"I love you like this," Steve murmured, dipping his head so that he could kiss the hollow of Tony's throat where his head was tipped back over a pillow. The action earned him a soft groan while Tony struggled to form words.
"What?" he slurred. He didn't move a muscle beyond that which was required to speak. "Used and fucked and filled with your come?" Steve chuckled and kissed his throat again.
"That too," he said, pressing his unmistakable hardness against Tony's thigh. The other man groaned again because it could only mean one thing, and he wasn't sure he could do more than lay there and take it, which come to think of it... Hmm... "But I was talking more about how you are rather than what you look like." To that, Tony made the effort to lift his head and narrow his eyes in question.
"Yeah? And how's that?" he asked. Steve shifted upwards so that he could kiss him properly. They were both exhausted—Tony more than Steve, but exhausted all the same, so the kiss was nothing more than lazy.
"I love when you're sated and sleepy and pliant... When you can barely remember your name, let alone speak," Steve murmured. He pressed down against Tony. "Like this, it's like you're a whole different person, like you can't snark and can't exert your wit and charm. Like you can't even think, only respond to me." In his effort to drive Tony insane by rocking into his hips and kissing the side of his neck, he missed the way Tony's eyes narrowed. "You aren't Anthony Fucking Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. No, like this, you're just my Tony."
"Oh fuck you, Rogers," Tony snapped, but the moan in his voice took the bite away. "I'm always Anthony Fucking Stark." Steve laughed.
"If it helps you sleep at night," he teased, so Tony pushed him off to the side and sat up to glare down at him.
"I can outwit and outsnark you or anyone, anytime and anywhere, Rogers," he answered. Steve grinned and coaxed him into a kiss which Tony struggled against for a moment, but eventually gave in to through a pout.
"Oh, undoubtedly," he agreed with all due solemnity, then quirked another amused grin. "Except when you're stuffed and filled and aching." Tony ignored the fingers sliding into the cleft of his ass and brushing over his still tender hole. He spoke through their pushing into him.
"You misunderstand 'anytime,' I think" he said, holding perfectly still lest he start pushing back against the fingers that were dipping in and out of him and prove Steve right.
"Care to put your money where your mouth is?" Steve dared. His eyebrow was quirked with a confidence that only made Tony more determined to prove him wrong.
"Bring. It. On," he countered, poking Steve's chest to punctuate each word. Steve grinned again as he flipped them over, and Tony refused—refused!—to whine when Steve pulled his fingers out of him to reach over to the nightstand. The expanse of muscles stretched out above him was an acceptable consolation, though, so he didn't mind as much as he should have. Tony traced the valley between Steve's pectorals down to the thatch of coarse hair at his abdomen. The caress was short lived when Steve pulled back, one of their toys in hand.
Tony blinked at the sight of it. It was one of their less frequently used toys, and for good reason at that: frankly, it was huge.
"Here's what we're going to do," Steve said, and how not fair was it that his voice was pitched low and seductive while he fondled the plug. Tony only resisted swallowing because Steve was watching him. "I'm going to plug you up with this." And yeah, Tony got that part. "And you're going to have to... convince me to take it out. Meanwhile, I'm going to resist your 'wit and charm' and make you admit to agreeing with what I say." Tony narrowed his eyes.
"And neither of us is allowed to come till the game ends." Tony frowned in thought, and his eyes darted once more to the plug. It was a good four inches at the widest part, and three at the neck.
"Can we choose something else?" he tried, making Steve grin and shake his head.
"'Anytime,' remember?" he said, almost gleeful in tone, so Tony scowled and dragged him down into a hard kiss.
"Fine," he said shortly. "But just so you know? I think I'm getting the short end of the stick here."
Steve's grin never dwindled, even as he reached for the lube and pressed his fingers into Tony, two at once because he was still so loose from their fucking not half an hour ago. Tony moaned at the feel of them sliding so easily into him, heating the aching skin. With his other hand, Steve grabbed one of Tony's legs and slung it over his shoulder, opening his lover up further for a third finger to slip inside.
"God..." Tony moaned, relaxing his legs and arching his neck. "Please." Steve's fingers spread and worked him open and seemed determined to drive him insane. He wanted more; he needed more. He needed Steve to fill him up again, to take him, but before he could tell Steve, a fourth finger was pressing into him, and he could only whine and whimper. His words were stuck in his throat, held there by the steady, incredible pressure of Steve's fingers. Then, all too soon, they were sliding out. "No!" he cried, his head snapping up to meet Steve's eyes. Steve smirked, and then, without further word, pushed the tip of the plug in.
It went in slowly and steadily; Steve paused for nothing, not even a sharp sob from Tony.
"So gorgeous," he murmured instead. "Look at you taking that for me."
"Steve," Tony answered, halfway between a whine and a sob.
