Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Phil Coulson had a wide range of life experience, a satisfying career, a richly happy personal life, and a reputation for unflappability that had served him well in his years at SHIELD.

He had also been working for nearly six weeks without a day off, hadn’t seen either of his lovers in person in three, and hadn’t seen the both of them together in longer than that.

It was making him a little cranky.

Said lovers had finally finished the last stage of a grueling undercover op and then nearly five hours of debriefs and medical checks, and had been placed on their mandated seventy-two hour downtime and allowed to go home. Meanwhile, Phil was still stuck in the operations center, listening to Agent Atkinson perform the world’s longest-lasting and least helpful AAR.

Phil Coulson was in a loving relationship with two of the most amazing humans he’d ever had the privilege to meet, and they were on their way home without him.

To be honest, he was rapidly approaching the end of his patience.

While Atkinson repeated a point that had been made more effectively by the speaker before him, Phil’s phone buzzed twice in quick succession.

Phil forced himself to hold his expression rather than letting it melt into the fond smile that was trying to sneak onto his face, tucked his phone away, and cleared his throat. Atkinson stumbled to a halt in the middle of the third repetition of the same information using slightly different words.

“Yes, thank you, Agent, for that analysis,” he said. “I’m sure your report will be edifying. Agent Rossi?”

“Sir?”

“I trust you can handle the rest of the wrap-up. Everyone, finish off the immediate necessities and then head home; the rest can wait until you’ve had food that didn’t come out of a vending machine and at least eight hours’ sleep. Delta support team, you’re on 72-hour downtime as soon as your reports are submitted.”

A happy, relieved murmur rippled through the room, and Phil—whose own paperwork had been completed and filed over an hour previously—put himself on post-mission downtime status and added a DND flag; he wouldn’t be contacted short of a true emergency. Then he pulled out his phone to reply to his texts.

Phil Coulson was a very lucky man, and was about to get luckier still.

It was barely gone suppertime when Phil let himself into their apartment, but it felt much later, the consequence of jet lag and long hours in the command center, his focus split between dozens of image feeds and comms channels as he coordinated the last stage of the op. It had been a success, in the end, but still uniquely exhausting, mentally grueling without any physical release. The quiet, solid click of the door closing behind him made Phil’s shoulders drop in relief; it was good to be home at last. He hung up his overcoat and took off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair. It would be fine there for a while.

Phil could smell chili and cornbread in the air and hear Clint singing softly. His mouth watered and his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t had any proper food in much longer than he cared to remember. He rolled up his sleeves as he walked toward the kitchen and paused just outside it, already feeling himself relaxing.

Clint was wearing a pair of Phil’s sweatpants, worn soft and drooping low on his hipbones, and had an apron slung over his tank top. He was dancing around the kitchen on bare feet, occasionally pausing to toss a bit of cheese or cut-up vegetable into Natasha’s open mouth.

Natasha was perched on the counter, swinging her legs and watching Clint with amused affection. Wearing one of Clint’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, with her face washed and her hair in a ponytail, she looked younger than her age, like a college student taking a study break. It was a far cry from the way she’d been when they’d first brought her in, worn whipcord-thin and wary, her big green eyes always flicking around the room, looking for exits, weapons, threats.

They were beautiful. He would never stop feeling awed at his own fortune, that they’d decided to make Phil their own, and to make themselves his.

“This is the best thing I’ve seen in days,” Phil said softly.

They’d both known he was there—skills like theirs didn’t vanish just because you were on downtime—but they turned to him with welcoming smiles as though his presence was a delightful surprise.

“You’re just in time, Phil,” Natasha told him. “We decided Clint needed to focus his energy in a more productive direction.”

“As always, your tactics are faultless,” Phil said, moving into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter next to Natasha, putting his arm behind her but not embracing her until she leaned into his side, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Her hair was faintly damp and smelled like Phil’s shampoo.

Phil held out his free arm, and Clint came over immediately, plastering the length of his body against Phil’s and making a soft, contented noise when Phil pulled him in closer. Phil could feel the tension in his muscles, a quiver of nervous energy; Clint got like that sometimes, had trouble releasing himself from mission-readiness. Phil kissed his temple.

“I heard you were feeling a little restless,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Ugh,” Clint said. “No, I’m fine, it’s just, like, mission hangover. I hate using that cover, he’s a jackass.”

“And mine was a simpering idiot,” Natasha added. Phil could feel her arm reaching behind him to pat Clint’s shoulder. “Tedious, spending so long in those roles.”

“I don’t want to talk about UFC or football for at least three weeks,” Clint continued. “I don’t want to discuss creatine or protein shakes or lifting.”

“We can do that,” Phil said easily. “Is there something you do want, though?”

Clint was silent for a moment, burying his head into the curve of Phil’s shoulder. If Phil craned his neck a little, he could see that the tip of his ear had gone red.

“I, um,” Clint said into Phil’s shirt. “I kind of just want… don’t laugh, I know it’s dumb.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not dumb,” Phil said, kissing him again. “And you know we’ll never laugh at what you need from us.”

“Never,” Natasha said, reaching out with her free hand to interlace her fingers with Clint’s.

“It’s just, I had to play tough guy the whole time,” Clint said. “I’m sick of it. I want to be… sweet, I guess. Soft. Not have to worry about anything but making you both happy for a while.”

Phil tightened his arm around Clint’s body. “You already make us happy,” he said. “But I for one would have no problem letting you devote yourself to my pleasure this weekend.”

“Mm,” Natasha agreed. “I spent the mission giggling and agreeing with everything Rothmann said. I would very much welcome the opportunity to be, shall we say, catered to.”

“You guys are the best,” Clint sighed. Phil could feel Clint’s cock plumping up a little behind the worn cotton of his pants.

“We should eat first, though,” Phil said. “We’ll need the fuel.”

Natasha laughed, and leaned in to nip Phil’s earlobe. “Oh, someone’s in a mood,” she teased.

“Lucky us,” Clint said.

“At least you two got to hit someone by the end of it,” Phil said. “I was stuck in the command center the whole time, and Atkinson doesn’t think he’s made his point until he’s repeated himself at least twice.”

“Then it sounds like we’ll all get to work out our frustrations,” Natasha said, smiling slowly. “I approve.”

A timer pinged, and Clint straightened up reluctantly. “That’s the bread done,” he said. “Ready to eat?”

“More than,” Phil told him. “It smells phenomenal.”

Clint ducked his head, smiling shyly. He was already starting to drift into his headspace a little, Phil thought, his movements getting smoother, his expressions more open. He loved praise, when he was like this, but he had to feel like he’d earned it. As Clint sliced cornbread and set out condiments to doctor the chili with, Natasha shot Phil a significant look.

“I see it,” Phil murmured. “We’ll take good care of him.”

“We will.” She nodded solemnly, then grinned at him; he wanted to kiss the dimples in her cheeks. “Honestly, I can’t say it isn’t going to be an absolute pleasure.”

He eyed Clint’s ass, flexing beneath his pants as he moved around the kitchen. “Truer words were never spoken.”

“All right, you two, soup’s on,” Clint said, and Natasha graciously allowed Phil to help her off the counter; mostly, he thought, so she could make sure her body brushed against his all the way down, setting his skin tingling with anticipation.

This weekend was going to be amazing.

Chapter Text

They didn't rush through the meal; they didn’t get to do any of this as often as they’d like, and the chance to eat together was just as precious as the chance to spend a weekend in bed. The food was rich and hearty, satisfying both weary bodies and anxious spirits, and Phil and Natasha both heaped enough praise on the cook that Clint was flushed and shy by the time they were finished, his eyes bright with pleasure. When they stood up from the table, he was obviously half-hard; he must need it very badly, Phil thought, to be so affected by such a simple thing.

“We’re going to want to use you for a long time tonight, Clint,” Natasha said, dropping her voice to a throaty purr. “Is that what you would like?”

He shivered. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, please.”

“We would love to give you that,” Phil told him. He stepped forward and curled his hand around the back of Clint’s neck. “Why don’t you go get yourself ready for us?” he said into Clint’s ear. “We’ll take care of things out here.”

Clint looked up at him, his face open and vulnerable, and Phil had to lean in to taste his softly parted lips.

“Go on,” he said. “We’ll be with you soon.”

Clint jerked a nod, then headed down the hall.

Phil and Natasha took care of the dishes. They didn’t linger too long—they were both eager to move to the next part of the evening—but they weren’t in too much of a hurry to enjoy the quiet domesticity of it. There was a sweet, safe pleasure to standing side-by-side at the sink, bodies brushing as they passed dishes back and forth. Natasha’s bright hair was the perfect height for Phil to nuzzle, enjoying the silky feel of it, the fruity scent of the shampoo she only used when she knew she’d be home for a while. They talked quietly as they worked, brainstorming a few ideas about the general shape of the night, but they’d done this often enough to be confident in their ability to improvise within the established framework of their relationship.

When the dishes were done and the leftovers put away, ready for them whenever hunger next drove them out of bed, they went down the hall to Phil’s room. They each had their own space in the apartment; they slept in all three rooms in various combinations as needs, scheduling, and libido dictated. For nights like this one, they nearly always used Phil’s bed, which was large and sturdy, with tall bedposts and usefully-spaced steel rings welded to the frame.

Phil was a great believer in having the right equipment for one’s pursuits.

The lights in the bedroom were warm and soft, bright enough to see what you were doing but not glaring enough to kill the mood. Clint was naked, sitting cross-legged on his big purple cushion. He liked to be on the floor when he felt this way, but kneeling hurt him if he did it too long; he’d broken his patella on a mission once and it still ached when the weather turned.

