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Steve's Senior Scrotum

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“What's it like being old, Steve? I mean, older. You have trouble scrubbing all the crud out of your wrinkly old ballsac?”

“That's what I have Tony for,” Steve commented, not missing a beat.

Clint fell out of his chair with a screech of disgust. He popped up with his hands held in front of him, fingers in a cross. “No! No! No, Steve, you are not allowed to say shit like that! What the hell man, I'm going to have that mental image burned into my brain for the rest of my hopefully short life.”

Steve shrugged. “You asked.”

Clint shook his head rapidly. “I didn't mean it. I never mean it, Steve, how could you?”

“What are we talking about?” Tony asked as he entered the room, though he had heard the whole conversation from the door.

Steve flipped through another spreadsheet on the screen in front of him, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Clint asked how I keep my old balls clean.”

Swooping into the seat next to Steve, Tony leaned in for a quick kiss. “Did you tell him I take care of it? With my personal ball-washer.” Making eye contact with Clint, Tony stuck his tongue into his cheek and rolled it around lewdly. Clint just rolled his eyes.

“See, I expect that sort of shit from Tony. Tony I can handle. It's hearing it come out of Captain America's-”

“That's just it though,” Tony pointed out cheerfully. “Steve's not Cap: Sam's Cap. Steve's just a 'private consultant'. Which means Steve, AKA Not-Cap, is free to say all sorts of life-ruining things. Isn't that right, snookums?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, though his gaze stayed fixed on the screens in front of him. “Maybe I'm just too old to care, now.”

Tony snorted and leaned in close to Steve. “Old man Rogers: yeah, right. If you weren't old before you sure as hell don't count as old now.”

Steve mock-frowned as he finally flipped through some last spreadsheets and then clicked off the screens. He turned to Tony with a smile, wrinkles stretching out all along his face. “Does this mean I'll never be old? No matter what?”

Tony shook his head with a grin and leaned in, wanting another kiss. “Sorry. Even with your balls hanging down to the floor, you're not old.”

Clint groaned and pushed up from his chair. “That's it! I'm out. Can't do it, I just can't. You guys keeping sucking each other's whatevers, no, please: don't explain. I'm gone.” With that, Clint bailed, hopping over a rolling chair just to take the straightest path out of the room as he could.

Tony laughed as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing Steve up. “I know you're the old man, but you're going to give him a heart attack if you keep talking like that.”

Steve grinned at Tony. That grin... It still made Tony's heart flutter, his own face light up in tandem, just to see that damn grin. Even different as it was now, even wrinkled and paler, little broken capillaries all over Steve's Irish skin giving him an almost Clausian rosy look. Through all those changes, that grin still shown out with the same force it always had.

“Clint'll get used to it. Or at least learn to stop goading me,” Steve replied. Then he glanced down, and yeah: Tony knew that look, too. Just as well as he knew the grin. “Though, his line of questioning did get me thinking...”

Tony was up from his chair in a flash, penis already filling to half-chub at the very thought. “Ten steps ahead of you, old man. Race you back to the bedroom.”

Steve arose heavily, one hand seeking out his cane hanging next to him on the table. He huffed as Tony started towards the door, Tony's knees hiking up to his chest in a mock-jog. “You know, if I planned enough for it, I probably could figure out a way to beat you there, even now,” Steve mused.

Tony snorted. “Short of you figuring out how to steal one of my armors, that's not happening. And no amount of planning's ever gonna get you that far.”

Steve hummed, a twinkle in his eye as he strode heavy-footed towards the door. “You sure about that, Shellhead?”

Tony scoffed as he fell into step alongside Steve. Their stride was different now, slower than in the past. But Tony was happy to slow his steps, to turn and walk backwards when jittery eagerness got too much, to walk in a circle around Steve so he'd use double the steps than Steve in his steady progression forward. Different, but still worked. Still fit.

When they reached their bedroom Tony wasted no time stripping himself as Steve headed over to the bed. Tony nodded at him as he eased himself down onto the edge. “Stay right there,” Tony told him. His pants dropped to the floor, belt clattering on the hard wood. “All this talk of ball-washing and now that's all I want to do.”

