Anyone who was anyone (or at the very least was a person who could hack into SHIELD’s servers through a backdoor he’d created the last time he’d been in headquarters) knew about Captain America. How he’d been discovered in the arctic and revived; how SHIELD had been keeping him hidden from the world while he got acclimated to the future; how they’d been sending him out on simple solo missions to see how he’d do.
And Tony was all for getting him up to speed, making him feel comfortable, all that crap really, but he didn’t understand why that meant he couldn't see him. It was Captain America, for Pete’s sake. He’d been waiting to meet Captain America his whole fucking life. Not that Fury seemed to care about that, oh no. Tony Stark was a loose cannon. Tony Stark couldn’t keep a secret (like the plans for Iron Man for example). Tony Stark had impulse problems, which okay, yeah, but this was different! Captain America was two elevators, seven hallways, and fifteen doors away from him, and if he had to wait one more day, just one more, he’d go batshit insane, would pull a Bruce Banner on them, would—would—he didn’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.
So it was for SHIELD’s sake that he was standing outside of Steve Roger’s quarters, unauthorized and unaccompanied. Because Tony was a good enough guy that he didn’t want to lay the blame for all that destruction at SHIELD’s door.
Arranging the whole thing had actually been a lot easier than he’d expected: a little misdirection here, some subterfuge there. JARVIS taking over a portion of SHIELD’s mainframe there. No big deal.
Still. Someone was sure to notice something eventually, and he wanted to make the most of the time he had before a very not-happy Fury came to kick him out. Tony already knew he’d have to do something big in order to keep from being tasered and left in a puddle of drool on the sidewalk outside. He’d have to beef up SHIELD's firewalls for them maybe, reveal how exactly he’d rigged all the cameras, throw in a couple tens of millions of dollars’ worth of tech, who knew what, but it’d be so worth it.
He knocked and had to control his squeak of excitement when the door finally opened and Captain America—Captain America—peered down at him.
“Hi!” he said, oozing innocence like a kid with sticky fingers in a candy store but too excited to do anything about it.
“Oh no,” Captain America groaned, and Tony was too distracted saying his name over and over again in his head—Captain America. Captain America. Captain AMERICA—to be hurt by the lack of warm welcome. “I told him not to do it.”
“Do what?” he asked, looking his fill, because the pictures totally hadn't done him justice. Tall, with muscles that begged for Tony’s tongue to lick across them, hair just right for pulling, thighs like tree trunks, and—holy shit, someone was happy to see him.
“You. This,” Captain America said, waving his hand between them. Which made both of them look down. Which made Captain America realize what they were both looking down at. Which made him blush and move his crotch behind the door.
Which made Tony want to cry a little.
“I told him I was okay. I could—I can take care of it. Myself,” said that man who looked like he was trying to hide a missile in his shorts and doing a very poor job of it at that.
“Well, it definitely looks like you need help taking care of something, soldier, and I am more than happy to volunteer my services,” he said, pushing into the room.
“I don’t need any help,” Captain America protested, but he shuddered as soon as Tony’s hand touched his chest, and when Tony closed the door, he didn’t seem to notice, staring at him with eyes that were glazing over.
“Right,” Tony said, licking his lips and watching Captain America follow the drag of his tongue, sweat beading on his forehead. “I totally believe you.”
Captain America blinked, giving himself a little shake. “You need to get out of here,” he said, turning around, and Tony gave a silent whistle; the back view was almost as good as the front. “I don’t know what Nick told you, but I’m not—I’m not safe right now.”
“No? And why would that be?” he asked, pulling his tie free in a hum of silk and admiring the way Captain America’s back tensed at the sound.
It was obvious that he didn’t know who the hell Tony was, which was vaguely insulting, but nothing he couldn’t forgive considering the guy had been frozen for the past seventy years. Even if he had been awake for months now, and one would think he’d know Tony’s face, what with all the magazine covers and news shows he’d been on recently, but whatever, it was fine.
It was equally obvious that Captain America was having some sort of problem in his pants and that Fury had wanted to send someone to relieve the issue, but Cap was against the idea for some reason.
