Deception's Uncommon Fate

"So, Clint, how long has it been since the divorce?"

"Fuck you, Tony. I told you a thousand times not to fuckin' bring it up."

"C' mon, man! You've been moping around here for days. You never come out on the party deck, no pool, beer, what gives?"

Clint ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed them over his eyes, making a face at Tony. "Maybe I just don't feel like hanging out with a bunch of shit-faced super-heroes. It gets old after a while, ya' know? I got work to do. Now leave me alone."

"Hey! That's not fair, Legolas, we don't always drink to get drunk. It's an All-American hang-out pastime!"

"Dude. Your minimum down-age is a bottle of Vodka and not the cheap shit. Like a billion proof. Don't try to pull that shit with me."

Tony followed Clint like a puppy around the penthouse, begging and whining.

"You need to loosen up, relax, live a little. Get laid." He shrugged, downing a shot that he seemed to have procured out of thin air.

"You don't know what I need. So stop guessing."

"Every guy needs a nice, hard, dirty screw once in awhile. It keeps the blood flowing and the bad juju away. And you, my friend, are wallowing in the bad juju."

"Even if I wanted to get laid – and I don't!" Clint interrupted when Tony raised his finger to emphasize his point. Clint could hear the other man's jaw click shut and felt a small stab of satisfaction. "And I don't, there isn't anyone around here I'd even consider."

Tony looked hurt. "Not even me?"

"ESPECIALLY not you," Clint deadpanned, trying to gather his shit and leave Tony's whining behind for the day.

"You wound me, pal."

"You'll live."

"If I found you a hot, available, clean chick that wanted to fuck your brains out, would you at least consider it?" Tony continued to wheedle.

Clint dropped his head in defeat, and Tony knew he had won- again.

"Fine. If you find a smokin' hot girl that isn't more than ten years younger than me, that gags for arrows and leather, set me up."

"I am ON it like syphilis on a whore!" Tony enthused.

Clint slapped his hand to his forehead and squinched his eyes shut tight. "Could you just not – for once – wax poetic about venereal diseases?"

"Spoilsport."

"I gotta go."

"Be here tomorrow at eight in the evening, sharp. Bathe, and put on some of that sexy cologne."

"It's aftershave – and how would you know – nevermind. I don't want to know."

Clint made way for the elevator and spun around. "You seem awful sure of yourself. What if I don't like her?"

Tony shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Then Ghost her. Tell her you had an emergency come up. Pretend you need to check on your grandma. Text me, call me Betty, and I'll write you some old lady shit for you to sob over. Hook, line, sinker, BOOM. Works like a charm every time."

"Are you fuckin' serious? You actually use that on girls?"

"Deadly. And yes. Now go. I got some pussy rustling to attend to."

"Only you, Stark. Don't make me regret this."

"Oh, you won't. This time tomorrow you'll be at least two nuts into some hot cunt."

"It's gotta be clean. That's non-negotiable."

"Of course!"

"And protected. I'm going bankrupt paying for the three kids I got. Not that I'm complaining, you know I'd do anything for them. I just don't need more."

"Assured."

"And-"

"Just fuckin' go, okay? Relax, do your archer thing, then spruce up, watch some porn, then get over pronto at eight and let some horny bitch make your eyes cross, and your toes curl."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this. Fine. Alright then. Later."

"' Asta la vista, Lover Boy."

(Tony on his cell phone the following day, his side of the conversation only.)

"No….. well, yeah… uh-huh…. I called them already! ….. I don't want an escort agency!... because the client isn't into that, and a hooker wouldn't be able to pull off the act. It has to be natural…No, he's into safe sex…..I don't give a shit if you think that's boring. Look, are you going to help me or not?... Fine. Eat shit, and have a nice fucking day."

Tony angrily hung up on the asshole he'd been speaking with., swearing up a storm.

Having walked in on the tail end of the one-sided conversation, Hermione turned right back around and scowled when Tony caught sight of her.

"Toots! Get back in here!"

Rolling her eyes, she groaned and conceded, her high heels clicking sharply over tile, tossing her handbag onto the bar. Straddling the barstool, she slapped the bar and said, "Hit me."

Tony sidled over and poured her a shot.

She slammed it.

"Hit me again."

More alcohol poured, and she slammed that one too.

"God, I needed that. Thanks, Tony."

"Hard day?" he pried, pouring himself a drink.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to give me gray hair by the time I'm thirty."

"Ooh. Not a good look on you, Granger."

"Thanks. Some days I wonder if I should ditch them and move back to jolly old England."

"Nick would be so far up your ass the shit would get jealous."

"Yeah, I'm aware. Hence, why I stay."

"Come work for me."

"For the one-hundredth time, NO. Not interested in being the four billionth notch on your bedpost."

"Hey! That's not fair! I'm a great lay, and for your information, I do not have that many notches. It's like, four billion and one."

"Hmm, endearing. Do you own stock in a hospital for all the STD's you pick up and spread around?"

"C' mon, Granger, that's not nice."

"You're not a nice guy, Tony. You're an asshole. A loveable asshole, but still, the number one, grade A asshole of the century that I know and love."

"Do I get an award?"

"You wish." Hermione kicked her heels off, then pulled a sore foot onto a knee, rubbing at a sore spot. "Oh, shit, that feels so good to get those bloody shoes off. I hate high heels. Cushioning Charms only go so far."

"Why wear them?"

"They make my legs look killer. Plus, job security."

"I like your style."

"Pig."

"Bitch."

"Cad."

"Cunt."

"Asshole."

"Angel."

"Ironface."

"Stranger Granger."

They both cracked a smile at the same time, treasuring this weekly bantering session. The two were good friends, and the deal was whoever cracked first bought a round at the next outing.

"Come here, toots."

Hermione hopped off the stool, climbed onto the bar and slid her ass over its smooth surface.

Tony scooped her up and gave her a big hug. Setting her down, the pair wandered to a leather sofa and plopped down at opposite ends.

