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Traction






Story Info



Title: Traction

Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)

Fandom: The Avengers (MCU)

Genre: Erotica

Rating: MA / FRAO

Characters: Clint Barton (Hawkeye), Phil Coulson, Tony Stark (Iron Man). Mentioned: Nick Fury, J.A.R.V.I.S., Pepper Potts.

Pairings: Clint/Phil/Tony (also: implied Clint/Phil, implied/past Pepper/Tony)

Summary: Clint and Phil are already involved but not totally compatible. Tony completes the circle.
Complete. (Sequel: "Adhesion")

Written for: lasairfhiona on Avengers Fest 2013.

Warnings: Sexual content (m/m/m –threesome, oral sex & anal sex & hand-job), porn-with-very-little-plot, language.

Disclaimer: Iron Man, Avengers and Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon, Shane Black, Kenneth Branagh, Joe Johnston, Louis Leterrier, Paramount Pictures, Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Universal Pictures. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.

Beta: Mythra

Feedback: Very welcome, con-crit and all.


About Traction: This is my second time writing Phil/Tony, and my first time writing any variation of Clint/Phil (which I know is a rather popular pairing in the fandom).

I hope the recipient of this gift (lasairfhiona) enjoys the story!


Story and status: Below you see the writing process of the story. If there is no text after the title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.

Traction








Written for lasairfhiona on Avengers Fest 2013.





Traction



“Are you sure about this?” Clint asked, leaning against the wall right next to the corner of the hallway where they were loitering. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder at the hallway around the corner, his eyes instead aimed at that one reflective panel on the wall that showed him what was happening behind his back.

Phil didn’t bother with such subtleties: the door of the meeting room was tightly closed and no one would be exiting for another five minutes. “You aren’t?” he challenged Clint’s question.

“I still have to work with the guy after this,” Clint pointed out.

“And I don’t?”

“You have your own team now,” Clint said, a bit bitingly.

The archer hadn’t said it out loud until now – and probably wouldn’t in the future, either – but he knew Clint felt betrayed Phil had gone and formed his own team instead of handling the Avengers. Phil didn’t bother telling the other man that in a tight situation, director Fury still had his number on speed-dial: when the Avengers needed to assemble, there was no time to establish a chain of command with them; they would need someone the superheroes already knew and trusted.

“How do you know this is going to work?” Clint asked after a bit, clearly anxious. He wasn’t showing it, but Phil had worked with him long enough to sense it.

“It will,” Phil promised.

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Pepper said it would.”

“You talked to Pepper Potts?” Clint frowned.

“It seemed… necessary, considering that they only recently drifted apart.”

This shifted Clint’s resolve, and he lowered the foot he had been propping against the wall. “They broke up?”

Phil gave Clint a look. “You didn’t know?”

“Everyone thinks they’re still together.”

“For the sake of appearances. They’re… comfortable, but it isn’t working out. Still, I felt like clearing things with her first.”

“And what did she say, exactly?” Clint demanded to know.

“Nothing I need to repeat,” Phil informed the younger man.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Clint scowled at him, cast a look down the hallway and walked away, back straight, shoulders drawn.

- - -

Tony left the meeting with a barely contained sigh of relief. He had never enjoyed meetings, even when in charge of his own company, and attending one at S.H.I.E.L.D., under Fury’s orders, didn’t make him feel any better about it. Sure, some of the matters had actually been of interest to him, but it felt like they were keeping him out of the loop while trying to make him feel like part of the team – and that meant Tony was going to go home, warm J.A.R.V.I.S. up for a little firewall cracking, and then go see for himself what these shady bastards were trying to keep his nose out of.

If Fury got his leather coat in a twist because of that, Tony could always point out to him that he should know better than to expect anything else when asking Tony to sit in on one of his meetings.

“Mr. Stark,” a voice called out from behind him. The hallway had previously been empty save for him, and Tony halted at the familiar tone.

“Agent,” he replied before he turned, every movement calculated and careful. “I heard rumors that your untimely demise wasn’t so unexpected after all.”

“Unexpected, yes; permanent, not so much,” Phil Coulson told him as he stepped out from around a corner.

“Were you actually planning on coming out of hiding eventually to tell us we mourned your passing for nothing?” Tony asked, voice edgy. He was unable to help it, even now.

“It was bound to come to light eventually,” Coulson pointed out. “Officially, we’re not supposed to be having this conversation.”