Upon reflection, it was also also obvious that that meant Captain America thought he was either a SHIELD agent really dedicated to his job, or someone who was willing to lend a hand as it were, which, wow, did that mean Captain America thought Tony was a hooker? Because if so, Tony was deeply offended. Like there was any way in hell SHIELD could’ve had enough money to afford him. Had the guy even looked at his suit?
Captain America glanced at him over his shoulder. “I can’t talk about—are you—do you work for SHIELD?” he asked nervously.
“I’m a . . . consultant,” Tony said as blandly as possible, just to fuck with him at that point, because seriously, ten thousand dollar bespoke Caraceni right here.
“Oh,” he said, blushing furiously. “Of course.”
“But I have extremely high clearance,” Tony said, letting his jacket fall to the ground to join the tie; Caraceni or not, a man had to have priorities. “How else could I have gotten to your room?”
There was still a hint of skepticism on Captain America’s face, but he answered anyway, unsurprisingly keeping it pretty vague. “There was an . . . accident. I’m having a . . . bad reaction to it.”
“I don’t know that I’d call it a bad thing myself,” Tony said, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He walked forward the few steps separating them, pleased when Captain America turned towards him. Tony kept his eyes on him as he reached out, slowly enough so that his intentions were clear. He could see Captain America’s Adam’s apple bob, but he didn’t try to stop him as Tony rested his hand lightly on his cock.
“Not bad at all. What’s your name, soldier?” he asked even though he already knew. Still, while he wouldn’t mind saying “Captain America” in the middle of sex, maybe for their first time—first of many if he had anything to say about it—they should stick with the tried and true.
“Steve,” Captain America gasped, hands fisting at his sides, already teetering on the fine edge of control from something as simple as the warmth of Tony’s hand through his shorts, and damn, Tony was going to have to redo SHIELD’s global security system, because Tony would totally have paid money to do this.
“I’m Tony, Steve,” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand against Steve’s cock.
Steve moaned, flinching back and grabbing Tony’s wrist, but rather than stopping him, he pressed Tony’s hand even harder against him, whimpering in the process.
“You alright there?” Tony asked, his voice raspy. He’d been half hard since seeing him in the doorway, but Steve’s reaction had catapulted him to completely erect and desperate to get naked in the span of about zero point seven seconds.
“I . . .” Steve let out an embarrassed huff, a shiver running all over him. He rested his head on Tony’s shoulder as he said, “I might have made myself sore from-from—” He took a deep breath. “From masturbating so much.”
It took a few seconds for Tony to recover from that statement, and he groaned, “Don’t say things like that,” gripping Steve’s cock just to hear him hiss, his fingers tightening around Tony’s wrist almost painfully. “Are you trying to make me come before I get to see you naked?”
“Not my fault,” Steve protested, the words slurring together as he starting rocking into Tony’s fist, his breath hot and damp against Tony’s neck. “Harder, Tony?” he panted, making it a question. “Can you do it harder?”
“I can do it however you want me to, Steve,” he said, putting words to action and squeezing hard enough that Steve’s knees buckled, his fingers digging bruises into Tony’s skin and making him grunt, although Tony refused to let go. “Is this too much for you?”
But Steve didn’t answer, not vocally anyway, although the shudder that ran through his body and the seeping dampness under Tony’s hand was probably answer enough.
“Did that help at all?” he asked, reminding himself that humping Captain America’s leg wasn’t the best way to make a good first impression. Granted, that was under normal circumstances and didn’t necessarily qualify in a situation like theirs—
“No,” Steve groaned, hips spasming, thrusting into Tony’s grip, and Tony swallowed heavily, thinking about the wet drag of fabric against Steve’s cock, thinking about how much that kind of friction had to hurt but still feel so, so good.
