1. Over the Radio
“This radio channel exists so you can inform me when you've sighted the target, Agent Barton.” Phil attempts to channel all the disapproval he feels into his voice. “It is not the means for you to tell me that you like piña coladas or walks on a moonlit beach.”
There is a moment of stunned silence from the archer, positioned far above Phil's head and out of sight on a tower of scaffolding. “Did you just make a joke, sir?” He pauses, then seemingly can't help himself from correcting. Phil isn't surprised because the archer never stops running his mouth. “Actually, I do like beaches but I prefer a good whiskey. I don't know if that's in my S.H.I.E.L.D. file yet.”
“Eyes on the target, Agent Barton.” Phil snaps into the handheld radio.
“Yes sir.” There is only silence after that and Phil lets his mouth curl into a satisfied smile, filing the admission away in his head.
They reach Phil's small apartment and Phil lets Clint press him against the door, licking into his mouth. Clint rubs against his thigh, erect cock a hot line against Phil's leg. Phil's hands push up Clint's shirt and the man steps back to pull it off, mouth promising all sorts of filthy ideas.
Phil's lips quirk as he undoes his own belt because the marksman doesn't realize who he's taking to bed. He lets his hands rest on the wide shoulders as soon as they're in reach. Clint grins wickedly, nimble fingers flicking open each button on Phil's shirt and sometimes pausing to kiss the newly exposed skin. Phil lets one hand settle into the short hair, nails scratching gently over Clint's scalp before he pushes.
“Show me what you can do,” Phil says, interrupting Clint's constant flow of words. To his credit, the man catches on quickly and drops to his knees gracefully. Phil looks down as Clint carefully pulls his hard cock free and finally stops talking.
Clint is still talking as Phil backs him against the bathroom counter. The agent pushes gently and the younger man goes obligingly, sitting on the counter as Phil fills a bowl with warm water. He steps into the space between Clint's spread legs, setting a warm cloth on his face and is half-listening to the retelling of Natasha taking out two of the newest S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits during the afternoon's training session. Clint's voice drops almost a full register when Phil lathers him up, eyes trained on the straight razor that Phil unfolds in front of him a minute later.
Clint's words stutter to a halt when Phil presses a finger to his lips and murmurs, “Head to the right, please.” Phil draws the razor across his cheek, keeping the strokes careful and methodical. By the time Phil is tipping Clint's head back to shave his throat, the only sounds in the bathroom are Clint's quiet exhales through his nose and the measured scrape of the steel on skin.
Phil twitches the razor away from the lean line of Clint's throat as he swallows. The marksman hisses between his teeth, but there's no blood. Phil sweeps his thumb over the smooth skin to check anyhow. He finishes shaving with precise strokes and cleans the blade off one final time before folding it back into the handle. Clint turns the sink on and removes the last of the lather with a few splashes of water, patting his clean-shaven face dry with the towel Phil hands him.
Their gazes meet in the hush and Clint reaches out to draw Phil closer as he hops off the counter. He doesn't say a word, just cradles the older man's face in his hands before he kisses him in thanks.
4. Dinner Gala
“Look, I hate to be stereotypical because you know, I'm more like a two or three on the Kinsey scale than a six but did some people wake up blind? Did they dress in the dark?” Clint's tone is sarcastic and genuinely confused all at once.
Phil glances around at the other well-dressed members in attendance and promises himself he will not be taking Fury's place at another government-lobbyist dinner for at least a month. He sees a woman in a bright red floral print walking towards them, more like tottering on the heels she's obviously unaccustomed to.
“I could do a better job walking in those,” Clint mutters and Phil closes his eyes at the image that conjures up. Seriously, his lover needs to remember they are in public sometimes. He opens his eyes to see that Clint is opening his mouth again, gaze trained on the woman Phil spotted earlier.
The agent moves quickly when he realizes she's within earshot, reaching out to snag a mini-quiche from a suited waiter behind him. Clint's mouth hasn't even gotten past the first two syllables before Phil pops the food in his mouth, lips quirking in a smug self-satisfied smirk as the woman comes to a stop in front of them and Clint is busy chewing.
