10. Chapter 10

Clint quickly figured out that Phil had taken him up on his offer to go to Phil's place. He knew the turns and stops to his own apartment from all the times Nat had driven him home from SHIELD after rehearsals, and so he could feel that Phil was taking a different route. He actually didn't mind, which surprised him.

Clint had stopped going home with guys after the first couple of times he got stranded somewhere unfamiliar. It was tough to call a cab when he had no idea where he was. He did not want to invite anyone into his space either, which was the only place he truly felt safe outside of Stark's Bar, so he had committed to a life of celibacy out of practicality. Outside of a few anonymous bathroom blowjobs at Stark's, it had been several long, lonely years with his right hand for company.

Riding with Phil at the wheel, though, Clint knew he was not going to get stranded. He also knew he was going to get laid, and his body had some very firm opinions about that. Very firm.

What Clint didn't know was what they were doing.

Phil's declaration was so sincere it hurt, and Clint was glad that Phil asked him to shut up because Clint really had nothing to say in reply. A while back, he had told himself that Phil was another dude with a hard-on for the blind guy (some people liked the idea of fucking a person they thought was helpless) or maybe just had a hard-on for bar flies. Even after all the almost-stalking, and the obvious interest Phil had in rescuing Clint's routine from oblivion, Clint had not taken him too seriously even if he was interested. The bold-faced pick up line at the bar had not told him much other than that Phil wanted him enough to ask, but as they rode along in silence Clint was beginning to wonder what was really behind the invitation.

Much less why he had accepted. Clint had turned away from his emotions a long time ago. He was not sure if he knew how to find them again.

Phil silently gave Clint his arm after he parked the car and they got out. It was a short walk across a parking lot to a sidewalk, and then a step up into an apartment or house. Clint was laying odds on a small condo, but he had very little way of knowing. After a few steps in, Clint tapping his cane for reference as Phil led him along, Phil stopped.

"It's a small place. This is the living room and to the right is a galley kitchen. There is a den to the right off the living room. Bedroom, uh," Phil stalled.

"To the left? Along with the bathroom?" Clint smirked.

"Yes." Phil sighed. Clint heard him take off his jacket and hang it near the front door. Clint imagined that Phil would be the kind of guy who owned an honest-to-god coatrack, and didn't just throw things to land on the back of the sofa. "Let me have your coat, I'll hang it up."

Clint shrugged out of his coat and scarf, handing them over.

"You're good at that," Phil said.

"At taking off my coat?" Clint laughed.

"No, at trajectory. You knew exactly where I was."

"I was a sharp shooter. I have perfect aim; some people have perfect pitch, can hit every note. I hit every target." Clint fondled his cane. "Or, I did. Now I rely on sound and guesswork. People tend to be noisy when they move around."

Phil moved into the living room and Clint followed him. "I hadn't thought of that...oh, I'm wearing corduroy trousers."

Clint snickered. "Yeah, you kind of sound like a stack of paperwork shuffling around. I could follow you on a busy street."

They both stopped. Clint figured Phil was a few feet away. He wondered what the guy looked like, what the expression on his face was right then, and how he saw Clint.

"Are you okay?" Phil asked.

"I'm…I just wish I knew what the fuck you look like. That shouldn't matter, but—" Clint stopped. It was more of an opening than he had given to anyone other than Natasha for a while.

Phil was quiet for a moment, before speaking in soft but curious tone of voice. "I wonder how frustrating it must be for you."

"Some days more than others, but not the way it used to be. I remember, though, how easy it was to just look at someone and know everything about them. I don't…I have no clue what's fucking going on here. Honestly I don't know jack shit about you, other than that Nat said you're my type, and I like your attitude."

Phil moved closer, telegraphing everything he was doing. "Can I have your hand?"

"We've advanced to hand holding already? Can we tell the chaperone to go home?" Clint laughed, but held out his hand.

Phil picked it up and placed it on his face. "I guess this is a little corny, right?"

Clint sucked in a deep breath. "No, not really." He gently ran his fingers over Phil's face. Nothing stood out, other than a small scar on his chin. Eyebrows, nose, cheeks — everything was uniformly masculine, and possibly handsome. Phil stood motionless under the touch, almost vibrating as Clint's fingers ghosted over him. On a hunch, Clint pressed his thumb against Phil's mouth and whispered. "Open for me. Open."

