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"Iron Man?" Steve crouched down beside the inert figure sprawled in a clump of vegetation. "Iron Man? Can you hear me?" He grasped the armour at the shoulder and shook, cautiously. The helmet waggled back and forth, but there was no response. "Tony?"

Nothing.

And everything had been going so well. They'd landed, gotten in, broken up a Hydra cell, and gotten all the way back to the Quinjet with very little in the way of incident. Maybe it's not really the Savage Land, Iron Man had joked, The Quinjet's not even scratched.

He'd probably jinxed them, and now - he could have a broken neck or anything. Steve stopped shaking him.

"Um... armour?" he said after a moment. "Armour, can you hear me?"

"Voice print recognised," Iron Man's voice came from the armour, somehow with even less expressiveness than usual. "How may I assist, Captain?"

"Is Tony all right?"

"Systems indicate no major injuries. Mr Stark is currently unconscious, and may be suffering from a concussion."

"Right." Steve sat back on his heels, conscious of a surge of relief. "Can I see him?"

"Uncertain command. Please restate, Captain."

"Open the faceplate."

The mask slipped back, revealing Tony's peaceful face. Steve patted his cheek and called his name, then ventured to pet the elegant line of brow and cheekbone. Tony was quite unfairly handsome, even knocked silly. Steve tugged off his glove to touch the neatly trimmed beard - silky one way, bristly and sharp the other - and then brushed his thumb over Tony's lower lip, a little swollen. He would have been chewing it like he always did when he was worried, little beads of sweat forming on his skin, a line between his neat brows.

Steve pulled away his hand, and put his glove back on. Crushing on a handsome, capable, charming teammate was natural and understandable. Taking advantage of his unconsciousness to fondle him was not.

Not that it had really been fondling; the armour prevented any... liberties. If Tony wore a tight, flimsy suit like Spider-Man or Giant Girl -

"Why'd you stop?" Tony's voice broke into his thoughts. Steve looked up to meet still-dazed blue eyes, half shut. "That felt good."

"Uh - " Steve could feel his exposed ears turning pink as Tony gave him a wicked little smile.

"Pet me some more, handsome," Tony invited, and Steve's hand twitched before he remembered that Tony probably had a concussion.

"You were knocked unconscious by the monster in the engine," he said instead, and Tony's smile faded. "How do you feel?"

"Confused. What monster? What engine?"

"When we got back to the Quinjet? Something had made a nest in the engine, and it got a bad knock on you." Steve glanced up at the jet's bulk. Would it fly with an engine so badly damaged?

"What's a Quinjet?" Tony followed his gaze. "Is that a Quinjet? It's nice."

"You built it," Steve said. "You don't remember?"

"No. Why am I, and my shiny jet, out in a jungle with a Captain America impersonator?" He lifted a hand and inspected his gauntlet while Steve sputtered over impersonator. "And what am I wearing?"

"I think," Steve said coolly, grabbing for what was left of his composure, "We should get in the Quinjet."

"Privacy?" Tony swept his gaze up and down Steve's body, then met his eyes and gave him a small, salacious smile that made Steve flush with heat. "I like the way you think."

*

Tony had been able to waddle the armour up the Quinjet's ramp, and was now removing it under the armour's own instructions, droning off technical specifications while Tony nodded and frowned. Steve sat in the pilot's chair and focused on poking at the comm system, trying in vain to raise a signal. Safer than staring at Tony slowly revealing more and more lean muscle and and tanned skin. He angled his chair just to... keep an eye on Tony, just in his peripheral vision. Just in case.

"And this." Tony touched his hand to the blue glow in his chest. "What's this?"

Steve looked round, interested. He'd caught glimpses of it before, but never liked to ask questions; Tony was always very prompt to cover it.

"Arc reactor," the armour told them. "Primary power source for the Iron Man. Life support system for Tony Stark. Technical specifications unavailable."

Steve stared at the steady blue light. Life support? That meant -

"Do you know about this?" Tony snapped, and Steve jerked his eyes upwards, as embarrassed as if he'd been staring at Tony's groin.

"No?" he said meekly. "I never liked to ask."

