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Technically, the dog park didn’t open until 6 A.M.
That said, Clint was on a first-name basis with most of the street vendors, so it was unlikely they’d complain. He waved to Thiru who lifted a hand in greeting as he and Lucky jogged past, turning the corner onto Lafayette. There was a precinct that faced the street on the far end of the park, but the cops there always seemed happy to turn a blind eye. Clint figured they had better things to do then harangue a guy playing fetch with his dog a little too early.
Or, well, two guys. Apparently.
In the early morning light, Clint caught the flash of a neon orange frisbee as it sailed through the air. A yellow lab chased after it, jumping and twisting to make a spectacular catch. Clint paused and watched the dog lope back to a broad, hooded figure, politely dropping the disc at their feet. He sighed. Well, they were already here.
He picked out a bench and sat down. Lucky stared up at him calmly, a soft thump of his tail the only thing to reveal his excitement, and Clint slid the service vest off with a grin.
“Ready for some play time, boy?”
Clint took a moment to eye the other man and his dog warily. He preferred coming early to avoid badly behaved dogs and people, but the lab and his owner seemed alright. Clint pulled a tennis ball out of his jacket, took a few steps, and threw.
The sun continued to rise. Lucky’s coat gleamed as he ran back and forth, almost red-gold in the morning light, and a warm rush of pride bloomed in Clint’s chest. Indistinctly, a shout rang out, and Clint turned back to look over his shoulder.
The frisbee smashed into his nose with a dull thud. Clint flailed, stumbling back, and landed flat on his ass.
“≡≡≡! ≡≡≡≡≡≡?” came a panicked-sounding voice.
Clint moved his hands away from his face and blinked. A man in a soft gray hoodie was staring down at him, his eyes wide and alarmed.
“Huh?”
“I said, are you okay?” the man asked again.
Clint gingerly felt his nose. “Yeah. I’m fine, bro. Nothing’s broken, it’s cool.”
“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that.” This close, the man’s scent drifted easily, sharp and sour with worry. Omega. No surprise there. Even in the hoodie Clint could tell he was built like a brick shit house. “Why do we even yell ‘heads up’ anyway? When we want someone to duck? It’s stupid.”
“Well…” Clint laughed and gestured to his hearing aid. “I might be a special case.”
The omega flinched and his scent intensified even more, turning acrid. It burned Clint’s throat a little. “Shit. Sorry,” he said. His fists clenched and this time Clint was surprised—one of them was metal. “I’m an asshole.”
“Nah, like I said man, it’s cool. Don’t sweat it.” Clint tried for a reassuring smile. “Not like it’s something you can tell just by looking, you know?”
Clint glanced at the bit of metal prosthesis that poked out of the man’s sleeve.
“Yeah,” the omega replied, face glazing over strangely as he looked up. Clint followed his gaze. A helicopter was overhead, low enough that Clint could make out the droning sound.
The scent was razor-sharp now, biting at Clint’s nostrils, and his instincts began to stir. Whoever this omega was, all the bells in Clint’s head were now clanging. Loudly. He swallowed hard as his mind began to race through possibilities. A stranger, and an alpha stranger at that, was probably the last person this dude wanted to talk him out of a panic spiral. But hell, Clint couldn’t leave the guy like this. He had to do something.
“Hey,” Clint said, soft and uncertain. finally taking note of the yellow lab that had been glued to his owner’s side throughout their exchange. The dog was licking and nudging his owner’s hand with an insistence Clint recognized, and realization finally dawned.
“Hey,” Clint said again, louder, and the omega startled out of his trance. “Want to sit down with me?” Clint asked, patting the ground invitingly.
The man nodded. No sooner had his ass hit the ground did the dog climb into his lap, licking his face encouragingly, and Clint gave himself a mental high five. He twisted to the side to pet Lucky, allowing the man a modicum of privacy. Clint scratched Lucky behind the ears and waited patiently. Within minutes, the panicked scent had slowly faded away and with it, a tension Clint hadn’t known he was carrying.