"God, I miss you, Shorty," Tony teased. "Never get to see enough of you since you left for S.H.I.E.L.D. training."

"I'm trying to get assigned back here again, but the new sub-director is a dick. He hates women, I swear."

"Why didn't you say something? I'll have the douche-canoe outta there lickety-split."

"No, Tony, don't interfere."

"Aw, you're no fun, Shortstop."

"I am fun. Just not by manipulating everyone I don't like. I like to get around under my own steam."

"Life's a bitch."

"And then you die, I know."

They fell silent. Tony got up and grabbed two cold bottles of water, tossing one to Hermione.

Sipping on it, she asked, "What the hell was that conversation I walked in on?"

Tony gave her the evil side-eye and didn't answer, getting up and wandering to the window, looking down at the specks of light and people far below. "Traffic sucks."

"Answer the question, Tony."

"I'm in the mood for cheeseburgers. Do you want a cheeseburger? I know this great place that delivers the best fucking cheeseburgers on the planet. I could have them here in like, twenty minutes."

"Tony."

"And then some fries and a Coke sounds perfect. Oh, I can't forget their kiddie special. I'll just throw the food out in that one, but the toys are awesome. I'll give the toy to Thor. He's funny about collecting those damn Happy Meal thig-a-ma-jigs."

"TONY!"

"WHAT?"

"Answer the damn question! And fuck ordering McDonald's. If you think they have the best cheeseburgers, you're deranged."

"Fine. Damn, darlin', I was trying to spare you the gory details."

"Don't bother. I put my big girl knickers on today. I can handle it."

He shot her another strange look, then away once more, toying with his cell phone.

"Okay. So. In a nutshell, I'm trying to get Barton laid. Easy, right? Tony 'The Playboy' Stark brings up a bimbo, Clint knocks a couple of nuts loose, everyone's happy, right?"

Silence.

Tony cleared his throat and continued. "So, for some reason, Lady Luck flipped me off, and Barton will be here in an hour, and I've got no one for him to fuck."

Hermione shrugged. "So? Call him and cancel."

"I can't!" Tony complained, the whine returning to his voice. "That makes me look like I can't deliver. I had to ride Clint's ass pretty hard to get him to go along with this."

"I would've paid to see that."

"Fuck off, Shorty. So I'm stuck. Got any leads?" he asked hopefully, acting crushed when she popped out, "Nope, aaaaaaddd that's my cue to leave."

"Shorty, wait!"

"No, Tony. I can smell the trouble brewing all over you, and I want no part of it."

Tony dashed in front of her. "Please, pretty, pretty please? If it helps, I heard Legolas is a demon in the sack."

"No, Tony, now move."

He did but followed her as she collected shoes, bag and light jacket, tossing her empty water in the recycle bin.

"I've got a rep to maintain!" he tried again.

"Not my problem."

"I thought you were my friend."

"Not THAT good of a friend." She'd neatly side-stepped him but managed to get cornered by the elevator.

"Friends don't let friends drink and drive."

"Friends don't ask friends to pity fuck their other friends."

"It's not a pity fuck! Clint's a nice guy!"

"I'm on break from dating."

"Shortstop. Listen to me. It's not a date. It's a roll in the sack. He's got some pretty ripped muscles."

"I'm not shagging Barton."

"He likkkeessss youuu," Tony sing-songed.

"I've met him exactly once. Isn't he married anyway?"

"Divorced."

"Same thing, too much baggage. Now move out of my way, or I'll hex you."

"Dammit Granger, come' on. Do me this one eensy-teensy favor. Pleeassssseee!"

"I'm going to count down from five, and if you haven't moved out of my goddamn path, your ass is going to make the acquaintance at the end of my wand."

"C' mon, Granger! Be a sport!"

"Five, four…"

"I'll owe you a favor!"

"Three, two-and-a-half…" she drew her wand. Tony looked at it nervously.

"Two favors."

"Two, one-and-a-half…."

"Three favors and the penthouse for a week."

"One…. One-half…. Anddd…." She raised her wand.

Tony snatched it and tossed the damn thing away. "Hold up! My final offer, I promise! Hope to die, cross my heart. If you say no deal, I respect you. I leave you alone."

"I hate you."

"Thanks, Toots! Okay. Four favors. Unlimited requests – no restrictions on the type of favor. Two weeks at the penthouse. All expenses paid vaca to England when you get time, and unlimited use of the company car for a year."

He paused, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped was a winning expression.

Hermione crossed her arms, tapped her foot, and narrowed her eyes at him. Finally, she countered, "Throw in a performance starring you – no cameras. In a bikini of my choice, pole-dancing at Thor's birthday party. A three-minute show. No nudity, no touching."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!"

"Take it or leave it, Iron-Face."

"That's humiliating!"

"K- Bye." She summoned her wand and Tony recanted.

"Okay! Fine! You win, I'll do it!"

"You'd better. I'm not letting you off the hook, Stark."

"Does this mean you'll do it?"

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Really?"

"Really really."

"I owe you, doll, you're the best."

"Now leave so I can shower and transfigure my dress into something more appropriate."

"Be nice to Clint, he's hurting."

"We're all hurting, Sherlock."

"No, really. Try to act like you're attracted to him. Fake an orgasm. Whatever it takes."

"God! Don't you have any dignity?" she said with disgust.

"No, but I'm flattered you asked. Will you be okay?"

"A bit late for chivalry."

"You sure?"

"Yes! I'm fine! Okay, so just leave! Barton's cute and cut and I'm sure it'll go great. Do NOT forget about our deal."

"Knock one out for me, Shortstop!"

"FUCK OFF AND GO!"

"I'm going! I'm going! J.A.R.V.I.S., I'm out. Get whatever Clint and Granger need, then lock up."

"Goodnight, sir."

The elevator bell rang, and Clint appeared, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, looking adorably rugged and nervous.

Tony jumped in and pushed Clint out with a hard shove.

"You kids have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Then the playboy was gone – finally.

The words running through both of their minds at that moment were, 'Annoying, nosy, and pushy little shit.'

