Fic: Far More

[sabinelagrande]

Title: Far More
Summary: Enjoying some old-fashioned Asgardian hospitality.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 2189
Rating/Contents: NC-17, orgy
Pairing: Various combinations of: Bruce, Tony, Clint, Natasha, Steve, Thor, Volstagg, Sif, Hogun, and Phil
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For kink_bingo (orgies/decadence)! Assembling: we're doing it right. This story is from the same universe as Unsquare Dance, but it reads fine on its own.



Clint's never seen a feast before, not like this. This is the kind of thing he used to dream about when he was a little kid, more food than he could possibly eat, all delicious, all his for the taking. There's mead, too, honey-sweet and flowing freely; Clint doesn't usually drink, but even he had some, partly because it was delicious and partly because there just wasn't anything else to drink, soft drinks not a high priority on the Asgardian menu.

None of them really fit the decor in here, but when you're invited to a celebratory feast, you wear your best, which Steve seems to think is your uniform. Phil and Tony lucked out, wearing the same sharp suits they always wear, and Bruce dresses like, well, Bruce, no matter what, but Clint feels weirdly overdressed and underdressed at the same time. At least he's not as comparatively weird-looking as Steve, but really, Steve brought it on himself, so there's no reason to feel bad for him at all- he's not even wearing his cowl, he's fine.

By the time the party starts to wind down, Clint has eaten enough to kill a lesser man, and he's starting to get a little sleepy; he wonders what an Asgardian bedroom looks like, but he can only assume it's as sumptuous as the rest of the place. He didn't bring anything to sleep in, but he feels like Asgard's not that into pajamas, so he's probably fine.

While he's speculating about it, Thor stands up from the table. "The feast is done," he announces, and then he just throws a startled Phil over his shoulder, smacks him on the ass, and says, "Now we retire for the real celebration!"

"Works for me," Tony says, draining the rest of his mead, not all that fussed about it.

"We just celebrated pretty good," Steve says warily.

Thor grins, and Clint didn't know he could look so dirty. "There is much better to come, my friend." He pulls Steve to his feet with his free hand, kissing him hard and fast.

Steve looks a little dazed when Thor lets him go. "Oh," he says. "I didn't know it was that kind of party." Thor just laughs, clapping him on the back and walking away, Phil making 'Why won't you people help me' faces at them as Thor carries him off.

For their parts, the Four Musketeers- minus the blond one, who got drunk and wandered off like twenty minutes ago- don't seem to think that anything about this is strange. Sif and Hogun stand up from the table and begin to usher the rest of them away, considerably more gently than Thor did it; Volstagg spears another piece of meat, a piece of bread, a not-tomato, and some cheese first, making himself a little sandwich, which doesn't surprise Clint at all by this point.

"One has to keep one's strength up," he tells Clint, winking at him. Clint doesn't quite know how to respond to that, but before he can think of something, Tony puts a hand on his back, shepherding him towards the rest of the group.

Okay, it's not his back so much as his ass, but the sentiment is pretty much the same, just with added groping.

They're led down the hallway and into another of the palace's impressive chambers, and it looks pretty much exactly what Clint thinks a harem would look like, minus a bunch of scantily clad women and impassive eunuchs. The room is circular, and there are two steps down into the center, which has a healthy amount of pillows and assorted blankets; the floor must be padded, because Phil doesn't seem to be complaining about the way Thor's pressing him down into it, making it dip beneath him.

People are moving around him, claiming each other, and a lot of clothing is coming off, but Clint sits down on the steps, content to watch. Thor's a big fan of the Son of Coul, and he's not afraid to show it. He's learned how important Phil's suits are to him, so he's carefully put aside Phil's jacket and pants, and now he's working on his shirt. Thor's already naked, and just as soon as he gets Phil's underwear off, he's grinding against him, both their cocks in his big, sure grip. Clint forgets how big Thor is sometimes, how small Phil is comparatively; Clint and Phil are of a height, but Phil is nothing next to Thor, enveloped by him, his hands, his mouth. It's definitely an appealing sight, something to savor, study carefully.

In the middle of all that, there's a loud moan, loud enough that Clint turns his head to look, and that's how Clint finds out that Tony is really into bears.

Volstagg is behind him, fucking him hard, his hands gripping Tony's shoulders, and Tony is going mad for it, moaning and swearing and generally acting like he's having the time of his life. Tony's like that a lot when he gets fucked, more than a little theatrical, but that doesn't mean it's not really fucking hot, watching him go wild like that.

Steve and Hogun are trying to politely undress each other, looking at each other's garments quizzically. It's gonna be a while.

Bruce is in between Natasha and the Lady Sif- okay, she's butt naked and making out with his teammate, he figures he can probably drop "the Lady"- and he's wallowing in it, in their touch; out of all of them, he's the greediest, years and years of skin hunger coming out all at once. Natasha's running her fingers through the hair on his chest, sliding the back of her hand down along his stomach and abdomen, taking hold of his cock when she gets to it, stroking him; she's barely done it half a dozen times when he reaches out and grabs her hips, pulling her towards him. She lets herself be led, throwing a leg over Bruce's hips, and easy as that he's pushing inside of her. She groans, head falling back as she starts to ride him, her hips rolling, his hands spanning her waist. Sif is still kissing him; she sits up and kisses Natasha, too, the two of them fighting for it, Natasha's hand pulling at her hair, their mouths crushed together.