“Officially, I don’t care.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here, Agent?” Tony asked. “Going to tell me to keep my nose clean?”

“I might, if it would do me any good,” Coulson cracked a tiny smile of amusement. “I’m here to take your mind off things for a bit – and to ease your conscience.”

“My conscience?” Tony frowned.

“Everyone knows you took my death harder than the others. You felt responsible.”

Tony scoffed. “We were all responsible – you more than most,” he pointed at the other man. “Besides, you seem to be doing okay, so my conscience is doing just fine.”

It was hard to tell whether Coulson actually bought it or not.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” the agent decided.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be having this discussion, officially.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t talk while on the premises,” Coulson noted. It was all an act, of course, because if Tony wasn’t supposed to know – officially – that Phil Coulson was alive, then it didn’t matter whether they talked or not if and when they were seen together. It wasn’t Tony’s business to tell the agent that, though, so he followed Coulson’s lead and resumed walking towards the exit.

- - -

Clint glanced at the wing mirror and unlocked the doors just before the one on the far right was yanked open. Tony Stark slid inside, giving him a cursory glance – then a longer one.

“Barton,” Stark greeted, poorly concealing his surprise.

“Stark,” Clint inclined his head. “I gave your driver the day off,” he added, knowing that was the question on Stark’s mind right now.

Phil took that moment to slide inside, forcing Stark to scoot over on the back seat.

“Am I being kidnapped? I feel obliged to tell you, I don’t handle that kind of thing very well,” Stark noted. A hint of nervousness was in his voice – nervousness that, if improperly handled, would lead to a rather quick, explosive ending, depending on which reports they chose to believe in. Clint suspected that any reports S.H.I.E.L.D. had put together didn’t compare to the truth, which Stark would be playing extremely close to his chest.

“No,” Phil said, giving Stark a reassuring smile. “We just want to take a drive with you.”

“The two of you?” Stark asked. He wasn’t inching towards the other door, or looking overly concerned, but Clint could admit he would have been confused, too, if put in the other man’s designer sneakers.

Clint started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot before Stark could think of a protest. He didn’t. The guy was smart and knew how to bide his time when it was necessary.

After deciding they weren’t being followed, Clint drove to a warehouse area by the East River, slowing down as they approached a familiar building. In the back seat, Phil grabbed his phone, sent a text, and a moment later one of the warehouse’s roll-up doors opened. Clint drove them inside and switched off the engine, darkness descending around them as the door fell shut behind them.

Stark was silent for about three seconds, which was two seconds longer than Clint had expected. “Are you going to sink my feet in cement and toss me into the river now?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Phil huffed and got out of the vehicle. Clint followed him and Stark wasn’t far behind, blinking at the darkness around them.

Why are we standing in a dark warehouse?” Stark asked after another few seconds had passed.

“This place is discrete and bug-free,” Clint offered by way of explanation, then looked at where Phil was standing; his eyes were getting used to the faint light coming in through the dark film on the windows near the ceiling. “This was your idea; you explain the rest.”

“The rest?” Stark asked, looking at Phil as well.

“We’re here for a very specific reason,” the agent started, then took a pause. Clint knew he had thought this over a dozen times before even talking Clint into agreeing to it. Also, Clint was still fairly certain Stark was going to leave, so he wasn’t going to act surprised when all the waiting was for nothing.

Stark looked around the dark warehouse, then back at Phil. “Enlighten me,” he requested.

“Agent Barton and I have had an arrangement for some time,” Phil started, which surprised Clint, forcing him to pay attention. Was this really the way Phil wanted to lure Stark in?

“An arrangement?” Stark cracked a grin. “That sounds downright filthy.” As Phil offered him no correction, the smile fell a bit. “Wait. I don’t want to read the situation incorrectly by mistake –”

“I’m sure you aren’t,” Phil reassured him. “S.H.I.E.L.D. frowns upon fraternization, to a certain degree, and neither of us has ever had the inclination to go against those rules in full force.”

“But you still have an arrangement,” Stark confirmed.

“Of a sort,” Phil nodded. “After recent… events,” which meant Phil’s supposed death, “we’ve felt like we need to step up our game. And while the obvious answer might also be the one that works best…”

“Why am I here?” Stark asked. “To hold your hands while you go at it?”

