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Small Gods: First Cup – 3

First Cup:  A Clint Barton Fanfic

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Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2451

Warnings: smut (MF,  oral and vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Clint Barton has a coffee addiction.  One day that addiction brings him to The Elysian Fields coffee shop where he meets you.  Soon Clint feels like his addiction isn’t just caffeine-based.  But things are not as they seem.  With a store that only appears under certain conditions, no customers, and a dog the size of a Dire Wolf, Clint isn’t sure there’s not more going on with you and he isn’t sure how to figure out if his feelings are real or just a side effect of his addiction.

Chapter 3

Clint was excited about his date.  It hadn’t taken him long to decide to call you – he was never really one to play the kind of games most people did when dating.  If he liked someone, he let them know.  Sure sometimes he misread how serious someone was about him and ended up either going too hard or not hard enough about where the relationship was and he either ended up hurting them or chasing them off.  That was different. It was accidental and not born out of a need to control things.

He’d called you that night when he knew the coffee shop would be closed and the two of you had talked for hours.  He felt like a teenager in an 80s coming-of-age movie.  He’d never done the talking for hours on the phone thing.  For starters, growing up in the circus didn’t exactly lend itself to building the close, carefree relationships that movies seemed to imply.  The lack of having a cellphone growing up didn’t help either and the circus couldn’t exactly support a landline.  Finally, he kind of hated the phone.  He hated making calls.  He hated when the phone rang.  He hated that he thought he might be bothering someone when he called, and he hated the fact that he never knew why someone was calling him so he always expected the worst.  He hated when he was talking on the phone he couldn’t see the other person to read their lips in case he couldn’t quite make out what they said.

So when he’d made the call he’d worried.  He’d worried you had only given him your number to avoid a confrontation in the store.  He worried it would be a fake number and he was about to be connected to some random guy in Florida who had no idea who you were.  He worried that you would be busy when he called – that you were making dinner, or on a video call with your mom, or out walking Hati.  He worried that if you did actually like him and you were actually excited to hear from him, hid mishear you a few times and you’d get annoyed with him, and decide the date was too much trouble.

Yet, when you answered the phone it felt like easing into a warm bath. He relaxed and was comfortable.  You were easy to talk to and as he talked he perked up so that it wasn’t long before he went from worried and overthinking to buzzed and excited and completely comfortable.

It was strange too.  The topics the two of you spoke about weren’t the kind that people normally had when they’d known each other for a long time and had a bunch of in-jokes.  It wasn’t long deep and meaningful conversations where you talk about your dark origin stories or plans for the future, and it wasn’t idle chit-chat about the weather or traffic.  It was random ridiculous things that seemed to flow from one to the next without a clear path.  From dogs, you’d seen in the street that day, to games of fuck-marry-kill, to the place in the world you’d each eaten the best burgers and where you’d eaten the worst, to arguing about who had the better celebrity crush.

By the time he’d hung up he was very excited about the date.  It wasn’t elaborate.  The two of you were going to take the dogs to a dog park and then you said you wanted to go back to his place to cook together.  He wasn’t even sure why he’d agreed to that.  He couldn’t cook his way out of a paper bag, but the idea of you in his apartment was so exciting he’d agreed enthusiastically.

There had been one weird caveat that he was now regretting.  You’d asked him not to drink any coffee that day until the date.

“I’m sorry, you want me to what?” Clint asked, a little flummoxed by the request.

“I know it’s weird.  But – please?  I’ll bring you one but I just need it to be the first one you’ve had,” you said.

“Need it to be?” he asked.  “So I am so desperate it’ll taste amazing no matter what?”

“Something like that,” you said.  “But promise me.  Nap if you need to.  But no caffeine.  Do it for me?”

“God,” Clint complained.  “You don’t know how addicted I am to coffee though.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.  I promise I’ll explain.”

“Man,” he said with a huff.  “I must really like you.”

“Well, that’s good,” you teased.  “I really like you too.”

Now he was on his way to the date and he was wondering exactly how much he liked you.  He was dragging badly and his hands shook slightly from withdrawal.  When he saw you coming out of the store, cardboard takeout cup in your hand, and the looming shape of Hati on your heels he picked up his pace, half-walking, half-jogging down the street and he wasn’t sure if he was running to you or the cup of coffee.

You grinned when you saw him and held out the cup.  He took it in a shaking hand and had just enough sense to kiss your cheek hello before he brought the cup to his lips.  As soon as the warm, bitter, liquid with its nutty and sweet undertones hit his taste buds, he completely forgot about asking you why he was supposed to not drink coffee all day.  He was just happy to have it.

“Dog park?” you asked.

“Dog park,” he agreed.

The two of you walked along with your dogs trotting ahead.  Well, Lucky trotted.  Hati took slow strides like he was only just waking up himself.  Lucky looked like a tiny puppy in comparison to the massive – whatever he was – that Hati was.  The golden retriever was as excitable as a puppy too.  He kept bouncing around Hati, looking up at the huge dog with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Lucky really seems to like Hati,” Clint said, as the caffeine kicked in.  “Thought he’d be intimidated by him.”

“Hati is acting like he’s put out by him,” you explained.  “But actually he kinda likes Lucky too.  He’d never admit it though.”

Hati looked back over his shoulder at the sound of his name, and for a moment Clint could have sworn he raised his lips in a snarl.  It was the briefest of moments though, and over so fast Clint was sure he must have imagined it.

They reached the dog park and let the dogs into the yard meant for large dogs.  A few of the owners looked over at Hati as he plodded along in front of you, in no hurry to engage with any of the dogs who came gamboling over to check out the new arrivals, even as Lucky pounced down and barked excitedly.

“Holy shit,” one guy with a plaid shirt and trucker cap said.  “That is one big fuckin’ dog.”

