When Steve sighs, scrubs at the goo on his uniform and says, “Fuck, this shit is going to take forever to come off,” almost everyone turns to stare.
Steve glances up when he notices the silence, and then makes a face. “Really? Come on, guys- I was in the army, I was in a war.”
"O…kay," Tony says, reeling a little. "You were in a war. Got it."
It doesn’t come up again until later, when Steve complains about ‘the fucking jersey shore,’ and Tony can’t help the surprised look he shoots Steve’s way.
"Shut up," Tony says when Steve smirks. "I’m getting used to it. Give me a while."
"However much time you need," Steve nods. "I could start swearing all the fucking time if it’d help. Talk dirty to you, if it’d help shake off that innocent image of me you’ve got stuck in your head."
Tony chokes on a laugh and then smothers it with his hand. “Uh, the definition of ‘dirty talk’ has changed a bit since your time, Cap.”
"Really? Here I was, thinking it meant graphically describing what you want to do to someone in bed, my mistake."
Tony can admit he does a double-take. “Uh,” he says, and clears his throat. “I don’t really get what’s going on here,” he says finally, feeling more fumbling than he has in at least a decade.
At least Steve’s flushing a little, he thinks. There’s a definite red tinge to his cheeks as he leans in closer, a slight nervousness to his tone. “I was offering to talk dirty to you so you’d stop thinking I was such a stick in the mud.”
Tony considers. Steve’s from the 40s, he assumes dirty talk back then wasn’t as graphic as it is today. “Go ahead.”
Steve cocks his head at him, lets his gaze linger on Tony’s mouth and the exposed collarbone before saying, “Sometimes when you’re doing tune-ups on your armour I think about stripping you out of it and fucking you against the desk in your workshop until you scream for me.”
"Holy god," Tony hears himself say, and Steve grins before continuing.
“Your hands always look so good when you’re working on something, even when you’re just on your tablet, your fingers-” Steve looks down at them, presses a few of his own fingers into the crook of Tony’s knuckles. “I love your hands,” he admits. “Sometimes when you’re doing something that requires a lot of finger work I imagine your fingers inside of me, lighting me up inside.”
Tony has no idea how he got here, sitting on the couch with Steve sitting close next to him, eyes heavy-lidded and voice getting steadily lower.
“You’d- know your way around,” Steve says, and his fingers are still pressing slow lines into Tony’s hands, going slow around the pads of his fingers. “You’d know just what to do to make me squirm.”
“Thought you wanted to fuck me,” Tony says, trying to get his brain to work further than hothothot also what is happening.
Steve smiles, fingers up to Tony’s wrist now. “I’m versatile.”
Steve’s smile twitches. “I like it both ways. I like fucking someone, like how they feel around me, but I really- I love getting it. Getting fucked. I can really let go, I don’t have to hold back, and it feels-” Steve’s gaze drops to Tony’s mouth, not for the first time. “Feels good. Really good. Always feel relieved when I’m getting fucked, like I can’t get enough, like I’ve been waiting for it forever. Starving for it.”
He shifts closer up the couch, so they’re pressed arm-to-arm, and Tony notices the bulge in the front of Steve’s pants, sees Steve’s eyes flicker down to Tony’s tented slacks. “I like sucking cock, too,” Steve says, and he’s definitely blushing now, but his smile is real enough. He’s enjoying this. “Like how it feels in my mouth. Ever since I got the serum I don’t have a gag reflex, so I like to suck them in as far as I can and swallow around them until they come down my throat.”
Tony thinks he says something like, “Huh,” and nods a little, all too aware of how warm Steve feels against his arm, his ribs, his leg, pressing all the way down his left side.
“Yeah,” Steve says, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “Thought about that, too. You always look so good, I don’t get how anyone can look so good all the time. Morning, noon and night. I used to wonder if you got secret stylists to do you up, but I realized that they probably wouldn’t streak you with oil. Probably try to clean you up, which is a shame. You look good dirty.”
“Have you been sitting on the couch in my workshop with your sketchpad just to perv at me,” Tony says, and Steve shrugs.
“Only half the time, and it’s mostly an accident. I start sketching and it turns out as a drawing of you bending over to get a wrench, or stretching to get something so your shirt rides up. Or your hands, I gotta have at least a whole pad full of your hands.”
“Yeah?” Tony’s brain may only be half functioning, but this, he can manage. He can manage dirty talk while blackout drunk and designing things in his head at the same time. “Are my hands doing anything special?”
