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It’s there in a padded envelope when Phil comes home, and the way Clint’s being all coy about it, it’s obviously a thing. Another thing. Phil smiles in bemusement as he pulls it out, turning towards the couch where Clint’s pretending to read a magazine.
“Don’t make me explain it,” Clint wheedles as Phil cocks an eyebrow and holds up the stethoscope.
“You don’t have to! But I need to know what I’m working with. I thought you hated doctors.”
Clint huffs and rolls his eyes. “I do hate ‘em,” he mumbles.
“What was that?” Phil asks, and comes over to sit beside him and gather Clint into his arms so he doesn’t have to look at him. Clint shifts and settles, pushing his heavy head up against Phil’s chin. “Tell me what you want, Clint,” he says soothingly, the stethoscope loosely held in his grip on Clint’s chest.
“Well,” Clint begins. “I have this.. ‘fantasy’-” the air quotes are palpable; for all these things they do together, Clint’s never really comfortable calling them what they are. Phil lets it slide. “-where I have to go to a doctor... and you know I hate doctors. I don’t... I don’t trust ‘em, you know? Never know when one’s gonna fill you with drugs or cut off your dick or something.”
“... I guess,” Phil replies, kissing the top of Clint’s head and letting him pull the stethoscope from his fingers. Clint goes on. “But I trust you. I think I’d like doctors if they were as nice to me as you are.”
Phil chuckles. “Do you mean ‘struck off’ nice or..?”
“I don’t know. Like... The doctor gives me what I need, you know. Cause he knows what I need. And he gives me it.”
“What you ‘need’, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of... prescriptions would he give, do you think?” Phil asks, running the fingers of one hand up along the short stubble on Clint’s jaw. He feels Clint smile before he turns to kiss his hand. “Probably... some ah... preventative measures. Negative reinforcement to uh.. make me take my medicine. Um. Internal exams? Maybe some positive reinforcement too.”
“Hmm...” Phil says. “Alright. Give me a day to figure it all out?”
Clint shifts so he’s turned over and can look at him properly, spread out mostly on top of him on the couch. He’s grinning infectiously. “A day?!”
Phil smiles down on him indulgently. “Too long? You need an emergency check up?”
Clint considers it for a moment and decides that it’d be best to wait for Phil to figure out all the ins and outs, that this’ll be a real scene, all planned out and not the silly little thing it could be if Phil wasn’t into it. But Phil’s always into it, pretty much. Anything to make Clint happy.
“Ok, appointment tomorrow then,” Clint answers, shifting up to steal a kiss before laying his weight on top of Phil. “I love you, you know,” he says off into the room. Phil pets his hair and smiles. “I love you too.”
-
They don’t see each other much til they come home, which is just as well really, since Clint’s been thinking about his ‘appointment’ all day. When he gets home, Phil’s up in their bedroom with the door closed and a note on it saying ‘do not disturb’ (take a shower and put on the gown, fill out the form). Clint laughs to himself and goes back to the living room, finding what looks like a hospital form on the coffee table that has spaces for ‘safeword preference’ and scales of one to ten for ‘naughtiness during past month’ and other ridiculous little details. He fills it all in and signs it with a flourish and a couple of tiny kisses.
There’s a papery hospital gown folded on top of the toilet when he goes for his shower. He washes up, taking the extra care to be sparklingly clean inside and out. He even brushes his teeth before putting the gown on. It’s odd, wearing a hospital gown and not having at least one black eye when he looks in the mirror. It’s even odder walking to their bedroom and knocking on the door in it, as though he’s in some drug-induced hallucination.
“Come in,” Phil says, and whatever Clint had been expecting when he opened the door it wasn’t quite this.
The bed’s the same bed they’ve always had, but it’s covered in that low grade medical paper stuff and the pillows and bedding are gone. There’s a wheely metal tray thing with all sorts of implements on it just behind where Phil’s standing in a white coat, the stethoscope round his neck and a blandly pleasant smile on his face. There are a couple of frames on the walls that look like fake (maybe) doctorates, and Clint can’t help but break into a broad grin. “Hi.”
