The second time Clint stays over at Phil's place, he finds his dildo.
It's by complete accident, Clint swears, and honestly he thinks Phil's to blame, because the mind-blowing orgasm Clint just had has somewhat clouded his ability to think straight--and whose fault is that? Clint would be satisfied to just use his t-shirt to clean up with, but Phil says, happy and still half-out of breath, "Get a towel, Clint, second drawer on the right." So Clint walks to the dresser on wobbly legs, pulls open the second drawer on the left, and finds himself staring down at a decently sized, bright purple dildo.
"Um," Clint says.
The dildo is realistically molded, apart from the color. It's even got fake testicles attached to its base, and Clint's not sure how to react to this at all.
"What," Phil half-asks in that What's Barton gotten himself into this time?-tone that Clint is all too familiar with.
"Um," Clint says again, and turns around with the dildo in hand, so Phil can see.
Phil barely raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"You own a dildo?" Clint asks incredulously, because this is only like the fourth time they've had sex (but psht, who's counting, it's just sex, right?) and he still has issues combining his idea of Agent Coulson with the Phil who just did his best to fuck him through the mattress, and even more of an issue trying to combine those two ideas with the image of Phil Coulson, Masturbating With A Dildo.
"Yes, and I quite enjoy using it," Phil says blandly. "I'm still failing to see the big deal here."
Then suddenly Clint sees it clearly in his mind, that image--Phil Coulson, Masturbating With A Dildo, legs spread wide and the toy shoved firmly up between his cheeks and--fuck. Clint chokes on air as his brain short circuits a little. His flaccid penis gives a pitiful twitch between his legs and he drips jizz on Phil's carpet.
Phil frowns disapprovingly at the splotch on the carpet, and since Phil never needs to do more than that to spur a reaction in Clint, he has to gather his wits about him and quickly apologize. "Sorry, shit, sorry," he says as he puts puts the dildo back in the drawer. He finds the right drawer and digs out a smaller hand towel to clean up both himself and the floor, and they don't talk about the dildo again that day.
Except Clint can't quite forget that damn dildo.
In the morning, he rolls out of Phil's ridiculously comfortable bed and stretches, naked and shameless. He says, "Thanks for last night," with a wink and a grin at Phil--and then glances at the closed drawer, second on the left, like he can't quite help himself. If Phil notices his eyes flicker, he doesn't say anything about it.
They dress and part ways, going about their day as usual. If Clint keeps flashing back on that stupid sex toy and Phil using that stupid sex toy, then that's his problem. They've fucked four times (but really, who's counting?) and they never really spoke about it so they might not ever fuck again, and Clint should really just put the whole thing out of his mind and be okay with the possibility that he might never actually get to ask Phil about it.
Anyway, it's not like it consumes his thoughts or anything, he's got too much on his plate for that. He trains with Natasha and Steve, he participates in a couple of press conferences in relation to some of the destruction of public property that inevitably happens when the Avengers need to assemble (so not his fault, by the way), and he goes on a few milk run missions because he's apparently "too high profile" now to participate in the extra covert ops. Whatever.
His third milk run in as many weeks is just him and Phil, and it is possibly the worst thing that's happened to him since Loki. Yeah. Years later, and he's distanced himself enough from it so that he can joke about it. Take that, everyone who said he wasn't taking his therapy seriously.
"I'm fucking bored," Clint whines, which is unusual. He's rarely ever bored as long as he's got a long range weapon in his hands, but this time? Yeah. He's bored.
"Radio silence," Phil's voice reminds him in his ear, and Clint huffs out a breath and watches his target under hooded lids.
"I'm gonna fall asleep," Clint warns, even though there's no chance of that, really.
"Barton," Phil says, and he sounds stern now.
"What," Clint demands, annoyed now. "I've been up here for like four fucking years or something," even though it's barely been a few days, "and even if the target moves--which he won't by the way, lets face it--I'm not even allowed to do anything fun." Which is half a lie, because he's got his favorite rifle and his tranq darts--but they're not as fun as his bow and his exploding arrows. Or the new putty ones that Bruce had helped make for him. Clint's been dying to try those puppies out.
"Target will move," Phil says.
"Target won't!" Clint insists, and wonders just how much trouble he'll get in if he replaces his rifle with his bow. The putty arrowheads are just so damn tempting. "Target will sit at home, like usual, and then go to bed, like usual, and I'll sit here and slowly die of boredom. What a waste of an Avenger, Coulson, what a--"
"Agent Barton, shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you," Phil snaps the way he only does with Clint, and Clint snorts.
"Using what, your big, fat dildo?" he mutters without thinking too hard about it.