“He’s thinking of you holding something else,” Clint cut in because he was getting tired of the chase. “We’re not… compatible, in all the right ways. The emotional bond works for us the best, but sometimes the physical side of things needs to be addressed.”

“I’m still not following,” Stark admitted, which had to be painful for him.

“We need a middle man. Literally,” Clint put it bluntly. Stark was a genius – he could work out the details.

“How ‘middle’ is middle?” Stark asked after considering it for a moment. The fact that he wasn’t laughing – or taking the car and leaving – was almost like a sign from above that Phil had been right. Still, Clint wouldn’t admit defeat until they were at the finish line.

“We trust you,” Phil told Stark – the bastard. “That is why we’re all here. And I have a feeling you need this.”

“You have no idea what I need…” Stark muttered.

“Maybe so,” Phil admitted sagely, “but you have something we need. It’s entirely up to you, though, whether you offer that to us or not.”

“What are you looking for – an invitation on a silver platter?” Stark asked, giving Clint a quick look. “I need facts to work with. Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

“As pleasant as that would be, I have other things to attend to later today,” Phil stated.

Clint didn’t want to think about that – of Phil going on his own missions, where Clint didn’t have a reason or the jurisdiction to be there. They would still see each other, hear from each other, but it was always hard.

So, to not waste the time they had, Clint blurted out the plan: “One of us gets your mouth on their dick, and the other gets to fuck your ass.”

Stark knew how to play this game, obviously, because he didn’t seem surprised in the least. “Do I get to choose who gets which?”

Clint blinked. He had expected at least a word of protest from a notorious playboy who used to splay himself on the cover of every magazine known to man with a beautiful woman – or two – on his arm.

Stark pointed a finger at Clint, the digit aimed somewhere between his chest and crotch. “I suck your dick,” he announced, then looked at Phil. “Agent here gets to fuck me.”

Phil just nodded, as if they were negotiating a fake weapons deal with a known terrorist. “Shall we?” he asked then, raising one hand towards the back of the warehouse.

Stark’s eyes moved to follow the motion, to find whatever Phil was pointing at, and Clint took the cue to start walking towards the small office that had a secret passage to a safe-house beneath it. Phil had made sure no one but them would be using it today.

They got to the office, which looked just as empty and unassuming as the rest of the warehouse. However, the secret hatch in the floor led them down to a basic S.H.I.E.L.D. safe-house, equipped with a bed, bathroom, emergency kit, some ammo, computers and tech, as well as various maps of the surrounding area.

“Cozy,” Stark commented when Clint switched on the lights. “I know a nice hotel just a few blocks from here,” he added.

“Too risky,” Phil said at once.

“Right, because you two are being so secretive about this.”

“You’re the only one who knows,” Clint informed him. “Well, you and Natasha.” Stark didn’t seem surprised by that. Phil, however, raised an eyebrow at Clint, who shrugged. “You were dead, for all I knew – possibly because of me, too. I had to tell someone.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Phil told him.

Stark pointedly rolled his eyes at the two of them and went to explore the area. He looked like a dog sniffing out the corners of his new whereabouts; cautious yet interested. Clint and Phil watched him complete his circle, at the end of which Stark halted a few feet from the narrow bed and looked at the two of them with a mildly challenging expression – as if the two of them wouldn’t have the guts to finish what they had started.

Phil replied by undoing his tie with one hand and unzipping his pants with the other.

Clint didn’t even bother to try and hide the small smile that crept to his face at the brisk, matter-of-fact motions – and the obvious response as Stark’s pupils dilated.

- - -

Their time was limited, and Phil knew that stalling at this point was only going to lead to a failure at going through with their plans.

Clint had clearly grown weary of the slow approach Phil had tried to achieve with Tony, and it was possible the younger man had the right idea: Tony was still here, watching as Phil tugged off his tie, his jacket and his shirt. His cock was already interested – had been since Tony casually made his choices as to who was doing what.

Phil had no reason to argue with the plan, and he was glad Tony hadn’t required any further explanations as to why he was here.

Clint began to follow his example, unzipping his jacket before sliding it off. Phil pressed his advantage, stepping out of his pants after undoing his belt, then tugged off his shoes and socks. The floor was almost uncomfortably cool, but it grounded him a little. His fingers slid to his boxers.

“Okay, woah,” Tony’s hands rose. “I appreciate a brisk pace as much as anyone, but do I at least get a kiss?”

