Loki's fingers were long and slim, digging into Clint's shoulder, anchored into the bruises already there, a perfect pattern of the pressure forcing him downward. The metal chaffed Clint's wrists as he rattled the handcuffs, trying to stay still and avoid the punishment that would come no matter what he did. He'd feel pain because Loki liked it; at times it seemed like he was driven to make Clint beg. But Clint made the effort anyway, balancing his ass on his heels, knees bent, hands crossed in the small of his back, and fingers curled around the metal bar behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to struggle, trying to think and plan instead.
"You're mine, you know?" Loki always asked, demanding that Clint tell him over and over again who owned him, controlled him, as if Loki was afraid that he would answer differently one time, slip the bindings that held him and leave the Asgardian with no one to remind him of his own worth. Standing over him, Loki freed himself from his pants, gently stroking the engorged head as he gazed at the kneeling man before him, at Clint's body, muscles quaking with effort. Loki had never let Clint touch him, had never kissed him; Clint seemed to serve only to satisfy a need, not a person but a collection of parts to be fucked. "Tell me you are mine."
"I am yours," Clint murmured. He'd tried to not reply, biting his tongue until it bled, but still he was compelled to say it each time. Knowing what was next, he braced, taking a deep breath to prepare his aching body; Loki's hands curved around his neck, caressing the bruises already there, tilting until Clint was forced to look into those bluest of blue eyes brimming with self-loathing and unfulfilled needs. Damn it all, that was the worst of it, when Clint could see the demons that drove the bastard, the reasons Loki was driven to make others love him this way. Hate would be easier, would let him shut down, to disconnect body from mind. He could justify it as purely flesh responding to Loki's spell of devotion, not any sort of sympathy or strange, twisted attraction. But sometimes, when he saw the pain, it was impossible for Clint to not have some insight into the wounded man.
Something flickered in Loki's eyes as he stared into Clint's blue-green ones, a shadow of doubt or a lingering shade of things past. Then he was pushing his cock into Clint's mouth, angry and harsh, all the way to the back of his throat, forcing him to gag and jerk away. Hands tightened, constricting his windpipe, and Clint tried not to panic at the loss of air. Fucking his mouth hard and fast, Loki growled commands.
"This is what you were made for, human. You enjoy it, being mine, mine to fuck, mine to use."
Clint could feel himself getting lightheaded, tingling starting in his fingers and toes; next was the rush of giddiness, the absence of caring at all. Senses narrowed down to just the feel of Loki's erection thrusting into his mouth, his own heavy cock straining between his legs, sending pulses of aching need into his gut. Just as the edges of his vision blackened and the shadows closed in, Loki's hands eased as he came, the warm salty liquid flooding Clint's tongue, spilling out as Clint tried to drag in a breath. When Loki pulled out, Clint bowed his head towards the floor and swallowed, gasping for air.
Then he could see Loki's knees as the Asgardian dropped to the floor in front of him, taking Clint's chin in those long fingers. The sneer dropped from the impossibly handsome face, and disquiet replaced the arrogance usually there. Dragging his thumb across Clint's lips, Loki sucked it gently into his mouth then bent to lick the rest of his own seed off of Clint's face in gentle strokes. The moaned ripped from Clint's throat just as Loki kissed him, soft lips a whisper touch against his, his undoing as Clint felt a surge in his cock, the evidence of his release all over the floor and Loki's pants.
"Ah, my little Hawk, I could believe that you care," Loki said, more to himself than for Clint. "Occasionally I see something besides loathing in those expressive eyes."
Hands caressed him, clenched around his ass, squeezing hard, marking him. A cry of pain escaped as Loki pulled Clint up to his knees, bringing their hips together, arms stretched taunt behind him, forcing his shoulders to bow backwards at an awkward angle. Loki laughed at the sound, and the moment was gone, eyes cold and hard as the nails that cut into Clint's skin.
"I can't tell anymore." He hissed. "Who really loves me and who doesn't. Power … control … that's all there is. Making you kneel for me." He stood and unlocked the cuffs, releasing Clint's arms. "It's time for your punishment. You didn't wait until I commanded you to come."
He stood by sheer willpower, resolved not to show weakness, driven to please Loki by the staff's spell. It wasn't clear anymore what he felt or what was real. The urge to do anything to serve Loki was overwhelming, but he could still hear his S.H.I.E.L.D. training mantra (and it sounded suspiciously like Coulson's voice) telling him to do anything necessary to distract, disturb, and subvert the potential threat.
"Here," Loki commanded, dragging a chair from under a table, "kneel." Clint folded himself down to the floor as Loki settled himself into the seat, dragging off his shirt. "Now, bend over." Loki patted his knee and Clint hesitated, uneasy and surprised by the command. "Now, Clint. You must remember who is in charge." Reaching to the table, Loki picked up the cane that lay there, letting it slide through his fingers until the bottom rested on the ground, and Clint realized what the man had in mind.
