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Tony woke slowly, drifting from a confused jumble of images and sounds, from a voice hissing Stark in his ear. He blinked at the steady blue glow of his bedside clock. Two am. He wriggled exerimentally; yeah, hard as a rock. He shut his eyes again, reaching for the decaying strands of the dream, Steve's face contorted into fury, using his strength carelessly, snarling curses into Tony's face as he -

No. Tony rolled onto his back and kicked the sheets down, denying himself any pressure or friction on his dick. He wasn't about to jerk off thinking of that - that warped mirror of Steve. The real Steve would never force him down, shove inside him -

Shame, whispered a treacherous voice inside him, and he slipped out of bed and grabbed yesterday's clothes from the chair. Might as well get some work done, if he wasn't going to sleep.

He paused in the kitchen; Steve had been working here, papers neatly stacked on the table. The search for the - others. No promising leads yet, Tony would have heard. There were CDs spilling out of a folder; after a second, Tony riffled through them, and picked one out.

He kept the volume on the TV low, knelt on the tile so he could put his ear close to the speaker. He skipped the - most of it, the messy part. Watched as the scarred Tony Stark tried to stand, and the other Steve helped him, picked him up, spoke to him possessively, carried him out.

Skip back to the beginning, skip the murder. Watch them scream at each other, struggle, until Stark was pinned down and the other man was unzipping his pants. Skip back, watch again as Stark was thrown to the ground.

He rose to his feet and ejected the CD, suddenly disgusted with himself. The CD flexed in his grip; he could snap it, but there were plenty of copies and then he'd have to explain himself. He'd just put it back, and -

Steve was standing by the table, watching him. Too many people in this building walked like cats. Tony should've known better than to think Steve would have left his work out, he always packed it up neatly; he should've known he'd be back any minute, to see - what had he seen?

"Tony?" he said in hushed tones. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he used equally soft tones, and laid the CD down on the table. "Just - wanted to see what you were working on."

"No. I saw what you were watching. Are you - "

"I just had a bad dream," he interrupted, and Steve bit his lip.

"About - "

"Yeah. No. I just - I dreamed that he went looking for - and he found - " me, he didn't say, but Steve's face crumpled and his hand twitched, started to reach for Tony and then fell to the table.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, and Tony put out his hand to cover Steve's.

"It's not you. I know it's not you." And better that way, because if the thought of the maniac with Steve's face holding him down for it was shattering, the thought of Steve himself doing it was beyond all words. He squeezed Steve's hand, and Steve turned his hand to squeeze back, very carefully, as if Tony's bones were brittle and might crack.

"I don't think you should watch," Steve cut his eyes to the CD, and Tony felt his cheeks burn. "I mean it - can't be healthy, right? You mustn't dwell on it, I - " he swallowed, and then Tony heard the faint sound of his teeth grinding together. "I don't like watching it either, I hate - I know it's not you, but seeing you hurt like that..."

"I dreamed it was me." Tony watched, fascinated, as the muscle in Steve's jaw twitched.

"If he'd done that to you I'd kill him," Steve said, and then his gaze flew to meet Tony's, face colouring up, expression a picture of comedic guilt. "I mean - "

"You do mean it," Tony gave him a rusty smile, pleasure flaring at the thought of Steve all fired up for revenge, swearing to hunt down whoever had hurt Tony. He wouldn't actually kill the other man, Tony was sure of that, but even making the threat - "That's sweet."

"I - oh, come here." Steve slipped his arm around Tony waist and pulled him into a hug, not one of Steve's usual enveloping bear hugs, but a gentle embrace. Tony let go of Steve's hand so he could wrap his arms around Steve's shoulders and squeeze tight, and Steve stroked his back, gently. "I worry about you, you know."

"Really?" Tony turned his head, letting his cheek brush Steve's, and heard his breath shiver at the contact. "I wish I were a big enough man to say that doesn't make me happy."

"Yeah?" And there was a sleepy fond look in Steve's eyes, a soft little crook to his mouth. "I like it when you're happy."

