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Lack of Restraint

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“I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I think my mental fantasies are interfering with my real life again.” Because there’s no way Steve just said that. Tony’s not that lucky.

Tony,” Steve says, an edge of annoyance in his tone. It’s a clear sign to tread carefully since Steve’s patience usually borders on unlimited. “Be serious.”

“I was being completely serious. Some days I remain unconvinced that you didn’t step out of an adolescent wet dream.” Steve crosses his arms but looks reluctantly amused. He wears that expression around Tony a lot. “Also, I was completely serious about you repeating that, because if we can’t even talk about it, then it sure as hell isn’t happening.”

That makes Steve go thoughtful. He picks up and cradles the steaming coffee mug that he brought into the workshop. “I want you to tie me up,” Steve says finally, voice steady even as he refuses to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought you said,” Tony replies. “You mean, ‘I want you to tie me up during sex’.”

“Yes,” Steve agrees, blushing faintly along his cheekbones. The word no longer makes Steve twitch with shock, but Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever stop reacting with a hint of embarrassment, courtesy of his early upbringing. Tony hopes not, anyway. He’s cute when he blushes.

“Okay, then,” Tony says, and Steve blinks in surprise.

“That’s it? I thought we needed to talk about it.”

“No,” Tony disagrees, “I just said we had to be able to talk about it. You’ll have a safeword, though. That’s non-negotiable. You know what a safeword is?”

Steve nods earnestly. “I did some reading.”

“Good,” Tony says, “What else did you learn?”

“Safe, sane and consensual,” Steve replies immediately. That’s clearly a lesson committed to heart and not just to memory. “Also, there’s a lot of really weird stuff on the internet.”

Tony snorts, “That’s an understatement.” He focuses on his computer screen again, trying to remember what he’d been working on before Steve had interrupted, but his brain is stuck on the image of broad cuffs surrounding Steve’s wrists.

Steve fidgets for a few minutes and then asks, “And you’re okay with this?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay. Okay might be an understatement,” Tony admits, and Steve smiles.

“Good. Because, well. I’m not exactly sure how to go about it.” He pauses, his expression the same as when he’s considering the best strategy to use in a fight, and then shrugs, “I mean, most restraints won’t hold me.”

Tony mentally trashes the few scenarios he’d been running in his head for something with a little more substance. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

“Okay,” Steve says, shy and pleased. He gets up and kisses Tony on the cheek before wandering out again. It’s just a brief press of warm lips, but Steve’s casual acts of affection have always meant more to him than any grand romantic gesture.

He rotates the schematic currently open on his computer, and then stops kidding himself. It’s not like he’s going to be able to concentrate on anything but Steve after that conversation, so he closes it down. It shouldn’t take that long to hack into S.H.E.I.L.D. and find the force tolerance of their heaviest restraints.


Despite the fact that it almost kills him - patience has never been Tony’s strength - he waits a few days after his newly made restraints are finished before bringing up the subject. As much as it hurts to put off what Tony suspects is going to be really spectacular sex, it’s worth it for the shy, curious look that Steve gives him at times even though he doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Tony says, drawing out the sound and pausing until Steve looks up from the paper he’s reading. “I made you something. Want to come try it out?”

Steve is confused for a split second, and then it’s a toss up between scandalized and hopeful. “Are you talking about...” he trails off while looking around the empty kitchen as if someone might be lying in wait to hear them say something kinky.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind,” Tony says casually, and Steve stands to follow him so fast that he actually knocks his chair over. He rights it, blushing, but meets Tony’s eyes and doesn’t hesitate.

“Take off your clothes,” Tony says when they’re in his bedroom behind locked doors. Steve strips with an efficiency that Tony has only ever seen in people with military training. He’s not trying to be seductive, but Tony can’t help but watch appreciatively as all that skin is revealed. “Very nice,” he approves and motions Steve over to the bed.

Steve walks over and eyes the upgrades Tony’s installed into the bed frame, the thick black chords attached to broad metallic cuffs. He’s also reinforced the structure and bolted it into the floor joists, but those changes aren’t as visible.

Tony takes one of the wrist cuffs and snaps it into place, watching Steve’s face as the metal telescopes open, sending sheets of metal reaching out until it’s the size of a cast and covering most of his forearm.

Steve flexes and the metal shingles shift just enough to prevent bruising - no matter how hard he thrashes. He huffs out a small laugh. “Only you, Tony. Is this the same technology as your armor?”

“Similar,” Tony says. He presses the small white button on the side of the cuff. “What’s your safeword?”

“Brooklyn,” Steve provides promptly, and Tony nods, pressing the button again.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Brooklyn,” Steve repeats gamely, although his eyebrows have drawn together in confusion. Immediately, the metal restraints release, collapsing onto the bed and retracting into a single silver band.

“It’s automatic,” Tony says firmly. “Understand?”

“Yes,” Steve says with a soft smile, staring up at him with trusting eyes.

