FIC: "The Sixth of July," Avengers, Foursome, 3/3
(previous part here)
Chapter 3: Proof Through the Night
Two weeks pass. Clint doesn't think that Steve and Tony are avoiding him and Phil -- they still smile when they run into each other in the common areas, chat over breakfast -- but they don't initiate anything either. Meanwhile, the heat wave pulls back for a few days of cool breezes, then redoubles its efforts, drenching the city in a simmering haze. The news anchors make jokes about the Avengers battling global warming, but at least the real supervillains seem to be staying indoors. Clint goes on mission to Argentina, a milk run that they send him on because he's got nothing better to do, and he'd pulled a few strings to get sent somewhere chilly.
When Clint gets back, it's midday and the Tower is quiet. JARVIS informs him that Phil, Steve, and Natasha are at a strategic planning meeting (translation: boring and non-essential) on the Helicarrier, while Tony and Bruce are in their respective workshops. Clint drinks a beer and scans through his e-mail, but he's feeling itchy, starved for human contact, so he makes two sandwiches and heads down to Tony's lab.
"Oh good, you brought breakfast," Tony says when Clint steps in.
Clint rolls his eyes, but hands the sandwich over anyway. "Had fun with the mad science while I was gone?"
"Oh yeah, baby." Tony's smile is wide, a little manic, and Clint wonders just how much sleep the man's been getting. "Bruce got me thinking about the potential applications of a fullerene sheath for the suit -- with the right configuration of nanotubes, we can enhance durability while absorbing and storing photovoltaic energy. I'd be Superman."
Clint takes a bite of his own sandwich. He shouldn't find Tony's enthusiasm so cute. "I have no idea what you just said, but I'm happy for you?"
"Yeah, sorry, Steve and Pepper keep telling me that I have Bruce around to appreciate my brilliance properly, so I shouldn't try to impress other people by giving actual information about what I do. What can I do for you?"
"Nothing, really, just looking for company." Clint shrugs, then remembers a thought he'd had in Argentina and flagged in his mind for later. "But now that I'm here, I was wondering something. Is it true that Steve was literally born on the fourth of July?"
"If his Army enlistment papers are telling the truth. I asked him once, and he just cocked his head and said, 'If I were going to fake my birthdate, would I pick something that obvious?' But I'm pretty sure that Steve's secretly trolling us half the time, so who knows."
"Fair enough. So are you going to be doing anything special?"
"Doing anything special for -- crap." Tony's face suddenly goes pale. "JARVIS, what's today's date?"
"July 2nd, sir."
"Oh, good," Tony exhales in relief. "I thought it might've been tonight or something. Yeah, I'll figure out something nice for him."
"We could do a joint thing for him and Phil," Clint says. When Tony tilts his head inquisitively, he supplies, "Phil's birthday is the eighth."
"Wait, Agent has a birthday? Or do you mean that's the day he emerged from his factory?" Clint narrows his eyes. "Kidding. Really. Anyway, as much as I'd love an occasion for drinking and scantily clad guests, neither of them seems like the party type."
"That was ... actually almost thoughtful. I'm impressed."
"Because you're the model of polite tact yourself?"
"Okay, can't really argue that one," Clint grins. "What about a smaller kind of party, if you know what I mean?"
Tony leans back against his workbench, eyes crinkled with wicked amusement. "You're going to have to spell it out for me, since I'm pretty sure that 'have sex with Captain America' is more like a daily job perk than an annual sacrifice for me."
"Didn't say it would be with you. I mean, you'll be there, and so will I, but I'm guessing they'd both be happy to get a nudge in each other's direction." A pleasant thought shivers through Clint. "And I'm pretty sure that Phil would really enjoy tying me up and making me watch him and Steve fucking. You too, if you're into it."
"I'm liking this idea more and more. Set everything up, push them at each other, and put ourselves at their mercy?"
"Yeah, you and me together would basically be the best birthday present ever."
Tony laughs. "You're almost as modest as me. I like it. When are you thinking?"
"Split the difference?" Clint offers. "Steve's the fourth, Phil's the eighth, so we'll plan for July sixth?"
"It's a date." Hammering out all the details, limits, and preferences takes some time, and it doesn't help that Clint's brain is busy supplying him with mental images of everything the night might involve. He can't wait.
&&&&
After being convinced that no, Steve would not want a fireworks show in his honor, Tony's spending the holiday treating him to a Fourth of July picnic on Tony's yacht, then watching the Macy's fireworks from a prime spot on the Hudson itself. Clint and Phil are watching from their bedroom; the outside view's still pretty spectacular through the windows, and the view inside the room is even better, in Clint's completely biased opinion.
When Clint tells Phil about Tony's plan for Steve's birthday, Phil raises an eyebrow. "That's impressively low-key for Tony."
"Looks like Captain America's been rubbing off on him," Clint can't resist saying.
"That was terrible."
"Whatever. You love me because I say out loud the terrible jokes that you're already thinking."
Phil places a kiss on Clint's forehead. "Among other things." Then they're too busy kissing lazily to talk for a few minutes.
Eventually, Phil props his head up on one elbow. "So should I be worried about what you're planning for the sixth?"
Clint doesn't bother asking how Phil knows, because Phil knows everything. "You'll love it," he says.
"I wasn't actually talking about myself."
"Oh." Clint lets himself think for a few minutes before he answers, knowing Phil won't hurry this conversation. "Nah. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about it until it actually happened, that time in the dark, but that was ... good. Really good. I guess I just needed to know that even if you could have him, you'd still want me."
"I did, and I do, and I will." Phil doesn't say always -- but maybe he doesn't have to.
The words hang between them, and Clint feels them soak in and take root as the sky outside dazzles with red, white, and blue. He lets himself enjoy the moment, and then he lets himself break it. "Besides, you two were fucking hot together."
Phil shakes his head, a smile crinkling his eyes, and tackles Clint to the mattress with a wrestler's hold and a hard, dirty kiss.
&&&&
The evening of July 6th starts with dinner at Hassan's Shawarma Palace, because Phil was busy lying in an ICU the first time they went, and they haven't had a chance to go back. Tony's bought the place out for the night, so they don't have to worry about paparazzi, and a particularly large tip helped convince Hassan to overlook the pitchers of sangria from Pampano Botaneria. Clint knows that Phil suspects what's planned for later, but he doesn't say anything; they just enjoy a relaxed dinner and gossip about the Fantastic Four.
(Tony thinks that Reed Richards has a thing for Johnny Storm. Clint and Phil just exchange a look; when Tony asks them why, Clint explains that it's not very shocking that Tony believes an arrogant engineering genius would be attracted to a Steve look-alike. Tony narrows his eyes, and Steve just laughs.)
The sangria isn't very strong, just enough to relax everyone, and it tastes of summer and shared laughter. By the time they head back to the Tower, Phil's suppressing his smiles less, and Tony's eyes burn dark when they linger over Steve's body. Clint's happy in a way that he doesn't recognize, a diffuse, safe joy. He supposes that this is what family feels like.
Clint and Tony had decided on Tony's bedroom, since he's got the ridiculous California King, and they take the private elevator straight to his suite. Before stepping into the bedroom, Tony stops and turns to Steve and Phil. "Clint and I decided to plan a little something for your birthdays."
"God help us," Phil says sotto voce. Tony ignores him.
"Here's the plan. You two have been eyefucking each other without doing anything about it, and our gift is to help you get over yourselves. Erotic facilitators, if you will. Not that either of us would say no to joining in."
"If that's what you want," Clint adds, wondering how he got stuck as the voice of reason. "No pressure or expectations, if you don't want to do this."
Phil's face is -- adorable, really. He's stuck somewhere between "unflappable, mature adult" and "fanboy exploding with excitement," and the mixture of the two seems to involve twitchiness and a grin he can't tamp down. He glances over to Steve, who (for once) is the more unflappable of the two, wearing a calm smile.
