Work Text:
Clint is nervous for days after what Phil can’t help but think as The Incident, and Phil makes a special effort to be physically affectionate with him, to let him know without words that he is wanted, even if Phil doesn’t feel right about giving in to the desire yet. Clint retreats to his own bedroom for the first two days but comes back to share Phil’s bed the next night, curled up under the covers ahead of Phil and looking nervous. Phil smiles at him from the doorway.
“You’re always welcome here unless I say otherwise, sweetheart.”
Clint blushes at the endearment, and smiles. “Okay.” He cuddles down into the pillows again as Phil rattles around brushing his teeth and hanging up his clothes, and then shifts over to give Phil the warm spot when he finally gets in.
“Such a good boy,” Phil murmurs, kissing his cheek and arranging them so Clint’s head is resting on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil has both hands free for his book. He has been done with Lady Oracle for a while, and has been re-reading The Hobbit for what feels like the fortieth time, mostly for the joy of reading it aloud to Clint. He adjusts the beside lamp just a little, its golden glow the only light in the room, and picks up where they left off on the couch last night. He gets most of the way through the Company’s escape from Mirkwood, Clint periodically interrupting to reiterate what a dick the king of the elves is, and that if Thorin isn’t a closeted, self-hating sub, Clint will eat his bow. Phil laughs at that, and points out that Tolkien wrote essentially nothing about sex, save to ensure that the elves couldn’t have that much of it.
“Joyless bastard,” Clint opines, and Phil laughs.
“Maybe a little.” He yawns and marks their place, setting the book aside.
“And here I was expecting you to disagree about that,” Clint says, his tone teasing.
Phil chuckles, and hugs Clint, kissing the top of his head. “You have to have some idea of how much I actually want to have sex with you, Clint.”
Clint blushes, looking away. “Maybe.” It’s the closest to coy he has ever been, and it makes Phil smile. It fades slowly as he remembers the aftermath of that first time, though.
“I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings, Clint—”
“Oh Christ, here we go…”
“But you have to,” Phil says, gently overriding his interruption. “I still don’t know exactly what upset you so much, and if I don’t know that, I can’t keep it from happening again.” He sighs. “And as long as that’s the case, I’m going to cut you off at necking and blue-ball us both.”
“Well, clearly I’ve gotta save you from yourself.”
“It would be nice of you, yes.” Phil kisses the corner of Clint’s eye, cuddling him. “Seriously, darling. Have you been thinking about it?”
“Yeah,” Clint murmurs, pressing closer. Phil can feel him tensing up, and starts rubbing his back. “I… Well, I’m sure you figured out that I got scared, right?”
“I had put it down as the most likely possibility, yes. But I have no idea which part scared you.”
“All of it.” Clint laughs, the sound a little cracked. He presses even closer. “I… I did it because I wanted some control, you know? I mean, also because I l-like you, and I’ve thought you were hot since the first time I saw you, but I wanted to use what I know to make you feel good. It was supposed to be all about you and nothing for me, just you shaking and losing your shit, and me interested, but cooler, you know?”
Phil nods, petting him. “I understand what you’re talking about, Clint.”
“I mean, I’m sorry for trying to top or whatever.”
“Submission is about voluntarily ceding control, Clint. You haven’t had nearly the amount of chances you deserve to do that.” It comes out a little fiercer than he wants it to, and he nuzzles his face into Clint’s bristly hair.
Clint whimpers, wrapping a leg over Phil’s hips. “Good to know you care, boss,” he says, too quiet and shaky to be flippant. “But yeah. I… first it was scary because of how much I liked the way you looked at me, all shocked and horny and ruffled. And then I actually got onto you and it was so fucking good.” He shivers, tightening his grip. “It was supposed to be me doing something for you, but I loved it so much, sir. I loved the taste and the way you felt and how you’re just the right size for me to deepthroat, and I just kinda floated for most of it and I thought I was gonna come. And that was so goddamn scary, because I couldn’t really trust you yet.”
Phil takes a deep breath, knowing that the shaky quality is obvious. “Jesus, Clint…”
“But I do trust you now,” Clint whispers, rubbing against Phil a little, hard at the memory. Phil isn’t any better off, and takes another deep breath, this one no steadier than the first. “Color, sir?” He breathes, sliding one hand down Phil’s belly to linger at the waistband of his boxers.
Phil shudders, tipping his head back and biting his lip. “Green. Green, if you’re sure you’re not afraid.”
“Not anymore,” Clint says softly, and kisses Phil’s throat, shifting to be on top of him.
“I’m too tired to get very involved, Clint.”