Phil gasped, opening his mouth to let Clint's finger sink in. His thumb was surrounded by soft, wet heat and the sensation made passion pool in his belly. Phil sucked on it, his tongue stroking over Clint's skin. Clint's other hand ghosted over Phil's face, noting that his eyes were closed and his muscles relaxed. Clint gently pulled his thumb free and Phil groaned. Stepping into Phil's personal space, Clint nudged at his face with his nose and his mouth until his lips landed on Phil's. He kissed him, dropping his hands to wrap around Phil's waist and haul him closer. Phil went with it, pliant and willing, his body slumping a little to fit tightly against Clint until they were pressed together like jigsaw pieces.

"Phil, damn." Clint pulled back for air.

Phil tensed up. "Too much?"

"What? No. Hell no. I just can't believe you want me to drive." Clint ran his hands up and down Phil's arms, soothing him.

Phil shrugged, using the motion to try and shuffle in closer again. "I can't imagine why I wouldn't."

Clint laughed. "Most people don't trust a blind guy behind the wheel, you know?"

Phil draped his arms over Clint's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. His mouth was near Clint's ear, his breath hot and moist and loud. "Take me."

Clint seized up reflexively, tightening his arms around Phil's torso until he thought he might accidentally break a rib, lifting him up just a little so that he was holding almost all of Phil's weight.

Phil groaned. "Oh fuck, fuck, your arms—" he babbled on with a litany of half-words as Clint held him. After a few breaths Clint loosened his hold, settling them on even footing again. Phil was panting into Clint's ear.

"I haven't topped since before the accident." Clint whispered, the admission embarrassing if only because it showed how badly he had handled the changes in his life.

Phil rested his forehead on Clint's shoulder, still holding on to Clint like a limpet. "By choice? Or you just don't like to? I can, if you want. I'll do anything. Clint, please, anything, just ask."

"By choice mostly," Clint said, trying not to feel disappointed in himself. He sighed "I want to. I love it, I want to fuck you into the mattress, okay?"

Phil surged against him. "Yes, yes. Okay."

Clint pulled Phil's arms off his shoulders, ignoring the annoyed grunt he got in response. "For that to happen, we kind of need a mattress. I think we're still in the living room?"

"Damn it." Phil grabbed his wrist and pulled, dragging him along. Clint laughed as he trailed behind Phil toward, he assumed, the bedroom. Phil turned when they went through a door way and led Clint to the bed. "Here. We're at the foot of it, not the side."

"How big is it?" Clint crouched down to feel the top of the mattress, getting a gauge on its height and size.

Phil coughed, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "There is no way I can answer that without becoming the butt of a joke."

Clint grinned. "Queen, huh?" He reached out and grabbed Phil's upper arms, using his leverage and the element of surprise to toss Phil onto the bed. The bed creaked as Phil landed and bounced with a loud "oof" noise. Clint paused for a moment—if he could see he would have been checking Phil out, and it was more muscle memory than because he got anything out of it. But he imagined what Phil looked like falling onto the bed after willingly letting himself get tossed around, and no matter what Phil actually looked like, the image in Clint's imagination was hot as hell. He crawled onto the bed, his hands out until he felt Phil's legs. Phil was on his back, his legs spread wide. Clint ran his hands up over Phil's knees and thighs with a heavy touch, pushing Phil into the mattress. Phil let out a breath that was halfway to a groan.

"Fuck, Clint. I like the way you drive." Phil melted under Clint's touch.

Clint smiled. He still had his sunglasses on and he planned to keep them on, knowing how crazy his expression was otherwise. He pushed down on Phil's hips with both of his hands, then leaned forward to slowly move up over Phil's torso. He moved slowly but didn't linger, his fingers splayed wide to catch every jump of Phil's muscles. Phil felt perfect, muscular and pliant under him. He was easy to undress, lifting his arms and arching up so that Clint could unbutton his shirt and pull it off of him. He was less gentle in getting the undershirt off, yanking it over Phil's head impatiently, willing to rip it if required.

Phil put his hands on the junction between Clint's shoulders and neck. "There's so much I want to do, but we're not in a rush, are we?"

"Maybe a little," Clint grinned down at him.

Gentle fingers rubbed slowly over his skin. "You have somewhere else to be?" Phil tensed up a little, a small tell that he probably was not even conscious of.

Clint took a second to breathe in slowly, letting his own hands come to rest on Phil's bare chest. Clint was sitting on his heels between Phil's legs, still fully dressed himself other than his shoes. "No."

"Just eager?" Phil said, but as light as the tone of his voice was, he remained tense.