“Senator Horace, what a pleasure it is to see you here.” Phil greets her at the same time he steps on Clint's foot. He gets the hint and remains a silent form next to Phil as he dances through political bureaucracy.
5. On the Phone
“What are you wearing?” Phil swallows a sigh at the question. Obviously, sending Clint and Natasha to do reconnaissance alone wasn't the best idea.
“You can't be serious. I am not,” Phil corrects himself mid-sentence. “I will not have this conversation while I'm still in the office. We've had this discussion before.” He looks up to make sure the door to the hallway is closed regardless. He has a feeling Clint won't be deterred, and is proven right as soon as he thinks it.
“All right, I can already guess what you're wearing anyway. It's Thursday, so you have a green tie, maybe even the one I got you last month.” Phil can heard the smirk in Clint's voice.
“You might be correct.” Phil concedes, fingers smoothing down the silk that's wrapped around his throat as he presses a button on his phone so Clint is now on speaker. It's almost but not quite like the younger man is there in the room and Phil knows the walls are soundproof.
“Of course I am,” Clint's tone is cocky though he lowers his voice as he continues speaking. “So, just imagine if I was there and not in this sandy hellhole, all right? I'd take you apart, starting with my tongue in your-” Phil decides he's indulged Clint long enough, soundproof walls or not. He can wait the remaining six days for his boyfriend to return without resorting to this.
“I have paperwork to finish. Get back to work.” Phil distantly hears a feminine snicker in the background as he hangs up the phone.
The sounds Clint is making as Phil wraps his mouth around the head of his cock are little more than curses and begging at this point. Phil's kept him on edge for the past hour, using his mouth and hands to bring his lover to the brink and then pulling off just before Clint reaches the tipping point. He sucks, running his tongue over the slit and tasting the salty liquid. Clint's voice breaks in the middle of his plea for more, trailing off to a gasp as Phil swallows him down as far as he can.
“Oh god, sir, please, please, fuck.” Clint's hands flex and twist in the restraints tying them to the headboard. He trembles as Phil pulls off with an obscene, wet sound and reaches for a condom. Phil rolls it on his own achingly hard member, moving closer to Clint's body. He presses a gentle kiss to Clint's raised knee as he removes the plug from his ass. Phil pushes in smoothly as Clint gives a loud groan.
Phil wraps his hand around Clint's leaking cock, timing the strokes with his thrusts. Clint begs for release, words falling from his kiss-swollen lips even as his hips lift to meet each movement Phil makes. Phil feels the edge of his own orgasm draw near and pauses, tightening his hand on the base of Clint's cock. The man beneath him stills, blue eyes dark with arousal. Phil presses a careful kiss to his cheek, tasting sweat and the faint trace of tears.
“Just a little longer now, my boy,” Phil murmurs to him, resuming the strokes much slower than before as he thrusts deep. “You're doing so well.” Clint's response is a wordless cry as Phil's cock brushes over his prostate again and again.
“Please sir, please, god, oh please,” Clint is rocking into each slow thrust, voice hoarse. Phil adds a twist to his hand before pulling it off Clint's cock entirely. He thrusts harder into Clint, smoothing a hand down his trembling thigh as the younger man continues to beg.
“Come for me. Come on, love,” Phil orders, tone coaxing as his hips move quicker. Clint's back arches with the force of his orgasm at the words, body tightening around Phil's cock and bringing his own orgasm with two more shallow thrusts. Clint sinks into the mattress with a sigh, body shaking with the after effects. Phil pulls out with a quiet moan of loss from his lover and ties off the condom. He unties Clint's wrists, checking for any abrasions that might need medical attention as the other man presses against him.
Phil decides cleaning up can wait a few moments, lethargy setting in as he wraps himself around Clint. The other man makes a sleepy noise of happiness as Phil cards the sweaty strands of hair off his forehead. There are some moments in their life when Phil wouldn't stop Clint speaking for anything in the world.