"You," Tony swallowed. "You make me happy, you know."

After that there was really nowhere to go but kissing, Steve's lips soft and careful, his hands touching Tony with increasing assurance but no loss of gentleness, until Tony grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the bedroom where the sheets were still tumbled and damp from Tony's dream, while Steve made doubtful noises about too soon and are you sure.

He abandoned all that once Tony had him down on the bed, didn't come up with anything but moans and pleas when Tony's mouth was on his cock. He let out a sad little sound when Tony pulled away entirely, and propped himself on his elbows to give Tony the full effect of the puppy eyes.

"I want you to fuck me," Tony scrambled up the bed for a kiss, just in case Steve had an objection to voice. "I really want it," he breathed against Steve's lips, and Steve just nodded, eyes hazy, and let his fingers slide between Tony's thighs.

"You have - "

"Course I do - " sweet slick stretch, slow, careful, Steve teased him along until he was panting and pleading, and then finally he lowered himself down onto Steve's cock and it was as good as he'd always imagined, Steve moaning his name, the feel of him inside, those big hands smoothing up his thighs, and Tony could stay like this forever, the steady rhythm keeping him on the edge. He rested his hands on Steve's shoulders and kissed him long and sloppy and sweet until he had to tip his head back and gasp for air, Steve's mouth moving down his throat. "Oh, God, Steve," he tried to grind down harder, and Steve whimpered and cupped his ass, encouraging him. His fingers touched the stretched rim of Tony's body, stroked delicately, and that was enough, Tony's vision blurred out for a long dizzy moment and he blinked back to full awareness to feel Steve carefully drawing out of him.

"- that okay, tell me if I hurt you - "

"You - did you, uh," Tony blinked away sweat, and looked up at Steve's dopey smile.

"Yeah, I - you clenched down and did this sort of shimmy, and - " he went pink. "That was - "

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." Tony let him turn away long enough to flip the lamp off, and then wrapped himself firmly around Steve. He didn't object, just settled in with a happy sigh.

Tony woke at three-thirty am to the door shutting behind Steve; he had a full five minutes of self-recrimination before the door opened again, and he made out the dark shape of Steve laying what was possibly a stack of papers down on the dresser, before he stripped off his pants and crawled back into Tony's arms.

 

Two am, and Tony woke fast this time, the solid grip on his bicep real, the dream of Steve's face resolving into the reality of Steve's face, dim and shadowed, and he whined and shoved at Steve's shoulder before he could think. Steve recoiled, grip spasming free.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, you're fine," all the way out of the bed, and Tony slapped the lamp on, and squinted at Steve, who had put his back to the wall and was staring, eyes scrunched against the light.

"Come back," he ordered, and turned the switch off, blinking into the pitch black. Steve crept back onto the bed, and Tony pulled him close, very aware he was still breathing hard, pulse thundering in his ears. "Come here," he let his voice drop lower, throatier, and spread his legs. Steve hesitated, a thing he'd not done since the first time; Steve was always in the mood. Except now, apparently.

"I'm not sure," his voice faded out when Tony rubbed against him, a moan escaping at the feeling of Steve's muscular thigh against his dick, and for a second he expected Steve's fingers to dig in roughly, for him to take what he wanted. "But you - you were having a nightmare - "

"Not - exactly," Tony reached for the lubricant, and Steve didn't resist as he was slicked up; he hesitated when Tony tried to guide him into place.

"You're not - "

"Still stretched from earlier, just go slow," he said reassuringly and not quite truthfully, and bit his lip when Steve pressed cautiously against him. "Come - come on, yessss," and the sharp hiss made Steve pull away. He didn't say anything, but Tony heard the snap of the lube and then cool fingers eased into him. "Hurry," he muttered.

"No rush," Steve ran a soothing hand up his thigh. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," Tony almost whimpered. "I need it now, please - "

"Shh," and finally, he moved back up over Tony, his bulk pressing between Tony's thighs, and Tony wailed and tried to drag him in faster. Steve clapped a hand gently over his mouth, and yes, God. Tony struggled against his hands, panting.

