It all starts with Tony. Of course it does; he's Tony fucking Stark. Everything starts with him. In fact, it starts one night when he's maudlin and pissed off about the whole Pepper thing. It's been a few months now since she sat him down and told him this wasn't the life she wanted. That they could never have that life together, and couldn't they just be friends? He'd shouted, “What?” before getting a hold of himself, and Pepper had started crying.
And Tony may be a selfish asshole, but he could never stand to see Pepper cry, and instead of shouting about how nobody dumps him – which is what he wanted to do – he put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head and told her it would be okay. They could be friends. He'd still love her, but in a friendly capacity.
It broke his heart for a while, but now, a few months later, he's mainly maudlin and pissed off. Who will he sleep with without having to kick them out the next morning? Who will smile at him over breakfast, who is going to tell him when he's doing something stupid and not work-related? Why can he never make these things work?
So Tony grabs a bottle of perversely expensive whisky and heads for the roof terrace of his perversely expensive family home, which has been expropriated by the Avengers as a sort of live-in HQ. Everyone's there, even Thor – the Asgardians are very appreciative of luxury and of camaraderie, and whatever else might be said about Stark Mansion, it is full of luxury and camaraderie these days. It makes Tony feel a little less lonely.
Up on the roof, he sighs deeply and expects to hear only the roar of traffic as he opens the bottle. What he does not expect to hear is Natasha's voice saying, “What, I can't even have the roof to myself now?”
It's his roof, so Tony just stares at her. Had she been anyone else than the Black Widow, he would have said something derisive, but considering she could crush his head between her thighs if she wanted to, he just stares, trying to make his stare convey a sense of indignation.
“It's bad enough that I have to be down there with all you guys all day long,” Natasha says, striding over to Tony and grabbing the bottle, taking a long swallow from it. “But now you come up here, too?”
“Uh,” Tony says, not sure what to say for fear of her deadly thighs. “Bad day?”
“It's just so frustrating,” she says, apparently taking his hesitant enquiry as an invitation. “Do you have any idea how long it's been for me? They all look at me and they think, Hot stuff! But then they get to know me and they get all scared. Is it too much to ask for to just have a guy come up to me and say, You're very pretty? Because I am, I'm so pretty!” She drinks some more.
“You are,” Tony says wholeheartedly, because that's not even up for discussion. She's beautiful.
“But they're all either scared or they just see me as an agent. A sexless agent,” she says, taking yet another swig. “It's so frustrating! I mean, I'm just a woman! I want to feel wanted, like every other woman!”
Tony accepts the bottle when she thrusts it back at him – not that he needs more than what he's already had. “I get what you're saying. Totally, you're so right. And can I just say, that if I wasn't afraid you'd slay me right after – or worse, during – sex, I'd be sexing you up right now. Honest.”
Natasha looks up at him, eyes narrowed in assessment, and then suddenly smiles. And Tony just as suddenly understands why men constantly die at her feet, because yeah, if he didn't know about the whole Black Widow thing and she levelled that flash of teeth at him? He would be all over her in a hot second.
“You would? You would! Great! I swear, I won't kill you, unless you're completely worthless in bed.”
And then she's climbing him like a tree. And Tony can't believe his luck, because what man could resist that? He knows he's not worthless in bed, she won't have any excuse to kill him. So he kisses her back, and even though he's still kind of scared of her deathly thighs, he can't voice any sort of protest. Especially not when she shoves her hand down his sweatpants and fists his dick with a grip that brooks no refusal.
Natasha is fantastic. She pulls him over to the wall – by his dick – and then pushes his pants and shorts down in one firm motion. She whispers in his ear that it's been so long, and all she wants is a good, hard fuck, and Tony nearly loses his mind.
He helps her get her shorts off. She's wearing a huge old t-shirt and, get this, a pair of Clint's shorts. Tony notices she's only hiding a single knife on her person, on a thigh strap, and holy shit, that means she feels safe in his house, which means she likes it here and that's more pleasing to Tony than anything right now.
She's not wearing anything underneath the shirt and shorts, and Tony hoists her up and fucks her against the wall, both of them half-dressed and smelling slightly of whisky. Her fingers find a ledge over her head and she uses that tiny purchase to lift and rock herself on him, and Tony groans long and loud in the New York night. Her nipples are stiff through the shirt, rubbing against Tony's bare chest, because she insisted on removing his shirt.
The arc reactor glows brightly and by its light Tony can see her euphoric look as he fucks her. He asks her in bitten off words what she likes, what she wants, and she gasps that she wants him to fuck her until he comes inside her. Tony does her one better and fucks her until he comes, then drops to his knees and buries his face between her deadly thighs to lick his own taste off her.
She screams things in Russian at the top of her voice when she comes, shapely legs quivering where they're hooked over his shoulders. Tony keeps at it until she moans and tells him to stop, stop, she can't do more than three successive orgasms or she'll pass out.
The next morning isn't awkward at all, which makes Tony feel awesome. Natasha smiles at him over her morning cup of coffee; a small, secretive smile that is really only a tiny quirk of her lips. He grins back at her, but by then she's already talking to Clint about the sparring session he promised her and how he's going to get his ass handed to him if he doesn't stop acting like a gentleman.
Tony decides right then and there that Natasha is the only person in the house even more awesome than himself.
When Clint shows up in the workshop a few days after that, it really isn't much of a surprise. Tony always knew he and Natasha had some special bond or whatever; he thinks they may have been dating at some time. So it's not really surprising when Clint shows up to hassle him about pure intentions and blah blah blah.
Tony tells Clint all he wants is to get laid and find some comfort, and that Natasha and he are perfectly clear on that. Clint shrugs and seems to accept this, then turns to leave, hesitates, and turns back to blurt, “Are you really that good?”
Tony grins and knows he's got another window right there. “Sure I am. Want a sample of the awesome Stark sexual prowess?”
Clint glares and seems about to leave again, but Tony tosses his head in a come-here-then gesture. When Clint is close enough, Tony turns them around and pushes Clint up against his workbench before getting to his knees, wishing he'd thought to install some pillows or something here so the floor wouldn't be so hard.
“Jarvis, secure the door and close the blinds,” Tony says. “Absolutely no entry for the next fifteen minutes.”
Then he yanks Clint's belt open and his trousers down, and though it's been a good long while since he did this with a guy, he knows how to suck a dick. Tony bobs his head enthusiastically until Clint's knuckles are white on the tabletop edge, and then skilful engineer's fingers find the archer's balls and Clint just loses it, fucking forwards into Tony's mouth with a strangled groan.
He doesn't taste as good as Natasha, but hey, it's Hawkeye's come. Tony would have swallowed every last drop if it had been burning acid. He likes Clint.
“Jesus fuck,” Clint grits out, and Tony feels that only one of those words is an appropriate expression of what he needs right now.
“Any chance of a Tony fuck instead?” he asks, but Clint seems half asleep already and Tony knows with a man's understanding that what Clint wants now is a smoke and a nap. Maybe later, he thinks wistfully, and gets to his feet.
“Hey, you really are that good,” Clint sighs tiredly. “How about...”
“Later, man,” Tony says easily, patting Clint on the shoulder. “You'll owe me one.”