“Do you want my mouth?” Tony asked, his voice gone low and gravelly, and he wanted Steve to say yes, could almost taste him on his tongue already. He swept his thumb over the head of Steve’s cock, eliciting another of those gorgeous sounds from Steve, and said, “I could lick all the come away and take you into my throat, let you fuck my—”
“Tony, Tony,” Steve gasped, but then he was the one falling to his knees, reaching for Tony’s belt, fingers almost useless in his desperation. Tony had to undo them for him, hands steadier, although it was all relative really, and then Steve was shoving Tony’s boxers down. The sound he made when he got Tony’s cock into his mouth was filled with such utter satisfaction that Tony looked down and wondered if he’d come again, and fuck, if that wasn’t one of the hottest things ever: Captain America gagging for Tony’s cock, coming from just the feel of it in his mouth.
There was no way to tell if Steve had actually orgasmed, not without checking anyway, but Tony couldn’t even be sad about it, not when Steve was working at him so devoutly, a little crease developing between his eyebrows as he tried to take Tony deeper and deeper, like he couldn’t be happy until he’d taken him all the way down.
It was probably wrong of him to enjoy that thought so much, probably revealed volumes about his upbringing and his need for some kind of psychiatric intervention that he pulled out then, keeping his cock just out of reach of Steve’s mouth while Steve whined and chased after it. The hell with it, though, because Steve looked amazing like that, lips wet from his enthusiasm, eyes hazy and pained.
“It’s alright,” Tony said, even though it wasn’t, already missing the warmth Steve had provided. It didn’t seem to calm Steve either, and he kept straining to get closer, his tongue coming out to lick when he failed, as if he couldn’t bear to not touch Tony’s cock somehow.
It was more than Tony could handle, and he finally relented, saying, “I’ll give it to you,” as he pushed back inside, winding his fingers into the strands of Steve’s hair to keep him from taking too much.
He knew the instant Steve started touching himself, the rhythmic twitches of his arm giving him away—which, okay, apparently Steve didn’t believe in any kind of refractory period; good to know—although the way his face twisted up right before it went slack with pleasure was just as telling. He was able to slide in another inch then as Steve relaxed, and he was tempted—oh so tempted—to finish like that, to fuck Steve’s throat until he could only say Tony’s name in a bruised, hoarse voice and Tony’s come was all that soothed the ache.
Unlike some other people he knew, however, Tony could only reasonably be expected to come once during sex. Twice. Maybe three times. And while there were all sorts of things he could do with his tongue and fingers to please a partner, considering how much Steve loved his cock—and he had to say it again, because there was no way he couldn’t—considering how much Captain America loved Tony’s cock, he was going to have to pace himself.
He did spare a moment to wonder if Steve had always been this insatiable. Had the drug or ray or whatever he’d been exposed to affected his libido or just his self-control? Did Steve normally have a recovery period of zero seconds, or had his body’s reactions been magnified? How long was the effect going to last? And most importantly, how could Tony get his hands on the source?
But those were all questions he could figure out later. He had other things to worry about now, and he withdrew again, shivering at the way Steve sucked even harder, trying to keep him in.
“Don’t,” Steve gasped, trying to lean forward, although it just served to tip his head back as Tony maintained his grip, his gaze firmly on Tony’s cock. Steve’s hand was still going, moving even faster it seemed to compensate for the loss, and it was a good thing Tony had a lot of self-control when it came to sex, because it would’ve broken him otherwise. “Don’t. I need it.”
And what was Tony supposed to do with that? Like honestly, did Steve understand what he was doing to Tony?
“Please, Tony,” Steve moaned, tilting his head further back and finally dragging his eyes up to his, and fuck, who was Tony kidding? Steve had broken him a long time ago.
A strange surge of tenderness swept through him at the realization, and he found himself bending down to press a soft kiss against Steve’s cheek, completely at odds with the desperation that hung heavy in the air.
“Get on the bed,” he whispered, unable to say the words any louder for fear he wouldn’t make it and would just take Steve on the floor. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he said, and it was a promise.
Steve’s eyes widened and then he shuddered again, whining as he panted against Tony’s skin, fingers clutching at Tony’s legs, and that was it. That was—fuck.
Tony tumbled Steve the rest of the way to the ground and yanked his shorts around his thighs, and damn, apparently his imagination did have it limits. Steve, still covered in the evidence of his most recent orgasms and looking debauched and absolutely glorious, was a hundred times better than anything he’d dreamed of before.
