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Written anonymously for the Marvel Kink Meme here.

Prompt was: the Dark Avengers/Clint Barton non-con, bondage... sky's the limit here folks.

Norman lets the team play with their new prisoner.


Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Noncon.




He hated that he was naked, like he wouldn't have felt vulnerable enough if they let him stay dressed. He was weaponless, bound, a sheep in a den of wolves. They didn't have to take his fucking clothes.

Their Wolverine trailed fingertips down the side of his face. "He's pretty. Can we play with him?"

Norman paused at the door. "We need him alive. No loss of limb. Mac, that means you can't eat him."

Clint wanted to lift up his head and look Osborn in the eye, but he couldn't move his head with Mac Gargan's foot on his neck. He'd known it was going to be bad when he woke up naked. Humiliating. Osborn definitely got off on humiliating people. Still, he hadn't realized it was going to be this bad.

"Don't uncuff him, and fasten him back to the chair when you're done." Footsteps as Norman left, and the door closed. His footfalls quickly faded away.

Clint twisted in his bonds, trying to wrench his wrists free.

Gargan removed his foot, and Wolverine rolled him onto his side, dragging Clint's pelvis back to meet his. Sounds of spitting. Clint made a noise of disgust and tried futilely to pull away. Gargan stopped him by planting his feet in Clint's path, and Wolverine drew him back in.

"Fuck," he hissed as a wet finger found his asshole.

Clint gritted his teeth as Wolverine held his hips and pushed inside, managing to stay silent after that one slip.

Wolverine had no such compunctions, making a low noise as he entered. Clint bit the insides of his lips till they bled in his mouth, forcing himself not to make any noise that would let on how much this hurt. He refused to give them the satisfaction.

Wolverine rocked his hips as if testing the waters. "Mmmm, tight." His breath felt warm against Clint's neck.

Jesus, this was Logan's kid? Guy should have sprung for child-rearing lessons.

Clint struggled again, briefly, when Wolverine's hand slipped around and found his cock, squeezing a little too hard. But there was nothing he could do, so he stopped and lay still, breathing hard.

"Oh please, by all means, fight," Wolverine drawled.

There wasn't much he could do with his wrists in the metal clamps. When he kicked backwards, Wolverine tangled muscular legs around his, trapping his calves and stopping him kicking. He kept trying for a minute anyway, but to no avail. Motherfucker was strong.

"I want a turn," Gargan complained, walking around and out of sight.

Wolverine grunted. It sounded loud with his mouth right next to Clint's ear. "When I'm done. Or use his mouth."

"He looks like he'd bite."

Clint heard footsteps again, heavier than Osborn's as they slapped the floor, becoming louder. When the door opened, he saw the leggings and boots of his own old costume, peacock blue and royal purple.

Bullseye.

Clint couldn't stop himself snarling.

"Well, well. Look at the little birdie." Bullseye knelt down next to him. "All tied up, are we birdie?"

Clint wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. Wolverine had him on his side, he couldn't turn away, but he did the next best thing--closed his eyes.

"Birdie's quiet," Bullseye said, sounding disappointed.

"Care to join me?" Wolverine patted him on the hip, inviting Bullseye to--what, double team him?

"Too gay."

"Might make him more vocal." Logan's son sounded nothing like his father. His voice was dispassionate.

"Unless he faints." Bullseye clearly knew what he was talking about. Psycho was probably all too familiar with inflicting pain, to know what the human body could take and what degree of agony would make a person pass out.

Wolverine's chuckle was inaudible, but Clint felt the rumble of it against his back. "Or that." The conversation didn't hinder Wolverine's focus as he fucked him, smoothly rolling his hips into Clint's, thrusting slowly. On inward presses Wolverine's balls brushed against his. Clint felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach.

"Maybe not a bad idea," Bullseye said, reconsidering. "Let's find out."

Wolverine stopped fucking him and propped himself up on an elbow. "Top or bottom?"

"Top," Bullseye replied immediately.

Wolverine pulled out, which made Clint's asshole throb, and rolled onto his back. Grabbing Clint under the arms, he hauled him like a sack of potatoes over his body. Strong, Clint thought again, like his father, and then from behind he heard the zip of Bullseye's pants.

Finding himself face-to-face with Logan's son, Clint didn't resist the immediate temptation to bite him. Wolverine had pulled the mask down and off, and their faces were inches apart. Wolverine's son had thoughtful blue eyes and his breath smelled minty. When Clint sank his teeth into the flesh of Wolverine's cheek, he tasted blood briefly before Logan's son jerked back and head-butted him with a sharp crack. He tasted more blood as the room spun, and knew it to be his own.

Clint watched the bite heal as if his moment of retaliation had never existed. He barely winced as Wolverine slid his cock back in with little resistance. But when he felt Bullseye's slippery cock pressing into the same spot Clint rebelled, clamping down, trying to prevent the additional entry.

The extra tight sensation garnered a murmured "Oooh" from Wolverine, but Bullseye just pushed harder. The pressure hurt. His ass was probably going to be black and blue as well as bleeding later.

Fingers pressed into his skin, bruising his ass, separating. Clint screamed as Bullseye shoved home.

"Mmmm, forgot how big you are," Wolverine cooed up at Bullseye, and then a punch flew past Clint's ear. Wolverine only laughed, and then the pain of two cocks shifting inside him was too much. Clint blacked out.

* * *

When he came to, Bullseye and Logan's son were gone and there was a woman moving up and down on top of him. Everywhere from his crotch to his ass felt wet, and his asshole burned with flashes of searing pain. Felt sharp and stinging. But the only person fucking him was the half-dressed blond woman--oh god, it was Moonstone--who was riding his cock. Her eyes were closed and her forehead was damp with sweat.

Clint realized there was a head in his lap, moving imperceptibly. He could feel the softness of the person's hair against his naked stomach and in his pubes, and he raised his head slightly to see who it was.

He was not that surprised to see the back of that thick black mohawk. Their Wolverine, eating Moonstone out while she fucked him. Clint didn't know how on earth he could possibly be hard right now, disgusted and sick as he felt, with his asshole painfully raw and throbbing. He wondered what they'd done to get him this way.

Jesus Christ, he thought, and it was half a prayer.

"Sleeping Beauty's awake," Bullseye said from somewhere in the background. The head in Clint's lap lifted and turned and Wolverine half-smiled, half-smirked at him.

"How do you feel?" Wolverine had the fucking balls to sound solicitous.

Do we need to go in there and save him? he'd asked Logan. The old man had been quiet and sure when he said no, and now Clint knew why.

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Date: 2011-02-04 12:00 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
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