Chapter 7: Last Stand Fuck
The high-pitched whine drilled straight into Jill’s skull, a relentless, mechanical scream shredding the fragile silence inside the armory. Sparks erupted in a shower of brilliant blue-white light where the laser scored the thick steel door near the lock, the acrid stink of vaporized metal cutting through the thick musk of sex and sweat. Each pulse of the beam cut deeper, etching a molten line that hissed and spat.
Clint’s reaction was instantaneous, primal. His grip on her hips, moments before holding her tight against him in the aftermath, hardened into steel. With a wet, sucking gasp, he pulled his softening cock free from her heat. Before Jill could register the sudden emptiness, the loss of connection, his hands were on her shoulders, shoving her forward off his lap with surprising strength despite his wound. She scrambled, palms scraping rough concrete, landing hard on her hands and knees amidst the scattered contents of the SHIELD medkit. A roll of gauze bumped her elbow, antiseptic wipes skittered away, the empty saline bottle rolled with a hollow clatter.
Her breath caught, panic flaring. Red light pulsed under the door, bathing the dusty floor and her bare legs in an infernal glow. She started to twist, to look back, but Clint was already moving, a shadow fueled by adrenaline and fury. He didn’t speak, just loomed over her, his movements sharp with predatory intent despite the wince that flickered across his face as his wound pulled. His hand tangled brutally in the fiery mess of her hair at the nape of her neck, forcing her head down, arching her spine. The other hand shoved her sweatpants and knickers roughly down past her thighs, baring her backside completely to the flickering red light.
The cold air hit her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off him as he knelt behind her. She felt the thick, hard length of his cock, already rigid again with a terrifying urgency, nudge against her slick entrance. He didn’t ask. He didn’t tease. He just drove forward, sheathing himself inside her to the hilt in one powerful, ruthless thrust.
“Fuck!” Jill cried out, the sound ripped from her throat, a mix of shock, pain at the sudden invasion, and a sharp, involuntary jolt of pleasure at the brutal filling. Her inner walls clenched instinctively around the thick intrusion, still sensitive from the last time. He was relentless, burying himself deep, his hips flush against her ass, the heat of his skin branding her.
His grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back further, arching her throat. His voice, low and vibrating with pure, feral aggression, rasped against her ear, nearly drowned by the laser's scream. "They want a fucking fight?" he snarled, the words rough gravel. "Fine. They'll get one. But you... you take this cock first. Take every fucking inch."
He pulled back almost immediately, dragging his thick length through her tight, clinging channel, then slammed home again. Harder. The impact jolted her forward on her hands, her knuckles white against the floor. Sparks from the door showered like malevolent fireflies, illuminating the sweat-slicked curve of her back, the powerful muscles of his thighs bunching with each punishing thrust. The obscene, wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the metal room, a counter-rhythm to the laser’s whine and the pulsing alarm light. He fucked her with raw, animalistic force, each deep plunge driving the breath from her lungs.
"Feel that?" he growled, his hips pistoning, his cock a hard, unyielding presence splitting her open. "Feel me claiming this sweet fucking cunt while they try to cut their way in? Mine. Say it, Jill. Say it while they fucking listen!"
He punctuated the command with a brutal thrust that pushed her forward, her chest scraping the concrete. She gasped, the rough texture against her nipples a sharp counterpoint to the deep, stretching fullness inside. The danger, the violation of the door being breached, the sheer, overwhelming dominance of his possession – it fused into a terrifying, electrifying heat low in her belly. "Yours!" she choked out, the word forced past her lips. "Fuck, Clint... yours!"
"Damn right," he hissed, releasing her hair only to grab her hip with crushing force, fingers digging into the soft flesh, using it as leverage to hammer into her even deeper. His other hand slid forward under her, fingers finding her swollen clit. He rubbed it hard, roughly, in tight circles timed with his savage strokes. "Gonna make you come on my cock while they burn through that door. Gonna feel you scream and clench around me while the world fucking explodes."
His words, filthy and raw, combined with the relentless assault on her clit and the deep, pounding penetration, pushed Jill towards a precipice. The laser whine reached a fever pitch, the molten line on the door glowing white-hot. Sparks flew in a continuous, blinding shower. She could smell ozone, burning metal, the musk of their frantic coupling, Clint’s blood, and her own arousal.
She was close. So close. The coil wound tight, threatening to snap under the dual onslaught – the physical violation of the laser, the violent claiming from behind. Clint’s thrusts became shorter, harder, grinding deep. His breath sawed in his chest, ragged and hot on her neck. "That's it... fuck... gonna fill you again... pump this tight hole full before we fight... come for me, Jill! Now!"
His command, the sharp pinch of his fingers on her clit, the final, grinding thrust – it detonated her. Her orgasm slammed through her like a physical blow, a blinding white wave of pure, agonizing ecstasy that tore a raw, ragged scream from her throat. Her inner walls clamped down fiercely on his invading cock, milking it, pulsing in frantic, involuntary spasms. She bucked wildly against his hand, against his cock, lost in the consuming fire.