“There you are.” Phil smiled at him. “What a beautiful sight.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clint said, his voice small. It was one of their few standing rules; when they played like this, nobody was allowed to answer a compliment with anything other than silence or thanks. They all sometimes had issues with praise, one way or another, but they’d agreed that this wasn’t the space for self-deprecation or doubt.

“Look, Phil,” Natasha said, crossing to the bed. She ran her fingers through Clint’s hair as she looked at the assortment of tools and toys he’d laid out on a towel for them. They might use some or all or none of them that night, but they knew that Clint would enjoy whatever they picked. “Clint’s given us a lovely set of options to choose from.”

“Of course he has,” Phil said, letting his voice warm with anticipation and happiness. “Nobody knows how to please us like he does.”

Clint sighed a little from his cushion, his serene face belying the eagerness of his cock, lying fat and red against his thigh. Phil went over to stand on his other side, letting his hand join Natasha’s in scratching Clint’s scalp and playing with his hair while he looked at the toys.

What Clint picked for a play session revealed a lot about his mood. Sometimes he wanted sensation, sometimes immobilization, sometimes to be fucked and sometimes to be ridden; there were no bad options, honestly, just a question of what he needed. Given Clint’s mood at dinner, Phil wasn’t surprised to see an assortment of plugs and dildos, Natasha’s favorite harness, the least intense set of nipple clamps, Clint’s purple leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and the matching cock ring.

His fingers tightened involuntarily in Clint’s hair, and Clint let out a happy little moan at the tug.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Phil said, his cock filling a little more. “The things we’re going to do to you tonight.”

Natasha giggled, low and sweet. “Look at him, Clint,” she said. “Look at his face. He can’t wait to take what you’re offering.”

Clint tipped his head back into their hands, looking up with eyes blown dark with desire. “’S all for you and Nat, sir,” he said. “Anything you want.”

Phil smiled at him. “A gift beyond price.” He looked over at Natasha, the anticipation making him want to laugh in sheer delight. He loved everything they did together, but there was a special joy in working with her to make Clint desperate with lust. They were great together in the field; they were amazing together in the bedroom.

“Clothes on or off, to start with?”

“Hmm,” she said. “Off, I think. I won’t want to stop once I get going.”

“Good point.”

“You should help me get undressed,” Natasha told him. “Clint, pay attention.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint breathed. He had something of a voyeuristic streak, sometimes, especially when he knew that he wouldn’t be left out in the cold. It made sense; his vision was one of his greatest strengths, after all. Phil wondered sometimes how things looked through those keen eyes.

They moved a little away from Clint to give him a good view, and Phil laid a hand tenderly on Natasha’s cheek, smoothing the line of her cheekbone with his thumb.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told her. She started to roll her eyes, then caught herself.

“Thank you, Phil,” she said, a wry twist to her mouth that Phil just had to kiss. He slid his hand back to cup her head, pulling her gently toward him and kissing her tenderly. She sighed, letting her body relax against his, and he devoted his attention to her mouth. He didn’t push too hard or go too deep—time enough for that later, when they were wound up and desperate—just let himself experience the flex and press of her lush mouth, the silky brush of her ponytail over the back of his hand, the soft warm weight of her body against his. When they finally drew apart, her lips were rosy and wet, her eyes heavy-lidded like a cat’s. Phil felt like there was a current connecting his lips to his cock, lighting him up.

“That’s lovely,” she told him, that teasing little grin flirting at the corner of her mouth, “but it’s not getting us any more naked.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgement and reached for the hem of her sweatshirt. She raised her arms so he could pull it off over her head. She wasn't wearing anything fancy underneath, just a gray cotton sports bra, chosen for comfort over aesthetics. To Phil, it was more compelling than any number of lace nothings, beautiful though they were. This was Natasha without artifice, casual and entirely herself; this was Natasha giving them the gift of her trust. He reached behind her to unfasten the bra, unhooking it in one smooth motion and drawing it off her arms, and smiled a bit. Somewhere in the distant past, he imagined his teenage self giving him a thumbs-up. Natasha raised her eyebrows at him, looking amused.

“You look awfully pleased with yourself.”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He waved his hand between her naked torso and Clint, watching them enraptured from his cushion. “Look at you both. I've obviously been given blessings far beyond what I deserve.’’

“Rules, Phil,” Clint said, his voice raspy.

Phil huffed. “I'm not being self-deprecating,” he said. “Some things are too amazing for anyone to deserve.”

“We are pretty awesome,” Clint said, and Natasha grinned. “But seriously, Phil. You deserve whatever you want. You deserve everything.”

“And we’ll give him everything he deserves,” Natasha said. “As soon as he finishes his task."

Grinning, Phil put his hands on her hips, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings. “Your wish is my command.” He peeled them down, taking her panties with them. Kneeling to help her step out of her clothes, he was eye-level with the neat thatch of copper hair at the juncture of her thighs.

“Speaking of beautiful sights,” he said.

Clint made a high, needy sound, and they both looked over at him. He was sitting on his hands, his hairline starting to glisten with sweat, his cock full and straining.

“Is there something you would like to see, Clint?” Natasha asked.

“I’d love to watch Phil eat you out a little,” he said, perking up.

Natasha raised an enquiring eyebrow at Phil, and he flexed his hands, which suddenly ached to be full of the curves of her body.

“It would be an honor and a pleasure.” He got up, drumming his fingers absently on his thigh as he considered logistics. He wanted Natasha to be comfortable, and Clint to have a good view.

“Stand up, please,” he told Clint, grabbing the cock ring from the bed. Clint obeyed, his movements fluid and graceful if you ignored the slightly comical way his erection bounced. Phil leaned in to kiss him, teasing and sweet, enjoying the way Clint melted into the touch.

“Why aren’t you naked,” Clint said, when they pulled apart to breathe. His hands plucked at Phil’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin.”

“In a minute,” Phil promised. “I want to get you situated first.” He lifted Clint’s cock and balls and fastened the ring around them, making Clint sigh and go another degree more relaxed despite his aroused state. Phil picked up the backrest pillow he used sometimes to read or work in bed and settled it against the headboard.

“Sit there, please,” he told Clint. “Legs apart.”

While Clint moved to obey, Phil stripped off his own clothes with little ceremony. It felt good, removing the last vestiges of his work persona, moving naked into his most private space with his most loved people.

“How do you feel about letting Clint hold your legs, during?” he asked Natasha.

“I like the way you think,” she said with a bright smile.

“Natasha will lean against you,” he told Clint, as Natasha climbed onto the bed and settled herself between Clint’s spread thighs with an unnecessary wiggle of her ass that made Clint groan as she rubbed against his cock. “Don’t come.”

“I won’t, I promise.” In that position, Natasha’s head rested comfortably on Clint’s shoulder, leaving him with an unobstructed view down her body. “Can I touch?”

“You may kiss anything you can reach with your mouth,” Natasha said. “Phil’s got other plans for your hands.”

“I want you to hold her open for me,” Phil said, picking up the rest of the toys and setting them on the bedside table for later. “Do the work for her, so she can just relax and enjoy it.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint said, eyes gleaming. “Now?”

Phil nodded, and Clint ran his hands down Natasha’s body, wrapping his hands just above her knees and drawing her legs up and apart, draping them over his splayed thighs and holding them open. The posture tipped her back more heavily against his chest, tilting her pussy up. With her legs wide, the lips were just parted, a hint of shine on the revealed pink skin revealing her growing excitement.

“Beautiful,” Phil told them, meaning all of it, the whole picture. He crawled across the bed to settle in between their legs, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning close to breathe in the musky scent of Natasha’s arousal. His exhale stirred her hair, and she twitched.

“Some time this week, Coulson,” she said.

He didn’t bother with a reply, just traced the length of her slit with a wet tongue, and she let out a long, throaty sigh. Later on, she’d want more stimulation, want to be worked hard and fast, but at this point in the proceedings she liked to be coaxed, to start with tiny delicate touches and build.

He stroked her inner thighs as he worked, not moving deeper until he felt her muscles clench, felt her arching against Clint’s hold a little to push closer to Phil’s tongue. He used his thumbs to press her labia open, dipping to taste the slick gathering at her entrance before moving up to her clit with soft, wide licks. When he sealed his lips around it and sucked, she gasped, body going tight in the way that Phil knew meant she was getting close. He looked up through his eyelashes, wanting to see; Natasha had thrown her head back against Clint’s shoulder, pinching her own nipples with both hands as she arched against Clint’s hold. Clint, for his part, was staring down at Phil, eyes blown dark, lips shining and wet; Phil wondered if he’d been licking them, or if Natasha had.

He hummed inquiringly against her clit, and she cursed, bucking into him again.

“Give me your fingers, Coulson, goddammit,” she said, her words broken by harsh breathing.

“Yes, please,” Clint added. Every time Natasha arched her hips, he let out a sharp little grunt of arousal as she ground against him; the ring helped him keep from coming, but it must be an excruciating tease.

Excellent.

While Phil continued to pay attention to Natasha’s clit, he swirled his finger through her slick, tracing the rim of her hole. He let his finger get wet and slippery before he started entering her with it in tiny thrusts, going only a little further in each time. She groaned.

“You’re such a fucking cocktease.” She was flushed all the way down to her chest, rising and falling with her quick breath. Little curls of red hair were starting to come loose from her ponytail.

“Give her more, sir,” Clint said. “She wants it, can’t you feel her?” From the corner of his eye, Phil could see Clint’s hands tighten on Natasha’s legs. “Give her what she wants.”