It almost made him resentful, because he wanted to be inside Steve—so much, wanted to be surrounded by Steve in every which way possible—but he couldn’t see Steve displayed like his own private picture show without tasting him just once.
He squeezed Steve’s cock, tighter than he probably should’ve, but it felt unnaturally good in his hand, thick and so, so hard for him, and Steve arched off the ground, making it even easier to take him into his mouth.
Steve cried out loud enough to probably bring all of SHIELD running under normal circumstances, but it was only a background noise to Tony at that point, too absorbed in the feel of Steve in his mouth and the stretch in his jaw, in savoring the bitter taste because he’d been the one to cause it and he fully intended to do it again.
Tony took an almost savage delight in sucking Steve’s cock; his trembling thighs trapped against Tony’s sides; his hands grasping helplessly at Tony’s hair and shoulders as pain and pleasure took him higher and higher. Tony couldn’t even say why it was so good, just knew it to be true, and it was almost easy to ignore his own body’s clamoring while he took Steve apart.
And Steve shattered so beautifully, back bowing off the ground, calling out Tony’s name. When Tony added fingers to the mix, it got even better, and Steve groaned in such obvious relief that Tony wondered how he’d sound when Tony fucked him for real.
He was so engrossed by the thought that he wasn’t ready for the burst of come that flooded his mouth, and he ended up not swallowing fast enough, some of it dripping down his chin as he pulled back, coughing.
“Sorry,” Steve said, already reaching for him. “I’m sor—”
He stopped, staring at Tony’s red face and streaked chin, and then shivered all over, his cock twitching.
Yeah, so the bed thing totally wasn’t happening.
Luckily, Tony found a bottle of lube in Steve’s pocket when he stripped his shorts off, and he opened Steve up hastily, meaning to slow down but too caught up in the taste and feel of Steve to actually do it. It didn’t help that there was a selfish part of him that wanted the next time Steve came to be on his cock, and he was running out of time if the way Steve was fucking himself on his fingers and pleading for more was any indication.
Steve did not disappoint, gasping at the long, burning slide, his legs quivering on Tony’s shoulders, his face so open and wrecked that for a few desperate seconds, Tony worried he was going to come as well. It didn’t help that Steve was tight and slick and unbearably hot, or that his body kind of rippled around Tony’s cock.
He was amazed at himself for not succumbing, truth be told, but the delay was worth it for the look on Steve’s face when Tony started to thrust, for the little spurts of precome splashing across his stomach every time Tony tagged his prostate, his face twisting up in agonized ecstasy like he didn’t know what to do with that much pleasure. Tony had no idea how Steve had anything left in him, considering all the times he’d orgasmed already, but he couldn’t object. Steve painted such an obscenely pretty picture covered in his own come, and it seemed a sin not to keep adding to it.
After he’d wrung two more orgasms out of Steve and come hard enough to make himself dizzy, Tony desperately wanted a shower, but he couldn’t exactly get naked without revealing his deception, and Steve kept kissing him, over and over again, like he’d never get enough.
Later, he swore to himself. Later, he’d tell Steve the truth.
For right now, however, duty called, Steve rubbing his persistent erection along Tony’s hip and making gorgeous, bitten-off moans from the friction on his oversensitive cock. He dragged Steve to the bathroom with half-formed ideas of blindfolding him and thanked his lucky stars for government funding when he saw the tiny shower stall. Even if Tony hadn’t been hiding, there was no way the two of them would’ve fit, and he said as much when he pushed Steve into the shower alone.
“Get cleaned up,” Tony said and left unspoken his plans to dirty him all over again. Steve seemed to understand anyway, however, hesitating for a split second before nodding and allowing Tony to close the door.
Tony peeled off his outer shirt but left his black undershirt on. It was bright enough in the room that the arc reactor shouldn’t draw too much attention, especially with Steve’s being so fixated on his cock. He washed up in the sink, leaving puddles of water all over the floor, and pulled on his boxers, wincing at the way they clung to his damp skin before hurrying over to the shower stall in time to see Steve masturbating.
Somehow, Tony wasn’t surprised.