Clint looked everywhere but at her. Finally, he cleared his throat. "So uh, you and me, eh?"

"I won't bite," she replied, leaning against a table, arms folded.

"Say what?"

"It's polite to look at the person you're addressing," she scolded mildly.

His head snapped around. "Yeah, sorry. Nervous, you know?"

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Clint looked unsure, so she said, "I'm going to shower. I'll be out in ten, relax, get a drink or something."

"Okay."

He stood rooted to the spot until she disappeared into the bathroom than ran to the sink behind the bar and promptly threw up.

Cleaning out his mouth and downing three shots, Clint looked at himself in the mirror. "Okay. It's cool. Liquid courage, but no more. Whiskey dick is NOT cool. And there's a fucking sexy, hot, British agent naked in the shower. You can do this."

The bathroom door opened and closed, and his heart leaped into his throat. Very low, he whispered to himself quietly, "I cannot do this. God, please don't let me barf up the alcohol."

Hermione sensed his distress by the hard, hunched set of his shoulders and decided to make a move. The guy looked ready to bolt, and after all of the effort she'd put in, a hot shag was looking better and better by the minute.

Clint jumped when she wrapped her arms around his middle from behind.

"Hi," she said into his back. "You okay?"

Clint closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and trembling stomach. "Yeah, It's just, gimme a sec. This isn't how I normally treat women."

Hermione laughed lightly against his shirt. "No problem. I agreed to it, so I know this is a one-time thing. You're fine."

'Oh, shit, she feels nice back there,' his brain supplied.

She kept talking, "Life's little adventures, sure to keep things interesting."

"Sure." Bravely, his rough hand lowered to cover hers. "You good with this?"

"I'm not following you," she said, trying hard to be patient. He really was adorable, if too much of a gentleman.

"Sleeping with a guy you hardly know?"

She squeezed him a bit, her cheek still against his back. "You're not a total stranger. I trust Tony, and Tony trusts you."

"Tony Stark is a crazy bastard with even crazier ideas."

"So? Look. If you don't want to do this, it's fine, no pressure."

Clint was quick on the uptake to deny. "No! I mean, I do want to do this. I'm just so nervous I'm going to fuck up."

"Go slow, then. Let's just, take things a little at a time. See what happens. Nature taking its course and all that."

"Okay. I can do that, I think."

But he didn't move, so she goosed his ass.

"Hey!"

"I thought you were trying to turn into a statue."

"I'm sorry. I'm lousy at small talk."

"Then, don't talk. Just kiss me. You do want to kiss me, yeah?"

That seemed to get his attention and grow a pair of balls, his entire attitude shifting from scared and hesitant to interested, horny male.

"Hell, yes. I can't stop thinking about what you looked like in the shower."

"Maybe we'll try that later. For starters, let's sit on the sofa."

Now Clint felt more comfortable. If she took control, he didn't need to overthink, which was a good thing, because the rate at which the blood was leaving his brain left him a bit light-headed.

He sat down slowly, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights when she brushed past his knees.

"Relax," she soothed, then in one smooth motion, pulled her shirt over her head, torso clad only in a black lace bra.

"Holy. Shit." Clint exclaimed softly, his eyes finally on the prize, not looking at all shy now.

"Thank you, I think." She smiled, then boldly pushed his chest, so he was sat against the back of the sofa cushions, then straddled his lap in one smooth motion.

"Touch me," she urged with a bit of husk in her voice. Leaning in and closing her eyes, she placed soft, chaste kisses at the corner of the archer's mouth.

When Hermione ran a hand through his hair, Clint's motor kicked into gear, because his hands turned into an octopus, all over her back, bottom, thighs, belly, and breasts.

He embraced her, opening to her kissing, tongue snaking out to join the tangle of hers.

She let out a sexy moan and ground down into his lap, pleased with the substantial bulge hardening rapidly beneath her hot core.

"You call this slow?" he gasped out between kisses.

"If I had my way, your pants would be off and my mouth over your cock. So yes, this is slow."

"Jesus Fucking Christ. Where have you been all my life?"

"In England."

The banter ended, and he urged her to move, abrading her sensitive skin under her skirt, pulling her over his impressive erection.

Highly sensitive and primed from months of celibacy, Hermione's first orgasm was on her swift and hard, and she cried out into his mouth, wetting through her panties with release.

"Oh, God, I needed that," she sighed, slumping against him.

Looking into his eyes, she could tell he was overwhelmed and ready to either lose his first load or run screaming.

Moving quickly, she took the initiative. "Your turn!" Then gave him no time to think or react, wandlessly vanishing his clothing and the rest of hers, startling him badly.

Clint almost dumped her off his lap in surprise.

"What the fuck! How did you do that?"

"Settle down. I'm a witch, remember?"

He seemed to think about it for a second and relaxed minutely. "Uh, no, but that explains a lot."

"Are you doing okay?"

"Granger, I'm going to blow about thirty seconds after I'm inside any part of you and you're going to think I suck."

Hermione laughed then, shaking out her long, thick curls until they splayed down his chest. Clint closed his eyes.

"No, you just need to get the easy one out of the way. Then we'll work on earning the rest."

He nodded helplessly, and her heart went out to the guy. Tony must have really annoyed him to death to get the modest man set up like this.

"Let me help you with this," she purred, sliding down in one move to her knees in the plush, decorative carpeting, taking his big cock into her mouth before he could protest.

"Oh My Fucking God!" he exclaimed, and closed his eyes in ecstasy, gently guiding her lips rapidly over his dick.

Sure enough, thirty seconds later, as predicted, Clint ejaculated strongly into her mouth, ready to die happy. Then his pleasure rocketed to the ninth power, feeling her swallow his entire load without missing a drop.

"Mm, nice, Thank you."

"You're thanking me?" he asked her incredulously.

"Yes. You are fucking hot. I can't wait to fuck your brains out."

"I think I'm either dreaming or the luckiest bastard alive right now."

"Probably a bit of both. Now hush. There is some serious fucking afoot."

