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Another time Clint would confess his kinks was after sex, snuggled together in a post-orgasmic haze, whispering in the dark.
"Sometimes I think about other people knowing," he said one night after a particularly satisfying session that had left them both floppy and satisfied, the pair of them raw and honest, clinging together.
"Knowing what?" Phil asked, gently kissing the tip of Clint's ear.
"How dirty I am. How much of a slut."
He pushed his head into the crook of Phil's neck and Phil brushed his fingers through his hair. "Like who?"
He shrugged in Phil's arms. "Strangers. Like, I-" He stopped himself and Phil pressed a kiss into his hair before he continued. "I imagine us going out to dinner and me riling you up so much that you spank me right there in the restaurant."
Phil hummed in interest and amusement. "Really?"
Clint nodded against him. "And then... you'd fuck me there too, to teach me a lesson."
"In front of everyone?"
"In front of everyone. And they'd all know how dirty I am."
"You are pretty dirty," Phil agreed.
"And you... you have to punish me for it."
"Hmm."
-
The restaurant wasn't too busy, perhaps a dozen other people considering the late hour. Clint shifted in his seat, the plug Phil had told him to wear an unforgettable presence. They did this sometimes, the anticipation building as they'd eat dinner, knowing that as soon as they were home Phil could have Clint right there on the hallway rug.
"Stop fidgeting," Phil remarked, not looking up from the phone he was turning off. Clint huffed and rolled his eyes. You try not fidgeting when there's a giant hunk of plastic up your ass, he thought. As if he could read Clint's mind, Phil eyed him over the top of his menu. Clint stuck out his tongue and Phil just smirked. He'd pay for that later.
The place didn't seem all that fancy, considering the drive out there and the way Phil had insisted on it. Just a run of the mill Italian kind of place, unremarkable but for the strange way the host looked at them when they arrived. When the waiter came over, Phil ordered for them. "What the hell?" Clint asked once the waiter was gone. "I can order my own food, asshole."
Phil looked at him sharply. "What did you just call me?" Clint rolled his eyes and Phil looked him over. "You've got a terrible attitude today, boy."
Clint smirked back. "What are you gonna do about it, old man?"
"I'll have you right over this table if you're not careful."
Clint's mouth formed a perfect little 'o' and Phil smiled mildly as the waiter came back to pour them both some wine. Phil stopped the man before he left. "Could we get some olive oil for the table?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Hmm that should work," he said to himself when the waiter brought it over.
Clint looked between them and narrowed his eyes. The waiter ducked his head and left.
"What the hell was that?"
"Oh, just something to lube your ass."
He wasn't being quiet and there was another couple at a table not five feet away. "Phil."
"What?"
"Stop it," he replied, honestly scandalised.
"Stop what? Talking about how I'm going to ream you open later on? Stretch you out even more than that plug you're wearing?"
The couple to their left had stopped talking and were obviously watching their argument with interest. Clint felt himself blush, a hot crawling sensation up his neck as Phil continued in a conversational tone. "Tan your hide for being a rude little brat? Punish you for being a dirty slut who can't say no?"
"Phil!"
The waiter brought their food and punctuated their conversation neatly. Clint wasn't hungry anymore, not with eyes all over the restaurant watching him go bright red.
Phil started eating, twirling spaghetti onto his fork with his mild-mannered Agent face on. "Eat up, Clint. You know what happens to boys who don't finish their dinner."
With a face like thunder, Clint swallowed before taking a bite of his pizza. It was delicious, but he could hardly taste it, too aware of everyone hearing the things Phil kept saying.
The bottle of olive oil sat in the middle of the table and Clint's eyes kept wandering back to it. There was no way Phil would actually -
"You're taking an awfully long time to eat. Don't you like it?"
Clint snapped out of his reverie and looked up at Phil. "What? No, it's great. I'm just not hungry I guess."
"Why's that?" Phil asked, sounding concerned but Clint knew that for the lie that it was. Phil knew exactly why he wasn't hungry.