A smile teased Phil’s lips. “Take off your clothes and we’ll see about that.”

Tony frowned but started undressing as well. He hadn’t worn one of his tailored suits – or an Iron Man armor – to the meeting; the leather jacket and simple t-shirt under it looked just as good on him as black tie, and Phil hadn’t missed how his jeans fit him perfectly without clinging to every inch of his skin.

That didn’t mean they didn’t cling to the places that really mattered, and as Tony half-turned to deposit his shirt and jacket on a chair next to the bed, Phil got a look at the curve of Tony’s ass – just before Tony undid his jeans and tugged them down.

Clint hummed approvingly next to Phil. “I can see why you didn’t complain about being chosen to pound that.”

“You want to switch?” Phil asked, just because it was polite.

“Nah,” Clint grinned at him and turned towards him, already naked. The archer’s hands slid over to Phil’s hips, pulling his underwear down and wrapping calloused fingers around his shaft. “I’ll enjoy getting to shut him up.”

“Hey!” Tony snapped defensively.

“Shut up, Stark,” Clint ordered, not looking away from Phil, and then he leaned in and Phil opened his mouth to respond to the imminent kiss. He felt his boxers drift the rest of the way down his legs, ending up at his ankles. To return the favor, Phil reached over to jerk Clint’s cock, the familiar length curving a little like Clint’s favorite bow.

When they drew apart, a good while later, they both looked over towards where they had last seen Tony. The man had sat down on the bed, looking like a dismissed child. He was slowly stroking his own cock while obviously watching the two of them. Tony stopped the second their eyes landed on him, as if he’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar. “I’m allowed to get off on this, right?” he asked. “I’m not just some…”

“Convenient thing with two holes to fuck?” Clint asked.

Phil lowered his hand and pinched the sensitive skin at the base of Clint’s cock, making the man hiss in pain. “What Agent Barton is failing to express is that we’re appreciative that you’ve agreed to be here and… complete our normally somewhat dysfunctional sexual relationship.”

“Right,” Tony frowned.

“You’re not just a buffer,” Phil told him, leaving Clint and walking over to the bed. His hand slid towards Tony, slowly, giving the other man time to block the motion or move away from it, but eventually his fingers landed on Tony’s jaw, caressing the side of his face down to his neck.

“You don’t need to make it sound so complicated,” Tony spoke up after a bit, having a hard time looking between Phil’s eyes and cock – the latter being closer to his face. “I like sex.” He said it like it explained everything.

Clint was being quiet, which meant he was waiting for Phil to make his move – to get this show on the road. Or, to convince Tony that all this wasn’t just a decision made on a whim.

“We didn’t ask you at random,” Phil told Tony, knowing how much the man liked being wanted – being needed. Tony covered it up with a bad attitude, and Phil felt bad using those needs against him, but it wasn’t a crime when neither of them wanted to hurt Tony. “You’re here because we think this could, perhaps, be expanded past today.”

Tony blinked at his words. “You’re really going to ask me out with your dick poking me in the forehead?”

Clint dared to snort with laughter.

“Let’s just see how this works out, okay?” Tony decided, one hand moving up, work-hardened fingers settling around Phil’s cock and instantly finding a comfortable rhythm stroking it. “Want me to suck you off for starters?”

“I thought I was going to fuck your ass.”

“Your loss,” Tony shrugged, hand stopping. Phil almost groaned at the loss, but he wasn’t twenty anymore, and he wanted to make this last. He looked over his shoulder, and Clint instantly knew what he was going to ask for; he moved to Phil’s abandoned jacket, finding a couple condoms and a small tube of lube. It was possible Tony flushed a bit at the sight. “You were walking around the S.H.I.E.L.D. base with those in your pocket?”

“I thought you would prefer protection, this being our first time together.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” Tony stammered and shifted. “How do you want me?”

“Hands and knees on the bed – unless you have a better idea?”

“It will do,” Tony murmured and drew his feet onto the bed, moving so that his head was towards the foot off the mattress – leaving him at the perfect level for Clint to come and join them.

Phil scooted behind Tony, opening the tube of lube and smearing some on the fingers of his right hand, warming it up. Clint looked at the process – as did Tony, a bit awkwardly over his shoulder. “Breathe,” Phil ordered then, and moved his fingers to Tony’s hole. It twitched a little at the first touch and Tony faced away from him. His hips pushed back, though, as if to make a statement. Phil elected to ignore it: Tony may have done this before, but he hadn’t done it with them, and that was all that mattered to Phil.

