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Phil bends to scoop up the tac vest that’s by the front door. The sound of the shower starts and then there’s a yelp from the bathroom, probably from Clint trying to get under the water before it’s had a chance to properly heat up.
He goes about the rest of the safehouse, picking up boots and socks and knives as he goes, the everyday detritus of Clint Barton, til he’s laden with a bundle of clothes that smell intoxicatingly of Clint. It’s not that he means to smell them, but it’s hard not to when they’re right there under his nose. He closes his eyes and inhales, gathering himself after a long day. The clothes are still warm from Clint’s body heat, and Phil hugs them to his chest and stops just short of burying his face in them.
He shakes his head and turns to dump the stuff in the bedroom, leaving it in a pile on one side of the twin bed. He might pick stuff up but he’s not about to fold it or put it away. Even if his fingers do itch to do just that, he has to draw a line somewhere.
He goes back to the living room to get his bag, planning on putting his own stuff away in the drawers to take his mind off things, when he spots the underwear.
They’re a simple pair of dark purple boxer briefs that he must have missed on the first sweep, off to one side of the couch. Phil scoops them up to add them to the pile in the bedroom, but he stops when he realises how soft they are, rubbing the fabric between his fingers and instinctively lifting them up to his face to see if they smell any different from the rest of Clint’s stuff. He’s not really thinking about it, it just happens, just like how it’s completely unintentional that he lets himself lean back against the couch and inhale deeply, just like how he presses the heel of his hand against his crotch at the same time.
“Phil?”
Phil’s eyes fly open and he’s confronted by Clint, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, naked as a jaybird. Phil ’s so blindsided that he can’t help but look down and get an eye-full of Clint’s crotch, hip muscles pointing him there like an arrow. Belatedly, he realises that the damn underpants are still pressed to his face. He meets Clint’s eye and swallows. “It’s not- I didn’t-“ He puts the underwear behind his back.
Clint looks shocked but amused. Gleeful, even. “Were you smelling my underwear?” he asks, and Phil shakes his head even though all evidence points to the contrary. “You were, weren’t you?” He looks Phil up and down, eyes lingering on Phil’s crotch, which still has a hand pressed to it. He comes closer slowly, as if he’s stalking prey. Phil stays rooted to the spot, though he does move his hand off of his dick, because that seems like the polite thing to do.
“You like how I smell, Phil?” he purrs, coming close enough to drip on him. Clint puts a hand on Phil’s chest, pinning him against the couch, swiftly moving downwards. “You do, don’t you?” he says, hand going lower still, til it can brush gently over the hard length beneath, erasing any doubt. Clint smiles when he feels it, and all Phil can do is be indignant.
“Maybe you should just stop leaving your stuff everywhere.” It’s a pretty pathetic rebuttal and they both know it. Phil looks at Clint’s ever-closer lips as he says, “What do you expect? Leaving your crap all around...”
Clint grips Phil’s cock through his trousers on the last word and Phil’s voice does something undignified. “What do I expect?” Clint asks, the shower still streaming behind him, wasting all the hot water and fogging up the place. “What I expect, sir,” he meets Phil’s eyes and Phil shivers, “is a reward when I do as well as I did today.” He rubs over the tip of Phil’s cock. “Don’t you think that’s fair?”
Phil swallows. “That seems… fair,” he agrees, though he has no idea what he’s agreeing to, really. A drip of water runs down Clint’s chest and Phil licks his lips. “What do you want?”
“I want sex,” Clint replies, voice quiet but sure. As if he’s entitled to it and it’s Phil’s job to give it to him. He nods, because that certainly does seem fair as far as Phil’s concerned.
“Do you have any preference for how-“
“I wanna fuck you,” Clint interrupts, and then Phil can’t say anything because Clint’s kissing him. He lets go of Phil’s dick in favour of slipping his hands around Phil’s waist to hold him in place. The underwear is forgotten, falling to the seat of the couch behind them. “Ok?”
Clint steps back far enough that Phil can nod ‘ok’ before grabbing the front of Phil’s belt, pulling him to the bedroom with it. Phil’s rewarded with a pretty great view of Clint’s ass before he’s tossed onto the bed, the heap of clothes he put there earlier getting swept to the floor.
“Take off your clothes,” Clint says, leaving the room to turn off the shower, which Phil thinks about vaguely as he strips in record time. How conscientious, he thinks, what a good guy, til Clint comes back in with his bag and pulls out a towel. He rubs his hair and lazily sweeps it over the rest of his body as he roots through the toiletry bag he must have come out of the shower in search of. He’s drying his cock and balls when he turns back around, and Phil stops unbuttoning his cuffs to just look.
“Like what you see?” Clint asks, and Phil wordlessly nods in affirmation. Clint’s cock is hard and perfect, so Phil whips his shirt off as fast as he can so he can keep on staring at it. Clint grips his cock, like he’s brandishing it at Phil. “Think you can take me?”
