Sometimes it seemed to Clint that being an Avenger was nothing but disappointments. Case in point, they'd been called out all the way to Scotland to defeat an unknown creature from destroying large parts of the country, and yet it had had nothing to do with the Loch Ness monster. It also hadn’t included any scared bystanders yelling, “Hoots, mon!”, and then, just to really hammer the final nail in, Steve had announced that they'd all been invited to a gala ball as a thank you, and it was mandatory to attend.
Clint groaned and turned to rest his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder. It meant curling over more than was really comfortable, given the difference in their heights, but Bucky’s shoulders were nice and broad and he always bore up well under Clint’s dramatic misery.
“Please, Steve, no more bullshit galas,” Clint moaned. “I am so done with rich people and their stupid ideas of what’s fun.”
“Okay, now I’m feeling kinda insulted,” said Tony.
“They want to show their appreciation,” said Steve. “It would be rude not to go.”
Clint groaned louder.
“It’s in a castle,” said Natasha, and Clint perked up, lifting his head to look at her.
“One with a chandelier I can swing from?”
“No,” said Steve, very firmly.
Bucky nudged an elbow into Clint’s side. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be able to find some fun in a castle.”
Steve let out a very long sigh, but he knew their limits so he didn't flat out forbid any shenanigans. “Nowhere public, nothing that’s going to cause a scandal, and you spend at least two hours schmoozing first.”
“One hour,” bargained Clint.
Steve glared at him. “Two hours. Or next time, you’re staying right next to me the whole night, shaking hands with dignitaries and laughing at their shitty jokes.”
Clint relented. “Okay, fine, two hours.” He glanced at Bucky. “Whatever we find to do better be real fun.”
Bucky sent him the dirty smirk that never failed to speed up Clint’s heart. “Oh, I got some ideas, sugar.”
Steve let out a very loud, very pointed sigh, but neither Bucky nor Clint so much as glanced at him.
Okay, sure, and probably late and dishevelled, but Clint’s promise to Steve hadn’t covered when or how they turned up to this thing.
Apparently Bucky had decided to behave though, so Clint just sulkily pulled on the suit that Natasha had magicked out of somewhere for him and then headed down to where he could hear soft chatter and the clink of expensive glass. God, he really hated these things.
He grabbed a handful of tiny nibbly bits off a tray and glanced around for a familiar face. The place was filled with the kind of smug rich types that made Clint’s skin crawl, all of them so very pleased to find themselves on the top tier of society. Fuck, why couldn’t they have just gone to a local pub and let some working class guys thank them by buying them a couple of drinks and then leaving them alone?
Clint could see an elderly lady with a tartan shawl thrown over one shoulder and held in place with a brooch that looked like it cost more than Clint’s entire wardrobe eyeing him up with a look he recognised all too well as a prelude to being forced to dance with her, and probably get his ass pinched. It was a massive relief when he finally spotted Sam, standing in the corner talking to some guy in a kilt, which was apparently a thing that people really did here and, wow, so few of these men had the legs for it.
Clint made a beeline for Sam just as the tartan shawl lady started to make her move, acting as if he hadn’t seen her.
“Hey man, have you-” he started, and then nearly swallowed his tongue when the guy in the kilt turned and he realised it was Bucky.
Because the thing was that Bucky really did have the legs for it, not to mention the rest of him, all wrapped up in a black jacket that clinched in his waist and highlighted his shoulders and, shit, there was no way Clint was going to last two hours without molesting the guy. Most of his hair was down, but the front was pulled back into a little bun at the back, so that Clint could see every line of his beautiful jawline but soft curls still brushed against his collar.
“Oh,” he croaked, weakly.
Bucky gave him the smuggest smirk Clint had ever seen on his face and Clint automatically swayed forward to kiss him.
Bucky put his hand on Clint’s chest, holding him back. “Two hours,” he reminded him. “I’ve got plans for you, and I’m not letting Steve get in the way of them.”
“But, sexy Scottish laird,” whined Clint, helplessly. “I want you to fuck me up.”
“Oh god,” said Sam, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’re going to get banned from Scotland.”
Bucky ignored him, not taking his eyes off Clint for a moment. “Funny,” he said in a low voice, “I wanted you to fuck me up. Be good for me and make me feel real nice.”
“Ah, fuck,” muttered Sam, and walked away.