Taking his soft dick in hand, Barton's breathing hitched as she slowly, gently worked it, playing with and licking his balls until the entire area swelled with desire, cock so hard it pressed up against his lower abdomen when she let it go.

This was the turning point. 'Shy, nervous' Clint fucked off, and 'confidant, dominant, horny' Clint kicked in.

"God, you've got a beautiful body. I love your tits. I've never been sucked like that before."

"My turn. How do you want me?"

"Seriously? Lay on the floor. I want to see your face the first time you come on my cock."

"Shit, Barton. Keep talking dirty to me like that, and I'll let you do whatever you want."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Now fuck me."

After she lay in position, he settled over her, preparing himself by lubing his length through her soaked folds. "So fuckin' hot. I'm hard for you, so fuckin' hard my balls ache. Sexy fucking woman. Gonna fuck you and come so hard in your beautiful body."

Clint stiffened, an aggravated look on his face. "Shit. I didn't bring any condoms. Goddamn. How could I forget the rubbers?" He started to get up, and she pulled him back down, much to his surprise.

"Stop!" she commanded, and he froze instantly. "Witch, remember?"

He nodded.

"I'm on oral contraceptives and cast a contraception preventative on my womb and ovaries. I'm clean, and if my word is enough for you, and you're clean, I trust you to be honest with me."

Clint studied her hesitantly, unsure. It was the type of situation that led to the conception of his first kid. But then his ex-wife wasn't a witch in the real sense of the word.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I want you so much."

"Me too, baby. Okay, well, if you're sure, here we go."

Clint closed his eyes and eased the head of his thick cock into her vaginal opening, and they both let out strained noises of pleasure. She gasped when his hips hitched forward, sliding into her all the way.

"I can't stop, Granger, I have to move," he stated with near-desperation.

"Fuck me," she urged him again. "Give it to me good and hard. I want to feel you for days."

Clint felt like his head was going to explode. This was a new level of erotic, and he fucked her like a demon-possessed, her legs over his well-muscled forearms, their pelvic motions growing slippery and noisy.

The indecent squish of cock in a juicy cunt drove him mad, her heat and tight pussy spurring him on faster.

"Granger, fuck. Oh, holy fuck. I'm gonna come – I'm sorry," and he threw his head back, lungs heaving as he shoved another substantial load inside of her. "So good, fuck, so fuckin' good," he whispered.

When Clint was spent, he immediately lowered his body until his mouth was at her clit. Inserting two fingers into her messy pussy, he sloshed through the mix, stimulating her to the best of his ability.

It didn't take her long. Hermione was already teetering on edge, and within minutes of his twiddling and clit-licking, she had a death grip on his short hair, pulling painfully at the roots. Barton didn't care.

He vowed to fuck, eat, suck, lick, kiss, and worship this goddess until she told him to stop. This was the hottest fuck he'd ever had by leagues and wasn't going to waste the opportunity, believing it was a one-time thing, so he thoroughly planned on getting his fill.

The girl let out a perfectly beautiful scream, shattering several of Tony's expensive collector shot glasses.

Suffocating him, she ground her pussy into his face, twisting for maximum friction, riding his nose, chin, and mouth like a hobby horse while her come leaked from her well-oiled cunt, squirting him in glorious ecstasy.

He caught as much of it as he could in his mouth, licking and sucking, stimulating her for all he was worth until she fell limp onto the carpet. Allowing critical respiration to push oxygen into his starved lungs proved most beneficial.

Clint was rock fucking hard again, amazed what this woman did to him – her effect on his libido completely insane.

"Gonna fuck you again," he warned her, glorying in the soup of slick they'd created. Gritting his teeth, jaw locked in ecstasy, Clint took a savage satisfaction knowing it was his come that he was fucking back into her.

If he hadn't already come twice, he'd have blown his balls again by now. But he was getting tender, his prick sure to be raw for days, unused to this much action.

Granger started responding, locking her ankles around his hips as he rhythmically slapped against her, glorying in the heavy slap of his ball sack against her sweet, sexy ass. Clint kissed her like it was their last night on Earth.

She worked her feet, pushing on his chest with her hands. Releasing her, gaze feral with lust, he watched her turn onto all fours and slap her own ass. "Fuck me from behind, Barton."

"Yes, ma'am," he countered, jamming his dick back into her in record time, panting hard at the vivid image of his cock streaked with the white evidence of her come all over his cock, balls, and lower belly.

"Oh, shit, you're gonna make me blow it again. You hot piece of British ass! Oh, Holy Fuck!"

His back locked, hips going into overdrive, licking the salt from her sweat on her back, perspiring a river onto Tony's expensive carpet.

"Almost there!" she gasped, voice rising an octave. "Harder, Clint! Bust me!"

Barton yelled, gripping her ass cheeks, insanely aroused, her flesh bubbling between his tightly clutching fingers.

His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he rejoiced to feel her cunt tighten and contract around him one last time, giving him permission to let go through the stream of come and screams of his name on her gorgeous lips.

Clint let free agonized sounds, desperate to release, the instinct to breed taking over as he primally let her juiced cunt milk him in a fist of velvet ecstasy.

Pleasure rising, he cried out, "Granger! Hermione! Such a good pussy! Oh – oh, fuck you all night – oh, shit. Yes, yes, yes."

His hips gave her a series of erratic thrusts, and then he threw back his soaking head, pulling tightly against her and holding himself there in a death lock, the orgasm erupting through him, longer-lasting and more intense than the previous two.

Clint was shooting dust at the point, but holy fuck, what a woman. He knew he'd always treasure this night of passion with her.

Coming down, he tiredly pulled out and collapsed next to her, pulling her body to him, sweaty cheek laid on his chest.

"Sorry. I'm done. That's all I got," he admitted when his breathing had calmed.

"Same. Yeah. I'm pretty raw."

"Me too."

"Let's clean up and raid Tony's minibar and fridge."

"Mmkay."

Instead, they fell asleep for a couple of hours, then shared an intimate shower, kissing slowly, deeply, like lovers, bathing one another. Then they ate in exhausted silence, too tired to talk.