He roared above her, a sound of primal triumph mixed with pain as her convulsions triggered his own release. She felt him swell impossibly larger, then the hot, thick pulse of his cum flooding her depths, jet after jet, triggering fresh, smaller aftershocks that made her sob into the dusty floor. He held himself deep, grinding against her ass, pouring himself into her as the world outside threatened to burn down.
As the last tremors shook them both, the high-pitched laser whine suddenly cut off. An instant of eerie silence. Then a deafening, metallic BOOM shook the armory door. The section around the lock glowed molten orange, then blew inward with terrifying force, showering the room with shrapnel and acrid smoke. A searing beam of pure energy lanced through the opening, carving a smoking scar across the concrete floor inches from Jill’s splayed fingers, the heat scorching her skin.
Clint reacted faster than thought. He ripped himself free from her with a wet, tearing sound, the sudden emptiness a shock, and threw his body over hers, shielding her with his back as debris rained down. A jagged piece of hot metal caught his shoulder, slicing through his t-shirt and drawing a sharp, bitten-off curse. He ignored it, rolling them both sideways behind the relative cover of a heavy metal weapons rack just as another energy blast seared the spot where they’d been tangled moments before, leaving a bubbling crater in the concrete.
Smoke stung Jill’s eyes. Her ears rang from the blast. She lay half-pinned under him, naked from the waist down, sweat and his release cooling on her inner thighs, the scent of sex now mingled with burning insulation and ozone. Clint’s face was inches from hers, streaked with grime and sweat, eyes narrowed to slits as he peered through the smoke towards the jagged hole in the door. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, pain etched around his eyes, but his expression was pure, hardened focus. The predator assessing the threat.
"Stay down," he rasped, his voice raw but steady. He shifted his weight, his hand pressing briefly, almost apologetically, against the fresh blood soaking through the bandage at his side. Then his gaze darted around the dim armory. It landed on a long, dust-covered case half-hidden under a tarp against the far wall. His eyes narrowed further, recognizing the shape. "Right," he breathed, a grim ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Time to return fire." He started to move, a low groan escaping him as he pushed up onto his knees, leaving Jill exposed and trembling on the cold floor. "Cover your ears, Red. This is gonna get loud."
Smoke clawed at Jill’s throat as she scrambled back against the cold metal rack, grabbing her discarded sweatpants. She yanked them over her hips, the fabric sticking to the wet mess between her thighs – Clint’s cum, her own slickness, gritty concrete dust. Her fingers brushed the familiar, jagged ridge of the arrowhead scar on her thigh, a cold echo of past violence slicing through the present terror. "Cover your ears," Clint gasped, already moving, a shadow limping towards the dust-shrouded case under the tarp.
The laser blast had carved a fist-sized hole in the reinforced door, edges glowing molten orange. A segmented, metallic probe, glistening with lubricant, snaked through the opening, tipped with a pulsing blue sensor eye scanning the smoky gloom. Clint ripped the tarp away, revealing a sleek, angular longbow case. He flipped the catches. Inside, nestled in black foam, lay a modern compound bow crafted from matte-black composites and gleaming metal, alongside a quiver of wicked-looking specialized arrows – razor-edged broadheads, compact explosives, tangled nets. His bow. Relief warred with dread on his sweat-streaked face. "Still here," he breathed, fingers closing around the grip with instinctive familiarity.
Another energy blast screamed through the hole, vaporizing a section of shelving where Clint had knelt seconds before. Sparks rained down on Jill’s bare shoulders. She flinched, pressing harder against the rack. Clint ignored the near-miss, his movements sharp despite the wince tightening his jaw as his wound pulled. He snatched an arrow fletched with crimson vanes – an explosive tip. Nocked it. Drew the string back in one fluid, powerful motion, the muscles in his back and shoulders corded beneath his torn shirt. The bow's cams clicked softly. He sighted through the smoke towards the probing sensor eye. "Eyes shut, Jill!" he barked, voice raw.
The thwump of the bowstring was startlingly quiet. The arrow streaked across the armory, silent and deadly. It punched through the hole, embedding itself in the unseen mechanism beyond the door. A micro-second of silence. Then a contained, concussive CRUMP shook the frame. The blue sensor eye flickered, died. A gout of oily black smoke and sparks belched back through the breach. The metallic whining from outside stopped abruptly. "Scratch one probe," Clint grunted, already grabbing another arrow – a sleek, needle-pointed penetrator. He pressed his back against the wall beside the mangled doorframe, bow held low and ready, listening intently to the muffled shouts and scrambling noises outside. His chest heaved; the fresh bloom of blood on his bandage was spreading, dark and wet.
Jill saw the tremor in his hands, the grey pallor deepening beneath the grime. The fever was winning. "Clint, your side—" she started, pushing off the rack, reaching for the medkit spilled across the floor.
