Clint didn’t understand why Bruce had asked him to go see this particular movie - they had next to no interest in it, since neither of them were particularly ardent fantasy buffs, and they’d established as much when the previews had come out. The only exception to the rule was the Tolkein movies, because in the words of Clint, ‘Tolkein transcends genre’. Whether or not that was true was up for debate, but then, that was neither here nor there because the travesty on the screen before them was not Tolkein. So why they’d paid eight dollars each to sit in the back and not pay attention to it, he had no idea…
…at least not until Bruce slipped his fingers out from between Clint’s, and down into the rough denim join of his fly.
"Oh my g - Bruce!" he hissed, softly enough that he wouldn’t draw attention. "What are you doing?"
"Shh," Bruce admonished softly. "You don’t want us to get caught, do you?"
"But I - oh, holy shit." It had been two sentences in a far more important conversation several weeks ago. He hadn’t expected Bruce to take it to heart, and certainly not to act on it. "Is this about the public sex thing I said?"
"Shh," he repeated, tugging the zipper down and pushing the fabric gently to one side. "What else it would it be?"
Clint swallowed hard, looking around them. The theater was close to empty anyway, and their row practically abandoned…but that didn’t stop him from giving a scandalized squeak when Bruce reached into his pants and gave his quickly-hardening cock a gentle squeeze. Bruce gently shushed him a third time, then slipped his fingers into the gap in his boxers and ran one finger over the velvety head of a fast-growing erection. Bruce shuffled the fabric around with deceptive ease, eventually freeing Clint and stroking him slowly, grinning as he casually raised one hand to his mouth to muffle the noises he made in response to it.
If he’d expected Bruce to just stroke him to completion, he’d been wrong, and he figured as much out when he felt those full, soft lips sink down over him. Clint tightened the seal of his hand over his mouth, swallowing a groan of pleasure…and another, and another, as Bruce worked further and further over him until he’d taken Clint to the base, humming near-silently around him. He bobbed his head, gently working him with his tongue, and swallowing with effortless silence when Clint came.
Clint was barely able to hold himself back, shaking and biting his fingers and thanking all that was good and holy that there was an action scene currently running, because it helped to drown out the whimpers that just wouldn’t be held in. He panted as he came down out of it, and was just about to put himself away and do up his fly when Bruce gave the fabric a determined downward tug.
"We’re not done," he said sweetly, softly.
"We’re not?" Clint squeaked.
"Nope." Bruce slid one finger into his own mouth, and when he withdrew it, Clint could see the way it gleamed in the blue reflection of the screen. "You know how you always wanted to see if you could go one right after the other with me?" he whispered.
"We’re about to find out."
Clint kept his lips sealed tight when Bruce yanked the fabric around again, baring Clint’s bottom and wriggling one finger gently back and forth, between his cheeks. Clint pressed himself hard to the back of the chair and nodded, silently approving…and Bruce rewarded him by pressing in, working gently in and out. He squirmed in response, mouth falling open in a breathless bid for noise; damn it, he just wanted to be able to make noise..!
Bruce worked him open for all of three minutes before he finally rewarded Clint’s curiosity - he crooked into his prostate, rubbing gently, milking wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure from him. Clint writhed until Bruce set an arm across his hips to settle him, after which he just looked down at him with a desperate, pleading expression.
"Bruce, Bruce fuck - “
"Getting close?" Bruce whispered.
Clint nodded frantically. ”So close, so fucking close - !”
"Shh." Bruce grabbed the napkins from his cup holder - Clint had been wondering why he was saving those - and draped them carefully over his cock. "Come for me, then. I’ve got the mess. You just let go."
Clint threw his head back, gritting his teeth and shuddering full-body as he came again. It wasn’t like the first - it ached just as much as it felt good, and Clint’s knees would have buckled if Bruce hadn’t been bracing them open. He was barely coherent when Bruce pulled his hand away, gently sweeping up Clint’s come with the napkins, then using the last clean one to scrub his fingers off.
"How are you feeling?" Bruce whispered.
“Fuck," Clint responded as he wrestled his pants back up.
"I figured as much. How was it?"
"A little painful. A lot good." He looked at Bruce with an expression that bordered on scandalized. "Don’t think I’m complaining, because I’m not, but where exactly did that come from?"
"You should be more careful what you say in conversation if you don’t want me to act on something." Bruce winked, though he wasn’t sure if Clint could see him. "I take that stuff ser - "
"Hey! Quit with the conversation back there! Some of us are trying to watch a movie!!"
Bruce looked over at the source of the voice, then at Clint. The two of them barely managed to avoid bursting out laughing. ”Sorry,” Bruce said in a stage whisper. ”We’ll keep it down.”
((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))