There's a stunned pause, and Clint snickers childishly. Then Phil says, "I was thinking my cock, the dildo could be useful--elsewhere," and Clint starts salivating so fast he bursts out laughing, just a sharp, little bark of laugh.
Phil doesn't snicker childishly in return, he's far too much of a badass for that. "I'd be up for that," Clint says, and wonders if he really sounds as eager as he thinks he sounds.
There's another pause on the other end of the comm link, but Clint's not sure how long it goes on for, because he's suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that he could have Phil, he could be sucking Phil, while Phil pushes the dildo into his own body--or better yet, into Clint's body! The idea of being filled at both ends does things to him, and he sprouts a boner so fast he's frankly a little scared.
"Target's on the move," Phil says in his ear, calm as you please, but unmistakably smug about it.
Clint frowns and turns his mouth down to keep from making a pouting noise into the comm link, and then waits until the mark emerges in the alley, just like they knew he would. Clint fires a tranq dart and the target only stumbles for a step before going down like a sack of potatoes.
"Finally," Clint complains. "Let's get out of here."
Phil had been all business as usual while they brought their target into custody and throughout all the subsequent debriefs and paperwork, so Clint was briefly worried that was it--the dildo conversation would never be brought up again and they'd never have sex again and their--whatever they had--was over, just like that.
Now, though, stumbling through the door to Phil's bedroom, Clint's happy to note his fears (not fears, fears sounds like he was too worried--vague concerns, more like it) were completely unfounded.
Clint sucks in a sharp breath as he falls back on the bed and Phil immediately attacks his jeans, getting past the fly so he can get his hands on Clint's hard dick. "Oh man, it's good to be back," Clint half-sighs, half-moans as Phil pulls him out of his boxers and licks along his shaft.
"In my bed?" Phil asks with an amused glance up at Clint.
"Well, yeah," Clint shrugs. "First time was in a hotel room. Second time, your office, which was fun, don't get me wrong, but I vastly prefer your bed. It's comfy. So sue me."
Phil's amused look grows. "You're counting?"
"No," Clint scoffs hurriedly, and probably a little too defensively. "Nobody's counting," he says, before changing the subject as smoothly as he can. "Hey, so, about your dildo."
Phil, who is in the process of sucking on the head of Clint's cock as he pushes Clint's jeans down his thighs, sputters a little. It tickles, and Clint grins. Phil looks back up, and the expression on his face is unreadable now. They look at each other for a few moments, and Clint's just not sure what to say; he's got a growing feeling of embarrassment in his stomach, a faint tingle of anticipation, and he's definitely got an erection that's sad Phil took his wonderful mouth away.
"You liked that idea?" Phil finally asks, and his voice is different. Husky.
Clint swallows, heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah," he says, leaning on his elbows and nodding. "Yes."
Phil studies his face for just a few seconds, eyes barely narrowing a little as if he's searching for something in Clint's heated gaze, before he nods once, decisively. Getting to his feet, he gets the dildo from the drawer, and puts it on the bed, before stripping out of his clothes.
"Get undressed," he tells Clint, who doesn't have to be asked twice.
Clint might flail a little in his hurry to get his jeans all the way off, pulling his underwear down along with them, and then almost gets stuck wrangling his t-shirt over his head. When he emerges from his t-shirt, Phil's already naked and smiling at him and there's this expression on his face, something about the way he looks at Clint, that looks--fond? He's laughing softly, and Clint feels heat flame up his neck. "Shut up," he mumbles, then pulls Phil down to the bed.
Phil's chuckle turns into a full-out laugh against Clint's lips. "I didn't say anything."
"Didn't have to," Clint says back into the kiss.
They make out for a while, erections pressing together in a pleasant but non-urgent manner, and Clint almost forgets all about the dildo and about counting and about everything, because he's just so damn happy, right here, with Phil's tongue in his mouth. Phil is a fucking excellent kisser, and it's still difficult for Clint, but it's getting easier, to see his handler--Agent Coulson--as more than that. Agent Coulson, who is also just Phil, this awesome guy who makes part of Clint's insides melt into a puddle of happy goo just with his sexy kisses.
Then Phil pulls out of the kiss a little, and Clint has to blink a few times to regain focus.
"So, what did you want me to do with this?" Phil asks, and the vibrant color of the dildo instantly catches Clint's eye as Phil holds it up.
Clint shrugs a little. He's not sure how to verbalize what he wants. He's not even sure what he wants. He wants everything. He wants to see Phil use the toy on himself. He wants the dildo in his own ass. He wants a lot of things.
"How about you use it," Clint says, before adding carefully, "on me?"
