Fic: Stress Relief, NC-17, Clint/Coulson
Title: Stress Relief
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Fandom: Avengers, MCU
Word Count: 857
Summary: Phil had a bad day at work, and Clint tries to help relieve the stress. It's working incredibly well, when something goes wrong. Phil pretty much loves this man, in ridiculous amounts. Sequel to Aw, ____, no.
Warnings: Pretty much PWP
Author's Notes: I honestly wasn't planning a sequel to Aw, ____, no. but this thought entered my head and would not leave. So it's really just a snippet, starting and ending in the middle of a sex scene. If you're someone who needs a "happy ending" (sexually, not thematically) in fic, you might want to give this a skip. If not, enjoy!
AO3 link here: desert_neon at AO3
“Clint,” Phil said, and he knew what he sounded like, knew his voice was rough. He really didn’t care.
“Yeah?” Clint confirmed, and then he shifted, sliding his knee along the mattress which resulted in his cock sliding more deeply into Phil, and Phil’s throat tightened around a completely undignified sound. “You like that? You like that, sir?”
Phil shuddered, and the hand that was firm on his back twitched, fingers digging into his skin for just a moment. He’d been meaning to talk to Clint for almost a couple of weeks now, to ask him not to call him “sir” in bed, because there had to be some delineation between their work and personal lives. Somehow, it hadn’t happened yet.
Clint’s hand moved, and Phil tried not to be disappointed. He’d been enjoying the feel of it, the warm pressure, rough with callouses, holding him down. Clint was still thrusting into him though, with punishing force, and it was everything Phil needed after a long, bad day at HQ. He could feel the tension leaking out of him as Clint fucked him, hard and unrelenting, and so very, very good.
The mattress dipped on either side of Phil’s head, Clint’s hands holding his weight as he leaned over Phil, his skin hot along the length of Phil’s back. He had one foot on the floor and one knee on the bed, bracing himself against both as he pounded down into Phil, hitting his prostate on every other stroke. Hot breath ghosted along his shoulder, making him shiver, and then there was a kiss laid there, sweet and unexpected.
Phil twisted his neck, seeking, and Clint set his mouth to Phil’s, the angle awkward and their tongues sloppy, and Phil groaned as he turned away slightly, unable to keep his head back that far for long. Clint slid his lips to Phil’s jaw instead and nipped roughly, then soothed with a quick lick and a kiss.
“S’good, Phil,” Clint said, his voice slurred with lust. “Fuck. So good.”
“Yes,” Phil agreed on a hiss, because it was. His skin was on fire, his breath coming in short, loud gasps, and his dick kept rubbing against the sheets, the mattress firm with just the right amount of give beneath him. His orgasm was building, a matter of mere minutes now, and his body was starting to tense up again, but in the best possible way. “Clint. I can’t . . .”
“I know,” Clint muttered. “I know, Phil. It’s okay. I got you. You can let go. Want you to. Wanna make you forget every-” There was a grunt then, and Clint’s hips stuttered, stopped for a moment, and then pulled back. “Shit. Hang on a sec.”
A surprised breath forced its way out of Phil as Clint pulled out, and he turned his head to look behind him. Clint was looking down at his own dick, his expression one of extreme disappointment and petulance.
“Aw, condom, no.”
And Phil fucking lost it. He started laughing, loud, uncontrollable giggles that took his breath away. He buried his face in the mattress and just let loose, shaking with it, ignoring the cramps that appeared every time he tried to breathe and just ended up laughing more. He felt Clint move on the bed, felt him stretch and reach, and then come back. He was still laughing though, lost to his mirth, and when Clint wrapped a hand around his shoulder and tugged gently, he rolled with a smile, breathing cool air and gaining back some of his legendary control.
“You done?” Clint asked, but there was a smile hovering around his mouth and his eyes flashed amusement.
“I think so,” Phil replied, but he was still chuckling a bit, little surprised bursts of amusement. “It was just-”
He didn’t get the chance to explain though, as Clint dropped down, swooping in to claim Phil’s lips in a kiss. “It’s good to hear you laugh,” Clint whispered when the kiss ended, his voice husky.
Phil’s heart turned over in his chest. They hadn’t talked much about it, about what they’d started, or what they were to each other. Words weren’t always his strong suit - certainly not when it came to personal matters - and they definitely weren’t Clint’s, so it was entirely possible that they might never have the actual conversation. But that was all right; Phil was pretty sure they didn’t really need to. So he pressed his lips to Clint’s again, and Clint groaned, rocking their bodies together and letting his weight settle over Phil.
“You get a new one?” Phil asked, already feeling a little breathless once more.
“Yeah,” Clint said with a smirk. “While you were busy losing your damn mind.”
Phil huffed, though not at the phrasing. “Lost that a while ago,” he said, thinking of the way he’d first kissed Clint, with no thought or planning, no consideration for the consequences.