Phil pulled his hand back and slicked a second finger, then slid them both inside her, slowly but steadily, until his hand came to rest against her body. Natasha sucked in a breath through her teeth, clenching down around his fingers. He’d been avoiding making her come, preferring a long build, but it was time. He took a last look up at them, reveling in the sweat-damp wisps of curl clinging to Natasha’s face, in the hunger and awe in Clint’s eyes, and then started finger-fucking her in earnest, curling his fingers in long firm strokes along her walls as he went back to her clit with his mouth, working it steadily in the way he knew she loved.

Her thighs were tense and trembling next to his ears, and he barely stopped himself from humping the bed; she could choke a man out with those thighs, and something low in his belly clenched with lust to be between them, subdued not in combat but by his own will to please her. When she came, it was nearly silent, her muscles going tight as she let out a half-voiced gasp. Phil stroked her through it, gentling fingers and tongue but giving her something to push into, letting her grind against his face until she finally subsided, slumping back against Clint with a sweet sigh. Phil stayed still, but didn’t move until she finally pushed his head back.

“Yes, good, enough,” she said, stretching luxuriously, the roll of her body against Clint’s drawing a strangled groan from Clint’s chest. “Mmm.” She tapped Clint’s arm, and he let go, letting her relax her legs. “Hold that thought,” she told Phil, and then dismounted Clint like a horse, swinging her leg over and rolling onto her side next to them. Clint looked desperate and amazing, glistening with sweat and panting; his cock was deep red on his belly, the tip wet. He was so hard Phil could see his pulse.

“Was that everything you hoped for, Clint?” Natasha asked. She was flushed and languid, her eyes bright, and Phil couldn’t help but feel a little puffed up with pride in making her look that way.

“Fuck, yeah,” Clint said. “That was amazing. Um. Sir? I wanna lick her off of you, please can I?”

Phil got up on his hands and knees and crawled up to the space between Clint’s legs that Natasha had just left. Clint watched, wide-eyed, as Phil settled back on his knees, his clean hand tracing down over Clint’s chest to his cock. When Phil ran a finger lightly over it, root to tip, the skin was hot to the touch, tight and swollen and silky-soft. He swiped a drop of pre-come off the head and licked it off his fingertip, Clint’s groan going through him like electricity.

“Give him your fingers,” Natasha said. She was watching them attentively, one hand propping up her head, the other stroking idly over the slope of her breast. Phil held out the hand that he’d used on her, and Clint caught his wrist with strong, callused fingers, drawing it up to his mouth.

Clint didn’t waste any time, drawing both fingers deeply into his mouth and sucking, lapping at them with his tongue. It felt amazing, Clint’s tongue agile and eager, and Clint made happy little muffled sounds that made Phil want to snatch his fingers out of Clint’s mouth and immediately replace them with his aching cock. He held back, though; the longer he waited, the better it would be.

When Clint had gotten every drop of Natasha’s juices off Phil’s hand, he pulled back, his eyes going hungrily to Phil’s face, which still felt a little damp and sticky.

“Please, sir?” he asked, and Phil smiled at him. He felt so good, anticipation and desire coiling between his hips while his neck and shoulders were loose and easy, relaxed and warm. There was no better place on the face of the earth, he thought, than exactly where he was.

“Go ahead,” he told Clint, his voice indulgent and fond.

Clint grinned like a shark and sat up, twisting his body around until he was kneeling in front of Phil. He reached out with both hands, cupping Phil’s jaw, and moved in close. Their bodies brushed as he started kissing and licking the taste of Natasha from Phil’s lips and cheeks and chin. Phil stroked along his flanks, feeling the muscle shift and bunch, and abandoned himself to sensation.

“That’s perfect, Clint,” Natasha said, her voice a lazy purr beside them. “Clean him up for me like a good boy.”

Clint shivered under Phil’s hands, whimpering a little at the praise, though he didn’t stop his ministrations.

“How do we taste?” Natasha continued.

“Good,” Clint said, his words half-buried against Phil’s jawline. “Salty.”

“I was thinking,” she said. “Do you two think you could hold out long enough to both fuck me at once?”

Clint made a noise that could only be described as a squeak, his cock jerking against Phil’s hip, and Phil couldn’t blame him at all; he’d shivered all over himself at the image.

“I could ride you, Clint, while Phil fucks my ass.” Her voice was casual, like she was discussing where to go for lunch, but there was an eager gleam in her heavy-lidded eyes. “And if you’re very good, Clint, and don’t come while you’re inside me, then Phil could ride you afterward.”

“Fucking hell, woman, you’re gonna kill me,” Clint said. He sounded pretty happy about the prospect.

“You’ll love it,” Phil told him, because he was completely on board with Natasha’s plan. “We’ll make you wait so long you ache, so long you’re crazy with it, but you won’t come until we say you—”

A shrill, piercing sound interrupted him, and the three of them froze. It was Phil’s phone, the priority override ring.

“You said you were on downtime,” Clint said, a thread of disappointment in his voice that made Phil’s chest hurt.

“I am,” he said, brushing a kiss over Clint’s pout. “I’m on DND, nobody can even get through except Fury and Hill. Fuck.” He pulled himself away from Clint reluctantly, crossing to dig his phone out of the pocket of his slacks, which he’d thrown over the trouser press in his haste to get naked.

“Coulson,” he snapped.

“It’s Hill.” She sounded only a little less angry than Phil was, her voice thin and flinty. “I need you here.”

Phil bit back the first five things he thought of to say, because he was a fucking professional.

“Is this not something Sitwell can handle?” he asked. “I’m on DND.”

She sighed. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said. “But I need you on this one. Operation Blue Wildcat has blown up. Literally.”

“Fuck,” Phil groaned. “Is it the army or the embassy?”

“It’s both,” she said, her tone grim. “I’ve got three teams gone to ground in four different safehouses and the embassy is howling about national sovereignty. I can’t coordinate our people’s extraction and wrangle the politicians at the same time, Fury’s out of contact at the intelligence summit, and you’re the only other person with the clearance to even know Blue Wildcat exists, let alone help me pull it out of the shit.”

Phil sighed. “All right, fine,” he said. It wasn’t in the least fine. “But I expect comp time for this.”

“I’ll give you time and a half if you get here within the hour,” Hill said.

“I’ll be there,” Phil agreed, and hung up the phone. He felt his shoulders slump as he turned, his nudity and erection suddenly seeming foolish and a little pathetic instead of exciting and powerful.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I have to go in, there’s nobody else with the clearance to handle the situation.”

“Come here,” Natasha said. Phil crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed, half-turned to look at his lovers.

“With any luck, I can wrap it up in a couple of hours,” Phil said.

“You’re being optimistic, I think.” Natasha scooted forward to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Clint scrambled to follow, pressing into Phil’s other side. There was vulnerability in every line of his body, and Phil felt like a terrible person; he would never choose to leave Clint when they were playing this way if he had any choice in the matter. Even after they had gotten together, it had taken a long time for Clint to feel comfortable asking for what he needed; he’d spent too much of his life on his own, his survival dependent on proving himself. Clint’s life was better now, of course, but he still had a hunger to release control; he wanted to feel cherished and valued, to work for his pleasure and know that he’d done well, that he’d pleased them.

It wasn’t that Clint didn’t understand the demands of the job; he was just as much a SHIELD agent as Phil, and he’d never presume to put his personal needs before the mission. That didn’t make it any easier to watch Clint starting to lose his grip on the happy, relaxed headspace he’d been in, to watch him trying to pull a brave face and send Phil off with a smile. This was supposed to be a time and place when Clint didn’t need to be brave.

Phil pressed his lips to Clint’s temple. “I’m very upset at them for pulling me away from you, sweetheart.”

Clint took a tense little breath, and Phil tightened his arm around him even further, exchanging a look with Natasha, who was frowning thoughtfully.

“You know,” she said. “There’s nothing to say we have to stop what we were doing, just because Phil has to step out for a while.” She leaned forward a little, so she could see Clint, who looked half hopeful and half dubious. “Clint, do you think you could be good for Phil while he’s gone, and keep yourself ready for him when he gets back?”

“I—maybe?” Clint said, biting his lip. “I mean, I’d like to, but how would that work?”

“I can send him reports,” Natasha said. “He may or may not be able to respond, but he’ll be able to see that you’re behaving for me.”

“Can we, sir?” Clint asked. The cautious hope in his voice made Phil want to give him anything he wanted forever. “I mean, won’t it interfere with… whatever they’re calling you in for?”

“I’ll let you know if I need to go silent,” Phil said, reaching out to cup Clint’s cheek. “But I don’t have to be in the field; I think there will at least be time to check messages occasionally.” He ran his hand through Clint’s hair, enjoying the way he pushed into Phil’s touch. “Is that something you’d like to do?”

“I—yes, sir,” Clint said. His cock, which had been softening a little despite the ring, gave a happy little jump, starting to fill again.

“We’ll need to take care of you before you leave, Phil,” Natasha said. “You can’t exactly report to AD Hill looking like that,” she gestured at his erection, “as much as we appreciate it.”

“I have to shower anyway,” Phil said, his mouth twisting sourly around the words. “May as well make it a cold one.”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” Natasha said. “Don’t you think, Clint?”

“Yes, please,” Clint said. He reached out and laid his hand over Phil’s cock, the rasp of his warm, rough palm making Phil shiver with want. “Cold shower’d be a waste, sir, it’s so beautiful, you’re so beautiful like this.”

“I don’t have much time,” Phil warned.