Nor was he disappointed, not when Steve was wet and shiny and lit up like Christmas when he saw Tony standing in the door.
“Keep going,” Tony said when Steve would’ve stopped, and he enjoyed Steve’s blush altogether too much, but not as much as he appreciated the way the muscles of his arm and stomach bunched with each stroke, or the way Steve watched him, like it hurt to look away.
It took much longer for Steve to come that time, and Tony finally decided to show some mercy when Steve started making frustrated noises, his hand a near-blur.
“Turn around,” he ordered and soaped up his fingers, washing Steve inside and out, wiping away the traces of Tony’s come and leaving him barely able to stand.
Tony wondered if it was a sign that the effects of whatever had happened were wearing off, but the first thing Steve did when he came out of the shower was drop to his knees, sucking and working at Tony’s cock until he was completely hard again, and he supposed that answered that.
They finally made it to the bed then, and Tony eyed Steve, trying to decide if he could get away with riding him without drawing too much attention to the fact that his T-shirt was still on. Sadly, he had to give up on the idea, but it was one more reason to tell Steve the truth, because the thought of sitting on Steve’s cock made him more than a little breathless.
“Come here,” he said instead. “I want to try something.”
He bent Steve over the edge of the bed, stomach flat on the mattress, ass presented like an offering, and got down on his knees behind him.
“Tony,” Steve gasped at the first touch of his tongue, sounding endearingly shocked, and Tony knew that he was the first person to ever do this to Steve.
He had to close his eyes at the realization, and the words came out husky when he asked, “Do you like that?” He dipped his tongue into the slight indention, pressing against the muscle that guarded Steve’s hole just in case Steve needed a reminder.
“I—” Steve didn’t finish, just stayed frozen in place, and Tony could feel a fine trembling running over his body.
“I like it,” Tony said, and he used his thumbs to pull Steve’s cheeks apart. “I love it.” He let a little saliva pool in his mouth before he leaned forward, licking wetly all over the flushed skin.
“You shouldn’t—” Steve tried again, his thighs and buttocks tensing, and Tony had to let out a slow exhale at the view. Steve didn’t try to pull away, though, didn’t move so much as as inch. “Are you sure—?”
“Do you want me to stop?” Tony asked, and he sucked gently, undulating his tongue.
Steve let out a broken sound, and it was a long time before he finally managed to whisper, “No,” but Tony rewarded him anyway, wriggling the tip of his tongue inside.
Tony rimmed him for a long time, adding fingers when Steve begged for something deeper and licking at the taut skin surrounding them as he fucked Steve. He didn’t stop until his jaw was aching and Steve was nearly sobbing into his arms with four fingers inside of him, his hole red and swollen, glistening with excess lube that leaked out and left trails down Steve’s splayed thighs.
He hadn’t forgotten his promise to Steve, and he decided it was more than past time to keep his word, so turned on that he actually felt drunk on lust.
He put Steve on his knees on the mattress, pushing his head down and spreading his legs wide to make room. Steve enjoyed that if the shiver was anything to go by, and Tony went one step further, putting his hand on Steve’s back and keeping him in place. Steve whimpered so sweetly at that that Tony made a mental note to see how Steve felt about restraints.
The thought of Steve tied down for his pleasure, unable to do anything but just take what Tony had to give, was so delicious, however, that Tony couldn’t resist teasing him a little, even if it meant torturing himself in the process. He couldn’t help it. Steve just looked so pretty when he begged.
He took his cock in hand and rubbed it against Steve, sliding the end up and down and nudging at his balls before dragging it back up in order to press shallowly inside and then repeating the whole process over again.
Steve hated it, shoving back to try to force Tony in deeper, arching his back and raising his ass higher every time Tony wandered away. He even began lifting up off the bed, but stilled under the weight of Tony’s hand, crumpling back into position.
“Please, Tony, you can’t—”
“I can’t what?” Tony asked, breath coming faster now, his free massaging Steve’s ass and pulling the cheek to the side so he could watch Steve’s hole clench as he went by, greedy and insatiable. “What do you want, Steve?”
