Fandom: Marvel
Ships: Clint Barton and Loki Laufeyson
Plot: The tesseract has found something unexpected, and wants to make it right, even if it’s lingering is fading.

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There were things Clint could not forget, even he tried. It wasn’t the nightmares of those he had killed that was the reason he was kept up as often as the words in his head. Even after Natasha had brought him back to the surface, given him the wheel back so that he was back in control of himself, that strange voice…it was still there. Like a ghost’s whisper, but sometimes it was much louder. And it spoke of things that he didn’t know, or understand, things that made him question his resolve to hate the man who had enslaved him with a magical stick. It should be easy to hate Loki, really. It should be impossible to make him like the god, but there were times when that voice made it feel like he should be ashamed of his anger. As if he should know Loki before judging him on the actions that Clint knew. The voice that was always so soft, so understanding, and Clint couldn’t see why. It had said from the moment he’d first been nabbed that there was something special, something that had brought him to be at Loki’s side, and even after that spell had broken, the voice remained, reminding him.

“Your place is not here. Go back to him.”

Clint hated the voice, and on occasion, would argue with it in his head. ‘Why go back? He made me kill’

“He was but a puppet, too willingly controlled in an attempt to find acceptance.”

Clint could never truly hold in the scoff when the voice spoke like that. ‘Acceptance of what?’

“He believes himself to be undeserving of affection, unnecessary to those he once cared for because of what he was born as.”

The archer couldn’t deny the flash of curiosity. Loki was from Asgard…wasn’t he? All the intel SHIELD had gathered had explicitly listed him as an Asgardian, like Thor. ‘So…what? Are you saying that I am that acceptance and affection?’ The voice had quieted for a while, leaving him alone at the worst possible moment to try and think. But what he started picking up on was things he hadn’t before. Things he hadn’t noticed when he’d been fighting for control back, too caught up in his fear of losing his control to pay attention to. Loki had never struck him during his time at Loki’s side. Others under his control, who pushed him too far and the god had reached a very high level or irritation, he would strike. He’d seen a few get struck with the full force of the scepter, but Loki had never dared to touch him in a violent manner. In fact, Loki had never been particularly violent or hostile towards him after that initial encounter that led to Clint’s spell being put in place. As if the spell revealed more than just his will to fight.

For days, he tried to contact the voice, but it seemed to have quieted for good, and he didn’t know why. ‘Hey, voice lady, I need answers. Don’t be all cryptic and then expect me to figure it all out on my own. I may be clever, but I aint that smart.’ But still nothing. That was when the dreams started, as if his need to know had triggered something he couldn’t control. They were hard to identify at first, but suddenly, it dawned on him that he was watching pieces of Loki’s life as if he were Loki himself. It wasn’t what he had been wanting to see or hear as an answer, and the first few times, when he realized, he would be woken by a startled gasp as he sat upright. The first several times he would catch the memories, they were happy. It made him feel stupid for thinking for a moment the voice had been right. Loki had clearly been accepted. But then, on a night when a bad thunderstorm had occurred, it all changed. Suddenly, there was self doubt, and hate. A loathing that he had been lied to, a sense of betrayal that ran soul deep. That dream was when the truth was revealed. That he’d never been in line for the throne because of his bloodline; he’d been meant to be a pawn to create a truce after Odin’s defeat of the Jotun.

That was the dream that Clint woke from like a nightmare. He sat upright, half screaming and half crying, looking at his own hands for a moment. The voice hadn’t been lying after all, but then how had Loki ended up attacking earth? The dreams had begun to give him answers but they had brought to the surface so many more questions he hadn’t dared to entertain before the voice and now he had even more. As he began to steady his breathing, he thought he noticed movement in the corner of his room where a large recliner was settled. He looked hard for a moment, and could almost see a figure sitting quietly in the chair, but when he turned the light on while keeping his eyes on the spot, there was nothing. He shook his head a little and moved to lay back down, soon drifting off, unaware that he really did have a guest.

Loki hadn’t expected a connection to occur by simply using a spell. But the tesseract had said Barton was a good soldier. He had needed good soldiers to bring the Tesseract to Thanos. However, the moment the spell was in place, Loki felt a strange charge. A bond, more powerful than any he’d managed to have in his life, had formed. The god had been careful, not wanting to touch the mortal in case the bond completed and his life was shown. He didn’t need pity. He needed peace, he needed to feel like he belonged again, like someone cared. But after the defeat in New York, even without the scepter in hand, the voice had stayed, beckoning him to return to Midgard, to seek out the one the mortals called Hawkeye. It was no easy task, and the first time he’d visited, he’d accidentally touched the mortal’s hand, the connection strengthening. Before he could back away, a flash of his life had formed, and he’d departed, not wanting to see the hatred on the mortal’s face for reasons he didn’t understand. What was it about this man, this mortal Midgardian, that made him feel so vulnerable? He was Loki, the silvertongue, the god of mischief, he feared no hatred from others! Except this one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes and a talent with a bow unlike any archer on Asgard. It was a curious conundrum for the god.

