Fic: crazy old notion [Avengers]
Title: crazy old notion
Fandom: The Avengers (2012)
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Rating: NC17 [Barebacking, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Felching, Anal Sex]
Summary: This is worth waking up for.
A/N: Last one for the day. Just a little bit of sleepy sex porn. The warnings make it sound a lot kinkier than it is, I swear. Title is from "A Love that will Never Grow Old" by Emmylou Harris.
A/N2: I'm going to go ahead and call shenanigans on myself and say, no, they don't use a condom, and, yes, that's a bad idea. I'm also going to say fuck it because: 1. Monogamous relationship, no pregnancy risk, SHIELD agents are inoculated against everything, etc. 2. Porn.
Phil woke up as Clint slipped softly into bed, blinking through the dark to find his face.
“Whutimesit?”
Well, maybe he wasn’t completely awake.
“Late,” Clint whispered, laying a dry kiss on his brow. “Go back to sleep.”
“Debriefing?” It came out less as a word and more as a jumble of inquisitive syllables, but Clint seemed to understand.
“Cap and shell-head got into it over property damage. Thor had to keep ‘em off each other.” Clint’s skin was cool and soothing, and he smelled of sweat and soap. He’d showered after the mission, then, and put on dirty clothes. His chest was bare, now, and Phil folded into his arms with a yawn.
“Sexual tension,” he mumbled, and Clint laughed, his breath puffing hot on the side of Phil’s face.
“Got some of that, ourselves,” Clint said, sliding his thigh between Phil’s legs. Phil just hummed in agreement and melted into the warm friction. “They kept talking and yelling.” He eased Phil’s shorts down over his hips and used his foot to tug them the rest of the way off. “I just wanted them to shut up so I could go to bed.”
There was probably something Phil could have said, something romantic or clever, but Clint had his balls cupped in one hand, rubbing gently at the soft skin. Answering just didn’t seem all that important.
Clint kissed him, open and wet, and rolled him over onto his back. Phil let his knees fall open, sprawled on the mattress and held down by Clint’s weight. His whole body was a warm pool of pleasure, somewhere in the silver space between waking and dreaming. He could have drowned in it.
Had he been dreaming? He couldn’t sleep until he’d gotten the message saying the mission was done and everyone was whole. He’d meant to stay awake, waiting for Clint, but he’d fallen asleep wanting. Maybe he had dreamed in whatever time had passed, but all that mattered was that he’d woken up to this.
Phil was so lost in the soft haze that he didn’t notice Clint reaching for the lube, and he was surprised by the sudden touch of cold as Clint’s finger breached his asshole. He shivered and sighed, and Clint pressed him into the pillow with a deep kiss.
“Good?” Clint asked, breathless, and Phil answered with a hum, spreading his legs wider.
“Good.”
Clint smiled against his mouth and slid in another finger, pushing and stretching him open, and Phil felt like a single unfurling stream of bliss. He closed his eyes and floated.
Clint took his time, and Phil was lulled by the smooth in and out. When the fingers slipped away, Phil gave a faint keen, and Clint kissed his throat gently as he shifted, the head of his hard cock brushing at Phil’s entrance. He pushed in slowly, a little at a time, and an incomparable fullness welled up inside Phil as their bodies came together.
Clint paused, his breathing deep and heavy, and rested his forehead against Phil’s. “God. That’s perfect.”
Phil cracked his eyes open and drank in the sight of Clint framed above him, strong arms braced on either side, blue eyes shadowed and shining. Lazily, he rolled his hips into Clint’s, pushing them together, needing that sweet pressure deeper inside him.
“More,” he said, and Clint groaned softly.
“Yeah, gimme a second here, boss.” Clint bent down and kissed him, gentle and teasing, his teeth skimming the edges of Phil’s teeth. He slipped one broad hand beneath Phil’s hip and gently levered the leg upward, running his hand slowly up the underside of Phil’s thigh until Clint had him folded nearly in half, his ankle hooked over Clint’s shoulder.
Through the hot fog of sleep-clouded longing, Phil allowed himself a whisper of pride that, pushing forty, he could still manage that, but all thought evaporated as Clint drew slowly back and thrust himself back in. Phil gave a gasp, swallowed up by Clint’s mouth, and wrapped his other leg around Clint’s waist, urging him harder, deeper.
