Alrighty~! This little piece of shameless smut is brought to you by a fabulous drawing by LadyNorthstar on deviantArt.

ladynorthstar. deviantart. com /#/ d4z4ye9

(Just remove the spaces.)

I was inspired, asked permission to write a ficlet and away I went. This is the end result. I hope you like it. :3

To Serve the King

"Oh Clinton.."

The smooth, softly accented voice breaks through his silent reverie. He blinks once and slowly turns his head just slightly toward the source of the voice. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware that he should be unnerved at how easily Loki was able to sneak up on him, but he can't focus on the thought enough for it to bother him.

"Would you join me? I'd like to have a word with you, little hawk." The words come out with a soft smirk. Loki watches long enough to see the man rise and begin to descend from his isolated perch. He turns on his heel and moves down a hallway to a dark room containing a stone throne upon a platform surrounded by long stone steps. He can hear the near silent steps of the human trailing behind him. Content with the agent's obedience, he seats himself in his throne, regal and poised, his sceptre at his side.

Clint stops two steps down from Loki, quietly regarding him with faintly glowing blue eyes. The god crooks a finger at him, beckoning him forward. His head tilts ever so slightly but his feet carry him forward without hesitation. When he stops again, he's toe-to-toe with his king.

"So, my little hawk. What have you to tell me about your friends? You're quite close to the little red-haired one are you not?"

"Nat?" He blinks, a fleeting moment of clarity flashing through his mind. "Natasha Romanoff?" The haze settles back in, thicker than before, just as quickly as it had cleared.

A soft encouragement, "Yes," fills his ears as a lone hand reaches toward him. "Come, my dear."

Without a single thought, he fluidly slides forward to kneel over the god's lap. A thin hand touches his waist, glides up to cup the side of his neck. It's almost as if his mind grays out. He's aware of his mouth moving, steadily spilling secret after secret, sharing things he'd sworn would never pass his lips. The only thing to show for his distress is a faintly furrowed brow. Two hands are upon him now, caressing his body, bringing about a faint flush over his skin. His stomach rolls and twists tightly as he mindlessly betrays his best friend of every diminutive detail she had confided in him. He'd be physically ill if he had half a mind to be.

He's vaguely aware of his pants being undone and pushed down. Oh – he hadn't noticed that Loki's attention left him half hard. He pauses in his verbal tirade for a beat, a flash of shock and shame burning through him before the fog swallows it whole as cool fingers stroke between his butt cheeks. It's an unfamiliar sensation but is profoundly mesmerizing.

Or perhaps it was just the mind control thing. He didn't have the facilities to tell.

God, his mouth is still moving. He knows a full lifetime of tales after all. A finger plays at his hole, circling before pressing in. His words finally stop and his body works on impulse to expel the intrusion.

"Sh, shhh.. relax little hawk," Loki croons sweetly, his unoccupied hand stroking soothing patterns along the exposed skin of his hip.

Clint twitches faintly but has no way to refuse; no hope to avoid anything wanted of him. His body obeys and allows the digit to slip in and out with ease. A second finger joins the first and it's as though the message to resist is lost between a small corner of his mind and the control he held over his body–except the control was really Loki's, there was no denying that. Against every fiber of his being, his cock twitches and continues to gorge with blood. He's not sure if it's the humiliation bubbling beneath the surface or his traitorous arousal fueling the flush warming his body.

His eyes narrow when Loki's fingers stop fucking him and he's pushed to his feet.

"Remove your boots."

He readily complies, tossing them aside.

"Good boy.. now kneel."

His body lowers itself steadily, face devoid of emotion. He watches passively as Loki casually opens his trousers, letting his hips tilt into a slight slouch as he pulls himself free.

When he speaks again, it's in a slightly husky tone, "Lick me."

Clint's tongue traces his own lips as he shuffles forward, his hands landing on Loki's thighs. Even through the miasma in his mind, he studies the organ protruding before him; it's quite long with a decent girth, a flared, pink head and delicately bulging veins. His mouth opens, thankfully not to spill more sworn secrets; however, his tiny glimmer of consciousness shudders at the task set before him. He gives a broad swipe of his tongue then another, root to tip. A surprisingly gentle hand fingers through his soft blonde hair, guiding his mouth down. He obliges the silent direction and closes his lips over firm flesh, playing his tongue over the silky smooth skin, hollowing his cheeks and slowly bobbing his head. The cool hand curls around the base of his skull and begins to push and pull, setting the pace and depth. Clint's nose brushes the patch of soft black curls and he gags lightly as his throat is filled with warm, throbbing flesh.

By the time Loki releases him, he has spit dripping down his chin, swollen lips and a pretty red face. He stands at his king's direction his pants falling. He pulls his right leg free before he is guided back into the god's lap, black pants hanging hooked on his left knee. Loki slouches further and places a hand on Clint's hip. He holds himself steady, lines up with the human's waiting entrance and physically drags the man down on to his erection.

Clint's legs quake and give out, leaving him straddling Loki and further impaling himself. A low groan tears past his vocal cords and the god sighs blissfully. He caresses Clint's face, murmuring, "Little hawk.. you're going to fuck yourself on my cock. Until I come." His free hand suddenly has the sceptre in it and he's bracing it around behind Clint's lower back. Without a word, he shifts to gain leverage and begins to lift off and plunge back down.

Sweat begins to form over his entire body and his legs quiver with the repetitive motion. Soft moans bring his gaze to the man beneath him. He is lounging, his right hand curled into a fist and supporting his jaw while the other maintains its grip on his staff. A slight smile graces the god's features and his eyes are closed. "Such a good boy," he gasps softly.

The irritation within him builds and he's screaming in his mind, struggling to show even the slightest sign of resistance, of disapproval. He twists his torso, one hand reaching for balance, landing on Loki's shoulder, the other grasping the sceptre digging into his back. Determined to be done, Clint quickens his pace, his breath coming in little huffs with the exertion, toes curling. The slight change in position has Loki's dick brushing his prostate with each down stroke and he's once again brought to the realization that he is painfully aroused. His cock is an angry purple and leaking all over his king's fine clothing–a part of him is quite pleased by this.

Loki finally opens his eyes, moves his hand to clutch at Barton's hip and begins to thrust up in earnest. "Filthy boy," he grunts, the green in his eyes nearly swallowed up by his pupils. His body trembles, tenses and a wet warmth fills Clint. He's still bouncing up and down, grinding against the god's narrow hips as his balls tighten. A high keening sound stutters from his throat and he comes all over Loki's torso and face.

They slump down together, Loki cradling his latest toy against him, a ghost of a grin pulling at his lips as he practically purrs against the human's ear, "You serve your king well."

In response to any disgruntled readers (such as my anon reviewer): I posted a dub-con warning in the summary, so you had fair warning and did not need to read it. If you don't like it and proceed to read anyway, than that is your own fault. Any further negative reviews regarding the content will be ignored or, in extreme cases, removed.