"I'm in if you are," Steve says.
"I." Phil swallows. "Yes."
"Great! All right, everybody this way." Tony leads them into the bedroom; it's Clint's first time there, but somehow the clean, modern lines look exactly like he imagined. A desk near the bed is loaded with supplies: lube and condoms, unsurprisingly, but also coils of rope, a selection of dildos and butt plugs, latex gloves, and a couple of adjustable cock rings. Nothing on the kinky-pain-causing side of things, which Clint figures is probably wise until they've had more extensive conversations.
"Impressive," Phil says, in a voice that sounds more amused than impressed.
"Of course it is; this is me," Tony smirks. "So go on, you crazy kids. I know you've thought about this before."
Phil and Steve exchange a look. Tony already told Clint, back when they planned this, that Steve liked to take charge in the bedroom, and Clint thinks Phil’s reading the same thing in the tranquil control that Steve radiates. "You take point, and I'll provide support and back-up?" Phil asks.
"Only you, Phil," Steve says, and he softens it with a fond smile. "Come here." Steve steps toward Phil, tips Phil's head back with his palm, and kisses him thoroughly. With every second of the kiss, Clint can see Phil's shoulders relaxing, his body becoming more fluid and responsive.
Eventually Steve pulls his lips away. "I have some ideas on what to do with you, and I bet you do too, but what do we want to do with them?" He tilts his head toward Tony and Clint.
Phil looks consideringly at Clint. "My hawk always says he sees best at a distance. Tony, bring over that chair and tie him to it, wrists and ankles."
"You are a bastard," Clint says, entirely approvingly. "Want me dressed or undressed?"
"Just like that, I think. For now." Clint shivers, then sits down in the chair that Tony's brought over -- close enough to see everything, but too far to touch. Tony kneels in front of him to tie Clint's wrists to the chair arms and his ankles to the chair's front legs. The ropes are silky-soft and thick; by the time Tony's tugged the last knot tight, Clint thinks that he might be able to get free with sufficient time or sharp implements, but not without effort.
"They look good like that," Steve says. "Tony, stay there. Remember what you told me happened in the kitchen, a few weeks ago? This time, I want to watch you doing it."
"Yes, sir," Tony murmurs, just too soft to be entirely flippant. He looks up at Clint from between his spread legs, all touseled black hair and coy gaze.
"You heard him," Clint prods.
Tony doesn't respond verbally, just nuzzles Clint's denim-clad dick. He reaches up and undoes Clint's jeans, sliding down his boxers until the elastic cups Clint's balls, then dives in with enthusiasm, sucking and licking at Clint's cock like it's Christmas in July. It's like last time, except it's not like it at all, because Clint tries to put his hand on Tony's head and he can't, he can't do anything but grip the chair and buck his hips up into Tony's mouth.
Clint pulls his gaze up from Tony's lips to see what Steve and Phil are doing. Steve's laid out on the bed, eyes fixed on Clint and Tony; Phil lies next to him. Phil caresses Steve’s clothed body slowly, reverently, planting kisses on the patch of skin between hair and collar, but he looks back at Clint and gives him a reassuring nod.
As if he notices that Clint's attention is wandering, Tony boosts his efforts, working over Clint in wet, tight spirals. Clint's rock hard, already close, when Steve says, "Stop, Tony. You're doing well, and I don't want him to finish yet. Come over here."
Clint can't stop the whine of protest from leaving his throat, but Phil just raises one eyebrow: tough luck, but no. So Tony leaves him like that, cock slick and bobbing in the air, legs splayed open and tied in place, and Clint's pretty sure that he's never been this turned on in his life.
"Thanks," Steve says to Tony. "You can wait right there for now. Touch yourself if you want, but don't come yet. I'll tell you when I want to use you further." Then he turns to Phil, and his voice still has a Captain America tenor, but with an added note of shy hesitance. "I'd like to watch you undress."
Phil's eyes widen, as if he honestly didn't expect to be asked that, but he begins to unbutton his shirt. A few buttons down, he hesitates. "Before you say anything, I was young at the time." (Clint doesn't say "I already warned them that I'd murder them if they laughed," because he figures that Phil would only find that more embarrassing.)
"Go on," Steve says. In his peripheral vision, Clint can see Tony stroking his own cock, light and casual, as the two of them watch the main action.
After a pause, Phil keeps unbuttoning, then pulls the shirt off. He's wearing a sleeveless undershirt, thin and low-necked enough that everyone can see the round Captain America shield tattooed on Phil's chest. It's small, maybe three inches across, and it rests directly above Phil's heart. A jagged scar, pink with age but still puckered, rips through the shield like a bolt of lightning.
The sight of it still makes Clint's breath catch sometimes. He can't imagine what Steve and Tony must be thinking.
Steve just moves over to crouch before Phil, tugging off the undershirt, and he places a kiss on the scar, right where it bisects the center of the shield. Then his lips part, and his tongue begins to lave over the tattoo, tracing its curves with open-mouthed kisses. Clint knows from experience that the healed skin is a sensory minefield; some patches are numb, but others feel every sensation twice as sharply. Judging by Phil's quick gasps, Steve's finding every one of those places.
While Steve continues to press kisses to Phil's chest, his hands undo Phil's pants and slide them off, along with his briefs. Phil already toed off his shoes and socks, so he's lying next to Steve, naked and perfect, clearly too lost in the sensation of Steve's tongue to feel the slightest shame. Steve grasps Phil's cock loosely, just holding it for a moment, and Phil lets loose a wordless groan.
"Can I --" Phil starts, clearly fighting for self-control. "Can I return the favor?"
"I'd like that," Steve says.
Phil doesn't kiss Steve while he's undressing him. He doesn't say anything. He just begins by unbuttoning Steve's shirt -- plaid and old-fashioned and perfectly him -- button by methodical button, his eyes drinking in every inch of skin. Phil's memorizing this, Clint realizes: mapping the fantasies of his adolescence to concrete reality. From the look of awe on Phil's face, reality's even better than he had imagined.
Steve's clearly reading the same thoughts in Phil's face, and maybe this moment is when Clint starts to love him, because Steve's expression is tender, respectful, and just as awed -- as if he doesn't know why he's receiving this worship, but he'll do anything to live up to it. When Phil finishes unbuttoning Steve's shirt, Steve pulls him in for a gentle kiss.
Whatever Steve tastes in that kiss, it makes him shudder; Clint sees his hands move impatiently to his belt buckle, then stop when Phil gives him a chastening look. Then Phil continues his patient exploration: unbuckles the belt and pulls off Steve's undershirt, eyes tracing every contour of Steve's (admittedly stunning) musculature. Phil pauses his divestment, tracing one finger around Steve's pectorals, and murmurs, "Wow."
(Tony's still on his knees, lazily jacking himself off. When Clint spares a glance for him, he's wearing an expression of, "fuck yeah, I win at life." Looking at that landscape of smooth, golden skin, those tight nipples and broad shoulders, Clint can see Tony's point.)
Phil slides off Steve's pants and underwear with appropriate veneration, and then they're both nude -- Steve on his back, propped up on elbows, and Phil crouched above him -- and both erect.
"Anything particular we should put on the agenda?" Steve asks, and Phil gives him a shaky laugh.
"How good is your refraction period?"
Steve grins in return. "Good enough."
"In that case, I'd -- I'd really like it if you'd fuck me, eventually. But for now, can I taste you?"
"Absolutely," Steve says, but then he gets a speculative look. "Tony. While Phil's doing that, I could use your help getting him nice and open. Fingers if you prefer, but I bet we could make him fall apart even faster if you eat him out."
"On it," Tony says, voice low and eager. He grabs a bottle of lube and a glove, then climbs onto the bed.