“I want you—”
“You have me,” Tony gasped, giving up on teasing and just fucking Steve with the head of his cock at that point, in and out, in and out. He wondered how long it’d take him to get it back up if he lost it right then and there. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Please, Tony,” Steve said, voice cracking with desperation, and Tony stuttered to a stop for a long moment before he let out a low curse and gave Steve exactly he wanted.
“Tony, Tony,” Steve moaned, babbled almost, so, so grateful, his fingers digging into the sheets as Tony fucked him, slamming into him at brutal pace.
It took everything he had not to come, and he got lost in the rhythm, in the rise and fall of Steve’s cries. He stopped keeping track of how many orgasms Steve had; all he cared about was getting deeper and deeper, in feeling Steve come apart all around him. At some point, Steve’s knees gave out, and Tony rode him down, thrusting in even harder to make up for the change in angle.
“Tighten up,” Tony growled, when Steve was just a limp mess underneath him and he’d begun chasing his own orgasm at last. He’d pushed it off for so long that he’d actually hit a plateau, and Steve, while lovely all debauched and covered in sweat and come, was just slick enough and loose enough that Tony needed a bit more.
Steve didn’t seem to hear him at first, little grunts falling from his mouth in a steady stream, and Tony had to repeat himself, finally had to pull out to get his full attention, Steve frantic and reaching back to clutch at him.
“Tighten up for me, baby,” Tony said, sliding two fingers into him in order to feel how hot and wet he was, because Steve wasn’t the only one suffering; he was just more vocal. “Can you do that?”
“Like this?” Steve asked, his voice ruined, but he still managed to obey beautifully, squeezing down until it was a struggle for Tony to slip back into him.
“Just like that,” Tony gasped, plunging deeper, and he rewarded Steve the best way he knew how, grinding against his prostate at the end of every stroke until Steve was shivering constantly, his moans full of praise and pleading both, before Tony finally let himself go.
He felt like his body had turned to jelly afterwards, and it took a lot of control to not just fall over on his side. He couldn’t even do much more than pat Steve soothingly when he moaned as Tony pulled out, although thankfully, Steve didn’t seem to resent his need for rest, staying collapsed on his stomach, even though he was in the wet spot.
They were quiet for a long time, and Tony would’ve been happy to let the silence go for a lot longer yet, but the guilt that had been squirming in his gut was determined to have its way. “So . . .” he said, looking sidelong at Steve. “I feel like I haven’t been completely honest with you. Not that I lied! But yeah, not completely honest either.”
Steve cracked open the eye that wasn’t currently mashed into the mattress, but he didn’t react otherwise.
“So you know how I said I was a contractor with SHIELD? That might have been a slight exaggeration.”
Steve blinked at him.
“Like I do work with SHIELD,” Tony hastened to reassure him, “but I don’t get paid. Well, I mean they do pay me for some stuff, but not everything.”
“Just spit it out, Tony,” Steve said, and seriously, if Steve always sounded sex-raw like that, he was going to have Tony wrapped around his finger.
“Right. Right.” He took a deep breath. “So Fury didn’t actually send me. Although he should’ve. Because I did an outstanding job if I do say so myself of taking care of you.” He coughed at the look on Steve’s face. “Anyway, I just wanted to see you. Hi, hello, I’m Tony Stark. Also known as Iron Man. Nice to meet you.”
Steve stared at him for a long moment before asking, “Is that all? Tony, as soon as you unbuttoned your shirt all the way, I put two and two together and realized who you were.”
“What?” Tony demanded, rising up on his elbows, because he’d been sweating in clothes for what felt like forever, and Steve had already known?
“You’re . . . glowy,” Steve said, a trifle apologetically. “It was kind of obvious. Besides, they wouldn’t have let just anyone in here,” he explained with what Tony felt was way too much reasonableness, and Tony decided he should go into the whole circumventing SHIELD security thing later.
“You knew and you didn’t say anything?”
“You didn’t say anything either.”
“Yes, but that’s because I was on the down-low! What’s your excuse?”
Steve rolled his eyes before tugging Tony in for another kiss, and yeah, okay, fair point.