“More,” he moaned, and Clint obliged, driving into him with a slow, pounding rhythm.
Phil was surrounded, wrapped up in nothing but the scent and sensation of Clint all around him, consuming him, burning through to the center of him with a touch and a kiss.
Maybe he had dreamed, maybe he was dreaming still, but nothing in his head could match the reality of this.
“Perfect,” Clint breathed, his voice rough and desperate. “God. Fuck. So perfect.”
Phil reached for his neck, pulling him in, drawing him close, wanting every inch of skin he could reach. “Love you,” he whispered. “So much.”
“Oh. Oh, god. Phil!” Clint cried. He gave two hard, stuttering thrusts, and the shaking as he came rattled through his body and into Phil’s bones. Phil felt the wet heat of it inside him and the dry heat outside as Clint slumped on top of him. He could feel Clint’s pulse pounding through his skin, feel the muscles in his stomach move with his heaving breath, and it was, truly, perfect.
“Fuck.”
“That’s the idea,” Phil murmured. He arched his back as Clint pulled gingerly out of him, savoring the slide of his erection between their bellies.
Clint snorted and lifted his head, giving him a wry look. “I’m sorry. Did you want something?”
Phil yawned. “Oh, you know. When you can.”
Clint grinned and kissed him softly. “You are the most patient....” He pressed a kiss to Phil’s temple. “...generous....” To his jaw. “...amazing person....” To his throat. “...I have ever met.”
Phil sighed, content to languish in Clint’s afterglow and his own longing. “Yes, I am.”
Clint nipped at his shoulder. “Just for that,” he said, “you get to wait.”
Waiting was fine with Phil, so long as Clint’s mouth stayed on his skin, trailing kisses down his body, lips ghosting over the hard line of his cock. When Clint’s tongue stroked across the underside of his balls, hot need stabbed through the haze of Phil’s sleepy pleasure, and he gasped.
“Oh, god, yes.”
Clint lifted his head and looked up at Phil through his lashes. “What was that?”
“Yes,” he repeated. “More.”
Clint huffed something that sounded like, “Needy, needy,” and ducked back down. Instead of returning to his task, he pressed his mouth to the hot skin of Phil’s ass, swiping his tongue through trails of cooling come and lube.
Phil moaned and raised his knees as Clint began to work in earnest, feeling the rough slip of tongue around the stretched out rim of his hole, lapping into him and drawing out the hot mess of Clint’s seed. Clint put his lips to the entrance and sucked hard, and Phil cried out, bucking into his face. Clint just braced his hands on Phil’s hips and held on.
The need in his gut grew as pervasive as his contentment had been, and Clint’s mouth spun him out along a fine edge of desperation, keeping his pleasure sharp and never allowing him to tumble over into bliss.
When Clint drew away, Phil whined. It felt as though his heart was racing circles through his body, one minute throbbing in his stomach and trembling in his throat the next. Without Clint to anchor him, he was sure to spiral away into unreal waking and half-dreamt dreams.
He heard the wet smack as Clint spat onto the floor, and he was torn between horror at the mess and the thrill of knowing that he would look down in the morning and see a sure and inescapable memento of how completely Clint had ruined him.
All thoughts of morning, future, past, and memory vanished, though, as Clint’s mouth closed around his cock.
“Oh my god, Clint. Yes.”
He reached for Clint’s head, his fingers clutching at short hair. There was no need to press or urge, but he had to hold onto something for fear that he would shake himself apart.
There was no waiting, no delaying the rush, and he came hard across Clint’s tongue. He might have screamed, there might have been words, but all he knew in the universe was that Clint was swallowing, the muscles of his throat shifting tight around Phil’s pulsing cock.
The world went away. He was dimly aware of Clint moving, cleaning him gently, but all that registered was the cold when Clint wasn’t touching him and the warmth when Clint climbed back into bed, tugging the sheets up around their shoulders.
He still smelled of sweat and soap, but now it was covered by the sharp bite of sex. The taste of his tongue when they kissed was of his own come and Phil’s and the faint, waxy note of lube.
“Love you,” Clint whispered. “Now, seriously, go back to sleep.”