“Hello, I’m Dr Coulson,” Phil says seriously. “Sit down, please.” He ushers towards the bed and takes the clipboard from Clint as he passes, hmm-ing as he reads through it. Clint bites his lips as he watches Phil, one hand on his chin as he skims through the form. “Aches, pains?” Phil asks, and Clint shakes his head. “No, sir. Doctor. I feel pretty good.”
Phil takes a pen from his pocket and marks something on the form, hmm-ing again. There’s a jar of tongue depressors on the tray and Clint reaches out to take one before Phil fixes him with a glare. “Excuse me, please don’t touch anything on the tray.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Clint laughs, but Phil just frowns and goes back to the form.
“It says here that your last physical was almost eighteen months ago.”
Clint shrugs. “It’s important to have regular checkups, young man.” Clint shrugs again and Phil marks something else down with a frown.
He picks up something from the tray and flicks a switch, at which point Clint realises it’s one of those ear torch magnifier things which Phil has to have stolen from medical. Phil calmly checks his ears before using one of the tongue depressors to look down his throat. He desperately wants to ask where the hell he got all this stuff, but Phil’s clearly taking his role too seriously for silly questions.
He puts down the clipboard and then sits next to Clint. “If you could just lay across my legs,” Phil says in businesslike tones. “Excuse me?” Clint asks, and Phil just looks at him. “It says on your form that you’ve not been in for a check up in quite some time. We practice positive and negative cognitive conditioning for our patients here.” He waits for Clint to lay himself over his knee, his ass naked beneath the thin flaps of the gown which Phil swiftly pushes up and out of the way.
“I must say, Mr. Barton, you do have very good skin.”
“Th-thanks?”
Phil rubs one hand slowly over his ass cheeks, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “One slap for each month you’ve missed,” he tells him, matter of fact, and Clint can’t even reply before there’s a short sharp slap against his ass. “Oh! Fuck!”
“Mr Barton, we don’t tolerate bad language here. I’ll have to start again.”
“Phil!”
Phil ignores him and slaps him again, leaning over to mark something off on the form before he does another. Clint manages not to swear, though he does cry out at a couple of them, Phil’s hand solid and sure in the strikes against his flesh. Clint likes being spanked; there’s something of the naughty boy being taught a lesson in it which rather thrills him, even more so when it’s under the guise of being corrective, when there’s some reason behind it no matter how pretend. Spanking on it’s own is fun, but spanking as a punishment, as something he has to take, to endure, that’s his favourite. So it’s no surprise that when Phil’s done, Clint’s hard against his leg.
“There,” Phil says, the hand now softly rubbing over reddened skin. “I trust you won’t leave such a lengthy break between visits next time?”
“No, sir. I mean no, Dr Coulson.”
“Good boy,” Phil says, maneuvering Clint so he can sit back up, wincing with the scratch of the paper on his sensitive ass.
There are some latex gloves on the tray that Phil puts on next, and Clint shivers as he imagines just what he’s going to do to him now. He’s never been so pleased to be in the company of someone in a white coat, and certainly never sported a boner that’s propped up the front of his hospital gown so much like a tent.
“Stand up for me?” Phil says, and it’s a relief to stop sitting on that stupid rough paper. The erection is even more obvious like this though, and Clint’s actually a little embarrassed at it. “Could you take off your gown, please?”
Clint does it easily, pulling it right off over his head and then placing it in Phil’s outstretched hand. Phil glances down at his dick and doesn’t mention the erection bobbing there eagerly. He reaches down with one gloved hand to cup Clint’s balls. “Cough,” he says, and Clint does it, feeling his balls hitch up. Phil lets his hand linger there a moment longer before taking it away to write something else down.
“Lay down on the bed, I need to check your prostate now,” Phil says, and Clint snickers as he goes, laying on his front with his arms crossed so he can turn back to watch Phil as he puts KY on his latex covered fingers. He barely looks at Clint and that somehow makes it better - that he’s being so unphased by Clint being naked and red-assed when his normal reaction to that is to grab Clint and not let go.
