To say Agent Phil Coulson was in a bad mood was an understatement. Problem with that was that he knew why, but he didn't get why. He was pissed because Clint had left work early to go drinking with Tony, which was really nothing new, but it still somehow managed to piss him off this time. So now he found himself sitting on his couch, glaring at the wall at three in the morning.
He tried to tell himself that he was just waiting for a call saying that the two had gotten into trouble. As likely as that was, he knew it wasn't why he was really still up at this godforsaken hour. He was up because he was wondering about what Clint was doing, wondering what type of drunk he was.
Phil imagined that the archer was a lustful, seductive drunk, sliding across the dance floor, if there even was one, with the grace of a panther, lithe body moving like liquid. Phil shuddered at the thought and crossed his legs swiftly as he felt his body grow hotter, switching his thoughts to all the trouble Stark could be getting into instead. Irritation replaced the sudden desire he was feeling, much to his relief.
Barton was very attractive and though he wouldn't say it to anyone else, ever, he wasn't about to deny it to himself because that would do little good. He had often found himself watching the archer, but he never tried to imagine what it would be like to and start start anything between them. He didn't work that way and he highly doubted that Clint even liked him in that sort of way.
Sighing heavily, Phil stood and stretched. There was no point in staying up, especially since he had work to attend to early in the morning. Phil trudged to his room and changed out of his suit, pulling on a pair of loose sleep pants. He was just about to lay down when his doorbell rang, shortly followed by very loud and obnoxious knocking.
Phil groaned and got up to open it when the noise persisted. He had his gun with him, just in case, but when he opened the door he suddenly found his arms full of a very drunk Hawkeye. He stuck his head out the door just in time to see Stark wink at him then stagger off.
He was beyond confused, but he pulled Clint against his body anyway so that he could better support the blond and shut the door, locking it again. The younger man was mumbling something into his throat, but it was too slurred and muffled for him to understand and he had to repress a shiver from the way the warm breath ghosted against his skin.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, as he helped Clint onto the couch, sitting on it beside him.
Clint rested his head on Phil's shoulder and looked up at him through his thick eyelashes, the smell of tequila and whiskey heavy on him. " 's Tony's idea," he slurred then nuzzled Phil's neck. " 'n I waned ta see ya."
Closing his eye tightly and sighing Phil struggled to keep control of himself and the southward flow of his blood due to the implications of the drunks words. He pushed the blond away then, ignoring the confused look he got in return. "Barton, you're drunk. You should be at home right now, not here," he tried to sound like his normal professional self, but it really didn't come out that way.
Clint frowned at him then. " 'm not drunk. Just... tipsy, 'n I dun wanna go home, Phil," he moved back as he said the last part, much closer than he had been before, breath ghosting over Coulson's lips.
Phil swallowed dryly and tried to back up in vain, already as far back on the couch as he could go.
"Clint," he began, unconsciously using the mans first name. "I really-mmm"
Clint slammed his lips against Phil's, climbing onto his lap. Phil pushed him away immediately and the look of confusion resurfaced on Clint's face along with one of heartbroken rejection.
"Let me finish what I was saying" he scrambled, hating the way that look made his insides twist. "As much as I would love for this to happen," Clint perked at that, "You are drunk and I don't want to do something you will regret later on," and Phil was almost certain the blond would regret this in the morning, if he even remembered it.
"Phil," Clint's now suspiciously, mostly sober voice was a purr, "The only thing I would regret is losing my chance with you. That's why I'm here."
He kissed Phil again, much slower this time. Phil responded hesitantly, but when Clint pressed their hips together with a groan any uncertainty he'd had was forgotten. The kiss got deeper and their tongues danced, exploring each others mouths as the younger man wrapped his arms around Phil's neck and Phil's hand moved from Clint's hip to his ass.
The archer moaned softly, breaking the kiss and Phil moved down, attacking the exposed skin of his throat. He keened loudly and managed to pull away, taking his shirt off hastily, throwing it to the floor.
Phil just stared at him for a moment then tightened his grip on the blonds ass and stood. Clint made a squawking sound and wrapped his arms and legs around the older man, hanging on for dear life.