Phil didn’t need to be told twice.
Fandom: The Avengers (2012)
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Rating: NC17 [Barebacking, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Felching, Anal Sex]
Summary: This is worth waking up for.
A/N: Last one for the day. Just a little bit of sleepy sex porn. The warnings make it sound a lot kinkier than it is, I swear. Title is from "A Love that will Never Grow Old" by Emmylou Harris.
A/N2: I'm going to go ahead and call shenanigans on myself and say, no, they don't use a condom, and, yes, that's a bad idea. I'm also going to say fuck it because: 1. Monogamous relationship, no pregnancy risk, SHIELD agents are inoculated against everything, etc. 2. Porn.
Phil woke up as Clint slipped softly into bed, blinking through the dark to find his face.
“Whutimesit?”
Well, maybe he wasn’t completely awake.
“Late,” Clint whispered, laying a dry kiss on his brow. “Go back to sleep.”
“Debriefing?” It came out less as a word and more as a jumble of inquisitive syllables, but Clint seemed to understand.
“Cap and shell-head got into it over property damage. Thor had to keep ‘em off each other.” Clint’s skin was cool and soothing, and he smelled of sweat and soap. He’d showered after the mission, then, and put on dirty clothes. His chest was bare, now, and Phil folded into his arms with a yawn.
“Sexual tension,” he mumbled, and Clint laughed, his breath puffing hot on the side of Phil’s face.
“Got some of that, ourselves,” Clint said, sliding his thigh between Phil’s legs. Phil just hummed in agreement and melted into the warm friction. “They kept talking and yelling.” He eased Phil’s shorts down over his hips and used his foot to tug them the rest of the way off. “I just wanted them to shut up so I could go to bed.”
There was probably something Phil could have said, something romantic or clever, but Clint had his balls cupped in one hand, rubbing gently at the soft skin. Answering just didn’t seem all that important.
Clint kissed him, open and wet, and rolled him over onto his back. Phil let his knees fall open, sprawled on the mattress and held down by Clint’s weight. His whole body was a warm pool of pleasure, somewhere in the silver space between waking and dreaming. He could have drowned in it.
Had he been dreaming? He couldn’t sleep until he’d gotten the message saying the mission was done and everyone was whole. He’d meant to stay awake, waiting for Clint, but he’d fallen asleep wanting. Maybe he had dreamed in whatever time had passed, but all that mattered was that he’d woken up to this.
Phil was so lost in the soft haze that he didn’t notice Clint reaching for the lube, and he was surprised by the sudden touch of cold as Clint’s finger breached his asshole. He shivered and sighed, and Clint pressed him into the pillow with a deep kiss.
“Good?” Clint asked, breathless, and Phil answered with a hum, spreading his legs wider.
“Good.”
Clint smiled against his mouth and slid in another finger, pushing and stretching him open, and Phil felt like a single unfurling stream of bliss. He closed his eyes and floated.
Clint took his time, and Phil was lulled by the smooth in and out. When the fingers slipped away, Phil gave a faint keen, and Clint kissed his throat gently as he shifted, the head of his hard cock brushing at Phil’s entrance. He pushed in slowly, a little at a time, and an incomparable fullness welled up inside Phil as their bodies came together.
Clint paused, his breathing deep and heavy, and rested his forehead against Phil’s. “God. That’s perfect.”
Phil cracked his eyes open and drank in the sight of Clint framed above him, strong arms braced on either side, blue eyes shadowed and shining. Lazily, he rolled his hips into Clint’s, pushing them together, needing that sweet pressure deeper inside him.
“More,” he said, and Clint groaned softly.
“Yeah, gimme a second here, boss.” Clint bent down and kissed him, gentle and teasing, his teeth skimming the edges of Phil’s teeth. He slipped one broad hand beneath Phil’s hip and gently levered the leg upward, running his hand slowly up the underside of Phil’s thigh until Clint had him folded nearly in half, his ankle hooked over Clint’s shoulder.
Through the hot fog of sleep-clouded longing, Phil allowed himself a whisper of pride that, pushing forty, he could still manage that, but all thought evaporated as Clint drew slowly back and thrust himself back in. Phil gave a gasp, swallowed up by Clint’s mouth, and wrapped his other leg around Clint’s waist, urging him harder, deeper.
