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lipstick stain my heart

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Tony has been witness to the kind of exertion required to make Steve actually break a sweat and came away from the experience with a new appreciation for science. Which, coming from him, is saying quite a bit. At the moment Steve's t-shirt is clinging to him like a second skin, the moisture creating a sheen on his face that makes the bright light of the kitchen reflect just enough that it looks like he's just naturally glowing. Like some kind of crazy, ripped angel sent down from the heavens just to taunt Tony. If they'd taught about those in Sunday School maybe he would have reconsidered his atheism.

He's so busy staring at the expanse of chest in front of him, moving up and down raggedly that it takes him a second to realize Steve has been speaking to him.

"Sorry, what?"

Steve rolls his eyes but it’s the smile that draws Tony's attention. Not just because it betrays Steve's fondness for him despite the earlier gesture, but because Steve's lips are incredibly pink. A dark, luscious pink that can't possibly be natural.

The lips start moving again, pressing together, forming beautiful shapes, making Tony want nothing more than to lean forward and touch them but it's the color that he's really entranced by.

"Are you wearing lipstick?" He asks abruptly.

Steve's lips cease their movement and he gives Tony a look that couldn't scream 'what the fuck' any louder than had Steve actually said the words. And, of course, the thought of Steve's flushed, pink lips forming the word 'fuck' gives Tony mental images he'll be using in the shower for the next few weeks.

“No,” Steve says, mouth forming a perfect circle that Tony can’t look away from. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, the weight of his gaze. Then he feels the weight of Steve’s hand on his shoulder as those perfect lips curl upward into a smile.

How would those lips look if his answer had been yes, Tony wonders. A pink sheen of gloss or a dark red the would leave marks all over Tony’s body.

Steve licks his lips and then they’re moving again, forming a sentence that Tony is only aware of distantly. Steve starts pushing and shoving him out of the kitchen. He maneuvers Tony down the hall and into the elevator, making sure the button for the penthouse is pressed before he gives Tony’s shoulders a little shake. He stoops just enough to force Tony’s eyes on his and then says, “Sleep.”

He steps back, the elevator door closes and Tony’s view is void of that perfect pout and he thinks maybe Steve has a point.

So sleep he does.


It was only a small thought, really. It shouldn’t have meant anything. But Tony’s thoughts can be dangerous. One can start out life as a brief flicker in the very back of his mind, an offhand comment or remark, until it slowly wiggles and worms its way to the forefront before quickly consuming every waking moment.

That’s how he finds himself standing in his bathroom, a long-since abandoned tube of Pepper’s lipstick in hand. He’s staring at it, already halfway through an elaborately constructed fantasy in his head, his hand massaging his cock through the dense fabric of his jeans. Images of Steve’s lips, thick and pouty, covered in a silky deep red fill his mind as he opens his fly. Groaning, he tugs at himself rough and hard.

He only makes it to the thought of how those red lips would look stretched around his cock before he’s coming with a groan, making a mess of the counter.

He stares at himself in the mirror and realizes he has a problem.


He’s honestly shocked that it works. He gives Steve a litany of technobabble and chemistry terms that don’t even make sense to Tony, while shoving the tube of tinted chapstick at him and telling him to use it. Steve just gives him a curious looks, shrugs, and places the tube in his pocket.

Tony sees him using it the next day and can’t take his eyes off of the way Steve’s lips glisten.

Steve inevitably loses the tube. When he lets Tony know, he waves Steve off and says he’ll whip up another one in a few days.

It only takes one day and this time there’s just a little bit more color than before.


Things being the way they are, Steve loses the new one. And then another. He keeps losing them and every time it happens Tony amps up the color just a hair. It’s barely noticeable to anyone who isn’t looking for it.

Steve’s lips nearly match that first day all the time, now.


He isn’t there when Steve is with Natasha, discussing their plans for the weekend. Steve pulls out the chapstick and Natasha watches with a slight tilt to her head as he runs it over his lips.

“Is that lipstick?” She asks.

He says no and then relays Tony’s explanation to her. The entire time she smirks at him with a lifted eyebrow. There’s a brief conversation that ends in him running the chapstick over the back of his hand, only to be shocked at how much darker the slick substance is than his skin.

For a split second he’s outraged thinking he’s been the butt of Tony’s joke this whole time. But to what end? Steve has been using the chapstick for months now, and no one has said anything until now. He doubts that his teammates could resist calling him out on it had anyone noticed before. He backtracks in his mind until he remembers an early morning in the kitchen when Tony’s eyes couldn’t seem to meet his. Suddenly every time he’s caught Tony staring at him--usually with chapstick in hand--is put in a different light.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s been thinking about Tony for awhile. About the lines of his body, powerful if compact. He thinks about the way Tony always makes time for him, the way he always seems to have a smile for Steve when he walks in the room even if it’s only a slight twitch when they’re supposed to be fighting. Tony’s always willing to answer his questions, always available when Steve needs someone to talk to…

Steve gets an idea. His lips curl up until a smirk. Natasha gives him an interested look but doesn’t mention it.

It takes him three weeks to find it the correct shade. It’s bright red, hot rod red, and it matches the Iron Man armor perfectly. He feels a small twinge of guilt over the fact that he had absconded from Tony’s workshop with a small piece of scrap metal from his current project, but Tony hasn’t mentioned missing anything so Steve isn’t going to let it worry him.

He has what he needs, now he needs to get what he wants.