His first finger slid in easily enough, breaching the new territory. He soon added another, taking his time, the heat of Tony’s ass clutching around him. The unconscious grip of his internal sphincter refused to relax for quite a while, and Phil tried another tactic, hunting around the inner wall for the gland he knew would level the playfield a little. He found Tony’s prostate long seconds later and rubbed over it, and eventually Tony’s hips twitched in a way that wasn’t conscious at all.

“Okay,” Tony breathed. “How about getting to the fucking part?”

“You’re not ready.”

“Fuck ready. I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can,” Phil mused and pushed his fingers apart from each other, opening Tony up a little. He didn’t speed things up, though, to Tony’s frustration.

“I don’t break so easily,” Tony muttered.

“Don’t rush him,” Clint ordered. He was standing by Tony’s shoulder, stroking himself, and Tony turned his head to look at the lazy movements of his hand.

“How about we get started on the other half of the party?” Tony suggested.

“Not before he’s good and ready,” Clint argued.

“Afraid you can’t hold back?”

Clint’s stance changed at the challenge. Phil looked up at him – and shifted his hand, pushing a third finger inside Tony. Their eyes met, and it was clear that as much as Clint wanted to shut Tony up and show him just how long he could keep himself on edge, he was going to wait. As much as this was about Tony being with them, this was also about Clint and Phil finding a new way to connect.

“Prep him faster,” Clint finally muttered. “I’m sure he can take it.”

Phil gave him an amused look, moving his fingers at a brisker pace. Tony groaned and lowered his face between his arms, forearms landing against the bed, leaving his back arching. “I think we’re done,” the man mumbled.

“Sure you can hold your load until we’re ready?” Clint asked, moving towards Tony’s head.

The brunette looked up, scowling at him, then raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. “Give me one of the condoms.”

Clint blinked, frowned, then did as he was told. Tony took it from him, opened the wrapper, then seemed to wait for something. “What?” Clint asked.

“Come here,” Tony ordered, then did something Phil couldn’t quite see – something that made Clint step over quickly, just in time as Tony raised himself back up, kneeling on the bed. His hands reached for Clint’s cock – and then he slid his mouth down over it. Phil opened his mouth to protest, because they had a plan, which included certain simple safety measures. In the next second he realized what was going on as Clint let out an awed chuckle and Tony drew back – leaving Clint’s cock covered with the condom.

“Neat,” Clint told him as Tony’s fingers smoothed the condom in place – not that it needed much of that.

“A fun party trick. It’s usually wasted on girls, but after too many drinks they liked me showing off on… well, anything that wasn’t an actual dick,” Tony boasted and licked his lips, looking over at Phil. “Flavored condoms. You’re a surprising man, Agent.”

“Thought you might appreciate it.”

“I don’t usually go with fruity flavors, but it will do.”

“What would you have preferred? Vanilla?” Clint asked

“Mint, actually,” Tony shrugged one shoulder, settling his hands back down on the bed. “Are we almost done talking?”

“Yeah,” Phil decided, pushing his fingers in once more to caress over Tony’s prostate, making him shiver a little, then drew back his hand. Out of nowhere, Clint threw him a towel – when the man had gone to fetch one, he didn’t know. After cleaning off his fingers, Phil reached for another one of the condoms and opened it, sliding it on carefully. He had extras, but there was no need to rush this part.

Against the bed, Tony’s right leg twitched, toes curling and uncurling expectantly. Phil got into a better position behind him and briefly ran his hand along the bottom of Tony’s restless foot – making the other man jump. “If you need me to go slower, let me know,” he said.

“What I need you to do is start,” Tony replied smartly. Phil locked eyes with Clint briefly, then took his cock in hand, as firmly as possible with the lube and latex, and pulled Tony’s left ass-cheek to the side with the other. He heard Tony’s tiny exhalation as he pressed against the slick hole, thought he felt a tiny hint of tension before continuing to push and eventually slipping inside.

“How’s that feel?” Clint asked, and Phil looked up from his utter concentration to find that Clint had positioned himself in front of Tony, eyes alternating between Phil’s entry and trying to catch a glimpse of Tony’s face. Clearly the question was not meant for Phil, either, because Clint reached to tug on Tony’s hair.