Phil's shifting his position down Steve's body, pausing along the way to lick at Steve's nipples and leave them hard and gleaming-wet. Clint's never seen Steve naked before, and as Phil's mouth slides down past Steve's stomach, it confirms what he'd suspected: below his head, Steve's completely and beautifully hairless. On his chest, it makes him look surreally angelic; at his groin, with his cock jutting out obscenely long and rosy from bare flesh, he looks more like a filthy porn star.
(Clint's so hard himself that he can feel his body thrumming like a taut bowstring, and the fact that he can't even touch his own dick is excruciating. He wonders whether he can come untouched; it's never happened before, but the way things are going, he wouldn't be surprised.)
Then Phil finally reaches Steve's cock, and he just sinks his head down, takes it in all the way, and swallows eagerly with his eyes shut, as if in prayer. Clint's pretty sure that he's actually nuzzling Steve's thigh with his cheek, while Steve's genuinely trembling from the effort of keeping his body in check. Phil slides back up, then begins to caress Steve's cock with his tongue, drawing long, teasing lines up and down the hard length. When he gets to the head, he swirls his tongue around it like a lollipop, then flutters against the underside. Clint knows these movements, has enjoyed them himself in the past, but seeing them on Steve helps him appreciate the sheer enthusiasm that Phil has for cocksucking, the way he smiles around the shaft between his lips.
Clint had almost forgotten about Tony when Phil suddenly jerks and groans loud around Steve's dick. He shifts his attention back down the bed, and yeah, Tony's lapping at Phil's ass with his tongue, sliding it up and down Phil's crack and circling delicately around Phil's hole, coy and filthy all at once. Meanwhile, Phil's resumed sucking Steve off, but he's less restrained now, practically fucking his mouth on Steve's dick. Steve responds to the increasing pace, letting his hips buck upward and thrust deep into Phil's throat, and his hands loosely cup the back of Phil's head.
Tony pulls back -- God, the sight of Phil's ass pink and damp and beard-burned -- and returns with lube-slick fingers, sliding a single finger into Phil's hole, then curving it to make Phil practically scream around Steve's dick. And that's it -- the vibration and urgency, or maybe just the sight of Phil undone with desire -- and Steve's gasping, "Phil, I'm going to --", and Phil just sucks harder until Steve's shuddering beneath him with jerky movements, and then he swallows it all down.
When Phil lifts his head up, there's a small trickle of Steve's cum sliding down from the corner of his mouth; Phil gasps a few breaths, throat raspy, and licks his lips clean. Clint thinks he might be about to die from sheer arousal.
Phil starts to move out of the way, but Steve reaches up and tugs him back down; one exquisitely muscled arm holds each of Phil's arms in place. "Keep going, Tony," Steve says. "Get him nice and loose for me."
Clint knows that Phil's never liked being restrained, but this looks more like he's keeping Phil secure for Tony to lick and finger-fuck, suspended above Steve's sweat-damp body, and that is something that Phil seems to enjoy thoroughly. Tony adds a second slick finger into Phil's ass, then bends down and begins to lick around the rim; the touch of his tongue to taut, hot skin has Phil's knees nearly buckling, while unvoiced expletives animate his lips. Tony just keeps sliding his fingers in and out, pushing deep enough to tease at Phil's prostate, while his tongue strokes and moistens around the edge. Phil's cock is still hanging free between his legs, rock-hard and gleaming at the tip with pre-cum, and god, Clint wishes he could taste it right now.
One more finger and a thrust inward, and Phil arches his back shamelessly and gasps, "-- stop." Immediately, Steve releases his hold on Phil's arms, and Tony pulls away from his ass. Phil breathes, in and out, then says, "That's good. Really good. But I don't have super-soldier stamina, and I don't want to come until Steve's inside me. I'm ready."
Steve looks at him carefully and glances down at his own (not inconsiderable) girth. "I don't want to hurt you."
Phil meets his gaze firmly. "I'll be fine."
"No offense," Tony says, "but I think your judgment might be a little compromised right now. Want me to get the cock ring, Cap?"
"I like that plan better," Steve nods. "One of the, uh, toys, too. Something medium-sized."
"Fantastic," Tony says with approval. (As he passes by Clint's chair, Tony skates his fingertips over Clint's clothed inner thighs, carefully avoiding actual contact with his cock. "Bastard," Clint grits out, and Tony just grins and winks.) By the time he's returned from the table, holding a black cock ring and a pale, realistically-sculpted silicone dildo, Steve's flipped Phil onto his back and positioned a pillow beneath his hips.
"Want to do the honors?" Tony asks. Steve does, and he fastens the cock ring on Phil, who's lying back with a half-dazed look on his face. (It's a good look on him, Clint thinks.) Then Tony slicks up the dildo and begins to work it into Phil's ass, slow and easy, while Phil pulls his knees toward his chest to ease the way. Steve, meanwhile, lies on his side next to Phil, stroking his chest and brushing his thumb over Phil's nipples. When Steve's mouth latches onto Phil's neck and bites down, Phil lets out an inchoate groan.
"Clint," Phil pants, "talk to me." Clint realizes that this is like the inverse of all their ops together: Phil needs his voice to ground and stabilize him, let him know which way is up.
"You're so damn gorgeous like this, Phil," Clint says. "Love seeing you spread open, watching your ass get filled up so tight. God, seeing you like that with Steve Rogers, marking you up, it's like all those fantasies you shared with me. Love the way your body responds to his, the way your nipples harden at his touch, the way your stomach goes tight at his fingertips. And Jesus, your cock is beautiful, so hard I can see every vein, wrapped up in a bow until you're ready for Steve to make you come. Tony, angle that up a bit, so you're just grazing over his prostate -- yeah, like that, Phil, I love hearing you moan."
By now, Tony's pumping the dildo in and out of Phil's ass with long, full strokes, and Clint can see the way that the toy's bulbous head stretches Phil's rim every time, half catching and making his legs jerk with overwhelming sensation. "Almost there, Phil," Steve says, and then he straddles Phil's chest. "Want to get me nice and wet?"
Phil nods, too far gone for words, and Steve leans forward and feeds his cock into Phil's mouth. Clint remembers belatedly that he's still supposed to be talking. "Fuck, Phil, this has to be the hottest thing I've ever seen -- Tony fucking your ass open with a toy while Captain America presses you into the mattress and rides your face. I'm so turned on for you, babe, leaking all over my jeans. Driving me crazy."
"Seriously, Steve, I'm pretty sure that if you don't fuck him soon, Phil's dick might fall off," Tony interjects.
Steve glances back at Tony and casts him a grin. "Wouldn't want that to happen." He slides his cock back from Phil's lips, gives them a soft kiss, and goes down to take Tony's place.
"Anything I can do?" Tony asks. He's left the dildo half-buried in Phil's hole, and Clint dazedly watches it slide outward of its own volition, slick and excruciatingly slow.
Phil speaks up, voice ragged. "You could jerk yourself off while you watch, then come onto Clint's face. He likes it when he gets all messy and marked-up." (It's true, even if Clint always feels a little ashamed to ask for it.)
"So not a hardship," Tony grins. He scoots to the edge of the bed, sprawls with his legs wide, and goes back to stroking his own cock. He'd pulled off his pants some time back, but he's still clothed from the waist up, which makes the sight perversely more obscene.
After giving Tony an appreciative once-over, Steve turns back to the pornographic sight in front of him. Phil's sweaty and breathing swiftly -- lips swollen from cocksucking, chest and neck scattered with red bite marks, cock full and dark above its leather band, legs held up and splayed open to put his ass on display. Steve pulls the dildo out, leaving a shiny dribble of lube in its wake, unrolls a condom onto himself, and positions the head of his cock at Phil's ass. Smoothly and without hesitation, he sinks into Phil's body.