At last, it was time to part ways. Two in the morning.

"Thank you. I had a really great time. You were fantastic. Phenomenal."

Hermione's stomach sank at the thought it really was just a one night stand. Clint was a fuck demon in the rough. She knew she would crave him now, but also that the feeling would pass if she worked enough overtime to ignore it until it faded.

"Yeah. You were great too. I'm happy we got together. I haven't felt this wonderful in a long while."

She walked back into the elevator, lifting her hand and giving him a little wave with her fingers.

He waved back, a short rise and fall of his hand, a smile and something more in his eyes that disappeared as the elevator doors closed on Hermione.

Immediately Clint swore at himself for letting her go without asking her out again. She'd really looked hopeful.

Then, later, he decided it was for the best. She was too good for a damaged fucker like him anyway. Clint fell asleep on Tony's sofa and left right before the asshole showed up for work the next morning.

The place reeked of stale sex, musky and pungent. Tony inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. "Smells like a successful night."

Grinning evilly, he paged over the intercom. "Thor, I need you in my office, five minutes."

Setting up two friends for an explosive night of sex – Golden. Pure, solid gold.

Embarrassing the God of Thunder – Priceless.

Tony may have been getting older, but he still had it. Waiting impatiently, his camera phone was ready the second Thor stepped off the lift, the smell hitting him almost instantly.

The video of his reaction went viral.

Huh. Gods were good for something, after all.

By the end of the following week, Tony was thoroughly frustrated and pissed off. His cappuccino machine was broken, another billion-dollar business deal had dried up and the investors turned international fugitives, and neither Barton or Granger would give up the dirty on their hot date.

It didn't help that he was still nursing a repaired nose after Thor broke if when Tony crossed the line the morning following the set-up and releasing the reaction to the internet. THAT had hurt.

And Granger had actually hexed him – HIM! Tony Fucking Stark!

It wasn't in Tony's nature to give up the ghost, but this week had kicked his ass up and down New York and mopped it clean with his ball sack.

The billionaire literally fucking gave up when he discovered his bar stash emptied for the third time that week.

"I'm going to KILL Loki! J.A.R.V.I.S.!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Is there a way to keep the God of Stealing All Of My Expensive Alcohol, out of it?"

"I am afraid not, sir. He is quite manipulative."

"Just fuckin' great."

"If I may, I do have a suggestion."

"Shoot," Tony quipped.

"If you were to stock the bar with cheap alcohol or non-alcoholic, sometimes referred to as 'sparkling,' beverages, it may serve as a deterrent to future raids on your property by the younger Mr. Odinson."

"Here they call me the genius. You're a rock star, J.A.R.V.I.S!"

"Thank you, sir."

A weekend away did wonders for Tony's spirits.

Rubbing his hands together, the following Monday Stark set about doing what he did best – meddling.

On Wednesday, Granger Apparated directly into his office and slammed a packet of paperwork right in front of his nose, causing him to jump.

"Fuck me, Granger! You aren't supposed to presto in here like that. Rules, remember?"

"Screw the rules, Tony. You never follow them anyway. I want to know what the fuck this is."

Hermione swept an arm across his desk, a variety of essential things spilling onto the floor. Then she shoved the file under his nose.

Tony put his hands up in surrender, eyeballing the mess, her unyielding, angry witch face, and replied, "Okay. Let's deal with this, shall we? It's not like I was doing anything else important."

"Now, Tony."

"Okay! Okay." He picked up the paperwork, glanced at it, and tossed them back to his desk almost instantly, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands onto his stomach. Then he gave her a sincere look as she pressed her lips together tightly in irritation.

"These are your transfer papers, Shortstop. You're now a very well-paid employee of Stark Industries. Welcome home."

"I warned you not to interfere. Did it ever occur to your over-sized ego that I may have been perfectly happy where I was?"

Tony blew her a raspberry, spitting slightly. "Come off it. You hated working for S.H.I.E.L.D. You love me, game over. Welcome back to the boys' club." He cockily held out a hand to her, and she grabbed it, squeezing with a measure of strength that belied her petite stature.

"Ow. Now you're hurting me," he complained, not pulling away.

"I'll back off breaking every bone in your hand when I'm satisfied with the answer to the question – What exactly are you expecting of me in my new role?"

Tony glanced desperately at his hurting hand, trying to gauge just how quickly he could overpower her.

Hermione casually observed his desperate calculations and squeezed harder. "I keep my wand up my sleeve. Try me."

"Ow! Dammit, Granger!"

"Talk, Stark."

"Goddammit! Okay! You have free reign to work on whatever you want. Unlimited resources, no rules, just try not to kill anybody important. Employee turnover is a bitch."

She abruptly let go of his hand and blinked several times in genuine surprise. "Really?"

Tony bent over at the waist, shaking some feeling back into the injured limb.

"Yeah. Really really. Fuck. I think you cracked something."

"Give it here you big baby."

"No. I don't need your help, meanie," he crabbed, standing up and sidling sway from her.

"Fuck's sake. Accio Tony Stark!"

"HEY!"

He bodily collided with her, and they fell into a heap, his protesting quite loud and persistent.

She firmly elbowed him into silence, spelling his hand better, dis-engaging herself from him and then righting the mess she'd made of his desk.

"You're evil, Shortstop. I never should have underestimated you."

"Quite right." She folded her arms under her breasts and cleared her throat when he stood, his eyes glued to her tits, guiltily flicking them to her face when he noticed her noticing him noticing her.

"It's not a crime to look," he said defensively. "Put your stick away. I'm playing nice."

"It's a wand, Iron-Face. Tell me how your hand is feeling."

Tony wiggled the digits, opening and closing his fist. "Not bad. I should put you on triage assignment next time we hit the field."

"Over my dead body."

"Was that a firm No?"

"Tell me where to get set up," she said, ignoring his smart-ass remarks. "I'll send you a list of shit I need. Don't make me wait and above all, don't make me regret this, Stark. I hate it when egotistical assholes try to manipulate my life. If I didn't like you so much, you'd be fish food. No one would ever find you."