“That’s cool, we can take our time,” Clint says, sucking lightly at the underside of Phil’s jaw. “Anything you want, master.” He freezes the second the word crosses his lips, and Phil hopes it’s just embarrassment. Calling doms ‘master’ or ‘mistress’ is so outdated and indicative of such a complete degree of submission that it’s almost taboo these days, and a guy like Clint might well be embarrassed to do it.
“It’s okay, Clint,” Phil tells him, nibbling his ear and making him whine. “Nothing to be ashamed of.” Clint just hides his face in Phil’s neck, going limp and passive, making it incredibly easy for Phil to roll them over, pinning Clint’s hands up beside his head. Clint’s eyes fly open wide, and he makes a helpless little sound that Phil will remember for the rest of his life.
“Please, master,” Clint whines, “please, don’t let me go.” He pushes against Phil’s grip a little even as he says it, and Phil groans and holds him down. Clint could probably actually throw Phil off if he put his mind to it, but of course he doesn’t.
“I won’t let you go,” He promises, and kisses Clint roughly, hungry and greedy in way he hasn’t dared to be yet. Clint moans and rocks up against him, the front of the pajama bottoms he has been wearing in accordance with Phil’s scruples wet with precome. Phil always keeps a promise made to his sub, and moves Clint’s wrists so he can hang on to both with one hand, the other stripping first Clint and then himself. Clint watches with wide eyes, flushed all over. Phil smiles, and moves back into position, nuzzling the tip of Clint’s nose. “I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart.” Clint makes a little sobbing noise and nods, moaning when Phil kisses him again. The sound gets deeper as Phil rocks his hips, grinding slowly along Clint. He can’t let Clint go to find his lube, but they’re slick enough for this, and the slight roughness on some of the strokes only makes it better. Clint babbles and begs and struggles but never actually tries to get away, moaning desperately and wrapping his legs around Phil’s hips, pulling him in to buck and grind against him. Clint’s eyes are wide and lost, but in a good way. Not frightened, trusting Phil to guide him through and out of this. Phil shudders and kisses him again, grinding harder against him. Right now Phil is barely feeling his own sensations, so focused on making it good for Clint, on rocking his sweet boy and breathing with him. He watches Clint’s face like it holds all the answers in the universe because right now it does. At least all the answers Phil cares about.
Clint opens his glassy eyes to look up at Phil, pupils blown. “Please, master,” he whimpers, breathless. “Please kiss me.”
Phil moans and dips his head to devour Clint’s mouth, rocking hard against him. Clint pants through his nose and struggles again in the same useless way, with none of Hawkeye’s skill, and then lets out a muffled keen as he comes, bucking helplessly against Phil for a perfect little eternity before breaking the kiss to gasp for air as he shudders to a stop. Phil kisses him again and nuzzles his neck before sitting up. He’s still holding on to Clint’s wrists, and he kisses the pulse point on each one as Clint watches him.
“S-sir?”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t come.”
“Not yet, I haven’t.” He kisses each of Clint’s palms in turn, feeling like he has all the time in the world despite the arousal climbing all over his nerves. “I need to make sure my sweet boy is all right.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Please, sir...” He squirms, and Phil chuckles, leaning down to kiss him on the mouth again.
“If you’re sure of that, I’m going to let go of your wrists now.” He’s careful not to say ‘let go of you,’ because it means too much that he doesn’t want it to mean, and waits for Clint to nod before releasing him. Clint shudders and flings his arms around Phil, hiding his face in Phil’s chest and pulling him down, clinging tightly. Phil cranes his neck to kiss the top of Clint’s head, and then lines up along one firm thigh and starts to rock again. He starts with long, firm strokes, each one making him groan softly as his slick cock slides along Clint’s smooth skin and sinuous muscle, but he can’t keep up this slow place for a long, and soon he’s pressing Clint into the mattress with hard, quick thrusts. Clint whines and digs his nails into Phil’s back, babbling soft non-words and then moaning as Phil cries out and comes all over him.
It takes a long time for Phil to gather himself enough to actually get up and get a wet cloth to clean them both with. He kisses Clint’s forehead before disentangling himself, and Clint makes a complaining noise but doesn’t actually try to stop him. “I’ll be quick,” Phil murmurs, and he is, back within a minute to wipe them both down. Clint shivers and lies there, letting Phil do whatever he wants with him. Phil kisses him softly before putting everything away and turning out the lights, curling around Clint at last. “All right, dearest?” He asks, very quietly.
“Yes, sir,” Clint murmurs, nuzzling Phil’s shoulder. He dozes off a few minutes later, and Phil smiles in the dark, listening to Clint’s soft and easy breathing.