“I’ve taken bigger,” Tony murmured.

“Size doesn’t always count,” Phil shushed him and continued to push, then halted and drew back, jerking back and forth, gaining new depth bit by bit as Tony’s body relaxed into it. Despite his claims, Tony wasn’t acting like someone who could just flip a switch and take this – but he wasn’t protesting either, and it was clear he hadn’t lied when he said he liked sex.

“You ready to fill your end of the bargain, bird-brain?” Tony challenged after a few proper thrusts from Phil. He raised his head defiantly and Phil could just imagine how he was sizing Clint up.

“Oh yeah,” Clint boasted right back, seizing the back of Tony’s head with one hand and guiding his cock to his mouth with the other. Phil was tempted to tell them this wasn’t a race or a contest, and that pride had no place on this bed, but he knew it would be a lost cause until both men got most of it out of their systems. The way Tony took Clint’s cock and the archer tried not to be impressed was almost amusing, and Phil turned his thrusts into small jabs, almost as good as watching Clint and Tony fight over dominance and finally fall into some kind of mutually pleasurable arrangement as Clint shifted his hips and Tony met him half-way.

Settling his hands onto Tony’s hips, Phil caressed his skin as he continued to move in small circles, knowing when he brushed against Tony’s prostate every now and then, the push and pull stimulating them both while he tried not to jar Tony forward too much.

“You’re holding back,” Clint finally stated. His left hand was still in Tony’s hair, holding on with a lax grip instead of guiding him on his length. His right hand had wandered down, playing with his balls as Tony’s mouth caressed his shaft in an even rhythm.

“Enjoying the view,” Phil replied. “Is he good?”

Clint didn’t reply audibly, but he nodded and then bit his lower lip as Tony’s head came up, lips still wrapped around the head of his cock. He had to be doing something pleasurable, and Phil thrust in a bit harder at the sight of bliss on Clint’s face.

“‘He’ feels like he’s doing all the work,” Tony mused after a second, voice catching a bit. His hips shifted backwards against Phil, then wriggled, muscles tensing around Phil’s cock. “How about you make me feel more like a buffer for a bit, yeah?” Tony requested.

Phil met Clint’s eyes. The archer nodded, lifting his right hand to join the other in Tony’s hair. “You asked for it, Stark,” he mused, then pushed his hips forward, making Tony take him all the way.

Tony let out an obscene groan – for the show, clearly – but when Phil decided to give him the first, quick thrust, Tony didn’t sound nearly as much in control. Phil’s fingers tightened on his hips as he moved into him, the friction, heat and grip of his body delicious, each movement driving Tony down on Clint’s cock as the other man jerked his hips up. Through it all, Phil kept watch, noting every tightening of Tony’s fingers on the bedspread and every noise he made, voluntary or involuntary. Much as he and Clint liked this, Tony was a human being and not just some toy tossed between them for mutual pleasure.

- - -

Tony wasn’t going to say he was ‘overwhelmed’ when Coulson and Barton finally got to the main act, but the longer it went on, the harder it was to maintain control. Opening his throat for Barton’s cock and allowing Coulson to tug his hips back onto his dick was so much easier, and all Tony needed to keep a check on was that he didn’t get too excited.

They teased the edge of danger when Barton decided to ram his cock a bit too deep and keep it there. Tony couldn’t breathe around him and Coulson was still thrusting into him, relentlessly, and a small shiver of anxiousness cut through Tony’s body.

“Let him up,” Coulson ordered after a couple heartbeats, and Barton did, drawing his cock all the way from Tony’s mouth.

“I’m good,” Tony managed to say as he steadied his breathing.

Instead of taking his word for it, Coulson stopped as well. “Do you need me to pull out?” he asked.

“No!” Tony snapped. “Why the fuck would I need that?”

“Your body is starting to burn up around me,” Coulson said – not afraid, not nervous, but with certain alarm in his voice.

“Oh.” Tony took a deep breath and cleared his throat, trying to get it back under control. “Sorry. This is actually my first time since…” Since he had his arc reactor removed and Extremis injected into his body to patch the giant hole in his chest – and to keep him alive, hopefully for the foreseeable future. “I’m good,” he finally said, feeling a bit more centered.

Coulson shifted and for a moment Tony thought he really was going to pull out.