"I believe you. Find Banner. Set up next door to him. I'll put a team on your supplies and staffing needs right away. A corporate credit card will be in your hand by the end of the day."

"Credit limit?" she countered.

"Don't worry about it. You'll never spend enough to hit the limit."

"Is that a dare?"

"Fuck, no. You win, Shorty. And I won't mention the fact that you fried my laptop."

"You just did."

"And this won't count as a favor."

"Tony."

"Yep?"

"Do you need a shovel?"

"No, why?"

"I figured you might need help digging yourself a deeper hole than the one you're already standing in."

"Oh, shit. Operation doghouse. Got it." Tony pretended to zip his lips, lock them and throw away the key.

Hermione blew him an exaggerated kiss, and he held a hand over his heart, staggering.

"You wound me."

"I will. Now leave me alone."

"Yes, Sergeant Shortstop."

As the elevator closed, Hermione cursed as Tony dodged her parting Stinging hex.

"Damn. He's almost as good at dodging hexes as Harry."

She put away her wand and went in search of Banner.

Clint shot Tony a hard, no-nonsense stare when the boss called him up to talk shop.

Catching on, Tony placated him. "I learned my lesson. I'm pretty fond of my family jewels, thanks. Ancient history."

Clint relaxed a fraction, raising his chin in acknowledgment.

"Banner's out sick. Some superbug, or something he was testing. I need your help with the quarantine."

"Wait a minute. Won't that make me part of the mandatory isolation period?"

Shit. Tony had been hoping Clint wouldn't pick up on that little detail until it was too late to protest. Why did his partners and employees have to be so damn observant?

"Well, yeah," he responded lamely.

"Can't you get someone else to do it?"

"Yes, but I don't trust anyone else in the building to handle it, and I can't wait for the clean sweep crew to get their heads out of their collective asses and bother to show up only God-Knows-When."

"I really hate you sometimes."

"Thanks. It's mutual. You gonna do it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Tony gave him an infamous crocodile grin. "Nope."

Tony watched the monitor in the security room, eating a donut and sipping some whiskey-laced coffee.

"That whole level is on lockdown, right?" he asked Bruce.

"Yeah. But it won't stop Hermione if she figures out what you did. I almost feel sorry for you. I mean, she's a sweet girl. Why did you have to meddle? All it does is piss her off. She's super fast with that wand."

Bruce rubbed his lower back ruefully.

"Shortstop? Sweet? That girl has been nothing but trouble from the first day I met her," Tony replied, his words leaking out from around a mouthful of half-masticated donut.

Bruce purposely dusted the crumbs off his shoulder so Tony would notice, shooting him a disgusted look. "Quit chewing over me. It's gross."

Tony snagged another donut. "Sorry. Not sorry."

Bruce scrounged in the donut box and came up empty. "Augh, come on, man! Couldn't you save me the Bearclaw? Those are the only ones I like!"

"You snooze, you lose."

"I think you're an even bigger dick then before you turned into 'humanitarian Tony.'"

"Probably."

Bruce decided to let it drop. Tony wouldn't apologize and chasing an apology wouldn't conjure another box of donuts.

"You're recording this, right?" Tony asked, leaning over Bruce, one hand supporting his frame leaning on a console.

"Yep. I have to 'cuz you put down on paper it's a level three biohazard lockdown."

"Nice." Tony rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Call me if things start heating up."

"This is wrong. I feel so guilty doing this to Hermione. She's going to hate me when she finds out you locked her and Barton together on purpose." Bruce really did look forlorn and disgusted, and Tony actually felt sorry for forcing him to cooperate with the scheme.

Tony grabbed Bruce by the shoulder and spun him around in his swivel chair. Bruce leaned back, his friend invading his personal space a bit too much.

"Granger won't KNOW about it if you keep your mouth shut, Bruce."

"She's probably the smartest person I've ever met, next to you. Don't you think she's going to figure out your little set-up? The girl's a frickin' bloodhound AND a witch. If you've ever been on the business side of her wand, believe me when I tell you that she won't leave enough of you to fit in a matchbox."

"That's what makes it fun." Tony let him go, turning back to the monitors.

"Is that it, Tony?"

"Is what it? What are you talking about?" Tony rolled his hand in a circle for Bruce to get to the point without actually looking at the other man directly.

"I mean, there's not enough danger and excitement anymore. You gotta go inviting it at the expense of your friends?"

"Those two are perfect for one another. I'm just helping them see it," the sarcastic man justified back to his friend.

"You can't force people together, Tony! It's not right. And I think you're lying. You aren't doing this for them."

"What do you mean? Of course, I am!" Tony bit back, Bruce now having his full attention.

"I call bullshit. I've known you too long. We -all of us- have been through hell and back together. You got addicted to the adrenaline rush, so now you're cooking up these hare-brained schemes to get a taste of it back."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Tony muttered irritably, visibly agitated, by the way he was avoiding Bruce's observation by pretending to ignore the other man's assertion was right.

"Yeah, I do. Don't come crying to me when Hermione and Clint castrate you."

"I'm not worried. Shortstop can't do her hocus pocus without this," and Tony plucked her wand from under his shirt, where he'd had it tucked into the waistband of his underwear. Then he smiled a 'cat that got the cream' smile at Bruce, twirling it in his fingers.

"I -I gotta go," Bruce stuttered, eyes big, glued to the wand.

"Not gonna stick around for the fireworks? This is better than cable. I just told you she can't do her witchy wiles without this sucker."

Bruce backed away towards the door. "I hate to break this to you, but she doesn't need that thing. She just uses it so people don't know she can cast without it. You know, incognito, secret skill-set."

Tony's face turned to ash. "Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit is right. You're a dead man. I ain't getting caught in the crossfire. Bye, old man. It was nice knowing you. Mostly."

Bruce bolted, and Tony ran after him a short way, shouting, "Bruce! Wait up!"