"You've seen it before, then." Tony picked his way through the armour laid out on the deck, and Steve watched his advance with some apprehension. Tony didn't usually wander about in nothing more than snug black briefs, and it was... disconcerting. Disconcerting, yes, Steve was disconcerted, and he'd really prefer Tony put some pants on. He opened his mouth to suggest it, and then snapped it shut as Tony loomed over him, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and getting right up into Steve's face. There was a distinctly predatory cast to his smile. "When did you see it... what did you say your name was?"

"Steve."

"Steve." Tony eased forward until they were nose to nose. "Why do I have a life support system which is also some kind of super-battery embedded in my chest?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugged. "You're... you're quite private. I don't want to pry. I didn't know it was life support. Are you - " he stopped before he could ask pointless questions. Are you sick. He didn't want Tony to be sick, but anything involving a life support system had to be serious.

Some of his distress had to be visible; Tony's face softened a fraction, and he cupped Steve's jaw.

"It's all right," he murmured, and Steve felt a pang of guilt that Tony was comforting Steve. "Don't you worry about it." Then he kissed Steve, slick and rough, his weight settling onto Steve's thighs.

"Mmph," Steve said, and Tony took advantage of his surprise to thrust his tongue into Steve's mouth, sloppy and insistent. Steve put up his hands to grab Tony's shoulders and put him away, but he'd forgotten about the lack of clothes and somehow his hands snagged on the feel of Tony's muscles, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each grabbed breath, and he ended up pulling off his gloves to find out if Tony's skin was as smooth as it had looked.

Tony bit his lip, sharp, making Steve's eye water. He'd always imagined Tony as gentle. He was such a kind man; the Tony of Steve's imagination had been cautious of Steve's inexperience, handled him with care. This was rough, almost violent, hands digging in so hard it ached a little even through the leather, the sucking and biting of his mouth edging from pleasure to pain and back.

Of course, Tony didn't remember Steve didn't do this sort of thing often -

Tony didn't remember anything.

Cursing himself for a fool, Steve locked his hands on Tony's biceps and pushed him back. His grip weakened at the sight of Tony's mouth, smeared all round with wetness from their messy kisses, but when Tony's eyes slitted open to glare, he forced himself to hold on. Tony never glared at Steve.

"Problem?" Tony said, voice unsoftened by lust or affection. He sounded like he was addressing a recalcitrant employee.

"You have amnesia." Tony's eyebrows arched, an elegant little duh. "So we can't - do this."

"Don't be silly," Tony said imperiously. "Just because I can't remember you, doesn't mean we can't fuck."

"It would be taking advantage," Steve flushed at the derisive noise Tony made. "Well, it would."

"I don't see why fucking you is suddenly verboten because I've bumped my head," Tony wriggled against his grip, puzzlement furrowing his brow at Steve's inflexible grip. "Are you my ex? Did I swear never to touch you again?"

"We're not - we're just friends," Steve said feebly, and Tony snorted. "What?"

"You have been panting after me like a spaniel after a treat since I opened my eyes. Either you've got a head injury fetish, or your barely restrained lust is on constant display. Why wouldn't I take a turn?" He looked down at Steve's body. "Everything about you says fuck me, and I - "

"No," Steve blurted, aware of tight misery in his gut. Was it really that obvious? And that meant - he'd known Tony wasn't interested, known he liked women, but hearing it so bluntly stated, that Tony knew at a glance he could have Steve, and had just chosen not to - but Tony liked women, it wasn't like it was anything to do with Steve.

But if Tony liked women, why was he sitting almost-naked in Steve's lap?

"Come on," Tony murmured, and dipped his head close. "You've wanted this a while, haven't you? It's all yours. Let me show you a good time, Steve. I can be very good to you." The slow dip of his lashes, and Steve lifted his mouth into the kiss, feeling his stomach do a slow flip. Maybe - maybe if - when Tony was back to normal he'd remember he liked it, and -

No, Tony would be hurt and betrayed, because Steve took advantage of him, and the mental picture of Tony's hurt, puzzled face - how could Steve do this to him? - gave him the strength to pull away. Tony let out a hiss between his teeth,

"What now?"