Clint laughs tiredly and does his trousers back up, then shrugs his shoulders awkwardly and leaves the workshop. Tony's glad he told Jarvis to seal the door for fifteen minutes, because as soon as Clint is outside he gives up all pretence at being unaffected and shoves a hand down his own pants. He jerks his own cock, hastily and desperately, until he comes with a stifled groan and his whole body curls forwards.
“Butterfingers, get me a tissue or something, would you?” he sighs once the the jolts of pleasure have stopped running through his body. Butterfingers whirs happily and complies, and Tony grins as he cleans himself up. The whole sex and comfort thing seems to be taken care of.
The next day at breakfast, Clint is wearing a tiny smile that's almost exactly like Natasha's and which Tony is beginning to think of as the Stark Penis Brand. He immediately makes plans to see the SPB adorning the faces of all of his team, except Steve, of course, because Captain America is just too... Captain America. He probably considers himself a national emblem, and as such off limits to sexy times of any kind. Especially gay sexy times.
Also, if Steve ever got that giant stick out of his ass and loosened up enough for sexy times to happen, Tony's pretty sure they would be with some demure, virginal young woman with blond hair and blue eyes, not a forty-something playboy billionaire with a track record of nearly five hundred women and a damn arc reactor running his heart. And Tony refuses to admit, at least to anyone but his dick, that that makes him a little wistful. Because, come on. Captain America. Who wouldn't?
Well, Natasha and Clint, two down and two to go. Tony isn't really surprised when Clint comes around, and the only surprise about Natasha is that he's still alive and not neutered when he wakes up the next morning. But with Thor, yeah, that's a bit of a surprise, because damn, the Norse god of thunder!
Actually, Thor initially seeks Tony out to express his concern that Tony is “diminishing the manliness” of his team mates. When Tony absolutely does not understand what Thor is talking about, and tells him as much, Thor frowns in concern and puts a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder as if about to tell him that someone has cancer.
“When a man subjects another to his carnal desires, he dishonours his bedmate,” Thor says gravely.
Tony doesn't know where to start, and is once again tempted to shout, “What?” But, he reminds himself, Asgardiand standards of morality. Not exactly modern.
“Yeah, Thor, being gay – being bisexual, liking both men and women – is not illegal anymore,” he says, trying not to bristle. “Everyone is allowed to like whomever they want here in Midgard.”
“No, friend Tony, that is not what I meant,” Thor says, clapping his other hand onto Tony's other shoulder as well. Tony hopes his knees won't buckle under the strain. “It is not the act of physical union that is disgraceful, it is the act of submitting to another man. A man who submits to another's will without concern for his own honour, is not a man.”
Tony goggles at the big, blond man who is shaking his head sadly. “And this is what you think I did to Clint? You think I took away his manhood by forcing him to bend over for me?”
Thor looks a little shamefaced. “I did not think he did it to you.”
Tony can feel a grin coming on. This may be just what he's been waiting for. “You know what, big guy, you have it all wrong. I didn't force anybody, because sex between two guys isn't about submitting. Clint could give as good as he got if I fucked him.”
Thor doesn't look as if he understood everything, but his frown clears up a little. “Not about submitting? How is this possible? Surely, when I take a woman, it is a matter of submission. How would I submit to her?”
Tony barely manages to keep his grin in check. “How about a practical demonstration?”
Thor's whole face lights up. “Gladly! I am always eager to learn more of Midgardian ways.”
Tony leads Thor back to his own bedroom, because even though he's seriously horny for the demigod, he's not about to be fucked right in the hallway. And Tony hasn't been fucked since he was in his twenties, and he suspects Thor is packing a bit of a punch underneath that armour, and he wants that experience to be as private as possible.
Once he's ordered Jarvis to lock the door, Tony tells Thor to get naked and lie down on the bed, a little worried that Thor will take offence to this. But the demigod just strips efficiently and stretches comfortably on Tony's gigantic bed, seemingly having absolutely no issues with nakedness. Tony strips himself and goes to the chest of drawers in the corner where he keeps assorted sexy accessories. He gets a bottle of lube – also perversely expensive – and goes to stand by the bed, looking down at Thor.
“Wow. I see you're wielding more than one big hammer, huh?” Tony says, unable to stop staring at what can justly be classified as a gigantic cock. Tony thinks getting to ride that disco stick would actually be worth experiencing death by Mjolnir tomorrow morning.
“I do not understand you, friend Tony,” Thor says, looking confused. “Mjolnir is the only hammer I wield.”
“Never mind,” Tony grins, throwing the bottle of lube onto the bed and climbing on to follow it. “You know we're naked in the same bed in order to have sex, right?”
“I suspected as much when you divested yourself of your garments,” Thor said, looking with interest at Tony. “And you will show me how a man can fornicate with another without shaming either of them?”
“Definitely,” Tony said with a laugh. “You just make sure I don't shame you, okay, and I'll make sure shame is nowhere in my ballpark, either. I'll show you how manly a guy can be with a dick up his ass.”
As he's explaining this to Thor, Tony squeezes a good handful of lube into his palm. Thor lies completely still as Tony smears the lube between both hands, but the thunder god does utter a small gasp when Tony grasps his dick – his huge, huge dick – and starts working it as well as he can with only one hand. The other hand is very busy prepping Tony's ass with all the dexterity of the country's best engineer.
“Tony,” Thor gasps, noticing what Tony is doing. “I would not -”
“Okay, it's hammer time,” Tony says, unable to resist the joke. “Shut up and lie still, Thor.”
He straddles Thor's hips, and holy fuck, he's actually about to ride Thor's cock, this shit is fucking amazing! Tony grins down at the shocked face of the blond demigod underneath him and begins to push down, one hand bent awkwardly behind him to hold Mjolnir 2.0 steady.
“Tony,” Thor rumbles again, this time with a dark smouldering glint in his eyes. “I think I have been foolish. There is truly no shame in such a union. You honour me with the generous gift of your body. Your pleasure -”
“Shut up!” Tony moans, because that deep, rumbling voice is about to fire his brain to bits. That, and Thor's trouser hammer is nudging against his prostate and he'd completely forgotten how awesome that can feel. How did he ever forget how awesome that feels? He braces his hands roughly on Thor's midriff and begins moving.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, this is completely awesome, and Tony knows his mouth is hanging open and he just can't believe he hasn't done this before! Thor's eyes are wide and blue beneath him, and before long, Thor is working with him and thrusting up into Tony's bucking hips, driving little shocks of pain-tinged pleasure through Tony's body.
“Christ,” Tony pants, and grasps his own dick and strokes until he can feel orgasm tingling at the base of his spine. With a few more strokes, he's coming all over Thor's stomach and shouting meaningless words of pleasure. Thor hisses through his teeth, presumably at the feeling of Tony's ass tightening around him, and his hands come up to grip Tony's hips hard enough to leave bruises. Oh, God, Tony hopes there'll be bruises.
“I will show you the prowess of an Asgardian prince,” Thor grins up at him, then rolls them so that Tony's on his back and whoa! How did the roof suddenly switch places with the floor?
“Hot damn,” Tony says, and that's all he has time for before Thor is fucking his brains loose in his skull and words are beyond him.