"Sh, Tony," Steve patted at his shoulder. "Someone'll hear, just, are you okay?" He lifted his weight off again, and Tony growled at him and yanked him back. "Tony, you - I'm worried here, I can't - " he shifted, and then light flooded the room again. Tony threw an arm over his face.

"Dammit, Steve," he said flatly, and Steve moved off him entirely. Tony shifted his arm enough to glare.

"What's wrong with you?" Steve was flushed, his dick was hard, but his face was the picture of concern. The perfect boyfriend, Steve. Loving and gentle. Never rough. Used to controlling his strength. Never going to get carried away and pin Tony down and take him roughly.

"Nothing." He let his arm cover his eyes again. "I was just horny."

"You were scared," Steve contradicted him. "You were struggling."

"And horny," Tony said curtly. "I just - " he shrugged, awkwardly. "Let's go to sleep."

"Can you tell me?" Steve rested his hand on Tony's belly. "It... might help to talk."

"I just like it rough, sometimes, that's all."

"I don't want to hurt you, Tony," and Steve's lips brushed his hipbone. Tony slid his hand into Steve's hair, petted, and Steve sighed, a soft gust of breath that made Tony's skin prickle. "I hate seeing you hurt. You know that. You were dreaming, and you sounded - hurt, and - "

"I had the same dream again," he said abruptly, and pressed his arm down harder, so colours bloomed behind his eyelids. "The one he where came looking, and found me, and he forced me down on my knees, and..." he trailed off. He was getting hard again, just from the hazy memory of being spread roughly out on the floor. Steve was still breathing on his side, big warm hand still and heavy on his belly. "I liked it," he said finally, and felt the jolt go through Steve. "I loved it. I was terrified and hurt, and I loved it, and I woke up and wanted you to pin me down and fuck me. Okay?"

Silence, for a long while. Steve's fingers tapped erratically on Tony's skin.

"I don't like..." Steve cleared his voice. "I don't want to do that when you dream like that. Of him."

"It's nothing," Tony mumbled. At least he wasn't being dumped. "It's not like I want to actually be hurt. It's just a fantasy. you know? The idea of being..."

"Being?"

"You know. The - losing control. Being held down and forced to take it. Helpless." Steve was almost certainly looking blank. "I just wanted it, okay?"

"I could - do that. I guess. If you want it." Muttered softly, into his skin, and when Tony pried his arm off his eyes, Steve was staring fixedly at his hand on Tony.

"You could?" For all his fantasies, it was a strangely alien image, Steve - the real Steve - getting rough with him.

"Not right after the dreams," he added hastily. "I don't want you getting us confused. I really don't want to do anything like that when you're - distracted."

Out of it, he was too polite to say, and Tony nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Hey," he tugged, lightly, and Steve looked up at him. "Come here."

Slow careful kisses, touches, Steve sliding inside him, and Tony hooked his legs around Steve's waist.

"Okay?" Steve ducked his head for a kiss, and Tony nodded. "You - " he swallowed. "You want me to - to hold you down?"

The noise Tony made was entirely too weak and pleading; it made Steve blush. Tony let his hands drop from Steve's shoulders, laid them on the pillow either side of his head.

"Go on," he said, and Steve took hold of his wrists, careful and tender, but when Tony pulled and twisted, he couldn't move them an inch. "Oh God. Oh - oh God. Please," and he dug his heels in to Steve's ass, pulled him tighter.

It wasn't rough, but it was fast and hard, and Tony allowed himself to struggle a little, tried to pull free, whimpered. He didn't let the whimpers resolve into words, or the struggle into any solid resistance, but it was enough, it was good, it was amazing, and he was soon rolled under by the most intense orgasm he could remember. Steve's hand released one wrist to carefully cover his mouth and muffle his yells, which was even better, and he shut his eyes and drifted as Steve finished up in short order.

"Okay?" Steve panted in his ear. "You're all right?"

"Mmm," he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck. "That was, yeah."

