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They're in the middle of sex, well the middle of the preamble to sex, the foreplay that's sort of definitely gonna be sex, when Phil says it. They're face to face, arms wrapped around each other while Clint tongues Phil's neck, both their hands ghosting around the others ass, squeezing and kneading asscheeks. They’re both fresh out of the shower, towels bunched up and forgotten underneath them, making the bedsheets damp.
Phil watches Clint's mouth when he brings his hand up to wet his fingers, not looking away when Clint's fingers return and slide over his asshole. He keeps his hands on Clint til they end up shifting, til Clint starts to really work his way in and Phil scrabbles for the lube that's hidden between the mattress and the headboard.
Clint stretches out alongside Phil, trapping one of his legs between his own while Phil holds the other out of the way, giving him all the space he needs to work his fingers in and out, hooking them and pulling gently up, down, scissoring them against the pressure of Phil's muscles even as he tries to relax. He's doing all this while he's kissing Phil's neck, and yeah, it's a preamble to sex, sure, but Phil goes wild for just this, and when Clint licks over his adam's apple at the same time as he adds a third finger, Phil whispers it: a mindless "yeah, stretch it out," and immediately tenses under (and around) Clint's attentions.
He says it every time, more or less, and Clint never says anything cause Phil goes all weird and rigid, and then avoids the conversation when Clint tries to bring it up after, but this time, Clint adds more lube, one arm still mostly under Phil's neck the way they're laying, and instead of continuing to kiss him til he relaxes again, whispers back. "You want me to stretch you out?" and Phil's cock actually jumps to hit Clint's arm. He makes a little sobbing sort of gasp and Clint licks over the wet shine on his neck again, moving his fingers some more. "I'm gonna, Phil. Gonna be able to get my whole hand in you when I'm done."
As he's saying it, Clint's thinking of how Phil tells him he was born to take cock or that they're gonna stay in bed for a whole year or something - just mindless bullshit that you say when you’re turned on - but Phil's fucking writhing and the leg that's not between Clint's is getting pulled even more outta the way. "Please," he says, shy and breathless like he's already about to come, "fuck, Clint, please."
"Yeah?" Clint asks, cause for all Phil's efficiency in everything else he's so weird about some of this shit. He can't just say what he wants even though he’s always telling Clint that's the only way to communicate. Clint soothes his fingers over the rim of Phil's ass before sliding them back in and making him catch his breath again. He just nods and gets his hand between Clint and his dick. "What do you want?"
"You. Don't make me say it."
"You want me to stretch you out?" Phil nods at him and practically squeaks. "Wanna feel my whole hand?"
Phil nods again and breathes in shaky breaths. "Your fist," he says, and when Clint looks at him he looks scared, like how Clint feels when he comes home with something broken, like he's gonna get in the shit for something, like Clint's gonna be mad.
Clint kisses him hard, cause that's just stupid, and he's so lubed up he can already get another finger into Phil so there're four bunched up digits that make up practically the size of his cock already.
"That's four," he tells Phil, sucking at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and working his fingers in and out til he absolutely has to move cause his other arm’s going to sleep. Phil whines a little, like Clint's changed his mind, but then Clint's sucking his cock as well as fucking him with most of a bunched up fist so the whine turns into another gasp of pleasure with no small trace of surprise. "Stop," Phil says pretty quickly, and then he laughs like he's losing it. "Fuck, Clint. Stop, you'll make me. I don't wanna come til... til-"
"Til I got my fist inside you," Clint finishes, and Phil's head hits the pillow with another sob-gasp thing.
It's actually surprisingly easy for Clint to get Phil's ass open enough to take his thumb, working his fingers in with half the thing of lube, a cone shape made out of his hand like a lumpy kind of butt plug, til all that's stopping him is the knob of his knuckles. Phil's just, Clint's never seen him like this, like he's drunk or something, mindlessly coming out with stuff like 'open me up, tear me open' that Clint's not sure he even realises he's saying. "Fuck me, fuck my ass, open me up, please," he says, and then he shouts out some incoherent sound when the knuckle of Clint's thumb finally slips inside him.