When he limps into the kitchen the next morning, Tony is grinning from ear to ear. And there, at the breakfast table, sit Natasha, Clint and Thor – all three with the Stark Penis Brand (trademark) smile on their faces. Winking at them, Tony hobbles over to the cupboard over the sink and finds himself a mug for coffee.
Fucking awesome morning so far, Tony decides. What can he possibly do to make it better? Maybe he could persuade someone to give him a massage to work out the strain his legs and back took last night? But just as he considers asking Natasha (true to her word, she hasn't killed him yet), Bruce comes into the kitchen looking all zen and relaxed, and Tony realizes he won't be the complete team slut before he's fucked Bruce, too. Or let Bruce fuck him; Thor really opened his eyes to some awesome new things last night!
Okay, so it shouldn't be a surprise when Natasha comes to ask him about Thor later. Just because she's a girl, doesn't mean she isn't as much of a slut as he is. But it's just that Tony thought he was the only man whore around, and suddenly there seems to be more of those in the making – and even a girl whore, too!
“So, the god of thunder,” Natasha says, trying to sound casual, Tony can tell. He can also see the way her pupils dilate, and not even the Black Widow can fake arousal like that. “How... how was he?”
“What, I'm not enough for you?” Tony says, trying to sound hurt and failing a little.
Natasha almost smiles and pinches his cheek. “Over a week, Tony. You're good, don't get me wrong, but you're not good enough to last me for more than a week when I know there are other guys apparently as willing as you to fuck around. Come on, tell me. How good is he?”
Tony tries to be affronted for a few seconds, but it doesn't work, so he just breaks into a huge grin and tells her, “Let's just say I'll let him swing that hammer at me anytime he wants!”
Natasha smiles, just a little, and casually informs him that she and Clint had sex again, too, and that it's really too bad if Tony gets to be the only one screwing all of his team mates. And because Tony gives her the kicked puppy-look at that, she leads him back to his own room, where the sheets still smell faintly of giant Asgardian, and gives him a full-body massage. With a happy ending.
Tony realises he loves her a little, then rolls over for a nap as she slips out the door, presumably to go find Thor. This day cannot possibly get any more awesome.
And Bruce, well, Bruce just seems like the logical conclusion to Tony's man-whoring. A few days later after Thor, Tony enters the living room to find Bruce sitting there, watching something mind-numbing on TV. Bruce usually does, for half an hour or so before bedtime. It helps him mellow out.
“Hey, Bruce, have you ever hulked out during sex?” Tony asks, because he may be horny and a little lonely (Natasha and Clint are off somewhere together and Thor is out exercising Mjolnir), but he's not stupid. He knows the Hulk would tear his head off during sex out of sheer excitement.
“Not the right emotions,” Bruce says, not phased at all by the question. “Unless someone properly scared me, I don't think I could muster up the stress necessary to transform. But just in case, I've been reading up on tantric sex.”
Tony is intrigued – and horny. Very, very horny. Because Bruce is just as smart as he is, and so very awesome. “You haven't gotten laid much since the radiation, then?”
Bruce snorts. “Not too much, no. Are you offering?”
Tony shrugs. “Not to brag, but, y'know. Everybody else has already had a go, I don't see why you shouldn't.”
Bruce looks up at Tony, really studying him, and grins a little. “Everybody? Even Steve?”
Tony rolls his eyes. “God, no. Stick, mud, you know how it is. But everybody else. Natasha, Clint, Thor. I'm sure they'll give you good references if you ask.”
“I'll take your word for it,” Bruce says with a smile, and gets off the couch. “Workshop?”
“Fuck yes,” Tony says, and leads the way down the stairs in companionable silence. He tells Jarvis to lock it up again, but this time just until they want to leave. He doesn't know how long this is going to take.
When he turns around, Bruce is right there behind him, looking at him calmly. “Can I see the arc reactor?”
“Sure,” Tony says, and removes his shirt. He knows exactly what Bruce is about, because they're so alike. It's never lonely, being with Bruce. And once the shirt is off, so is Bruce's carefully kept distance. He crowds right in, studying the reactor up close. Touching it. Caressing it.
“It's not... It doesn't conduct electricity, right?” Bruce says, sounding confident.
“Not outside the core, the protective lid is pretty tight,” Tony agrees.
Bruce licks the reactor, and Tony is hard in his pants just like that. Bruce removes his own shirt and is about to remove his glasses, but Tony stops him.
“Leave them on. So much hotter with the glasses,” he explains, and pretty soon he and Bruce are nearly naked, their trousers open and pushed down, their underwear rubbing together as they press against each other, just grinding.
“You're so smart,” Tony tells him with a grin. “You remind me of me.”
“Ditto,” Bruce says, laughing. “You know, I tried jerking off once, as the Hulk? As soon as I came, I transformed back. I think the endorphins overrode the radiation.”
“Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty,” Tony groans, and science has always been sexy to him, so it's no surprise at all that Bruce gets that, too. “Did you try the particle centrifuge toaster yet? It's in the kitchen, you should have a look at it.”
“I was wondering what that was,” Bruce murmurs into the skin of Tony's neck. “You really made that run on parts of an old physics lab?”
“Your old physics lab,” Tony clarifies. “It was in the box of things you didn't want to keep back at S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought it would amuse you.”
“You thought right,” Bruce tells him, then slides his hands down to palm Tony's ass though his shorts. Tony mirrors his movements. “You want to see if we can make the robot arm operate a sex toy?”
“That's kinky, Butterfingers isn't old enough for stuff like that,” Tony gasps, feeling their cloth-covered erections rubbing deliciously together. There isn't talking like this with any of the others, and he relishes in a partner that he doesn't immediately want to shut up. “Jarvis, are you getting this?”
“Recording every second, sir,” Jarvis says.
Bruce groans loudly and comes in his shorts, biting down hard on Tony's neck. Tony gasps at the feeling and presses harder against Bruce, chasing his own climax. When it happens, he yells Bruce's name and a few swear words, too.
Then Dummy douses them in fire extinguisher foam, and they both fall laughing to the floor, shorts wet and sticky and skin covered in white foam. Tony can't remember the last time he felt this good, this together with someone, and he thinks he might love Bruce a little, like he loves Natasha for giving him a massage when he needed it.
“You wanna do this again sometime?” Tony gasps, still chuckling a little and trying to rub foam out of his eyes.
“Definitely,” Bruce says, getting to his knees and ruffling his hair a little to get the foam out. “Hey, did you say Natasha was up for a bit of fun, too?”
“I'd ask nicely first,” Tony warns him, “but, yeah, she was pretty awesome about it. Then she told Clint, and he still owes me a blowjob, thanks for reminding me.”
“Sure,” Bruce shrugs, and they get to their feet and pull their pants back up.
And because Tony isn't ready to be alone just yet, he mentions that he has a gigantic shower in his en suite bathroom. “I can do equations in there, I had Jarvis upload most of my work to the shower walls.”
“You had me at equations,” Bruce says with a smile, and they head back up and off to Tony's room – and the best shower of Tony's life. It feels like he's come full circle, as if he's finally got the cake out of the oven, and though there's no icing on it, the cake is awesome all by itself.
