Kate likes Phil.
Clint didn't introduce them for the longest time, certain for some completely imaginary reason that they weren't going to like each other- or maybe that they were going to like each other too much and gang up on him, also likely. But Kate likes him. He's kinda boring, but he's also kinda soothing, in a weird way. He's also kinda Clint's, but Clint's not great at monogamy- at least now he has somebody who he actually said that to in advance. Clint's not as weird as she expected about her borrowing Phil, all things considered. Then again, if he knew what she and Phil did, probably he would be a little weirder about it.
They're in the shower, chosen because it's the end of the day and it's a bajillion degrees out, and the three things she's been thinking about today are, in order, new arrows, a long time spent in a cool shower, and fucking Phil.
There aren't any arrows in the shower. Just to clear that up.
She has her hand between Phil's shoulder blades, holding him against the slick tile wall, but she's not forcing him to do this. She asks him and he just does it, and that is so cool. She might be holding him down, but he's the one who's not trying to get free. He wants this just as much as she does, for her to take over. He could probably kill her with his pinkie, but for now he's going to let down his guard, let her just have him.
The water beats down on them, plastering Phil's short, thin hair to his head at funny angles, which is oddly sweet. The steady flow keeps washing off the lube as she works her fingers in and out of him, opening him up. She keeps adding more, trying to make it good, but he must have like half a bottle up there by now. It's definitely time to be moving on with the festivities.
"Hold yourself open," she says impulsively; it's such a thing-from-porn move, but Phil reaches back and does it, and Kate understands exactly why they decided to put it in porn in the first place. She adds just a little more lube to the head of her strap-on, then she starts to push slowly, gradually inside of him. Phil makes an awesome noise, putting his forehead against the tile; she can see him start to push back, the moment he makes himself stop, makes himself be good for her. That's so hot, that little moment of impulse making his obedience that much better.
She pushes until she bottoms out, the base of her cock flush with his ass. She leans in and bites his neck, just below the neat, precise line of his haircut, just above the dog tags that he never takes off, just where he likes it. She has to lean up a little to do it, and she can feel the way the toy shifts ever so slightly inside of him; all it makes her want is to do it again, tease him like that, not give him enough to get anything until she's good and ready for him to have it.
"Does that feel good?" she says against the wet, warm skin of his neck, before she bites him again.
"Yes, Kate," he groans, as she moves her hips, pushing in hard and deep. She loves the way her name sounds on his tongue- not so much when he's bawling her out, but at times like this, where she doesn't hear anything but submission, this thing that he gives her when they're all alone.
The noises he makes are amazing, incredible; she keeps fucking him harder just to hear more, the inarticulate mess of half-words that fall out of his mouth, stuff that might be profane and might be her name and might be nothing at all, just sound for the sake of sound. She doesn't care, not the least bit. She grabs his hands, slapping the palms against the wall on either side of his head and holding them there. She reaches down just long enough to flick on the vibrator at the base of her strap-on, biting her lip to keep from moaning at the jolt of pleasure from it. She puts her palm back over his hand, lacing her fingers through his from behind, and now she's really got him trapped. He can't get away now, and she knows that he isn't even thinking about it.
"Please," he says, and she almost doesn't hear it over the sound of the shower.
"Say it louder," she says, grabbing a handful of his wet hair and pulling his head back.
"Please," he says again, just as clear and steady as if there were nothing going on at all; it's the knife-edge of desperation behind it that Kate wants, the one that's more than good enough for her. "Please, Kate."
"You're begging really early," she says, fucking him faster.
"I know," he says, and she has to laugh. "But please."
"Beg me, and I'll think about it," she says.
"Please," he says again. "Please, Kate, I can't stand it, please." His words are low and rough; he's having trouble being articulate, and that's so awesome, that she can make him do that. She doesn't know what's getting her off more, the feel of the toy or the feel of his body or the knowledge that she's doing this to him, but it doesn't matter, it is so completely irrelevant.
She squeezes his hands hard when she comes, shutting her eyes. She lays her cheek against his back, panting a little as she gets it together. "Kate, please," he's saying, and his voice is almost a whine now, not that he'd ever admit to anything like that. She can feel the strain in his muscles as he keeps from moving, keeps from taking what he wants. "Please, Kate, I can't-"
He makes a distraught sound when she pulls out, rinsing her toy in the shower spray and turning the vibrator off before setting it aside on the edge of the tub. "Wow, you thought this was going to be really easy, didn't you?" she says.
"Yes," he says, through clenched teeth.
She turns him around, kissing him long and slow, and despite how tense he is he melts for her, letting her control it entirely. She realizes quickly that he's doing the awkward seventh grade dance boner thing, his hips turned away from hers so that she doesn't brush up against his cock. She thinks about it for a second, about how easy it would be to put her back against the wall and take it, let him just slip inside of her. She's so wet that it wouldn't be any trouble at all, just a smooth slide and a nice hard fuck.