“We’ll linger when you come back,” Natasha said. “This is just an amuse bouche, so to speak.” She caught Clint’s eye and pointed to the floor, and Clint slid to his knees immediately on the padded rug next to the bed, shouldering his way in between Phil’s bare thighs and nuzzling up to his cock.

“Show Phil how well you can make him come,” she told Clint. “Fast as you can.”

Clint licked his lips, glancing up at Phil with a wicked glint in his eyes, then moved quick and sure, taking Phil’s cock in one steady glide, into his mouth and down his rippling throat, not stopping until his face was pressed against Phil’s body.

“Hnngh,” Phil gasped, his hands flailing a little before landing on the bed and taking double handfuls of the covers. It felt amazing, his entire body lit up with it, and he trembled with the effort of staying still as Clint swallowed around his cock.

“Lovely, Clint,” Natasha said. She shifted on the bed, kneeling behind Phil, pressing her naked body against his back and slinging her arms over his shoulders so that she could toy with his nipples, every tweak a zing of sensation. “Oh, he loves that, listen to the sounds he’s making. You’re doing that; good work.”

“Good,” Phil agreed breathlessly, moving one hand to pat at Clint’s flexing jaw, unable to help running his thumb over the corner of his mouth, stretched wide around Phil’s girth.

Clint pulled back enough to get some air, working his tongue around the head of Phil’s cock for a moment before he pulled off entirely. Phil shivered at the cooler air of the room on the wet skin.

“You can move, sir,” Clint said. His voice was raspy already, scraped rough on Phil’s cock, and Phil wanted to grab him and shove him back down at the same time he wanted to roll him up in a blanket and kiss him forever.

“Put your hands on my head,” Clint continued. He nuzzled at Phil’s inner thighs, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste. “Fuck my face, please, I want it, I love feeling that you want me like that, like you can’t wait, you just have to have me. Please, sir.”

Natasha nipped Phil’s earlobe. “Do it,” she said. “He’s working so hard, Phil, give him something nice to think about while you’re gone.”

“You are, Clint, you’re doing so well,” Phil said, his voice catching in his dry throat. He hitched himself a little closer to the edge of the bed, spread his legs wider, and reached out to touch Clint’s soft, wet mouth. “Your mouth is so good around my cock, I can’t get enough.”

“Then use it,” Clint said, pressing his body in closer. Phil threaded the fingers of both hands into his hair, cupping the back of his head; Clint whimpered a little, letting his weight settle back into Phil’s hold. “However you want, sir,” he said. “Please use me to come, I want—”

Phil cut him off, pulling his head forward until the tip of his cock brushed Clint’s lips. Clint dropped his jaw with a moan, his eyes shining, and Phil took a moment to make sure everything was lined up properly before giving in to his lust and shoving himself down Clint’s throat.

“That’s it,” Natasha said, the sting of her nails on his chest only adding spice to the almost unendurable pleasure. “Give it to him, Phil, take what you want from him. He loves it, he loves to give it up for you.”

He fucked Clint’s mouth hard, and Clint was completely pliant in his hands, his face blissful even as Phil’s thrusts forced tears out of his eyes. He was moaning around Phil’s cock, doing his best to lick and suck when Phil pulled back to let him breathe, swallowing around him when Phil buried himself in his throat again. Phil could feel the orgasm coiling in his balls, building up higher with every choked-off moan Clint made. He grunted with effort with every thrust, his thighs straining. Natasha drove him to even greater heights with her clever fingers and her filthy tongue, whispering instructions and commentary in Phil’s ear.

His orgasm hit suddenly, finally triggered by Clint’s needy whine as Phil’s cockhead dragged along his tongue. It was hard and quick, and Phil held Clint still on his cock, letting Clint suckle until he was done, his eyes sliding shut with bliss.

As soon as Phil was finished, he pulled out and hauled Clint up, wrapping his arms and legs around him and kissing him fiercely, chasing the taste of himself on Clint’s tongue. He kissed the tear tracks from the corners of Clint’s eyes, aching with the necessity of leaving.

“That was amazing,” he said, between kisses. “That was exactly what I needed, you gave me everything so beautifully, you’re so good at that, sweetheart, thank you.”

Clint sighed happily, melting into Phil’s arms, and Natasha slid around so that she could more easily reach Clint with her own kisses. Phil would have happily stayed there for hours, would have petted and praised Clint until he went all soft and dreamy and then fucked him until his muscles gave out; he couldn’t, though, because he had to go to fucking SHIELD.

Phil sighed, trying to pull himself back into a headspace more suitable for professional activities. He gently urged Clint into the bed, where Natasha pulled him close, letting him nestle into her breasts and kissing his forehead.

“Natasha will take care of you while I’m gone,” Phil told him, leaning in for one last kiss. “I want you to be good for her, Clint. If you don’t smell like pussy from your face to your fingertips when I get back, you won’t get to come for a week.”

Clint whimpered. “Yes, sir, Nat, I will, I promise, I’ll be good.”

Natasha smiled. “Oh, I have no doubt of that,” she said, voice rich with satisfaction.

Phil kissed her over Clint’s head. He tried to put everything he was feeling into the kiss, gratitude and love, respect and desire.

“Hurry back,” she told him, when they broke apart. “You still owe me a good fuck.”

“That’s one debt I look forward to paying,” he told her, then kissed them both again, quickly, before forcing himself to get up and take a shower.

Every step in his routine, from shaving to knotting his tie, deepened his foul mood, though he tried to keep it hidden for Clint’s sake; Clint didn’t need Phil’s negativity messing with his happy mental space. Once Phil left the apartment, though, he stopped bothering to pretend he was anything but pissed, and when he stormed through the doors into SHIELD several people took one look at his expression, turned around, and went the opposite direction as fast as they could walk.

There’d be gossip for months, probably, about what on earth had made him so angry; fine. Phil wasn’t usually a man given to emotional demonstrations, but sometimes it was a little comforting, not to have to smooth his face out into impassivity when he felt anything but.

In the elevator, his personal phone buzzed, and he opened the message.

Phil’s cock twitched at the image; if he hadn’t come spectacularly less than an hour before, he’d have been getting hard again. He typed out a quick reply.

Phil rolled his shoulders and went to the ops room where Maria Hill was trying to contain the clusterfuck that Operation Blue Wildcat had become.

Time to go to work.

Chapter Text

Phil wasn’t usually the kind of man who said “I told you so.”

Well. He wanted to, often—he was only human—but he didn’t usually give in to his desire, because it just pissed people off without making them any more likely to follow his advice in the future. So he generally just thought it, or maybe told Clint and Natasha about it, after the fact.

However, once Maria had laid out the facts of the situation, no power on earth could have kept him from saying “I told the Director that this was a terrible idea.”

Maria sighed, rubbing her head; she looked like she needed a drink, a nap, and an ibuprofen the size of a Snickers bar.

Maybe also an actual Snickers bar.

“I know,” she said. “And he knows, too, but his hands were tied; the Council was insisting it had to be done this way.”

Phil could feel his face twisting at the mention of the Council. He could count on one hand the number of times their opinions had been useful and still have plenty of fingers left to express his feelings. “I don’t see the Council here helping to clean up the mess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Be honest, Coulson, would you really want them here?”

“Well, no,” Phil admitted. “Point.” He groaned, already feeling a headache coming on. “All right, where do you need me to start?”

“I need you on politician duty.”

“Maria—”

“No, I know, don’t make that face. I’ve been doing this for three hours already and I have used up my diplomacy reserves for the next year.”

Phil sat down heavily at the comms station. “All right. Transcripts and key messages already loaded?”

“Yeah,” Maria said. “And the Ambassador is expecting a briefing in the next 15 minutes.”

Phil allowed himself an exasperated sigh, thinking longingly of his bed at home and what he knew for a fact was currently inside it. “You know,” he said, pulling up the relevant intel and preparing to make notes, “I could have been a historian.”

“Oh God,” Maria said. “Please not this again.”

“I was getting solid interest in my thesis before it was redacted,” Phil continued, scanning the Ambassador’s dossier. “I had a real chance at a postdoc at Northwestern. It’s a nice life, by all accounts. Consistent hours, never on call, very little shooting.”

“You’d be bored shitless within six months,” Maria said, “and you’d only last that long because you’d spend three-quarters of your time fucking.”

He tipped his head, conceding her point. “Perhaps,” he said. “But what a glorious six months it would be. Do we think the Ambassador’s business interests are relevant?”

“Probably,” Maria said. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble to keep them quiet. Don’t bring it up first thing, but keep it in your pocket in case we need leverage later.”

Phil nodded, pulling on a headset and pushing the button to make the first call. Halfway across the world, in a country SHIELD where was not supposed to be, the business day was just beginning.

It was going to be a long night.

In the interests of sanity, Phil decided that he would allow himself a ten minute break every hour—or after every call, whichever was longer—in which to take a walk, do breathing exercises, refill his coffee, and other such activities; experience had taught him that regular breaks helped maintain his ability to wrangle politicians without causing another international incident. During his precious ten minutes, he also stole a few moments of privacy in the executive washroom (his clearance level had its minor compensations) to check his phone.

There was already a message waiting the first time.

Phil was impressed; Clint had already been desperately hard when Phil had left. It was a herculean feat of endurance.

A response came almost at once.

Phil swallowed hard. He wasn’t much for chastity, himself, but Clint loved it when he got into a certain mood, and Phil certainly loved the headspace it put Clint in, making him pliant and eager to please, dreamy and drifty and gorgeous. He’d told them that he found it reassuring, affirming, even, to give up the control of his own pleasure in order to focus completely on theirs.