“Wash my balls?” Steve teased with a grin. He bent to undo his shoes, back slowly easing forward. Tony made a protesting noise and hurried over, batting Steve's hands away. He dropped a quick kiss to Steve's lips, pushing him up gently as he did so.

“Seriously, you stubborn bastard. I've got this,” Tony told him. His young, non-arthritic fingers made quick work of Steve's shoelaces before tossing the shoes aside. Semi-turgid penis bobbing between his legs, Tony rose to push Steve back onto the bed. His hands went to work at Steve's belt. Steve's hips helpfully lifted as Tony tugged his pants and underwear—tighty-whities, because Steve was a ridiculous cliché through and through—off in one movement.

Dropping back down to his haunches, Tony breathed out slowly and admired the view. Slowly Steve pushed himself back upright so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, penis and balls dangling over the edge. He reached up to rub the back of his head, rosy cheeks turning even rosier with a blush.

“Still not a hundred percent convinced you like doing this. I mean, don't know how you could-”

Tony shook his head, one hand coming out to rest on Steve's thigh in reassurance. He kneaded at the loose skin, the thinner muscles than he was used to feeling beneath his hands.

“Steve, you have my word: I am just as into your body now as I ever was before.”

Steve snorted. “Now I know you're bullshitting me.”

Tony shook his head, both hands coming up to knead at Steve's thighs. He breathed deep, eyes fixated on Steve's penis and balls. His ball sack hung lower now than it used to—leftie still drooped more than rightie, though, same as always. It wasn't cartoonishly long or anything, just dangled a few inches lower. In his younger, more promiscuous years Tony had been with a sprinkling of older men, and the experiences had been enough to inform him that Steve's equipment was nothing out of the ordinary, especially for a man the age he was supposed to be. Hell, the fact that it all still worked at all was something of a miracle—the fact that it could pretty much keep up with Tony was medically baffling. Seriously, Tony had started to keep some mental data, because healthy ninety-something year old or not, something mysterious had to be at work with Steve's physiology for him to still be as virile as he was.

“You just looking?” Steve asked as he reached forward, carding shaky fingers through Tony's hair. Tony leaned into the touch, eyes sliding closed for a moment.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. Then he opened his eyes and crawled forward a couple inches on his knees, bringing himself well ensconced between Steve's legs. Leaning forward, Tony pressed a kiss to the tip of Steve's penis, lifting up the skin a little so he could get to the head, still hiding beneath his foreskin. Tony smiled at the feel of it growing slowly more turgid in his hand as he kissed his way down the foreskin. Not as up-and-at-'em as it used to be, but definitely present and ready for the action.

When Tony reached Steve's balls, his gentle kisses turned more passionate, tongue darting out to curl around the sack, licking his way down and up again. Opening his mouth, Tony sucked one ball in, rolling the loose skin over his tongue and stuffing it into his cheeks. Above him, Steve grunted his approval, blunt fingernails scratching sweetly at Tony's scalp. Tony sucked in enough of the sack that his mouth was full of it, full of the extra length of skin until he felt like he might choke on it. His mouth watered, saliva spilling over to coat all the nooks and crannies.

With a gasp Tony released Steve, only to dive in and take the other ball in his mouth, sucking it in for more. Reaching between his own legs, Tony stroked himself a couple times, just to take the pressure off. Then he returned his full attention to Steve's balls. His hand came up to tug at Steve's other ball, pulling it as far away as he could from the ball currently in his mouth. Steve's breath hitched at that, fingers tightening in Tony's hair. Tony grinned and sucked harder at the ball in his mouth as he kept the other away. After a minute he let the ball fall from his mouth—low-hanging leftie—before quickly diving back in and scooping them both up, dribbling them into his mouth like whip cream straight from the can.

Tony moaned and rocked into Steve, nose bumping the underside of his penis as he sucked every last bit of ball and scrotum into his mouth. The musky smell of Steve hit him hard, sending a jolt of desire through his stomach and ending in his penis. Tony groaned and reached his right hand up to Steve's thighs, squeezing tight to steady himself. He pressed his face harder against Steve's groin, running his tongue roughly over the pile of balls and sack inside his mouth. Above him Steve moaned his approval.

