"Christ, all I want is a man with stamina, good hands, and maybe a couple of joints to share, and a locked room where I don’t have to do anything complicated," Phil said as he dried his hands on a piece of paper towel and then ran one over his eyes, trying, futily, to look more pulled-together than he felt.
"You know I love you, Phil, but some things are a bridge too far. Besides, I'm not sure Judith would understand."
Phil was so tired that it took him a minute to figure out that Jasper was joking. When he did, he managed to summon a weak grin. "Thanks anyway."
"If there's any way I can help with the Bolivia op, though, let me know."
"Don't worry, I will. Nothing's going to happen on it for at least another 48 hours, anyway."
"Then you should go home for the next 24 hours, and sleep for at least twelve of those." Jasper folded his arms and gave his friend a severe look.
"I've tried. Believe me. With all the fires I've been fighting in the past couple of weeks, the AIM thing and then the mutants and now Bolivia, my brain just won't shut down for long enough to let me fall asleep, hence wanting - "
"To get laid and stoned. Gotcha. Well, good luck with that. You want me to hunt down the name of a reputable, ah, escort service for you?"
"Like I could possibly relax around someone who hasn't been vetted right now." Phil sighed. "I'm just going to keep working until I fall asleep at my desk."
"Well, it's good to know you have a plan," Jasper said. Phil shrugged and left the bathroom. Jasper looked after his friend thoughtfully.
"Barton, good. Come in. Close the door behind you," Jasper Sitwell said when Clint poked his head into his office.
"Uh, okay. Mission?" Clint closed the door and stood near Jasper's desk.
"Not quite. Sit down, please." Jasper steepled his fingers. Clint knew something was up, so he sat, and waited to find out what it was.
"How would you describe your relationship with Phil Coulson?" Jasper finally asked.
"Uh, my eval isn't for another two months, I'm pretty sure," Clint said, trying to figure out what this was about.
"This isn't about your eval, Clint. This is... personal."
"Is Coulson okay?" That was obviously in the right ballpark, because suddenly, Jasper smiled.
"No, not really. He could use some help."
"Just tell me what he needs me to do and I'll be there." Clint was already halfway out of his chair.
Jasper waved him back into it. He was grinning now, and leaning back in his chair. "No so fast. Like I said, this is personal, not professional. I'm going to ask you if you're willing to do a favor for my friend."
"Well sure, anything."
"I think you'd better wait to hear what it is." Jasper swiveled his computer monitor around so that Clint could see it. It showed security footage of one of the SHIELD bathrooms, with Phil Coulson and Jasper standing at the sinks. The image was frozen.
"I figure you won't believe me if I tell you, so you need to hear it from him. He doesn't know I'm showing you this. He'll probably be pretty pissed at me when he finds out, but I think—no, I know—I'm doing the right thing here." With that, Jasper clicked his mouse and the security footage began to play.
"Christ, all I want is a man with stamina, good hands, and maybe a couple of joints to share, and a locked room where I don’t have to do anything complicated."
Coulson's voice was tinny on the recording, but Clint could hear that it was him. Clint had spent so many ops with Coulson's voice in his ear that he knew it almost was well as he knew his own. Clint opened his mouth to say something but Jasper held up his hand, letting the video continue to play.
"You know I love you, Phil," Jasper was saying, "but some things are a bridge too far. Besides, I'm not sure Judith would understand."
Coulson looked beat. Clint had never seen him looking so run-down. He expected he never would; Phil Coulson was a proud man, and would never let anyone who wasn't a close friend (like Jasper) see him like that.
"...my brain just won't shut down for long enough to let me fall asleep, hence wanting-" Coulson said on the tape and Jasper interrupted him.
"To get laid and stoned."
Clint felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Coulson. Phil 'I could kill you with a paperclip' Coulson was saying he needed to get his ashes hauled. Clint dragged his attention back to Jasper's recorded voice.
"...the name of a reputable, ah, escort service for you?"
"Like I could possibly relax around someone who hasn't been vetted right now. I'm just going to keep working until I fall asleep at my desk."
"Your stamina's a given, and I figure you've probably got good hands and know where to score a little weed. What do you say, Barton, you willing to give Phil Coulson a good time?"
Clint knew he was blinking stupidly at Sitwell. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights. On the one hand, 'Hell yeah,' fucking (or being fucked by—he really didn't care which way it went) Phil Coulson was something he had no objection to whatsoever.
But Coulson was his boss, his handler, and, he hoped, maybe even his friend. There was no way in hell he wanted to risk that going south on him.
"I need you to swear to me that you're sure this is a good idea," Clint finally said.
"I'm sure. He may take a little convincing, but Phil Coulson's been my friend for over twenty years, and for him to be in such bad shape that he'd actually admit to wanting something like this..."
"Yeah, I get that. It's just..."
"What? He's not bad looking. You could always close your eyes and pretend–"
"It's not that," Clint interrupted quickly, because Coulson was pretty damn hot, though Jasper didn't really need to know Clint thought so. "I'm, uh, just afraid that he's gonna hate me afterwards. You know, for having..."
"Seen him naked?"
"Seen him weak."
Sitwell's stare made it clear that his estimation of Clint's intelligence had just risen a couple of notches. Playing dumb was a trick Clint had learned long ago to get people to underestimate him, to give himself an advantage. But if they were talking about the future of his professional (and personal) relationship with Phil Coulson, a man he liked and respected, Clint was willing to let Sitwell see one of his aces.
"If there's any fall out from him about this, I'll take it. Promise. I'll tell him I talked you into it or coerced you or whatever it takes," Sitwell said.
"You're that sure this is... serious?" Clint's eyebrows went up into his hairline and he felt a small knot of real concern form in his guts.
"All I know is that if he had to go out into the field right now, I'd be very worried about his chances of coming back in one piece," Sitwell said. "I'll take some heat in order to make sure he's around to give it to me."
Clint thought. Sitwell was worried. worried about Coulson's mental state, worried enough to go to this length to try to help him. "... a man with stamina, good hands, and maybe a couple of joints to share, and a locked room where I don’t have to do anything complicated." Coulson's words rang in his head.
"Okay," Clint said, leaning forward in his chair. "How do we do this?"
Clint unlocked his apartment door, stepped inside, and dropped the bags in his arms. Then he checked the time.
'Two hours. Okay, I can do this,' he muttered to himself.
He'd left SHIELD over an hour ago and made two stops on his way home. The first one had been at Target for a new set of sheets (faster than washing the ones he had, which had holes in them anyway). He'd somehow managed to also acquire a matching coverlet and pillow cases, a throw blanket, and a couple of jar candles. 'It'll be nice. Romantic. Besides, my apartment looks way less shitty by candlelight,' Clint had rationalized to himself while standing in the line at the register. The fact that he was putting more effort into having sex with Coulson than he had into his last few dates was something he was not going to examine too closely.
The other stop had been at a drug store for condoms, lube, and snacks. He'd bought a six-pack of Gatorade, a big bag each of popcorn and pretzels, a couple of frozen pizzas, and two tubs of ice cream.
He put the frozen stuff away but left everything else by the door. Then he went around his apartment in a whirlwind of tidying; throwing out trash, stuffing dirty laundry into a duffle-bag, and filling the dishwasher with everything that was moldering on his coffee table and kitchen counter. He was making up the bed with the new sheets when his phone chimed. The text message was confirmation from Sitwell that their plan was a 'go' and that he was on his way over with Coulson. Clint had half-an-hour before they arrived.
He finished making the bed, then stuffed his feet into his boots and went down the hall.
The negotiation with his neighbor was easy, once Clint managed to convince the man that he was a) serious and b) not cooperating with the cops.
"Look, man, a friend of mine is in bad shape and needs to unwind. That's all it is, I swear. I'm not gonna tell anyone where I got it." Clint pulled two twenties out of his wallet. "Oh, and I need you to throw in some papers." The guy rolled his eyes at that, and Clint grinned. Five minutes later he was back in his apartment working on the final touches.