“Yeah,” said Clint, breathlessly, feeling every inch of his skin crawling with arousal. “Fuck, Bucky, yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”
Bucky’s eyes flickered over Clint for a slow moment, taking in his appearance with appreciation. “I want,” he said, in a drawl that had Clint fighting the urge to step in closer and get to touch him, “you to behave for two hours.” He turned and grabbed two glasses off the tray of a passing waiter and shoved one in Clint’s hand. “Go, mingle, don’t give Steve any reason to stop us sneaking off as soon as we can. I wasn’t kidding about my plans.”
Clint took a deep breath because, upsettingly, that made sense. “Okay, fine,” he said. “Two hours, and that’s it, though.”
“Sure,” agreed Bucky. “You think I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you any longer than that?”
Clint grinned at him and adjusted his bowtie with what he hoped was a suave, James Bond-esque air, then turned to start on the tedious part of the evening.
The first person to catch his eye was the tartan shawl lady, who lit up like a pinball machine. Ah, crap.
Because every time he got his ass pinched again, or felt his eyes glazing over as some ‘captain of industry’ went into a ramble about the economy, or their latest yacht, Clint glanced over and was treated to the view of Bucky’s knees, and the line of his calves in those ridiculous socks and, wow, was it weird to want to lick someone’s calves? Maybe. Probably. Eh, he and Bucky had done weirder.
“C’mon,” muttered Bucky, and Clint immediately gave the boring rich guy he was talking to the briefest of polite smiles before ducking away, trailing after Bucky and out of the hall.
As soon as they were alone, Bucky reached back and grabbed Clint’s hand, but didn’t slow down, striding through the castle in a way that made his kilt sway around his knees in a distracting manner. Clint was so busy watching it that he didn’t notice they were heading in the opposite direction to their bedrooms until they’d gone up three flights of stairs.
“Hey, where are we going?” he asked.
Bucky just glanced back and grinned, and then sped his steps up.
They went up another couple of flights of stairs, then Bucky paused at a heavy wooden door that almost certainly should be locked and pushed it open, then led Clint out onto the roof.
Clint blinked around and realised, nope, not the roof. The battlements. Okay, that was cool.
“Is that a cannon?” he asked.
“Yup,” said Bucky, finally letting go of his hand and heading over to it. The castle was covered in lights that probably made it look cool and atmospheric to anyone driving down the valley, and that cast just enough light for Clint to see clearly as Bucky sat down on the wooden base of the cannon, leaning back on his elbows so that the whole line of his body was on display, and then nodded at Clint. “You gonna put on a show for your sexy Scottish laird?”
Clint snorted, glancing down at his boring tuxedo. “Seems like the laird’s putting on a much better show than anything I could manage,” he said.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “C’mon, play along. I want to see your biceps.”
“You always want to see my biceps,” Clint pointed out, but obligingly took off his suit jacket, then started humming as he pulled off his bowtie as sexily as he could, swaying his hips and then slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “This good?”
“Oh yeah,” said Bucky, watching Clint with dark, intent eyes. “Just perfect. You’re doing a real good job of pleasing your laird.”
Clint snorted. “Who am I in this scenario, exactly?” he asked. “Cos I’m kinda dressed up a bit much for a servant.”
“Not at all,” said Bucky. “You think I didn’t dress my hot stableboy up so I could take him to a fancy party, then sneak him up to the battlements where I could get him to fuck me over a cannon?”
“Oh Jesus,” muttered Clint, losing the beat he’d been swaying too. “Bucky, please, I need to get my hands on you.”
He started forward, but stopped when Bucky held up a hand. “Shirt off first,” he said. “I told you, I want to see your biceps.”
Clint rolled his eyes, but obligingly dropped the shirt onto the ground, ignoring how dirty it was likely to get, then took two swift steps forward to sink down in front of Bucky, resting his hands on the rough wool covering his knees.
“C’mon, laird,” he said. “Let me kiss you.”
“Sure,” said Bucky, sitting up and running his hands over Clint’s shoulders and arms in what was an achingly familiar manner, because half their sexual encounters started like that. Clint leaned into kiss him, brushing his hands up Bucky’s kilt and taking hold of his waist.
He was just getting lost in the taste of Bucky’s mouth, settling in between his thighs and thinking about maybe getting his hands under the kilt, when Bucky pulled away, then put his hand up to stop Clint when he tried to follow.