"You're sure," Steve fumbled for his wrists again, inspected them.

"Yeah," he looked at Steve's flushed face, the sweat at his hairline. "You liked that, didn't you?"

Steve didn't answer; he went darker, a rich flood of colour, and then leaned to switch to the light off again.

"You did like it, though?"

"We can do it again if you like," was all the answer he got, and he smiled against Steve's skin. Steve was the perfect boyfriend.

 

"Call me a slut. Tell me - tell me I want it - "

 

"Yeah, just - slap me. Not too hard, just so it smarts - ahhh - no, that's fine, that's great - "

 

"So 'red' is for stop; it's 'yellow' if I just need a second. Just ignore when I say no, okay? I won't forget my safewords. If you're worried, you can ask if I remember them."

 

"I like to - be spontaneous, you can surprise me, as long as I know it's you."

 

He woke up at two am to a hand clamped over his mouth. The curtains were open, the moonlight illuminating Steve's face, set in hard lines. He was dressed in his uniform, the light catching the white star on his chest.

"Found you," Steve said quietly, and Tony gasped, ragged. The hand on his mouth eased up a little, enough to allow him to speak clearly.

"What," he said. "What do you - " The hand came down, fingers digging into his jaw, and he grunted. Then he kicked out, twisted free, and when he rolled over, away, Steve just came down on his back, weight forcing him down hard into the bed.

"Off, get off me - what are you doing - " he tried to push himself up, but Steve just let his body weight do the work, two hundred and thirty pounds of him pressing Tony down. Tony lashed out, clumsily, clawed uselessly at Steve's shoulder, fingers scraping over the armoured fabric. Steve took his wrist almost casually, twisted it up behind his back, and then rested his other elbow just inside the jut of Tony's shoulder-blade, a pinpoint of pain. It was startling just how easy it was for Steve to manhandle him like this; like whatever Tony did, he was at Steve's mercy. Steve could break his neck before he could put the armour out, like this.

"Stop fighting me," he breathed, hot and damp against Tony's spine. "I know you want this."

"No, I - " he choked off into a gasp of pain as Steve tugged his wrist.

"Don't lie to me, Tony," edge of anger. "You think I don't see the way you look at me? The way you show yourself off? You think I don't notice? Today, in those tight jeans, spreading your legs like a slut - " he bit Tony then, on the meat of his shoulder, digging his teeth in hard enough to mark. Tony could only whimper; he'd thought Steve hadn't noticed his flirting.

"I noticed," he mumbled, and Tony had to have said that aloud, he was losing it. He tried to steady his breathing, get his head together, but it was so hard to focus on anything but Steve's low growl in his ear - "I notice you, Tony, I see you teasing the people around you, leading them on, and I'm not going to dance on your strings, you hear me? I'm not a man you can tease."

"No, Steve, please," he went limp, not entirely on purpose. "Please, let me go - "

"Not yet." Steve's voice turned soothing. "You be good, and I'll let you go. I'm not going to hurt you. Just - " he shifted up to his knees, took his elbow off Tony's back, and trailed his fingers down Tony's spine.

"No!" Tony bucked and thrashed, yanking at his arm, not quite hard enough to damage. "No, please, Steve, you don't want to do this."

"You want me," and pressing in dry, God, that ached so good, Tony gritted his teeth against the yell. "You're so hot - so tight. No one would ever guess what a slut you are."

"No," he tugged again on his arm, and surprisingly Steve let go and Tony lurched up to his hands and knees, only to crash down again as Steve's fingers dug roughly into his prostate. "Ah, God!"

"Slut," Steve taunted him, and he blushed, could feel his face burning. "Look at you. You want it." Working him hard, now, and Tony whined and kicked feebly, the rough touch sapping away his resistance, he was so hard -

"No," he said again, breathy, humiliatingly weak, and Steve laughed.

"You want lube for this?"

"I don't want this."

"You want lube, you'd better get it for me. Or I'm doing it dry."