He put the candles by the bed and lit them and stuffed the condoms and lube into the nightstand. Then changed his mind. This wasn't a date, there was no need to be coy. Clint didn't know what Jasper was going to tell Coulson on the way over, but there was no point in pretending this was anything other than it was. He tore three condoms off the strip and wrestled the security plastic off the bottle of lube, then left both on the nightstand next to the candles.
The throw blanket went over the back of the sofa, the bag of weed, rolling papers, a lighter, and a saucer to serve as an ashtray went on the coffee table. He left the snacks on the kitchen counter, put the Gatorade in the fridge, and took two beers out. His phone chimed again and he looked out the window. A SHIELD car was parked at the curb in front of his building and Clint's keen eyes could see Coulson in the passenger seat.
Clint's stomach clenched into a knot as he waited, suddenly admitting to himself how disappointed he was going to be if Coulson wasn't interested. In him. Phil Coulson was a class act and even if he was in pretty bad shape, maybe he wasn't desperate enough to want... Coulson climbed out of the car and looked up at Clint's building. With one last glance back at Sitwell in the driver's seat, he walked towards the door. Clint stayed by the window staring at the car which was still idling by the curb until the door buzzer startled him.
He scrambled over to the intercom and hit the door release immediately, then hovered nervously by the front door, waiting for Coulson to climb the three flights of stairs to his apartment. He glanced around the room one last time and his eyes fell on the two beers sitting on the coffee table. He picked them up and uncapped them, walking over to the kitchen trash can to toss the bottle caps away. Giving himself something to do helped calm his nerves. The bottles were still in his hand when a knock sounded on his door. Taking a last deep breath, he opened it.
Coulson looked... he looked half-dead, to be honest. His hair was neat and his tie carefully knotted, as always, but his face was drawn and pale and his eyes were bloodshot. Anything Clint had been about to say died in his throat.
"Here," he offered instead, handing Phil one of the bottles. "Come in."
Coulson stepped into the apartment and took off his shoes like a man operating on muscle-memory alone. Then he stood up and looked around. Clint couldn't tell what Coulson was thinking, whether he was assessing the apartment or regretting his decision to come or wondering how to get the party started. Clint was trying to figure out what to say to move on the third one when Coulson took a long sip of his beer and then cleared his throat.
"I need to know that this is voluntary. That Jasper didn't promise you anything, or threaten you with anything." Despite how beat Coulson looked, his voice held the same no-nonsense tone of command that it did in the field.
"What did he tell you. Sitwell, I mean?" Clint asked, worried about keeping their stories straight.
"That he played a tape of our private conversation for you. That you offered..." Coulson glanced over at the sofa.
"Sit down. You look like you're about to fall over," Clint said.
Coulson stared at him for a minute longer and then collapsed onto the sofa, beer bottle still in hand.
"I offered because I wanted to help. I, uh, like you. As a, um, colleague, I mean. You the best boss I've ever had, and Sitwell was worried about you. He said you weren't fit to go out into the field." Clint's beer bottle was dangling from his fingers. He thought about taking a sip, but waited to hear Coulson's response, first.
"That's the line he used on me to get me here. Said he'd report my 'condition' to Fury, have me pulled off active duty otherwise."
'Oh. Well, fuck,' thought Clint. He watched as Coulson took a long draw on his bottle and then raised a hand to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt collar.
"Look," Clint said, "I'm not gonna jump you. You want something to happen, it happens. Any way you want it. You wanna just sit there and drink your beer and smoke up while I give you a blowjob, that's totally cool. You want me to give you a backrub, or you want to nail my ass, I'm completely up for either of those or anything in between. Hell, if you just want smoke a joint and then have a nap, I'm totally fine with that too. I'll stay straight and sit watch if you need me to. Or I'll fuck off and come back in eight hours if that's what you need. Just tell me what–"
"Shut up," Coulson said, and Clint's mouth snapped shut in shock. "Sorry." Coulson rubbed a hand over his face. "No filters. I meant, stop talking for a minute, please?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Sorry."
"Sitwell said your biggest concern was that I'd still respect you in the morning."
"Uh, that's not exactly what I said, but I guess, I mean... I just don't want to fuck up, uh..." Clint waved the hand with his beer in it back and forth between them because he couldn't bring himself to use the word 'relationship.'
Coulson stared up at him for a minute longer, long enough for Clint's ears to start turning pink. Finally he said, "Fuck it. Take your shirt off and come here." Coulson tugged his tie off and started to unbutton his shirt cuffs and roll them up.
Clint stared stupidly for a moment and then put his beer down on the coffee table before pulling his t-shirt over his head. Then he took a step towards the sofa and hovered, uncertainly. "Where do you want me?" he asked, glancing down at the floor between Coulson's knees. He'd meant it 110% when he'd said he'd be happy to suck Coulson off.
Coulson's head was tipped against the back of the sofa, exposing a long expanse of throat and a curl of dark chest-hair where his shirt was part-unbuttoned. "Straddling my legs? Is that okay?"
"It's great," Clint said, climbing gracefully into Coulson's lap, and then not knowing where to put his hands. Coulson didn't have the same problem. His empty hand reached out to pull Clint closer and then slid smoothly up his spine.
"Yeah," Coulson said as if he was talking to himself. He turned his head and took another swig of beer, then shoved the bottle into the crack between the sofa cushions so that he could get both hands on Clint and pull him in even closer.
Coulson laid his cheek against Clint's shoulder and rubbed it against his bare skin, nuzzling like a cat. "Touch me however you want," he mumbled into Clint's neck.
The phrase "a man with good hands" echoed in Clint's mind as he slid one hand into Coulson's open shirt collar and around to the back of his neck. Trying not to be too obvious about what he was doing, he started to slowly massage some of the tightness out of Coulson's muscles.
Coulson's arms slid up his back, his shirt-cuffs dragging against Clint's skin, and fuck that should not feel as sexy as it did, but Clint couldn't help but respond. His hips bucked forward a little, looking for friction on his cock which had started to take an interest in the fact that he was sitting in Phil Coulson's lap.
"Yeah," Coulson murmured again, still nuzzling Clint's neck and shoulder. He pulled Clint in, urging him to rock slowly, and that made all his nerve endings light up. He couldn't help the soft moan that escaped.
Coulson tilted his head back and looked up at him, arms still around Clint's back, strong hands mapping the thick muscles of Clint's shoulders.
"Kiss me," Coulson said, his voice low and rough.
Coulson's mouth opened to his immediately and the taste of him was almost as heady as the fact that he let Clint control the kiss, tongue slowly thrusting into Coulson's mouth, matching the rhythm of his hips, and now both hands on Coulson's shoulders, inside his shirt, massaging his neck and shoulders strongly.
Coulson moaned long and loud and his hips bucked up to meet Clint's next thrust. Phil hands moved to Clint's ass and gripped, holding him still for a moment while Coulson's groin moved against his. Clint could feel the hard bulge of Coulson's cock rubbing against his thigh. With a groan, Coulson collapsed back into the cushions, his fingers still digging hard into Clint's ass. He pulled his mouth away.
"Get naked." The order was growled out and Clint was scrambling up to comply before his brain caught up with his body, but he was happy to shuck off his jeans and briefs and release his throbbing cock. Coulson stripped off his own shirt and then grabbed Clint's hip. For a second Clint thought Coulson was going to suck his cock, but instead he did the cat-like rubbing thing again, burying his nose in the crease of Clint's groin and caressing the side of Clint's cock with his cheek. Looking down at Phil Coulson's face while he nuzzled was more erotic than the best blowjob Clint had ever received.
"C'mere," Coulson said, pulling Clint back into his lap, but once Clint was there, Coulson just held him by the waist. "Fuck you're gorgeous," he said, and Clint's ears burned again. "Remind me to buy Jasper a bottle of scotch."
"Sure," Clint said with what he hoped was an easy grin. "Maybe I should too." Because Clint couldn't remember the last time he'd been this turned on. Even the scratchy wool of Coulson's suit pants against his ass and thighs was somehow exciting. And Coulson himself... Clint didn't have a type, not really, but if he did, then competent and built and older would all feature.