"Where are we goin'?" he asked, licking a line up the other man's neck.
Phil shuddered and groaned, speeding up his pace. "I'm not going to have our first time be on a couch," he said as he shut his bedroom door behind them.
Clint looked truly shocked by that for a few moments, but then he smiled with sincere happiness to it. Unable to better express how much that simple sentence meant to him so he kissed Phil passionately, hoping that would do the trick.
Phil smiled against his lips and laid him down on the bed gently. He climbed over the writhing archer, sliding his hands over the warm skin, simply enjoying the feel of it against his own. Clint shivered underneath him, turning his head to the side, to fill his lungs as he arched into the older mans gentle touch.
He gripped the sheets tight, his breath coming out in soft pants as Phil kissed down his chest, lavishing his skin. He felt like a God being worshiped from the way his lover moved over his body, touches slow and tender. He'd never even thought to hope for this much form the man.
Clint had just planned to act as drunk as possible, have a night of forbidden pleasure and move on. He had never even thought it possible that Phil could, in any way, return his feelings. Apparently he'd been wrong and he couldn't be any happier about that.
Phil smiled against Clint's hipbone when he felt him relax completely. One of Clint's hands coming to rest lightly on his shoulder while the other one moved up, the back of it pressed against his mouth.
He sat up then, chuckling at Clint's whine of protest, and moved his hand to dig in the bedside drawer for the bottle of lube he knew was in there somewhere. Phil pulled it out quickly, making a triumphant sound in the back of his throat. Next he reached out and stripped the younger man of his pants and boxers, spreading his legs wide, wider than most people can go. He would have to admire Clint's flexibility later though because if he didn't get started soon he had a feeling he wouldn't be the only one losing their mind.
Clint watched through his lashes, heart pounding in his chest as Phil carefully slicked his fingers before moving them into place. The first one pressed into him slowly and he bit his lip, groaning slightly and wishing the man would go faster. He didn't though, he just continued to slowly stretch Clint as an almost leisurely pace. By the time the second finger entered him Clint felt like he was going to exploded with desperation.
As he began to scissor his two fingers currently inside Clint, Phil leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to his neck. The blond mewled beneath him and arched up into the brush of his lips. Phil continued the kisses as he slipped in his third finger, enjoying the small shiver Clint gave. He was working much faster, still careful but not as agonizingly slow as he had been going before.
"God, Phil, hurry up. I'm ready, please, please just fuck me now," Clint pleaded, turning his head so that he was looking at Phil
The agent nodded and leaned in to kiss him as he pulled his fingers out. The kiss was tender and loving, only hinting at the desperate passion they were both feeling. They continued to kiss, downing in one another while Phil gripped himself and slicked his length up before he began pressing into the tight heat that was Clint.
The blonds blue eyes flew wide and he pulled away from the kiss, arching of the bed slightly. He moaned low in his throat and wrapped his legs around Phil's waist when the older man bottomed out inside of him. The pressure from Clint's heels pressing into his back was one of the few things that kept Phil from beginning to thrust right away.
Instead he waited for Clint's breathing to even out before he started moving. He began with slow shallow thrust, picking up the pace as Clint grew more and more desperate beneath him. The archer moaned and writhed, bucking his hips up to meet Phil's, anything to make him go faster. When his pace finally quickened, so that his hips were slamming into Clint's faster and harder each time, he was pulled down by his shoulders into a grateful, sloppy kiss that was more Clint moaning into his mouth than anything.
Considering the slight foreplay and the sheer amount of sexual tension that had spawned between them, it wasn't much of a surprise that Clint didn't last that long. He came with a long, drawn out moan that resembled Phil's name and Phil came minutes later, muffling his own groan of pleasure by biting into the tender flesh of Clint's neck. Once they came down from their high Phil pulled away, making Clint shiver, and got up from the bed. The exhausted blond whined in protest at first, but smiled when he returned with a damp wash cloth. Tenderly, he cleaned the archer of then tossed the cloth aside and joined him in bed once more.
They in silence, simply enjoying each others presence before Phil finally spoke up." You we're never drunk, were you?"
Clint smiled up at him from where his head was resting on his chest. "Nah, just tipsy."