It’s been a long day for Tony. Up too late last night fixing the damage from the latest battle, all morning spent in a conference call with a Japanese conglomerate, and then all afternoon and evening in various meetings. And the paperwork. Dear god, the paperwork.

He loosens his tie, and shrugs out of his jacket before rolling up his sleeves and heading to the bar in the corner of his bedroom. Swirling the whiskey in the glass, he looks out at city beneath him, lost in thought.

A light rapping on his door brings him back to reality and he’s immediately curious, having thought most of the Avengers were out enjoying the evening. The common floors had all been empty when he arrived.

“Who is it, J?”

“It is Captain Rogers, sir. He wished to be notified immediately when you had returned.”

What could be so important if it doesn’t warrant an Avengers emergency, he wonders. He sets down his glass and pads quietly over. Opening the door, he’s about to ask what he can help with when the words die in his throat as he looks at Steve’s face.

Or rather, Steve’s lips.

Steve’s lips, so full and plump, are currently the perfect shade of red. Hot rod red, he thinks distantly. Tony feels his stomach drop along with his jaw, unsure of how to feel. Is Steve mad? Is this just a joke? If it’s a joke it’s really fucking cruel since now he’s going to have to jack off before he sees Steve every day because he knows he’ll never be able to get this image out of his mind.

The room is void of sound, and the silence starts growing so oppressive, so loud, it feels like a physical presence creeping up behind him. It’s hard, but Tony finally tears his gaze away from Steve’s sinful lips and up to his eyes. Steve has an eyebrow quirked and there’s a challenge in his stare. He purses his lips like he’s waiting for Tony to do something.

What the hell, Tony decides, and reaches up to run his thumb along Steve’s bottom lip. It’s soft and silky and it sends a shiver down his spine that amplifies into a shudder when Steve’s mouth opens slightly and his tongue sneaks out and swipes over the pad of his fingertip.

Tony groans and launches himself forward, feeling Steve’s arms come up to hold him steady and then move down to grip his ass. The feeling of Steve’s lips against his own is a type of heaven he never could have imagined. Steve’s tongue is yet another wonder to behold and the way he curls it around Tony’s has his knees weak. His feet leave the ground as Steve hauls him off the floor and kicks the door shut behind them. He carries Tony over to the bed before setting him on the edge and promptly going to his knees between Tony’s legs.

Tony’s breathing harshly, mind still swirling somewhere over by the door as Steve makes quick work of his clothing. He hears a scattering of buttons pop off and clatter against the wall and he groans at the thought that Steve wants this just as much as him. In a haze of lust, Tony’s brain is a good step or two behind Steve’s actions so when Steve leans down and envelopes Tony’s cock in his warm mouth, Tony’s eyes nearly roll back into his head.

Oh god, and Steve has definitely done this before or he’s a quick study because he’s sucking Tony’s dick like a pro and Tony is about to come in record time when Steve lifts his head with a wet noise and an evil glint in his eye.

The lipstick is smeared, smudges of red streaked shiny with saliva, blur the edges of his mouth making Steve look like a wet dream personified. Tony groans and pulls Steve up to a kiss, the salty tang of Tony on Steve’s tongue. They fight for dominance over the kiss, Steve winning when he wraps his large hand around Tony’s cock and starts stroking, Tony losing all semblance of skill.

He reaches down and grabs the hem of Steve’s shirt, breaking away from him to pull it over Steve’s head. Instead of returning to the kiss, Steve presses his lips to Tony’s neck and then works his way back down, leaving tiny stains of red in his wake before he takes Tony back into his mouth.

Unable to hold himself up any longer, the way Steve is going at him like it’s his job, Tony ends up falling back. He leans up on his elbows, unwilling to miss the view.

Steve’s head bobs up and down and Tony feels a hand run up his thigh before fondling his balls and it’s all starting to get to be too much and Tony’s not sure how much longer he can hold on. The sounds in the room are obscene and beautiful and Tony is saying filthy, filthy things to Steve who doesn’t even so much as glance away from the mission before him.

When Tony shifts up a little farther he sees the smudged red ring around the base of his cock and that’s it, he’s coming harder than he has in years. He says Steve name as his body tenses with pleasure and Steve just works him through the whole thing, not stopping until Tony is lying completely limp and staring up at the ceiling like he’s just seen the face of god.

He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, just watching Tony’s face with those clear blue eyes. He smiles at Tony. It’s a dirty, smug smile that he’s never seen on Steve’s lips before. It’s a good look, Tony thinks.

He sits up and runs his hand up Steve’s jean-clad thigh and he glances down when he feels the spot of dampness. His face must betray his thoughts because Steve looks away, the first evidence of self-consciousness so far that night.

“I uh, got a little carried away… watching you,” Steve says, the tips of his ears turning a little pink.

Tony chuckles. “That’s actually pretty fucking hot, I’m not going to lie,” he says and Steves eyes meet his again as he gives Tony a shy smile.

Tony lifts his hand up and runs his thumb along Steve’s lips again.

“Who told you?”

“No one. Natasha asked about the chapstick but I worked it out myself.”


“You’ve could’ve just asked, you know.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, his eyes sweeping down Tony’s body and Tony chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you would’ve,” he says and Steve smiles before leaning in and kissing Tony lightly.

“Maybe next time,” Tony mumbles into Steve’s lips and brings his hand up to deepen the kiss, already thinking about the things he can’t wait to try with Steve.