Clint can see Phil stretching and filling to accommodate Steve, but just as beautiful is the way that Phil's eyes are rolled back, mouth open in a voiceless cry that's somehow also a smile. This is it -- this, Phil told him once, was the adolescent fantasy that convinced him he was gay -- and Steve's thrusting balls-deep into Phil with an affectionate crinkle to his eyes, something that says I want to be here even more strongly than the aroused tremble of his limbs.
Steve's thighs are a fucking marvel of human achievement, Clint thinks, watching them flex and stretch as Steve pistons into Phil, and Steve's ass is almost as miraculous. He can see Tony's eyes fixed on it, too, hungry and possessive and proud. The room's air is thick with sweat and the scent of cum, and everyone's ragged breathing isn't enough to mask the slippery squelch of Steve's cock penetrating Phil, of Tony's hand bringing himself off, fast and desperate.
Clint isn't sure how long they hover at that altitude, where he's so hard he could cry, but he's too busy drinking in every detail of the scene to complain. All he knows is that eventually Steve grits through his teeth, "I'm getting -- close --"
"Yeah, okay," Phil breathes, and he unstraps his cock ring with one hand. "Feel free -- ah -- feel free to pound me as hard as you want, Steve, I want to feel you when I'm --"
His voice breaks off as Steve redoubles his efforts, thrusting into Phil with a force that has to hurt, but Phil's riding on a cloud of bliss, his head thrown back and utterly undone. He wraps one hand around his rigid cock, gives it the barest handful of strokes, and then he's coming so hard that he arches off the bed, white cum spattering across his chest.
The pressure on Steve's dick, as Phil clenches erratically around a cock that large, has to be incredible, and from the wordless groan that Steve gives and the way his pace quickens even further, he's coming too. They ride out their orgasms to the limit, savoring the final aftershocks, before Steve slumps down next to Steve, pulls out, and disposes of the condom. "That was -- wow. Thank you." Clint's not sure if Steve's thanking Phil for his participation, or himself and Tony for their planning. Doesn't matter, really, because everyone's happy.
Everyone besides his dick, anyway. Now that Phil and Steve are puddled on the bed, his body's reminding him of just how badly Clint's been wanting to come. He tugs fruitlessly at his ropes, then casts a pleading glance at Phil.
"Haven't forgotten about you, babe," Phil says, voice languid and blissed-out. "My turn to watch now. If Tony gives you a hand, can you wait until he paints your face before you come?"
"Think so," Clint says, then adds, "as long as it's soon."
"Patience, young Padawan," Tony smirks, and Clint's about to chew him out for being a geeky asshole when swiftly, gloriously, Tony wraps his free hand around Clint's cock. "God, the look on your face, watching them," Tony says, low and fierce, while he jacks off his cock toward Clint's face. "Next time I'll have to see how long we can keep you on the edge, make you so desperate you're begging to be touched."
Clint should've expected Tony to talk as much as he does, but the words and Tony's slick-pumping hand and the way he's exposed, everyone watching him lose control, threaten to overwhelm him. "Tony, I can't -- I'm gonna --"
"No," Tony says, and removes his hand from Clint's cock to give him a light slap across the face. "Now open your mouth and ask me nicely."
"Fuck you," Clint says, meeting Tony's dark, hungry eyes. "Like you don't want to come onto me, watch me lick your spunk off my face." Clint swipes his tongue over his lips, long and languid, and enjoys the way that Tony's hips jerk toward him in response.
"Tony," Steve says, just that single word, and Tony closes his eyes and smiles and comes all over Clint's face. Some of it drips into Clint's mouth, and he licks it up and smiles prettily at Tony, blinking the thick droplets out of his eyelashes.
"My kingdom for a camera," Tony mutters, still panting as he comes down from his orgasm, but he crouches beside Clint and wraps his hand back around his dick. And finally, finally, Clint can just let go and fly, feel the cum on his face and the sweat trickling down his neck, close his eyes and see after-images of Steve thrusting into Phil relentlessly, enjoy the slick up-and-down of Tony's hand, and god, he's coming, he's coming into Tony's hand so hard and long that the world fades to a starburst of absolute bliss.
Clint doesn't pass out. He doesn't. He just rests his eyes and breathes for a few minutes, vaguely aware of the others moving around him. When he opens them again, Phil's untying him from the chair, hands careful and sure with the knots. As each wrist and ankle is loosened, Phil strokes the skin underneath, easing back sensation where the ropes have left a red-white imprint. Then, once Clint's free, Phil grabs a warm, damp washcloth, wipes Clint's face clean, and cleanses the mess from Clint's softening cock.
After, he leans forward to tilt his forehead against Clint's. "Thank you. That was amazing, and you were amazing. Best birthday present of my life."
Clint just wraps his arms around him, wincing briefly as his muscles adjust to free movement, and holds Phil tight. "You deserve all of it, and more."
For a few moments, they just rest against each other; from the stillness of the room, Clint guesses that Steve and Tony are doing the same. Eventually, Phil presses a kiss to Clint's lips. "If I don't move soon, I may fall asleep on top of you."
"Sleep," Clint smiles, feeling fuzzy and floaty. "That sounds nice."
"C'mon, Barton, get up," Phil says, standing up and offering his arms.
Clint can hear sheets shifting a few feet away. "You don't have to go," Tony says. "Plenty of room on the bed."
Phil meets Clint's eyes, asking a silent question. Clint nods. "I don't mind."
"Roll over, Cap," Tony says, and the two of them shift to the far side of the bed, leaving space for Phil and Clint.
By the time everyone's repositioned and undressed, Steve's lying on his back with a quiet smile on his face, one arm wrapped around Tony, whose head rests on Steve's chest. On Steve's other side, Phil and Clint are spooning -- Phil has a hand resting on Steve's shoulder, maintaining physical contact, while Clint curls up behind him. He breathes in the familiar scent of Phil's shampoo and strokes one hand idly across Phil's chest. Part of him expects to feel strange, sharing the bed with two other people, but Steve and Tony aren't just other people -- they're family, maybe not as safe as Phil, but safe enough for Clint to rest.
"What was that you said about 'next time,' Tony?" Phil asks.
Tony huffs out a laugh. "So you noticed that," he says, and falls silent for a spell. "We'll talk about it in the morning."
"Mmmm," Phil hums. "All right." He slides his hand upward to card through a few strands of Steve's hair, then shifts his hips back to burrow more closely into Clint's embrace.
"Lights, JARVIS," Tony says, and the room falls to near-total darkness, lit only by a dimmed view of the New York skyline outside.
After a moment of quiet, Steve laughs to himself. "Those fireworks were pretty swell, Tony," he says, "but this present beat them hands-down."
"My pleasure," Tony says appreciatively, and Clint can hear the sound of a kiss. "God bless America."
(end.)
Potential trigger warning/kink list: polyamory/open relationships, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, brief mention of spanking, every kind of sex (anal, oral, manual), frottage, off-screen kink and safe-sex negotiation, moderate consensual D/s dynamics, rope bondage, orgasm delay, allusions to past canonical violence, masturbation, moderate religious language of worship in a sexual context, unprotected rimming, cock ring use, object penetration (dildo), mild size kink, bukakke (ejaculation on face), face slapping, negotiation and aftercare.
Thanks to H. for inspiration, to everyone for reading, and particularly to everyone who commented or kudos'd on the earlier parts.
People who helped with invaluable betaing and cheerleading: Marmolita, Rhod, Vamp, LDF, Fire, Frogg, and everyone in feelschat. Thank you all, so, so much.
Art that particularly inspired me (some NSFW): orb01's Capsicoul sketches (from which I borrowed the brilliant idea that Phil has a Cap tattoo over his heart), randomslasher's OT4 cuddling, and flatbear's Steve/Tony/Clint.
Fic that particularly inspired me: 51stCenturyFox's The Swap and sabinelagrande's Enough To Go Around.
And yes, in my head, Phil is basically a Paladin whose patron deity is Steve Rogers. Glad You Noticed. And thank you for reading!