"Shh," Steve said. His eyes left Tony's to watch the plug spread Tony apart. "Nearly there," he assured him, which honestly didn't do the job quite so well. 'Nearly there' meant they were getting closer and closer to the plug's widest part. Tony could feel himself stretching further and further, worried that it was just about to cleave him apart. Suddenly the unnecessary stretching didn't seem quite so unnecessary anymore.
"S—Steve, I can't...!" he wailed.
"You can, sweetheart. You can. Nearly there," Steve murmured, stroking his flank with his free hand. "You're so good for me." He dipped his head to kiss Tony's hip, and then he stopped pushing. Tony didn't realize it at first, concerned as he was with the growing width, but when the telltale relief of the neck didn't come after a long moment, he recognized the stillness.
"Steve," he sobbed, he pleaded. Steve ignored him, rubbing the stretched skin around the plug and making Tony gasp. "Steve!"
"I thought it might break skin, but you're taking it so beautifully. You're so loose for me. Like a goddamned professional," Steve murmured. He shoved Tony's knees to his chest and prompted him to hold them there. "This is how you should be kept: stretched and spread and ready for me."
"God, yes. Steve, please. Steve."
"Tell me what you want," Steve commanded, and dear God, Tony couldn't have denied that voice even if he'd been mad at him, least of all now, like this.
"Fuck me, please. I want it hard and fast. God. I want you to break me, Steve. Please." Steve pushed the plug in all the way to the neck, making Tony keen. "It's... Please, babe—not enough. Not enough. Need you." He clenched around the plug. While it was substantially larger than Steve was, it still wasn't enough. It wasn't the same.
"Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart." Steve kissed him, long and hard and promising. "And I'll give you want you want. I'll give you everything you need. I'll take such good care of you." Tony's thoughts and words were a steady mantra of 'yesyesyesyes.' Then, Steve's voice dropped into an odd whisper when he said, "You only have to tell me that I'm right."
"You're—" Tony had started before he realized the implication of Steve's words. It was like a blast of cold water, pulling him out of the haze of lust. His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. "You're an ass, Rogers," he snapped. "An ass that's going to lose." Steve laughed and pulled himself off of the bed. He took a moment to drag a possessive, appreciative gaze over Tony's body, leaving the genius feeling violated and warm all over. It didn't escape him when Steve's eyes stopped at the black base of the plug.
"We should go shower before we go," he said and turned to the bathroom. Tony couldn't help give his own appreciative gaze at the retreating, magnificent backside before realizing what Steve said.
"Wait. What?" Steve tossed a look over his shoulder.
"SHIELD? The mixer? Remember?" He looked amused as he asked because Tony obviously didn't.
"Mixer?" Why in the world would Fury, the single greatest fun sucker in the history of ever, approve a mixer for his drones?
"Yes, dear. I told you about it this morning." Tony frowned. It didn't ring any bells, but maybe that was because this morning, Steve had him bent over his workbench, his jeans around his ankles, and was reaming his ass with particularly great enthusiasm. "Now get your cute, stuffed butt in the shower before we miss it." And yes, Tony had almost been able to forget about that.
It was a struggle to get to his feet; in the end, he rolled over onto his side and pushed himself straight off the bed. The plug, huge and heavy, made its presence unforgettable, especially as Tony padded over to Steve's side. God, he hoped he didn't walk like he had just gotten a circumcision.
"Okay?" Steve asked. He was far too amused.
"Just dandy," Tony snapped back then stalked into the shower with single-minded focus.
Steve wasn't called the greatest tactical genius of the century for nothing. He knew almost exactly what to do to ensure the success of his plans, and his success increased significantly when he didn't need to factor in the failures of anyone else.
And this? This was one plan that was well on its way of being won because to Tony, this was exquisite torture.
Each motion made the presence of the plug known. Each shift of his hips hardened his cock. Each jarring step made him want to fall to his knees and beg Steve to take him where they stood. Only stubbornness and pride kept him from doing so—to what end, he was becoming hard-pressed to remember.
He carried his fifth drink of the night and schmoozed his way around the room, deftly and expertly avoiding Steve while he gathered his wits about him. He didn't dare invite anyone for a dance, which involved pressing and rubbing, if inadvertently; that was not what he needed right now. But he was pretty sure most of SHIELD had already noticed him sporting a hard on, and likely, the better half of them had already figured out what was going on, which was probably why Nick was looking particularly furious (heh, that's never going to get old).
An arm slipped around his waist, making him jump and spill his drink on his tie and Natasha, the owner of the arm, grin catlike.
"Fantastic," Tony said with a moue, brushing the liquid off of his front.
"Dance with me," Natasha demanded because she knew—of course she did—and because she was the demon on Steve's left shoulder.
"No," Tony answered. "He's not allowed help."