Phil went back to his seemingly endless list of calls feeling refreshed, Maria rolling her eyes and muttering something uncomplimentary about the look on his face. It was a good thing, too, because he needed the fortification; his next round of calls included placating a series of generals who hated Americans only slightly less than they hated each other. By the time he hung up, his throat was sore and his head throbbed. He fled the room in search of some cold water, a handful of painkillers, and a quiet spot to check his messages.

He spent some time admiring a lovely photograph of Clint’s hand, cuffed to the bed with the hand-tooled purple leather cuffs that Phil had commissioned especially for him, then looked at the latest messages, sent about ten minutes before.

Phil smiled to himself. His lovers teased him sometimes about being a mother hen, but the truth was they all three were caretakers, in their own way. It was part of why they worked so well together.

He hoped he would. At the very least, he had pleasant thoughts to occupy him as he stripped down to his underwear and crawled into one of the tiny napping cubbies kept ready for agents to grab some rest without having to go all the way home.

He didn’t remember his dreams, but he woke up hard, his hips shifting restlessly against the institutionally-stiff sheets. At least he hadn’t rubbed off in his sleep; that sort of thing always felt embarrassing, especially in a setting where Phil wouldn’t be washing his own bed linens. He stubbornly avoided thinking about anything sexy until he was decent enough for public consumption, then freshened up in the locker room before making his way back to Maria, only pausing to send a note to Clint and Natasha for when they woke.

The day started off hectic and only got worse as it progressed, and Phil had to move his break schedule to once every two hours, and then once every three, barely able to grab food and coffee and let Natasha know that he’d be out of touch for a while. Finally, though, Hill was successful in getting the SHIELD team out of the country where they definitely weren’t supposed to officially be, and the team delivered some intel that gave Phil the leverage he needed to start gaining concessions. Once he was sure that he was close to a resolution, he took a break to text Natasha.

They’d bought a set of plugs of gradually increasing size, from barely larger than a finger to nearly as thick as Phil’s cock. The set was stainless steel, heavy and finely-made, and hadn’t come cheap; it was well worth it, though, given everything they’d gotten up to with them. The thought of Natasha using the plugs on Clint, working his ass open while his cock was still bound up awaiting Phil’s arrival, sent a bolt of lust down Phil’s spine.

Chapter Text

By the time Phil was finally able to leave, it was after dinner, and he was both twitching from physical inactivity and drained from the hours of tricky negotiation he’d had to do. If Clint and Natasha had been away, he would likely have gone for a workout in the gym and then bunked at SHIELD another night; today, however, he had much better options waiting for him at home.

He got a driver from the motor pool, partially because of fatigue, but mostly because he was already starting to plump up under his suit pants and he didn’t want to get arrested on the subway. He knew that he wouldn’t have a lot of success trying not to think about what he was heading into; Natasha had spent the day texting Phil whenever she’d moved Clint up from one plug to the next, and the last, largest one had come less than two hours previously. He pulled up his messages again, looking at the most recent one.

Phil shivered, his cock filling a little more. It was a good thing he had both a briefcase and an overcoat to disguise his condition, or he’d be giving Agent Samuels an inappropriate eyeful when he got out of the car.

Phil spent the rest of the ride home imagining the sight that would greet him upon his arrival. By the time he got there, it was all he could do to sound normal when he said goodbye to Agent Samuels, and he was glad for the evening shadows that helped him camouflage his groin as he hurried inside and up to the apartment. Through unexpected good fortune, he didn’t encounter any of his neighbors on the elevator or in the halls. Excitement has tended his steps until he was nearly running by the time he reached his front door.

He hurried through his security processes, calling out a greeting as soon as he was inside.

“We’re in your bedroom,” Natasha called back, sounding anticipatory and adorably smug. “We’re all ready for you.”

Phil dropped his coat and briefcase on the sofa, then toed off his shoes and peeled out of his suit coat. He left it all in a jumbled heap in the middle of the living room, then strode back to his bedroom, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants as he went.

He slammed to a halt as he came through the door, so taken with the scene in front of him that he temporarily forgot how to walk. Clint was cuffed spread-eagle, face-up on the bed with his ass propped up on a wedge-shaped cushion, the angle presenting a clear and unobstructed view of the gleaming steel plugging his ass and caging his cock. His head was resting on a pillow in Natasha’s lap; she was wearing Phil’s bathrobe, casually open and revealing her nakedness underneath.

He groaned. “Fuck, Natasha.”

She chuckled. “I think he likes what he sees, Clint.”

Clint hummed happily, stretching in his bonds, a languid roll of muscle that Phil itched to feel against his skin. “Welcome home, sir.” He batted his lashes playfully, a lazy smile curling his lips. “I’m all ready for you.”

“You are,” Phil told him, crossing the room in a few long strides. He crowded up between Clint’s splayed thighs, hooking a finger through the ring on the end of the plug and tugging it. Sure enough, it slid out with barely any resistance, Clint’s hole relaxed and soft, the muscle twitching around the space where the plug had been. “Fuck, that’s beautiful, Clint, you’re so ready.” He opened his fly and shoved his pants and underwear down, just far enough to free his cock, then looked around for lube.

“Bedpost,” Natasha said, and Phil laughed when he saw that a pump-bottle of lube had been secured to the footboard with zip-ties.

That was pretty useful, actually. They should probably leave it there.

“Thank you,” he said, slicking his cock. He circled Clint’s hole with a wet finger, just to marvel at how easily he could push inside.

“Phil, please,” Clint said, craning his neck to see Phil around his own upraised knees. “Fill me up, fuck me good, please. I waited for you.”

“Shh, yes, I know, I will,” Phil said, his hands running helplessly over Clint’s body. He felt so good, hot soft skin over straining muscle. Phil wanted to wrap Clint all around himself; after spending so long guarded and careful, Clint’s eagerness and open love were a gift, soothing balm on Phil’s knotted shoulders and frazzled nerves.

Phil lined himself up and pushed. Clint let out a long, low moan of pleasure as Phil sank into his ass, his body so open that it parted around Phil’s cock without any resistance.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Clint said, his voice breathy. “Phil. So good.”

“Yes,” Phil said, his words going low and sibilant as he tried to breathe around the hot sleek flex of Clint around his cock. Once he was in all the way, he paused, stroking over Clint’s taut thighs and belly, admiring the view.

“Just look at you, laid out all pretty for me to fuck, your gorgeous cock all caged for me.” He flicked the cage with a finger, jostling it a little, and Clint gasped, his body clenching around Phil. Looking closer, Phil could see that the tip of Clint’s cock was shiny, a sticky pool of fluid puddling beneath it where it lay trussed and vulnerable against his belly; Natasha must have been having fun for a while, to milk that much out of him. He met her eyes, and she nodded a little, licking her lips like a satisfied feline. She loved to edge them, and was fearsomely, amazingly good at it. “Natasha said you wanted to save your pleasure for me.”

“Not the same if you’re not both here,” Clint said, his voice strained as he obviously fought the desire to move. “Wanted you, wanted it with both of you, wanted you inside me—”

“You’ll have it.” Phil pulled back about halfway and thrust back in, smooth and slow, even though he was trembling with his own desire to dig his hands into Clint’s hips and just ram into him. “You know I’ll give you what you need, baby.” He angled his cock so that the next stroke ran over Clint’s prostate; Clint made an amazing sound, half moan, half howl.

“Too much, sweetheart?” Phil asked, pausing with just the head of his cock buried inside. “I know Natasha’s been using you so well. Are you too sore for this?”

“No,” Clint panted, his hips hitching back toward Phil helplessly, constrained by the tiny amount of slack Natasha had left him. “’S good sore, please fuck me, I need it.”

Phil stroked in again, pressing against Clint’s prostate and scraping another moan out of him. Another bead of come welled out of his soft, caged cock, and the sight of it lit Phil’s nerves on fire. “All right then,” he said, and shifted his weight so he was poised and balanced, testing his grip on Clint, the way the arches of his pelvis fit perfectly in the palms of Phil’s hands. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, and on the last word he shoved himself hard into Clint and started fucking in earnest.

He was holding Clint still with his hands, keeping himself from fucking him right off the cushion, but the force of his thrusts still jarred Clint’s body, making his bound cock bounce, shoving his head back a little into the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah, please Phil, please.” Clint’s voice was rough and broken, sexy little grunts and cries fucked out of him with every thrust. Natasha watched with hot eyes, scraping her nails lightly over Clint’s chest and arms and teasing his hard little nipples.

“That’s it,” she said, the low purr of satisfaction in her voice running down Phil’s spine like a physical touch. “Yes, Phil, that’s what he needs. He’s been so empty, waiting for you, trying to fill the space with your plugs, but it wasn’t enough. He waited for your cock, inside him where it belongs, isn’t that right, Clint?”

“Y—yeah,” Clint moaned. He was covered in sweat, body gleaming and marked with Natasha’s scratches, the dull shine of the cage stark and lovely against his skin. His mouth was bitten red and swollen, fallen open with his harsh breath and desperate sounds, and his eyes were blown dark, tears glittering at the corners.

“You’re so good to fuck,” Phil managed, though he was rapidly starting to lose his grasp on words, every higher function subsumed in the scalding pleasure of Clint’s ass. “Your ass was made to hold my cock, so perfect and so good for me, there’s no other man on earth I want to fuck as much as I want to fuck you.”

As he said that, he gave an extra-hard shove over Clint’s prostate, and Natasha, eyes shining, reached down with both hands and tweaked Clint’s nipples hard.

“Ah—aaah!” Clint’s back arched off the bed, his eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy, and Phil watched in wonder as his cock jerked inside the cage, a little more fluid seeping out as Clint seemingly came dry.