The next few times, with some near silent, probably subconscious beckoning, Loki would willingly open the connection to let Clint in. Happy things at first, so the mortal would understand the tragic event that had broken him. It seemed strange that the night he opened the bond to show the memory, it was raining. Lightning and thunder that wasn’t caused by anything but the natural state of Midgard, and yet Loki still feared he would be taken back before he could complete the memory. And then Barton woke, almost screaming as he cried, and Loki felt his heart stop briefly. Had he broken the mortal? But no, a quick flash of his magic said there was nothing wrong with Clint, only that he had been reacting to the memory. For a moment, Loki’s invisibility fell, and when he realized Clint could make out his shape, he returned it just in time. How could he reveal himself? Speak as just a man who had been broken, who had shown his life to this mortal and seen no hate in hazel blue eyes? He stood slowly as Clint relaxed again, moving to the bed and briefly running his hand along the other’s arm. Gentle, caring, protective. How could this mortal do what so many more powerful than him could not dare? And as Clint moved to look, he was gone.

Clint didn’t need the sensation to know someone was there. Well, not someone, he knew Loki was there. There was this sixth sense when it came to the god, so he knew who it was who had touched his arm so gently the night before. His arm still tingled as he ate breakfast, thinking quietly to himself. There had to be something he could do, some way to prove that Loki could be happy again. That violence didn’t need to be the reason for Loki’s life. He wanted to see the look on the god’s face that he had felt in the early memories of Loki’s life. The idea was strange, given a mere few weeks prior, he had hated and despised anything to do with the man. It was with him most of the day and into the night, but he still didn’t know what to do. So for the next few nights, he simply waited for that familiar presence and then enjoyed the feeling of actually feeling protected. The sensation that someone was looking out for him was nice, especially when he hadn’t felt that way since before his parents had died. It was odd, given that Loki had at one point been the enemy. He didn’t speak up until the next time it rained, letting Loki stay and watch over him. As he laid in bed, content to know the god was in the chair as he always was, there was a kind of tug in the bond, and it took a moment before Clint realized that Loki was a little scared of the thunderstorm. “I know you’re there.” he said softly.

Loki had visited every night for over a week before the next storm hit. And as he’d sat tense in the recliner, watching Clint, the man had spoken. He simply stayed put, not sure if he’d heard right.

Clint gave a sigh and sat up. “I can sense you, y’know.” he said, looking at the chair where there seemed to be nothing. But this time, he let his eyes examine to see the indention where there was actually a person. “It’s just a storm. Thor doesn’t control weather in this realm when he’s not here.”

The words took Loki by surprise, the softness of them, and his magic melted away, revealing him in the chair as he looked at the mortal. “How did you know?”

“The last time it rained, there was that nagging tug. Like anxiety. Thunderstorms have never bothered me, and I knew it had to be you I just didn’t think of why.” Clint said quietly, watching Loki. “Why are you here?”

“I…” Loki stopped, looking down at his own hands and shaking his head with a confused look. “I’m not sure.” he replied. “I didn’t…expect a bond like our to form. Or linger with the tesseract gone.”

“The voice?”

Loki looked up, taken back by the information that the tesseract had stayed with Clint as well. “You heard her?”

Clint nodded. “For a while. Then she stopped, like her link to me was gone.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Uh…” Clint had to think. “A few days before the dream…memory things? Like right before they started.” he replied. “Why?”

Loi gave a soft laugh. “Barton, we have a bond. She was able to bring it forward before I knew.”

“Bond? What are you talking about?”

Loki stood and moved to the bed, kneeling beside it, hands folded on top of each other on top of the comforter Clint was beneath. “It’s a rare and powerful connection. One I’ve never believed I would have. It the opening between two souls that are chosen by the highest of gods, gods much older and more powerful than my family..” he explained. “Thor’s bond formed with the mortal Jane, for example.” he said, trying to put it in terms that Clint could understand. “I didn’t mean to open it without permission, the scepter did it when…” he looked down.

“The spell.” Clint finished, knowing where this was going. But that left a question. “Had you known…before that…would you have-”

“No.” Loki cut him off. “To do so is unthinkable, all documented bonds that have done that have ended badly. By the time I realized…I..” he cut himself off, feeling stupid for the blur in his vision.

Clint blinked as he saw the glimmer of tears on Loki’s lashes and reached out to wipe them away.  He believes himself to be undeserving of affection, the voice had said. And Clint could suddenly see in that moment, that she had been right. Loki had believed himself unable to be redeemed and lost himself in the pain, and yet somehow, he had found Clint. “Don’t cry.” he said softly, causing Loki to look at him. “Not because it’s wrong.” he corrected himself. “I don’t want you to cry because you think I’m going to push you away.”