He doesn't mean for it to come out quite as questioningly as it does, but fortunately for him, Phil understands easily, and the smile he gives him is almost predatory. Clint's hard-on throbs and he has to grind up and into Phil a little, because those are some serious bedroom eyes Phil's giving him right now.
"On you, huh?" Phil asks, and then bends his head to lick along Clint's jawline. Clint has to fight to keep his eyes open. "The thing is," Phil says, and that's his Reasonable Logic voice, "if you just wanted to get fucked, I could just fuck you. But you asked for this instead. Which must mean you want it for a specific reason."
Clint's heart skips a beat, and his mind is overloading with dirty visuals of the things they could do, overlaid with the timbre of Phil's voice as he says 'fuck.' Hearing Phil curse so easily does things to Clint, what can he say? He knows what he wants, though. Problem is, Clint's always been bad about asking for the things he wants. He can't find the words--so he's very grateful that Phil can.
Phil's voice drops further, darker, as he says, "Do you remember earlier? I want to fuck you with this while you suck me off, would you like that?"
Clint can't help it, he moans and his hips jerk upwards. It's the clearest non-verbal yes he can give, but just so there's no confusion, he nods and pants out, "Yes, yes--God, Phil, yes!"
Phil looks smug when he pulls back, and Clint just marvels at him as they maneuver up the bed. Grabbing the lube, Phil shifts Clint onto his stomach, before crawling down between his legs, and Clint rests his head on his forearms and pushes his ass up. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room are their heavy breathing, and the anticipation sits heavily in Clint's stomach.
"I like you like this," Phil confesses quietly, breaking the silence.
"Ass in the air?" Clint asks cheekily, because he has to.
"That too." Phil sounds amused. One of his hands settle on Clint's flank, and there's the sound of the lube cap opening and closing. "But it's not just about the pose. I like you--wanting me."
"I always want you," Clint blurts out, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it because then Phil's fingers brush between his ass cheeks, and his eyes flutter closed as he moans, "Fuck."
Getting fingered by Phil is awesome. Incredibly awesome. In fact, it's rapidly becoming one of Clint's favorite things in the entire world, right up there with sucking Phil, getting sucked by Phil, getting fucked by Phil, and shooting his bow. If at any point Phil wants to bottom for him, he's sure that'll make the list as well. Hell, any sex with Phil is just phenomenal, okay? Phil's got these long fingers that find their way inside of Clint so easily, and he knows how to move them just so.
Clint moans and grips the pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, and his cock is drooling on Phil's sheets, but that's totally Phil's fault too, because he's found Clint's prostate and is relentless in the way he rubs across it. By the time Phil pulls his fingers out of him, he's almost forgotten what they were doing, and a choked, "No!" escaped him before he can stop himself.
"Don't worry," Phil says, and then Clint can feel the dildo press up against him. There's a moment of brief resistance--and then it's in, hard and slick, Phil sure and steady in the way he pushes it into Clint's body. It's bigger than Phil's fingers, even though he had worked his way up to three. It's unnaturally hard, not at all the same feeling as having Phil himself slide into him, but at the same time it's Phil holding it, it's Phil doing this to him, and Clint fucking loves it.
"So good," Clint moans. Phil keeps pushing and it seems to go on forever before Clint finally feels the silicone of the fake balls settle against his perineum. "Good," he repeats, and shifts a little.
"Good," Phil says, sounding satisfied, and then he pulls the dildo back just a little, before pushing it back in. The in and out motion keeps going, and Clint's jaw just drops open as he tries to remember to breathe, because holy goddamn fuck shit fuck, Phil is using his own dildo to fuck Clint, and it's so hot, Clint can't even think straight. He wants to grab his own dick so badly, but he's resisting, he's holding out, because he wants this feeling to go on and on.
It takes a moment for Clint to realize Phil's speaking to him, and he bites his lip and blinks to clear the fog from his head. "What?"
"Turn over," Phil instructs again, patient and kind even though his voice is raspy with obvious arousal.
The dildo stays in Clint as he turns over onto his back, but it does slide just a little, jostling in an interesting way that makes his cock twitch and leak more precome everywhere. He doesn't really have time to wonder how this will go down, before Phil's above him, one knee on each side of his torso, strong arms pulling his legs up and to the side so he can get access to the dildo again. Pushing it firmly back in, Phil leans down, and Clint gets the idea.
Bracing his feet on the bed and spreading his legs as wide as he can, Clint reaches up with one hand to guide Phil's hard dick into his mouth. It's not the best angle, but it works, and he can feel the tremor that runs through Phil's body as he closes his lips around the hard shaft and sucks. The taste of Phil's own precome settles on his tongue, and he sighs happily.