Chapter 3: Proof Through the Night
Two weeks pass. Clint doesn't think that Steve and Tony are avoiding him and Phil -- they still smile when they run into each other in the common areas, chat over breakfast -- but they don't initiate anything either. Meanwhile, the heat wave pulls back for a few days of cool breezes, then redoubles its efforts, drenching the city in a simmering haze. The news anchors make jokes about the Avengers battling global warming, but at least the real supervillains seem to be staying indoors. Clint goes on mission to Argentina, a milk run that they send him on because he's got nothing better to do, and he'd pulled a few strings to get sent somewhere chilly.
When Clint gets back, it's midday and the Tower is quiet. JARVIS informs him that Phil, Steve, and Natasha are at a strategic planning meeting (translation: boring and non-essential) on the Helicarrier, while Tony and Bruce are in their respective workshops. Clint drinks a beer and scans through his e-mail, but he's feeling itchy, starved for human contact, so he makes two sandwiches and heads down to Tony's lab.
"Oh good, you brought breakfast," Tony says when Clint steps in.
Clint rolls his eyes, but hands the sandwich over anyway. "Had fun with the mad science while I was gone?"
"Oh yeah, baby." Tony's smile is wide, a little manic, and Clint wonders just how much sleep the man's been getting. "Bruce got me thinking about the potential applications of a fullerene sheath for the suit -- with the right configuration of nanotubes, we can enhance durability while absorbing and storing photovoltaic energy. I'd be Superman."
Clint takes a bite of his own sandwich. He shouldn't find Tony's enthusiasm so cute. "I have no idea what you just said, but I'm happy for you?"
"Yeah, sorry, Steve and Pepper keep telling me that I have Bruce around to appreciate my brilliance properly, so I shouldn't try to impress other people by giving actual information about what I do. What can I do for you?"
"Nothing, really, just looking for company." Clint shrugs, then remembers a thought he'd had in Argentina and flagged in his mind for later. "But now that I'm here, I was wondering something. Is it true that Steve was literally born on the fourth of July?"
"If his Army enlistment papers are telling the truth. I asked him once, and he just cocked his head and said, 'If I were going to fake my birthdate, would I pick something that obvious?' But I'm pretty sure that Steve's secretly trolling us half the time, so who knows."
"Fair enough. So are you going to be doing anything special?"
"Doing anything special for -- crap." Tony's face suddenly goes pale. "JARVIS, what's today's date?"
"July 2nd, sir."
"Oh, good," Tony exhales in relief. "I thought it might've been tonight or something. Yeah, I'll figure out something nice for him."
"We could do a joint thing for him and Phil," Clint says. When Tony tilts his head inquisitively, he supplies, "Phil's birthday is the eighth."
"Wait, Agent has a birthday? Or do you mean that's the day he emerged from his factory?" Clint narrows his eyes. "Kidding. Really. Anyway, as much as I'd love an occasion for drinking and scantily clad guests, neither of them seems like the party type."
"That was ... actually almost thoughtful. I'm impressed."
"Because you're the model of polite tact yourself?"
"Okay, can't really argue that one," Clint grins. "What about a smaller kind of party, if you know what I mean?"
Tony leans back against his workbench, eyes crinkled with wicked amusement. "You're going to have to spell it out for me, since I'm pretty sure that 'have sex with Captain America' is more like a daily job perk than an annual sacrifice for me."
"Didn't say it would be with you. I mean, you'll be there, and so will I, but I'm guessing they'd both be happy to get a nudge in each other's direction." A pleasant thought shivers through Clint. "And I'm pretty sure that Phil would really enjoy tying me up and making me watch him and Steve fucking. You too, if you're into it."
"I'm liking this idea more and more. Set everything up, push them at each other, and put ourselves at their mercy?"
"Yeah, you and me together would basically be the best birthday present ever."
Tony laughs. "You're almost as modest as me. I like it. When are you thinking?"
"Split the difference?" Clint offers. "Steve's the fourth, Phil's the eighth, so we'll plan for July sixth?"
"It's a date." Hammering out all the details, limits, and preferences takes some time, and it doesn't help that Clint's brain is busy supplying him with mental images of everything the night might involve. He can't wait.
&&&&
After being convinced that no, Steve would not want a fireworks show in his honor, Tony's spending the holiday treating him to a Fourth of July picnic on Tony's yacht, then watching the Macy's fireworks from a prime spot on the Hudson itself. Clint and Phil are watching from their bedroom; the outside view's still pretty spectacular through the windows, and the view inside the room is even better, in Clint's completely biased opinion.
When Clint tells Phil about Tony's plan for Steve's birthday, Phil raises an eyebrow. "That's impressively low-key for Tony."
"Looks like Captain America's been rubbing off on him," Clint can't resist saying.
"That was terrible."
"Whatever. You love me because I say out loud the terrible jokes that you're already thinking."
Phil places a kiss on Clint's forehead. "Among other things." Then they're too busy kissing lazily to talk for a few minutes.
Eventually, Phil props his head up on one elbow. "So should I be worried about what you're planning for the sixth?"
Clint doesn't bother asking how Phil knows, because Phil knows everything. "You'll love it," he says.
"I wasn't actually talking about myself."
"Oh." Clint lets himself think for a few minutes before he answers, knowing Phil won't hurry this conversation. "Nah. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about it until it actually happened, that time in the dark, but that was ... good. Really good. I guess I just needed to know that even if you could have him, you'd still want me."
"I did, and I do, and I will." Phil doesn't say always -- but maybe he doesn't have to.
The words hang between them, and Clint feels them soak in and take root as the sky outside dazzles with red, white, and blue. He lets himself enjoy the moment, and then he lets himself break it. "Besides, you two were fucking hot together."
Phil shakes his head, a smile crinkling his eyes, and tackles Clint to the mattress with a wrestler's hold and a hard, dirty kiss.
&&&&
The evening of July 6th starts with dinner at Hassan's Shawarma Palace, because Phil was busy lying in an ICU the first time they went, and they haven't had a chance to go back. Tony's bought the place out for the night, so they don't have to worry about paparazzi, and a particularly large tip helped convince Hassan to overlook the pitchers of sangria from Pampano Botaneria. Clint knows that Phil suspects what's planned for later, but he doesn't say anything; they just enjoy a relaxed dinner and gossip about the Fantastic Four.
(Tony thinks that Reed Richards has a thing for Johnny Storm. Clint and Phil just exchange a look; when Tony asks them why, Clint explains that it's not very shocking that Tony believes an arrogant engineering genius would be attracted to a Steve look-alike. Tony narrows his eyes, and Steve just laughs.)
The sangria isn't very strong, just enough to relax everyone, and it tastes of summer and shared laughter. By the time they head back to the Tower, Phil's suppressing his smiles less, and Tony's eyes burn dark when they linger over Steve's body. Clint's happy in a way that he doesn't recognize, a diffuse, safe joy. He supposes that this is what family feels like.
Clint and Tony had decided on Tony's bedroom, since he's got the ridiculous California King, and they take the private elevator straight to his suite. Before stepping into the bedroom, Tony stops and turns to Steve and Phil. "Clint and I decided to plan a little something for your birthdays."
"God help us," Phil says sotto voce. Tony ignores him.
"Here's the plan. You two have been eyefucking each other without doing anything about it, and our gift is to help you get over yourselves. Erotic facilitators, if you will. Not that either of us would say no to joining in."
"If that's what you want," Clint adds, wondering how he got stuck as the voice of reason. "No pressure or expectations, if you don't want to do this."
Phil's face is -- adorable, really. He's stuck somewhere between "unflappable, mature adult" and "fanboy exploding with excitement," and the mixture of the two seems to involve twitchiness and a grin he can't tamp down. He glances over to Steve, who (for once) is the more unflappable of the two, wearing a calm smile.