But Banner made Stark eat his dust, in his haste to put distance between himself and the man of iron.

Tony stood in the hallway, hands hanging limp at his sides, wand dangling uselessly from two fingers. "Well. Fuck a duck. If I'm meeting my maker, I might as well enjoy the show." He headed back into the security room and locked himself in.

Clint sighed, exasperated, as the bio-containment security kicked in. It sealed him on Banner's level for God knew how long.

Expecting to see personnel working to contain and seal the lab portion, Clint got a sinking feeling in his gut when the entire area was eerily empty the further in he went.

He knocked on the entrance to Hermione's lab door, which was propped open by a Hulk doorstop, addressing her. "Any reason it appears to be just you and me down here?"

Hermione turned, pleasantly surprised. She hadn't seen Clint since their erotic encounter and parting, but considered him part of her friend circle, given the intimacy of that encounter. "Come in. I'm just finishing up. To answer you, it's usually pretty quiet down here. Bruce and I actually, the only ones down here, most of the time. I only see him at meals on top of that. He keeps busy."

Barton frowned darkly. "Damn you, Stark."

That brought Hermione up short. "I beg your pardon?"

Running a frustrated hand through his short hair, Clint pounded a fist on an empty lab table. "Stark told me I was needed to head up a level three biohazard containment situation and that Banner was sick from an experiment that got out of hand."

"I'm going to KILL him!" Hermione muttered, slamming a few drawers.

"Get in line. The man with nine lives has just run out. We can tag team the murder."

"Sounds good to me, lead the way."

"We're locked in here."

Sunned with disbelief, Hermione leaned heavily against a counter. "You must be mistaken. Tony wouldn't do something that stupid."

"Well, believe it. It's just you and me for a minimum of forty-eight hours, mandatory. I set up and activated the containment myself. This floor is on level three lockdown."

"He's insane. INSANE!" she shouted, outraged. "Tony has taken this too damn far."

"You know why he'd prank us like this? I'm all ears."

Hermione stared at Clint like he'd grown three heads. "Seriously? Are all the men around here dense?"

"I take offense to that," Clint said mildly, clearly not offended.

"Then be offended. It's obvious."

"If you're not going to share the reason, Granger, at least blast us out of here or something."

"I left my wand with Tony. Said he wanted to study it."

"Stark's got your fucking wand? We are fucked now."

"Well, I think that was kind of his point," she hinted, urging him silently to figure it out.

Clint's jaw worked, tightening, then clenched. "That fucker has messed with my personal life for the last time. I warned him to mind his own fuckin' business!"

"The only person Tony listens to is Tony. Even then, it's touch and go. Prank's on you for falling for it."

Clint was silent a moment as she put the last of her stuff away. She shivered at the way Barton was staring at her like he was the wolf and she the prey.

"Is that all that was – us, I mean?" The archer indicated between the two of them. "This was a joke to you? Set up desperate, lonely Barton, and have a good laugh?"

"What? No! Why would you even say shit like that to me?"

"How do I know you're not in on this with that asshole? It's a bit of a coincidence, don't you think? You are working for S.H.I.E.L.D. one day, and suddenly, you're set up here? S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't let their agents go that easily. Transfers typically take weeks, months sometimes."

"Tony manipulated me."

"For what purpose? Why now? Why here?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know!" she cried defensively. "He said I had free reign, as long as he was making money."

"Convenient."

"Look, Barton. Clint." Here she touched his chest with the flat of her palm. "I wouldn't do that to you. I swear to you. Tony's a sick bastard. There must be something more going on than meets the eyes. The Tony I thought I knew wouldn't fuck his friends over like this."

"You can say that again," Clint agreed. "Then we're at an impasse. So now what do we do? Forty-eight hours on this level. Alone."

Hermione's brain went into detective mode. "Yeah. And a fully stocked fridge."

"Fucker thought of everything."

"Apparently."

"Do you think he's watching for our reaction?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

They both stood there awkwardly, the silent tension ballooning between them. Finally, Hermione spoke. "I might be able to break us out of here without my wand."

"Yeah!" Clint pumped the air with one fist. "Try it!"

Hermione paused, looking at him sideways. "You sure are in a hurry to get away from me."

Barton knew she was teasing, but it rubbed him the wrong way for some odd reason. He jammed his hands into his pockets. "Not really. I just thought you wanted to team up and go gut Tony."

"I do. But there's no rush."

Barton's head shot up. "You serious?"

"Completely."

That caught him off guard. "What about the cameras?"

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated, then placed her hands along a section of the wall. A crackling noise sounded, and she opened her eyes and grinned at him. "No peep show for Tony."

Clint grinned back at her. "I wish I could see the look on his smug face right about now."

"Priceless," Hermione agreed.

That awkward tension reappeared. Clint laughed into the silence. "This is stupid. Here we are, two adults that shared a hot night together. Acting like teenagers."

Hermione stepped closer to him. "Would you like an encore?"

His eyes widened, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "If you're serious, fuck, yes. You're the best lay of my life, Granger."

"Good. I didn't want to have to take no for an answer. I've been sexually frustrated for months, and the only time I felt better was the day after we screwed each other's brains out."

"I don't have any…"

"Witch, remember?"

"Oh yeah, right."

Clint shuffled his feet. "So how did you want to do this?" he asked.

Hermione boldly grabbed the front of his shirt. "Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't make this complicated. Just do what you did last time and you're golden."

"No problem."

Their coming together was no less frenzied than before. Each had secretly longed for more, and the chemistry between them flared to life brightly.

"I'm so attracted to you. Talk to me, I love hearing you speak, your accent," Clint requested, breathing hard already.

"What do you want me to say?" she teased as he grabbed her ass and lifted her onto a counter.

"Shit, doll, anything."

"How about, 'Oh, God,' 'Yes, more,' and 'fuck me harder,' and your name as a finale when I come so hard on your cock your head explodes?"

"That's a start," he growled back at her, moving in to kiss her as if his life depended on it.

"Granger. I don't know what it is about you. But you make me want to blow a load in my pants -again."