"Help?" Natasha's eyes were wide and innocent, but Tony knew better, so he glared at her and stepped back. Only, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the dance floor, and if Tony wanted to retain full functionality of his limbs, he knew he had no choice but to follow her and risk spilling his... secrets. Over her shoulder, he found Steve's eyes and glared at the laughing man.
Then Natasha was grabbing him by the ass and pulling him right up against her, and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him.
"Not fair," he complained through gritted teeth, and she only grinned back while she led him into a dance.
"Come on, Stark," she goaded. "Where's that charm you're so proud of?" Tony squeezed the hand he was holding, intending to cause Natasha pain, but she only squeezed him back and made him yelp. Then she tilted her head and smiled.
"My charm is reserved for people it actually works on. You know the kind: the one with hearts," he answered. She laughed.
"I don't recall it working that well on Steve," she pointed out. Tony looked up at Steve who was watching them intently. Then, in the loudest voice he could possibly muster without shouting, he said:
"That's because Captain Fucking America is a heartless bastard!" Steve tipped his glass in a salute and slipped a hand in his pocket. Then, a moan as loud as a scream was suddenly ripped from Tony's throat, and he nearly collapsed onto Natasha when the plug started to vibrate.
God almighty, he had forgotten that particular feature.
Fucking tactical genius—get Tony fucked beyond all comprehension and then pull out one of the lesser-used toys, and BAM! Element of surprise.
He could only hold on tight to Natasha and struggle to muffle his moans while the damned toy sent his mind scrambling. He vaguely felt himself being pulled off the spy and onto someone else, but Tony didn't find it in him to care all that much up until the toy stopped and he found himself in Steve's arms.
He could glare and whinge at and curse the bastard all night long, but as the fog of his mind cleared, he knew that wasn't going to help a single bit. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and swayed into him.
"Tease," he accused, dropping his eyes half mast then looking up at Steve through his eyelashes. He made sure to press his cock to Steve's half-hard-but-not-for-long erection.
"Pot. Kettle," Steve replied with a chuckle.
"I ain't teasing, darling," Tony murmured. "I'm perfectly willing for you to throw me down and fuck me right here in the middle of the floor, spectators be damned." And yes, there; Steve was immediately hard right up against Tony's own. "I'm so hard for you, Steve." His voice was sultry, velvety, and slowly, he could see the tables turning. "You'd want that, won't you? Show everyone just who I belong to? Show everyone just who Tony Stark would fall to his knees and beg for?"
"No," Steve growled. Tony blinked. "No one should see you but me. You on your knees and begging is for me alone." Tony kissed his neck.
"Please, Steve," he murmured, grinding up against his lover. "Please fuck me." And he made himself sound so earnest. "Or else I could just slip into the bathroom and jack off."
"That's against the rules."
"So was getting help from Natasha," Tony pointed out.
"That we didn't discuss," Steve reminded him.
"Well, maybe I should get Clint to help me, then. Maybe when you see me getting all the help I need right here on the dance floor, you're finally gonna—" Steve shut Tony up with a hard kiss, and Tony retaliated by rocking up against him. A moan was tugged out of him, and he couldn't find it in himself to hold it back.
"Steve, please," Tony moaned into his mouth. It came out mostly unintelligible, but Steve seemed to understand him anyway.
"Say it," he ordered. Tony frowned in annoyance rather than confusion.
"Say what?" he asked being deliberately obtuse. Steve didn't call him out on it. He only dipped his head and whispered in Tony's ear.
"Say I'm right, and then I'll take you into the nearest bathroom and make you scream so loud, all of SHIELD will be able to visualize with startling clarity exactly how I'm ruining you."
"How bout you just do it anyway?" Tony answered. His fingers trailed deliberately down Steve's back, stopping at his tailbone. "There's not a single thing stopping you from doing so."
"Pot—Fucking—Kettle," Tony hissed.
"If the pot's going to start fucking the kettle, let me know coz I know a place that’s better suited for it than the SHIELD meeting hall," Clint suddenly said, all of twelve inches away from them, and that was when Steve and Tony remembered that they were in the middle of the dance floor at the fucking SHIELD mixer where roughly three hundred agents and personnel were watching them grind up against each other and Nick's forehead vein was proving an accurate visualization of just how furious (heh) he was.
Steve pulled back immediately, but made sure to step in front of Tony in a sudden display of protectiveness and shame as if they hadn't been teasing each other in plain sight for the last few hours, as if everyone else didn't know what they were doing.
It was unnecessary, but cute anyway and sent butterflies fluttering through Tony.
"I, uh..." Steve said. "Tony and I will be turning in early, Director." Nick's eye narrowed sharply.
"That," he said, snapping his gaze at Tony. "Would be a wise decision, Captain." Tony affected an air of sudden surprise.