“Turn on your side and come closer to the edge, here,” Phil pats the edge of the bed. Clint hitches his legs up so he’s in something of a fetal position with his ass right next to Phil and he knows what’s coming but it’s still a shock when a cold wet finger brushes over his hole. “Just relax,” Phil says, gently pushing in. After a moment of letting Clint get used to it, he pulls out and then there are two fingers brushing at his entrance before slipping in, deeper this time and then rubbing over his prostate. Clint huffs a little through his nose because it’s such an odd mix of hot - Phil with his fingers in his ass - and not hot - a doctor doing things to him - but his dick pays it no mind, getting impossibly harder as Phil thoroughly pokes and prods.
“I’m gonna need a better look,” Clint hears before Phil gets up and is gone, back to the tray where he’s picking up something that Clint can’t make out at first, the way it’s silhouetted against the light coming in through the window. He thinks it’s some sort of dildo but then his perception shifts when he realises what it is. “Is that a speculum?”
Phil presses something up and down and it widens before going back to the thin length that it was. “Hmm,” he replies as though almost bored with how mundane the object is. He lubes that up with jelly before returning to his position behind Clint, pressing in his fingers again before the colder, harder pressure of the speculum is pressing in instead.
Once it’s in, Phil lets it sit for a moment, brushing a hand down Clint’s thigh in long soothing strokes. Clint’s never done anything like this before, never had someone inspecting him so thoroughly or with such care. His ass is still a little sore from the spanking but the soft, gentle caresses Phil gives it feel like a soothing balm. “You’re doing very well, Clint,” Phil says in his best unphased Doctor voice. He doesn’t sound nearly as wrecked as Clint’s sure he has to be. Clint’s about to ask to see him but there’s the barest pressure and something clicks, and then another click and even more pressure as his hole is widened by the speculum.
“D-Doctor?”
“We’re just going to open you up a little so we can see. Are you alright? Do you have any pain?”
Clint shakes his head and then nods before laughing at himself. “I’m fine. I’m good. No pain.”
“Good,” Phil replies after a couple more clicks. “I just need to see how wide you can go.”
Clint whimpers against the scratchy paper and wishes there were pillows for him to hide his face in. “Five more clicks and we’ll see about some positive conditioning,” Phil murmurs as if to himself. Clint’s not even sure what he means but he thinks it sounds good. He wills himself to relax and take what the good doctor’s doing, ever trusting of Phil’s ministrations. There are a few more clicks and the pressure feels immense, like someone could drive a freight train right in there without touching the sides. “H-how big?” Clint asks, cause he’s always been one for testing his limits. “Oh, an inch, inch and a half,” Phil replies conversationally. “Is that all?” Clint can’t help himself from replying. That’s barely the width of Phil’s cock. He’s just getting all lost in his own head, the strangeness of it. There are a few more Clicks and then Phil’s standing and coming back around. “You’re alright to lie on your back, if you’d like,” he says. “Just keep your knees hitched up.”
Clint swallows and nods before gingerly twisting his body onto his back right at the edge of the bed. Phil kneels on the opposite side and helps pull him towards the middle before moving to kneel - still fully dressed - between Clint’s legs. Studiously, he leans down as though to get a better look before taking Clint’s cock in his mouth and sucking experimentally. Clint gasps as he does it and then gasps again when Phil reaches inside him and presses on his prostate. He doesn’t even feel anything til he feels it, held open and exposed like he is. Phil hums around Clint’s cock and does it again, one hand inside Clint and the other pressed against the seam of his own pants. It’s impossibly hot, the cold of the stethoscope pressing against the inside of Clint’s thigh as it lays forgotten around Phil’s neck.
Phil cranks the speculum wider still, working his fingers over the knot of nerves inside him as he hollows his cheeks and sucks him even harder. Clint wraps his hands around the backs of his knees and holds them up, submits to this strange world of pleasure Phil’s treating him to. Taking care of him, Clint thinks. Giving him what he needs.
He pulls off and studies Clint’s ass, rubbing tiny circles on his prostate and clicking another couple of times. “Can I see?” Clint blurts, and he tries to cover it up but Phil smiles and leans back to grab another thing off the tray. It’s a mirror, which he holds and then angles so Clint can see where he’s being held open. It’s a good two inches wide now, maybe more, and as he watches, Phil clicks it again. “Shit,” he breathes, and then apologises for his bad language. “It’s ok, I understand,” Phil tells him. “You’re really doing so well, Clint. So patient.”