"Why do you think?!"
"You tell me."
Clint leaned across the table to hiss at him, "‘Cause you keep talking about how you're gonna fuck me later."
"Well I am going to fuck you later," Phil returned, utterly unphased and talking way too loudly. People were looking again. "I'm going to fuck you right here on this table, Clint. In front of all these people."
Clint spluttered. "Phil!"
"It's up to you if you want it to include a spanking or not." Phil popped a neat forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and smiled blandly.
"Wh- but... you can't. Isn't it against the law? Or?"
Phil cocked an eyebrow at Clint. "There's a reason we're so far out of town."
Clint didn't know what that meant, but it was clear that Phil had somehow orchestrated this whole thing and maybe he was actually going to fuck him in this room full of people that neither of them knew. Or maybe Phil knew them? Which had a whole other set of panicky thoughts flitting through Clint's mind. Showing off his slut of a boyfriend to old friends Clint had never met, their first and only impression of him being that he was Phil's boy to do with as he pleased.
Phil watched him as he worked through all this and leaned close, brushing a hand over the back of Clint's. "We don't have to."
Clint looked at Phil's hand on his own and then back to his face where only kindness resided. Asshole arranged this whole thing just for Clint. "What if I do want to?"
Taking a deep breath, Phil leaned back. "Then you should get under the table and suck my cock."
If Clint had been scandalised before, he was even more so at that. Phil stared at him with such possessiveness, such command, that Clint slid beneath the table without even looking around to see if anyone was looking.
He gingerly located Phil's fly and pulled it down, fumbling for his cock through layers of trouser, shirttail and underwear. When his hand finally grasped the velvet smooth skin he pulled it free and began to suck.
The table was small enough that anyone, everyone who went past could see someone was under there. Phil was silent as Clint coaxed his cock into hardness, the thrill of doing something so filthy with other people so close, knowing exactly what he was doing grinding deep into his soul. All of them knowing Clint was sucking Phil's cock right then and there, his mouth on his dick, servicing it, worshipping it as he knelt on the floor beneath him.
Clint's own cock was rock hard from it all.
After enough time that Clint had lost track, Phil tapped him on the head to have him stop. "What are you doing down there? Get up."
Clint crawled back out, towards the couple who had been watching them argue earlier. They looked at him as he stood up. The table had been cleared and now all that was on there was the oil.
"Undo your trousers and bend over the edge of the table."
"But-"
"Do it or you don't get any lube at all."
Clint did as he was bid, his ass pointing towards the rest of the restaurant and the patrons who were all staring at him. Phil pulled his pants down and Clint heard someone gasp at the sight of the base of the plug nestled between his cheeks. Phil stayed seated as he gripped and twisted it but left it there for the time being, just reminding Clint that it was there, as if he'd ever forget.
The next thing Clint knew, Phil was spanking him. Phil liked to make his asscheeks go as red as he could make them, sharp, stinging slaps that had him wincing and clenching his fists against the tablecloth. He could hear the murmurs of the people around them, unable to make out the words but feeling their eyes on his reddening skin.
"What are you?" Phil asked, cruelly brushing a hand lightly over Clint's skin.
"A naughty boy, sir," Clint choked out, turning his head to face Phil.
"No no, don't look at me. Look at them, look at all the people seeing you take your punishment."
Clint looked back at the people watching but couldn't meet their eyes. Phil struck him again and again til he had his eyes screwed shut against the sting. He flinched when he expected another slap but Phil waited til he relaxed before bringing his hand down with a chuckle.
"Are you ready for my cock?"
Clint's own dick strained against the table cloth - so unsanitary, Clint thought absently - and he nodded. Phil slapped him again. "Yes, sir."
"Yes sir what?"
"Fuck me. Put your cock in me.... Please?"
"So desperate you're ready to be fucked in front of all these people?"
"Yes," Clint replied breathlessly. "Please."
