Work Text:
“Phil,” Clint moans, voice already a little shaky. “Phil...”
Phil reaches down and pinches the tube, stopping the warm liquid that’s filling Clint quite well already. “You need a break?”
Clint nods and pushes his head into the pillow that Phil brought in when he set this all up earlier; pillow, all manner of towels, a couple of soft toys, bottled water. When they remodelled the bathroom into a wetroom this hadn’t been quite what Phil had in mind. But like all things in their life, it had somehow gotten pulled into whatever odd sex thing that Clint, but increasingly Phil, comes up with.
Clint breathes in and out a few times before blinking at Phil and nodding. “I can take some more.”
“Sure?”
Clint nods again and Phil lets go of the tube. The defined planes of Clint’s stomach are already a little distended, pushed out with the swell of the liquid Phil’s put inside him. He runs a thumb carefully over it, mindful of how sensitive Clint gets when he’s like this, and it draws out a moan, but a good one.
“Like bein’ like this,” Clint says softly, looking at Phil with wide eyes.
“Yeah? What do you like about it, sweetheart?” Phil asks, because sure, he’s hard as a rock but he needs to know if they’re both hard for the same reasons. It’s one thing indulging each other but this... it’s a lot to ask of anyone.
“Like how you look at me. How you...” Clint winces momentarily and Phil leans down to brush his lips over his forehead. “How gentle you get.”
Phil looks at him and wants to say he’d always be this gentle if Clint wanted him to, but he knows Clint doesn’t want it all the time. They both have their things and this is one of the few when Clint really lets him go all out with the pampering and the looking after of his precious, perfect boyfriend.
“I like it too,” he says instead. “I like that you let me-” he continues before Clint can insist he’d let Phil do anything, which he knows - can’t quite believe but he knows - and doesn’t need to hear again, not when he’s doing this to him. It’s already far too much already. “I like that you let me look after you. That you trust me enough for it.”
Clint’s getting fuller, his belly distending a little more, rounding out almost looking like he could be pregnant, though the cock jutting out beneath is enough of a reminder that, well, that this is a complete fantasy, but one that Clint’s not too averse to either.
“Does it turn you on, baby? Filling you up like this?”
Clint nods rapidly, promising that it does. No snark or sarcasm when he’s like this. He just gets so earnest and... pure seems like the wrong word in such a situation, but that’s what it is. Reduced down to his basest elements. It’s dirty and wrong of him, but Phil can’t help but love it when Clint reaches for him, says his name, showing that he really does want Phil, beneath it all. And Phil should know this by now but he can’t stop the thrill of testing it and it being proven once again.
“I love it,” Clint promises, and Phil kisses him over and over, all over his face til Clint’s laughing at it.
Phil rubs his belly when he pulls back, watching his hand as it brushes over the still-swelling flesh. Clint watches him do it and sighs softly. “I wish I really could make a baby for you.”
Phil licks his lips and looks back at Clint’s face. They’ve come this far in all this, he thinks. Might as well walk him through the fantasy. Clint can see him thinking about it and smiles. “C’mon tell me about it.”
“I have no idea how or, or why,” Phil starts after a breath, looking back at his hand on Clint’s tummy. “but I sometimes think about it. That something makes it happen, makes you able to do it. And then I can fuck you and we’ll know it could happen. That each time I come inside you there could be a-” he stops and laughs at himself. “A baby,” Clint says. Phil nods and looks absently at the tube still filling Clint. “Yeah.”
“But I think,” Phil continues, still not looking at Clint, because he can’t. “I think it’s more about how it’d be inside you. That I did that to you, put it in you. A part of me growing inside you like that. That you’d let me. And everyone’d know I did it.”
He stops again and Clint reaches out for him. His eyes are half lidded and smiling when Phil risks looking at his face. “I like that.”
They hold on to each other for a minute, quiet but for their breaths in the echoey bathroom. Clint rubs a hand over his stomach and huffs. “So big,” he marvels. Phil squeezes his other hand and nods. “Beautiful.”