Over in the corner, Hogun and Steve seem to have gotten it figured out and gotten naked. It's clear that Hogun is taking the lead on this one, which is probably a good idea; Steve's gotten to the point where it's not that weird for him anymore, but there's a big difference between, say, making out with Tony and being pinned underneath someone from another planet, even when he's already found out how much Steve likes it when someone nibbles on his neck.

"Will you not join us?" Sif says, crawling over to Clint, which is the sexiest thing that he's seen since- well, maybe it's the sexiest thing he's seen ever.

Clint smirks. "The show's pretty good from right here."

"What he means," Phil says, when Thor momentarily lets up on him, "is that he has to be persuaded."

"Is that so," Sif murmurs, and all of a sudden she shoves Clint's legs open, kneeling in between them and pulling his head down, kissing him the way only an Asgardian can, which is to say, hard enough that he feels like he might die very happily before she finishes with him. He wasn't entirely sure if she'd know how to work a zipper or not, but no, yeah, there's her hand in his pants, her fingers around his cock, and he's suddenly very happy that he went commando today.

It's a bitch to get his vest off, just like always, and the pants aren't a whole lot better; the whole thing is complicated by the fact that Sif doesn't seem to want to stop kissing him and he definitely doesn't want to stop kissing her, but somehow he manages to get his clothes off. He pushes her carefully backwards, laying her out on the floor, close enough to lean over and give Phil a kiss- he's the one who got him off his ass, after all, though it's not like Sif didn't have a whole lot to do with it too.

"Do you want it?" he says into her ear, and she grins brightly at him, nodding. It's more endearing than sexy, and he can't help but smile back, kissing her. Her mouth tastes like mead, and it's beautiful; he pushes slowly inside of her, and that's beautiful too. The air is filled with sound, moans and whispered words, and it's-

Look, the point is it's pretty great.

Sif wraps her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, asking for more without words. There's no refusing a lady like her, especially when she's rocking her hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust, her head thrown back. He buries his face in her neck, kissing and sucking at her skin, and she holds him against her, her fingers laced into his hair.

He doesn't even know how long they stay like that, fucking almost lazily, just enjoying it. It's long enough that Tony decides to come and join the party, kissing anything he can get his mouth on. His hands stay busy too, and he's not particularly subtle with them; he slides his hand down Clint's back, all the way down over his ass, pressing a fingertip inside of him. "Come on," he says into Clint's ear. "Help a guy out."

Clint laughs breathlessly. "If you've got the stuff, I've got the time."

Tony kisses his cheek. "Knew you'd see it my way." He pulls away, getting in behind Clint; he's got some kind of slippery stuff- which is all Clint really needs to know about it right now- and he presses two fingers into Clint's ass, just a little rough, just like Clint likes. Tony's not in the mood to fuck around, and Clint groans against Sif's shoulder when Tony pushes inside of him. The motion only pushes him deeper into her, and this is a pretty great position Clint's found himself in, here. If he could do it as much as possible, that would be ideal.

He doesn't think anyone in the room would mind obliging him.

Tony's all keyed up, pushy as ever, but Clint's not particularly opposed to that right now. Sif doesn't have a problem with it either, reaching over him to dig her fingernails into Tony's back, bending up to bite Clint's neck, and Clint's pretty sure the most logical course of action is to come noisily, so that's exactly what he does. He sparks a little bit of a chain reaction with that one, setting off Sif and Tony both.

His ideas are awesome.

Tony rolls off of him, laying down next to him and stretching like a cat. He's a cuddler, and he very quickly co-opts Natasha for his purposes; she puts up a fuss just for show, just because it's her and Tony and that's how they deal with each other, but she relaxes into it, putting her head on his shoulder.

While Clint's not paying attention, Sif flips them neatly over, kissing him sweetly and smiling at him before she leaves him; she's got business with Hogun and Steve, apparently, which is a pretty good place to have business, as far as Clint's concerned. Clint puts his hands behind his head, looking at the ceiling, and that lasts about fifteen seconds before Thor hauls him in, slotting into the puppy pile that's rapidly forming, right between Phil and Bruce. Clint can't decide which one of them to make out with, and by god he's going to make out with somebody, so he settles for both of them, back and forth.

"We've got to make this a thing," Clint says. "Put weekly Asgard trips on the schedule." He kisses Phil before he can say something bureaucratic and ruin it, a diversionary tactic that he has learned to use to great advantage.

Even distracted and just fucked and mellowed out, Clint still tenses when he hears footsteps, but it's just that guy, the other one of the Warriors Three- Fandral, that's his damn name. "My friends," he says grandly, but he stops short, taking in the room. "You started without me? Again?"

Volstagg laughs heartily. "This is your punishment for wandering away."

"As it always is," Sif adds, and Fandral looks put out, disappointed.

"Come," Thor says, holding out a hand. "There is always room for another."

"I ought to leave, after something like that," he says, but he's already sitting down and reaching to take his boots off.

"You can be persuaded to stay," Hogun says.

"I think I speak for the Midgardian contingent when I say we're really good at persuasion, too," Tony says.

"Alright, alright, if I must," Fandral says, overdramatically, shedding his armor and letting Thor pull him into the pile.

Clint shuts his eyes, a smile on his face. Power nap, then round two. No better plan than that.

This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/426889.html. comments over there.