Thinking, rather than saying 'Fuck it,' he slid his fingers into the dark fuzz on Coulson's chest. He had given permission, after all, and Clint was supposed to be making him feel good, right? Coulson's hands were back on his ass, gripping with strong fingers.
Clint brushed across Coulson's nipples with both thumbs, drawing a very satisfying gasp. In retaliation, Coulson clenched his hands, spreading Clint's ass cheeks apart. Clint groaned and then bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from begging Coulson to fuck him. He dove for Coulson's mouth, plundering it with his tongue as he worked Coulson's nipples with his thumbs. Under him, Coulson bucked and whined into the kiss. How the fuck had helping a friend out with some stress relief turned into some of the best sex he'd had in ages, and Coulson wasn't even naked yet? It was Clint's turn to whine and he rubbed his hard, leaking cock against the warm skin of Coulson's stomach.
Coulson was still kneading his ass, spreading his cheeks wide, squeezing them together, and then spreading them again. Clint regretted having left the lube and condoms all the way across the apartment in the bedroom. He should have stashed some under the sofa cushions as well, but how could he have known?
Coulson pulled his mouth away from Clint's, panting. "Want you to suck me," he said, and Clint just managed to stop himself from making a disappointed noise. He had really been hoping to get Coulson's cock up his ass rather than down his throat, but Coulson was calling the shots here, so Clint backed off his lap.
"You, ah, want me to get the condoms for that?" Clint asked. "I, uh, tested clean at my last medical, if that, uh–"
"Don't worry about it for now," Coulson said, his eyes half-lidded.
"Okay, yeah," Clint said and folded himself neatly to his knees between Coulson's and reached for his belt buckle. It took him a little longer than it should have to unclasp and unbutton, but it had been a while since he'd come at it from this direction. He unzipped Coulson's fly (carefully, since he really didn't want to put a damper on things as this point) and slid his hand in to ease Coulson's boxers out of the way.
Coulson gasped and shuddered as Clint nudged the head of his cock. His hips came off the sofa and Coulson roughly shoved his pants and underwear down, freeing a thick cock that was deep red and shiny at the head. Clint's mouth watered and he leaned down, but didn't get very far because Coulson's pants were stopping him from spreading his knees. Coulson made a frustrated noise.
"Easy, here," Clint said soothingly. He slid the fabric down Coulson's legs and let it pool on the floor, then followed with his hands, sliding them down the backs of Coulson's calves and urging one foot up, then the other. Clint swept the clothes out of the way and Coulson sighed as he let his knees splay open wide.
"That's it, that's better," Clint murmured, edging in closer and sliding his hands back up until they were ghosting over the sensitive skin of Coulson's inner thighs. Coulson shook above him, and Clint couldn't help but smile. He was going to make this as good as he possibly could.
He leaned in again and, using one hand to steady the base of Coulson's cock, took a long, slow lick. Coulson moaned and shuddered above him.
"God that's good," he said.
In his peripheral vision, Clint saw Coulson's fingers twitch and then draw into tight fists.
"You wanna hold my head or grab my hair, that's fine. I don't mind at all." Clint said with a wicked grin up at Coulson, then he bobbed back down, taking the head of Coulson's cock in his mouth and sucking lightly. He figured Coulson was likely to go off pretty quickly, and wanted to make it last for a little while, at least. He pulled off and swirled his tongue around the head and then drew Coulson's cock back into his mouth, taking about half his length this time. A sound half-way between a whine and a growl came from Coulson's throat, and Clint felt Coulson's hands on his face. One cupped his jaw, thumb stroking at where his lips were stretched around Coulson's cock, and the other rested lightly on the back of his neck.
Coulson's legs splayed out wider and he slouched down a little further. "Nice and slow for me, okay?" he said, and Clint looked up and gave him a slow blink that he knew Coulson would understand to mean 'yes.'
So he worked his way slowly down onto Coulson's thick cock until it stretched his lips and bumped the back of his throat. Coulson made that whine-growl noise again, and Clint's own cock twitched at the sound. He eased off, sucking lightly, then worked his way down again, all the way this time.
Clint took a long slow breath through his nose inhaling the scent of Phil's musky sweat. He swallowed around Phil's cock, massaging it with his throat muscles, and then eased back up so that he could work with his tongue again. He had the head in his mouth and was teasing at the underside of Phil's cock with the tip of his tongue when he felt Phil's hand slide up from the back of his neck into his hair. It felt good, and Clint moaned around Phil's cock.
"God I wish I had the energy to fuck you," Phil said from above him, and Clint's eyes snapped up. He eased all the way off Phil's cock, stopping to give the tip one last lick, then cleared his throat.
"Uh, if you wanted, I could, uh, sit in your lap and, uh, ride you?"
A slow smile spread across Phil's face. "That would be absolutely perfect," he said.
"Good. Great. I'll, uh, just go get the, uh, stuff. Do you want another beer or something?" Clint asked as he climbed to his feet.
"No, I'm good. But if you don't mind, I'm gonna roll some of this," he said, gesturing at the weed and papers on the coffee table.
"Sure, go ahead. Glad you know how, actually, 'cause I haven't had much practice."
"It's been a couple of decades, but I'll manage," Phil said with a wry grin.
Clint felt off balance as he headed to the bedroom for the supplies. He noted the jar candles, still burning brightly, and the freshly made bed that probably wasn't going to even be used. The candles looked safe, so he left them burning. 'Maybe after Phil leaves, if there's a joint left, I'll relax here for a bit,' he thought.
He ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel and a box of tissues for clean-up, then he headed back to the living room. The sight of Coulson sitting naked on his sofa, hunched over the coffee table, his face set in a mask of concentration and his tongue peeping out the corner of his mouth as he carefully rolled a joint made Clint stop in his tracks and just watch.
'Fuck he's adorable. How could I have not noticed that before? Because 'adorable' and 'Sr. Agent Coulson' don't in the same sentence, that's why.' But this wasn't Sr. Agent Coulson rolling a joint on his coffee table. This was Phil. Phil who was stressed and tired and wanted a good fuck and a good night's sleep. Clint was aiming to give him both.
He tossed the towel, the box of tissues, lube, and condoms on the sofa. Phil looked up.
"Sorry, didn't mean to distract you," Clint said, but then as Coulson went back to rolling, Clint didn't know what to do. Standing there staring at him, while nice, seemed rude. So he went to the kitchen and got a beer and a bottle of water. He uncapped the beer and had a long slow swig, killing time, then went back to the living room. Where Coulson was running his tongue along the edge of the paper to seal the joint, and that looked like porn. In fact, this whole set-up looked like porn. Was porn, when he thought about it. He was pretty sure Sitwell hadn't somehow managed to hide cameras in his apartment between the time he'd agreed to do this, and the time he'd gotten home from Target. Besides, Coulson would know doubt break both his arms and legs if he had. Best friend or not.
"You just gonna stand there and look?" Coulson asked as he put the joint down on the saucer and leaned back. His hard on had drooped a little, but Clint could see it plump up again as Coulson's eyes roamed over his body.
"Seems like you're enjoying looking," Clint said, taking another swig of beer and purposely tipping his head back to swallow.
"Yes, well that's because you're well worth looking at."
"So're you," Clint said once he'd swallowed.
"You don't need to flatter me, Clint."
"M'not. S'the truth. You're built and good looking and... just... worth looking at. To me anyway." Clint realized that he was probably revealing a little more than he should and stopped talking. He put his beer down on the table and the water next to it.
"So, uh..." Things had been moving along nicely before, but now it was a little awkward. Coulson obviously didn't have time for awkward, though. He grabbed Clint's arm and pulled.
"Come here," he said, slumping a little further down on the sofa. Clint climbed into his lap and put his hands on Coulson's shoulders. "I figure you can probably multi-task, so how about we go back to the kissing while you get ready?"
It took Clint a second to figure out what Coulson meant, but when he did his cock jumped. "Yeah, sounds good," he said. He found the lube, opened it, and squeezed a generous amount out onto his fingers. He capped the bottle and dropped it on the cushions, then reached behind himself. He put his clean hand back on Coulson's shoulder and leaned down to kiss him.