“He’s safe, isn’t it?” an older woman wearing a floral dress asked.

“He promised me he’ll be on his best behavior,” you assured her.

“I like how you talk about him like he talks to you,” Clint said, taking a seat on one of the park benches.  You sat beside him and Hati flopped down at your feet and immediately closed his eyes.  

“He lets me know things,” you said, patting Hati’s head.  Hati wagged his tail slowly but didn’t look up. 

“Does he have some condition?  He’s always asleep,” Clint asked, looking from the sleeping giant at his feet to Lucky who was currently racing around with an American Staffy.

“He’s kind of nocturnal,” you explained.  “Always chasing the moon.”

Clint laughed.  He wondered if that meant you were up late with him or something.  It must be hard having a dog just playing at night and howling at the moon.  Maybe you lived in a place where he got to go outside and run around.  Maybe he was like a junkyard dog protecting your house or the coffee shop.

“So tell me about being an Avenger,” you said, deviating from the topic of dogs.  “Do you like it?”

The conversation went the way it had when he’d been on the phone with you, just flowing from one thing to the next without a clear path.  There was a small conversation about Thor that was quickly abandoned when Hati got up and went and stole a frisbee from another dog.  That then caused the entire population of the dog park to chase Hati around as he managed to elude everyone and everything trying to stop him until you yelled out at him to share.  At which point he stopped, seemed to glare at you, and then threw the frisbee over the length of the dog park making all the dogs chase after it.

It was pretty impressive for a dog.

The sun was going down when you and Clint headed back to his apartment.  You made yourself comfortable in the kitchen while Clint fed the dogs.  That was the other thing he hadn’t taken into account.  Hati took a lot of feeding.

“God, that was like three tins of dog chow for Hati alone,” Clint said.  “You must make good money at the coffee shop.”

You looked up at him from the dish you were assembling.  “You’ve tasted my coffee, right?”

Clint laughed and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck.  “Whatcha making?”

“Eggplant parmigiana,” you said.  “Nearly ready for it to go into the oven.”

Clint hummed and stole a piece of the bocconcini.  “Can’t wait,” he said.

He tried to help as best he could.  Filling one of his pots with water and putting it on to boil.  You put the eggplant into the oven to bake and Clint grinned at you.  “What shall we do while we wait?” he asked.

“Mm- I think I have one idea,” you teased, sauntering toward him.

Clint bit his bottom lip.  He was hoping it would lead here, but he hadn’t been expecting it so soon.  When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him.  He wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you closer as he brought his lips to yours.  You kissed slowly and graphically, licking into his mouth and dancing your tongue with his.  He groaned, the blood rushing to his cock and it began to harden.  He walked you up against the kitchen bench and pressed you against it.  You hummed and began to unfasten his pants.  When you’d got his belt and fly free he spun you around and dragged your ass up against his crotch as his hand went up under your skirt and into your panties.

Your pussy was slick and his finger slid easily up and down your folds.  He groaned softly at the sensation, but it was easily drowned out by the sound of your moan as you let your head fall back onto his shoulder and you arched your back.  He fingered your clit as he kissed your neck and his free hand ran up to massage your tits.

Each time he did something just right, you squirmed against him, grinding your ass against his aching cock.  He started to sink to his knees, dragging your panties down to your calves as he did.  You popped your ass out and spread your legs, displaying your pussy to him.  He groaned as it glistened just in front of his face, the scent of your arousal drawing him in.  He used his fingers to spread your sex and ran his tongue up the length of it, starting at your clit and running down to lap up the fluids as they dripped from you.  You moaned, pushing back against him, and reaching behind you, to grip his hair.

The tug against his scalp and the way you pushed against him only turned him on more.  He began eating you out like a starving man, swirling his tongue around and pushing it inside you.  As he focused more on your clit the sounds you made got louder and more desperate and the harder you pulled his hair.  He felt like every nerve ending was raw and his cock ached to be inside you, yet, he wasn’t willing to stop what he was doing.  It was like a drug and he was addicted.

You began rocking your hips against him and squirming against the bench. Your clit twitched under his tongue and with a cry, you arched back and came on his face.

Clint moaned and drank up what he could, trying not to waste a single drop.

“Clint,” you moaned.  “Please…”

He scrambled to his feet and quickly pulled a condom from his pocket, tearing it open and rolling it on as you leaned back and kissed his jaw, cradling his face with your hand.  “Fuck, Clint.  I want your cock so bad.  Please, fuck me.”

He grabbed your hips, angling back against him, and with a snap of his hips, he thrust inside you.  You fell forward and gripped the bench as he began to fuck you from behind.  He held you in place as his hips snapped quickly into you, shoving you up against the benchtop.  He ran his hands up your stomach and cupped your breasts, pulling you back against him so that you were almost sitting in his lap and he bounced you up with every thrust.  He massaged your tits and ran one hand up to your throat, guiding your lips back to him, and kissing you frantically.

Heat blossomed in him and a current ran right from his balls up his spine.  You began panting and moaning into his lips.  As your cunt began to flutter around his cock he had to tense to hold back his own orgasm.

Your whole body shook as your orgasm hit, and you pulled back from the kiss and cried out.  Clint guided you forward again and picked up his pace as he began to chase his release.  His hips thrust erratically and with a hard jerk he game.  “Fuck…” he groaned as his cock pulsed inside you.

“Fuck is right,” you hummed.  Your body sagging against the bench.  “I needed that.”

Clint slipped out of you and as he quickly tossed his used condom away you got up and pulled up your panties and straightened yourself out.  “Hope that worked up a bit of an appetite,” you teased.  “Dinner is nearly done.”

Clint laughed.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll need to carbo-load for round two.”


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