“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Phil gasped, his pace increasing even more. His mouth seemed to be disconnected from his brain; all he could do was fuck and fuck and fuck into Clint’s beautiful pliant body, telling Clint that he was perfect and good and amazing, that Phil would keep him full of cock as long as he wanted it, that he loved him, he loved him so fucking much—

Clint clenched down hard around Phil’s cock, and it tipped him over, rough and scalding: an orgasm that felt like it was turning Phil inside-out, that he was pumping his whole life into Clint’s ass and at the end he’d be hollowed out and blow away, immolated with joy.

When he finally stilled, he just stood there for a moment, panting, and staring at his lovers; Clint blissful and abandoned, Natasha watching the whole thing with a hungry, dangerous tilt to her lips. Phil was still buried inside Clint, still wearing most of his suit, now a sweaty wreck. He needed to pull out and take care of that.

He’d do it.

In just a second.

“If you can manage to get yourself undressed,” Natasha said, running a tender hand over Clint’s chest, “I can get Clint untied, and you can join us in bed.”

“That’s… yes,” Phil said. “Let’s do that.” He pulled his softening cock out of Clint, rubbing his belly soothingly when he made a dissatisfied noise, and stepped back far enough to get rid of the rest of his clothes, which needed to go straight to the cleaners. While Natasha was neatly unclipping Clint and rubbing out his stiffened limbs, Phil gave himself a quick scrub with a wet wipe and then brought a few more over for Clint. He leaned over to kiss Natasha over Clint’s torso, wet and languid and sweet. They parted with a sigh, smiling at each other before moving apart.

Phil bent down to kiss Clint, too, smooching the toothmarks on his lips. He felt full up and brimming over with happiness and warmth, exactly what he’d been hoping for throughout the long hours at SHIELD. “Should I take the cage and cuffs off now?” he asked, wiping up the puddle on Clint’s belly.

“Hmmm,” Clint said, blinking sleepily at Phil. “Later. I like ‘em.”

“All right, Clint,” Phil said, pressing another soft kiss to Clint’s hipbone and enjoying his pleased little hum.

Natasha stripped off the old sheet that she’d used to catch any stray fluids, tossing it in the direction of the hamper before pulling down the covers and chivvying Clint underneath. She and Phil took their places on either side of him without needed to discuss it; in this sort of mood, Clint always wanted to be in the middle. He wriggled down happily into the pillows and lifted his arms invitingly; they each slotted themselves against one of his sides, pillowing their heads on his shoulders and reaching to hold each other’s hands across Clint’s ribs.

“Push me off when I get too heavy,” Phil said. He wanted to stay awake and enjoy this, but stress and lack of sleep coupled with a phenomenal orgasm were dragging him down into slumber.

Clint made a little sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Phil heard the soft sound of a kiss, and then Clint turned his head and nuzzled against Phil’s temple, kissing him as well.

“Sleep now,” Clint said, through a yawn, and Phil closed his eyes and let his body drift.

Phil woke some time later, dimly conscious of something prodding at his hip. He blinked in the soft light spilling in from the bathroom, finally rousing enough to realize what had woken him; they’d moved around while they slept, Natasha seeking the space she liked and Clint rolling over to wrap around Phil like a very snuggly ivy. He felt good against Phil, body lax and heavy with sleep and—Phil held back a laugh—humping against Phil’s side in jerky little thrusts.

From across the bed, Natasha gave a questioning little hum, and Phil tilted his head at Clint.

“Should we wake him and give him what he’s after?”

“I think so.” She grinned. “If only to save you a bruise from that cage. Get him started, I’m going to replenish our supplies; I’ll be back presently.”

He smiled back at her, leaning up gladly to accept a lingering kiss on her way out. She needed her space, sometimes, especially after an intense session, and this weekend certainly qualified. “Always prepared.”

She giggled. “You’re one to talk.” She smacked him playfully on the ass and sauntered out of the room, Phil’s bathrobe billowing behind her like a ball gown.

Phil watched her go, then stroked Clint’s head and shoulders. “Clint,” he said, his voice soft in deference to the late hour, but still pitched to wake him. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

“Mmmphil?” Clint’s voice was thick with sleep and soft with trust, and Phil kissed the closest bit of his skin, feeling protective and possessive and hopelessly in love.

“Yeah.” Phil let his hands move with more purpose, the strokes turning more arousing than soothing. “Did you sleep well?”

Clint rolled his body luxuriously against Phil’s, humming happily. “Yeah, s’nice. Missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Phil kissed him again, catching the top of his head this time, and then ducked his own head down to find Clint’s mouth so he could spend a little while sucking on his plush bottom lip.

Clint sighed into the kiss, his body going even more relaxed, though his hips kept twitching as the weight of the cage pulled at his cock. Phil ran a hand all the way down his flank and cupped his ass, pulling Clint closer.

“I love how you bound your cock down for me,” he said into Clint’s ear. “How you saved your pleasure for me for so long, baby, I had to force myself not to think about it too much or I’d have been unfit to be seen in the ops center.”

“Did’n want you to be left out,” Clint mumbled into Phil’s neck. “Missed you. This way it was like you were kind of here with us.”

“I’m here now,” Phil said. “And it feels to me like you’re ready to come.”

“Please, sir,” Clint said, a shiver rippling down his back. “Yes, please.”

“I think I told you before I left, what you’d need to do to earn it.” Phil’s own cock pulsed; it would take him a little while yet to be fully hard, but he was well on the way there. “Do you remember?”

“Be good for Nat,” Clint said. “I was, sir, I was so good, I made her come and come, much as she wanted.”

“Mmm, what a beautiful image.” Phil nipped Clint’s earlobe, startling a little whine out of him. “You know, originally I was planning on coming home and checking for myself how good you’d been, seeing if I could smell and taste her all over your face and hands.”

“She gave me a bath, though,” Clint said, wrapping his leg around Phil’s waist with a ridiculous amount of hip flexibility for a man.

“Of course I did.” Natasha’s voice from the doorway was warm and rich with laughter, and he and Clint exchanged a besotted look. Natasha set something down on the bedside table and perched on the edge of the bed beside them, running a hand across their intertwined bodies. “You smelled like a goat.”

Phil chuckled. “It’s just as well,” he said. “Considering that by the time I got here I was in no condition to draw it out.”

“You’re in pretty great condition now, sir,” Clint said hopefully, grinding a little against Phil’s half-hard cock.

Phil slipped his hand down over Clint’s ass and rubbed a finger lightly over Clint’s hole. He was still wet with lube and Phil’s come, still stretched from the hours of being plugged and from his fucking; Phil’s finger went in easily, pulling a shiver and purr out of Clint, who pushed back into Phil’s hand.

“D’you want me again? You can, I’d like it. Just slip right in all easy. Or Nat could fuck me if she wanted, or, or one of you could use your hands. Whatever you want, only please can I come this time? I want to come with you, Phil, I’ve missed it.”

Phil looked at Natasha, quirking an interrogative eyebrow.

She made a face. “I think I’ll limit myself to supervision this round,” she said. “I need about twelve hours more sleep and at least one more hot bath before I come again, or I’m going to go from a pleasant ache to actual discomfort.”

“If you’re spectating,” Phil offered, “would you like to choose what we do?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Weeeell,” she said, “I may have had an idea or two.”

“Awesome,” Clint said happily. “Your ideas are best. What do you want to see, Nat?”

“You saved your orgasm for Phil,” she said. “You were perfect for me the whole time he was gone; I can think of nothing you could have done better.”

Clint gave a pleased wriggle, and Phil kissed his cheek, charmed by his open delight in Natasha’s praise.

“You’ve well earned your pleasure tonight, Clint,” she continued. “You waited a long time. But I’m greedy; I want to see you really work for it.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll love it,” Clint said immediately.

Natasha smiled at him, indulgent. “You see, Phil? You see how sweet he’s been?”

“I do,” Phil said, making his voice as warm and approving as he could. “I love to see it.”

“I’ve been enjoying it the whole time you were gone,” she continued. “I want you to have a chance to experience it properly. I want you to lie back and relax and let Clint do all the work this time. I want you to watch as he fucks the come out of himself on your cock, and then keeps riding you until you’re satisfied.”

Phil shivered, his toes curling at the image. “What do you think, sweetheart?” He threaded his fingers through Clint’s mussed hair. “Would you like that? It might take me a while to come this time; we can do something else if you’re too sore.”

“No, I want to,” Clint said, arching into the contact. “I’m fine, it’ll just let me feel it. I want it to take a long time, want you inside me as long as I can have you there, want you to use me as long as you like.”

Phil felt the last of his drowsiness drop away as arousal zinged through his nerves. “In that case, my dear, I think we need to get you out of that cage.”

Clint rolled off him with alacrity, lying on his back in the middle of the bed and stretching like a cat, shameless and eager. He was still wearing the purple cuffs on his ankles and wrists; together with the dull shine of the cage, it made him somehow look more naked than naked, beautiful and sexual. Phil sat up, running his hands over Clint’s taut stomach and firm chest.

“You look so good wearing things I chose for you,” he said. “If our lives were different, I’d kit you out from head to toe, jewelry and clothes and leather. If you wanted to get pierced I’d watch it happen and pick out rings for you to wear.”

“Fuck yeah,” Clint moaned, pushing his chest up into Phil’s hand.

Phil rubbed Clint’s nipples, making them pebble and rise. “I should clamp these nice and snug,” he said. “The pretty clamps, the ones with the chain between them. I want to watch it swing while you ride me.”