"You're not into guys," Steve said firmly, and Tony cast an eloquent glance down at the bulge in the fine black fabric of his briefs, where the waistband was stretched away from his belly to reveal the thicket of black hair. "You - you hit your head, and I think you're a bit confused."

"Are you suggesting," Tony shaped the words with exquisite care, "That a head injury has made me gay?"

"...possibly?" Steve tried to look anywhere but at Tony's disbelieving face. Was that how it worked? Steve had known a man in the War who'd taken a head injury and started speaking Spanish, when he swore he'd never known a word of it before. A confused liking for dick seemed a small thing in comparison.

"Okay, I figured it out."

"You did?" Steve looked up hopefully to meet Tony's cool blue gaze.

"I never fucked you because you're completely featherheaded."

Steve let go of Tony's arms, and then folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them. Tony slipped out of his lap, and Steve heard his bare feet slap on the deck as he walked away. Rattles and bangs as he searched through lockers, and then the crack-hiss of a soda can being opened.

"Do you think the Quinjet will still fly?" Steve said finally.

"I can't imagine designing a jet so woefully lacking in redundant systems," Tony's voice floated back to him. "Wait, aren't we waiting for rescue?"

"No. Not if we can get out ourselves. The Savage Land is dangerous."

"Which is why we should be rescued," Tony padded back into view. "Why are you wearing a Captain America suit, anyway? I'd assumed it was to cater to my depraved fantasies, but I guess not."

"You have - " Steve stopped. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. It's a long story."

"Sure it is." Tony rubbed his temple, frowning.

"You okay?"

"Feeling a bit woozy. Going to lie down for a bit."

"You shouldn't sleep with a head injury." Tony was already pulling one of the fold-out bunks down from the wall.

"Wake me in an hour," Tony tossed back over his shoulder. Steve nibbled his lip. Tony seemed all right; an hour should be fine. Safer than trying to pilot while woozy, anyway. He'd get the jet prepped for takeoff.

*
Oooo," Tony mumbled, when Steve gently shook him awake. "Ow. Hey, Cap."

Cap.

"You're back," Steve said in blissful relief, and when Tony tried to sit up, he squeaked as he was clasped against Steve's chest. "I'm so glad."

"What? But I - oh." Tony's expression passed through a series of rapid changes, and Steve realised that under the circumstances - specifically, the circumstance where Steve had made out enthusiastically with Tony while his mind was disturbed - well, Tony might not feel like being cuddled by Steve.

When he tried to disentangle himself, though, Tony's arms slid round his neck.

"Sorry," Tony whispered in his ear.

"You're sorry?"

"I wasn't very nice to you. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Steve hugged him again, hurt soothed away. The real Tony liked him, didn't glare and take verbal swipes, and that was better than any number of kisses from that hot skilled mouth. "You were hurt, and - " he stopped. Tony's mouth took another cautious nip at his jawline. "What - what are you doing?"

"Now I know you're smarter than that," and Tony covered Steve's mouth with his, soft and sweet and oh yes, that was just how he'd imagined it, that slow teasing tongue coaxing his lips apart, pulling a moan from his throat. Tony slipped the cowl away and pushed his fingers into Steve's hair, urging him closer, tipping them both back onto the bunk. Somehow Tony managed to get them arranged so Steve was sprawled out on top of him, Tony's long legs hooked over his and those strong, clever hands pulling at Steve's belt buckle, and soon he'd be skin on skin with Tony and then -

"Wait," he mumbled as Tony unzipped his pants.

"Hm?" Oh, contact, Tony's hand right there, God, five minutes more -

"Wait," and he pushed himself away from Tony, up on to his knees, and suprisingly, Tony made a noise of approval.

"Yeah, let me - " he pulled Steve's pants down over his hips, and licked his lips at the sight of Steve's dick, which was so ridiculously sexy Steve's knees almost gave way and dumped him onto Tony.

"No," he barked, and Tony's hands froze, gaze darting from Steve's dick, which was twitching of its own volition towards Tony's hand, to Steve's face, which must look positively anguished with the intense effort of turning down Tony again.

"You - we're moving too fast?" Tony eyed his dick again. "I would, I would just like to jerk you off, you don't have to - "

Steve rolled off the bunk and thumped the three foot to the deck. It cut Tony's words clean off, and by the time Tony's head appeared over the side, Steve had mostly gotten his pants done up again, against his body's protests.