The big surprise – the really big, mind-blowing and huge surprise – is Steve. Steve 'Captain America' Rogers, with his wholesome all-American grin and his jawline like chiselled marble and his rippling pectorals like something out of a porn movie, corners Tony in the kitchen just as Tony is about to make himself a pot of coffee and demands to know why he is being left out.
“Is there something wrong with me?” he asks sharply, and hell, Tony didn't even know Steve could do sharp.
“Uh, I suppose not,” Tony says hesitantly, still unsure what, exactly, Steve is upset about. “I mean, with the serum and all, you should be in perfect condition, huh?”
“No, I mean, with me,” Steve says, and his eyes are suddenly sad. It makes Tony want to hug him, because despite his urge to hump Steve's leg whenever he sees him, he does care for the guy, like he cares for all his team mates. As in, actually giving a damn about their feelings.
“Well, aside from your tendency to dress like a bore when you're off duty, I can't think of anything wrong with you,” Tony says guardedly. “I'll let you know if I come up with something.”
“So why won't you sleep with me?” Steve demands, and Tony chokes on his coffee.
“What?” he sputters.
“You sleep with everybody else,” Steve says accusingly, “I heard you tell Bruce. But I'm a, a stick in the mud. Is that it? You won't sleep with boring people?”
Tony has to sit down. He swears his legs are about to give out on him from sheer absurdity. “Well, I wouldn't sleep with boring people, that's why they're boring. I meant... I mean, I didn't think you'd want to. Morality and all that. Ethics, whatever. You weren't supposed to hear that anyway!”
“What, so just because I'm a good person, I'm not allowed to enjoy sex?” Steve accuses, glaring at Tony now.
Tony decides this is one of those windows, and he's not about to let it close on him. “Oh, you are. You definitely, definitely are. I just... I thought, with me being the resident man-whore and stuff, you'd be insulted. I took you for the romantic type.”
“Well, I was, once,” Steve admits, and his face softens a little. “A long time ago. But now... there's just us. You know?”
Tony knows exactly what he means. There used to be the hope of a normal life; there used to be Pepper and the company and fast cars and champagne for lunch. But now all of that's gone (though he still drinks a lot at lunch and has Happy drive his cars), and what's left is the Avengers. The team. These people, four of whom Tony is already fucking because it just feels so right.
“I know,” he says, softly, and Steve slumps against the counter behind him.
“I guess I just thought... you know, that we would share this,” he says, looking away, cheeks flaming red. “And I heard Natasha and Thor... well. It... it sounds like fun.”
Something niggles at the back of Tony's brain, and he suddenly catches it. “Wait, hang on... You never... ever?”
“A kiss,” Steve admits, rubbing at the back of his neck like some costume drama character. “I kissed a... well, two women. That's as far as I ever got. But I'll like it. I think I'll like it. And it doesn't seem right that the whole team is sharing this – everybody except me.”
Tony can't argue with that. If it had just been him, fucking his way through his team, then he would have been more than content to let it stay that way. But he knows for sure that Natasha is going through them all once a week (the Black Widow has a seriously scary appetite where sex is concerned), and Thor has – just the other day – gleefully declared to Clint that now he knows there is no shame in a union of men, Clint would be welcome in his bed any day.
In fact, the only person not having sex with the rest of them is Steve. Their captain. Who is so attractive it's a miracle Natasha hasn't forced him down on a bed and had her way with him ages ago. And here he is, standing slumped in the kitchen and thinking Tony doesn't find him attractive.
“You know what, you're so right,” Tony says, putting his mug firmly down. “My bad, Cap, I shouldn't have assumed anything. Would you like to fuck me as an apology?”
Steve chokes on his breath and stares wide-eyed at Tony. “What, now?”
“Unless you've got something better to do,” Tony says, shrugging. “I mean, I was just about to try and expand the circuits on the toaster so I can hook the waffle iron – anyway, I had a lot of unnecessary, boring, domestic stuff planned for tonight, so I'll be super easy to persuade.”
Steve's cheeks turn slowly brick red. “This is how you got the others into bed, isn't it?”
“Brutal honesty, Cap,” Tony says, clapping a friendly hand onto Steve's shoulder and guiding him out of the kitchen. “There's nothing like it. And while we're on the subject, you'll need to tell me exactly what and how you want it, because I've never deflowered a male virgin before.”
They get to Tony's room, and as soon as the door is bolted and locked, Steve turns to Tony with a look of resolution on his face. “Jarvis, can you record this?” he asks softly.
“As always, everything is stored to Mr. Stark's personal hard drive,” Jarvis' cool voice says.
Steve suddenly glares. “What, is that your... your...”
“Default setting,” Tony adds helpfully. “Yeah, but don't get your spandex in a twist, I have never once been hacked, and no video has ever been released onto the internet. It's purely for my personal enjoyment. I even delete it later if I don't look good in it.”
Steve looks confused, but then his face breaks into a sly grin and Tony knows the arc reactor is the only thing keeping his heart from skipping a beat or three.
“Well, make sure and get me a copy,” he says, and begins toeing off his shoes. “We should get undressed, right?”
“We should,” Tony agrees quickly, divesting himself of his t-shirt. “We most definitely should. So what do you want? Top or bottom?”
Steve looks confused again, but unbuttons his boring, navy shirt and takes it off. “Uh... Does that mean what end of the bed I'll want to be in?”
Tony grins, can't help himself. “Pitcher or catcher, Steve?”
Understanding dawns on Steve's face, and he blushes again. So, so red. Tony wants to lick all the red colour off his face.
“I've never done this before, and I don't want to hurt anyone,” Steve mutters, clearly uncomfortable. “You... you do the pitching.”
Tony strips faster than he's ever stripped in his life, helps Steve get his own clothes off, and pushes the other man down on the bed. Steve is just as amazing as Natasha was the first time, but in a completely different way. He lies quiet and patient on the bed, and when Tony hands him the lube he follows instructions until two of their fingers, together, are pushing into Steve's body.
Steve is amazing as he groans and arches and clenches on their fingers. He's amazing as Tony bites his nipple and he bucks with the sensation. He's amazing as Tony's mouth brings him to a swift orgasm, and he's amazing when Tony – half mad with needy, hot, greedy lust – climbs between his legs and starts pushing into him.
Steve is amazing when he proves his refractory period is also four times shorter than a normal man's and gets hard between their bodies while Tony is fucking into him for dear life. Tony grabs his leg at the knee and bends it roughly up, and Captain America cries out some very, very unwholesome words as he discovers what his prostate gland is for.
After that, it's a blur of pleasure and panting and groans and yes, yes, yes, fuck, Steve, yes! Tony comes like a small supernova, and Steve's eyes go wide as he feels Tony shudder with climax. Then Tony barely manages to hold himself up while he's jerking Steve off, quickly and without finesse because he needs him to come now, and when Steve comes again he whispers Tony's name hoarsely.
Tony knows he loves Steve, too, and with a long, deep kiss he rolls off him, landing on his back on the rumpled bed. Steve rolls to follow him and cuddles up, and Tony settles in for a nap even though it's only five in the afternoon. Who knew that deflowering Captain America would be so tiring? But the cake has been well and truly iced now, and Tony couldn't be happier.