“Mostly just fixing stuff, like you do in your workshop,” Steve says, his mouth tantalizingly close. “But I have a couple of you sucking on your fingers, or biting them, or jerking yourself off. Some of them are of you jerking me off, but I don’t like drawing my own dick.”
“You haven’t seen my dick to draw it.”
“No, but I have Youtube, and there are some pretty interesting videos on there.”
Tony laughs. “You watched my sex tapes?”
“Did you get off to them?”
“The first one, yeah,” Steve admits. “Got hard pretty fast, thought I might as well. The others I mostly watched for sketching tips.”
“I’m going to find that sketchbook and frame everything,” Tony says, wondering if he should take care of the bulge in Steve’s pants now or later. Then Steve starts talking again and Tony decides later, this right here is too much fun.
“Got a lot of drawings of you fucking me, I think about that a lot. Can’t keep track when I watch you in your workshop, I’m always torn between blowing you, fucking you or riding you. And I can’t do all three, no offence, but the serum made me pretty much able to go anytime, and I don’t think you’d be able to keep up.”
“Hey,” Tony protests weakly.
Steve shakes his head. “Not insulting you, just stating a fact. People can’t keep up with me, not since the serum. I always have to go into the bathroom afterwards and jerk off a few times before coming back to bed.”
Steve’s fingers are trailing up the inside of Tony’s elbow now, and Tony settles a hand on Steve’s knee and squeezes. “I’m an inventor, you know. I could build you vibrators with more horsepower than most cars.”
“I’ll take you up on that sometime,” Steve says, and swallows, his throat bobbing. “Tony?”
“Have I convinced you?”
“Convinced me what?”
“That I’m not a stick in the mud.”
“Definitely, Steve,” Tony says, and Steve shivers as Tony’s hand moves higher up his thigh. “Though I’m hoping that wasn’t your only intention, here. You have an awful lot of fantasies I’d like to see come true.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Steve says, and closes the gap to lick past Tony’s lips. Their tongues meet, and Steve groans at the feel of it, pulling Tony sideways so he’s sitting with one leg on either side of Steve’s.
Tony grinds down and they part long enough to gasp.
“Shit,” Tony says, his fingers working to untie Steve’s sweatpants and shuck them down. “Any requests on the fantasy front, Cap?”
“Just,” Steve says, and his head shudders backwards at the first touch of Tony’s hand on his cock. “God, jerk me off, wanna see your hand around me.”
“Wish, command,” Tony says, and thumbs the plumy head of Steve’s dick, spreading slick. “God, you’re wet.”
“Mm,” Steve says, biting his lip through it, watching Tony jerk him off. “Yeah, it’s always like- always like this,” he gasps, and Tony bends to bite at the fluttering pulse in his neck.
Tony’s breath stutters as he feels Steve undo his slacks and pull his dick out, giving it a few quick strokes before circling his thumb around the head, rubbing the slit.
“Lick your hand,” Tony grunts. “Unlike others, I don’t produce precome at will.”
Steve huffs a laugh and Tony watches as Steve brings his own hand to his mouth and licks it, sucking on a few fingers before he returns his hand to Tony’s cock.
“You are dangerous,” Tony says, and Steve’s laugh turns into a stuttering moan when Tony uses his other hand to brush past his balls and rub against his hole. He keeps moaning like that, short, breathless things that get louder when Tony gathers up some of Steve’s precome and uses it to slick his finger enough to push it in.
He hardly manages a few thrusts of his finger before Steve is coming, pushing up into Tony’s hand, his fingers tightening around Tony’s dick as he rides it out. By the time he’s finished, he’s shaking and back to stroking Tony with a trembling hand.
Tony closes his eyes, rests his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. “How many times do you think you can go?”
Steve grunts, and then says, sounding like he seriously needs a drink of water, “Ah, six or seven on a good day.”
“I’m gonna have so much fun with- you,” Tony says, stuttering the last word as Steve sweeps his thumb over the crown of his dick. “Fuck. Steve, could I fuck you?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding and kissing Tony’s neck, his collarbone, sucking lightly. “Yes, please.”
“Yes, please,” Tony mutters against Steve’s throat, pushing Steve’s hand away so he doesn’t come before he gets to fuck him. “Man ambushes me with dirty talk about how he wants to get fucked and then says yes, please.”
“I’m a polite guy,” Steve says, and Tony snorts.