"We... don't seem to be understanding each other very well," Tony said carefully. "You don't want that? Us?"

"Head injury," Steve croaked, and tried to will his erection to subside a little. Tony's bedhead seemed simultaneously adorable and breathtakingly sexy. It was just hair, in a mess. Nothing to get excited about.

"I feel fine," Tony nodded, as if to demonstrate the fine condition of his head. "Just a little lump. Be gone in a day or two."

"I mean, you're... you don't usually..." Steve flapped a hand between them, trying to indicate the general previous lack of this kind of thing. Tony smiled at him, a soft curve that Steve wanted to kiss.

"Well, I never said anything because I didn't think you were interested. When I realised you were, well." He batted his eyelashes. "So..?" He patted the bunk, and arched an eyebrow invitingly.

"But you don't like guys!" Steve said desperately. "You date hundreds of women, and I've never seen you with a guy, and then you hit your head and suddenly you're all over me?"

"Call me a coward if you want," Tony's lips tightened, "But I generally keep my male partners on the down-low. It would just be one more piece of vicious gossip for the tabloids."

"I don't think you're a coward," Steve sat up and grabbed for his hand. "I didn't mean - " he stopped. Tony was a wily man, quite willing to play fast and loose with the truth. "You could be just saying that to make me feel better."

"You think I'm lying to you?"

"Would you lie to get me into bed?" Steve countered, and Tony's eyes slid away.

"It... well, it would depend on the lie..."

"Well, there you are." Steve got to his feet, and Tony made a sad, sad noise and turned wide despairing eyes on him. "Let's get you back to the Mansion, okay?"

*
"And Tony has asked me to tell you that sexual orientation cannot be changed by a blow to the head," Dr Blake glanced at his pad, and Steve shuffled his feet and stared past the doctor's shoulder. "I mean, the brain is an odd thing, but I'd say it's vanishingly unlikely. Okay?"

"Okay."

"He also asked me to tell you blue balls was a very serious medical condition, but that's definitely a lie." Dr Blake grinned. Steve blushed. "Run along now."

"Right."

Steve plodded up the stairs, considering the matter. Tony couldn't be too mad, if that last little jibe was any indication. All right, Steve had made quite the fool of himself, but he'd had the best intentions and Tony wasn't an unreasonable man. It wasn't like Steve had been, well, a cocktease for fun. It had just happened. And it wasn't as if Steve hadn't found it every bit as frustrating.

Tony would forgive him, he was sure. Steve would change, and then he'd go find Tony, and make his apologies, and maybe then he'd finally get to -

The doorhandle to his bedroom turned in his hand, and then pulled out of his grip as the door opened. Steve blinked at Tony, who was tapping his foot and gesturing to him to enter. He was down to his underwear again, Steve noted happily. That was very promising. Steve made a mental note to ask him about the arc reactor thing; tomorrow, maybe. Later, anyway.

Tony sighed, and then grabbed his ear and dragged him in.

"Ow," Steve got an arm round Tony's waist and kicked the door shut behind him. "Let go."

"Steve, let me make this clear," Tony pinched, and then let go. Steve gathered him closer, petting all that lovely smooth skin. "We are going to have sex, right now. Then probably again."

"I can do three or four times in a row, no problem," Steve said helpfully, and Tony stalled, mouth half open.

"Really? Wow." He looked Steve up and down. "Anyway, the point is, there are no further objections to us having sex. I have a doctor's note saying I like dick. My memory is intact. No more problems, right?"

"Right. Now? Please?" Steve slid a hand down over the curve of his ass, and squeezed.

"And we, uh," Tony stalled out again, and went pink. "Afterwards, I would. I would like."

"Anything." Steve nudged Tony towards the bed, and he took two steps and then stopped. "Really, anything you like."

"I want to take you out to dinner." Tony ducked his head as if embarrassed. "I want us to date."

"Anything you like," Steve pushed him gently back until the bed hit the back of his knees and he sat down. "I - " I love you, but it was far too soon for that. A month or two. "Dating sounds great. Sex now, though."