Again, Coulson let him control the kiss, but after a moment he raised one to Clint's chest to tweak a nipple, and fondled Clint's half-hard cock with the other. Clint moaned into his mouth. It was perfect, and he eased one finger into himself to the first knuckle. It had been a while since he'd done anything like this, and the last time had involved some porn on his tablet and a dildo. But having Coulson scratching at his sensitive ball sac with blunt fingernails, running the callused pads of his fingers up the underside of Clint's cock, and rubbing and lightly pinching one of his nipples, well, he didn't need any more encouragement to move this along as quickly as he comfortably could.
Coulson pulled his mouth away and tipped his head back. "Straighten up, I want to see you. I want to watch," he said, and so Clint did, letting his head fall back as he worked a second finger into his ass and thrust slowly into Phil's hand.
"Fucking beautiful," Coulson murmured. "I wish I wasn't half-dead. I'd love to take my time with you. Lay you out and touch you everywhere. Suck your nipples and your cock. Open you up myself, first with my tongue and then with my fingers, and fuck you long and hard."
"Jesus, Coulson," Clint said. Coulson might just be talking dirty to help him along, but fuck, hearing that coming out of his mouth was doing things to Clint.
"Phil. I think under the circumstances," he said, squeezing Clint's cock in his hand, "you should be calling me Phil."
"Yeah, okay," Clint gasped as Coulson—Phil—pinched his nipple a little harder. "That feels fucking fantastic, Phil. Please don't stop."
"Tell me what you like. Where do you want my hands while you're riding my cock?"
"I like... just touch me. Anywhere. Want your hands on me. Want... Oh fuck," Phil was rubbing lightly just under the tip of his cock and that had always been a spot that drove him crazy. Phil's other hand slid into his hair and pulled his head back down to crash their mouths together again.
Clint was working his own ass almost frantically now as Coulson's—Phil's—tongue invaded his mouth and fucked it slowly. 'To hell with it,' Clint thought, 'I'll just go slow and it'll be fine.' After another long moment's kissing and tugging gently at the rim of his asshole to stretch it, he pulled his mouth away and gasped, "I'm ready when you are."
Clint half expected Phil to ask if he was sure, but instead he just picked up the strip of condoms and tore one open, then reached between them to smooth it onto his cock. Then he grabbed the lube and added a dollop. "Tell me if there's anything else you'd like me to do," Phil said, and it was such a 'Coulson' thing to say that Clint wanted to laugh.
Instead he shuffled into a slightly better position and aligned himself. He slid his fingers out and grasped Phil's cock with his slick hand, lowering himself until he could feel the blunt nudge at his hole. Keeping that hand in place, he squeezed Phil's shoulder and said, "If, uh, you could pinch my nipples, like you were doing before, but both at the same time."
"Sure." Phil didn't do it right away, though. First he scratched lightly at Clint's pecs with his fingernails, circling his nipples teasingly. Clint closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation as he started to ease himself down on Phil's cock. It felt huge, nudging his ass, but good. He wanted it, he just knew he needed to take it easy, slowly, and let his arousal work to help his body accept the intrusion.
Phil was still teasing him, and Clint thought about what he'd said, earlier, about wanting to take his time with Clint, lay him out and touch him. God that would be amazing. To have Phil's attention like that, to have all the power and control that was Phil Coulson focused on him, on giving him pleasure. He slid down an inch, taking most of the head of Phil's cock.
Phil growled and swept the pads of his thumbs across Clint's nipples. Clint moaned.
"Yeah, oh yeah." Clint was impatient and tried to take more of Phil's cock, but the burn was too much and he gasped.
"Take your time. There's no rush," Phil murmured, sweeping his thumbs back and forth across Clint's nipples in a maddeningly slow rhythm.
Clint took deep breath and tried to relax his muscles. "Gonna kiss you again, okay?"
Clint curled forward and met Phil's lips. Phil let him control the kiss again this time, opening to him. Clint sucked Phil's tongue into his mouth. This was going to feel so fucking amazing when... he breathed out slowly through his nose and slid down another inch. His ass clenched around the smaller girth of Phil's shaft and Phil moaned into the kiss and pinched both of Clint's nipples, hard.
Pleasure sparked through Clint. He moaned too and started to move, thrusting him self up and down just a little on Phil's cock, taking a little more on each slow thrust. Phil kept rubbing and pinching his nipples, and moaning into his mouth. Another few thrusts and Phil's cock was in all the way, and it felt so fucking good.
He pulled away from the kiss because he wanted to see Phil's face. Wanted to touch him, now that he was taking Phil's cock. Wanted to make him thrash and moan and drive him crazy. Wanted to make him loose it and come.
"Okay?" he asked, making sure.
"Perfect," Phil said breathlessly, and moved his hands to Clint's hips, gripping them tightly. "Hot and tight and perfect."
"Good." Clint grinned. "Because now I'm gonna rock your world." Clint grabbed the towel and wiped the excess lube off his hands, then put them on Phil's chest, burrowing his fingers into the dark wiry hair and finding Phil's nipples with the pads of his fingers. He rocked forward and lifted himself off Phil's cock almost all the way, supporting himself on powerful thigh muscles. Then he slowly sank back down, brushing across Phil's nipples as he did.
"Fuck, yeah," Phil moaned, and his hips bucked up to meet Clint's ass. Clint wasn't going to rush this part either, though. This was probably going to be the one and only chance he got to watch Phil Coulson fall apart under him, and he wanted to make the most of it. He rose up again, and slid slowly back down, now curling forward again. But instead of kissing Phil, he nipped at his jaw below his ear.
That got a loud moan and a shudder, which was more of a reaction than he'd been expecting. He'd just been trying to draw things out a little longer, but Phil was moaning and bucking under him.
"Found a good spot, did I?" Clint murmured into Phil's ear, continuing to pump himself up and down on Phil's cock. The only answer he got was another moan, so Clint scraped his teeth down Phil's neck.
Phil tipped his head invitingly back and to the side to give him access.
Clint nipped at Phil's neck again, a little harder this time, and that got another moan. Clint grinned and worked his way down the side of Phil's neck in tiny little bites, and by the time he was pinching the skin in the hollow of Phil's throat with his teeth, Phil was moaning and thrashing.
"That really turns you on," Clint said with wonder in his voice. "Now I wanna take my time with you, too, lay you out in my bed and bite you everywhere. Would you let me do that, Phil?" Clint asked between nips as he continued to work himself up and down on Phil's hard cock. "Would you let me bite the insides of your thighs?" Clint moved back to the side of Phil's neck and took the skin between his teeth, biting down firmly.
"Yes," Phil gasped and thrust up into him, his hips coming off the cushions for a moment before Clint slammed back down into his lap. "Fuck yes. You can bite me anywhere Clint. Anywhere you want. You can even leave a mark."
"Do you want that, Phil? Do you want me to leave a big purple hickey right here on your neck?" Clint nuzzled and nipped at the skin under the hinge of Phil's jaw, worrying it with his tongue. "Do you want to go back into work tomorrow with it where everyone can see?"
Phil shivered again, and dug his fingers into Clint's hips, leaving bruises of his own. Clint's couldn't care less. "Yes. Fuck it, yes. Bite me. Mark me."
"Gonna mark you, Phil," Clint said, nipping at the spot with his teeth again. "Gonna mark you and make you come while I do it." Phil moaned again, and Clint went to work. He shifted his knees a little to make sure he could move easily, then moved both hands back to Phil's chest, using the heels of his hands to balance himself and his fingertips on Phil's nipples. He began to ride Phil faster, now, pushing himself up and almost off then slamming down again and again. As he did he teased Phil's neck with his teeth, scraping and pinching lightly.
"Fuck, Clint. Do it." Phil whined, and Clint did, biting down hard and sucking at the skin between his teeth, raising a livid purple bruise.
"Oh god. Oh Fuck, Clint. Fuck," Phil gasped and strained under him, fucking up into Clint and then suddenly grabbing his cock in one hand and squeezing.
Phil's hand on his cock was almost enough to make Clint come.