A hand tapped on his shoulder. Clint turned back with a smile.
“I’m good now,” the man said. “Thanks.”
“Glad to hear it,” Clint replied. “What’s his name?”
“Steve. And I’m Bucky.”
“Clint,” he said. “This is Lucky. Nice to meet you.”
Bucky grasped his hand in a firm handshake. “Pleasure’s all mine.” His eyes flicked across Clint’s face with a shy, teasing smile, and Clint’s stomach fluttered. “Sorry for losing it for a second there.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Clint said, waving a dismissive hand. “Happens to the best of us.”
Bucky eyed him curiously. “I took off Steve’s vest to play,” he said, nodding to the other end of the park where it lay in the grass. “How’d you know?”
Clint rubbed his forearms and shot him a lopsided grin. “I do some part-time training actually.”
“No shit?”
Lucky, who’d been very patient throughout their interlude, deposited his slobbery tennis ball in Clint’s lap and cocked his head expectantly. Clint wrinkled his nose and Bucky laughed, rich and full-throated.
“Yup.” Clint flung the ball toward the other end of the park and watched Lucky tear off in pursuit. “Assistance dogs are like what, fifteen grand, right? Insurance wouldn’t cover it and I didn’t have that kind of cash, so I just decided to do it myself. Lucky was my first, but I’ve trained a few others since. Mostly for buddies and friends of friends, you know, nothing special.”
Bucky’s lips were curved in a smile when Clint turned back to listen to his reply, and Clint found himself instinctually leaning closer.
“That’s awesome, man,” Bucky said. “Yeah, it was a bitch to get Steve. VA made us jump through so many hoops.”
Ah, so he was a veteran. Plenty of omegas were—with such sharp instincts and strong bodies they tended to rise up the military ranks quicker than other dynamics. Clint had grown up reading comics about inferno squads, some of the more violent ones starring pre-heat omegas who tore the enemy limb from limb. If his life had turned out differently, he might’ve ended up in the military too. But then the accident had deafened him and he’d presented as alpha anyway, so it’d probably worked out for the best.
“What do you do now? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m a baker,” Bucky said.
“Specializing in the pastry arts, huh? I like it.” Clint grinned and pointed to his face. “Does this mean I get something sweet for my troubles? A little le pain for my pain and suffering?”
Bucky tossed his head and snorted, a wisp of hair falling over one of his eyes. The sun was now good and up, and Bucky’s face was devastatingly handsome in the full light. “You’re terrible, but yes.” His gaze swept over Clint’s face thoughtfully, a measured precision that made Clint’s skin tingle. “Can I give you my number? I gotta take Steve home for breakfast, but I do want to make it up to you.”
Clint passed his phone over and watched Bucky type his contact information in, grinning when he added a flying disc emoji after his name. Bucky stood then, towering over Clint with his full omega presence, and Clint’s mouth went very dry.
“See you around,” Bucky said with a wink.
Clint’s lips parted. Unceremoniously, the wet tennis ball was once again dropped into his lap, but Clint made no move to throw it. Instead, he stared openly as Bucky swaggered away. It seemed patently unfair for someone so gorgeous to have such an outrageously perfect ass, but hell.
He grinned down at the new contact in his phone and figured life could be worse.
—
Clint pulled his fingers away and let out a moan of frustration. His body, which had been humming with a pleasant anticipation just moments ago, went taut as the promise of satisfaction evaporated. He swallowed and fought back an absurd urge to cry.
Pulling the mold out of the refrigerator, Clint took a deep breath and sighed. He thumbed open his phone, brought the chocolate next to his face, and pouted for the shot. The reply was swift.
Bucky 🥏 : aw
Bucky 🥏 : it’s just sugar bloom. it’s still good to eat don’t worry
Clint perked up. He broke off a piece of the white, dusty chocolate and popped it into his mouth.