"No. Please, Steve, please, just stop - "

The sound of Steve's zipper, and then the feel of Steve's cock, nudging up against his thighs, sliding up to settle against his fingers. For a moment, Tony was tempted to call his bluff - but it was a bluff, there was no way Steve would take him dry.

"Okay," he flung out an arm, searched in the pillows, they'd fucked this morning and he'd dropped it - there. He held it up, and Steve hummed in approval.

"Put it on yourself," he ordered.

"I can't," Tony swallowed his objections, and reached awkwardly round, and it was getting everywhere, smearing over his ass and dripping down his thighs, but he felt Steve's fingers going into him and got them good and wet, felt them drive in slick and easy. "Oh, oh no."

"Yeah," Steve dug his knee under Tony's thigh, levered him up a little. "Look at you, all wet and ready." His other hand slid under Tony, brushed his hard cock. "You little slut. I knew you wanted it."

"No," and Tony was crying, he could feel the wetness sliding down his cheeks, it hurt, and he couldn't stop the low whimpering. Steve jacked him roughly, squeezing too hard, and Tony bucked helplessly. "No, please, Steve -"

"Shh," and oh, oh God, he wasn't ready - his vision blurred with sweat or pain as Steve's cock slowly forced him open, too big, too soon. "Fuck, take it Tony, you fucking whore - "

"Please," he thought he said, but he couldn't hear his voice, world narrowed down to the aching strain of Steve inside him, ten bright spots of pain on his hips from Steve's fingers.

Slow at first, and it didn't hurt anymore, and Steve's hands shifted, one going to his shoulder, holding him down, and the other to the back of his neck, pressing his cheek into the pillows.

"You love it," he whispered, and Tony shook his head. "Don't lie, Tony. You love this, you want it." A hard jerk of his hips, and Tony sobbed, flung out his arms and grabbed handfuls of the sheets, and then it was harder, faster, and time blurred into a long aching moment, heat and pain and pleasure, and he couldn't see anything though the mist in his eyes.

Steve bit him, carefully and precisely on the neck, just where his shirt collar would hide it, and that was too much, Tony came, crying in earnest now, body completely out of his control in the way it thrashed and pushed back and arched.

The pounding at his ass didn't stop, Steve didn't even seem to notice - he noticed everything, of course - Tony drifted into a daze and barely stirred when Steve pulled out and came on him, rubbed it over his ass and thighs and made a cutting remark.

He zipped up; the door slammed behnd him, and Tony wondered for a moment before realising it was the bathroom door. Steve must have dressed in there, to avoid waking him.

Tony lay still until the door opened and shut again, and Steve gathered him up into a hug.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He'd changed into sweats and t-shirt, and was soft and warm and smelled of fabric softener. Tony would have purred if he could.

"Mmyeah." He turned his nose into Steve's throat. "That was good."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm." Tony tried to snuggle closer, and Steve lifted him, got them resettled with Tony in his lap and the blankets around them. Then he began dabbing at Tony's face with a washcloth produced apparently from thin air. "Stop it."

"Yeah." Steve didn't stop, and the cool touch on his swollen eyelids wasn't unpleasant. "Not to sound creepy, but it's kind of hot when you cry."

"Well, that's just weird, Steve, I don't think this is going to work out." He sniggered a little, and Steve grinned.

"You want a drink of water?"

"Sure," and he didn't really, but he did want Steve to pick up the glass and hold it to his lips, stroking his hair gently. This part was almost as good as the actual thing, made him feel sleepy and loved and kind of like he wanted to be fucked again. Steve almost certainly wouldn't right now, though. He should broach the matter in daylight, put it to him in reasonable tones. Maybe Steve could pretend to be - a different Steve, could find him in the aftermath and comfort him with sex -

"What're you thinking?" Steve set the glass down, and Tony smiled muzzily at him.

"That I love you."

"Sure you were," Steve kissed his brow, his nose, his lips. "You're planning something."

"Tell you tomorrow," he promised as Steve snuggled down, getting them curled up together.

"I'm sure you will." Steve smiled, and Tony shut his eyes, warm and safe and ready to sleep.