“More,” he moaned, and Clint obliged, driving into him with a slow, pounding rhythm.
Phil was surrounded, wrapped up in nothing but the scent and sensation of Clint all around him, consuming him, burning through to the center of him with a touch and a kiss.
Maybe he had dreamed, maybe he was dreaming still, but nothing in his head could match the reality of this.
“Perfect,” Clint breathed, his voice rough and desperate. “God. Fuck. So perfect.”
Phil reached for his neck, pulling him in, drawing him close, wanting every inch of skin he could reach. “Love you,” he whispered. “So much.”
“Oh. Oh, god. Phil!” Clint cried. He gave two hard, stuttering thrusts, and the shaking as he came rattled through his body and into Phil’s bones. Phil felt the wet heat of it inside him and the dry heat outside as Clint slumped on top of him. He could feel Clint’s pulse pounding through his skin, feel the muscles in his stomach move with his heaving breath, and it was, truly, perfect.
“Fuck.”
“That’s the idea,” Phil murmured. He arched his back as Clint pulled gingerly out of him, savoring the slide of his erection between their bellies.
Clint snorted and lifted his head, giving him a wry look. “I’m sorry. Did you want something?”
Phil yawned. “Oh, you know. When you can.”
Clint grinned and kissed him softly. “You are the most patient....” He pressed a kiss to Phil’s temple. “...generous....” To his jaw. “...amazing person....” To his throat. “...I have ever met.”
Phil sighed, content to languish in Clint’s afterglow and his own longing. “Yes, I am.”
Clint nipped at his shoulder. “Just for that,” he said, “you get to wait.”
Waiting was fine with Phil, so long as Clint’s mouth stayed on his skin, trailing kisses down his body, lips ghosting over the hard line of his cock. When Clint’s tongue stroked across the underside of his balls, hot need stabbed through the haze of Phil’s sleepy pleasure, and he gasped.
“Oh, god, yes.”
Clint lifted his head and looked up at Phil through his lashes. “What was that?”
“Yes,” he repeated. “More.”
Clint huffed something that sounded like, “Needy, needy,” and ducked back down. Instead of returning to his task, he pressed his mouth to the hot skin of Phil’s ass, swiping his tongue through trails of cooling come and lube.
Phil moaned and raised his knees as Clint began to work in earnest, feeling the rough slip of tongue around the stretched out rim of his hole, lapping into him and drawing out the hot mess of Clint’s seed. Clint put his lips to the entrance and sucked hard, and Phil cried out, bucking into his face. Clint just braced his hands on Phil’s hips and held on.
The need in his gut grew as pervasive as his contentment had been, and Clint’s mouth spun him out along a fine edge of desperation, keeping his pleasure sharp and never allowing him to tumble over into bliss.
When Clint drew away, Phil whined. It felt as though his heart was racing circles through his body, one minute throbbing in his stomach and trembling in his throat the next. Without Clint to anchor him, he was sure to spiral away into unreal waking and half-dreamt dreams.
He heard the wet smack as Clint spat onto the floor, and he was torn between horror at the mess and the thrill of knowing that he would look down in the morning and see a sure and inescapable memento of how completely Clint had ruined him.
All thoughts of morning, future, past, and memory vanished, though, as Clint’s mouth closed around his cock.
“Oh my god, Clint. Yes.”
He reached for Clint’s head, his fingers clutching at short hair. There was no need to press or urge, but he had to hold onto something for fear that he would shake himself apart.
There was no waiting, no delaying the rush, and he came hard across Clint’s tongue. He might have screamed, there might have been words, but all he knew in the universe was that Clint was swallowing, the muscles of his throat shifting tight around Phil’s pulsing cock.
The world went away. He was dimly aware of Clint moving, cleaning him gently, but all that registered was the cold when Clint wasn’t touching him and the warmth when Clint climbed back into bed, tugging the sheets up around their shoulders.
He still smelled of sweat and soap, but now it was covered by the sharp bite of sex. The taste of his tongue when they kissed was of his own come and Phil’s and the faint, waxy note of lube.
“Love you,” Clint whispered. “Now, seriously, go back to sleep.”
Phil didn’t need to be told twice.