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Steve ignored the urge to fidget, his fingers drumming on the expensive leather of the couch. He didn’t know what he was doing here. (Yes, he did, he knew exactly what he was doing here.) He and Tony had been out to a restaurant together - that was something that friends did, he told himself, men often ate dinner together these days. That was fine.

The way Tony’s eyes had gone dark while his tongue flicked out before wrapping his lips around his dessert spoon, that had been less friendly. The way he’d held Steve’s gaze while licking his fingers clean after the cheese course, sucking on each digit until releasing it with a loud pop, did not strike even Steve as platonic. But that was just Tony’s way, flirting like he breathed. It wasn’t as if he meant anything by it.

And yet, when they’d arrived at Tony’s door and he had smiled charmingly and invited Steve up for a nightcap, the flimsiest of pretexts given that they both knew full well Steve didn’t drink, Steve felt a wild curiosity at the possibilities. In a moment of madness, he had agreed, and Tony had just barely hidden his shock before ushering him inside.

So now here Steve was, perched awkwardly on Tony’s sofa, waiting for the man himself to return from “making himself more comfortable”, whatever that meant.

When Tony returned with an overflowing martini glass in hand, Steve opened his mouth to make a comment before he took in what Tony was wearing - an indecently short purple silk robe and nothing else - and nearly swallowed his tongue.

Tony threw himself onto the sofa next to Steve, drink threatening to slosh over both of them. He leaned over, smiling conspiratorially, chatting away as if this were just another day at the tower. He was so unashamed, and Steve felt a pang of jealousy that this all seemed so natural to Tony. As if propositioning his team mates was something he did every day (for Tony, he thought unkindly, it probably was).

Steve tried to tear his eyes away from where the purple silk was draped across Tony’s thighs, to ignore the split revealing inches of pale skin and the thought of reaching out and feeling the cool fabric beneath his fingers. Tony shifted and the robe rode higher, practically obscene now. It was improper, it made Tony look like he was on display, like a slut, and if Tony would just open his legs a little wider then Steve would see everything.

Steve swallowed thickly and forced his attention back to Tony’s face, which was currently sporting an expression of amusement. “Enjoying the view, darling?” he drawled.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Stark,” Steve snapped, embarrassed at having been caught gawping. “The entire team saw your sex tape, I don’t know why you’d be shy now.”

Tony's brow pinched into a frown for a moment but he hid it quickly. “The entire team saw it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m glad to hear you didn’t miss out on the fun.”

Steve snapped his mouth shut and tried to temper down the flush threatening to spread across his cheeks. It was true, everyone had seen that damn tape, and they talked about it all the time. Of course he was going to watch it. It was part of his job as team leader. It was just normal curiosity. Why did everyone assume he’d be such a prude about it?

Tony seemed to take his silence as a victory, knocking back the last of his martini with a smirk. He removed the stick holding the olives and brought it up to his mouth, eyeing Steve with a glint. His tongue flicked out to taste before he wrapped his lips around the first olive and sucked it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. Steve ignored the pink shade of Tony’s lips as a thrum of something that felt a lot like anger coursed through him.

It was overwhelming, the way that he felt around Tony, the urges and the discomfort and the want. Steve had thought that he could set it aside, that spending some time with Tony when they weren’t under imminent threat of disaster would let him adjust to the idea of them as friends. That the desperate craving he felt would prove to be an effect of adrenaline, not anything more. But tonight, the closer Tony came, the more unbalanced he felt, like he might fall into him and lose himself completely. Like he would fall apart if Tony touched him once.

“Hey,” the soft tone of Tony’s voice surprised him. “It’s okay, Steve. You’re allowed to have what you want sometimes.”

Steve wanted to reach out, to hold on to Tony and assure himself that he was real, he was here, he wasn’t going to leave him (like Gail, like Bucky, like Jan. They all left him behind in the end). But his hands felt thick and clumsy, too brutish to give or receive comfort, good for fighting but not much else. Instead he bunched his hands into fists and nodded tightly.

Tony reached over and patted Steve on the leg, grounding him for a moment. Steve tried not to panic when Tony stroked his fingers inside his knee, feather-light, smiling at him as if this was normal and easy, and Steve hated him a little bit for that.

Steve couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like if Tony keep stroking, moved his hand up Steve’s leg, teased at his thigh. How it would feel to be touched by a man… to be touched by Tony. He had to turn his face away, convinced that if Tony looked at him right now he would know all of his secrets.

Tony moved his hand away (and Steve didn’t miss the contact, he didn’t) and gently took Steve’s chin and turned his face towards him. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, and you can have it.”

The air emptied from Steve’s lungs, his heart thumping harder than it ever did in combat. “You know what I want,” he huffed out, petulant.

Tony licked his lips. “I do. But I’d still like to hear you say it,” he said, and he was smiling, as if he might mean it, as if it might please him to hear what Steve had to say. But Steve had no idea how to ask for what he wanted, no language he could use, not like Tony’s other partners, who must have been so sure and so easy.

“I want your mouth,” the words were out before Steve could rethink them, rough and indelicate. “I want you to suck me.”

“Oh, darling,” Tony smiled at him like that was the right answer. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that all night.”