So, Tony's come full circle now, having sexed his way through all his team mates. And he still likes all of them in the mornings, and he still wants them to stay at his place (which is such an awesome den of iniquity now, with all the sexy people bed-hopping through it), and he doesn't even mind that everyone else is fucking, too – he thinks it's strangely fair that everyone get to have sex.
After all, they're the Avengers. They need to stay loose for the job; they need to feel relaxed and well rested on their down-time. And they need to know that the team works well together despite any extra-curricular activities. Or perhaps the team works well because of the sex, because after Tony started fucking everyone, they seem to be more attuned to each others' needs and moods.
Tony swears his dick has magical powers. If only he could tell Fury that, maybe the director would stop nagging about Tony being a bad influence on the rest of the team.
But anyway, Tony's been fucking his team mates for a few weeks now and it just doesn't get old. He goes to Natasha if he wants to feel her soft curves against his own body, if he wants it wet and adventurous and slightly fear-tinged. He goes to Clint if he wants the bro-feeling, if he wants a quick fuck against a wall or a hand-job in the bathroom or a quick suck behind the gym during their morning exercise. He's got Thor for a good, hard fuck that leaves bruises and soreness all over his body, and he's got Bruce for the funny, easy sex that feels like a natural extension of their friendship. And if he wants it sweet, slow and intense, he's got Steve. Who always cuddles after.
Tony just hopes Steve keeps acting like a gentleman and never tells anyone about the cuddling, because even though Tony loves it, he doesn't want people to know. He's got a reputation to uphold.
The really good part is that Tony is pretty sure he loves them all. Actually loves them, like, feelings and shit. He doesn't love them like he did Pepper; with Pepper the feelings were like a raging bonfire that made him do stupid things and blame her afterwards, that consumed stuff, important stuff like his sanity and his schedule. But with the team, it's more like a constant glow of warmth just behind the arc reactor that doesn't even flicker, just remains calm and constant and reassuring.
And hell, Pepper would have a fit if she ever found out that what Tony Stark needed to settle down was a selection of five unreasonably attractive superheroes. But hey, he's Tony fucking Stark. Of course he'd never settle for anything less than everything he could possibly want.
So when Tony is headed to Thor's room one night and runs into Natasha just outside the thunder god's door, he bows gallantly and gestures towards the handle. “Ladies first.”
“Why, don't you like sharing?” she says, arching a challenging eyebrow at him.
“Fuck yes,” Tony says, and knocks on the door. “Thor? You want to fuck me while I fuck Natasha? Or maybe she's up for a spitroast?”
Thor yanks the door open so suddenly Tony flinches. “Friend Tony! Fair Natasha! The fates have willed this meeting, for I was about to roam the house in search of you!”
“Spitroast, right the fuck now,” Natasha demands, her voice uncharacteristically rough. She pushes her way inside Thor's room and Tony follows her.
So that ends up the best threesome Tony's ever had, of course. Then, a few days later, he overhears Steve, blushing and stammering, apologizing to Natasha for the night before. Natasha pinches the captain's cheek, smiling warmly at him, and tells him he did fine, he just needs more practice. Then Thor slaps Clint's ass right in front of everyone at breakfast, and Tony can't help the chuckle that escapes him.
Everyone is fucking everybody now, and Tony thinks nothing could please him more. At least, he thinks that until he walks into the kitchen late one night and sees Bruce lying on the kitchen table, with Clint fucking him and Natasha riding his face. On the kitchen table. Tony staggers to the counter so he has something to hold on to as he jerks off to the sight, and he doesn't know who comes first, him or Bruce.
Not even Steve's complaints about the sanitary hazard can stop Tony getting hard in his pants every time he eats at that table thereafter. Steve found out from Jarvis and blushingly begged his team mates to please refrain from indulging anywhere in the kitchen. Tony told him it was okay, they had sanitizers. Lots of them.
Steve hasn't quite been able to meet Natasha's eyes after that, so he keeps staring at her cleavage, which she finds hilarious.
Well, it's been a few weeks, and things are still amazingly good. So good, in fact, that TV night with the team isn't even awkward, despite the fact that they're all sitting in close vicinity to each other watching a scantily clad woman with swords scream and cut off heads.
Well, it's not awkward, but Tony's whole body is thrumming with energy, with an itch just beneath his skin. This scenario normally wouldn't have him this restless; it's TV night with the team, not like he has somewhere to be. But it's TV night with his lovers now, all five of them (and Tony still has trouble fathoming the sheer awesomeness sometimes), and they're all sitting so close.
Natasha's feet are in his lap, her head curled up against Bruce's stomach on the other end of the couch (and Tony is constantly amazed and intrigued by how quickly she relaxed and became okay with their whole ordeal). Clint is sprawling on a huge cushion on the floor in front of the couch, having his hair slowly ruffled by Natasha's hand. Thor is sitting in the armchair to Tony's right, occupying the thing like a throne, and Steve is straddling a straight-backed chair from the kitchen, leaning on the backrest and watching Xena the Warrior Princess with mild interest.
And Tony's fingers are itching to touch. To reach out and stroke, to close around a forearm, to slide into hair. He's so close to all the people he loves, and it's taking all his restraint to not start something right now. Then it occurs to his brilliant mind: why shouldn't he start something? Haven't they been fucking like rabid bunnies for a few weeks now?
“Hey, have you guys ever tried an orgy?” Tony asks, deciding to start something right the fuck now. “Who wants to have an orgy? I've never tried, but I'm sure it's awesome.”
“I do not understand you, friend Tony,” Thor says in confusion. “What is this... orgy of which you speak?”
“It's when a lot of people have sex in the same room,” Tony explains.
“Aha!” Thor booms appreciatively. “Yes, we have this custom also in Asgard. When the fallen warriors came to Valhalla, we would greet them with mead, meat and women, and we would revel until dawn. Many a time have I raised my glass to Loki's while a woman pleased me.”
“Okay, foregoing the incest for now,” Tony says, coughing a little, “Thor is obviously game. Natasha, any orgies to your name?”
“In the line of duty,” she says lazily. “I've had to go undercover at some, but I never participated. Same for Clint.”
“How do you know I never participated?” Clint asks slyly, but Natasha just yanks a little on his hair and murmurs something about watching him closely.
“I don't think I even need to answer that,” Bruce says, smiling a little ruefully. “Imagine the chaos if someone freaked me.”
“Steve, should we ask you just to make you feel included?” Tony asks with a grin. “Because I know the answer already.”
Steve, of course, is beet red and resolutely avoiding everyone's gaze. He shakes his head slowly. “Don't joke about things like that, Tony. We can't have an orgy.”
“Do I even look like I'm joking?” Tony asks Bruce. “Even a little bit?”
“I'm sure there's a no fraternization-policy in SHIELD,” Steve says sternly.
“Smashed like a personal enemy of the Hulk,” Tony parries. “By every single team member.”
“I haven't even had sex with all of you yet!” Steve pleads.
“What an excellent opportunity to do so,” Tony points out.
“There's only one woman and five men!” Steve insists.
“Lucky bitch,” Clint so very rightfully mentions.
“Fine, fine, have your orgy!” Steve yells, sounding more than a little panicky. “Just leave me out of it!”
“I have not yet had the privilege of assuming the position of bottom,” Thor booms, his grin turning a little scary. “Tony tells me it is very pleasurable. Perhaps one of my worthy friends will aid me in this endeavour? Tony, perhaps?”