Clint laughed a little, then reached down to position himself. He slid in, smooth and deliciously steady, and Phil dropped his head back to the mattress, ran his hands up to Clint’s glorious biceps, and held on.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Fandom: Avengers, MCU
Word Count: 857
Summary: Phil had a bad day at work, and Clint tries to help relieve the stress. It's working incredibly well, when something goes wrong. Phil pretty much loves this man, in ridiculous amounts. Sequel to Aw, ____, no.
Warnings: Pretty much PWP
Author's Notes: I honestly wasn't planning a sequel to Aw, ____, no. but this thought entered my head and would not leave. So it's really just a snippet, starting and ending in the middle of a sex scene. If you're someone who needs a "happy ending" (sexually, not thematically) in fic, you might want to give this a skip. If not, enjoy!
AO3 link here: desert_neon at AO3
“Clint,” Phil said, and he knew what he sounded like, knew his voice was rough. He really didn’t care.
“Yeah?” Clint confirmed, and then he shifted, sliding his knee along the mattress which resulted in his cock sliding more deeply into Phil, and Phil’s throat tightened around a completely undignified sound. “You like that? You like that, sir?”
Phil shuddered, and the hand that was firm on his back twitched, fingers digging into his skin for just a moment. He’d been meaning to talk to Clint for almost a couple of weeks now, to ask him not to call him “sir” in bed, because there had to be some delineation between their work and personal lives. Somehow, it hadn’t happened yet.
Clint’s hand moved, and Phil tried not to be disappointed. He’d been enjoying the feel of it, the warm pressure, rough with callouses, holding him down. Clint was still thrusting into him though, with punishing force, and it was everything Phil needed after a long, bad day at HQ. He could feel the tension leaking out of him as Clint fucked him, hard and unrelenting, and so very, very good.
The mattress dipped on either side of Phil’s head, Clint’s hands holding his weight as he leaned over Phil, his skin hot along the length of Phil’s back. He had one foot on the floor and one knee on the bed, bracing himself against both as he pounded down into Phil, hitting his prostate on every other stroke. Hot breath ghosted along his shoulder, making him shiver, and then there was a kiss laid there, sweet and unexpected.
Phil twisted his neck, seeking, and Clint set his mouth to Phil’s, the angle awkward and their tongues sloppy, and Phil groaned as he turned away slightly, unable to keep his head back that far for long. Clint slid his lips to Phil’s jaw instead and nipped roughly, then soothed with a quick lick and a kiss.
“S’good, Phil,” Clint said, his voice slurred with lust. “Fuck. So good.”
“Yes,” Phil agreed on a hiss, because it was. His skin was on fire, his breath coming in short, loud gasps, and his dick kept rubbing against the sheets, the mattress firm with just the right amount of give beneath him. His orgasm was building, a matter of mere minutes now, and his body was starting to tense up again, but in the best possible way. “Clint. I can’t . . .”
“I know,” Clint muttered. “I know, Phil. It’s okay. I got you. You can let go. Want you to. Wanna make you forget every-” There was a grunt then, and Clint’s hips stuttered, stopped for a moment, and then pulled back. “Shit. Hang on a sec.”
A surprised breath forced its way out of Phil as Clint pulled out, and he turned his head to look behind him. Clint was looking down at his own dick, his expression one of extreme disappointment and petulance.
“Aw, condom, no.”
And Phil fucking lost it. He started laughing, loud, uncontrollable giggles that took his breath away. He buried his face in the mattress and just let loose, shaking with it, ignoring the cramps that appeared every time he tried to breathe and just ended up laughing more. He felt Clint move on the bed, felt him stretch and reach, and then come back. He was still laughing though, lost to his mirth, and when Clint wrapped a hand around his shoulder and tugged gently, he rolled with a smile, breathing cool air and gaining back some of his legendary control.
“You done?” Clint asked, but there was a smile hovering around his mouth and his eyes flashed amusement.
“I think so,” Phil replied, but he was still chuckling a bit, little surprised bursts of amusement. “It was just-”
He didn’t get the chance to explain though, as Clint dropped down, swooping in to claim Phil’s lips in a kiss. “It’s good to hear you laugh,” Clint whispered when the kiss ended, his voice husky.
Phil’s heart turned over in his chest. They hadn’t talked much about it, about what they’d started, or what they were to each other. Words weren’t always his strong suit - certainly not when it came to personal matters - and they definitely weren’t Clint’s, so it was entirely possible that they might never have the actual conversation. But that was all right; Phil was pretty sure they didn’t really need to. So he pressed his lips to Clint’s again, and Clint groaned, rocking their bodies together and letting his weight settle over Phil.
“You get a new one?” Phil asked, already feeling a little breathless once more.
“Yeah,” Clint said with a smirk. “While you were busy losing your damn mind.”
Phil huffed, though not at the phrasing. “Lost that a while ago,” he said, thinking of the way he’d first kissed Clint, with no thought or planning, no consideration for the consequences.
Clint laughed a little, then reached down to position himself. He slid in, smooth and deliciously steady, and Phil dropped his head back to the mattress, ran his hands up to Clint’s glorious biceps, and held on.