"Yeah," Tony gave him a brilliant smile, and went for his belt; Steve gave him just long enough to undo his pants before tumbling him back onto the bed, pinning him down. "Mm, yeah. I love it when you manhandle me."

"When do I manhandle you?" Steve protested, getting his hands full of firm muscle, making Tony purr.

"When we spar," Tony spread his legs, and Steve settled between them, only Tony's briefs separating their flesh. Steve rolled his hips experimentally, and the slide and pull made Tony arch and spread wider, scrabbling his heels up on Steve's rear. "Yeaaah... just like that."

"Spar?" Steve tried to focus past the raw pleasure of rutting against Tony's warm, welcoming body. "Are you - when we spar?"

"Whenever you pin me down and scold me for not paying attention, I think of you punishing me." Tony's fingernails dug in to Steve's back just above the waistband of his pants, urging him faster; he kept the pace slow. "With your dick. Inside me."

"How... how is that a punishment."

"Well, I scream and - " Tony's voice seized in his throat as Steve's cock slid between his thighs. "And I beg for mercy, Steve, please."

"Can I - can I do that now?" Another push of his hips, and he was nudging right up against that hot tight place, fabric damp between them, and Tony whimpered.

"Lube," and Steve did have an unopened bottle of lubricant tucked away at the back of his nightstand drawer, next to an equally unopened packet of condoms. Just in case.

Fetching it meant pulling away from Tony's grip, but when he rolled back with bottle and packet, Tony had finally gotten rid of his briefs and was naked.

"You're beautiful," Steve told him with all sincerity, but Tony snorted and took the lube from him.

"Get the condom on, I'll be - one minute - " his face scrunched up as he pushed three wet fingers into himself, and Steve put out a hand to slow him. "No, no - can't wait any longer, dammit - "

Steve held him still, and Tony whined and squirmed in his grip.

"Hate you," he tried to glare, and failed. "Please, Steve, need it. You." His tongue slid out over his lips.

"Gently," Steve eased his grip, and let Tony work his fingers deeper. Pink shining flesh stretched around his tanned fingers, and Steve swallowed. "You, that's - "

He leaned in, kissed Tony's wrist, then the back of his hand. He put his palm flat against Tony's thigh, urged it up and back, holding him open, and Tony stilled his fingers, breathing hitching in anticipation.

Licking him here felt like - like his mouth, soft tender slickness, delicate skin quivering under his lips and tongue. The taste richer, muskier under the surface notes of lube and sweat, the metallic taste on Tony's fingers. He slipped his tongue into the spaces Tony was making in himself, heard his breathing rasp and catch, felt the shudder run through him. Felt it through his palm, on his tongue, as Tony's body tried to squeeze shut and failed.

"Please," Tony's free hand fumbled into his hair, and pulled. "Steve? Please?"

Steve couldn't speak, somehow. He scrabbled for the condoms and managed to get one on, ignoring the insistent tugs on his hair until everything was in place and nicely slippery. His dick ached when he stroked it slick.

Then he gathered up Tony's thighs and folded him backwards, pushing and spreading to get him as open as possible, so Steve could get all the way inside him, and Tony burrowed his hands under Steve's leathers and muttered to him, soft and urgent but Steve couldn't make out a word over the roaring in his ears. It didn't sound one bit like no or even wait, so Steve would just have to find out later.

He almost lost it entirely on the first slow push; Tony cried out desperately and left what were surely going to be spectacular scratches on his back, but that was nothing compared to the way he constricted and embraced Steve inside, the grip seeming not to expel the intruder but draw him deeper, encourage him in, all of Tony's body trying to pull him closer.

"Tony," he heard himself groan, and he could barely recognise his own voice, wobbly and uncertain. "Oh yes."

Tony couldn't even manage words in response, just a drawn-out low sound. He fumbled a hand up to Steve's shoulder and pulled him down for a kiss, his thighs splaying wider between them. Steve rocked his hips with great care, testing the resistance, looking for pain, and Tony made soft choked noises against his lips. No tightness around his eyes or mouth, no muscle flexing in his jaw, only ecstatic slackness, and his body gave way beautifully, like Steve was meant to be there, like there was a space in Tony just waiting for Steve to find and fill it.