Phil gasped and moaned Clint's name as he surged up into him and came; and that tipped Clint over the edge. He jerked and came hard into Phil's tight fist. As soon as Phil collapsed back onto the sofa, Clint released the bite and dropped his head onto Phil's shoulder.
"You good?" Clint asked.
"Yeah." Phil blew out his breath. "You?"
"I'm great. Is it okay if I stay here for a minute before I try to move, though?"
"No problem. I'll tell you if you start to get too heavy."
Clint smiled into Phil's neck. From the corner of his eyes he could see the bright red mark he'd left on the side of Phil's neck. He had no fucking clue how he was supposed to walk past the man in the halls at work tomorrow knowing he'd put it there, and how. He knew he'd be playing the sight and sound of Phil thrashing and moaning under him in his head when he was alone at night for a long, long time. He realized that Phil's hand was still curled around his cock, and that made him feel self-conscious and warm at the same time. Things were going to get cold and sticky and uncomfortable real soon, though, so it was probably time to get moving.
Clint lifted his head off Phil's shoulder and couldn't help lightly planting one soft kiss on the bruise he'd made before he said, "Gonna get off you now."
"Okay. Go slow."
"Don't worry. I'm not gonna be moving fast any time soon." Clint put his hands on Phil's shoulders and carefully levered himself up, hiding a slight wince as Phil's cock slipped out of his ass. It didn't actually hurt at all, it just felt a little... weird from this angle. Phil unclasped his hand and let go of Clint's soft, sticky cock. Clint told himself he was shivering from the cold. He backed off and stood up, reaching for the tissue box and grabbing a handful.
He cleaned himself up and could hear Phil dealing with the condom, but didn't look. He wasn't sure where they stood, now, or what happened next. Would Phil want to leave? Should he offer Phil his bed? With the option of him in it or not?
Then he realized that they both had a handful of dirty Kleenex and nowhere to put it.
"Here, I'll just..." he plucked the wad out of Phil's hand and headed for the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself and threw out the tissues then pissed, realizing as he did that he was still a little sticky. He soaked a washcloth in warm water and wiped himself down. They he thought Phil might want to do the same, so he grabbed a second clean cloth and soaked it in warm water before wringing it out. He ran his damp hands through his hair, blew out his breath, and headed back for the living room, still with no idea what to say or do next.
He found Phil sitting naked on his sofa taking a long draw on the lit joint.
"Now there's something I never thought I'd see in a million years," Clint grinned and flopped down next to Phil on the sofa.
"Hope you don't mind I started without you," Phil said with an easy smile as he handed over the joint. Clint thought he could really get used to a post-coitally relaxed Phil Coulson.
"Not at all, here," he said exchanging the joint for the damp cloth. "I thought you might want to clean up a little more."
Clint concentrated on remembering how to inhale without choking, and by the time he'd managed two good tokes, Phil was finished wiping himself off.
"Just drop that on the floor," Clint said. He handed the joint back. "So, uh, I got new sheets. For the bed. So if you want to stay, you can. I mean, I want you to stay. If you want. In my bed."
"That sounds great." Phil's head was leaning back against the sofa cushions and he rolled it to face Clint with a soft, warm smile on his face. He handed the joint back to Clint. "It's weird. I know I'm exhausted, but I'm not sleepy. It's like my body has just decided that sleep doesn't exist any more, no matter how tired I am. It's goddam frustrating."
"Yeah, I can see that, well, hopefully this'll help some," Clint said. He'd taken a small toke, but didn't want any more of the joint. He felt a certain degree of responsibility for Phil's well-being, which was silly, because Phil Coulson was a grown-assed man who was fully capable of taking care of himself, even stoned, but still...
Phil took a long draw and offered the roach back to Clint, who shook his head. Phil stubbed it out in the saucer and put it carefully on the coffee table, then leaned back, and looked at Clint again. "Still not sleepy. Fuck."
"Well, there's TV. We could order some food. 'Course one of us would have to put pants back on for that," It suddenly struck Clint how very strange it was that he and Phil were sitting bare-assed naked on his sofa together, and it didn't feel anywhere near as weird as it should. Of course, considering some of the situations they'd gotten into on missions in the past, it wasn't the weirdest, but still...
"No pants," Coulson said. "I like looking at you. Huh. Still no filters either, apparently."
Clint had to grin at that. "Well, I do have another suggestion. When you were, ah, talking to Jasper today, you mentioned wanting someone with good hands. I give a mean backrub. Even Nat says so. Might relax you enough to sleep?"
"Since the sex, which was fantastic, by the way, and the weed don't seem to have done the trick, that sounds like it's worth a try." Phil said, and then frowned. "I'm sorry, that sounded terrible." He reached out and put a warm hand on Clint's thigh. "I would love for you to give me a backrub, Clint."
Phil's voice was rich with sincerity and his eyes were locked on Clint's. He looked so fucking gorgeous that Clint's cock tried valiantly to twitch back to life.
"Okay then. Let's do this on the bed, that way if I do manage to put you to sleep, sleeping on the sofa won't undo all my hard work."
"There's a joke about 'hard' in there somewhere," Phil said as he levered himself into a standing position, "but I'm too tired to think of it."
"Bedroom's right through there. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable, I'm just gonna grab the massage oil from the bathroom."
Clint watched with appreciation as Phil levered himself off the sofa and then walked down the hall to the bedroom. The man had a fantastic ass. Clint glanced around and on impulse, grabbed the bottle of lube. They wouldn't need it again tonight, of course, but there was tiny chance that tomorrow morning... Clint laughed at himself, but took the lube with him anyway as he turned off the lights, checked the locks, and then padded to the bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of oil from the cabinet under the sink and another towel, and headed for the bedroom, telling himself sternly not to be disappointed if Phil was already passed out when he got there.
Clint stepped into the bedroom and his breath caught at the sight of Phil Coulson stretched out in the middle of his bed on the deep purple coverlet, his lean, muscular body bathed in warm candlelight. Phil was lying face down, elbows out to the side of his head with his hands folded under the pillow.
"Close the door, will you?" he mumbled as Clint stepped into the room.
"Sure," Clint said, and did. "I know the candles are a bit much," he said feeling embarrassed all of a sudden at how intimate the setting was.
"I like them. It's nice. This is nice. I haven't done anything like this in far, far too long."
Clint wanted to ask, 'Like what?' but he didn't want the answer to be 'Have casual sex with a co-worker,' so he kept quiet as he climbed onto the bed and straddled Phil's ass and settled his weight. "This okay?" he asked instead.
"Great," Phil said.
Clint had dropped both bottles and the towel on the bed, and now he picked one up and checked the label. He didn't wand to try massaging with lube accidentally, so he put that bottle aside and uncapped the other one. He poured a small amount of oil into the palm of his hand and then rubbed his hands together to warm them. Then he leaned forward and put his hands on Phil's shoulders.
He got a contented-sounding hum from Phil and so got to work, digging in with his thumbs and working the tight muscles with his fingers.
"Shit you're tight. No wonder you can't sleep," Clint said. Apparently his filters were down, too. "You should, like, book a regular massage. The physical therapy department has some good people."
"Don' like strangers touching me," Phil mumbled.
"Oh." Clint didn't know what to think about that. Sure, he and Phil weren't strangers. They'd worked together on and off for four years, and been in some pretty tight situations together. Phil had always had his back and they'd pulled each other's nuts out of the fire more than once, but that was what you did for your team. Was it possible Phil thought of him as more than just a colleague, though? They certainly weren't close friends or anything, but... Clint shook his head and started to work his way down Phil's spine, to the sound of a loud groan from the man under him.
"Almost as good as the sex. Better than the joint."
"Good to know," Clint said. Then "How do you even function with your back this tight?"
"S'not usually this bad."
"Well," Clint said as he slowly worked his way one-vertebrae-at-a-time down Phil's back, loosening the tense muscles with his strong thumbs, "this is a blanket offer for a backrub any time you need one."
That got a low rumbling chuckle. "Thanks."