It's like Clint's sucked in after that, and he's doing it, he's actually fisting Phil, his whole goddamn hand inside his ass so it's just Phil and then Clint's wrist, hermetically sealed inside his body. Phil leans his head up to look down at Clint with the most amazed look on his face, just pure disbelief and happiness and lust.
Clint tries to pull his hand back, and his knuckles catch again, the widest part of his hand resisting against the taut edge of Phil's body. But he makes it out and Phil's ass tries to close up, not quite making it all the way, pink wetness visible where Clint's stretched him. He adds more lube, rubs some right over the hole and Phil hisses at how cold it is til Clint slides his hand back into place. It's easier this time, and it gets easier still, til he's sliding his hand in and out, telling Phil how he's fucking his ass open with his hand, giving him the other hand just so he can see it, visualise that palm and those fingers where they are inside him.
It's so warm inside Phil, warm and tight, but silky soft too, in a way Clint wasn't expecting. Phil's still muttering to himself and holding onto his cock, stroking himself every now and again but mostly just holding on, like it's anchoring him there, keeping him in place. Clint soothes his free hand along Phil's thigh and stills the other one, waiting for Phil to look at him so he can make sure he's ok, but he doesn't look up, he just keeps gripping onto Clint's hand and jerking himself off, and Clint doesn't have the heart to stop him; he's never seen Phil this out of it.
Clint just kinda stays there, rubbing his own cock on the bed sheets while he holds himself where he is and watches, trapped there feeling Phil's muscles clamp down and flutter around his hand and his wrist as he gets faster and faster, til he's coming suddenly with a shocked little gasp on one of Clint's minute shifts in and out, muscles almost painful the way they squeeze around him.
It feels like Phil's coming for ages, making more little sounds of surprise as white stripes over his belly and his hand and the hand of Clint's he's still holding onto. Even when he's stopped ejaculating, his muscles keep contracting around Clint, and he whines when Clint starts trying to pull himself out, finally looking at him. His face is half blissed out, half what the fuck just happened, and Clint wants to hold onto him, kiss that look of whatever it is off of his face because it was perfect, he’s perfect, and he needs Phil to know.
He manages to get himself free, watching the pulse of Phil's ass as it gapes and contracts, moving unbidden, uncontrolled by Phil no matter what he does. Phil reaches for him and he keeps looking, watching where Phil's not quite closing all the way, still so open and loose, wondering how long it'll stay like that, if Phil's gonna have to wear a plug or something, how they should've talked this over before, how maybe Phil's gonna be mad, that perhaps this was a mistake, but he goes, lets Phil pull him up and into his arms, kissing him all over his face and doing the thing where he breathes in Clint's scent, burying his nose in his hair. "Thank you," he says quietly, into the hair on the side of Clint's head right next to his ear. "That was..." he's still breathless, and the cum on his stomach is smearing over Clint, but he doesn't care, this feels like something else, something other than sex, beyond it. "Thank you," Phil says again instead of finishing his sentence.
"You ok?" Clint asks, hand still lubed up enough to wrap around his own cock and move it a little, just enough, just enough til he knows it's ok. Phil laughs and blinks his eyes hard, laughing some more. "Do you mind?" he asks, and Clint tuts at him, cause jesus. "Fuck you, 'do I mind'. I've never seen you like that, Phil." Phil looks at him blankly, and Clint shakes his head. "It was hot. I love getting to see you like that. I love getting to make you like that."
Phil kisses him deeply and keeps his eyes closed when he pulls back, looking at Clint's hand on his cock when he opens them, smiling a little like that's the proof he needs to know Clint's not lying to him. Clint tuts again. "Seriously, are you ok?"
"Never felt better," Phil replies, grinning, his face still filled with disbelief. Clint lets go of his cock to reach between Phil's legs where he's let them fall now, easily pressing two fingers into him and gasping at just how open he still is. "Are you gonna need a plug?" And there’s something about that idea that thrills him in some undefinable way.
Phil shrugs. "You wanna fuck me first?"
Clint studies Phil's face for signs that he's just fucking with him, but he's deadly serious, smile turning into a filthy grin before he pushes Clint onto his back and easily slides down onto him.