The whole mood of the room changes suddenly, becomes something deeper. More real. More important. Tony notices all eyes swivelling to him as if on cue. He swallows hard to get his throat working again.
“While I would like that more than anything,” Tony begins, and fuck yes, he wants that, wants to spread Thor out and fuck him until the demigod becomes a whole lot less godly, “I don't think it's fair. I already got to single-handedly deflower Captain America. I can't have all the man-candy to myself.”
“I am not a prize at a carnival!” Steve objects. He is actually, literally hiding his face in his hands, and it's so red it's about to heat the room all on its own.
“Well, you are the most attractive human man I've ever met,” Tony tells him, “strictly aesthetically speaking.”
“I am?” Steve blurts out, looking pleased and horrified at the same time.
“Wait, hang on, Tony Stark is sharing? Being altruistic? What's going on?” Clint grins.
“Well, yes, I was trying to be an adult and play nice with others. But if you're all going to be like this, I might as well take Thor up on that offer and be the first to boldly go where no man has gone before. I mean, since you're all obviously too prudish to join in my orgy,” Tony says, trying not to sound too gleeful. He needs them to go for this bait.
“Fuck that, there will be no orgy on this team unless I'm part of it,” Clint protests, getting to his knees and turning to face Tony on the couch. He grins up at Natasha and adds, “Right, Tash?”
“Right,” she concurs, smiling languidly back at the archer. “Bruce, you're in, right?”
Bruce lifts a hand and runs it slowly, slowly, down her arm. “Definitely. If you eager bunnies can control yourselves. I don't want to hulk out and ruin the fun for everyone.”
“A size queen like Tash, she'll want you to,” Tony says, and earns himself a slap to the back of the head. He grins. Fuck yes. They're at least five people now, all they need is Steve and they'll have themselves an orgy.
Steve makes no move to indicate he's going to join in, but Tony isn't really worried. Steve will come around eventually, because come on, Tony Stark is about to throw an orgy. With six of the most attractive people alive. Tony knows Steve isn't that stupid.
“Well, I'm going to go get naked in my room, 'cause I have the biggest bed,” Tony says. “But first I'm going to get us drunk. No, wait, we should totally have the orgy in here, there's more space. I want a drink. Who wants a drink?”
He fixes everyone a drink and they all down it quickly, except Steve, who has still not moved from the chair. Tony figures the best way to start an orgy is to bring out the naked women, so he turns on Natasha and kisses her briefly, hands going to the hem of her shirt (one of Tony's really expensive ones, so hot). She kisses him back and lets him unbutton to his heart's content.
“How do you feel about letting Steve do body shots off you?” he murmurs against her lips.
“Fine, if I get to do them off Thor later,” she smiles.
“Clint, tequila,” Tony orders, pushing the shirt off Natasha's shoulders. She's wearing midnight blue lace underwear and Tony knows that bra is part of a matching set. His mouth goes a little dry.
“I'll get the lime,” Bruce says hastily, going for the kitchen.
Tony knows Bruce is smart enough to remember the salt as well, so he turns back to Natasha. She's pliant as he removes her sleep shorts (another pair of his, and he should tell her to stop stealing his clothes, only it's so hot) and finds more blue lace beneath them.
Bruce returns with shot glasses, lime wedges and a salt cellar. Tony fills shot glasses to the brim with the tequila Clint hands him, then drops to one knee to lick a stripe up Natasha's stomach. She squirms a little, ticklish. Tony rubs a little salt over the wet stripe, then gently wedges a shot glass between her breasts in the bra. He gets up and feeds her a lime which she holds gently between her teeth.
“Shotgun,” Clint says hoarsely.
“Hey, no fair, that's my saliva sticking the salt,” Tony complains, but his heart isn't in it. He moves out of the way and lets Clint have at it. When Clint gets to the lime, the kiss he and Natasha share is deep and languid.
“Prepare another,” Thor says hoarsely from the chair. “I wish to experience this Midgardian custom myself.”
Tony grins and nudges Clint out of the way, smearing salt again and refilling the shot glass. “Gentlemen, the bar is open.”
Natasha's eyes have gone lidded and dark, her cheeks very slightly flushed. She's looking at them all with open want in her eyes, and with her lips kiss-swollen and her skin salty she's beautiful. Natasha is always beautiful in a remote sort of way, but when she's naked with the team she's beautiful in a very real, very warm, very welcoming way.
Tony promptly decides he gets to go next, after Thor. Fuck Steve. Steve can wait.
“Our fair Natasha is looking lovelier than ever this eve,” Thor says as he joins them in the middle of the floor. He towers over Natasha, his hands enormous on her slender shoulders as he strokes lightly over her clavicle. “This becomes her.”
“What, being naked?” Tony asks. “Because believe me, big guy, you all look exponentially better naked. The only thing you should be allowed to wear in the house, is body paint.”
“You're objectifying us,” Bruce points out mildly, filling another shot glass. Thor is already taking the last one between his teeth and throwing his head back to down the contents before advancing on the lime.
“Well, you're all so supremely easily objectified,” Tony offers. “Did I mention the body paint? Yeah, okay, guys, new official rule: no clothing allowed in the house. I will provide big, fluffy white robes, for when we get company. At all other times nakedness is mandatory, body paint excluded.”
Thor is quite obviously hard in his pants after licking, drinking and eating his way up Natasha's body. Bruce is taking his place in front of the assassin, his eyes dark with a reflection of the need in her own. At the first touch of his tongue to her skin, Natasha moans and says something in Russian. Clint's answering groan makes it clear to Tony that whatever she said, it was dirty enough to make everybody follow Thor's example and get hard.
A noise behind him makes Tony turn around just in time to see Steve hiding his face in his hands again, slumped on his chair. His pants, loose and comfortable sweatpants (one pair of an endless supply to be found in Stark Mansion), are tenting in front like he's hidden half a sofa cushion in there.
Tony so, so wants to fuck him. Preferably right on that chair. But, being the sensible and caring adult partner that he is, he figures Steve might need some gentle guidance before fucking anyone right now. So he leaves Bruce, Clint and Thor to forego the tequila entirely in favour of licking every inch of skin Natasha has, and goes over to Steve. Tony places a hand on the captain's shoulder and leans in.
“Hey,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the skin behind Steve's ear. “It's okay. You want this, I can see that. We all want this. There's nothing wrong with that. Let go a little, yeah?”
“It's just...” Steve raises his head, looking sideways up at Tony. He looks mortified and lusty at once, which is a really great look on him. “I've never done anything like this. I never even had sex before you. This is so overwhelming.”
“Which is why you need to stop thinking and just do what you feel like,” Tony urges him. “Seriously, Rogers, you think too much. Don't you like having sex with me?”
“Of course I do!” Steve says vehemently.
“And you had a pretty good time with Natasha, yes?”
Steve blushes red to the roots of his fluffy, blond hair. “She's amazing.”
Tony holds out his hands like, There you go. “Well, let's start right there, then. Want to have sex with us again?”
Steve smiles a little and gets to his feet. “Yeah, okay. Let's do that.”
Tony grins. “Let's. And Steve, relax. You're pretty amazing yourself, once you get going. It'll be fine.”