Clint tenses up and winces again, and Phil reaches down to crimp the tube once more. “No, I’m ok, I can take more,” Clint promises. “Fill me up, I wanna take it all.”
Phil can’t help the streak of possession that makes him preen. “Take it all for me?”
Clint smiles weak but determined. “Yeah. C’mon, gimme it all. I wanna be huge. And when I’m too full to move I wanna suck your dick too.” He stops, and almost looks away before tipping his chin up defiantly. Phil’s cock jumps and Clint feels it, grins at Phil. “Please?”
There are too many things Phil’s feeling right now to properly express them all, he feels as full as Clint actually is, like he might burst from it. “Yes,” he says, and even that makes him feel like he’s pushing at something that’s fit to explode.
“Tell me how it feels. Tell me how full you are.”
Clint moans in the back of his throat and Phil moves around and down to really watch the action, watch where he’s filling him up so thoroughly. “So full. Couldn’t move if I had to. All stretched out and heavy. Feel like a fucking whale.”
Phil looks up at the way Clint’s belly almost hides his face from this angle. He leans forward and licks his way over Clint’s balls so they’re hitching up and Clint’s squirming. “No! I can’t, can’t do it. Stop! S’too much!”
Phil leans back and kisses the inside of Clint’s knee. “Sorry baby. Not much longer. You’re gonna be so full. I’m gonna take care of you, ok?”
“Yes, yeah,” Clint says, til the sounds he’s making devolve into nonsensical whimpers again. Lots of pleases and stops and mores, the single constant the way Clint clings on to Phil’s hand when he gives it.
The bag empties eventually and Phil presses his lips to Clint’s forehead before extricating his hand to pull out the tube and plug him up. Clint murmurs nonsense while Phil rolls him onto one side and spoons up behind him. “So good, baby, you took the whole thing. So proud of you, Clint,” he says softly into his hair. “Love you so much. So so good.”
“Too much,” Clint whispers in the tiniest voice. “Too much, Phil!”
He tries to sooth the panic away with promises it’s not too much, that Clint’s done so well and taken it all, keeping it all inside him where it belongs, brushing his fingers over Clint’s hair and soothing him with little kisses and touches so gentle Clint would laugh at him any other time.
Phil lets himself enjoy it a little while once Clint’s calmed down again, clinging onto one of the stuffed toys he’d bought after the last time, when Clint had done the same with a towel. He coos reassurances and drinks in the way Clint’s so pliant, his belly so full and round and warm. He doesn’t know why he likes this so much, doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to think about why Clint lets him do this to him, but he’s endlessly thankful that he does.
-
Later, once it’s all over, Clint’s body is mostly back to normal, he’s less needy and Phil’s less creeped out by himself, they make out on the bed for what seems like hours. Clint’s all squirmy and clingy still, and Phil takes as much as he can get of it, til Clint turns around and presses his ass against Phil’s crotch and asks so politely if Phil will fuck him. “Please,” he asks plaintively, as though it’s some great favour. “I’m really clean,” he promises, and it makes Phil laugh, pressing his forehead into Clint’s shoulder.
It’s no time at all before he’s sliding in, slick with lube Clint worked himself up with, rocking together til they’re flush. Clint wraps his arms over Phil’s, already tight around him, and Phil thinks of dovetail corners and jigsaw pieces, so perfectly slotted together as they move, a perfect union. When he comes, he sees colours, fireworks behind his eyelids, and Clint’s coming not long after, when Phil’s hand joins his where it feverishly works on his cock.
Afterwards, wrapped in each other's arms, Phil sighs contentedly, idly thinking that perhaps he did die when that spear pierced his chest, and this is some fucked up blissful pornographic heaven place, or a coma dream. He figures Clint’s already asleep, so when he looks up, Phil smiles and shakes his head. “I love you,” he says, because that’s true even if this is all an elaborate fantasy. “God, I love you too,” Clint says, the eye roll audible. He’s back to normal, Phil thinks, and that’s good too.