Phil swallows. “It’s been a while, you might have to go slow.”
Clint stalks over with a condom and a bottle of lube, tossing the damp towel to the floor atop their clothes. He catches Phil pursing his lips at the messiness and grins.
“I think you can take it.” Clint gets to the end of the bed and pulls Phil’s shoes and socks off, pulling Phil’s trousers away once Phil’s undone the belt. “The way you were smelling my jocks just now? Seems like you need a good fuck.”
“And you’re just the man to give it to me, huh?”
Clint grins, crawling close enough to tug at Phil’s underwear, which go easily when Phil lifts his hips. His cock is so hard it slaps against his belly. Clint nods. “That’s right.” He runs the tips of his fingers over Phil’s cock, which jumps as he does it. “Turn over, show me your ass.”
Phil does as he’s told and Clint’s sure hands push at Phil’s legs til he’s on all fours with his knees spread. He feels naked and exposed, but Clint’s right there, hands smoothing over the skin of his thighs and his back. “You got such a fucking good ass, sir,” he says, a dry finger running down the length of Phil’s crack and over his balls. “Been wanting to do this forever.”
“Reall-“ Phil’s disbelief is cut off when a hot tongue presses against his hole, and he yelps again before it turns into a moan. Clint grips Phil’s hips and holds him in place, working his tongue over and over him. Phil can’t say anything at all, lost in the sensation of having his asshole gently but insistently teased open by Clint’s tongue and the solid knowledge that Clint’s cock is going to be buried in him at some point tonight. He wasn’t lying when he said it had been a while, and even without touching himself he’s scared he might come embarrassingly fast.
He doesn’t realise he’s rocking back into Clint’s ministrations til there’s a huff of breath against his skin and a light slap against his thigh. “Relax, sir, you wanted me to go slow, remember? You’ll get my cock soon enough.”
“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” Phil snipes back, and there’s another slap that makes him grunt.
He’s seriously considering pulling rank and ordering Clint to get on with things when a finger is pushed inside him and he gasps instead. “Oh so that’s what you wanted, huh?” Clint laughs, and Phil makes an incomprehensible sound that even he’s not sure the meaning of.
“Infuriating,” he manages, once he’s gotten used to the intrusion and can speak again using human words. “Goddamn-“ he’s cut off again when Clint slips in another finger, cool with lube. “Fuck.”
“Opening up real easy, boss,” Clint says, smug as anything. “Think you can take me yet?”
“Never took you to be so conscientious,” Phil replies, giving in and rocking back against him. Clint’s fingers have never done anything better as far as Phil’s concerned. “C’mon.”
“Shit, ok, ok. Just-“ Phil feels cold as Clint pulls away, and shivers at the sound of Clint putting a condom on. This is happening. This is actually happening. He jumps when cold lube is unceremoniously squirted onto him and Clint apologises, rubbing it in and sliding his fingers around just because.
“God, you got a good ass,” Clint says to himself, and Phil buries his face in the pillows because no he does not. “You do,” Clint says. “Best ass in SHIELD.” He gives it a slap and then kind of gropes both of Phil’s asscheeks for a moment. Phil shakes his head and then stops when one of those hands slides all the way up his back to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy and you don’t even know it, do you?”
Phil half turns over, because Clint sounds so earnest and he needs to see if this is a joke. Needs to see if Clint’s just fucking with him. Clint just smiles, though it’s a bashful smile and there’s colour rising in his cheeks. This of all things is what makes him shy? “You are,” Clint assures.
Clint’s kind of in the way but Phil rolls onto his back so he can reach for him, pull him into a deep, heated kiss, trying to put more words than he can say out loud into it. Their cocks slide between them til they’re awkwardly humping against each other, so Phil cups the back of Clint’s head to keep him there, kissing him as he reaches down with the other hand to try and arrange things a little better. Clint laughs against his mouth, more a huff of air through his nose than anything, but he lends a hand, helpful as always, til he’s sliding right where he needs to be. The friction is exquisite, and all it takes is a cant of Phil’s hips and he’s slipping in, making them both break out of the kiss to make sweet sounds of pleasure and desperation.
“Fuck, Phil,” Clint pants, mouth against Phil’s chin as he starts to move. He falls into a rhythm and Phil lets him, holding on with his legs tightly wrapped around Clint’s waist.
He realises just how much he’s clinging when Clint pulls away, his arms aching once he’s unlocked enough to let him go. Clint doesn’t go far, still deep inside him, but he looks down at Phil with lidded eyes and cheeks so pink he looks half drugged. They gaze at each other for a moment, with Clint still moving his hips and filling Phil up ever more, til Phil laughs. “This what you wanted?”