Steve surges forwards and kisses him like an avalanche of needy, manly superhero, and Tony groans into his mouth and kisses back. This orgy is already the best experience of his life, and it hasn't even started properly yet. He wraps his arms around Steve's shoulders and presses their bodies together. Mmm, Captain America's pecs. Awesome.
There's more swearing in Russian, louder this time, and Tony slowly detaches himself from Steve to see what the others are up to. When he sees it, he swears a little, himself, and grabs onto Steve's arm to keep steady against the sudden rush of blood from his brain to his cock.
Natasha is being held up by Bruce, who is standing right behind her and kissing her neck with so much tongue Tony can hear it three feet away. She is leaning back against him, both hands behind his neck, holding on for dear life if the tremors racking her legs are any indication. Her left leg is resting on Thor's massive shoulder; the thunder god is kneeling on the floor in front of her and his face is buried between her legs. His hands are steadying her, too, and the two men look like they're holding her up and doing a far better job at it than her own legs.
She moans again and bucks against Thor's face. Tony thinks he might come before she does, if he doesn't focus on something other than the sight of the trio in the middle of his living room floor.
“Hey, is it true you never had sex before Tony raped you?” Clint asks, materializing in the door to the hallway. It's obvious he's talking to Steve. He's holding stuff, stuff that Tony is quite sure came out of his sexy chest of drawers.
“Tony didn't... He'd never -” Steve gasps, horrified.
“It was just a figure of speech,” Clint grins, winking at Tony. “But it's true? No sex ever, and then Tony happened?”
“Uh, yeah,” Steve mutters. “I was... waiting for the right woman, I guess. I never really knew about all the other... options. Not from experience, anyway.”
“Education, that's what I'm all about,” Tony says, eyes now flicking between Steve, the sexy accessories and Natasha's open, gasping mouth. She's close, he can tell just from looking at her. He wants to see it. Needs it.
“Cap, c'mere,” he murmurs, waving at Steve. Steve obeys. “Watch her face. See how good this is for her.”
Just as Steve's hungry gaze fastens on Natasha, Tony shoves a hand down the captain's pants and grabs his dick. It's thick, hot proof of how much Steve wants this, and it makes Tony want him even more. He begins to stroke, coming around Steve to stand right behind him, leaning his forehead between Steve's shoulder blades.
“Tony,” Steve groans, “don't, I – I'll come too soon!”
“Four times faster metabolism, refractory period to match,” Tony says, squeezing a little harder. Steve cries out. “You'll be good to go again in time to fuck Thor after they're done with Natasha.”
So Steve gives in, coming into Tony's hand and groaning like he's dying. Clint watches, eyes wide, as Steve's body spasms and Tony keeps jerking him through it.
“God, Tony, you're amazing,” Steve breathes. Tony lets go of his dick, but remains pressed up against his back. “I never thought it would feel like this. Not this good.”
“Well, you never had sex, of course you didn't know, but I'm disappointed you didn't instinctively know I would be more awesome at it than anyone else,” Tony mumbles into Steve's shoulders. He's so hard right now, and he's wondering if he could get hard again more than once. He wants to have sex with everyone at the same time, but he honestly doesn't know if he'll manage more than three in one night.
“Well, you haven't tried us all yet,” Clint says with a winning smile. “Don't pronounce Tony the winner just yet.”
Steve makes a small whimpering noise and shudders a little in Tony's arms. Tony releases him and moves around to watch Natasha, who just finished screaming, come down from her high. Thor gets to his feet and kisses her deeply, and Tony almost envies Bruce for being so close to them – until he sees the pure desperation in Bruce's eyes and remembers that the man needs daily meditation just to not hulk out if he stubs his toe.
“Bruce, come over here,” Tony says. “Steve wants to give you a hand job.”
Steve blushes again, despite the fact that everyone has been having sex around them for a good few minutes now. “I didn't – I mean, I do, but only if...”
“Sure you do, you need the practice,” Tony says with a grin. Then he back-pedals when he sees the hurt look on Steve's face. “No, I mean, you're great with me. But you'll want to practice with lots of different partners, otherwise you'll get predictable after a while.”
“Don't mind Tony, Cap, he's just being his usual self,” Bruce says, advancing on Steve with a strangely predatory look in his eyes. “But after feeling Natasha buck naked and wriggling right through my clothes, I could really use some relief.”
Steve accepts Bruce's kiss readily when the shorter man presses their lips together, and Tony can see the open need in his eyes when Steve's hands find the scientist's ass.
“Naked,” Tony suggests helpfully. “Now.”
Tony and Bruce efficiently strip both Steve and themselves. Clint joins in the fray and gets naked, and just as they're all about to start in on each other in a tangle of limbs, a hand on his shoulder stops Tony. He looks around to find Thor, arousal written all over him and bared to his waist.
“I grow impatient, friend Tony,” he says, and his voice is demanding and urgent. “I wish to experience the union of men.”
“You mean you got so horny going down on Natasha you can't wait to be fucked,” Tony says, and the idea makes him harder than he thought was possible. “Uh, should I ask -”
“No, it shall be you,” Thor says, pulling Tony a little closer. “You are responsible for changing the bonds of our unit from mere camaraderie to this deepest of connections. The honour must be yours.”
Tony is gob-smacked for all of two seconds, and then he lets fairness be damned and leans in to shove his tongue in Thor's mouth a lot more forcibly than necessary. No way in hell is he passing this up. The others can have their turn later. Right now, he is going to bend Thor over something convenient, like Steve, and fuck him stupid.
Vaguely aware that Bruce and Steve are making interesting noises right behind him, Tony tugs on Thor's arm until they reach the couch. He breaks the kiss and gasps, “Want to bend over the couch for me?”
Thor doesn't even flinch, but gets behind the couch and bends over the backrest like he's done nothing else his entire life. Tony moves in behind him and opens the other man's trousers, pushes them down, presses in close. Fuck, yes. This? This is going to be fucking epic.
“Clint,” Tony calls, “throw me some lube, would you?”
He doesn't get a reply, and when he raises his head to look it's clear why: Clint, Bruce and Steve are working hard to complete an Eiffel tower. Steve, the lucky bastard, is being prepped to be the bridge; he's on hands and knees and moaning with Bruce's fingers deep in his ass. Tony groans and bucks his hips against Thor's, feeling skin and desperately needing more.
Fortunately, Natasha comes to the rescue. She presses up against his back, as naked as he is, and slides a slender arm around his chest, stroking playfully over the arc reactor. She dangles a small sachet in front of his eyes. “Will this suffice?”
“Fuck!” Tony grits out, grabbing for the lube. “What happened to my good stuff?”
“Clint,” Natasha explains, then bites his earlobe and Tony nearly flips. “Can I help?”
“Thor,” Tony says, ripping open the packet with his teeth, “you want Natasha to help us out, don't you?”
“Yes,” Thor breathes, still draped over the sofa like so much golden-skinned temptation. “Yes, I want her with us.”
Tony guides Natasha's hand, shows her how to push her fingers inside Thor gently, smears the lube between their fingers and Thor's skin and shows her how to aim for the prostate. Natasha is watching, eyes dark and mouth barely open, and her fingers under his hand are almost shaking.
