"Clinton. I need to see you in my office."
Clint was confused. Steve didn't have an office. And why was he calling him Clinton?
Clint grinned and followed Steve. They ended up in their shared suite, but Steve had moved things around so that his desk was in the middle of the room. After Clint had entered, he locked the door behind him and sat on the edge of the desk. Steve had put on a whistle on a lanyard and was wearing his gym clothes. He was Coach Rogers.
Clint stood infront of Steve and put his hands behind his back. "You wanted to see me, Coach?"
Steve pulled open the drawer and pulled out one of the vintage girly magazines Tony had given him as a joke last Christmas. He held it up.
"Wanna tell me what this was doing in your locker?"
Clint shifted on his feet, faux embarrassed. He shrugged, giving his best innocent puppy dog eyes to Steve.
Steve waved the magazine. "This is against the rules, Clinton. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to kick you off the team."
"Aw but Coach! You can't! I -- I'll do anything!"
"There's nothing I can do." Steve sounded apologetic.
"Please, you just can't kick me off the team, the-- the big game is next week!"
The big game. They hadn't even determined what sport this was meant to be.
"Well..." Steve pretended to consider things for a moment. "Maybe you can show me what you do when you look at these pictures."
A shiver ran through Clint. It was so hot seeing Steve get all flustered acting out something like this. He bit his lip.
"Y- you mean you wanna see me jerk off?" Clint liked playing the innocent one. It made a nice contrast to the realities of his real past.
Steve nodded and fondled the silver whistle around his neck. He looked Clint up and down. "Uh huh. If you want to stay on the team."
Clint bit at the inside of his cheek as he took the magazine from Steve, opening it to the centerfold which was a rather beautiful Vargas illustration of a woman in a negligee. He opened the fly of his jeans and pulled out his already thickening cock. He fixed his concentration on the magazine, though women had never really done anything for him. He could feel Steve's hot gaze on him, knew without having to look that Steve was growing hard himself. That gave him enough steam to get started; he licked his hand before starting to jerk his cock.
"Yeah, that feels good doesn't it?" Steve asked. Clint looked at him, he was visibly hard in his soft gym pants, rubbing a hand over himself through the fabric. Their eyes met, Clint looking away in embarrassment but nodding all the same.
"Do you touch yourself often?" Steve was already getting breathless. All Clint was doing was standing there with his cock out, but it was wrecking Steve.
Clint shrugged again. "I guess."
Steve's eyes hungrily looked him over.
"You have a nice dick, Mr Barton."
"Um... thanks, Coach."
He continued jerking off, ignoring the magazine and staring at Steve's crotch.
"Do you wanna see mine?" Steve asked. So coy.
"Sure, I guess." Clint replied.
Steve pulled down his pants to let his thick cock free. Clint could almost taste it already. Steve started to jerk off, lazily though, like he wasn't all that bothered. He was more interested in watching Clint.
Clint kept up his pace, the magazine getting creased where he was gripping onto it with one hand.
"Have you ever sucked a cock before, Clinton?"
"No." Clint lied.
"Do you wanna suck mine?"
"Gee, I don't know, Coach." Clint did his best impression of a blushing schoolboy, looking everywhere else but Steve's dick.
Steve sighed. "I really don't wanna lose you off the team..."
That made Clint's cock throb. Being coerced into doing something he loved doing anyway was his favourite. Especially when it made Steve turn to jelly for being so naughty.
"Well, I guess. I -- I've never done anything like this before, Coach."
"That's ok, just kneel down infront of me and I'll tell you what to do."
Clint licked his lips and knelt as he was told, looking up at Steve expectantly, with a tailored look of trepidation on his face.
Steve gripped the desk on either side of him. "You just have to lick it, like a popsicle." Clint gulped before gingerly sticking his tongue out and licking gently at the shaft of Steve's penis. Just that tiny sensation made Steve groan.
"Yeah, like that, just, keep going."
Clint was pretty amazing at giving blowjobs, he had that on good authority, so it was a challenge to do it in such a way that he could plausibly be a teenager doing it for the first time.
He licked all over the shaft, ignoring the head and forgoing any of his usual technique. It was always better when Steve had to spell it out for him, just for the way it made him glow neon pink.
"Lick-- lick the head. Suck it."
Clint did as he was told, enjoying the salty precome taste that had gathered at the tip of Steve's cock. He sucked perhaps the first inch in before resuming his lackadaisical licks.
"Open your mouth, Clinton."
Clint pulled back and did so.
"Stick out your tongue?"
He stared up innocently as he did that, too. Steve's eyes were hooded and his face was shiny with sweat. He gripped his cock in one hand and ever so gently pressed into Clint's mouth. Clint didn't go to any effort to hide his teeth behind his lips or work at all the spots he knew drove Steve wild, just let Steve push in and pull out of his mouth.
"Can you suck it?" Steve asked, breathlessly. Clint hollowed his cheeks, making Steve shudder and reflexively buck deeper into his mouth.
"Oh, yeah, that's it. Now, m-move your head back and forth. And keep sucking."
Clint did so, maybe throwing in a few of his trademark tongue flicks right there to make Steve yowl. He pulled off when he could tell Steve was getting close, to look up and ask, "am I doing it right?"
"Oh yeah you're really good. So, so good, Clint. Clinton. Don't stop, ok?"
Clint went back to it, Steve resting his hand on Clint's head, not offering any force but lending an extra air of possessiveness and power to the proceedings.
"You should -- swallow -- when I come. That's how to be -- really good." Steve panted. Clint nodded on an upstroke. Steve, such a pervert.
He looked completely wrecked now, and it was only a few more passes until he came with a grunt, Clint pulling off so he could make a show of playing with the cum in his mouth before swallowing it down. Clint had come on the carpet moments earlier. Steve slumped over, head hanging down infront of his shoulders.
Clint licked at some of the cum on the corner of his mouth and bit his lip once again. "Did I do good, Coach? Am I still on the team?"
Steve huffed a laugh, pulling Clint up to kiss him. "Yes, you're still on the team." He hugged him tightly. Clint grinned. "Am I your star player?" Steve laughed again. "You are definitely my star player, Clint. Nap?" Steve nodded towards the bed. "Yes please. What do the rules say about spooning?" Asked Clint, pulling off his shirt on the way. "Oh it's very encouraged." Steve replied. "Mandatory, even," scooping Clint into his arms as they slid under the covers and chuckling into his neck.