Fic: Very Fine
Title: Very Fine
Summary: Clint just wants to have a talk about comic books.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 1009
Rating/Contents: NC-17, made up comic books
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So
shadowen asked for Clint reading Phil's comic books for the story I haven't written meme, and then this happened, because I kind of wasn't done with it.
Of all the things in the world that Phil can expect to see upon walking into his bedroom, Clint Barton, lying on his stomach, reading a comic book, his feet kicked up, completely naked, does not appear anywhere on the list.
"Don't worry, I got this one out of the Good box," Clint says, though Phil didn't need to ask, not when the bag and board are laying next to him, the G visible on the back; he also knows that Clint just plain knows better.
"I honestly don't know if this is hot or creepy," Phil says, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it up.
"Then go with hot," Clint tells him. "Come on, you were in high school when some of these came out. Don't tell me you never thought about a hot guy in your bedroom talking to you about comics."
"I didn't," Phil says, but he gives Clint an appraising look. "But I'm thinking about it now."
Clint rolls over, looking up at him. "Come on, Coulson. Talk nerdy to me." Phil snorts, walking over to the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. "If you don't want to play along, I'm putting my clothes back on," he says, sounding put out.
"Never said I wasn't playing along," Phil says, shutting the bathroom door behind him. When he comes back out, he's already naked; he climbs onto the bed, throwing a leg over Clint's hips. He sits down slowly on Clint's cock, rocking his hips as he gets accustomed to the feeling of it, the stretch. It's a little awkward to slick himself up, but it is always, always worth it for the look on Clint's face, the awe, like he can't believe this is happening to him.
Phil tries his best to keep it coming. Luckily, it's not all that hard; he's inscrutable and closed off outside of it, but in Phil's bed? He's an easy, easy mark.
Phil raises up a little, dropping back down, slowly starting to ride him. "So what were you reading?"
"What?" Clint says, distracted. "Oh, I think it was-" he gasps as Phil speeds up some, taking him deep. "It was Strange Tales, issue hundred and seventy-something? It was good. I like Doctor Strange pretty well."
Phil's very glad, all of a sudden, that he didn't pick up any of the Captain America ones. "What did he get into this time?" Phil says, moving faster; he wants to fuck with Clint as much as possible, but that's not the only objective here. "Come on," Phil coaxes, trying to sound put out. "You said you wanted to talk about comics."
"Well," Clint says, putting his hands on Phil's waist, and he's starting to get into it now, getting over being overwhelmed. "A lot of this older Doctor Strange stuff, when he's not astral projecting, it's morality tales."
"Somebody's been on Wikipedia," Phil says, moving his hips, trying to find the right spot. He groans when he manages it, so that every time he pushes down, Clint's dick glances over his prostate.
"There's a lot to know," Clint protests. "They've been making comics since the thirties, and every two years they change everything."
"Point," Phil says, but it comes out as a groan. "So go on."
"These kids are out as Makeout Point or wherever," Clint says, making a satisfied sound as Phil slows a little, dropping all the way down and grinding against him before he moves back up. "They get down to business, and then they're beset with ghosts or some shit, I don't know, Dormammu had something to do with it."
"Good reading comprehension there, Barton," Phil says, snorting.
"I was distracted," Clint protests, his fingers curling around Phil's hips, encouraging him to go faster. "One hand turning pages, one hand on my cock, kind of hard to concentrate on the- ah!- finer points."
Phil stops for a moment. "If you got come on any of my comics, I swear to God-"
"How could I?" Clint says. "I was holding off for you."
"Mmm, now there's a thought," Phil tells him, moving again.
"It's better that way," Clint tells him, thrusting up into him; they're moving faster now, not playing around anymore. "It's better when it's for you."
Phil puts a hand on Clint's chest to brace himself, bending down to kiss him. "You say the sweetest things."
Clint laughs. "Wouldn't say it if it weren't true," he says.
"I know," Phil says. "That's why it's sweet, instead of just hot. Before you ask," he says, though he's only barely getting words out, "it's very hot too."
"Good," Clint says, or at least Phil thinks that was supposed to be. It's hard to care when Clint is moving in him just right, fucking him good and hard; he's giving as good as he gets, not worried about making it last anymore, just worried about making it great.
Phil puts his hand around his cock, working it quickly. "Come on," Clint says, low and rough. "Come on, do it for me, Phil, come for me."
Phil's mouth drops open when he comes, staring down at Clint; Clint's still thrusting into him, fucking him all the way through it, past it, until he groans, pushing up hard and stilling, coming hard and deep inside him.
It's a minute or two before Phil manages to climb off him, laying down beside him; Clint turns towards him, resting his head on Phil's arm, putting a hand on his jaw and guiding him in for a kiss. "I think that was a success," Clint says, when they part.
Phil puts his free hand behind his head. "I don't know why you thought it wouldn't be," he says. "As long as you're lying in wait naked in my bed, you can be sure that you'll get pretty much anything you want."
"I'm going to hold you to that," Clint says, grinning.
"Am I supposed to complain?" Phil asks. "Pretty sure I'm the winner, here."