"Usually these things are one-offs. You can only get so much action in on one night."

They were both very still for a while, Clint focusing on the feel of Phil's fingers on his shoulders as they pressed down. "We can do that if you want. If that's your comfort zone. Whatever happens here stays here. Tomorrow is a blank slate." Phil's voice was steady but Clint heard the disappointment.

"I'm a broken wreck, Phil. Hey—" He flinched and closed his eyes as Phil pulled his sunglasses off.

"I told you: you're the best thing I've ever had a chance at." Phil ran his hands down Clint's chest to rest on his hips. "I'll fall in love with you so fast it will make your head spin. But if that's not what you want, then give me tonight the way I want it, not some heated rush to get off."

Clint's heart was in his throat. "And how do you want it?" He knew he sounded wrecked.

"Make love to me, Clint. Take me, fuck me, talk dirty, hold me when I come."

Clint could feel Phil's heart hammering in his chest under Clint's hands. He fell forward and placed his head between his hands, resting on Phil's sternum, pushing him down. "Yeah. And if I want…if I want the rest of it?"

"Then stay. Don't call a cab and run, stay and sleep in with me. Let me make you breakfast in the morning. Let me…damnit, let me be that person for you."

Clint had the blinding thought that Phil just wanted a pet to take care of, someone who had to rely on him for everything. He knew it wasn't true, though, because as much as Phil had helped him he had never hovered, or treated Clint as anything but a competent professional. Clint knew the warning signs of someone who had a fetish for helplessness, and Phil didn't fit any of them. For the first time since the accident, he felt like someone was talking to him and not his limitations. Phil wanted Clint, broken or whole, and Clint knew he was not going to walk away from that if he had the option to stay. Phil was already filling up parts of his world he thought were empty forever, and Clint had wanted the man too long to say no. He tipped his head down a little and placed a soft kiss on Phil's chest. Phil let out a sound that was not quite a groan, breathy and low.

Clint quickly undid Phil's trousers but held back from yanking them off of his legs. He pulled them down, letting his knuckles drag over Phil's skin, making him squirm and cuss. He kissed his way back up one leg, then tugged Phil's underwear off, kissing his way back up the other leg. Near his hip, Phil smelled musky and sweaty in all the good ways, and Clint shifted over to run his nose and lips up Phil's cock. Phil shuddered but stayed still, his hands twisting the sheets.

Giving a blowjob was something Clint prided himself on. He loved doing it, almost as much as he loved fucking, but it was something else he had avoided because it put him at a disadvantage. Sitting on your knees with a guy's cock in your mouth meant you couldn't see their reactions, or if they were getting ready to change the situation. His youth in the orphanage and in the circus meant that Clint's paranoia was ingrained, but losing his sight had made it worse. Phil, though, was easy to read and Clint trusted him. He took Phil's cock in his mouth and suckled it lightly, teasing out Phil's reaction. Phil whined, a thready sound that was punctuated by a repressed hip thrust. Smiling, Clint took him into his mouth. He was out of practice and could never really deep throat anyway, so he wrapped his hand around the base with a tight grip. Phil grunted and again held back from thrusting. Phil's dick was as sturdy and built as the rest of him, filling up Clint's mouth. By feel it did not seem too large, but it was thick, and the salty taste of pre-cum was rich and intoxicating.

As he bobbed up and down, saliva running down over his fingers as he jacked what he couldn't fit into his mouth, he felt Phil bumping his other hand. Clint let go of Phil's hip and took the bottle. He lifted up. "Lube?"

"Yeah." Phil gasped as Clint twisted his hand over Phil's cock on the upstroke. "I have…condoms…fuck!"

Clint snickered and let go, causing Phil to almost-whine again. He lubed up the fingers on one hand before bending over again to suck on Phil's cock. His slick fingers pushed back into the heat between Phil's ass cheeks, probing around until Clint could feel Phil's hole, which clinched up. Clint smiled as best he could, then set about taking Phil apart with his mouth and fingers. He had two fingers sliding in and out when Phil tugged on his hair hard. Clint pulled off, saliva running down his chin. "Ow?"

"Gonna come, damn it. Just, unh." Phil stopped and rolled his hips as Clint curled his fingers to press against his prostate. "Want you in. Side. Inside." He sounded desperate but determined, all but thrashing on the bed as Clint finger fucked him but trying to hold off from orgasm. "Ready! So ready. Oh, Clint. Please."