“I don’t need you to –”

“Move back,” Coulson said softly, urging Tony to lower his hips until he practically sat in the agent’s lap while the older man knelt on the bed. Tony shifted his legs, spreading them on the outside of Coulson’s, then looked expectantly at Barton. The archer wasn’t looking at him but at Coulson, relaying some wordless message.

Impatiently, Tony reached for Barton’s thigh, eyes on his firm and nicely curved cock; it had caressed the roof of his mouth most pleasurably when he took just half of it inside, and Tony was looking forward to getting back to it.

Barton took a step forward, propping his left foot on the bed. His right hand was stroking himself while the left was rolling his balls on his palm and fingers. Two could play that game, he decided; Tony leaned in and sneaked his tongue between Barton’s fingers. The digits moved and allowed him in, and Tony took one of the balls in his mouth and tugged, hinting that the other man should get closer.

“Fuck,” Barton murmured, but not in a bad way. “Do that again.”

Coulson chuckled and started moving again, grinding up into Tony in a rather pleasant way. His cock was a good size inside him, and the man definitely knew how to move it without moving much at all. Tony tried shifting along with him and found Coulson’s hands on his hips again, controlling him, finding them a good rhythm. Tony was glad for the directions because most of his attention was on Barton and all the ways he could make him utter those throaty sounds as Tony teased his balls, licked and sucked on his scrotum and even snaked his tongue to tease his perineum for a few seconds before drawing back. Barton was stroking his cock, fingers sweeping across the top of Tony’s forehead every once in a while.

It was comfortable, now that the tension had passed, and Tony felt himself relax and take it all in, enjoying the simple movements of Coulson’s hips, the steady yet gentle hold of his hands – and the sudden kisses against Tony’s back.

Barton was another thing entirely, vibrant and tense like a cord bound too tight, ready to release. Tony wished, suddenly, that the man could release his load all over his face; he bet Barton came hard and fast, just like he released one of his arrows, with impeccable aim. His mouth moved up, drawing Barton’s balls along until he had to release them in favor of mouthing the underside of his cock. He traveled up, trying to ignore the sensation of the condom, then smiled briefly as Barton’s fingers moved to let him gain access to the head and guided his cock into Tony’s waiting mouth. Barton went slow and deep, holding for a second before moving back, finding just the right amount of time before Tony couldn’t take it anymore.

Their combined pace was almost like lazy waves of water after a windy day, lapping back and forth. Tony wanted to fully immerse himself in it and his usually active mind drifted out of focus a little, eyes shut, breaths even, different pleasures at both ends; he had always liked giving pleasure almost as much as receiving it, and Barton easily let him know he liked Tony’s efforts. And Coulson… his lips were painting patterns on Tony’s shoulder now, his hips still moving, hands still guiding Tony to meet his thrusts.

Tony sensed movement a while later and opened his eyes long enough to see that Barton had moved his left hand to caress Coulson’s scalp where he was sucking a mark on Tony’s skin, slowly and thoroughly.

“Phil,” Barton whispered. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Just a bit longer,” Coulson urged, pace never faltering. “I’m almost there with you.”

It occurred to Tony perhaps he should start paying attention to his own cock, too. He didn’t want to be left behind. He reached for it, his next breath catching a bit at the sensation – then one of Coulson’s hands moved to grip his and pulled it away.

“Wait,” Coulson murmured in Tony’s ear, leaving his shoulder. “We’ll take care of it soon.”

Tony nodded, a bit numbly, then focused as Barton’s thrusts changed pace, more purposeful. Eventually he drew back, jerking himself, and Tony went for his balls again, which were drawing up, just as taut as the rest of him. Tony wanted to lick him all over, every muscle, and sink his teeth in them. He opted to sink his teeth into his scrotum instead, and Barton’s free hand shot into his hair, gripping tight.

“Wait,” he ordered Tony. “Do that again when Phil starts to come.”

So Barton liked a little pain with his pleasure. Tony filed that information away and continued suckling on his balls and every bit of skin he could tug between his lips.

Coulson didn’t take long; his movements got more purposeful, fingers tighter, possibly leaving bruises, and when Tony was fairly certain the agent was getting there, he bit down on Barton’s skin again, signaling him.

Barton’s hand flew over his cock and then jerked just the head, his climax sharp and fast. Tony relented and drew back, just as Coulson panted and stopped moving. It was a shame how quiet both these men were, as if they were still hiding.

Coulson drew back as Barton took a step to the side and tugged off the condom, sending it flying towards a trash can.

