Dumpster || hawkdevil

ten

"Wow you're so sarcastic," Matt muttered to the man that was sitting next to him, watching a movie.

"Thanks," Clint refrained from laughing as he continued to watch the T.V.

"Tell me, what else does that mouth do?"

Clint turned his head, "You're just going to have to find out."

The movie was soon long forgotten.

Matt loved pushing his head into Clints neck, the smell of nature and black coffee, overwhelming, but lovely nonetheless. And he loved the way he could hear the way Clint's heart was pounding as he nipped his neck.

And he loved to let his hands roam all over Clints body, feeling any and every part of him that he wasn't able to see. He adored feeling Clints well sculptured body, every last muscle, and every last inch of it.

And if Matt thought that Clint was loud and noisy all the time, then this was a whole new level.

His stomach burned, and his heart pounded every time the whine left Clints lips, or the loud moan. And honestly? Matt was probably no better.

Matt couldn't deny that every last bit of him loved the way that Clints hands dug into his hair, pulling his head closer to him.

And he could barely stand it as Clint loomed over him, moving fast, panting into his neck as his lips pressed it, right arm wrapped tightly around his torso pulling him as close as possible, as his left hand worked lower, jerking to an even faster beat.

And Matt completely lost it when Clint did. Never had he known someone could make him feel like that before.