Clint: Mmm you’re right
Bucky 🥏 : i always am
Bucky 🥏 : just means too much moisture. i’ll help you next time i come over
It had only been a few months, but Bucky always seemed more than happy to help Clint with his culinary pursuits. It probably wasn’t fair, since Clint was nowhere near as knowledgeable in anything comparable, and he felt obligated to meet Bucky halfway. But Clint did know a lot about a little, and so far he’d managed to teach Bucky a bit of ASL and how to shoot a bow, and he was working on getting him to sign up for an aerial silks class at the community center next month. Spending time together felt natural. Easy.
It had been a long time since Clint enjoyed being in someone’s company as much as he enjoyed being around Bucky. The fact that Bucky continued to ask him to hang out was baffling. Clint was certain that one of these days the other shoe would finally drop.
Clint: So what are you doing right now?
Bucky texted back a photo and Clint scoffed. Bucky’s metal hand held the phone while his other arm curved upward in a bicep flex. The gym mirror was dirty, but not dirty enough that Clint couldn’t make out Bucky’s smug smile.
Clint: Anyone ever tell you vanity is a sin Barnes?
The next picture was worse. Bucky’s shirt was rucked up, the hem held between his smiling teeth as he arched a brazen eyebrow. He rested one thumb in the waistband of his shorts, showing off a well-defined stomach and a tortuous flash of hip. Clint’s heart stuttered. A sudden flush of warmth spread outward across his body as he held his finger down to save the photo.
Clint: Disgusting 0/10
Clint: You’re honestly so hot I think I might throw up
Bucky 🥏 : thanks babe ♥
The warmth drifted up to his cheeks and Clint coughed. Fuck. Bucky could be such a tease. Sometimes Clint wondered if Bucky knew exactly how many of these photos Clint had saved, and then fervently prayed that wasn’t the case. It seemed… over the line. Clint had dated a few omegas—or been left by them, anyway—but he’d never been just friends with one before. He was lucky enough that Bucky seemed unfazed by Clint’s unworldly alpha self. The last thing he needed was to make Bucky uncomfortable in any way.
A pang of guilt rushed through his gut. Was it sleazy of him to be saving Bucky’s photos? Ugh. Probably. Clint deleted them in a fit of self-flagellation and ate another piece of his ruined chocolate, chewing intensely before pushing the thought from his mind.
—
The trail upstate was nice. Nicer still was the fact that Bucky had driven the four of them there.
“I still can’t believe you only pay two-hundred bucks for an indoor parking spot in Brooklyn.” Clint shook his head. “That’s a fucking steal, bro.”
“Yeah, but Nat is like family,” Bucky said. “I’ll be screwed if she ever moves.”
The day was warm with a good breeze, but unfortunately for Clint that wasn’t working in his favor. Bucky’s scent, pleasing on most days, was growing more tantalizing by the hour. Clint had first noticed it in the car, the smooth, honeyed quality that continued to deepen as they walked on, but now every waft left his knees loose and weak. He cast a furtive glance at Bucky, firmly aware of just how rapidly his heartbeat pulsed under the skin. Clint didn’t know why. Today, Bucky just smelled good.
They stopped at a fork in the trail to water the dogs and have a snack. Clint handed Bucky a protein bar and then raised his brows and handed him another after Bucky devoured the first in two bites.
“I’m starving,” Bucky explained. He poured half of his water bottle into Steve’s bowl and then quickly guzzled the rest. “We have another bottle?”
“Sure water’s enough for you?” Clint snarked as he passed it over. “Have you tried gasoline? Maybe mainlining some diesel?”
He nodded to Bucky’s arm and Bucky snorted, giving him a shove. Clint stumbled to keep his feet under him. Bucky didn’t know his own strength sometimes, but Clint wasn’t going to remind him. Honestly, being manhandled by an omega was kind of hot.
Bucky shot him a smug grin. “Hey, it takes a lot of energy to power this machine,” he said, flexing. He paused for a second, and then turned away from Clint to face the trail.
“What is it?”
Bucky made an aborted gesture, then stopped and wiggled his hands to the side—was that wait? Clint huffed a laugh. Clearly, Bucky needed a refresher on some of the signs they’d gone over.