“That went better than expected,” Coulson noted.

“No need to sound so smug,” Barton teased, then came over, got onto the bed and seized Coulson’s face in his hands, kissing him with passion. Tony leaned out of the way, feeling like a clunky third wheel. He knew certain promises had been made, not so long ago, but he understood if he was no longer needed. Just because he felt a bit bad about being discarded like a dirty sock didn’t warrant him overstaying his welcome.

- - -

Clint drew back from the kiss with a satisfied hum. Phil looked a bit winded, sweat on his brow – but he also looked determined. Clint nodded, getting the message, then looked to the side at Stark. He probably should start thinking of him as ‘Tony’, and not just the guy he worked with occasionally to save the world.

Stark had drawn back a bit during their kiss – not enough to leave the bed but appearing to debate an exit strategy.

“We’re not done with you yet,” Clint promised, then reached out and seized one of Stark’s legs, tugging him down on the bed, leaving him in a half-sprawled position. Clint kept his grip where it was on the man’s ankle, and with his free hand he reached for the only hard cock in the room, noting how much warmer it seemed compared to the skin his other hand was holding.

Stark’s hips twitched up towards the touch, a moan caught in his throat. His eyes were alert, expression a bit conflicted, but it softened considerably when Phil’s hands mimicked Clint’s: one hand settling on Stark’s knee, the other going for his cock to stroke it with Clint.

It was clumsy at first, their fingers bumping together, but it was also damn hot and Stark laid his head back, eyes closed, then threw up his arms, chest heaving – a chest free of scars and an arc reactor, which Clint had barely gotten to glimpse during their time as Avengers, but which he had seen depicted in a few S.H.I.E.L.D. files. He was tempted to reach up and touch the skin, but decided it had to wait for another time.

Stark’s legs twitched after a few minutes and his breaths got steadily noisier, and finally Phil focused on rubbing his thumb continuously across the head of Stark’s cock while Clint tightened his grip and worked the shaft. Together, they brought Stark to his release, and Clint got a taste of what Phil must have felt earlier as a wave of intense heat washed over Stark’s entire body before disappearing again as his orgasm faded. It was a very appropriate grand finale to the whole thing.

Phil reached out for the towel he had used earlier and wiped cum from his fingers – then offered it to Clint to do the same with the few splashes that had ended up on his skin. Stark laid like a boneless mass between them, breaths slowing down fractionally.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Clint decided.

Stark finally moved his arms from his face to spread them above him – or, as the bed was rather cramped with the three of them, his arms ended up hanging over the side of the bed. “You’re kidding, right?” Stark asked.

“I think it went rather well,” Phil agreed. “Everyone got through it unscathed.”

Stark rolled his eyes. “You’re so lame, both of you.”

“What would you call this, then?” Clint challenged him.

Stark offered him a grin. “I would call it for what it was: fucking awesome.” He hesitated momentarily. “We should do it again, sometime.” He tried not to sound hopeful, but Phil had sort of hinted at that, earlier…

Clint shrugged like he didn’t care either way – then dropped the act and looked at both men. “Next time, I get to take his ass.”

Phil just hummed in a way that may have been a ‘yes’.

Stark gave him a sharp look. “Were you disappointed?”

“I think it’s fair I get to sample both alternatives before declaring which I like best.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“We need to clean up,” Phil interrupted them.

“Don’t ruin the mood,” Clint and Stark said in the same breath.

“I need to get going,” Phil protested and got up, heading for the small bathroom.

Clint looked after him, feeling his mood deflate a little. Stark followed his gaze, head upside-down to see Phil enter the bathroom, then the dark eyes were back on Clint. “What’s up with him?”

“New team; new mission,” Clint grumbled.

“Figures,” Stark huffed.

“We’ll be seeing him around,” Clint told him, although it sounded a lot like wishful thinking.

“I’m sure we will,” Stark agreed with him.

Clint supposed that not seeing Phil so often might actually be more bearable when Stark shared his feelings on the matter, more or less.

“We could always tease him to come back if he gets too involved with whatever he’s doing,” Stark mused.

“Like how?” Clint asked.

Stark gave him a shameless grin. “Have you ever made a sex tape?”

Clint hadn’t, but he could see how Tony Stark might eventually talk him into making one – for the sole purpose of getting Phil Coulson hot under the collar.





The End




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