"I'm serious, Phil. You shouldn't have to live like this. I know you carry a lot on your shoulders, being responsible for us on missions and stuff. I want you to tell me the next time it starts to get this bad, and let me do something about it for you."
Phil shifted under him, and Clint wondered if he'd over-stepped. He lifted his hands.
"Don't you dare stop," Phil growled, and Clint laughed and went back to working the knots out of Phil's lower back. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
After a couple of minutes of silence, Clint said, "I need to move down if you want me to do your tailbone."
"Sure, go ahead," Phil said, and twisted his head around to look as Clint climbed off his ass. "How do you want me?"
"Um, well, I don't want to put too much pressure on your knees, so how would you feel about spreading your legs so I can kneel between them?" Clint realized that sounded pretty bad, but Phil was already moving.
"This okay?" he asked when he'd spread his legs wide and settled back down.
"Great," Clint said, tearing his eyes away from the two perfect round globes of Phil's tight ass and putting his hands on the small of Phil's back. He dug in with his thumbs and got a loud groan.
"Sorry, am I hurting you?"
"A little, but it's good pain. My lower back gets sore sometimes."
"Like when you've been sitting at your desk for twelve hours straight, I bet. You should break that up. Hit the gym for an hour in the middle of the day."
"I know." Phil sighed. "I try to, but sometimes things just get in the way."
Clint leaned the heels of his hands on Phil's ass and dug his thumbs viciously into Phil's tailbone.
"Fuck," Phil said, then, "don't stop." He squirmed a little under Clint's hands. "Feels really good. You've got amazing hands." He squirmed again and Clint wondered if Phil was getting turned on. He let his hands drift a little lower so that now his thumbs were under Phil's tailbone, and just starting to delve between his ass cheeks. That got another squirm and a breathy 'Yeah.'
"Keep going," Phil mumbled, spreading his legs a little wider and rubbing himself against the bed. Clint used the heels of his hands to spread Phil's cheeks wide and continued to massage downwards with his thumbs until they were brushing Phil's puckered hole.
Phil moaned. Clint rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth, adding just a little gentle pressure. "Yeah. Fuck yeah. That feels so damn good."
Making Phil feel good was the whole point of this, so Clint figured he could get away with a little more. He leaned forward and, spreading Phil's ass cheeks wide open with his hands, licked across his hole.
"Fuck. Oh fuck. Please, don't stop. Clint please," Phil whined and the needy pleading when straight to Clint's cock., which twitched and started to fill. Clint didn't think he could get fully hard again so soon, but that didn't matter. What mattered right now were the obscene noises Phil was making under him.
Clint licked again and then started to tease Phil's hole with the tip of his tongue.
"Fuck, oh fuck. It's been so long. Clint. Please." Clint could feel Phil trying to keep himself still, trying not to push up into Clint's face. Phil's hips moved in slow, rhythmic little thrusts against the bed, and Clint wondered if Phil was hard again. It seemed unlikely, but who knew? If he hadn't had sex in ages, maybe...
Phil moaned long and loud when Clint breached his hole with an insistent wet tongue. He was getting more and more turned on by Phil's obvious pleasure. Clint wanted more of this. He wanted it again, some time when Phil wasn't half-dead and when things between them were clearer. He wanted to be naked in a hotel room with Phil for 48 hours with a big bottle of lube and maybe a pair of handcuffs. Or a couple of Phil's silk ties...
Clint probably wasn't going to get any of that, though, so he was going to make this as good as he possibly could. Phil was moaning continuously now as Clint worked his tongue in as deep as he could.
"Fuck. Oh, fuck, Clint I need it. Please. I need it big and deep. I need... Please. Your fingers, or..." Phil broke off with another moan.
Clint flailed one hand on the bed where he'd left the lube. Found the massage oil. Considered it, and then shoved it out of the way. He was mostly hard again now, and if there was any way... He found the right bottle and flipped it open, squeezing a dollop into his hand. He pulled his mouth away from Phil's ass and replaced his tongue with two slick fingers before Phil had a chance to draw breath.
"Yeah, oh fuck yeah. Give it to me. Please, Clint. Fuck me good and deep." Now Phil was thrusting up against him, moaning and thrashing on the bed as he tried to take Clint's fingers deeper into his ass.
"Shh, easy Phil, it's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. Just take it, Phil. That's all you have to do, just lie there and take it." Clint thrust in with three fingers and Phil sighed.
"So good. It's been so long. Wish you could give me a good fucking pounding."
"Is that what you want, Phil? You want me to split you open with my cock?"
Phil's hips were still moving, pushing back onto Clint's fingers in time to meet his thrusts, but he levered himself up onto his elbows and turned to look at Clint.
"Can you? Fuck, that would be so good, Clint."
"Yeah. Okay, then. Toss me the condoms?"
"You don't..." Phil started to say and then stopped himself and reached for the strip of packets on the bedside table.
"Phil, would you rather not use condoms? I mean, we're both healthy, right?"
"I shouldn't have said anything." Phil turned his face back to the pillow, but Clint could see that his ears were pink. "Way to ruin the mood, Coulson."
"Hey, no." Clint pushed his three fingers deep into Phil's ass, then twisted his wrist, making Phil moan. "I would love to fuck you bareback, Phil. If that's what you want."
"Yes. Please," Phil said. "Still no fucking filters."
"Doesn't matter," Clint said, laying one hand soothingly on the small of his back and rubbing in small circles. He twisted his wrist again, searching for the smooth bump of Phil's prostate with his fingers. He brushed against it and Phil shuddered.
"Oh yeah. So fucking good, Clint. Need your cock, Clint. Please."
Having Phil Coulson begging for his cock was doing great things to Clint's ego, and had his cock ready for action. "Yeah, okay. You want it like this, or can you get up on your knees for me?"
"Fuck," Phil said, but started to move. He got his knees under him, still spread wide on the bed, presenting his ass. His cock was half-hard between his legs, the tip just brushing the coverlet as he moved. His head and shoulders were still on the pillow though. "This okay?"
"Perfect. You look fucking gorgeous like that, Phil," Clint said. Phil blushed deep pink from his scalp down to his shoulders.
Clint slid his fingers out to grab more lube and Phil whined at the loss. On impulse Clint leaned in and bit Phil hard on one perfect ass cheek.
"Fuck, yeah," Phil said, his voice a breathy moan, so Clint did it again, slathering more lube on his hard cock as he did. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to come again, but that didn't matter. Phil wanted a hard pounding, and that's what Clint was going to give him. He straightened up and used his slick hand to position himself, then wiped it on the towel. With both hands wrapped firmly around Phil's hip-bones, he pushed slowly in.
It felt incredible. He'd only had sex without a condom a couple of times in his life, and he'd forgotten how different it was; how perfect the tight, slick heat was; how it lit up all his nerve endings. Under him, Phil was moaning and rocking a little, trying to push himself back further onto Clint's cock. Clint tightened his grip on Phil's hips and stroked slowly out then back in.
Phil moaned. "God, yeah. Please."
Clint pulled out and thrust in again. And again. He set a steady, even pace that he knew he could maintain for a while, wanting to give Phil as much as he could. Under him, Phil was moaning and gasping and swearing, making it sound like this was the best sex of his entire life. Which went straight to Clint's libido and started to make it difficult to keep to an even pace.
"Harder. More. Harder, please Clint fuck me. Fucking give it to me. Please. I need to feel it. Split me fucking open." There was no way Clint could maintain any kind of control in the face of Phil's begging to be reamed. Clint let loose, gripping Phil's hips so hard he was surely leaving bruises, and pistoning his own hips harder and faster.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah," Phil wailed "Oh, god. Yeah." Phil's ass clenched around Clint hard and Phil's hips nearly jerked out of his tight grasp. "Fuck. I need..." Clint felt his own orgasm building as his balls drew up tight and his rhythm disintegrated to a series of short hard jabs. He wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer, but he needed to try make sure Phil was satisfied, first. He moved one hand off Phil's hip and reached under him, immediately finding Phil's hot, full cock and wrapping his fingers around it.
