Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/541765.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(2012), Marvel_Avengers_Movies_Universe
  Relationship:
      Clint_Barton/Phil_Coulson
  Additional Tags:
      De-aging, Desk_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-20 Words: 809
****** Didn’t Know You Went for this Kind of Thing ******
by allofthefandoms
Summary
     Clint had been hit by something, no one was quite sure what, and it
     had left him in an 18 year old body, still fighting off the last
     ravages of puberty and 5 inches shorter and 60 pounds lighter. For
     days after the transformation, Phil looked at him with a guilty
     wanting expression, like Phil was a pedophile and Clint wasn’t a
     consenting adult with all of his memories intact. Clint hated it,
     downright hated it, and at day 4 Clint had all but given up ever
     being wanted the same way as he had been as Hawkeye the Avenger.
Notes
     I tagged for underage because there is discussion of underage issues.
     All parties involved are over 18 and consenting, but I figured I'd
     tag it just to be safe.
     Inspired by the following prompt over at AvengerKink: Clint gets de-
     aged to around 18. None of his memories are effected, just his
     physical body. He's still him, just in a younger package. Phil feels
     kind of like a dirty old man. It's still not going to stop him from
     fucking Clint on every surface they can find.
Clint found himself pressed back against the desk, Phil’s hand tight across his
now much less defined chest.
“You remember.” Phil’s voice is gravel, and years of conditioning sends the
sound straight to Clint’s cock, even though he has the wry thin body of a carny
kid rather than the bulked up body of a super-assassin. And for once, Clint is
looking up, and somehow it makes him even harder. Clint was twenty when he had
his last growth spurt, growing a full five inches that year despite the
biological odds, and so his nose brushed Phil’s chin in this body. It was
really fucking hot.
“You remember me fucking you over this very desk and even though this body is
young enough to belong to my son, we both still want it.”
God does Clint want it.
In a way, Clint has always wanted it, from the moment he set eyes on this
imposing man in a suit. He only wanted it more when he learned that Agent
Coulson was Phil, a Captain America fanboy and lover of Supernanny and the BBC.
And when Phil had kissed him back after that desperate mission in Budapest, it
was like everything in his world had fallen right into place.
And then this happened. Clint had been hit by something, no one was quite sure
what, and it had left him in an 18 year old body, still fighting off the last
ravages of puberty and 5 inches shorter and 60 pounds lighter. For days after
the transformation, Phil looked at him with a guilty wanting expression, like
Phil was a pedophile and Clint wasn’t a consenting adult with all of his
memories intact. Clint hated it, downright hated it, and at day 4 Clint had all
but given up ever being wanted the same way as he had been as Hawkeye the
Avenger.
But right now Phil is fumbling with the belt on his regulation uniform, hands
shaking with lust, and all Clint can do is moan and want. After an agonizing
eternity, Phil gets Clint’s pants undone and Clint helps him kick the pants to
the floor. Phil falls with them, wrapping his mouth around Clint’s cock and
sucking like its candy.
Clint feels even more sensitive than he remembered, and he had no idea if it
was his body or just the waiting, but soon Phil had Clint moaning and writhing
underneath him.
“Need you,” Clint begs, not sure if he wants to pull away so he doesn’t come
like a teenager or let Phil pull him over the edge with that sinfully beautiful
mouth. But Phil seems intent on riding Clint right on his desk, because once
Clint is so hard he feels there is nothing left but an orgasm, Phil pulls away.
“I’m going to split you right open,” Phil growled, taking just a moment to
slick himself up with hand cream before pressing right in. The burn was
agonizingly beautiful. Clint was moaning, grabbing the edge of the table in an
effort not to simply crumple to the floor. Phil was setting a hard pace, the
desk squeaking ominously under them. But Clint hardly cared. This was Phil,
taking him just the way Clint liked, even though he looked different. This was
Phil, reaffirming that this was more than just fucking, and Clint went off like
a rocket, Phil’s name choked out through the spasms.
It didn’t take long for Phil to come either, three short erratic thrusts that
only served to magnify Clint’s own pleasure. As they both trembled through the
aftershocks, Phil eased them to the floor, a soft smile on his face. They are
both breathless and shaking, but Clint is wonderfully fucked out and the come
down is perfect.
“Didn’t know you went for this kind of thing,” Clint said, gesturing to his wry
18 year old frame. Phil just laughed, slightly choked and still panting. Clint
can’t help but be oddly touched, and when Phil grabbed his hand, rubbing a
thumb over familiar calluses (archery is archery, and hours of practice leaves
the same marks no matter what the skill is used for), Clint leans against him,
his smile genuine.
“Was scared you wouldn’t want me like this,” Clint confessed after a moment of
comfortable silence, curling around Phil’s side. “I look very different like
this, and when you wouldn’t even talk to me for days, I feared the worst. I
hated that you treated me differently because of my body when I’m the same up
here.”
“I thought it was wrong to want this body,” Phil whispered, running a hand down
Clint’s spine. “I’m sorry I gave the impression that I didn’t want you.”
“Don’t think that now,” Clint said wryly, shifting as the soreness from their
fucking began to set in. “Ass hurts too much to think that.”
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