"I'm in if you are," Steve says.
"I." Phil swallows. "Yes."
"Great! All right, everybody this way." Tony leads them into the bedroom; it's Clint's first time there, but somehow the clean, modern lines look exactly like he imagined. A desk near the bed is loaded with supplies: lube and condoms, unsurprisingly, but also coils of rope, a selection of dildos and butt plugs, latex gloves, and a couple of adjustable cock rings. Nothing on the kinky-pain-causing side of things, which Clint figures is probably wise until they've had more extensive conversations.
"Impressive," Phil says, in a voice that sounds more amused than impressed.
"Of course it is; this is me," Tony smirks. "So go on, you crazy kids. I know you've thought about this before."
Phil and Steve exchange a look. Tony already told Clint, back when they planned this, that Steve liked to take charge in the bedroom, and Clint thinks Phil’s reading the same thing in the tranquil control that Steve radiates. "You take point, and I'll provide support and back-up?" Phil asks.
"Only you, Phil," Steve says, and he softens it with a fond smile. "Come here." Steve steps toward Phil, tips Phil's head back with his palm, and kisses him thoroughly. With every second of the kiss, Clint can see Phil's shoulders relaxing, his body becoming more fluid and responsive.
Eventually Steve pulls his lips away. "I have some ideas on what to do with you, and I bet you do too, but what do we want to do with them?" He tilts his head toward Tony and Clint.
Phil looks consideringly at Clint. "My hawk always says he sees best at a distance. Tony, bring over that chair and tie him to it, wrists and ankles."
"You are a bastard," Clint says, entirely approvingly. "Want me dressed or undressed?"
"Just like that, I think. For now." Clint shivers, then sits down in the chair that Tony's brought over -- close enough to see everything, but too far to touch. Tony kneels in front of him to tie Clint's wrists to the chair arms and his ankles to the chair's front legs. The ropes are silky-soft and thick; by the time Tony's tugged the last knot tight, Clint thinks that he might be able to get free with sufficient time or sharp implements, but not without effort.
"They look good like that," Steve says. "Tony, stay there. Remember what you told me happened in the kitchen, a few weeks ago? This time, I want to watch you doing it."
"Yes, sir," Tony murmurs, just too soft to be entirely flippant. He looks up at Clint from between his spread legs, all touseled black hair and coy gaze.
"You heard him," Clint prods.
Tony doesn't respond verbally, just nuzzles Clint's denim-clad dick. He reaches up and undoes Clint's jeans, sliding down his boxers until the elastic cups Clint's balls, then dives in with enthusiasm, sucking and licking at Clint's cock like it's Christmas in July. It's like last time, except it's not like it at all, because Clint tries to put his hand on Tony's head and he can't, he can't do anything but grip the chair and buck his hips up into Tony's mouth.
Clint pulls his gaze up from Tony's lips to see what Steve and Phil are doing. Steve's laid out on the bed, eyes fixed on Clint and Tony; Phil lies next to him. Phil caresses Steve’s clothed body slowly, reverently, planting kisses on the patch of skin between hair and collar, but he looks back at Clint and gives him a reassuring nod.
As if he notices that Clint's attention is wandering, Tony boosts his efforts, working over Clint in wet, tight spirals. Clint's rock hard, already close, when Steve says, "Stop, Tony. You're doing well, and I don't want him to finish yet. Come over here."
Clint can't stop the whine of protest from leaving his throat, but Phil just raises one eyebrow: tough luck, but no. So Tony leaves him like that, cock slick and bobbing in the air, legs splayed open and tied in place, and Clint's pretty sure that he's never been this turned on in his life.
"Thanks," Steve says to Tony. "You can wait right there for now. Touch yourself if you want, but don't come yet. I'll tell you when I want to use you further." Then he turns to Phil, and his voice still has a Captain America tenor, but with an added note of shy hesitance. "I'd like to watch you undress."
Phil's eyes widen, as if he honestly didn't expect to be asked that, but he begins to unbutton his shirt. A few buttons down, he hesitates. "Before you say anything, I was young at the time." (Clint doesn't say "I already warned them that I'd murder them if they laughed," because he figures that Phil would only find that more embarrassing.)
"Go on," Steve says. In his peripheral vision, Clint can see Tony stroking his own cock, light and casual, as the two of them watch the main action.
After a pause, Phil keeps unbuttoning, then pulls the shirt off. He's wearing a sleeveless undershirt, thin and low-necked enough that everyone can see the round Captain America shield tattooed on Phil's chest. It's small, maybe three inches across, and it rests directly above Phil's heart. A jagged scar, pink with age but still puckered, rips through the shield like a bolt of lightning.
The sight of it still makes Clint's breath catch sometimes. He can't imagine what Steve and Tony must be thinking.
Steve just moves over to crouch before Phil, tugging off the undershirt, and he places a kiss on the scar, right where it bisects the center of the shield. Then his lips part, and his tongue begins to lave over the tattoo, tracing its curves with open-mouthed kisses. Clint knows from experience that the healed skin is a sensory minefield; some patches are numb, but others feel every sensation twice as sharply. Judging by Phil's quick gasps, Steve's finding every one of those places.
While Steve continues to press kisses to Phil's chest, his hands undo Phil's pants and slide them off, along with his briefs. Phil already toed off his shoes and socks, so he's lying next to Steve, naked and perfect, clearly too lost in the sensation of Steve's tongue to feel the slightest shame. Steve grasps Phil's cock loosely, just holding it for a moment, and Phil lets loose a wordless groan.
"Can I --" Phil starts, clearly fighting for self-control. "Can I return the favor?"
"I'd like that," Steve says.
Phil doesn't kiss Steve while he's undressing him. He doesn't say anything. He just begins by unbuttoning Steve's shirt -- plaid and old-fashioned and perfectly him -- button by methodical button, his eyes drinking in every inch of skin. Phil's memorizing this, Clint realizes: mapping the fantasies of his adolescence to concrete reality. From the look of awe on Phil's face, reality's even better than he had imagined.
Steve's clearly reading the same thoughts in Phil's face, and maybe this moment is when Clint starts to love him, because Steve's expression is tender, respectful, and just as awed -- as if he doesn't know why he's receiving this worship, but he'll do anything to live up to it. When Phil finishes unbuttoning Steve's shirt, Steve pulls him in for a gentle kiss.
Whatever Steve tastes in that kiss, it makes him shudder; Clint sees his hands move impatiently to his belt buckle, then stop when Phil gives him a chastening look. Then Phil continues his patient exploration: unbuckles the belt and pulls off Steve's undershirt, eyes tracing every contour of Steve's (admittedly stunning) musculature. Phil pauses his divestment, tracing one finger around Steve's pectorals, and murmurs, "Wow."
(Tony's still on his knees, lazily jacking himself off. When Clint spares a glance for him, he's wearing an expression of, "fuck yeah, I win at life." Looking at that landscape of smooth, golden skin, those tight nipples and broad shoulders, Clint can see Tony's point.)
Phil slides off Steve's pants and underwear with appropriate veneration, and then they're both nude -- Steve on his back, propped up on elbows, and Phil crouched above him -- and both erect.
"Anything particular we should put on the agenda?" Steve asks, and Phil gives him a shaky laugh.
"How good is your refraction period?"
Steve grins in return. "Good enough."
"In that case, I'd -- I'd really like it if you'd fuck me, eventually. But for now, can I taste you?"
"Absolutely," Steve says, but then he gets a speculative look. "Tony. While Phil's doing that, I could use your help getting him nice and open. Fingers if you prefer, but I bet we could make him fall apart even faster if you eat him out."
"On it," Tony says, voice low and eager. He grabs a bottle of lube and a glove, then climbs onto the bed.