Clint grins and swoops down to kiss Phil again, lighter kisses that he doesn’t let Phil turn into anything deeper, teasing like always. “This is definitely what I wanted,” he replies, and Phil thinks he’s going to kiss him properly for a moment, but then Clint pulls out completely. “Turn over.”
Phil lets out a little moan and does as he’s told, though his legs already feel weak. Clint helps him though, strong, sure hands putting him right where he needs to be before more cool lube is smoothed over his hole again. “Look how much you want it,” Clint murmurs, and Phil arches his back and pushes his chest against the bed because it’s true.
“Want you,” he corrects, “your cock.”
“S’that right?” Clint asks, sliding back inside Phil like it’s nothing and everything all at once. “Are you only a slut like this for me?” Phil’s gone enough that he’d freely admit anything right now, and he nods against the sheets. “I thought about this,” Clint continues, hips moving faster, cock driving ever deeper. “Thought about coming in to your office just to have you suck me off, taking you over your desk...”
Phil whines and pushes back to meet every one of Clint’s thrusts. He doesn’t care if Clint realises how wanton he is, it’s too good to care about anything right now.
Clint slides one hand around Phil’s hips, and Phil thinks for a moment he’s going to jerk him off, but then the other hand slides under his chest and he’s being pulled up, back pressed against Clint’s front, held there, impaled on Clint’s cock and presented to the world.
“And I’d fuck you, and come in you-“ Clint says, hot breath against Phil’s ear. Phil nods, eyes closing to imagine just that. “And watch you walk around like you own the world knowing my come was inside you.”
“Clint-“ Phil manages, and he’s about to beg, either for Clint to stop talking or to keep going and make all of this so much worse, but then Clint tugs on Phil’s earlobe with his teeth and all he’s able to do is moan and grind his hips back into Clint’s.
Clint holds him, squeezes Phil against his body as he fucks him, and they both lose themselves to it. Phil’s left his own cock alone for fear of coming immediately if he touches it, until Clint stops sucking Phil’s neck long enough to mutter, “Touch yourself”. Even that’s not quite enough for Clint, though, and he wraps his own hand around Phil’s to guide him.
“You gonna come, sir?” Clint asks, the arm around Phil’s chest feeling like warm steel. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more safe or more powerless. “You gonna come with my dick inside you?” Phil swears something incomprehensible and Clint makes him squeeze his own fist, slowing down til it’s agonising. He grinds his hips at the same time til he’s as deep as can be. The hand over Phil’s chest shifts til it finds a nipple and squeezes, and just like that, Phil’s world explodes.
He loses the thread then, orgasm singing out of him as Clint starts fucking him hard and fast, holding onto Phil as he comes across the sheets, and it feels like it goes on for years. Phil’s still coming when Clint’s movements stutter into randomness as he comes too, and Phil’s cock spurts again at the very idea of the come filling the condom Clint’s wearing, imagining him making good on those promises (threats?) from moments earlier.
They’re both panting as they peel apart, and Phil sort of flops onto the bed, wrung out completely. Clint gets up and does something, probably putting the condom in the trash and cleaning himself up. Phil would look for curiosity’s sake but he doesn’t think he’ll ever move again.
“Fuck,” Clint says from the bedroom door, footsteps coming closer before the bed dips again.
Phil does manage to move, because he can’t tell if that’s a good ‘fuck’ or a bad one, and needs to see to make sure either way. Clint stops on the end of the bed, holding a roll of toilet paper. “You ok?”
Phil snorts. “More than ok. Here.” He holds his hand out for the tissue and Clint hands it over. Phil makes a go of dabbing up the spots of come on his, well, on everything.
“Think you could help?” Phil asks, and when he looks up, Clint’s clearly thinking about something.
“Nah,” he replies in the end, folding his arms. “S’my reward, so.”
Phil looks at him. “Really?”
Clint nods. “Yep,” he decides. “And then I want a nap. Together.”
“As part of your reward.” Phil tears off some more tissue and rolls the other bits into it before neatly placing the bundle on the nightstand.
“Right.”
Clint climbs up the bed, shoving the bottle of lube, the condom wrapper and any errant bits of tissue off the bed as he goes, before climbing between sheets already warm from their body heat and peering expectantly over them at Phil.
“Don’t I get to shower first?” Phil asks.
Clint shakes his head and waits, so Phil gets up, finds his underpants and puts them back on before climbing under the sheets to join him. As soon as he’s within reach, Clint grabs his hand and turns away so that Phil’s arm wraps around him from behind, making Clint a rather ungainly little spoon. Phil squeezes him and tries not to think about anything too hard. There’ll be lots of thinking soon enough, but for now, Phil can be the big spoon and concentrate on the warm weight of his best agent in his arms and the way the back of Clint’s neck makes an excellent resting place for his lips.
“You did well today, Agent,” Phil whispers, and Clint squeezes his hand.