“Pardon?”

Clint sighed and then looked at Loki, taking a moment to gather his thoughts correctly. “You showed me your life. Loki. Let me in in a way I don’t think you’ve let anyone else in in a long time, maybe ever. That says something even if it’s not in actual words. You’ve never been violent towards me, even now, when I should probably deserve a punch for trying to blow you up.”

Loki gave a self deprecating laugh. “I had controlled you, Clint, you had the right to.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You’ve proven to be different towards me than to anyone in the past. I want that to mean something to you, Loki.” Clint answered. “I want to be able to communicate with you even when you aren’t here. To know you’re still okay. That there’s someone here who believes you can be better than what you think you deserve.” For a long moment, the two men simply watched each other, and then Loki was moving forward, pressing his lips to Clint’s. It was sudden and beautiful and there was a kind of spark deep in his soul as Clint instantly responded, drawing Loki closer and laying back to draw the god with him.

‘Home.’ Loki moved as his bond mate did, kissing at Clint’s neck once he was laid back. “I want to give you something. So you can always communicate with me as you want. Discreetly, given your comrades – and my brother – are not fond of me as of late.” he breathed, pulling back before they got too lost in the bond strengthening as quickly as it was from the physical contact. Clint’s eyes were on him and he raised his hand, and when he rotated his wrist and opened it, there sat a little ring. It was silver, with lots of tiny shards of diamond and a solitary emerald on the top; a ring that was very much Loki.

Clint smiled and lifted a hand to take it, sliding it onto his left ring finger and holding his hand up. “I like it. It’s like you.” he decided. “How does it work?”

“Whenever I’m not here, simply think of me and it will open our connection. Then I’ll be able to speak with you in here.” Loki answered, reaching to gently tap Clint’s temple.

Clint smiled, sitting up enough to kiss the god. “Promise you won’t be gone all the time.”

Loki gave a grin. “I won’t, dearest heart. All I am belongs to you.” he leaned in to once more kiss Clint’s neck, and found calloused hands tugging at his shirt and sliding beneath to the pale skin. Loki shivered and bit down a little, bringing a moan to Clint’s lips as they lay in bed. The archer’s hands were warm and rough on his skin and he liked the feel, sitting up to wave a hand and remove his own shirt, hands reaching to undress the younger male.

Clint hummed and helped wriggle from his shirt, pulling Loki down for a kiss before rolling them so he was on top, kissing a path down the exposed chest. Whatever it was that had drawn them together was becoming stronger, and Clint could almost swear he could feel the way his touch affected Loki’s heart and emotions. He hummed and gave a smile. “I want you.” he breathed, dipping to kiss the other male.

Loki could feel the hands roaming his body, the little trails of what felt like electricity running through his skin after Clint’s fingers had left the area to caress elsewhere. He hummed and waved a hand, completely removing their clothes and both of them gave a gasped as they finally felt skin on skin along most of their bodies. “So warm.”

“You’re pretty warm yourself.” Clint replied, trailing kisses down a lithe body of muscle, hazel hues watching Loki’s face as he did so. He nipped at a pale hip, electricity shooting through him as Loki gasped and arched up, slender fingers gripping the sheets. “You like that?”

“It feels wonderful.” Loki breathed, reaching down to run his hand through brown tresses.

Clint smiled and continued his kisses down to Loki’s thigh, kissing down to one knee, back up and carefully avoiding the hardening length between the god’s legs before kissing down the other thigh. He nudged Loki’s legs further apart, kissing further between the raven haired man’s thighs to swipe his tongue along the god’s cock, base to tip and back. Little broken moans passed Loki’s lips and Clint gave a grin, kissing back up the older male’s body to kiss him fully again. He opened his mouth to speak but found Loki flipping them so that he was now beneath all that delightful weight, his body arching up into the other.

Loki gave a grin as they flipped, adjusting to settle between Clint’s legs as he tilted his head to kiss the archer’s neck. One hand held him up to hover above Clint while the other reached between them, grabbing their two lengths together as best he could and stroking slowly. Moans escaped both of them and Clint turned his head to kiss him again, a swipe of tongue along the god’s lips before he was granted entry and the two were clinging to each other as Loki stroked them. He could feel the gentle rise of Clint’s hips with each stroke, and he enjoyed the way the mortal was so pliable beneath him. “I want to claim you. As only mine.” he breathed, eyes closed as he broke away.

“Please.” Clint replied breathlessly, licking his lips as he rocked his body into the hand holding his own throbbing erection to the other man’s. “I want to be yours.” he pleaded, reaching to run a hand through dark tresses gently. The gentle kisses that Loki leaned to press to his skin made him shiver, and a breathy mix of a sigh and a moan parted his lips when he felt the gentle pressure at his entrance. His body arched to give the god more room, eyes closing as he let his head fall back.