Phil's shifting his position down Steve's body, pausing along the way to lick at Steve's nipples and leave them hard and gleaming-wet. Clint's never seen Steve naked before, and as Phil's mouth slides down past Steve's stomach, it confirms what he'd suspected: below his head, Steve's completely and beautifully hairless. On his chest, it makes him look surreally angelic; at his groin, with his cock jutting out obscenely long and rosy from bare flesh, he looks more like a filthy porn star.
(Clint's so hard himself that he can feel his body thrumming like a taut bowstring, and the fact that he can't even touch his own dick is excruciating. He wonders whether he can come untouched; it's never happened before, but the way things are going, he wouldn't be surprised.)
Then Phil finally reaches Steve's cock, and he just sinks his head down, takes it in all the way, and swallows eagerly with his eyes shut, as if in prayer. Clint's pretty sure that he's actually nuzzling Steve's thigh with his cheek, while Steve's genuinely trembling from the effort of keeping his body in check. Phil slides back up, then begins to caress Steve's cock with his tongue, drawing long, teasing lines up and down the hard length. When he gets to the head, he swirls his tongue around it like a lollipop, then flutters against the underside. Clint knows these movements, has enjoyed them himself in the past, but seeing them on Steve helps him appreciate the sheer enthusiasm that Phil has for cocksucking, the way he smiles around the shaft between his lips.
Clint had almost forgotten about Tony when Phil suddenly jerks and groans loud around Steve's dick. He shifts his attention back down the bed, and yeah, Tony's lapping at Phil's ass with his tongue, sliding it up and down Phil's crack and circling delicately around Phil's hole, coy and filthy all at once. Meanwhile, Phil's resumed sucking Steve off, but he's less restrained now, practically fucking his mouth on Steve's dick. Steve responds to the increasing pace, letting his hips buck upward and thrust deep into Phil's throat, and his hands loosely cup the back of Phil's head.
Tony pulls back -- God, the sight of Phil's ass pink and damp and beard-burned -- and returns with lube-slick fingers, sliding a single finger into Phil's hole, then curving it to make Phil practically scream around Steve's dick. And that's it -- the vibration and urgency, or maybe just the sight of Phil undone with desire -- and Steve's gasping, "Phil, I'm going to --", and Phil just sucks harder until Steve's shuddering beneath him with jerky movements, and then he swallows it all down.
When Phil lifts his head up, there's a small trickle of Steve's cum sliding down from the corner of his mouth; Phil gasps a few breaths, throat raspy, and licks his lips clean. Clint thinks he might be about to die from sheer arousal.
Phil starts to move out of the way, but Steve reaches up and tugs him back down; one exquisitely muscled arm holds each of Phil's arms in place. "Keep going, Tony," Steve says. "Get him nice and loose for me."
Clint knows that Phil's never liked being restrained, but this looks more like he's keeping Phil secure for Tony to lick and finger-fuck, suspended above Steve's sweat-damp body, and that is something that Phil seems to enjoy thoroughly. Tony adds a second slick finger into Phil's ass, then bends down and begins to lick around the rim; the touch of his tongue to taut, hot skin has Phil's knees nearly buckling, while unvoiced expletives animate his lips. Tony just keeps sliding his fingers in and out, pushing deep enough to tease at Phil's prostate, while his tongue strokes and moistens around the edge. Phil's cock is still hanging free between his legs, rock-hard and gleaming at the tip with pre-cum, and god, Clint wishes he could taste it right now.
One more finger and a thrust inward, and Phil arches his back shamelessly and gasps, "-- stop." Immediately, Steve releases his hold on Phil's arms, and Tony pulls away from his ass. Phil breathes, in and out, then says, "That's good. Really good. But I don't have super-soldier stamina, and I don't want to come until Steve's inside me. I'm ready."
Steve looks at him carefully and glances down at his own (not inconsiderable) girth. "I don't want to hurt you."
Phil meets his gaze firmly. "I'll be fine."
"No offense," Tony says, "but I think your judgment might be a little compromised right now. Want me to get the cock ring, Cap?"
"I like that plan better," Steve nods. "One of the, uh, toys, too. Something medium-sized."
"Fantastic," Tony says with approval. (As he passes by Clint's chair, Tony skates his fingertips over Clint's clothed inner thighs, carefully avoiding actual contact with his cock. "Bastard," Clint grits out, and Tony just grins and winks.) By the time he's returned from the table, holding a black cock ring and a pale, realistically-sculpted silicone dildo, Steve's flipped Phil onto his back and positioned a pillow beneath his hips.
"Want to do the honors?" Tony asks. Steve does, and he fastens the cock ring on Phil, who's lying back with a half-dazed look on his face. (It's a good look on him, Clint thinks.) Then Tony slicks up the dildo and begins to work it into Phil's ass, slow and easy, while Phil pulls his knees toward his chest to ease the way. Steve, meanwhile, lies on his side next to Phil, stroking his chest and brushing his thumb over Phil's nipples. When Steve's mouth latches onto Phil's neck and bites down, Phil lets out an inchoate groan.
"Clint," Phil pants, "talk to me." Clint realizes that this is like the inverse of all their ops together: Phil needs his voice to ground and stabilize him, let him know which way is up.
"You're so damn gorgeous like this, Phil," Clint says. "Love seeing you spread open, watching your ass get filled up so tight. God, seeing you like that with Steve Rogers, marking you up, it's like all those fantasies you shared with me. Love the way your body responds to his, the way your nipples harden at his touch, the way your stomach goes tight at his fingertips. And Jesus, your cock is beautiful, so hard I can see every vein, wrapped up in a bow until you're ready for Steve to make you come. Tony, angle that up a bit, so you're just grazing over his prostate -- yeah, like that, Phil, I love hearing you moan."
By now, Tony's pumping the dildo in and out of Phil's ass with long, full strokes, and Clint can see the way that the toy's bulbous head stretches Phil's rim every time, half catching and making his legs jerk with overwhelming sensation. "Almost there, Phil," Steve says, and then he straddles Phil's chest. "Want to get me nice and wet?"
Phil nods, too far gone for words, and Steve leans forward and feeds his cock into Phil's mouth. Clint remembers belatedly that he's still supposed to be talking. "Fuck, Phil, this has to be the hottest thing I've ever seen -- Tony fucking your ass open with a toy while Captain America presses you into the mattress and rides your face. I'm so turned on for you, babe, leaking all over my jeans. Driving me crazy."
"Seriously, Steve, I'm pretty sure that if you don't fuck him soon, Phil's dick might fall off," Tony interjects.
Steve glances back at Tony and casts him a grin. "Wouldn't want that to happen." He slides his cock back from Phil's lips, gives them a soft kiss, and goes down to take Tony's place.
"Anything I can do?" Tony asks. He's left the dildo half-buried in Phil's hole, and Clint dazedly watches it slide outward of its own volition, slick and excruciatingly slow.
Phil speaks up, voice ragged. "You could jerk yourself off while you watch, then come onto Clint's face. He likes it when he gets all messy and marked-up." (It's true, even if Clint always feels a little ashamed to ask for it.)
"So not a hardship," Tony grins. He scoots to the edge of the bed, sprawls with his legs wide, and goes back to stroking his own cock. He'd pulled off his pants some time back, but he's still clothed from the waist up, which makes the sight perversely more obscene.
After giving Tony an appreciative once-over, Steve turns back to the pornographic sight in front of him. Phil's sweaty and breathing swiftly -- lips swollen from cocksucking, chest and neck scattered with red bite marks, cock full and dark above its leather band, legs held up and splayed open to put his ass on display. Steve pulls the dildo out, leaving a shiny dribble of lube in its wake, unrolls a condom onto himself, and positions the head of his cock at Phil's ass. Smoothly and without hesitation, he sinks into Phil's body.