About twenty feet ahead of them on the left fork, the trees rustled and a wild boar stepped out onto the trail. Behind his back, Bucky gave Steve a stay command. “Do you see that?”
Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, dude. I’m deaf, not blind.”
He turned to Lucky to give a command as well, but Lucky jumped, pushing his paws into Clint’s stomach. He made eye contact before stepping back and looking pointedly at the area behind Clint. A sound alert. Clint’s body flooded with adrenaline as he whirled around to find the feral pig charging toward them, curled tusks jutting out and its mouth open in a scream.
There was no time to come up with a plan. But there was no need to. Bucky stepped forward, his arm curling back, and struck as soon as the boar was within range. The animal was airborne—holy shit—for a few seconds before it landed in the underbrush. It promptly scurried away, seemingly unscathed.
“Oh my god,” Clint cried. “Did you just punch a wild boar? Did I seriously just see that with my own two eyes?”
Bucky shook out his hand with a grimace. “Well, I had to do something.”
“Dude, that was not a complaint. In fact, that may have been the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life.”
“Really?” Bucky brightened, rocking back on his heels. “You think so?”
“Uh yeah, really. I can’t believe you just punched a wild animal to save us. Can I swoon into your arms?”
“Arm,” Bucky said wryly.
Clint rubbed a hand over his face with a laugh, still jittery from the rush of epinephrine. “I keep telling you bro, your cyborg arm totally counts,” he said. “But seriously, what the hell. That thing flew like six feet!”
“I must be in pre-heat,” Bucky murmured. “And don’t exaggerate, it wasn’t that far.”
Pre-heat, of course. No wonder Bucky smelled so good.
“Listen, if you can’t exaggerate about punching a three-hundred-pound feral pig in pre-heat, then when can you exaggerate?” Clint stretched his arms wide.
Bucky made a face. “It was two-hundred pounds, tops.”
“Four-hundred, you say?”
This time when Bucky shoved him Clint didn’t bother to resist, falling into the grass with raucous laughter.
—
Two days later, Bucky sent Clint a text. He read it three times, trying to parse the meaning, his thoughts frozen and chest gripped in a vice of uncomfortably tight heat.
Bucky 🥏 : it’s here. what time you coming over
He couldn’t mean what Clint thought he meant. But what else could it be? Maybe Bucky really did expect him to come over. Maybe this was something alpha friends did for their omega friends, some kind of unspoken friends-with-benefits understanding? He pressed a thumb into the hollow under his brow, feeling a headache brewing. It was hard for Clint think clearly where Bucky was concerned, but this was definitely a new-found level of clueless.
Clint: Uh aren’t you in heat?
Bucky 🥏 : ha. you’re fucking hilarious
Well, that certainly didn’t help.
Clint was debating on how best to proceed when the screen lit up with a video call request. He propped his phone up on the desk and accepted the call.
Bucky was bare-chested, glistening with a fine sheen of heat sweat. Clint’s lips parted, his body temperature rising a few degrees of its own just at the sight. “Hey,” Bucky said, warm and smoky. Fuck, even his voice was heating up.
“Hey, yourself,” Clint replied. He cleared his throat. “So uh, you said you wanted me to come over?”
Bucky tilted his head and stared into the screen. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But if you’re not ready, that’s okay. I can pop some thermoregulators. We could just eat ice cream, hang out on the couch watching movies, that sort of thing.”
“Okay,” Clint said, already nodding in agreement. Then Bucky’s words sunk in. “Wait. If I’m not ready?”
“Yeah. I know we’ve been taking it slow.”
Clint blinked. “Taking what slow?”
Bucky looked at him like he was particularly slow on the uptake. “Us?”
“By us, you mean, like…” Clint flushed, second-guessing himself. “Like dating?”
Bucky studied Clint for a long, hot moment before finally lifting his fist. “Baking you treats, calling you babe,” Bucky listed off, putting up a finger for each. “Going to the movies, walking our dogs together… I’ve been sending you gym selfies, for fuck’s sake.”