“Okay, then,” Tony says brightly. “Lay down. No, on your stomach,” he commands. It’s not as if he doesn’t tell Steve what to do all the time anyway, but usually he just smiles and then does whatever the hell he wants to do. This instant obedience is making Tony’s stomach twist and his cock harden.

He attaches the ankle cuffs first, spreading Steve’s limbs so that he’s stretched across the bed. When the final wrist restraint snaps into place with a mechanical whir, Steve’s breath hitches and his hips dig into the bed gently before he holds himself still.

“Try to get loose,” Tony encourages him, because if the system is going to fail, he’d rather it be right now, before they get to the interesting part. Steve squirms gently, but while the system allows a small amount of give, he can’t get free or change position. He pulls harder and then even harder. The black cords hum gently as they flex against his strength, but the system holds. Steve collapses back down on the bed, panting gently with what Tony suspects is more arousal than effort.

“You can’t get free,” Tony says, loud and clear and, yes, a little gleeful. Steve gives a little moan, whether at the thought or the sound of his voice, Tony can’t tell. “It’s genius, really, this system. I normally wouldn’t bore you with the details, but I’ve always enjoyed the sound of my own voice, and you’re a captive audience at the moment, aren’t you?”

“God, Tony,” Steve whines.

“You’re actually being restrained by a magnetic pull on the cuffs, and the cords are a type of suspension cable that feeds any resistance into a generator and increases the strength of the EM field.” Steve cranes his neck to try and see him, but he’s standing purposefully in a blind spot. He ditches his clothes in about ten seconds before he settles on the edge of the bed, taking a long moment to memorize the long lines of Steve’s body, his muscles bunching with wasted effort. “I told you, you can’t get free.”

Steve’s hips buck again, and yes, that thought is definitely getting him off. “You know, I have a theory about why you want this,” Tony begins thoughtfully, and Steve thrashes against the bonds in frustration.

“Oh my god, Tony, I knew it. I knew it was too easy when you just agreed like that.” He sounds completely petulant, and Tony smiles widely. “Listen,” Steve continues, “Are we going to talk, or are you going to give us what we both want and fuck me already?”

“I’m going to do whatever I want, and there’s only one thing you can say to stop me,” Tony says sweetly. Steve growls, and Tony cheerfully continues, “My theory is that this has to do with the bruises you gave me a couple of weeks ago.”

Steve stops straining to see him and rests his forehead against the mattress beneath him. “They were pretty bad, Tony. I could have hurt you.” His voice is small, and not just because it’s partially muffled against the sheets.

Tony reaches out a hand and places it on the small of his back, rubbing gently. Steve arches his back up into the touch, greedy. “You didn’t hurt me, Steve, and I know that you wouldn’t. I like it when you leave marks on me. I touch them later and remember your hands on me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his entire body is taunt, and Tony knows that he’s listening intently.

“It also occurred to me how much I like that I never have to hold back with you, but that you always have to keep yourself under control, which sucks.”

“I don’t care about that,” Steve says. “I don’t.”

“Of course not,” Tony agrees. “But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice to let go every once in a while. So here’s what we’re going to do: you’re not going to worry about anything, and I’m going to make you feel good.”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, sounding a little breathless, which was much better than the guilt that had been coloring his voice before.

“Glad you approve,” Tony says. “Because that’s what I was going to do either way.”

Steve chuckles a bit, but is distracted when Tony climbs all the way onto the bed, trying to track his movement.

“Hmm, look at you,” Tony says lowly and trails the fingers of his right hand down Steve’s spine. “I never have enough time to just look. We’re always so busy. Euphemism fully intended, by the way.” He hands follow his eyes, randomly touching whatever patch of skin catches his attention. Steve flinches, surprised each time, but then immediately pushes up into the contact. “You know, you’re really receptive to touch. I bet massage therapy would work wonders for you.”

The bed shakes gently with the force of Steve’s attempt to move his arms, probably to turn and grab him. It’s only when action fails Steve that he turns to words. “Tony,” he says, “Why are you still talking?”

“You’re absolutely right, what am I thinking? There are so many interesting things I could be doing with my mouth.” He crawls up and drapes himself over Steve’s back, letting his lips settle against the skin where neck meets shoulders and then bites down. He’s gentle at first, but gradually increases the pressure. He licks the skin when he finally releases it, noticing Steve’s hips moving up into his and then back to the friction from the sheets. “Do you think that will bruise?” Tony asks. No matter how rough he was, he never seemed to leave marks on Steve.

“Maybe?” Steve’s answer is delayed by a few seconds, clearly not paying him that much attention.

“Huh,” Tony says and seals his mouth around the bite to suck on it for good measure. Steve forgets that’s he’s tied up again and Tony’s treated to a close up view of his muscles bunching as he fights the restraints.

“Tony, just, please, I need you to touch me.” He sounds frustrated as hell.

“I am touching you,” Tony reminds him and shifts his weight so that their skin drags everywhere they’re pressed together.

