Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1642853.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Marvel_Cinematic_Universe, Marvel_(Movies), Agents_of_S.H.I.E.L.D._(TV)
  Relationship:
      Clint_Barton/Phil_Coulson
  Character:
      Phil_Coulson, Clint_Barton
  Additional Tags:
      Daddy_Kink, Underage_Sex, porn_sitting_around_in_my_gdocs
  Collections:
      ClintCoulson_Lives!
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-16 Words: 1535
****** Melting Ice in the Sun ******
by foxxcub
Summary
     Phil Coulson has a secret, and the secret happened by accident.
     Actually, the secret is the accident. And that accident’s name is
     Clint Barton.
Notes
     Hello, have some daddy!kink that's been sitting around collecting
     dust. This whole thing is part of the filthy brain child of myself
     and sirona, so blame it all on her.
     FTR, Phil is 25 while Clint is 16-17 and VERY consenting. Proceed as
     you will.
Phil Coulson has a secret, and the secret happened by accident. Actually, the
secret is the accident. And that accident’s name is Clint Barton.
Clint himself isn’t really the secret, though, Phil always reminds himself. He
takes Clint out to dinner and the movies; one time they even when paintballing
and it was one of the best nights of Phil’s life. No, Clint’s not the secret.
The fact that he’s seventeen, however, very much is.
Phil tells people that he met Clint at a bar, which is true. He tells people
they hit it off from the start, which is also true. He tells people Clint is a
junior at the local university, which is decidedly not true, although Clint had
managed to convince Phil of the opposite for nearly three months until Phil
found his driver’s license. The exact moment Phil had realized he’d been having
filthy, raunchy, mind-blowing sex with a sixteen-year-old is not a moment he
ever wants to revisit.
That was seven months ago. Clint’s no longer sixteen, but he’s still not at the
point where Phil won’t, you know, get arrested if anyone took it upon
themselves to look into things. He once tried making himself hold off touching
Clint again until Clint’s eighteenth birthday; Clint had had other thoughts on
that matter. And when Clint puts his mind to something, he more than likely
gets his way.
Phil knows this. He’s learned it the hard way. He’d inadvertently learned it
the night he’d taken what he’d assumed was a twenty-one-year-old up to his
hotel room and proceeded to fuck him into the mattress. Three months later,
Phil had found out that what he’d thought was a fantastic night of sex had also
been Clint’s first time.
“You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want,” Clint had said, blue eyes wide
and pleading, his jaw set in a stubborn tilt. “I saw you in that bar and I
wanted you. End of story.”
It’s so fucking hard to say no when Clint turns the Bambi eyes on him.
The thing is, Phil wants a lot with this kid, more than he probably should.
Phil is twenty-five and owns his own condo and has a car payment and gets a
Christmas bonus every December. Clint, on the other hand, is seventeen and
lives with his fourth set of foster parents in Section Eight housing. His
foster dad is a drunk, the mom works three jobs, and Clint just quietly falls
through the cracks. He lost his real parents seven years ago to a car crash,
and he’s got an older brother off somewhere whom he never talks about without
getting a pinch above his eyes. Clint didn’t even have a winter coat until Phil
took it upon himself to buy one and then pretend it was just an old coat he had
lying around that didn’t fit anymore.
Phil also pretends that he doesn’t leave his front door unlocked so that Clint
can slip in during the night and crawl into bed with him. Sometimes his cheeks
will be a little damp, but Phil never pushes. He’d only learned about Clint’s
family after they’d gotten drunk one night watching a Terminator marathon.
He doesn’t think about graduation coming up in May, or the fact that Phil
wants, more than anything, to help Clint get into college. He wants his
boyfriend to be a college kid for real.
But they don’t talk about that stuff. Phil doesn’t even let himself call Clint
his “boyfriend” out loud, because he honestly doesn’t know what they are. Maybe
Clint sees him as a meal ticket, or maybe just an outlet for all his raging
teenage hormones. Phil hates assuming anything.
So he makes himself be content with what they have right now, which is...well.
Something Phil is most definitely going to hell for at some point, because a
moral human being doesn’t introduce a seventeen-year-old to daddy kink by
accident.