"Gonna let me get undressed?" Clint smirked.

Phil sucked in a deep breath and clutched at Clint's shirt. "No. Don't."

Clint flushed down to his core, imagining how it would look for him to be still in his jeans, fucking a fully naked Phil Coulson. How it would feel to have such a strong man, ex-military and a Ranger no less, completely vulnerable under him. Clint squeezed Phil's thighs, then unzipped his jeans with shaking hands. He pushed them open just enough to drag his dick out, sucking in a deep breath when it was freed.

"Here, here," Phil said, knocking his hand again, this time with a familiar square of foil.

Clint took it and ripped it open, then carefully rolled the condom over himself. He was not sure what Phil was doing in the meantime, other than being really still. His dick was hanging out of his pants and he assumed he probably looked pretty stupid but his libido was in charge and he didn't care. He leaned over on all fours. "Front or back?"

"Face to face."

"Yeah, okay." Clint scooted forward, and felt Phil shift to put a pillow under his hips to raise them up. Clint tried to pay attention, stuck in the dark like he was -- he did not even know if Phil had turned on any lights when they entered the room -- because he wanted to feel every inch of Phil under him, but part of his mind kept drifting away. He felt that there was nothing he could ask that Phil would not at least try to do, and the feeling scared him. It was responsibility and love and everything Clint had thought was out of shot for him, after so long living on the fringes of his own life.

Phil's hands stopped him, holding his face. "Just to be clear, I want more than this. I want you to stay with me."

"Aw, Phil. Damn." Clint held himself, his hips thrusting forward even as his brain skittered over the possibilities. "I can try. If you want. I mean, I want to. I want to stay." Clint turned and kissed Phil's palm. "Now let me fuck you." He nipped at the skin of one of his fingers.

Phil chuckled, wanton and breathless. "Do it."

Clint pushed in, his dick jerking from the sensation. Phil was still tight but not impossible, yielding to the penetration. Phil's bare, strong legs wrapped around his waist as Clint pulled out and then thrust back in. Phil grunted, then sighed, as Clint bottomed out. He almost regretted keeping his clothes on, wanting to revel in the feel of flesh on flesh, but if Phil was serious — if he wanted a former carnie and disabled vet filling up his bed and his life — then Clint figured there would be time later for that. Or at least, he hoped so. He crouched down as he slammed in again, wrapping his arms completely around Phil and pulling him up into a kiss. Phil scrabbled at his back before both hands landed on Clint's still-covered ass.

Their kisses turned frantic and sloppy as Clint started fucking in earnest, working his muscles in a familiar but long-unused way until he thought he couldn't breathe anymore. Phil was holding on, his hips jerking a little as he made small, precious sounds that Clint swallowed up with his mouth. Clint was gasping, the feel of Phil under him and around him and holding on to him charging his senses up until he felt his orgasm running like a live wire down his back. He tried to warn Phil, to say something, but he was gone. He let out a soft cry, his mouth falling open as he came pumping into Phil so hard the bed was bouncing on the floor. Phil cut off a shout and Clint felt him come, clutching around him, burying his face into Clint's chest. He was shuddering, his hips jerking. Clint pressed down his whole body, finishing out his own orgasm with a sigh.

"Damn," Phil said after a few moments.

Clint laughed and slowly pushed himself back, pulling out of Phil with a groan. Phil's hands ghosted over him and then quickly pulled the condom off, snapping it with a knot and tossing it into the trash can somewhere to Clint's right.

"Can I get undressed now?" Clint ran his hands up and down Phil's torso, still skin hungry and eager to cuddle, even if he wasn't going to admit that out loud just yet.

Phil laughed back at him. "Please do. I'm getting a towel for clean up." Phil rolled off the bed as Clint made short work of his clothes. Phil came back and rubbed him down with a hot wet towel, slow and loving, giving Clint small kisses before pulling back the covers and pushing Clint under them. Clint heard and sensed the light next to the bed going off and then Phil was there, next to him, close but not invading his space.

"Am I that scary?" Clint asked, twining their fingers together under the sheet.

"No, I'm just not that presumptuous. I, uh, like to be close after sex, but if you don't—" Phil stopped when Clint rolled into him, landing with a thud.

"I won't tell anyone you like to cuddle if you don't tell anyone I like to cuddle."

"Your secret is safe with me," Phil said with a smile. Clint sighed and felt himself start to drift off, hazy in post-sex pleasure, Phil safe in his arms.