Trembling slightly and all too aware of his vulnerable position, he bent over and laid his chest on Loki's leather clad knees, hands grabbing the legs of the chair. He could feel cold concrete on his knees, Loki's warmth on his chest, and the press of Loki's stirring erection against his side. There was a stroke of heat down his back as Loki's hand trailed from shoulder to ass before he nudged Clint's left leg out, spreading him further apart. He slipped his own knee between Clint's legs; and Clint was left balancing on his toes, his legs in a wide vee, his head looking down at the floor. An embarrassed blush crept up his face as his body heated up, stirring at the image of himself laid out and open.
"Now then," Loki all but purred as his hand traced the line between Clint's buttocks, circling the tightly clenched muscle. "You will remember next time that only I can give you your release, hum?"
He heard the sound of the wood moving through the air a second or two before he felt the sharp sting of the cane connecting with his bare skin. Reflexively, he jumped but managed to bite back the curse that threatened to pop out of his mouth at the pain. Soothing his hand over the red mark he'd left, Loki clucked at Clint and stoked his finger along the head of Cint's erection before the cane whispered and smacked again.
"Damn it," Clint ground out. This was no lover's tap, but a full-fledged hit that would leave bruises and aches tomorrow; he tried to ease away from the next blow, but Loki held him fast with little effort, striking two more times in quick succession, each one more painful than the last. Eyes tearing, Clint could only breathe and hold still.
"The point of punishment," Loki said as if lecturing a child, "is to avoid the behavior in the future." With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the cane back on the table and reached instead for the tube of lubricant. "When combined with exquisite pleasure, the pain can become the best of motivation." His slick finger grazed lightly over Clint's back, and then he pushed it inside in one light thrust; Clint couldn't stop the moan that rolled from the back of his throat. "Pain." Loki pressed his thumb along one of the fast bruising cane marks; a flash of agony shot up Clint's spine. "Pleasure." Plunging his finger in again, he twisted and brushed against Clint's sweet spot, and Clint jerked as a burst of heat flooded his senses. "Pain," fingernails this time, digging in, "means pleasure." A second finger, swiveling until Clint gasped from the sensation. "Fairly simple equation; even humans can understand it."
Calves straining, hands shaking to keep himself up, Clint tried to control his reaction, to ignore Loki's engorged cock shoved against him. But his body refused to cooperate, rising to the occasion on its own accord, training or no training. Fingers pressed his prostate again, and he half-off slid off Loki's lap.
"Ah, Clint, you'll struggle at first, but soon you'll understand it, come to want it this way." Loki grabbed the scruff of his hair and pulled Clint's head up, twisting it sideways to see his eyes. "Such devotion. If I let you right now, I imagine the first thing you'd do is try to kill me, isn't that right?" He took his fingers away, leaving Clint aching and unfulfilled.
"No," he ground out, slipping back onto his heels and off of Loki. "That's not true."
Loki looked surprised. "No? What would you do then?"
"First, I'd bend you over that table and fuck you hard, teach you about pleasure and pain until you came, screaming my name." Clint looked the Asgardian straight in the eyes and smiled. If Loki asked, he could tell him the truth. "Then I would kill you." Loki was speechless for a moment before he gave an uncertain laugh.
"Ah, little Hawk, you wish to subdue me?" Loki leaned towards him. "Why would I let you do that?"
"Because it's what you need," Clint's voice was low as he moved in. "So you can know I really want you, that I'm not just pretending." He was inches away from Loki's face and he could see the indecision, the raw want reflected there. "Let me."
"You cannot kill me."
"No, my liege," he breathed against Loki's lips. "I cannot not. But I can give you pleasure." When there was no resistance, Clint pulled Loki against him, standing up while their lips were locked together, backing him into the bench. Loki's hands circled Clint's head as he took control of the kiss, plundering with his tongue, grinding his cock against Clint's. They touched, frantically, stroking and grabbing, Clint hissing into Loki's mouth when hands ran over the newly-minted welts. Jerking down the leather pants, Clint spun Loki around, bending him over the table just as he promised, pausing only to cover his hand with gel before he slammed two fingers inside, making the dark-haired man cry out and writhe his hips for more. Fast, spreading Loki open, Clint readied both of them before he plunged himself in, fucking hard, all too quickly ready to explode. He spread a hand on the table, inches from the cane which had rolled to the end, trapped between some files and a laptop. With every bit of energy he could muster, he tried to move his fingers, even the least bit, to grab it with his hand, but he couldn't, constrained by the spell. It rolled towards them as they shook the table, but his hand moved away, back to grab Loki's hips despite his every effort.
A final thrust and he was coming, violently, barely able to remember to circle Loki's cock with his hand and finish him off before he collapsed, stumbling backwards and sinking to the floor. Breathing heavily, he sat, the frustration boiling in him at the opportunity lost, his own inability to break free.
Loki's snide laughter sounded as he straightened up and looked down on Clint. "Was that good for you? It certainly was for me." He snatched Clint's head in a vise-like grip with his hand, blue eyes burning, an unnerving smile stretched across his face. "Pain and pleasure, little Hawk. Pain and pleasure."