“Friend Tony, you did not require this preparation,” Thor moans, his body clenching and twitching when Tony pushes in deep with three fingers. “I am... I do not need gentleness.”
“No, but Natasha likes it,” Tony grins, leaning over to place a little kiss on her neck. “And I want you to tell me what you want.”
“Mount me,” Thor growls immediately, and Tony sucks in a hard breath. Fuck. Fuck yes.
Tony slicks his dick up, and he has to really focus not to come from just that, because Natasha is still helping and her small, deadly hand on his erection would have finished him off if he hadn't been so set on fucking Thor. When he finally, finally pushes into the thunder god, feeling that magnificent body giving way under him, Tony cries out from the overwhelming pleasure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, holding still and closing his eyes tightly. This is almost too much. But then Natasha presses up against his back, her breasts sliding deliciously against his skin, and he gets himself under control. He really does have a reputation to uphold.
“Thor, you feel so good,” Tony tells him in a growl, pulling back to push in deep and slow. Thor gasps at the sensation and pushes back against Tony for more. “You're amazing. So totally amazing. You okay?”
“Fuck him, Tony,” Natasha whispers in his ear, her soft skin a glorious contrast to the strength and barely contained power in the body laid out in front of Tony. “Fuck him sore. I want to watch.”
Tony begins giving Thor as hard a pounding as he can, and the thunder god roars his approval and arches back so Tony can see every little muscle in his flanks flexing. And then it's too much to take in, and there's so much visual and sensory stimulation Tony can't handle it all, and he focuses every fibre of his being into fucking Thor. And it's hot, it's tight, it's so fucking good that Tony can't think of anything but how good it feels.
And fuck, now Natasha is reaching underneath Thor and leaning in to whisper things in his ear, and the demigod is growling deep in his chest and clenching erratically around Tony's dick, and Tony can't take any more, he grinds his teeth together to stifle his yelps as he comes, shaking against Thor.
“Wrong deity,” Natasha purrs, then gets to her knees and arches – or bends – until she half disappears from Tony's view, concealed by Thor's gigantic torso. Tony doesn't have time to ask what the hell she's doing before Thor is yelling at the top of his lungs, curses and pleas and things in old Norse, and his whole body contracts violently.
Tony gives a shout of over-sensitised, surprised pleasure at the feeling of Thor coming around him, because the thunder god's orgasm is so overwhelming, so consuming, that it kind of feels like the whole room, damn, the whole city, is wormholing in on them. Tony doesn't realise he's clawing frantically at Thor's back until they come down together, shuddering and gasping, and he sees the red scratch marks on Thor's skin.
And damn, but those are incriminating. Embarrassing, even. But before he can apologise, Tony finds himself being eased apart from his friend by Natasha's gentle hands, and then she's hovering right in front of his face, her mouth suspiciously closed, hands in his hair and pulling on him.
Tony kisses her with gusto, and it's not until he's got his tongue deep in her mouth that he realises what she was doing underneath Thor: he tastes the unmistakeable flavour of musky come. Thor's come was still in her mouth when she kissed him. Tony growls into the kiss and swipes his tongue over hers, wanting to share the flavour.
And here he thought he couldn't get any kinkier.
“Tony,” Thor says, and his voice is raw.
Tony breaks the kiss with the amazing, mind-blowingly hot woman in his arms and faces Thor. “Yeah. Uh, yeah, sorry, just, Natasha had something she wanted to share with the class.”
“You have shown me much this night,” Thor says, smiling warmly at Tony, and the sight of buck naked demigod leaning back against the couch with that smile on top makes Tony's arc reactor tingle. “And I would return the favour, but in matters of carnal relations you seem unsurpassed in knowledge and experience. How can I show my appreciation?”
Tony can almost feel a blush coming on, an honest-to-God blush. Or honest-to-Thor, as the case may be. “Hey, come on, first of all, you make me sound like a creep, I'm not that big a manslut, it's not like I've had orgies before or anything. Second, do not even try to think you need to show me anything. I enjoyed that just as much as you did. Maybe not as much as Natasha, but hey, nobody likes sex better than Natasha.”
Natasha doesn't even bother to slap him upside the head, but crosses her arms in a challenging way and gives them both the raised eyebrow. “I'm sorry, am I interrupting your manly bonding moment?”
“You know what, when you look at me like that while you're naked, I think I wouldn't mind if you killed me with your thighs,” Tony tells her, transfixed by the way her perfect breasts are pushed up and together by the way she's holding her arms. “I would probably die a happy man.”
Natasha almost giggles before she can stop herself, tries to look unaffected, but is clearly unable to keep a straight face. “You have very strange priorities, Stark.”
“Drinks,” Tony says, then turns around to see what the others are up to as he heads for the sideboard with drinks.
The other three are obviously recovering from an amazing bit of sex, because they're panting and swearing and sort of heaped together on the floor. Steve is lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling with wide, disbelieving eyes, and Bruce is sitting with his back against the sofa, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Clint is already at the sideboard himself, drinking right out of a bottle.
“Fuck me sideways,” he says hoarsely, handing the bottle to Tony. It's whisky. “Fuck.”
“Give me half an hour, and I'll see what I can do,” Tony promises him, and takes a sip of whisky himself. He keeps the bottle and brings it back to Natasha and Thor. “Or ask Natasha. I'm pretty sure she's already experimented with my naughty gear.”
Natasha tries for nonchalance, but looks strangely guilty. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure you don't,” Tony says. “I'm sure it was someone else who took my strap-on. Probably one of the other women who live here.”
So Bruce wants to know why Tony would need a strap-on, and Clint is eyeing Natasha with an almost hopeful look, and Steve innocently asks them to tell him what a strap-on is, and Thor drinks the rest of the whisky. Tony goes and gets the strap-on, then throws it to Natasha, who catches it and almost doesn't look sheepish.
“Attachable dick,” Tony says by way of explanation.
Which, not wholly surprisingly, causes Thor to break out in loud and gleeful exclamations on how equality between the sheets is now at hand, and how he will insist that Natasha fuck him regularly in future. Bruce still demands to know why Tony has that thing, and Steve has not stopped looking horrified and nauseated.
“Life, the universe and everything-rule number two: if it exists, I own one,” Tony says with a wave of his hand.
So that, of course, leads to Clint walking up to Natasha to kiss her deeply and tell her that if she wants to, he's game. And Natasha, the kinky bitch, is apparently a closet dominatrix, because she really wants to, which becomes apparent five minutes later when they're all watching the Black Widow fuck Hawkeye into the bedspread of Tony's bed (they moved there when Jarvis pointed out that the lighting was better).
Not only is she willing, she really likes it, too, judging by her dark look and triumphant smirk as she snaps her shapely hips against Clint's. And watching Natasha fuck Clint is really doing it for everyone, it would appear, because even Steve – despite his feeble protests – has a giant boner before she's half done.
Tony grins happily and joins Bruce on the bed next to the vigorously copulating assassins, getting ready for round two. He's been right all along: his dick has awesome, magic powers. And man-whoring really is the solution to all the world's problems. And rule number one still stands.
Life, the universe and everything-rule number one: Tony Stark is awesome. Of course he is. He's Tony fucking Stark, and the entire Avengers team are his bitches.