#thislccksbad

"What time is it...?"

Groggy and half-awake from what he remembered to be a long night of athletic sex, Steve drapes over Clint's mighty chest, his face pressed right into the curve of the other's shapely pecs. For someone otherwise completely normal, Clint's body almost matched his own in size; it made Steve feel like he cheated to get his or something. A silly though, but imposter syndrome never completely went away.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Hawkeye," Steve chuckles, pulling Clint closer to himself he shut the door behind them. He was never this adventurous back home, initiating a hookup right before an Avengers team meeting. Something about this universe emboldened him; made him feel like he could get away with stuff like this.

With existential stakes so high, though, why not live a little. Steve triumphed through a similar event before, and he would do so again with this one. He had to believe that. May as well take some time to enjoy himself in the meantime. Remember that life was for living.

Especially with this this Clint, who proved to be so thoroughly different than the one he knew in his original universe. That Clint was such a straight, traditional dad. This Clint... well, he fucked. Quite a lot, Steve heard. Particularly with his own Steve. It made for an unusual dynamic, sure, but it was kinda hot too.

Truthfully, Scott felt fine to not mingle with Avengers if it were completely up to him, but Xavier and Jean alike advised against this mindset. They were probably right. They needed allies, now more than ever, so Scott put his leader hat on and sought out meetings with every prominent Avenger to form relationships.

He hadn't quite expected his time with Hawkeye to take this turn, though. Turns out Hawkeye liked to drink, and Scott —with his somewhat low tolerance— went along for the ride, which led them here.

[ 6.✮ b ] || from here. || accepting.

"Good morning to you too..." Frank groggily let's out, groaning as the muscle aches from sleeping on Clint's couch seep out of his body, his hips pushing themselves more into the archer's hand as a result. He had a lot of respect for the fellow man with vigilante tendencies.

While Frank himself didn't usually go toe to toe with aliens, gods, or monsters, (at least from what Frank has heard) Clint was a pretty respectable guy... With a wandering hand it seemed. Watching the archer's hand smooth itself across his covered cock, Frank couldn't help but push his crotch into his hand. "Cup of coffee looks different at this time of day, doesn't it?"

He chuffs playfully, giving Clint a drowsy nod and a faint tease of a smile. "You already got it in your hand, might as well pull the trigger, eh, Clint?"