"What?" he asked. "Why? We were having such a fantastic time, Steve." His hand discreetly grasped and squeezed Steve's hip. "Mingling, meeting new people, learning that SHIELD agents aren't really low-level AIs. I, for one, would like to stay and talk to Agent Galaga some more because anyone willing to play games on duty under the fair Maria Hill deserves my eternal—" He suddenly broke off.
"I'm sorry, sir. He may have had too much to drink," Steve was saying, but Tony couldn't focus because the plug was vibrating again, and it seemed to be knocking around the brain cells that were devoted to speech. The hand at Steve's waist twisted into the fabric, and his head fell against Steve's back. It was only through sheer superhuman will that he managed to hold back his moans. To expect him to do any more was insane.
"It wouldn't be the first time, Captain," Fury agreed, and if Tony hadn't been preoccupied, he would have had a fantastic comeback for that. Like a real good one.
Oh god, he couldn't hold on anymore.
"Steve," he whispered urgently, his voice strung and choked. Steve said nothing further, and instead grabbed his hand and dragged him through the throng of people feigning disinterest. He continued to drag Tony through the halls of SHIELD (Fury may have allowed the damn mixer, but he sure as hell wasn't allowing it to happen in such a public place as a hotel), and found them an empty meeting room where he shoved Tony up against a wall and kissed him to within an inch of his life.
Sweat was beading Tony's forehead and soaking his collar while Steve fumbled with his pants. He hadn't bothered to turn the plug off, so Tony, caught up as he were, could only vaguely feel his clothing sliding down his thighs. The glide of cloth over his cock was torture that had him wailing softly, but the succeeding gust of cool air was a welcomed relief.
Steve grasped both of his thighs and hefted him up without a single ounce of visible strain on him. His cock, too, was bared and sliding between the cheeks of Tony's ass, jolting the plug as it passed.
"Ah!" Tony gasped the first time, his back arching. The soldier kissed the spot below his ear.
"You continue to deny it, but the way you look right now is evidence enough," he said evenly, but Tony could hear the tightness in his voice and so moved against him to press his luck. Steve may or may not have put himself significantly at an advantage, but the battle wasn't yet won, and when push came to shove, Tony fought to survive.
"You keep telling me how far from myself I fall when you take me like this, but look at you—you're just as ruined as I am," Tony hissed back. The grip around his thighs tightened painfully, but Tony pressed on. "They look at Captain America and see a symbol of all that is good in this world, of purity and nobility and righteousness. They look at Steven Grant Rogers and see a picture of all they want to be, of innocence, of kindness, of decency.
"But then they don't know you like I do, do they?" Steve stilled before Tony, his eyes turning hooded and unreadable. Tony rocked against him, rubbing himself off on whatever part of his lover he could reach. Through a moan or two or dozens, he continued to speak.
"They don't know that you come to me, tired and aching from keeping everything you're not supposed to be locked away—all the dark parts of you that I crave." Rubbing himself against Steve like this was sure to be proven a regrettable thing because Tony could feel the edges of his orgasm nearing, but as words continued to fall from his mouth, he couldn't stop. "Just Steve—that's who you are to me. You're selfish and sadistic and forceful. You take and take and take and pay little regard to what I want. You use me, you make me bend to your will, you give me more that I can take and then make me take more." Tony paused then dropped his voice into a heady whisper.
"I love you like that."
Steve was spurred into action.
He pulled Tony off the wall and slammed him down on the table. The plug was removed with little care or attention and tossed behind him. Tony could hear it buzz as it went and thunk against the wall, but those were the last of his thoughts because Steve gripped his hips and thrust into him without warning or hesitation or care and continued to do so again and again and again without pause.
Colors blurred, his vision dimmed, and his throat burned from what was likely a scream because Steve clamped a hand tight over his mouth even as he tore into him.
Neither of them lasted as long as they would have wanted, hours of teasing wrecking their resolve. Tony came first, arching his back and spurting wildly over his stomach and chest and neck. His mouth was open beneath Steve's palm, but no sound came out, and white light burned the backs of his eyelids.
Steve came not soon after, clamping his teeth down on Tony's shoulder and shuddering above him. The last of the fight in him escaped with his come, slowing him down considerably. And at the end of it, he could dole out barely more than a few gentle thrusts, the last of which stole whimpers from Tony who oversensitivity was just starting to touch.
The smell of sex in the room slowly became as cloying as the silence around them, so Tony sought to break it, except that Steve beat him to it.
"I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be all that." Tony rolled his eyes.
"I recall saying those are the things I like from you," he pointed out.
"Stop being stupid, Rogers. It’s unbecoming of you," he said and allowed Steve to say nothing more because he pulled him into a kiss that had none of the urgency of the earlier ones. They pulled apart and rested their foreheads against each others’.
"I love you."