Phil gave an inarticulate cry and thrust frantically into his hand. His whole body tensed and he screamed as he started to come. Clint felt Phil's cock pulsing, covering his fingers in warm wetness. Clint let himself go, pistoning his hips, fucking Phil through his orgasm and chasing his own. For long seconds he was suspended on the edge, everything bright and tense, and then Phil clenched him tightly and he was there, coming with a shout. He curled over Phil's back, using the hand from Phil's hip to support himself on the bed, his other hand still curled protectively around Phil's cock. He rested his forehead between Phil's shoulder blades.
"Just need a minute," he panted.
"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere," Phil said, and Clint laughed and kissed the back of his neck. He moved anyway, levering himself up and withdrawing slowly. He used the a corner of the towel to clean them both up and keep most of the mess off the coverlet.
"You know, I think now maybe I could sleep," Phil mumbled.
"Good, here," Clint said, climbing off the bed and sweeping everything to the floor. He turned the covers back and with a groan, Phil slid under them. Clint smiled and blew out the candles, then walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in. He was a little surprised when Phil's arm grabbed his and pulled him close.
"Haven't slept with anyone in ages. Want to enjoy this," he said by way of explanation, his eyes still closed.
"Anything you want, Phil," Clint said softly, cuddling him close. "Anything you want."
Clint woke up and the first thing he became aware of was the warm, solid presence in the bed beside him. His memories of the night before flooded back, and he opened his eyes to find Phil Coulson's watching him.
"Good morning." There was a small smile on Phil's lips and a twinkle in his eye that made Clint want to lean forward and kiss him. But he wasn't sure... and Phil must have picked up on that, because his face changed.
"So, go ahead, get it over with," Clint said, resigned.
"Get what over with?"
"The little speech about how we need to be professional and pretend this never happened that you're going to give me." Clint rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't that he was in love with Phil or anything, but last night had been... nice. Having Phil trust him like that, letting Clint see him when he was needy and vulnerable. And the sex had been pretty fucking incredible. He could handle hearing Phil say it never happened, but Clint didn't want to have to see his face while he said it.
"Actually, I was trying to figure out how to ask you if you were, ah, up for another round. Last night was," Clint turned his head back and saw that Phil was blushing a little, "the best sex I've had in a very, very long time. The best night I've had in a very long time, and I, ah, don't want it to be over just yet. But I understand if you–" Clint surged towards him and cut him off with a kiss.
Phil pulled Clint to him, running his hands down Clint's back and grasping his ass firmly. He thrust up with his hips, letting Clint know in no uncertain terms how much he meant what he'd just said as his hard cock rubbed against Clint's thigh.
"Phil," Clint said, pulling his mouth away and staring at the man under him. Then he realized that he had no idea what he wanted to say next.
"Is there something in particular you'd like?" Phil asked. The twinkle was back in his eyes. "You let me call the shots last night, so if there's something you want, I'd very much like to give it to you."
Clint kissed his mouth, then his jaw, then nipped lightly at the hickey on Phil's neck that he'd left the night before. Phil shivered under him and his cock twitched against Clint's thigh. "You really like that," he said. "I wish..." Clint nipped at the bruise instead of finishing his thought. He wasn't ready to tell Phil that he wished this could be something real. He wished he could have another night, and another, to learn Phil's body properly and give him everything he craved and more. "Fuck me," he whispered instead, and Phil's cock twitched again.
"Gladly," Phil said, and Clint laughed, then kissed him again, deep and filthy. "Tell me what you like," Phil said breathlessly when Clint finally pulled his mouth away.
Clint didn't know how to answer that. Didn't know how to put what he wanted into words. More than anything else, he wanted Phil's attention. Phil Coulson was so competent, so solid and steady... so... sure. Clint wanted that focused on him, and him alone.
"Just... last night you said," it was Clint's turn to blush and he closed his eyes to hide from what he was saying. What he was asking for. "You, uh, said you'd like to take your time with me."
"Would you like that, Clint? Do you want to lie back and let me touch you, let me explore your body with my hands and my mouth before I open you up and fuck you?" Phil's voice was low and gravelly and a little dangerous.
"Yes. Oh fuck, yes, Phil." Clint's eyes were still closed but now his cock was hard and pulsing against Phil's.
"Roll over," Phil said, and it was almost an order. Clint moved off Phil and rolled onto his back. "You going to be warm enough if I move the covers?"
"Sure." Clint was looking up and where Phil had climbed to his knees on the bed.
"Close your eyes and breath for me. Nice and slow, in and out. Try not to think. Just relax and let me..." Phil's words were soft, and Clint let his eyes slip closed and tried to relax. He felt Phil's lips on his closed eyelids, first one, then the other, and that should have been weird but instead it felt incredibly intimate. Phil shifted beside him and Clint felt lips brush his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Slow, light teasing kisses that crept down his chest. Clint tensed, waiting.
"Relax," Phil whispered, and Clint tried to, but jumped when Phil's fingers closed around his throbbing cock and started to stroke him lightly. "Relax," Phil whispered again and Clint took a long breath in and out, and then matched his breathing to the slow gentle strokes on his cock. "That's it," Phil said, and his lips brushed Clint's nipple.
Clint moaned and arched up into Phil's touch.
"Easy," Phil whispered, slowing his strokes on Clint's cock, but continuing to tease Clint's nipple with light brushes of his lips. "That's it," he said as Clint took another deep breath and relaxed, letting the sensations wash over him. Phil went to work with lips and tongue, licking and sucking lightly at first, then increasing the pressure to just the right side of pain. Clint moaned again, long and loud.
"Good?" Phil asked, releasing his nipple and reaching across his chest to tweak the other one.
"So good, Phil. So fucking good." Clint had his eyes closed so that he could pretend, just for a few minutes, that Phil was his lover and not just his co-worker and sometimes boss. Pretend that Phil was doing this for him, making him feel this good because he wanted to, and not just because he was returning a favor. Clint felt the bed move as Phil shifted again and then Phil's lips were on his in a hard, insistent kiss. Clint opened to him and his moan was stifled by Phil's tongue which thrust into his mouth and filled it in a rough claim. Clint was only too happy to submit. To turn his body over to Phil. He trusted Phil, with everything.
Above him, Phil was kissing him roughly but still stroking his cock slowly. When his mouth was finally released, Clint opened his eyes and the sight of Phil Coulson leaning over him, hair mussed, chest heaving, pupils dark, staring down at him as if he was something special. It made Clint want things he'd never wanted before.
"Phil," Clint said, and barely recognized his own voice.
Without warning, Phil reached up and pinched Clint's still-sensitive nipple hard, exactly the way he liked it. Instead of arching this time, Clint sighed as a wave of pleasure swept through his whole body.
"Yeah," he said on a soft exhale. "Oh god, yeah."
"You are so fucking gorgeous," Phil said. "I can hardly believe this is real. That I get to have you."
"Anything you want, Phil," Clint said and he knew he was going to start begging in a second, and didn't care. "Take me. Take whatever you want. Want you to. Please."
"Oh, I'm going to," Phil's voice had dropped into the low dangerous growl again, and Clint hadn't thought he could possibly get any more turned on, but apparently, a dominant Phil Coulson was digging up kinks Clint didn't knew he had. Phil's hand left his cock and blunt fingernails scratched over his balls. He whined and spread his legs wide. "That's it, open up for me," Phil growled, and eased his fingers between Clint's ass cheeks, putting firm pressure on his hole.
"Yes. I'm going to take you. I'm going to fuck you hard. You want that, Clint?"
"Yes, fuck. Phil." Clint was whining again, the dry pressure on his ass was maddening.
"Good." The pressure disappeared and the bed shifted again. Clint heard the 'click' of the bottle of lube being opened and he spread his legs further, drawing one knee up to give Phil easier access. He waited to feel slick fingers at his ass, but instead Phil scratched at his nipple with the callused edge of his thumb.
Clint realized that Phil was going to go at his own pace, no matter what, so he just took another deep breath in and out, trying to let the sensation wash over him. His cock was hard and throbbing and leaking onto his belly, but rather that reaching for it, Clint raised his arms above his head. Since the headboard of his bed didn't have bars be could hold onto, he grabbed his left wrist with his right hand and vice-versa. He heard a gasp, and opened his eyes with a smile.