He pulled out, and pushed back, slow and careful, ignoring the soft dizzy murmurs of harder and more. Of course Tony wouldn't break, Steve knew better than that, but Steve wasn't ashamed to be sentimental, and if he had the urge to take care of Tony, well, there was no reason he shouldn't indulge himself. If he wanted to be gentle with Tony, he could.

And it was so easy to be gentle, each lazy thrust getting a shudder, a low moan, a slow wet kiss. Tony turned docile after a little while, stopped trying to urge him faster, and the sweet acceptance, the sleepy pleasured look in his eyes, made Steve's gut ache with heat.

"Love you," he whispered, and he hadn't meant to say that so soon but Tony arched against him, mouth falling open on a gasp as if Steve had put a hand on his cock. "So glad..."

He let the sentence die incomplete, and buried his face in Tony's throat, pressing his lips to the damp skin. Tony sighed, a raw sound Steve could feel, and tried and failed to spread even wider, as if he could take Steve any deeper.

He wanted Tony to come; like this, pinned and spread under his weight. Helpless to do anything but take it. His hands were busy holding Tony's thighs apart, and he didn't want Tony to touch himself; he wanted to give this to Tony, wanted to do it to him, pull him apart entirely unassisted.

Hard and fast would do it, but Steve would have to pull back for that, just a bit, but too far. A different angle, perhaps. Steve wriggled, and repositioned his knees, and tried another stroke; then another. When Tony's teeth dug into his lip, he knew he had it.

Slow and firm, grinding himself steadily into the tender place that sent shivers coursing through Tony's body, made his hands fall loose to the bed where they clenched empty air. He asked for harder in a tone that said he knew he wasn't going to get it, and he didn't seem upset by that.

The tension grew and built in him, in his thighs and his neck and his belly and his ass, winding him tighter around Steve, until something like distress showed in his wide eyes.

"Just like this," Steve breathed, and Tony blinked sweat away to focus on him. "Come on, sweetheart, you can do it." Tony's lips parted, but no sound came; he sucked in a deep breath, and then held it in perfect silence as his whole body went rigid and he pulsed hard and hot over their bellies.

Steve kissed him then, muffling his moans, staying still through the quivers and twitches of his body, the almost excruciating spasms that went through his insides. Tony sucked on his tongue with an intense attention that made Steve's hips roll; Tony gave a pained whimper, and tightened around him, and that made Steve's cock jerk which got another noise of pain and tension and Steve pulled out before he could end by hurting Tony.

"Hey," Tony licked his lips. "You didn't - " he looked down to confirm, and Steve nodded, pulling free of Tony's embrace and letting his legs down. "But - " Tony looked affronted, endearingly so, and Steve managed a grin as he stripped off the condom.

"It's okay," and before Tony could object, he straddled Tony's chest and offered him his dick.

"Oh," Tony looked up at him, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Scoot forward a bit - "

Tony was clearly expert at this; he arranged a pillow behind his head and settled Steve in place, and then Steve thrust carefully into his mouth while he did sinfully wonderful things with his lips and tongue, one hand stroking what wouldn't fit in his mouth. The other hand very shortly nudged slick and cool into Steve's pants, and hooked two fingers inside him, and then it was all undignified writhing and panting and trying not to break free of Tony's wonderful hands and mouth until he actually did, just in time to come all over Tony's mouth and chin and throat, which he planned to be very apologetic for as soon as he could think past the raw satisfaction of seeing Tony marked like that.

"That was fantastic," Tony told him as he mopped up the mess with tissues. Steve thought that meant an apology wasn't due. "I have had fantasies where you were incredibly dirty, but I thought... well, I never thought any of this."

"It wasn't dirty." Steve frowned. "We just, uh..."

"Dirty, fantastic, entirely worth waiting for." Tony kissed his shoulder. "Three or four times in a row, you said?"

They both looked down at Steve's lap, which was loyally backing up Steve's words.

"Yes, but you aren't - "

"You get started without me," Tony said breezily, and hooked one leg around Steve's waist. "I'll catch up. Well, probably not up to four. Never mind. Just think of me as along for the ride."