“I actually kinda want you to kiss me somewhere else,” he said, spreading his legs wider around Clint and then leaning back against the cannon. “That’s why sexy Scottish lairds wear kilts, right? Ease of access?”
Clint snorted. “Not sure that’s the official reason,” he said, sitting back on his heels and letting his hands wander down over Bucky’s calves, “but it would seem weird not to take advantage.” He cupped his hands over Bucky’s knees, rubbing his fingers over his leg hair as a thought struck him. “Hey, how much ease of access is there? How traditional did you go?” He started to push the material up, teasing both Bucky and himself with a slow slide.
Bucky snorted. “Yeah, no, I’m wearing underwear. You really think I wanted to risk chafing? Especially when I kinda knew I’d probably end up half-hard for the whole of this stupid party, just from watching you in a suit.”
Clint tamped down his disappointment as he pushed the kilt up to reveal the strong lines of Bucky’s thighs. Fuck, as hot as the kilt was, it was kind of a crime that those had been covered up this whole time. He leaned down to lick over the corded muscle on the inside of one, and Bucky let out a quiet sigh, then relaxed further.
“Yeah, that’s it, hot stableboy,” he said. “Get your mouth right in there.”
Clint let out a snort but did exactly as directed, licking further up to where a pair of tight black briefs were holding in Bucky’s erection. The heavy weight of the kilt, and the sporran on top of it, were tricky to manage for a bit, but he managed to get them tucked up and out of the way so that he could lean right in and suck gently at the line of Bucky’s cock through his briefs.
Bucky’s hand tangled in his hair, holding Clint’s head in place as he ran his mouth up his cock, wetting the fabric as he sucked a row of open-mouthed kisses up to the head.
“That’s my good boy,” said Bucky, softly, and fuck, Clint was so god-damned hard right now.
This was the part of these silly games they played that neither of them ever mentioned, that any hint of Clint serving Bucky, or Bucky praising him like that, was enough to take Clint from zero to sixty in no time at all, so turned on and eager to give Bucky exactly what he wanted.
He rolled his tongue around the shape of the tip of Bucky’s cock, making him groan, then pulled back, shuffling away on his knees so that he could peel the underwear down Bucky’s legs and chuck it aside before moving back in to properly suck him off, taking his dick in his mouth and swallowing down as much as he could. Bucky rested his hand on the back of Clint’s head, just lightly, but it was enough to feel like he was in control, and Clint could feel his own cock starting to throb with excitement.
“Yeah, just like that,” said Bucky again as Clint pressed his tongue up against the underside of his cock. “Just like that, Clint, you’re so good at this, fuck.”
Clint couldn’t hold back a moan at that, pressing in closer and running his hands over Bucky’s thighs and then down to his hips.
“Yeah, you’re going to suck me off, and then you’re going to fuck me,” said Bucky. “I’m gonna lean over this cannon and you’re gonna pound into me, just how I like it, yeah?”
The idea of it, of Bucky completely dressed in his fancy gala dinner clothes, nothing out of place except the kilt and the underwear discarded behind them, was almost more than Clint could stand right then. If anyone came up, all Bucky would need to do was stand up and let the kilt fall down, and they’d have no idea that he was bare-assed under it, all wet from Clint’s mouth and fucked open by his cock and, shit, this had to be in the top five hottest things they’d ever done.
He had to pull away, leaning his face against Bucky’s thigh for a moment to catch his breath. “You’re going to kill me,” he said, and his voice was rough from Bucky’s cock.
“Not until you fuck me,” said Bucky, and nudged him with his knee. “C’mon, stableboy. Your laird commands you.”
Clint would have rolled his eyes at that, but there was a hoarse edge to it that made him think that he wasn’t the only one getting off on the idea of Clint only being there to obey Bucky’s whims.
“Yes, my lord,” he said, and sucked down Bucky’s cock again. If Bucky wanted Clint to serve him, then Clint was going do exactly that. He brought his hand up to stroke over Bucky’s balls, then pulled away from his cock to do the same with his tongue, licking a mess of saliva over them and then further back, pressing the flat of his tongue just where he knew it would make Bucky moan.
“Yeah,” groaned Bucky, his fingers tugging harder on Clint’s hair. “That’s so good.”
Clint hooked his arms under Bucky’s thighs, pulling them up and pushing them apart so he could get further in, running his tongue back along the crack of Bucky’s ass. Bucky sucked in a sudden breath as he realised Clint’s plan, then shifted his hips to tilt his ass up higher.