~
It just...slipped out one night when Clint had been riding Phil’s cock like it
was made for him, body stretched out like a gift of smooth, tight skin and
muscle. Phil, without thinking, had dug his hands into Clint’s perfect ass and
growled, “You make daddy feel so fucking good.”
Clint’s eyes had gone wide and dark; five seconds later he’d come like a
freight train and splattered Phil’s chest. Phil had wanted to be mortified, but
it was hard to be embarrassed when Clint had melted into him afterward, pushing
his face into Phil’s sweaty neck.
“Am I your good boy?” he’d whispered tentatively, licking at Phil’s ear, and
fuck, Phil had never come so hard in his life.
It kind of became a thing after that.
~
Phil is in his office, going over forms and documents and other soul-numbingly
boring things that pertain to his job. His email keeps overflowing, and he’s
got an overseas conference call in forty-five minutes he really wishes wasn’t
happening. Phil glances at the clock on the wall across from his desk--it’s
only twelve-thirty. He hasn’t eaten anything all day.
The stress headache he can feel building behind his eyes is a given.
So when Phil’s phone buzzes with a text, he ignores it at first. It buzzes
again a few minutes later, then another time. Phil rolls his eyes and finally
grabs it, hoping like hell it’s not Stark in marketing sending out a mass
message inviting everyone out for shots after work.
Both messages are from Clint.
U busy?
R u alone?
That can’t be good. Clint’s in the middle of spring break, which means he’s
spending his days camped out in front of Phil’s TV watching SportsCenter and
eating every bit of food in the house. It also means Clint gets bored very,
very easily.
Sorry, in the middle of something, will talk later, Phil types back in a hurry
as another five emails pop up in his inbox. God, he just knows he’ll have to
stay late tonight; he doesn’t like making Clint eat dinner alone--he gets
enough of that at home.
It’ll just be a sec pls?, Clint sends back, and Phil groans and drops his head
into his hand. He can just hear Clint’s perfect, manipulative begging tone. At
least Phil’s being spared the Bambi eyes.
He sighs heavily, types Okay fine, what is it?
A minute goes by before Phil gets a new text, this time with a video
attachment. He knows before he evens opens it that he’ll regret this decision.
On instinct, he glances toward the door of his office, scrunches down a little
further into his desk chair, and plays the video.
The instant it begins to play, Phil bites his lip. Hard.
Clint is sprawled across Phil’s suede ottoman, legs spread. He’s looking at the
camera with an extremely sad, puppy-eyed expression that completely belies the
fact that he’s shirtless, and his shorts are riding obscenely low on his hips,
half covering his ass. But the worse part, the very worst part, is that Clint
his touching himself. He’s slowly, methodically thrusting his hips up against
the hand not holding his phone, lazily running his palm over the bulge of his
hard cock.
I miss you daddy, says the text immediately following the video.
“Jesus,” Phil breathes, already flushed. He closes out of the video like it’s
on fire, but it’s too late; he’s already gone hard in his pants. Like there was
anything else he was going to do when faced with something like that.
You know I’m at work, he sends with as much indignant irritation as he can
muster.
But because Clint is trying to kill him, Phil gets back in reply, Im just so
hard. feel empty w/out you.
Phil closes his eyes and swallows the desperate moan he can feel sticking in
the back of his throat. God, what he wouldn’t give to call up Clint right now
and jerk off to the sound of his voice; Clint goes all low and shaky when he’s
close, voice breaking slightly like he’s just hit puberty, and Christ,
sometimes Phil really is a sick fuck.
No. Phil isn’t going to do this right now, because Phil is an adult. Phil is a
professional. And professionals don’t come in their good pants while at their
desk.
Can you be a good boy and wait for me? I’ll take care of you soon, I promise,
he types back with shaking fingers.
It’s several long moments before he gets a reply back. Phil uses those minutes
to get his breathing under control and will his erection to go down. He
definitely doesn’t think about Clint squirming on the ottoman, whimpering at
his phone when he sees the words good boy.
yes, comes the eventual reply, and Phil knows Clint’s pouting from that one
simple little word.
He lets himself grin and tilt his head back against his chair. Clint knows Phil
always rewards good behavior, and this time will be no exception.
Phil just needs to get through his emails and his conference call, finish the
day like a working, responsible adult. Tonight he’ll be the best daddy his boy
deserves.
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