"Clint," Phil grits out. It sounds strained, and then his hips snap down. It's a tiny thrust, tightly controlled, because everything Phil does is tightly controlled, but Clint can take it. He puts one hand on Phil's ass and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and the dildo is twisted in return, causing him to moan around the cock in his mouth. And just like that, Phil's moving, and Clint's entire body nearly overloads from the sensations.
The dildo is thick and insistent in his ass, Phil's hard and wet in his mouth, and it's so hot, Clint can feel the pressure building in his balls, this is unbelievably hot, having Phil like this, being filled up like this--
Clint has no clue how Phil does it, but he keeps up a steady rhythm, pushing and pulling at the dildo, and thrusting just right into Clint's mouth, never going so deep that he chokes unpleasantly on it, but always deep enough it feels dirty and perfect, and Clint's dick absolutely throbs where it bumps into the top of Phil's chest. He tries to get his tongue just right, tries to make it good for Phil too, but it's hard to concentrate. His body's in sensory overload, and Clint might die from pleasure.
The pressure is still building, and Clint doesn't even realize it at first--that he's going to come just from this, from Phil's silicone cock in his ass and Phil's real cock in his mouth--but then suddenly he does. He tries to let Phil know, insistent moans around Phil's cock, but all it does is make Phil moan in return, and Phil sounds absolutely fucking wrecked as he breathes out, "God, you feel so good, want to do this to you forever, want you to do this to me, too!" and that's just… That's just it.
Clint thinks he might make an undignified whine around Phil's dick, and light spots dance behind his eyelids as he comes his brains out, and it's the first time he's been able to come like that, essentially untouched. Impressive, he thinks numbly, to get to his age and still be able to have sexual firsts.
He comes down from his orgasm as Phil moves off his body, cock briefly slipping out of his mouth, before Phil turns his head, kneeling next to him on the bed. Pushing back in between Clint's lips, Phil cups one hand around the back of Clint's head as he pants and grits out, "Clint, Clint, fuck, Clint." The dildo is still lodged up Clint's ass, and every time Phil thrusts in, it moves the mattress just enough to jostle it inside Clint so his dick twitches. Clint put one hand on Phil's thigh and does his best to relax his throat, to let Phil just take, and that thought is so hot, it's almost enough to set him off again.
Phil makes a noise that's halfway between a grunt and another moan, and then he's pulling out and coming into Clint's still open mouth and onto his face and the mattress. It's ridiculously hot, and tingles run down Clint's entire body.
Falling down onto the bed, Phil curls up next to Clint and puts his head right by Clint's face, even though there are still splatters of come everywhere. They lie side by side, breathing heavily for a while, and Clint closes his eyes briefly in happiness.
"Heh," Phil says after a little while.
"Hush," Clint says, "That was awesome. I'm basking. Don't ruin it."
"I wasn't going to ruin anything," Phil says, and Clint opens his eyes again in time to see Phil reach up and swipe some of his jizz off Clint's chin with his thumb, and then suck it off.
"Jesus fuck," Clint breathes out as his dick stirs again in the mess on his abdomen. He shifts a little and then shudders, instantly reminded that the dildo is still lodged in him.
Phil chuckles and then slides down the bed. With his face in such close proximity to Clint's dick again, Clint sucks in a quick breath, not certain what he's hoping for, but then Phil's easing the dildo out of him. As it leaves his body completely, Clint groans a little, and then Phil turns back around to lie next to him again.
"Good?" Phil asks, but he sounds ridiculously smug.
Clint makes a face at him, sleepy and happy in his post-orgasmic haze. "Shut up," he says, and Phil chuckles at him. "You're totally doing the cleanup."
"Should we bother?" Phil asks. "I mean, we're just gonna get dirty again, right?"
Clint laughs then, surprised and delighted, and feels drunk on sex and Phil. "You always have the best fucking ideas."
"If you play your cards right, I'll let you fuck me for our tenth time," Phil says, and Clint doesn't even know what to say anymore. Phil shrugs like it's no big deal, smile still on his face, and they're not so different anymore, Agent Coulson and this Phil--Clint's Phil--loose and relaxed and happy after sex. Clint's heart does a funny twisty thing in his chest, and he breathes deeply.
"You'll have to keep count, though," Phil interrupts, teasing, before Clint can say anything horribly sappy and embarrassing, and Clint manages an eyeroll before pushing his face against Phil's, thoroughly messing him up in the process--though honestly, that just serves him right.
There's still something terribly emotional lurking in his throat, so Clint just noses under Phil's chin instead. He kisses Phil's adam's apple and loves the way it bobs as Phil laughs, and doesn't say anything at all. Phil's always been better with words than him, anyway.