Clint kisses him again. "Pretty sure nobody loses."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/416664.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Clint just wants to have a talk about comic books.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 1009
Rating/Contents: NC-17, made up comic books
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So
shadowen asked for Clint reading Phil's comic books for the story I haven't written meme, and then this happened, because I kind of wasn't done with it.
Of all the things in the world that Phil can expect to see upon walking into his bedroom, Clint Barton, lying on his stomach, reading a comic book, his feet kicked up, completely naked, does not appear anywhere on the list.
"Don't worry, I got this one out of the Good box," Clint says, though Phil didn't need to ask, not when the bag and board are laying next to him, the G visible on the back; he also knows that Clint just plain knows better.
"I honestly don't know if this is hot or creepy," Phil says, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it up.
"Then go with hot," Clint tells him. "Come on, you were in high school when some of these came out. Don't tell me you never thought about a hot guy in your bedroom talking to you about comics."
"I didn't," Phil says, but he gives Clint an appraising look. "But I'm thinking about it now."
Clint rolls over, looking up at him. "Come on, Coulson. Talk nerdy to me." Phil snorts, walking over to the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. "If you don't want to play along, I'm putting my clothes back on," he says, sounding put out.
"Never said I wasn't playing along," Phil says, shutting the bathroom door behind him. When he comes back out, he's already naked; he climbs onto the bed, throwing a leg over Clint's hips. He sits down slowly on Clint's cock, rocking his hips as he gets accustomed to the feeling of it, the stretch. It's a little awkward to slick himself up, but it is always, always worth it for the look on Clint's face, the awe, like he can't believe this is happening to him.
Phil tries his best to keep it coming. Luckily, it's not all that hard; he's inscrutable and closed off outside of it, but in Phil's bed? He's an easy, easy mark.
Phil raises up a little, dropping back down, slowly starting to ride him. "So what were you reading?"
"What?" Clint says, distracted. "Oh, I think it was-" he gasps as Phil speeds up some, taking him deep. "It was Strange Tales, issue hundred and seventy-something? It was good. I like Doctor Strange pretty well."
Phil's very glad, all of a sudden, that he didn't pick up any of the Captain America ones. "What did he get into this time?" Phil says, moving faster; he wants to fuck with Clint as much as possible, but that's not the only objective here. "Come on," Phil coaxes, trying to sound put out. "You said you wanted to talk about comics."
"Well," Clint says, putting his hands on Phil's waist, and he's starting to get into it now, getting over being overwhelmed. "A lot of this older Doctor Strange stuff, when he's not astral projecting, it's morality tales."
"Somebody's been on Wikipedia," Phil says, moving his hips, trying to find the right spot. He groans when he manages it, so that every time he pushes down, Clint's dick glances over his prostate.
"There's a lot to know," Clint protests. "They've been making comics since the thirties, and every two years they change everything."
"Point," Phil says, but it comes out as a groan. "So go on."
"These kids are out as Makeout Point or wherever," Clint says, making a satisfied sound as Phil slows a little, dropping all the way down and grinding against him before he moves back up. "They get down to business, and then they're beset with ghosts or some shit, I don't know, Dormammu had something to do with it."
"Good reading comprehension there, Barton," Phil says, snorting.
"I was distracted," Clint protests, his fingers curling around Phil's hips, encouraging him to go faster. "One hand turning pages, one hand on my cock, kind of hard to concentrate on the- ah!- finer points."
Phil stops for a moment. "If you got come on any of my comics, I swear to God-"
"How could I?" Clint says. "I was holding off for you."
"Mmm, now there's a thought," Phil tells him, moving again.
"It's better that way," Clint tells him, thrusting up into him; they're moving faster now, not playing around anymore. "It's better when it's for you."
Phil puts a hand on Clint's chest to brace himself, bending down to kiss him. "You say the sweetest things."
Clint laughs. "Wouldn't say it if it weren't true," he says.
"I know," Phil says. "That's why it's sweet, instead of just hot. Before you ask," he says, though he's only barely getting words out, "it's very hot too."
"Good," Clint says, or at least Phil thinks that was supposed to be. It's hard to care when Clint is moving in him just right, fucking him good and hard; he's giving as good as he gets, not worried about making it last anymore, just worried about making it great.
Phil puts his hand around his cock, working it quickly. "Come on," Clint says, low and rough. "Come on, do it for me, Phil, come for me."
Phil's mouth drops open when he comes, staring down at Clint; Clint's still thrusting into him, fucking him all the way through it, past it, until he groans, pushing up hard and stilling, coming hard and deep inside him.
It's a minute or two before Phil manages to climb off him, laying down beside him; Clint turns towards him, resting his head on Phil's arm, putting a hand on his jaw and guiding him in for a kiss. "I think that was a success," Clint says, when they part.
Phil puts his free hand behind his head. "I don't know why you thought it wouldn't be," he says. "As long as you're lying in wait naked in my bed, you can be sure that you'll get pretty much anything you want."
"I'm going to hold you to that," Clint says, grinning.
"Am I supposed to complain?" Phil asks. "Pretty sure I'm the winner, here."
Clint kisses him again. "Pretty sure nobody loses."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/416664.html.
comments over there.