As Clint watches, Phil puts two fingers inside him and hits his prostate again. “There’s a new thing I want to try,” Phil says as he leans back to the tray to put the mirror back. He comes back with a long thin vibrator and Clint whimpers when he turns it on, the vibrations so fast they’re a high pitched buzz. Phil puts it inside him and then his vision whites out when he presses it against the bundle of nerves. Before Clint says anything else Phil does it again, sliding it back and forth and making him see stars.
Clint’s just getting into the rhythm of it when Phil pulls it out and looks at him. “Do you think you could orgasm just from this?” he asks, and Clint nods and whimpers back. “That’s very interesting,” he says, turning the thing off instead of doing it some more. “Something to follow up on in our next consultation.”
In frustration, Clint whines and jerks his body uselessly. He’s not tied up, it wouldn’t take much of an effort to just grab the thing and put it back, finish himself off, but he doesn’t, he just listens to Phil crank that thing a couple more times and suck his cock again.
“Mr. Phil. Sir. Doctor. Daddy. Fuck- Coulson!” Clint settles on, and Phil stops tormenting him to look up again, still sucking on the tip of his dick. “Um. I’m. I’ll totally come if you keep doing this stuff,” Clint tells him helplessly. Phil grins with his devilish eyes and goes back to what he was doing, working up and down on Clint’s cock and sliding his fingers around inside him.
Clint can’t help but start to move a little, rubbing himself over Phil’s fingers just the tiniest amount. It’s heaven, and he lets himself start to float away on his impending orgasm, letting go cause he knows Phil’s gonna make him come any second, there’s no need to even concentrate on it. And then that thing is suddenly back there, buzzing inside him and he jerks wildly as he comes, dimly aware of the thing buzzing sharply against the plastic of the speculum til it stops and he’s jerking uselessly as he comes right into Phil’s sucking mouth.
When he’s re-entered the earth’s atmosphere, Clint looks down to see Phil lick his lips and swallow, which really isn’t fair at all. His eyes look like fire, taking in everything that he’s done to Clint, how completely wrung out he’s made him, and Clint’s head hits the mattress with a thunk.
“That was. Thorough,” Clint says at last, glancing back down to where Phil’s still kneeling between his legs.
“Good thorough?” Phil asks, and Clint laughs as he nods yes. Phil presses a small kiss to the inside of his knee and tries to surreptitiously adjust himself but Clint catches him doing it. “Is there anything I can do for you, Doctor?”
“Um,” Phil swallows, “I still need to uh. There’s a. Uh, new... medical procedure...” Clint grins before biting his lips to nod and look serious. “Your insurance covers it.”
“Whatever you think is best, Doctor.”
The pressure on Clint’s asshole is swiftly reduced and then the speculum is gone, Phil’s off the bed and he’s pulling his cock out of his pants and spreading KY on it. Clint’s already come, so it feels strange with how loose he feels as Phil pushes into him again, but it still feels good as he fucks him slowly at first but swiftly picking up speed. The stethoscope dangles around his neck til Clint reaches for it and slips it off, putting it on so he can press the end of it to Phil’s chest. Phil moves so it’s easier, and Clint listens to his heartbeat thumping faster and faster as he fucks him, til it’s racing and loud in Clint’s ears. Phil comes with a gasp, fritzing out on top of him before Clint pulls him even closer and wraps his arms around him, the stethoscope trapped between them still playing Clint the sound of Phil’s heart.
With a heavy breath, Phil slumps off of Clint, slipping out of him wetly and laying beside him. Clint looks at him, turning onto his side to move his hand and listen some more to Phil’s amazing heart. Phil huffs a laugh at him and wipes his forehead, taking another deep breath. “What’s the prognosis?” Clint asks, and they share lazy, easy grins.
“Terminally sexy,” Phil answers, and they laugh together as Phil moves to wrap Clint up in his arms.