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Clint's maybe ten years old tonight, baleful and obedient rather than petulant and sarcastic the way he gets when he's playing older. He sits on the floor by Phil's feet, watching cartoons and laughing quietly at what's happening on screen. Phil waits it out, working on a few emails and whatever else there is on his tablet til Clint's ready to call the next shot.
The show finishes and ads for garish toys blare out as Clint turns to rest his cheek against Phil's knee. "What are you doing?"
"Just some work, sweetheart. But it's nothing important. Do you want to play?"
Clint nods without lifting his head and Phil puts down the tablet, switches the TV off and runs the fingers of one hand through Clint's soft, clean hair before resting it on his neck. "What do you want to play?" He asks.
Sometimes Clint really does just want to play games together; Phil plays along because it’s what Clint wants to do. But today there is no such preamble. Clint presses a finger gently to Phil's crotch and then turns his eyes back on Phil, the ghost of challenge he's never quite able to shake no matter what age he decides to be, as though Phil would deny him anything in this state or any other.
"Yeah?" Phil asks and Clint nods again with a tiny smile, pleased that Phil’s letting him have this without any Talking, letting it all slide the way Clint wants. It’s a pure indulgence, a fantasy that Phil’s happy to help him realise.
Phil spreads his hands and lets Clint do as he pleases, which today is to swiftly unbuckle his belt and undo his fly. Phil helps him get his cock free and then, at Clint's gentle tugs lifts his ass so Clint can ease his pants all the way off. Clint's being very neat, picking up the pants and folding them, albeit haphazardly, and placing them on the couch with a look of contrition. Phil places a hand on Clint's cheek. "You're a good boy, Clint', he says, because that's all somehow a part of this for him, and Phil wants to give him whatever he needs. He leans down to place a warm kiss on Clint's forehead, making him squirm. "Daddy," he chides, pushing him away.
Phil sits back and Clint pushes and pulls his legs to where he wants them, positioning him just so with a determined look on his face. When everything's how he wants it Clint sits back and nods approvingly before shifting a little closer to nose against the soft warm fuzz at the base of Phil's cock. He inhales deeply and Phil finds his hand gravitating to his hair to pet it, smiling down at Clint when he sits back and his eyes find their way to his.
Clint gently presses the pads of his fingers against Phil's balls, teasing and separating them in their sac, playing but always careful not to hurt him accidentally. He smooths the hair one way and then the other, absorbed in his own enjoyment rather than aiming for any great amount of stimulation. Phil's pretty hard anyway though, since he can't help but be hard when Clint's between his legs and touching his balls, and his cock gets treated to something similar: gentle prods and strokes and touches, pulled down and allowed to spring back up a few times to a guileless huff of laughter.
When he's done playing using his hands, Clint licks his lips and looks up at Phil. "Can I?" He asks, and Phil nods yes, of course. Clint starts with Phil's balls, since he gets so fascinated with them when he's little, licking the skin and softly sucking at them. Phil holds off the urge to jerk his own cock since he sometimes takes that as Phil trying to hurry up his fun and gets upset. Instead he rests his hands on his thighs and watches Clint's closed eyes as he nips and sucks and plays.
Clint eventually sucks the head of Phil's cock into his mouth, trying to push his tongue into the slit and generally making a sloppy mess. It's a stark contrast to his usual blowjob prowess, but this isn't really a blowjob, it's Clint playing with a toy that his daddy lets him have when he's been good. It feels nice, and Phil enjoys it, but it's rarely enough to get off, and that's ok since it's not meant to be.
When Phil really can't take it anymore, he softly says, "Clint," and Clint stops what he's doing. "That's enough now."
Sometimes Clint whines and Phil lets him get back to it, where he'll put a little more technique into it til Phil's coming wherever Clint points his cock - usually his mouth - but usually, Clint wants to wrestle instead.
Clint squeals and jumps up, bounding off to the bedroom. By the time Phil gets there he's naked and under the covers, sheets pulled up to his nose with eyes owlishly watching Phil come in. "Look at this mess!" Phil exclaims, picking up Clint's discarded socks, underwear and pajama bottoms, counting them in to the hamper. "Hmm, that's four. I’m gonna have to give you four spanks for being so messy!"