Clint can see Phil stretching and filling to accommodate Steve, but just as beautiful is the way that Phil's eyes are rolled back, mouth open in a voiceless cry that's somehow also a smile. This is it -- this, Phil told him once, was the adolescent fantasy that convinced him he was gay -- and Steve's thrusting balls-deep into Phil with an affectionate crinkle to his eyes, something that says I want to be here even more strongly than the aroused tremble of his limbs.
Steve's thighs are a fucking marvel of human achievement, Clint thinks, watching them flex and stretch as Steve pistons into Phil, and Steve's ass is almost as miraculous. He can see Tony's eyes fixed on it, too, hungry and possessive and proud. The room's air is thick with sweat and the scent of cum, and everyone's ragged breathing isn't enough to mask the slippery squelch of Steve's cock penetrating Phil, of Tony's hand bringing himself off, fast and desperate.
Clint isn't sure how long they hover at that altitude, where he's so hard he could cry, but he's too busy drinking in every detail of the scene to complain. All he knows is that eventually Steve grits through his teeth, "I'm getting -- close --"
"Yeah, okay," Phil breathes, and he unstraps his cock ring with one hand. "Feel free -- ah -- feel free to pound me as hard as you want, Steve, I want to feel you when I'm --"
His voice breaks off as Steve redoubles his efforts, thrusting into Phil with a force that has to hurt, but Phil's riding on a cloud of bliss, his head thrown back and utterly undone. He wraps one hand around his rigid cock, gives it the barest handful of strokes, and then he's coming so hard that he arches off the bed, white cum spattering across his chest.
The pressure on Steve's dick, as Phil clenches erratically around a cock that large, has to be incredible, and from the wordless groan that Steve gives and the way his pace quickens even further, he's coming too. They ride out their orgasms to the limit, savoring the final aftershocks, before Steve slumps down next to Steve, pulls out, and disposes of the condom. "That was -- wow. Thank you." Clint's not sure if Steve's thanking Phil for his participation, or himself and Tony for their planning. Doesn't matter, really, because everyone's happy.
Everyone besides his dick, anyway. Now that Phil and Steve are puddled on the bed, his body's reminding him of just how badly Clint's been wanting to come. He tugs fruitlessly at his ropes, then casts a pleading glance at Phil.
"Haven't forgotten about you, babe," Phil says, voice languid and blissed-out. "My turn to watch now. If Tony gives you a hand, can you wait until he paints your face before you come?"
"Think so," Clint says, then adds, "as long as it's soon."
"Patience, young Padawan," Tony smirks, and Clint's about to chew him out for being a geeky asshole when swiftly, gloriously, Tony wraps his free hand around Clint's cock. "God, the look on your face, watching them," Tony says, low and fierce, while he jacks off his cock toward Clint's face. "Next time I'll have to see how long we can keep you on the edge, make you so desperate you're begging to be touched."
Clint should've expected Tony to talk as much as he does, but the words and Tony's slick-pumping hand and the way he's exposed, everyone watching him lose control, threaten to overwhelm him. "Tony, I can't -- I'm gonna --"
"No," Tony says, and removes his hand from Clint's cock to give him a light slap across the face. "Now open your mouth and ask me nicely."
"Fuck you," Clint says, meeting Tony's dark, hungry eyes. "Like you don't want to come onto me, watch me lick your spunk off my face." Clint swipes his tongue over his lips, long and languid, and enjoys the way that Tony's hips jerk toward him in response.
"Tony," Steve says, just that single word, and Tony closes his eyes and smiles and comes all over Clint's face. Some of it drips into Clint's mouth, and he licks it up and smiles prettily at Tony, blinking the thick droplets out of his eyelashes.
"My kingdom for a camera," Tony mutters, still panting as he comes down from his orgasm, but he crouches beside Clint and wraps his hand back around his dick. And finally, finally, Clint can just let go and fly, feel the cum on his face and the sweat trickling down his neck, close his eyes and see after-images of Steve thrusting into Phil relentlessly, enjoy the slick up-and-down of Tony's hand, and god, he's coming, he's coming into Tony's hand so hard and long that the world fades to a starburst of absolute bliss.
Clint doesn't pass out. He doesn't. He just rests his eyes and breathes for a few minutes, vaguely aware of the others moving around him. When he opens them again, Phil's untying him from the chair, hands careful and sure with the knots. As each wrist and ankle is loosened, Phil strokes the skin underneath, easing back sensation where the ropes have left a red-white imprint. Then, once Clint's free, Phil grabs a warm, damp washcloth, wipes Clint's face clean, and cleanses the mess from Clint's softening cock.
After, he leans forward to tilt his forehead against Clint's. "Thank you. That was amazing, and you were amazing. Best birthday present of my life."
Clint just wraps his arms around him, wincing briefly as his muscles adjust to free movement, and holds Phil tight. "You deserve all of it, and more."
For a few moments, they just rest against each other; from the stillness of the room, Clint guesses that Steve and Tony are doing the same. Eventually, Phil presses a kiss to Clint's lips. "If I don't move soon, I may fall asleep on top of you."
"Sleep," Clint smiles, feeling fuzzy and floaty. "That sounds nice."
"C'mon, Barton, get up," Phil says, standing up and offering his arms.
Clint can hear sheets shifting a few feet away. "You don't have to go," Tony says. "Plenty of room on the bed."
Phil meets Clint's eyes, asking a silent question. Clint nods. "I don't mind."
"Roll over, Cap," Tony says, and the two of them shift to the far side of the bed, leaving space for Phil and Clint.
By the time everyone's repositioned and undressed, Steve's lying on his back with a quiet smile on his face, one arm wrapped around Tony, whose head rests on Steve's chest. On Steve's other side, Phil and Clint are spooning -- Phil has a hand resting on Steve's shoulder, maintaining physical contact, while Clint curls up behind him. He breathes in the familiar scent of Phil's shampoo and strokes one hand idly across Phil's chest. Part of him expects to feel strange, sharing the bed with two other people, but Steve and Tony aren't just other people -- they're family, maybe not as safe as Phil, but safe enough for Clint to rest.
"What was that you said about 'next time,' Tony?" Phil asks.
Tony huffs out a laugh. "So you noticed that," he says, and falls silent for a spell. "We'll talk about it in the morning."
"Mmmm," Phil hums. "All right." He slides his hand upward to card through a few strands of Steve's hair, then shifts his hips back to burrow more closely into Clint's embrace.
"Lights, JARVIS," Tony says, and the room falls to near-total darkness, lit only by a dimmed view of the New York skyline outside.
After a moment of quiet, Steve laughs to himself. "Those fireworks were pretty swell, Tony," he says, "but this present beat them hands-down."
"My pleasure," Tony says appreciatively, and Clint can hear the sound of a kiss. "God bless America."
(end.)
Potential trigger warning/kink list: polyamory/open relationships, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, brief mention of spanking, every kind of sex (anal, oral, manual), frottage, off-screen kink and safe-sex negotiation, moderate consensual D/s dynamics, rope bondage, orgasm delay, allusions to past canonical violence, masturbation, moderate religious language of worship in a sexual context, unprotected rimming, cock ring use, object penetration (dildo), mild size kink, bukakke (ejaculation on face), face slapping, negotiation and aftercare.
Thanks to H. for inspiration, to everyone for reading, and particularly to everyone who commented or kudos'd on the earlier parts.
People who helped with invaluable betaing and cheerleading: Marmolita, Rhod, Vamp, LDF, Fire, Frogg, and everyone in feelschat. Thank you all, so, so much.
Art that particularly inspired me (some NSFW): orb01's Capsicoul sketches (from which I borrowed the brilliant idea that Phil has a Cap tattoo over his heart), randomslasher's OT4 cuddling, and flatbear's Steve/Tony/Clint.
Fic that particularly inspired me: 51stCenturyFox's The Swap and sabinelagrande's Enough To Go Around.
And yes, in my head, Phil is basically a Paladin whose patron deity is Steve Rogers. Glad You Noticed. And thank you for reading!