Clint felt the tug of Phil gripping the base of the plug and pulling it, gently prying it back out of him, the thickness of it stretching him before he let it pull itself back in. Between slaps to his quivering ass, Phil played with it some more, back and forth til he popped it all the way out and set it on the table in front of Clint's face.
He was really going to do it. Phil picked up the oil and the next thing Clint felt was coldness against his ass, dripping over his ass cheeks and down the crack between. Phil smoothed it into his skin and murmured, "Beautiful," before adding some more and lining up solidly behind Clint. A few members of staff appeared in Clint's line of sight as Phil's cock head nudged against his hole, open enough from the plug to accept him easily with only a little bit of a burn as he adjusted to the intrusion.
"Getting fucked right where everyone can see," Phil said, an oily hand finding it's way into Clint's hair. "Like a dirty little whore. You like it? Does my cock feel good filling you up like this?" He slapped Clint's ass again when he nodded. "Say it, Clint. Let everyone hear how much you like to be fucked."
He whimpered in response and was rewarded with another slap before bursting out with, "I love it I love it I love it. Give it to me Phil, fill me up with your dick, please! I need it. Fuck me."
Phil pulled Clint's hair and upped the pace, fucking into him in short, brutal thrusts. The plug in Clint's eyeline wobbled and then fell over from the shaking of the table and that for some reason had Clint letting go and pushing back, fucking himself onto Phil's cock and letting his desperation fly free.
"That's right, take it baby, take what you need. Fuck yourself on my cock. Let them see."
Clint rested his forehead on the table and let his body do as it wanted, arching his back and pushing himself back onto Phil's dick. "Everyone knows now," Phil murmured, less loud than the other things he'd been saying, "How much you love it, need it. You'd do anything for my dick wouldn't you, baby? To have my dick in you?"
"Yes," Clint replied, because it was true. "Anything."
"Even let me fuck you in a room full of strangers."
"Yes!"
Phil seemed to stutter and stop, his hand's falling to Clint's back, pushed up under Clint's shirt before moving again, back and forth quickly before pushing in hard and stopping. "You want my cum, baby?"
"Yes! Please, please cum in my ass," Clint whined, hiding his face again from the eyes of everyone else. This time Phil let him. Phil pulled back and fucked him shallowly a few more times before pushing himself as far in as he could and coming, choking out a litany of curses as he emptied himself inside him.
He pulled out slowly and then something else was against Clint. He thought it was someone else's cock for a moment before he realised it was the plug again, closing him back up and keeping him full. He whimpered into the tablecloth. "Stand up, sweetheart," Phil told him, the sound of Phil's zipper closing behind him. Clint stood slowly, his erection plain for everyone to see. "You can touch," he said, close behind Clint and kissing the back of his neck. "C'mon Clint, you gotta give the people a show."
He couldn't. He couldn't jerk off in front of all these people. Phil guided Clint's hand to his own cock and closed it around the length as he kissed his neck again. "So hard, baby. You like being my little slut so much, so hard from it. C'mon, get yourself off. Fuck your hand."
Clint let Phil move his hand for him, jerking him off across the table with dozens of eyes watching him. "You're gonna come so hard aren't you? All full of my cum, marked up inside. I know you like it, you told me so yourself. Told me how dirty you were long ago. Prove it to me, Clint, show me how filthy you can be."
A couple more strokes and Clint was gone, clenching around the plug as he shot across the table and into both their hands as Phil held onto him. He whimpered and sobbed as he did it, so far gone that he couldn't contain anything anymore, letting go completely as he was torn apart.
When he came down from it all, people were still watching him, and he looked down at himself. Covered in cum and oil, plugged up and filthy. Phil pulled up Clint's pants and buttoned them, letting Clint zip them closed, leaving his shirt untucked. There was a smattering of applause that Clint barely registered as Phil wrapped an arm around his waist and led them out to the car.
"Those people," Clint began once Phil had set him in the passenger seat with two take-out boxes on his lap. "The bill?"
"All taken care of. Didn't I tell you I'd take care of you?"
Well, yes, he had. But not like that.