"Can't waste that, now, can we?" She pulled from his grasp and spun her ass around on the counter, then scooted forward, laying on her back with her head hanging off the edge. "Give it to me, love."

"I love how you think." Clint wasted no time pulling his rock hard prick out from its confines and sliding it into her mouth. His head tipped back as she sucked him in.

"Going to fuck your face, " he warned her gruffly, and she hummed her consent.

Placing his hands on either side of her head, mindful of not wrenching her neck, Barton moved over her hot mouth, cursing and spitting random epithets as he went.

Granger was stellar. "Where have you been all my life?" he asked her rhetorically.

Speeding up, he felt the telltale signs of impending orgasm already rising to the fore. "The quick nut's coming, doll. Suck it, oh fuck, yes yes, ahhhhhh!" he cried, aware enough not to slam down her throat. But it did take a fair amount of discipline to hold back, her superb suction pulling the come into her mouth as he finished.

Pulling out, he panted from exertion, groaning when she righted herself and swallowed all of his release.

"Take your pants off. I'm going to eat your sweet pussy," he commanded her, no longer shy.

Moments later, Barton's head was moving between her legs, the girl scrabbling for purchase with her fingers where there was none. "So good, Clint. Don't stop."

He didn't.

Barton licked, sucked, flicked, teased, pinched, tickled and lightly bit her until after fifteen minutes she called out, wailing, "Barton! Eat it! Shitttt Ummmmnnhh!"

In heaven, Clint kept working his mouth over her, turned on by her breathy cries, dirty talk, and his name on her lips. "Beautiful," he said into her pussy, consuming the last of her cream, then pulling her to sit, wildly sharing her tastes, both in a hurry to get naked but not wanting to pull apart from ravenous kisses.

They eventually had to stop briefly, shucking clothing at record speed, and coming together, hands and mouths everywhere at once.

There weren't very many places to sit, and none to comfortably lay down. The couple ravished one another while upright, Hermione working Clint's dick with one hand until he was hard again.

"Wrap your legs around me," he requested, then lifted and carried her to a wall as if she weighed next to nothing.

She did as bade, Clint apologizing. "I'm gonna bang the shit out of you, doll. Sorry in advance for the bruises. If it's too much, tell me to stop and I will. No questions asked. I respect a woman's no as no the first time."

This touched Hermione on a very personal level, and she felt a chip of her hardened heart fall away to let a little bit of Clint Barton slip in. Clint was so sweet and sincere, no guile or second agenda with him. What you saw was what you got.

Yum.

And what she saw, felt, smelled, touched and all the rest excited her as no man ever had.

The sincere emotion was so naked and raw in his eyes her shield cracked a little more.

Barton adjusted her and slipped inside, maintaining eye contact. It was almost too intense. HE was intense.

Like he'd read her mind, Clint spoke to her, lazily taking her up against the wall.

"This is going to sound dumb. But I think I'm falling in love with you."

Hermione closed her eyes, the hurt was so sweet. This man was a fucking treasure. Holding on more tightly, she told him, "Damn you, Clint. Fucking hell. I don't know how this happened, but I think I'm falling in love with you too."

Clint sped up, his thrusting short and hard, stretching her beautifully. "Be my girl," he blurted out impulsively. "Please say yes. I won't be able to think of anything else but you. I want you, more than I've ever wanted any other person."

"Shit!" she cried, his declaration traveling straight to her cunt.

"Say yes, Granger. Hermione," he drawled out, and she tightened around him, a wall of sound issuing from her throat, soaking his pelvis.

"Say yes," he demanded, more gruffly. "I want you. I'll treat you well. C'mon, Granger. So sexy. Be my girl. C'mon."

Clint was pounding her hard now, sweat pouring between them, slippery breasts pressed tightly to his lightly muscled chest.

"Say it. Say it," he chanted, starting to come undone.

His soaked, pounding cock made obscene, wet noises, filling the room with the potent musk of heavy sex. "I'm coming," he bit out, and gloried in her cry of, "Yes, Clint! I'm yours, your girl, oh, shit – coming!"

His semen filled her, hips wildly pumping, then slamming and holding tight, flesh locked in ecstasy.

Barton grunted roughly through each pulse, his cock being milked by her pulsing cunt, the girl giving herself to him.

And she had said yes.

FUCK. YES.

Granger was his girl, and Tony could fuck off. Permanently.

It was tricky, but Hermione and Hawkeye managed to clean up sufficiently until they could get a proper shower.

Just as Clint pulled on his jeans, the quarantine system chirped. "Level three quarantine has been canceled. Have a nice day."

This was followed by Tony bursting through the lab door and running over to them. He skidded to a stop at the death glares he received, and the state of dishevelment they were in.

Tony smiled broadly. "Cool. It worked."

"You've got a pretty big set of balls pulling a stunt like that, Stark," Clint bit out, emphasizing BALLS by very obviously pulling up his zipper.

Hermione stalked over and held out her hand. "Give it to me. Now."

Wand procured, she said in a low, calm, deadly voice, "The only reason you're still standing here is that I've just had the shag of a lifetime."

"Yeah. Thanks, Tony. Doll here is my new girl. Fuck with her anymore, and there won't be a warning before I hit you."

"Wow. You two? An item? Hot damn! Granger, do I still owe you for the deal we made?"

"Clint? Break this fucker's nose again."

"With pleasure."

CRUNCH!

"Shit, Barton! I just got that fixed! Ow!"

Clint turned to Hermione, trying to sound neutral as he asked, "What deal?"

"Tony owes me big for convincing me to have sex with you that first time."

"Classy, Stark. Really classy."

"What does he owe you, doll?"

Hermione smiled evilly at a bleeding and hunched-over Tony. "A lot. After today? Whatever I want."

Tony nodded in agreement.

"Let's get a shower, doll. I think I can go again. Later, Stark."

Tony moaned and clutched his broken nose but smiled through the blood as they left, nodding once more.

"I got two of my best friends hooked up. It was worth it."