“Well, yeah,” Clint admitted. “But I just thought you liked to flirt.”
Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “I do,” he said incredulously. “With you.”
“Oh.” Clint rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, which had grown impossibly hot. He tried to compose himself. “So, you’re interested in dating me?”
“Clint,” Bucky said, deadpan. “We’ve been dating. We literally went on a date two days ago.”
“What?”
Was he really this stupid? Wow. Yes, he was really this stupid.
A line appeared between Bucky’s brows, and he pressed his lips together. “You didn’t know. You didn’t realize—” He frowned, closing his eyes, and then opened them with a heavy sigh. “Alright, uh. Look. I’m gonna go.”
“No!” Clint knocked his phone over in his haste to pick it up. “Don’t go because I’m an idiot. Just, just give me a second here.”
Bucky waited. Patiently. Undoubtedly with more patience than Clint deserved. He swallowed against the thickness in his throat, and took a deep breath.
“Look, I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships,” Clint said. “It’s, it’s the whole romantic comedy thing, you know? Except I’m usually the loser that gets left for the other alpha at the end of the movie. Or, you know, the always-a-bridesmaid alpha friend.”
“You’re not a loser,” Bucky said quietly, and Clint gave him a soft smile.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re way out of my league,” Clint said. He looked away for a second, fidgeting with his zipper pull. “Never figured in a million years you’d want a knothead like me.”
Bucky shook his head, but his mouth was soft again and his eyes shone with a warmth Clint suspected had nothing to do with his heat. “You’re an idiot,” he said fondly.
“That was never in question.” Clint flashed him a hopeful smile.
“Glad that’s settled,” Bucky said. “Now will you get your stupid ass over here already so I can ride your knot until the cows come home?”
—
“You’re killing me.” Clint groaned. “You’re literally killing me, you sadist.”
Bucky’s mouth twisted in a sharp grin as he circled his hips, grinding down on Clint’s cock. Clint tracked a bead of sweat as it rolled down the side of Bucky’s neck, over his chest, continuing on through the hills and valleys of his stomach. It came to a final rest at the curve where Bucky’s hip met thigh, stopping near a delicious pattern of moles. Clint yearned to trace a constellation with his tongue. Unfortunately, his hands were currently bound to the headboard.
“You owe me two more rounds before you can get them back,” Bucky reminded him. “That was the deal.”
“I didn’t know I was making a deal with the devil—”
Clint hissed as Bucky threaded a hand in his hair and pulled, wrenching his head to the side. He raked his teeth over Clint’s neck and Clint shuddered, a full body tremble that raised goosebumps all over his skin. His scent glands were hypersensitive now, covered in bites and bruises from the last two rounds, and Clint was powerless to stop Bucky from taking advantage.
Not that he wanted to.
“Okay, but what are you?” Clint asked, little shivers of pleasure tingling up and down his spine as Bucky continued riding him with inhuman vigor. “Vampire? Succubus? Name thyself, creature!”
Bucky pushed himself back up, planting his hand in the middle of Clint’s chest and letting out a breathy laugh. “Aw. Am I too much for you, baby?”
Clint shifted beneath him, trying to find enough purchase to fuck up and into Bucky’s tight heat. “Yes,” he said, panting with effort. “But in a good way. Like, twelve percent too much. I could totally handle it if you’d just give me my hands back.”
Bucky rolled his hips again with a shark-like smile. Clint moaned helplessly, flexing his hands in the cuffs.
“I will. After three more rounds.”
Clint’s knot was beginning to fill. He chased it, muscles quivering as he fucked Bucky fast, hard, and deep. “Three? It was two more!”
“Four, you say?”
With a choked-off breath, Clint came. Bucky bent down, trailing his fingers up Clint’s arm and bringing their mouths together with surprising gentleness.
“I hate you so much,” he murmured against Bucky’s lips.
Clint felt the corners of Bucky’s mouth turn up as he unbuckled the cuffs. Smiling back into the kiss couldn’t be helped.