"Like the view?" he asked. Phil was staring at him with obvious appreciation.
"Very, very much. I'd..." Phil stopped and shook his head, then leaned forward and took Clint's nipple into his mouth again, sucking hard. Now Clint felt a slick touch at his hole and sighed in relief as two of Phil's fingers slid into him.
"Yeah, oh yeah," Clint said. "Can't wait for you to fuck me. Felt great last night when I rode you, you've got a gorgeous cock, just perfect for my ass. Want to feel you pounding me, Phil. Taking me. Want to feel your strength. Your power. You're so fucking powerful, Phil. Want you to make me feel it." Clint babbled as Phil worked his ass with two then three fingers, thrusting and twisting. His nipple was swollen and sore under the onslaught of Phil's mouth, but that only added to Clint's pleasure. He loved feeling overwhelmed with sensation, and a little spark of pain made the pleasure so much sweeter.
Then Phil's fingers brushed his happy button and he couldn't help but arch off the bed and moan. Phil raised his head and chuckled.
"That's good for you, then?"
"Fuck," Clint said when he could breathe again and pried his eyes open to see Phil looking into his.
"Jesus, the things I want to do to you."
"Anything, Phil," Clint said, and he meant it. He was up for anything Phil wanted from him.
Phil shook his head and twisted his fingers again, sending sparks through Clint. Phil moved, crawling between Clint's legs and urging one muscular thigh up onto his shoulder.
"Gonna fuck you now," he growled.
Clint was suddenly desperate for one last kiss, but instead he nodded and closed his eyes. Phil didn't waste any time sliding his fingers out and adding more lube to his cock. Clint felt the warm blunt nudge at his hole, but nothing else. He opened his eyes to find Phil staring down at him, expression indecipherable.
After another long moment, Phil eased his hips forward and slid his thick hard cock into Clint. "So good," Clint moaned. "Phil, you feel so good."
Phil was still staring down at him, his face looking... not sad, but... wistful. Clint unclasped his hands and reached up to cup the side of Phil's face. Phil's eyes slid closed and then he turned his head and kissed Clint's palm. Of everything they'd done together in the past twelve hours, somehow that felt to most intimate to Clint, and he had to swallow around the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat.
Phil's tongue snaked out to lick at Clint's palm, and at the same time he gave a little thrust with his hips, pushing his cock into Clint as far as it would go. Clint cried out.
"Oh fuck, Phil. Fuck me. Please fuck me, Phil."
Phil drew out slowly, still tickling Clint's palm with his tongue and Clint thought he was going to go crazy from pleasure. Then Phil thrust back in, hard, and Clint moaned. One of Phil's hands gripped his thigh firmly for leverage. Phil's other hand planted on the bed near Clint's shoulder, bending Clint in half. Then Phil licked up Clint's palm and sucked Clint's first two fingers into his mouth.
Phil's eyes were open, staring into Clint's, pinning him in place with the force of his gaze. Phil sucked Clint's fingers, hollowing his cheeks. Clint gasped at the sensation, imagining it on his cock instead of his fingers, which was no doubt what Phil intended. Then Phil began to thrust with his hips in a even rhythm. Fucking Clint. Fucking him slowly and deliberately. Pushing into him again and again with every ounce of Phil Coulson's firm determination.
Clint felt like he was dissolving into a puddle. The perfect pressure of Phil's cock in his ass, the hot wetness of Phil's mouth around his fingers, Phil's grip on his thigh, and Phil's eyes. Phil's eyes which were staring into his as if they answers to the questions of the universe were hidden there, and Phil could read them if he just looked hard enough.
"Phil," Clint sobbed out, not caring that he sounded broken, not caring that Phil could see and hear and feel what this slow, deliberate fucking was doing to him.
Phil moaned around Clint's fingers, and the sound made Clint shudder. He wanted more... needed more... more of Phil. He tilted his hips up further, using his abs to steady himself and give Phil a better angle, then he reached for Phil's shoulder and gripped it tightly. Phil was still sucking industriously on his fingers, and Clint used the thumb of that hand to stroke at the bite-mark he'd left on Phil's neck the night before. That made Phil moan again, and his rhythm stuttered, and then sped up.
"Yeah, Phil fuck me. Fuck me hard. Feels so good. Your cock feels so good inside me, Phil." Clint said, and thought, 'I'm going to miss it so much.'
Phil shifted his weight forward and found the perfect angle. Clint cried out as Phil's cock nudged his prostate again and again, sending waves of pleasure through him. It felt like he'd been hard forever. On the edge forever, and he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. He looked up into Phil's eyes, which were still staring into his.
Phil opened his mouth and let Clint's fingers slip out.
"Fuck yeah. So close." Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Phil was leaning forward, bending Clint in half and kissing him, hard and demanding. Phil stilled his hips, fucking Clint's mouth with his tongue instead. Phil's cock felt huge in his ass and Clint's cock throbbed, trapped against his stomach. Clint whined around Phil's tongue.
Phil pulled back and started to fuck him again, hard and fast. "Touch yourself," he said, and Clint's hand flew to his cock, using the wet fingers to stroke the underside, just below the head.
"M'gonna come," Clint gasped, and Phil fucked him harder, slamming his hips against Clint's ass. "Fuck. Yes. Phil," Clint yelled as he started to come, splattering his own stomach. Phil fucked him through his climax, eyes wide, sweat trickling down the side of his face, mouth set in a determined line. Clint thought he was absolutely gorgeous. "C'mon Phil," he said, clenching his ass around Phil's cock "Let it go. Come inside me."
Phil thrust once more then froze, his eyes snapping shut. He made a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat and Clint thought he could feel his cock pulsing as it spilled inside him.
Slowly, Phil's body relaxed. He opened his eyes and saw Clint watching him. A small, shy smile appeared on his lips, and Clint couldn't stop himself from saying, "Come here so I can kiss you some more."
Phil's smile grew wider and he slipped Clint's thigh off his shoulder, then collapsed on top of him. Clint ended up kissing his cheek instead of his mouth, but having his arms wrapped around a happy, sated, post-coital Phil Coulson was enough consolation so he didn't mind.
After a minute, Phil propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Clint with a happy, contented smile on his face. He kissed Clint warmly, wetly, and thoroughly.
"Thank you," he said when he finally pulled back. "This is the best I've felt in a very, very long time."
Clint reached up and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. He didn't want to let go. Didn't want this to end. Didn't want Phil to just get up and leave and have everything go back to the way it was... 'Maybe,' he thought on a crazy impulse, 'it doesn't have to.'
When they separated again, Phil still looking happy, Clint slid his hand down to Phil's neck so that he could brush the mark he'd left with the ball of his thumb. "Look, if I'm out of line here, just say and I'll shut up and never mention it again, but, um, it seems like this was really good for both of us. It's uh, been a while since I was with someone who made me feel this, ah... good. So I was thinking maybe we could do it again sometime? If you wanted? No strings or anything, just, you know, friends having a good time together..." Clint trailed off as he watched thoughts and emotions play across Phil's face.
Phil leaned in and kissed Clint softly on the lips. He steeled himself for Phil's polite refusal.
"That's very sweet of you, Clint, but I know you just did this because Jasper asked you to help me relax. You don't have to do any more."
"I said yes when Sitwell asked because I was worried about you - because he was worried about you. But I swear to god, Phil, last night and this morning was some of the best sex I've ever had in my life. I'm not just saying that to be nice or to stroke your ego. We're good together, really good."
"I admit that I do like the idea of spending more time with this gorgeous body of yours," Phil said, palming Clint's chest.
"So why not? I mean it's not like we have time to date, given our jobs. This is the perfect solution."
"Fine, so long as I never, ever hear you use the term 'fuckbuddies.' It's crass."
"Friends with benefits?" asked Clint with a cheeky grin on his face.
"How about just 'friends,'" Coulson said, looking serious.
Clint swallowed. "Yeah. That's good. Friends."