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The Kissing Game

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When Tony gets home from work, his husband is standing on a chair in the kitchen.

“Here?” Steve asks. His hands are stretched up above his head and he’s holding a spring of mistletoe against the ceiling. He’s barefoot, and his shirt is hiked up, revealing pale white skin and a dusting of dark blond hair. Tony licks his lips.

Tigra and Ororo eye it thoughtfully. “Slightly to the left,” Tigra says with a grin and a flick of her tail, and Tony doesn’t realize what she’s doing until Steve shifts and suddenly the mistletoe is directly above Tony’s head.

“Hey, lover,” he says, tipping his head back.

Steve grins down at him, the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Hey, you.”

“Is that mistletoe or are you just happy to see me?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Steve says, but he shakes the mistletoe a little bit.

“I guess this means I owe you a kiss,” Tony says. He slides his hands up the back of Steve’s thighs but stops short of cupping his ass in front of their teammates.

“I could get down?” Steve offers. His tone is mild, but his eyes are focused on Tony’s mouth.

“No need.” Tony leans in and presses a quick, chaste kiss against the exposed strip of skin. “Of course,” he says, letting his breath puff over Steve’s stomach. “That is a lot of mistletoe. Maybe more than one is in order.” He presses a wet kiss against Steve’s belly and suckles a little, just enough to bring the blood to the surface and make the skin warm to the touch. He hears Steve’s indrawn breath and pulls away before they end up giving Tigra and Ororo more of a show than they ever wanted to see.

Well, Ororo anyway. Tony suspects Tigra would surprise him.

He rubs his hands up and down the back of Steve’s legs. “What do you think?” he asks, letting his mouth curve into a smile that always makes Steve’s eyes go dark with heat. “Was that a good enough kiss for a man with such a big… sprig?”

“Oh goddess,” Ororo says, “I don’t know why you insist on encouraging them.”

Tony grins against Steve’s stomach and presses another kiss to the skin just above the waistline of his jeans. “Are there any other surprises hanging around the mansion?”

Steve tosses the mistletoe to Tigra and steps down. Tony lets his hands slide up Steve’s legs until his arms are wrapped around his husband’s waist. “Maybe one or two,” he says, sliding his arms around Tony’s back. “Want me to show you?”

“Absolutely,” Tony says. “Maybe more than once.”