“Yeah, come on, open me up for your cock,” he said, as Clint teased at his hole with the tip of his tongue and, fuck, how did Bucky always find the perfect thing to say to turn Clint on so much that he could barely think?
He pressed his tongue harder against the furl of Bucky’s hole, feeling it gently give, then pulled back to lick around the rim. He was good at this, and knew exactly how to take Bucky apart until he was nothing but groans and panted out words of praise.
“Fuck, you’re so good to me,” muttered Bucky as Clint finally pressed his tongue inside, feeling Bucky’s thighs starting to shake where he was holding them up. “Clint, fuck, Clint, you’re so good, so good, just keep, just like that.”
God, Clint wasn’t going to last if Bucky kept talking like that. He was so turned on just from seeing Bucky like this, coming apart with choked out noises and tiny hitches of his hips as he tried to stop himself just fucking back onto Clint’s tongue.
Clint pulled away, sitting back on his feet and taking a couple of deep breaths as he lowered Bucky’s thighs again. “Do you want to come like this, or when I’m fucking you?” he asked, and then belatedly added, “My laird?”
Bucky snorted a breathless laugh and slumped back against the cannon. “Fuck, Clint,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Fucking me,” he said, decisively. “I don’t want to miss out on getting your dick in me.”
He heaved himself to his feet, a step higher than Clint on the cannon's base so that Clint was kneeling at his feet, shirtless and panting as the kilt fell back into place and Bucky, somehow, managed to look completely put together. Lust thrummed through Clint and, yeah, if he didn’t get his dick in Bucky soon, they were both going to miss out.
Bucky fumbled his sporran open and pulled out a tube of lube and a condom, which made Clint give a delighted laugh, because he was willing to bet no one else at the boring ass party downstairs had stashed sex supplies in there.
Bucky grinned at him and gave a wink, handing them both to Clint and then running a hand over his hair. “You’ve done real well so far, stableboy,” he said. “Let’s see how you handle this next job.”
“I live to serve,” said Clint, meaning it to sound like a joke, but it came out just that little bit too sincere.
Bucky gave him a long, lingering look. “And you’re doing a real good job,” he said, just as seriously. “You’re being such a good boy for me, Clint.”
Clint couldn’t hold in his shudder as heat spiked through him. Fuck, he was giving way too much away right now.
Bucky just smiled at him, then turned to shuffle closer to the barrel of the cannon, bending over it and spreading his legs. “Open me up and fuck me,” he commanded, and Clint had to take a moment to just breathe before he stood up, so that his legs were strong enough to take his weight.
Bucky had his legs spread wide and his arms braced against the cannon, but he’d left everything else up to Clint, everything about his stance demanding satisfaction. Clint pulled the kilt up again, flipping it over Bucky’s back to reveal the beautiful sight of his bare ass, and then popped open the lube and coveried two fingers. It wasn’t going to take a lot after Clint had licked Bucky’s ass open so thoroughly that it was still wet with his saliva when he pushed his fingers inside, aiming for the spot that he knew always made Bucky tense up, just like...yeah, like that.
“Fuck, Clint, don’t mess about, just get on with it,” said Bucky. “I wasn’t kidding about wanting your dick.”
“Sure thing,” said Clint, and then pushed inside to hit the spot again, because wanting to obey Bucky’s orders didn’t stop him from also wanting to be a little shit.
Bucky bit off a swear word, his head dropping for a moment, then he pushed back against Clint’s fingers, clearly eager for more. “I thought I told you what I wanted,” he said. “I don’t want your teasing, I want you to fill me up and fuck me so hard I see stars,” he said. “I want to be feeling it for hours, I want to know you pounded into me while I was wearing this stupid kilt, and that no one down in that shitty party has a clue.”
“Fuck,” muttered Clint, and gave up on teasing because, god, he wanted that too, so much. He undid his pants and pulled them down his thighs just enough to release his erection. He opened up the condom and slid it on, then wiped more lube around it, gritting his teeth against the feel of how damn good that was around his dick. Shit, he needed to get some control over himself, or he was going to come long before Bucky was ready for him to.
And that was the point of this. To make sure Bucky got exactly what he wanted from Clint.
He took a deep breath and shut his eyes for a moment, pushing away as much of his arousal as he could, then stepped closer to grip Bucky’s hips, pressing inside him with one, steady movement as Bucky made a choked off noise beneath him.