Above his cheek, Steve's penis had swelled to a respectable erection, bobbing up and down with every movement of Tony's mouth. Taking just a moment to pull off and spit into his hand, Tony grabbed onto it and started stroking as he returned his mouth to Steve's balls. He let his teeth graze over the sensitive skin, just to hear Steve hiss and feel him twitch beneath Tony's touch.

“Always skirting the line,” Steve grumbled from above him. Tony just grinned and kept sucking, stroking his hand over Steve's erection at a steady pace. Steve's hips started moving, fucking up into Tony's tight fist.

Tony had to pull back only once more, thanks to some of Steve's wiry grey pubes coming off in his mouth. With little disregard for cleanliness—that's why robots existed—Tony spat onto the floor, then glanced up at Steve.

“You know, you used to shave,” he pointed out. His fist still pumped over Steve's dick, rolling the foreskin up and down with alternating strokes.

Steve's hands were curled on the bed from when Tony pulled away, cheeks flush and sheen of sweat coating his neck and chest. His curly grey chest hair trapped most of the moisture, looking like frost-covered grass in the early morning. Steve shrugged one skinny shoulder at Tony's complaint.

“Used to be I had more than three hairs all told on my sack. Whatever you just spit out was probably a good sixty-seven percent of my soldiers down there.”

Tony barked out a laugh, sharp and quick, before diving back down to Steve's balls. They were heavy and swollen now, getting ready to ejaculate. Tony moaned around them as his hand picked up the pace, coaxing Steve to orgasm with steady relentlessness. Steve's balls drew up tight before he even grunted. Tony grinned and sucked hard on them as Steve shot, spilling over his hand and dripping down his face. Tony closed one eye as he stood, grumbling. He was pretty sure some got in his hair.

Steve's hand was shaking badly as he reached out to Tony, coaxing him to the bed. Tony batted weak attempts to grab at his erection away, sliding himself up against Steve and rubbing lazily.

“Let me... get...” Steve panted.

“You are,” Tony mumbled into Steve's neck as he rubbed against Steve's side. Lazily he humped Steve's flank. “You are, see? This is you.” Tony pressed soft kisses against Steve's neck, then licked away the sweat beading there. Steve groaned feebly, hips thrusting up once before stilling. Tony grinned into Steve's neck. “Not going to be able to go again, sorry buddy,” he reminded Steve.

Steve huffed, still sounding just like the young man Tony had formed the Avengers with, had fought beside most of his adult life. “Sometimes it forgets and tries,” Steve grumbled.

Reaching a hand down, Tony patted at Steve's flaccid penis consolingly. “Sorry, big man. Back down to earth with all us mere humans. One mind-blowing orgasm a night is all you get.”

The feel of Steve in his hand combined with the heat of Steve's thigh against him had Tony panting into Steve's neck in minutes. Letting go of Steve at long last, Tony reached a hand down between his legs to finish himself off quickly. He came on Steve's thigh, painting it with stripes of pearly white. Tony grinned to himself as he settled against Steve, not moving an inch to clean him off.

“You know, now that I'm all weak at the knees, you should be on clean-up...” Steve pointed out.

Tony smiled into his neck. “Yeah, I know.”

When he made no move to get up, Steve just sighed and laid back, tension draining out of him. “Well, I guess you'll be the one showering me tomorrow morning, then,” Steve pointed out. “I'm an old man. I can't be relied on not to fall and break a hip.”

“I'll get you life alert,” Tony replied. Then, after a pause: “I'll shower you, too. But that'll definitely be a burden to me and in no way something I'd very much love to do.”

Steve's hand came down to stroke at Tony's leg, rubbing it roughly. “Love you too, Tony.”

Because he was an asshole, and because Steve wouldn't expect any differently from him, Tony reached down to cup at Steve's saggy old balls. “Love you, too,” Tony told him.

Somehow, in spite of being older than the hills, Steve managed to wallop Tony straight in the face with a pillow. Tony never even saw it coming.