She has An Agenda though. Besides, that would be letting him off way too easy.
She stands back from him, standing as imperiously as she can without feeling or looking ridiculous- which is only a little imperiously- in the middle of the shower. "Wash me," she says, and Phil does a good job of not looking dismayed, but not a perfect one. He doesn't hesitate, though. He picks up the shampoo first, and she obligingly turns around, letting him work her hair into a lather. She lets out a little moan at the feeling of his fingertips massaging her scalp; he spends more time than is strictly necessary doing it, and she doesn't complain about it at all.
Finally he takes his hand away, and she washes out the suds herself. The conditioner is next; she's not sure whether letting it soak in is good or bad for her hair, but it feels nice and soft, so whatever. She turns around, facing him again. He still looks hungry, needy, greedy, but he's calmed down at least a little bit. She points at the soap, and he picks it up. She's about to point out her bath puff, but he lathers it between his hands instead, and that is such a good idea.
He surprises her again by gently taking her by the elbow, turning her back around so that he can step in close behind her- he is just full of good ideas today. He smooths his hands down her chest, skirting around the outsides of her breasts to gently wash her stomach.
"Wasting your time," she tells him.
"You said 'wash', Kate," he says.
"Put your hands on my breasts," she says impatiently. "Don't act like you don't know what to do with them when you get there."
He pulls her back a little, and now his hard cock is pressed up against her ass, insistent and ready for her. She's not interested in dwelling on that at the moment, though, because now he's doing as she said, weighing her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. He spreads his fingers, massaging her, and she lets her head fall back against his shoulder, lets him do this for her. He rolls a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, pulling gently, just how she wants it. It's plenty hot, but she could almost fall asleep like this, might except for the thrum going through her, the one that feels like electricity.
"Lower," she murmurs, and he briefly picks up the soap, lathering it up his hands and putting it back before reaching down to cup her mound. She spreads her legs slightly as he washes her, paying attention to the curls covering her before he parts her with his fingers, finding her clit with two fingers and stroking her gently.
She has this grand plan and everything, but suddenly she just has to rush it along a little. She breaks away from Phil, considerately stopping to wash the soap between her legs away before she turns and pushes him to his knees. She pulls him forward, and he doesn't hesitate, pushing his fingers inside of her while he licks her, fucking her with them while he drives her crazy with his mouth. She braces her hands against the tile wall, not sure she won't give out if he keeps doing this- and she has no intention of stopping him.
He's pushing her closer and closer; it's creeping up on her, little by little, and when it gets there all she can do is pound the shower surround with her fist, though she's not sure why. "Shit," she hisses, and she can feel Phil start to pull away. She grabs him by his hair and puts him right back where he belongs, and he doesn't stop this time, slowing a little to let her catch her breath but then continuing right on. His jaw must be sore by now, and she doesn't give a fuck.
He knew the risks when he took this job.
She comes again, grinding herself against his face, and she knows that's it, she's down for the count. Her legs are shaky, like she's going to give out at any second, and there's a good chance she might. It takes her a minute to get back together, to figure out what her name is again, to remember there's this guy in the shower with her who she should really probably take care of.
"Kate, please," Phil says, in a low, urgent voice. He looks so good like that, looking up at her with that pleading desperation in his eyes, that she almost keeps him there, makes him wait a few more minutes while she comes up with something else to do with him.
She pulls him up though, taking him by the chin and kissing him hard. "What do you want?"
"I don't care," he says breathlessly. "I really don't care, Kate, just let me."
"Let you what?" she says sweetly, wrapping her hand around his dick and stroking him slowly.
"Motherfucker," Phil hisses. "Please let me come, Kate."
"Do you deserve it?" she asks.
"I sure fucking hope so," he pants.
She moves her hand faster. "Then come for me."
The noise he makes when he comes is so gratifying, so loud, so good it almost makes her tremble. He paints his stomach with it, hot and white, and before the shower can wash it away, Kate swipes her fingers through it and presses them into his mouth, making him taste himself, making him know exactly what he's just done.
She's completely exhausted, and she's pretty sure Phil is the same way, judging by the slightly ragged look on his face. She kisses him once before she cuts the shower off, reaching to pull the shower curtain back. "Shit, conditioner," she says, turning the shower back on and quickly rinsing her hair. Phil gives her his usual amused smirk, and she just rolls her eyes, grabbing her towel.
They finally come out of the bathroom, still dressed in just towels and dopey post-sex expressions, and Clint is waiting for the two of them, his arms crossed over his chest.
He looks livid.
"Don't fuck in my shower," Clint says, pushing between and past the two of them, and Kate frowns, worried. She always knew it was kind of tenuous, this whole thing, but Clint said he was okay with it, and she didn't really want to argue, for several reasons.
Clint slams the bathroom door shut. "I have had to pee for the last fucking hour," he says. "The least you could do is leave the goddamn door unlocked."
Kate looks at Phil, and Phil just shakes his head.
Maybe it's going to be okay.