“Yes,” Steve breathes, then, “I - more?”

“I could rub off on you,” Tony allows generously, “but I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“Please, yes, fuck me,” Steve begs, and Tony shivers at the need in his voice.

“That’s the plan,” Tony says absently, grabbing the supplies he’d left in the nightstand before turning his attention to Steve’s hands. “Wiggle your fingers,” he orders, and Steve frowns at him in confusion, but obeys. “No pain?”

“No,” Steve says, then grins. “Not from the restraints, anyway.”

“Yeah, aren’t blue balls hell?” Tony asks amused and checks Steve’s feet as well.

“Never knew you were such a tease, Tony.”

“I’m not, and you know it. Maybe I’ll show you what a real tease is later, just so you can tell the difference. For now, though...” Tony trails off and rubs his slick fingers against Steve’s opening. Steve arches his back, reaching for more, but he doesn’t have enough leverage to make much difference. Tony slides one finger in anyway, and Steve groans.

“Yes?” he asks and pauses, just to make Steve answer because there was no mistaking that sound for a bad one.

“Yes, Jesus, Tony,” Steve gets out. “More, please, you just said you weren’t a tease.”

So Tony opens him up and then slicks up the vibrator he’d grabbed earlier. He nudges the end against Steve to make him jerk and then carefully pushes it inside.

“That’s not your cock,” Steve pants.

“Nope,” Tony says and turns it on to the lowest setting without warning.

Steve makes a noise in his throat like an angry cat. “What,” he starts but gets interrupted by Tony pulling out the vibrator and then thrusting it back in.

“It was a good base design,” Tony says conversationally while Steve writhes in the restraints, “But I have to admit that I improved it a little.”

“Improved how?” Steve asks and then gasps as Tony flicks it onto a high vibration setting.

“I want you to come whenever you want. No holding back,” Tony says and twists the toy deeper.

Steve shudders, then manages, “Won’t. Be long.”

“Good,” Tony approves, and turns on the higher, variable speed he’d programmed.

Steve yells, and comes a few minutes later, hips pumping against the bed. Tony turns the speed back to low but doesn’t stop fucking him with the toy, his rhythm slow and easy. “Do you think you can come again?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” Steve moans, then breathes in harshly and adds, “As long as you keep doing that.”

So Tony keeps fucking him with the toy for long, uncounted minutes until Steve’s breath is catching in his throat with each thrust. He turns the speed up again, and Steve cries out. Tony grins, enjoying himself despite the ache building in his wrist.

“Tony,” Steve says, breathless, “Talk, please.”

“Are you hard?” Tony asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes,” Steve replies.

“I wanted to make you come again before I fucked you, but I have to admit, the waiting is harder than I’d expected.” On the next stroke, Tony rubs his neglected cock against the inside of Steve’s thigh.

“You should, you should just fuck me now,” Steve responds, his fingers clenching and releasing, but no longer fighting the bonds.

“Oh? This isn’t enough for you?” He starts to thrust the toy with a little more force, and Steve moans.

“Yes. But I. I want,” he stammers, the muscles in his back and thighs twitching.

“What do you want?” Tony demands.

“Your cock,” Steve blurts out, and Tony shoves the vibrator in him and leaves it there while he slicks up his cock. Then he tugs the toy out and shoves into him. “Yes,” Steve hisses, as Tony starts to fuck him in earnest.

Tony bites his lip and tries to focus on not coming in two minutes, but Steve is tight around him, and he doesn’t know how long he’ll last. He takes the vibrator and shoves it beneath Steve’s body so that it’s rubbing and pulsing against Steve’s cock. Steve jerks, but he’s pinned between the dual sensations of the toy against him and Tony fucking him. His mouth opens on a silent scream, and he’s coming, again, body spasming but held secure.

“Steve,” Tony moans, “You feel so good.” He frees his hand and the vibrator from beneath Steve, throws the toy away and then braces himself to keep going. Steve’s breathing is ragged, and he’s twisting in the bonds in a weird way until Tony realizes that, bound and shaking with aftershocks, he’s trying to spread his legs even farther for Tony. “Shit, Steve,” Tony groans, and comes.

A few minutes pass with Tony collapsed against Steve’s back, panting against his sweat slicked skin, but then he pulls himself together and thumbs the manual release on Steve’s restraints. The mechanical whirl as they retract is almost lost under the sound of their breathing, and as soon as he’s loose, Steve moves them out of the wet spot and curls around Tony.

“So that went well,” Tony says when he no longer sounds like he’s finished running a marathon. “I think that went well.”

“Yes, Tony,” Steve says, sleepy and smiling at him. “I liked it.”

“Good.” Tony fingers the bite on Steve’s shoulder, which he can just see from his current position in Steve’s arms. It’s a dark pink instead of the purple-red he was going for, but when he presses down, Steve hums quietly and hugs him a little closer, and yeah. He’ll count that as a win.