“Yeah, god, you feel so good,” he said. “Just like that, Clint. Do that again.”
Clint pulled out and fucked back in, a bit faster this time, and then gripped tighter at Bucky’s hips and got lost in the rhythm, gritting his teeth against the tight squeeze of Bucky’s ass around his cock, trying so hard not to just lose it and come right there.
“Harder,” demanded Bucky. “Come on, make me feel it.”
Clint fucked into him harder and Bucky groaned, pressing back into the movement, clearly still wanting more, so Clint started moving even faster, their bodies moving together with a hard rhythm that Clint would have thought would hurt Bucky if he wasn’t moaning underneath him, swear words mingled with praise flooding out of his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah, fucking- just perfect, Clint, you’re so fucking perfect, giving me exactly what I want, come on, just a bit more, you can do it.”
Clint felt like the slightest breath would make him come, but he didn’t, because Bucky wanted him to keep going, and this was for him. He just fucked into him, sweat coating his skin despite the cool night air, every scrap of willpower fighting off his orgasm, and waited for Bucky to tell him that he’d done enough, that he’d been good enough for him.
“Oh, oh fuck, yeah,” gasped Bucky, and then, “Clint, your hand, need your hand on- fuck!”
Clint peeled one hand off Bucky’s hip and leaned further over him to wrap it around his cock instead, pulling at it with a tight grip that he had to concentrate to keep in time with his thrusts. He didn’t have the breath to talk right now, but it didn’t seem he needed to, because it barely took three strokes before Bucky was coming with a strangled cry, come covering Clint’s hand.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, and Clint made himself slow down, stuttering his hips but not pulling away, not just yet.
“No, come on,” said Bucky, pushing back against him. “Come on, come in me.”
His permission was all Clint needed. He pushed inside a couple more times, and came with a shudder that was as much relief as pleasure.
“Jesus,” muttered Bucky. “So fucking good, Clint, fuck.”
Clint let out a long breath, then pulled away, out of Bucky, and let himself sink down onto the cannon’s base, slumping against the stone wall as every muscle simultaneously gave up. Bucky unpeeled himself from the cannon and slithered down next to him, leaning in to press a kiss to Clint’s lips, and then another to his forehead.
“That was perfect,” he said. “Even better than I imagined.” He pressed up against Clint’s chest until Clint found the energy to drape an arm around him.
“It was pretty good,” he agreed. “Guess the hot stableboy is worth keeping around, yeah?”
Bucky let out a snort of amusement. “Guess so,” he said, then glanced down at himself with a wince. “I think the sexy laird is going to have to get his kilt dry cleaned, though.”
Clint just hummed in response to that, because he didn’t have the energy for anything more. They sat there, cuddled together and slowly recovering, until Bucky nudged him. “You’re getting cold,” he said. “C’mon, stableboy, let’s go find a bed.”
“Yeah, good idea,” said Clint, who was already half-asleep against the wall.
Bucky stood up with more ease than a non-super-soldier would have had after a fuck like that, brushed down his kilt and readjusted his sporran, and just like that he was as neat and tidy as he had been at the start of the evening. How the fuck did he do that? Even his hair wasn’t out of place.
Clint looked over at the crumpled heap of his shirt, and the dirt he’d dropped his jacket in, and then down at his pants, still open and down around his thighs with his cock hanging out. There was come or lube or both staining them.
“Please tell me you’ve got a plan to get back to a bedroom without anyone seeing us.”
Bucky grinned at him and shrugged. “I don’t know, I kinda like the idea of everyone seeing you like that, and knowing it’s me that did it."
Clint groaned as he pulled off the condom and pulled his pants back up. “Sam was right, this is going to end up with us getting banned from Scotland.”
"Are we going to need to come back?" asked Bucky, holding his hands out to Clint to pull him up. "I mean, I've got the kilt now."
Clint took his hands and allowed himself to be helped up, only staggering slightly as he made it to his feet. Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled Clint into a kiss, stroking his hands over Clint's shoulders and arms as if he was trying to warm him up. Clint wasn't fooled for a moment, he knew he was just eager to get his hands all over Clint’s muscles.
"Of course we’re coming back,” he said. “We're going to have to fight the Loch Ness monster."
Bucky just snorted a laugh and leaned in to kiss him. Clint pressed closer into his embrace and kissed him back, because arguing about Nessie would always come second to getting to kiss his sexy Scottish laird.