed heavily where it lay against Bruce's belly.
Tony made a small, annoyed sound and reached around to grab Clint's hip. "Fucking move, Barton."Clint did, jerking his hips rhythmically. The air thickened with gasps and bitten off moans. Bruce's head swirled. He wished desperately that he could get hard again. His whole body felt pierced through with desire as Tony and Clint used him as mindlessly as if he were a sex toy, there only to make a good spot to put their cocks. Clint's eyes focused on him, their intensity swallowing Bruce up.
"Gonna eyefuck him all night, Legolas, or are you planning on kissing?"As rough as Tony's voice was, it sounded more aroused than mocking.
Clint fell forward, lips catching on Bruce's. The kiss was hard and hungry. Bruce lifted his hands instinctively, grabbing Clint's powerful biceps. He dug in with his nails and the kiss went messy as Clint came. Behind him, Tony groaned and smothered it in a vicious bite to Bruce's shoulder as he followed suit, slicking Bruce's ass.
Above him, Clint trembled and fell to the side. Bruce whined at the loss. Tony chuckled and tipped him toward Clint.
"Keep him warm for me."Clint closed an exhausted arm over Bruce's hip and tugged him close. Sighing, Bruce went. Tony disappeared into the kitchen. He re-emerged with a wet washcloth and sat on the edge of the couch. His hip pressed against Bruce's back as he cleaned them up. Clint startled a little at the intimate touch, allowing it after a second. Tony's hand stroked through his hair. Bruce yawned and stretched.
"Good?"
"Mmm."Bruce blinked, feeling more present. "Yes. Good.”
Clint stifled a laugh. "Good to know the two of you don't always speak in polysyllabic science.”
Bruce quirked a smile at him. Clint ran a hand up his back and joined Tony in petting his hair. Bruce arched, eyes slitting. This time, Clint didn't bother biting back his laugh.
"You, Dr. Banner, are secretly a giant cat once you let people touch.”
"He really is.”
Bruce felt he should protest being talked about like he wasn't here, but his mind was getting fuzzy. Not subspace this time, just good old fashioned tiredness.
He blinked his eyes open to look at Clint. "Good?”
Clint grinned. "Fucking spectacular.”
Well, that was taken care of. "Good.”
"Up, Bruce."
"Toonnnyyy.”
"Seriously, Bruce, get up. We're in the lounge, and I really don't think your ready to wake up buck naked to the team watching a movie.”
Sulkily, Bruce levered himself up. Clint got up, too, and sorted out clothes. His hands were gentle as he dressed Bruce, which was nice.
"Come on, Clint. You can come tuck him in with me.”
Clint rolled his eyes at Tony. He still settled a warm hand in the curve of Bruce's back, though, so that was fine. It was good, soothing, even though it wasn't sex or kink anymore. Bruce perked up. That probably meant he could let Clint touch him more, now.
One Avenger down, three to go.