“Yes yes yes please.” Clint’s breathing started to speed up as Phil played, his broad pecs moving faster under Phil’s hand.

“I’ll get them,” Natasha offered. “Here, Phil, you take care of his cock.” She handed him the cage key, a wet wipe, and a cock ring, a more elaborate one than they’d used earlier.

“You have the best ideas,” Phil told her, and she laughed at him over her shoulder as she went to the toy cabinet.

“I just understand your kinks, Phil,” she said. “You’d decorate us every day if you could. One of these days we should get some edible body paint and let you go to town on us both.”

Phil groaned, almost startled with the bolt of lust he felt when he imagined painting streaks of color over their gorgeous bodies and then licking it off. Or maybe having them lick it off each other, or maybe leaving it in place while they fucked until everything smeared and they had to adjourn to the shower.

“Whatever perverted thing you’re thinking, I am so there for it,” Clint told him, jolting him out of his reverie.

Phil grinned. “I think I need to go shopping,” he said. “But in the meantime…” he took the key and unfastened the cage, drawing it carefully off and setting it aside.

“Fuuuuuuck that feels good,” Clint said, and Phil could actually see his cock shift, starting to fill now that the restriction was gone.

“Don’t get too carried away.” Phil wiped him down gently, making sure there were no sore spots or chafe marks from the cage. Before Clint could get too hard for it, he quickly slipped the cock ring into position and fastened the straps; one around Clint’s cock and balls, then a smaller one around just the base of his cock. He gently pulled Clint’s scrotum down to fasten a slim strap between his balls, then traced over the stretched skin to make sure nothing was pinching or scraping. Clint moaned, his thighs twitching, as Phil got him settled.

“So good, Phil.”

“It only gets better from here,” Natasha said, dropping the clamps onto Clint’s belly as she moved to get herself settled on the other side of the bed.

The clamps were tweezer-style, long and elegant, with decorative designs etched into the polished steel. The chain connecting them looked more like a piece of jewelry than anything else, and small clusters of amethyst beads dangled from each clamp. Clint watched intently as Phil checked them over, making sure the rubber tips were smooth and unmarred and the mechanisms in good working order before leaning down to draw one of Clint’s nipples into his mouth. He didn’t bother with subtlety, but sucked hard, scraping with his teeth a little, reveling in the way Clint arched and cried out as his nipple went tight and peaked under Phil’s tongue.

“That’s it,” Phil said. “Good.” He put the first clamp on, making it tight enough that it wouldn’t slide off if Phil tugged the chain, but not too tight for Clint to wear for a while.

“How’s that, love?”

“’S good,” Clint said, reaching up to brush a fingertip over the pinched tip of his nipple and hissing. “Do the other one? Please?”

Phil didn’t bother with a reply, just bent to Clint’s other nipple, working it roughly until it was ready and then sliding the other clamp in place.

“There,” he said, eyeing Clint with a fizz of lust tangling in his belly. “Perfect.”

“Get up, Clint,” Natasha said. “Phil needs to be where you are.”

“True on many levels,” Phil said, delighted when Clint blushed as he rolled off the bed, sucking in a breath when the weighted clamps swayed with his movement.

Natasha handed Phil a few pillows, and he situated himself on the bed, head and shoulders propped up enough to help him see and reach Clint without having to strain anything. Natasha sat cross-legged beside him, where she would be able to look at or touch anything she liked.

Phil leaned up and kissed her. “Am I arranged to your satisfaction?”

She looked him up and down, a satisfied gleam in her eyes, then took his erection in a loose fist and pumped it a few times. It made him groan and arch, chasing the too-light sensation.

“I think you’ll do,” she said. “Look, Clint, see how hard he is? He’s all ready for you.”

“Finally,” Clint said, heartfelt. Phil held out a hand, and Clint used it to brace himself as he moved to straddle Phil’s hips. Clint didn’t need the help, really—he had preternaturally good balance—but Phil liked the extra contact as well as the symbolism.

“Oh, my dear, just look at you,” Phil said, his voice soft with wonder at his own good fortune. Clint’s knees brushed against Phil’s flanks as he knelt astride him, warm and hairy. His torso practically glowed in the soft light; Natasha must have rubbed him down with oil at some point while Phil was gone. The rich color of the leather cuffs echoed the purple glints of the beads on the clamps and the narrow strap holding Clint’s balls apart. Clint’s cock jutted out from his body, his balls already swollen and tight in their restraint. He looked like a work of erotic art, like the pampered concubine of an emperor, like a fantasy come to life.

“Gonna do more than look in a minute, sir.” Clint reached around behind himself, but Natasha swatted his hand lightly.

“Put your hands above your head,” she said. “I’ll take care of things on this end, you concentrate on looking pretty for Phil.”

Clint grinned, wicked and anticipatory. “I don’t know how much I’ll need to concentrate,” he said, then squirmed away, laughing, as Natasha jabbed him in the ticklish spot just below his bottom rib. “Okay, okay!” He winked at Phil, then interlaced his fingers and raised them to just behind his head, arching his back and tensing his torso and thighs like a bodybuilder. His always-impressive musculature popped into higher relief, the spread of his powerful shoulders and the ripple of his abs highlighted by the clamps and cock ring.

Phil made a sound something like “hnnngh,” and Natasha laughed in delight.

“Good boy,” she told Clint, and he preened.

Natasha pulled out some lube—a different bottle from the one still zip-tied to the bedpost—and coated two fingers. “Relax,” she told Clint, tapping his hip with her clean hand, and he released the tension, though he still kept his arms raised. Phil watched in the mirror across the room as she rubbed lightly over Clint’s hole, then plunged directly in with both fingers.

Clint sighed happily, then grunted a little as she moved, his cock giving a jerk; she must have tapped his prostate.

“You’re still open,” she said, sounding pleased. “I’ll slick him up for you and he’ll just slide right in.”

“Do it,” Clint said, licking his lips. He met Phil’s eyes, his expression hungry. “Please, I—I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“You’ve waited long enough,” she agreed, and Phil heard the lid of the bottle click again before his cock was engulfed in cold slickness. He sucked in a surprised breath, but even though it was shocking on the hot skin of his erection, it still felt good.

Clint would warm him up soon enough, after all.

Natasha’s slim, strong fingers wrapped around the base of Phil’s cock. “Come down a little, slowly,” she said, and Clint started lowering his body, still maintaining the posture of his arms and torso and only using his thighs, an incredible display of strength and control.

“Stop,” Natasha said, and Clint froze, quadriceps taut. To watch Clint’s powerful body, Clint’s grace and concentration, all bent to one purpose—the purpose of taking Phil’s cock—was almost unendurably compelling; it was all Phil could do not to seize him and pull him down, rut against him like an animal. But he’d made Clint a promise, so he held himself still, trembling.

“Good job,” Natasha said. Phil wasn’t sure which of them she was talking to. He felt his erection being moved until the tip just brushed against something hot and soft and wet; the entrance to Clint’s body, stretched and waiting for him.

“A bit more.” Natasha’s eyes were dilated as she watched. “Slowly, Clint, don’t be greedy.”

“Y’re killing me here,” Clint murmured, but his voice was hoarse with desire, his nipples and cock red and straining, his face beautiful and broken open with want. He started moving again, achingly slow, and he and Phil both groaned as the head of Phil’s cock breached Clint’s hole.

“Stop,” Natasha said, and Clint whined sharply through his nose, his thighs starting to shake against Phil’s sides.

“Nat, please.”

“I wish you could see this from my viewpoint, Phil,” Natasha said, her tone as casual as if they were making small talk over dinner. “He’s getting desperate, the muscles in his back are twitching with how much he wants to move.” She ran a hand down Clint’s spine, drawing another little pleading noise out of him. “And your cock, pushing his cheeks apart. You’re so thick, you should see how pink and stretched-out he is around you, it’s lovely.”

Phil had to swallow three times before he could get any sound out of his dry throat. “I would love to see it,” he rasped. “It’s amazing enough just f-feeling it.” His hips hitched upward without consulting him, just a half-inch before he caught himself, but it made Clint bite his lip, muscles rippling all over.

“When you’re ready, Natasha.” Phil was trying for a steady tone, but it was pretty much hopeless; every synapse and sinew was straining toward Clint, aching to bury his cock in Clint’s rippling heat, to fuck and fuck him, fuck him until he cried, make him take it and love it and—

“Aaaaand I’ve lost you both again,” Natasha said, giggling a little. “Oh, fine. Clint, go slow, but you can take him all the way.”

“Thank you.” Clint immediately started moving, sinking down Phil’s cock slow but steady, amazing, his body opening around Phil welcoming and silky-hot. Phil’s hands had moved to Clint’s body almost without him noticing, and he ran eager fingers over Clint’s flexing thighs and flanks, letting his thumbs just barely glance Clint’s clamped nipples as Clint bottomed out, clenching around the full length of Phil’s cock.

“There, now,” Phil said nonsensically. “I’ve got you.”

“I rather think it’s the other way around,” Natasha said, tweaking one of Phil’s nipples, making him grunt. “Clint, do you remember what you’re supposed to do?”

Clint shot her a wry look. “As though I could forget.”

She nodded, conceding the point. “You may put your arms down.” He obeyed, shaking them out a little and then resting his hands on his thighs, his eyes darting between Natasha at his side and Phil beneath him.

“You may touch Phil,” Natasha continued. “Or yourself, if you want, but not your genitals. You come on Phil’s cock or you don’t come at all.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Clint said, his voice rough with desire, face and body strained with the effort of holding himself back.

“Well, then, go on,” she said. “Give us a good show.”