"Later," he cut her off, eyes never leaving the breach. His gaze flickered to her for a fraction of a second – taking in her disheveled hair, the sweat drying on her skin, the fear warring with determination in her grey eyes. That spark, her defiance even now, ignited something desperate and primal in his gut, cutting through the pain fog. "Need one more thing before they regroup," he rasped, his voice dropping to a guttural whisper thick with something besides pain. "Need to feel you alive under me. One more time. Now." It wasn't a request. It was a raw, vital need, a defiance screamed against the encroaching death outside the door.
He abandoned the bow, letting it clatter against the wall. Stalked towards her, ignoring the fresh agony flaring in his side. Smoke swirled around his legs. Jill froze, the antiseptic wipe in her hand forgotten. The hunger in his eyes was terrifying, feral, yet underscored by a terrifying fragility – the look of a man clinging to the only thing anchoring him to life. He reached her, his good hand tangling possessively in her hair again, not painfully, but with absolute ownership. His other hand ripped the waistband of her sweatpants and knickers down her thighs once more, exposing her flushed, still-swollen sex. The smell of their earlier coupling, musky and intimate, rose between them, stark against the stench of burned metal.
"Turn around," he ordered, his breath hot and ragged against her temple. "Hands on the rack. Now, Jill." The command brooked no argument, laced with a desperate urgency. She obeyed, the cold metal biting into her palms, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She braced herself, arching her back instinctively, presenting herself to him. The arrowhead scar on her inner thigh seemed to pulse. Behind her, she heard the rasp of his zipper, the rustle of fabric. Then the thick, blunt heat of his cockhead pressed insistently against her slick entrance. He was already fully hard again, a rigid, demanding presence. He didn't tease. Didn't ask permission. He just gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and shoved himself inside to the root in one powerful, claiming thrust.
"Fucking hell!" Jill gasped, her fingers tightening on the metal rack, knuckles white. The sudden, deep invasion stretched her, filled her brutally. She was still sensitive from before, and the roughness sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain radiating through her core. He was impossibly deep, his cock a hard anchor inside her trembling body. He held himself there for a second, buried to the hilt, his chest pressed against her back, his groan vibrating through her. "So damn tight," he choked out, his lips against her shoulder blade. "Wet. Hot. Mine." He punctuated each word with a shallow, grinding thrust, making her whimper.
He pulled back slowly, dragging every ridge of his cock against her inner walls, then slammed forward again. Hard. Relentless. His rhythm was fierce, desperate, each powerful drive pushing her against the unyielding rack. The metal rattled with their movements. Smoke stung her eyes. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her bare back. His hand left her hip, sliding around to fist her breast through her thin undershirt, squeezing roughly, pinching her nipple. "Feel me, Jill?" he growled, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, grinding deep. "Feel this cock splitting you open? While those fuckers try to crawl through their hole? This is real. This is now. This is us."
His filthy words, the brutal possession, the sheer wrongness of it amidst the chaos, ignited a firestorm within her. Fear melted into molten need. She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, arching her spine to take him deeper still. The rough denim of his trousers scraped the backs of her thighs. "Harder," she gasped, the word ragged. "Fuck me harder, Clint! Make me feel it!" Her inner muscles clenched down fiercely around his invading length, milking him, demanding more.
"Christ, yes!" he snarled, his fingers digging into her breast, his other hand gripping her hip like a vice. He pounded into her, driving with all the strength his wounded body could muster. The wet slap of skin, their harsh, panting breaths, the distant shouts from the corridor – it was a savage symphony. He shifted his angle slightly, driving upwards, hitting that deep, sensitive spot with devastating accuracy on every plunge. Jill cried out, a sound ripped from deep in her chest. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. The coil wound impossibly tight. "That's it... take it... take every fucking inch... gonna make you come... make you scream for me while they bleed outside..."
He was close. She could feel it in the tremor running through him, in the erratic, jackhammer thrusts, in the swollen thickness pulsing inside her. His thumb found her clit through her sweatpants bunched at her thighs, rubbing hard, frantic circles. The double assault shattered her. Her orgasm detonated, a white-hot cascade of pure, brutal ecstasy that locked her muscles, arched her back impossibly, and tore a raw, guttural scream from her throat. Her cunt clenched and spasmed violently around his cock, waves of sensation crashing over her.
Her convulsions triggered his release. With a roar that echoed off the metal walls, Clint buried himself to the hilt, grinding hard. Hot jets of cum erupted deep inside her, pulse after thick pulse, flooding her core, triggering fresh, smaller aftershocks that made her shudder against him. He held her tight, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, his body shuddering as he emptied himself. They stayed locked together, breathing in ragged, shuddering gasps, the smell of sex and sweat thick in the smoky air, clinging to the fading echoes of her scream.
Silence. For three heartbeats. Then, a different sound shattered the stillness from the corridor: the high-pitched, oscillating whine of multiple energy weapons powering up. Not a probe. Soldiers. Reinforcements. Clint pulled out slowly with a wet gasp, staggering back a step. He swayed, his face grey, hand pressed hard over the saturated bandage, fresh blood seeping between his fingers. His eyes met Jill's, wide with shared terror. They were coming. In force. He turned, lurching towards his discarded bow, his movements heavy with pain and exhaustion. The arrowhead scar on Jill’s thigh felt like ice.