"No!" Clint cries, giggling as he shifts down the bed and pulls the covers over his head.
"Yes!" Replies Phil, yanking back the sheets. Clint squirms and makes a feeble attempt to get away, turning onto his belly easily when Phil pushes him that way.
"Four spanks coming up!" Phil warns, stroking a hand over one perfect cheek of Clint's ass. Clint yelps and giggles again, gasping when Phil slaps him once. "Daddy!"
"One," Phil counts as he soothes the skin with his palm. They aren't hard slaps, they never are when Clint's little, everything's a little softer, muted in play.
"Two," he says after the second. He counts out two more and then presses a kiss to Clint's slightly warm cheek once he's done and Clint quietly says he's sorry.
There's a ridiculous blueberry scented lube they bought one day that they've ended up using every time they do this, and Phil spreads it thick over Clint's hole before gently easing a finger into him. Clint gets so relaxed when they get into this that it doesn't take long before he's taking three fingers easily, pressing back against Phil with each soft thrust. Phil taps him on the ass again and reminds him to be patient.
By the time he's satisfied that Clint's ready for his cock he's whining impatiently, grumbling to himself about how long his daddy always takes to do anything.
"Hey! You keep complaining and you won't get to play with Daddy's cock at all."
"No," whines Clint. "Please?" It's so plaintive, and Clint turns to shine sad eyes at Phil as though he really is going to put a stop to this now, as achingly hard as they both are.
Phil smiles indulgently. "Come and give me a kiss."
Clint shifts quickly to press a soft, wet kiss to Phil's mouth, smiling when he's done as though he's gotten away with something. Phil holds him in his arms and kisses his forehead again, pondering which way to play this since the shots are his to call once they make it to the bedroom.
He lays down and pats the bed either side of his hips, watching Clint. He grins and comes to straddle Phil, who tells him, "hold yourself open, baby," so he can guide his cock in as Clint slowly sinks down.
Clint's face is contorted in concentration as he slowly takes his fill, grinning once he's sat flush with Phil's hips. "Oh Daddy," he sighs happily, and Phil's pretty far gone too since he smooths his hands over Clint's hips and shudders beneath him, saying, "good boy."
Clint gives an experimental little shift of his hips as though he's not done this a thousand times before, and Phil eggs him on til he's riding him, drinking in all the "that's right, good boy, yeah keep going, you're doing so well, so good," that Phil feeds him, til it's just a mess of Clint fucking himself happily and Phil letting him. "Does it feel good, baby boy?" He asks, and Clint just nods wildly. "'M I doin it right?"
"Perfect. Exactly right."
Eventally, they shift so that Phil's on top, so he can fuck Clint properly, ranging over him and fucking him deep and fast. Clint cries out and holds on tight, eyes screwed shut as Phil pounds into him, grinding down when he comes deep inside him. Clint squeaks afterwards, clinging on even harder when Phil starts to pull out. "No, please. Just a minute longer?"
Phil acquiesces and holds himself over him, staying still while he jerks Clint to a squirming orgasm of his own. When Clint comes like this he's so open about it, sighing and huffing and giving no mind to sounds he otherwise might hold in.
He still sighs sadly when Phil does pull out, but he tries to make up for it with kisses and strokes and promise after promise that Clint's a good boy and that Phil's ever so lucky to have him.
Phil lets Clint keep up the age thing as long as he wants - they've gone entire weekends a few times - but this time Clint coming back to being an adult is when he stretches out after a nourishing nap and rests a hand on Phil's hip. Something about the touch is different, and Phil rolls over to see Clint getting up to go take a shower - something little Clint doesn’t tend to do unprompted.
"Hey," he calls out from the bed, and Clint when he turns back gives him the same wary smile he always does afterwards, a little guarded since sometimes Phil makes him talk about stuff and he rarely wants to. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," he huffs, like he's tired of Phil asking. But he doesn't move, he just stands there a second before saying matter of factly: "I love you."
Phil smiles. "I love you, too."