Clint bent down suddenly, his body shifting deliciously around Phil, and took Phil’s mouth in a passionate kiss. “Finally,” he panted against Phil’s lips, then before Phil could respond, he sat up again, running his hands along his own torso before covering Phil’s hands with his. Phil turned his hands over and squeezed Clint’s fingers, feeling the tension in the muscle as Clint started to move.

Phil was turned on and very hard, but he’d had an exhausting weekend and had just come a few hours before; he could tell that it was going to take him a while this time. Clint, on the other hand, was pent-up and desperate. The ring would hold him back somewhat, but Phil would be extremely surprised if he didn’t come a fairly long time before Phil would. He thought of Clint, wrung out with pleasure but not stopping, milking Phil’s cock with his sated body, and a deep, possessive part of his brain seemed to curl up and purr.

Clint started out easy, a gentle rocking motion as though he really was riding a horse, rolling his hips and flexing his thighs so he rose about halfway off Phil’s erection before sinking back down. Phil could tell that he was trying to avoid having Phil rub against his prostate, though Phil was thick enough that anytime they fucked Clint would always get at least a little stimulation there.

“That feels so good,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, Clint.”

Clint shivered, his eyes closing. “I waited for you,” he said, his voice already breathy with want. “Phil—sir—I waited and waited.”

“I know.” Phil’s fingers itched to touch, so he did, exploring Clint’s abs and the sharp V of muscle pointing to his groin, then giving in to impulse and running his fingers over Clint’s straining cock. He was so hard, flushed deep red and wet at the tip already, the skin hot and soft and gorgeous to touch. “Natasha told me, she told me how good you were being for me, saving it for me, so I could see you, so I could make you happy—”

“You always make me happy.” Clint spread out his hands on Phil’s chest, combing through the hair, glancing over his nipples. He sped his movement a little, as though he couldn’t help it. “You don’t have to be here, you don’t have to t-touch me—”

Phil touched him some more, making him suck in a breath as Phil’s trigger callous caught on the head of his cock. Beside them, Natasha chuckled, and Phil looked over; she’d moved to recline on her side like Cleopatra, stroking her own skin idly through the opening in Phil’s bathrobe, though he noted she was avoiding her nipples, which were still pink and swollen from Clint’s previous attentions.

“You’d rather he touched you,” she said, deadpan.

“Of course I would, I’m not an idiot, but he doesn’t have to do it to make me happy.” Clint looked down at him, biting his lip, his expression soft and yearning even as he fucked himself on Phil’s cock. “You make me happy anywhere you are, just because I know you—I know—”

“I love you,” Phil said, and then he couldn’t stop talking, even as Clint’s breath caught, as he sped his movement again, slamming himself down on Phil’s cock, letting Phil hammer against his prostate. “Both of you,” Phil babbled, and it was all one now, the hot flex of Clint around him and the smell of their bed and Clint’s face and Natasha’s soft hand, stroking over them both by turns, the fall of her hair as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I love you so much, I never realized how much it was possible to feel until I had you in my life—”

“Phil,” Clint gasped, “yes,” and then he was crying out and coming, pulse after pulse splattering hot on Phil’s chest and stomach. Clint ground down as hard as he could, pressing Phil’s hips into the mattress, curling over like he’d been punched in the stomach. Phil could feel the ripple of his orgasm, all down the length of his cock, and he stroked Clint’s bowed head and shoulders, his hands bumping and tangling with Natasha’s as she did the same thing.

“So good, Clint, come for me, give it to me, that’s right, you’re doing exactly what I want,” he said, straining up in a crunch until he could reach Clint’s forehead to kiss. “Perfect.”

Clint let out a long sigh, the tension in his body gone slack, and Phil felt his cock slip an impossible inch deeper inside as Clint sat back up, his muscles loose with afterglow. He looked so lovely, radiant and sated, looking from Phil to Natasha like a man who couldn’t believe his own luck. Phil felt inexpressibly tender toward him.

“Was it everything you hoped for, sweetheart?”

Clint smiled, open and sweet. “Even better for waiting.”

Phil reached out, stroking over Clint’s bent knee before reaching to flick the snaps on the cock ring and draw it off. Clint sighed as his lax genitals slipped free, sounding deeply content.

“And are you still okay to go on?” Phil asked. He wanted to come, but part of him also wanted to bundle Clint into his arms just as he was, pleasure-soft and sleepy-eyed, and hold him close and safe for the rest of the night.

Clint squeezed his inner muscles, sending a ripple of pleasure down Phil’s cock. “Mmmm, more than. This is gonna be great.” He gathered himself and started moving again, a languid roll of his hips like his spine was full of ball bearings.

“How does it feel?” Natasha asked.

“Good,” Clint said. “Sensitive. He feels so big inside me, Nat, he’s hitting everything.”

“It does feel good,” Natasha agreed. “The way he stretches you out and fills you up, how it’s just on the edge of too much. I’m calling dibs on his first one tomorrow.”

“You gave me two tonight,” Clint said. “It’s only fair.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Phil said, his ears hot.

“Mm, you sure are,” Clint said. He angled his hips a little differently, and hissed as Phil slid past his swollen prostate. A little spurt of come drooled out of his soft cock to join the mess on Phil’s belly. “Phil, fuck.”

“He hammered your prostate pretty good, earlier,” Natasha said, her eyes gleaming. “I bet you’re sore.”

Clint did it again, shivering all over. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gone airy. “Yeah, but it’s good, it’s a good sore.”

“You should pace yourself,” Natasha said. “You don’t get to stop until he comes.”

“You say that like—fuck—like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all. I know how much you love to stay stuffed full, Clint. I just want to see you make him sweat.”

Phil did his best to give her an unimpressed look. “As though I’m not already?”

She swiped her fingers across his hairline. They came away damp. “Not enough,” she said. “I want him to make you shatter.”

“What the lady wants,” Clint said, and then he sat up straighter, his core muscles tightening, and raised up, so far that only the tip of Phil’s cock was still inside. He clenched his hole tight, a ring of sensation around the head. The shaft prickled in the air, cold when compared to Clint’s heat.

He stayed there for a long moment, then Phil whined sharply through his teeth as Clint slammed himself down onto Phil’s cock, setting a punishing, furious pace that drove pained little grunts out of him with every stroke, ah! ah! ah! over and over as Phil’s cock pounded his tender walls. The hard fucking was milking Clint even more, fluid dripping onto Phil as Clint forced Phil’s cock over his prostate again and again. It was surprising and incredible, winding Phil’s entire body up with unrelenting pleasure; he could feel himself tensing, bracing, his cock swelling, lips and nipples and balls tingling and sensitized. Clint’s face was contorted, in pain or pleasure Phil couldn’t tell, tears streaming from his eyes, his lip bitten red, his body shiny with sweat. Phil was sweating, too, breaking out in sweat all over, feeling like the orgasm was building not only in his balls but in his belly and hands, his feet, his heart.

“Clint,” he gasped. “Clint!”

Clint opened his eyes. “Sir, please,” he said, his voice broken and jarred with how hard he was fucking himself on Phil. “Give me, fill me, please, I need it, you, I—ah!”

Phil couldn’t take it any longer, couldn’t stay still for it any longer; he planted his feet on the bed and grabbed Clint’s hips and heaved. He slammed his body up with bruising force, once twice thrice oh, oh, and he was coming then, twisted and transcendent, spilling himself into Clint’s eager body as Clint sobbed with it. His fingernails scraped long furrows as he clutched at Clint, as though he could drag Clint further down, get himself farther inside.

“Yeah, oh yeah, Phil, yeah, please.” Clint’s voice broke, sobs of pained pleasure, and Phil was distantly aware of Natasha’s cool hands stroking over his, loosening his grip on Clint, of Natasha telling Clint how perfect he was, how good for them, how well he took his fucking, such a good boy.

“Clint,” Phil muttered, gone slack and stupid with pleasure, and tried for a caress that ended up more as a flail. “Clint.”

“Look at that, Clint,” Natasha purred. “He’s all come-drunk now. You did that.”

Clint let himself slide forward, a sort of barely controlled collapse. Phil’s softening cock slid out of him as he pressed their bodies together, smearing the mess of his come between them as he kissed Phil sloppily, only finding his lips half the time. Phil managed to get an arm and a leg around him, reaching the other hand blindly out toward Natasha, who captured it and rested it on her bathrobe-clad thigh.

“His hole’s all red and puffy,” Natasha announced, and she must have touched Clint to demonstrate, because he shuddered atop Phil’s chest. “Nice work, both of you.”

“Nap,” Clint muttered, nuzzling his face into the hollow of Phil’s shoulder.

“You’re both filthy, and you’ll crush him if you fall asleep there,” Natasha said. “You make a very heavy blanket.”

Clint made an unhappy sound, but slid himself sideways so the bulk of his weight was on the bed before resuming his cling. Phil missed his heat, but had to admit that it was easier to breathe that way.

“Fine,” Natasha said, but she was laughing. “On your own heads be it when you give yourselves an impromptu manscaping peeling yourselves apart tomorrow.” She pulled the covers up over their entwined bodies, bending to kiss them both, and then wriggled herself in, over the sheet but still under the duvet, sticking out an arm to flip off the lamp.

Clint roused a little. “Nat?”

“One of the people in this bed doesn’t want to fall asleep covered in semen just now,” she said, her amusement clear in her tone. “We’ll have to change the sheets in the morning.”

“Hmm,” Phil said, feeling sleepy and sated and like everything in the world was right. “Maybe after your turn.”

“Yeah,” she said, into the warm and lovely dark. “Maybe after.”