Doing It Right, Not Over Doing It
Pairing: Phil Coulson and Clint Barton (Avengers)
Note: Until the movie comes out, I can't select both for the pairing because the the only movies that have Coulson listed are Thor and Iron Man and Clint is only in the comics because his freaking 5 second snip in Thor was too short. So I'm leaving it in the comics category.
Reviews are love!
It's amazing the things you learn in the locker room. Tony didn't buy it from the very beginning, the scratch marks down Coulson's back proved him right.
Clint wasn't sick today.
"Yikes, Coulson, sir, those scratches look pretty bad. Did that happen in battle today?" Steve, bless his heart, not the brightest bulb in the bunch.
"Oh, no, I was training with Natasha yesterday, you know, she has those knife-like nails added to her outfit. Can cut through glass." Tony rolled his eyes. He kept his mouth shut and let Steve fall for the lie, wouldn't want to give him a heart attack, God only knows how he would take the news. Once it was just Tony and Phil left in the changing room, he couldn't stay quiet anymore. He turned, and not so much to his surprise, Phil was facing him with his arms crossed, just waiting for Stark to open his mouth. His jaw snapped shut right away. "Don't even think about it."
"Ohcomeon. I know what those are, you didn't get them from the arachnid man eater, you got them from the sweet piece of man ass pretending to be sick at home right now. Fess up."
"I'm not talking about my sex life with…" Phil gave Tony a one over and snarled before picking up his shoulder bag.
"I normally take scratches on the back as a sign to slow down, you must have really fucked him into the bed seeing as how he can't get out of it today." Coulson laughed, it almost seemed as condescending as one of Tony's normal laughs.
"Tony, see, that's the thing. You have sex. Random, unplanned, unattached, crazy, wild, fucks that mean nothing to you. So I don't expect you to understand how making love is nothing like the action you get." Tony rolled his eyes.
"It's all the same. Take penis, insert into hole, fuck until you come, done. That's it. Sex. Making love. Whatever. All the same." Coulson shook his head and turned to walk away.
"I'm not going to waste my time."
"Explain to me how it's different, tell me, how the hell is sex any different than making love?"
"Everything!" Coulson raked his hands through his hair and stepped up to Tony. "Everything is different. When you make love, it's not just about feeling good and finishing as soon as possible so you can move on. No, making love is special, it's intimate, you do everything you can to make it last, you do everything you can to make your partner feel good too. You know their favorite places to be touched, you know how they like to be touched, you know how they like to be kissed, you know what they like you to say, you know if they like certain angles or rhythms or slow or fast or both, you know that they like it when you say their name like they're the only person that matters in your life, you know that they like it with the lights off or on, you know th- there's just- everything, Tony, everything is different. It's not about you, it's about them and if you're both only thinking about what makes the other feel good, it's amazing, you'll never experience anything like it with just sex, sorry. Not possible." Tony's eyebrows were raised in a mix of mild surprise and great amusement. So Coulson was a normal human being after all, who would have guessed?
"Well… I'll just have to take your word for it won't I?" Phil coughed awkwardly and headed for the door.
"And by the way, when they leave scratch marks on your back? That means you're doing everything right. So if they've been scratching your back to get you to back off, I think you need to reconsider how sex works."
;
Coulson knocked four times. He heard a loud groan from the back of the apartment and slow shuffling to the door before it opened. Clint lit up right away and pulled Phil in, closing the door behind them.
"You know those scratches Natasha gave me yesterday when we sparred?" Clint hummed into his hot cocoa. "Tony thinks you gave me those scratches during sex." Clint laughed and set his cup down on the table, pulling his blanket tighter around his body.
"If he thinks I gave you those, he should see the scratches you leave on me. Dear lord, when you scratch, you scratch hard and long and many. I look at them like I look at my battle scars, each has a story and I'm proud of all of them." Phil smiled and nudged Clint with his elbow. Clint sneezed and groaned, grabbing for the tissue box on the coffee table.
"Hey, when was the last time you checked your temperature today?"
"Two-ish." Phil stood and took off to the bathroom before Clint could stop him. "Hey, no, I'm fine. It's gone, I'm just still a little chilly." Phil walked up behind Clint, tilted his head back and slipped the thermometer into his mouth, pecking him on the forehead. His hands slid over Clint's shoulders, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck in a warm hug.
"You know why I scratch like that?"
"Because I do everything right." Clint put all of his confidence into that one sentence.
"Bingo. I got a little carried away when Tony brought up the scratches, he said sex and making love were no different… I might have went on a small rant."
"He's an ass. Don't waste your time on him. He'll never know what making love is like if he keeps up his lifestyle." Phil moaned softly into Clint's neck.
"All this talk about making love is making me consider taking a sick day for myself. If you're not to fatigued that is."
"I'm not going to purposely make you sick."
"You're always nagging me about working too much."
"… Point taken."
BEEP.
"One hundred point six. Right here or in bed?"
"You're so wrong."