Loki wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or not. He had never been so openly wanted since the day Thor had been declared Crown Prince. Everyone had assumed something was wrong with him, and he’d spent centuries trying to find some semblance of the acceptance he had missed. And then it had been revealed he wasn’t even of Asgard, that he’d been taken as a child in hopes to form some kind of truce between Asgard and Jotunnheim. And yet Clint, this beautiful, fragile, wonderful mortal he had once controlled against his will, was so honest about what he wanted. Their bond was stronger, but the bond only opened up the honesty. He’d seen it with his brother and Jane. The more they let themselves connect through what they said, how they felt, the stronger their bond became. He was careful as he moved to prep the human, lube appearing and generously coating his fingers, kissing and sucking to ease the pain as he slowly stretched Clint open. The younger man didn’t seem concerned about any pain, his whole attention on touching Loki wherever he could. Loki shivered at the pure love he could feel. Even if Clint didn’t say that word out loud, it was the emotion he was expressing as he helplessly returned each kiss and gave Loki praise. It swelled Loki’s heart to hear such acceptance, and the sheer joy of it threatened to make him cry as he finally pulled three fingers from his lover. “Ready, my love?”

Clint nodded, reaching up to run his fingers reverently over Loki’s cheek. “Ready.” His eyes stayed locked on Loki’s as the other carefully slid into him, and Clint moaned because he’d never felt anything like the way it felt to have that throbbing shaft claiming his body skin on skin. His hands ran up slender arms to grip at Loki’s biceps. “So big.” he breathed out, accepting the kiss as Loki pressed further into him, bottoming out after a few long moments. He was a mix of disappointed and relieved when Loki didn’t immediately start to thrust, instead giving his body time to adjust.

The heat of Clint’s body was the most sensual feeling Loki had never thought of feeling. Clint’s body was tight around him. He kissed up Clint’s neck as he let them adjust to the feeling of being completely linked, their bond sealing. He bit at the juncture of the archer’s neck and shoulder, suckling at the skin to bring forth a bruise, further leaving his claim on Clint’s skin. The rise and fall of their chests echoed uneven breathing and moans that escaped them as slowly, a rhythm began that both men fell into without even thinking about it. Loki was stunned, because it was almost as if he could feel as himself and as Clint, and it was strangely beautiful. He hadn’t heard of a bond like this, but it didn’t dawn on him to be concerned because he was supposed to be here, supposed to love Clint Barton and be loved by him. “You are…so perfect…” he breathed against kiss swollen lips as he moved. “I’ve…waited…so long…..for you.”

“You found me…that’s all th-…that matters.” came the reply. Clint’s body was pliant and welcoming and he didn’t care. He wanted Loki; wanted the older male to know that he was loved, even if Clint was the only one. Hearing the words, Clint leaned up, shivering as the new position hit the bundle of nerves and he cried out, burying his face in Loki’s neck. “Do that again..” he begged. When Loki obliged, his body once more quaked, and he kissed at the bare skin of the god’s neck. “So close.”

The two words sent a wave of determination into Loki and the god moved his hips faster, harder, pistoning the two of them to their ends and the completion of their bond. The end came all too soon and Loki let his body continue to move, determined to have his lover, his chosen soulmate, find his end as well. And when Clint’s length spilled between them, Loki finally let his body go limp, pressing lazy kisses along the other’s skin. “You are mine now, Clint.”

“And you’re mine, Loki.” Clint replied, reaching to run a hand through dark hair. “Forever.” He blinked a little as Loki waved a hand and they were clean, the god gently withdrew and moved to lay on his side, pulling Clint to face him as arms wrapped around each other. “Sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” Clint promised, feeling sleep call him as the high of their bond completing faded and he accepted the cuddled warmth of his mate, falling into the depth of sleep. When the morning sun peeked through the window, Clint stirred and stretched, opening his eyes to see Loki lying relaxed in his arms. The god looked peaceful, calm, happy. Clint liked the way he looked, reaching up to brush his fingers over Loki’s cheek. The god’s eyes opened and green caught hazel, the two watching each other for a moment before Loki reached up to brush his own fingers over Clint’s lips.

“You’re really here.”

“I told you I would be, Loki.” Clint countered, smiling. He moved closer, leaning to kiss Loki softly. “I told you. You can be more than you think you deserve.” The contact sent a wave of some kind of electricity through his very soul. Loki clearly felt the same because in one moment they were laying on their sides and the next, Loki was pulling him on top, Clint’s form pressed firmly against his lover’s as Loki kissed him, hands wandering and passionate behind the contact. That was the moment Clint knew he had never been happier to have met the silver-tongued prince of Asgard.