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Tony Stark currently has three boyfriends on the go, and he still feels like he’s missing out on something. He’s always struggled to be happy with what he’s got. Pepper gets this knowing little look on her face every time he takes a call from one of them, like she finds it inexplicable that they seem to know all about each other and not one of them cares. That kind of openness is one of the benefits of being Tony Stark, especially given his inherent need to take more than one lover at a time, because it usually means that his sexual partners are content with no strings sex. Which is just how he usually likes it.
Johnny - Tony thinks - is like a Xerox copy: all of the features are pretty similar but there is something not quite clear enough about him. He wonders whether it’s because he’s that bit younger, or whether it’s because Johnny has a narcissistic streak that rivals his own, but mainly he thinks it’s because he’s just not quite right, sort of like a half-baked cookie.
Maybe he just needs more toner.
He’s younger than Tony, and the youngest of his current boyfriends (if that is even the word for them), and what he lacks in experience, he is more than willing to make up for in the sheer enthusiasm and wilful abandon. Initially, Tony had him pegged for a bit of a trouble maker, and it’s true that the fellow superhero has a smart mouth that has got them in trouble a few times, but he’s mainly just all talk when it comes to his trouble-making antics. However, no matter how hot he is, (and he means that quite literally: Johnny burnt through three sets of Tony’s most expensive bedding during their first week of dating), there’s something that doesn’t really sit right with Tony.
All of which is a real shame, because the kid really is very attractive.
Lucas, on the other hand, is good looking and fully aware of it, which somehow makes him more appealing to Tony. He’s got a follower count of over a million on twitter and a legion of devoted fans everywhere he goes. Tony should find him sexier, with his tight low-slung jeans and his leather duster, but the truth is there’s something a bit too... dark about him. And Tony is not afraid of admitting that he finds the quirk of his eyebrows a little daunting.
It probably doesn’t help that Lucas is (almost) as much of a star as Tony and the press seem to be drawn to them like vultures around a decaying carcass. The fact that this is the analogy he comes up with when thinking about Lucas is only one of the myriad reasons why he knows that it’s not a serious relationship. Not that Lucas is one for romantic candlelit dates - not that Tony is either, really: Lucas prefers intoxicating rough sex, all bruises and rutting against walls, and Tony has to admit that there’s something disgustingly hot about the way Lucas sometimes throws him towards the ground as though he’s a rag doll and thrusts inside him like he’s cheap, like he’s there to be used.
And he should probably see a counsellor about that particular feeling.
Jensen is probably the closest to perfection: the blond hair might not be natural, but all of his past military training means that his muscles are both solid and toned and his smile comes almost too easily. All of which means he’s sufficiently close enough to the image of excellence Tony longs for that he can get a little lost in the illusion. His eyes are a nice shade of blue, and there’s an air of social awkwardness that slips through when he’s not playing soldier that allows Tony to get lost in his near-flawlessness.
He can even ignore that hideous beard, and the glasses kind of make him - what was that word Darcy had taught him? - adorkable. (And God, he’s never going to let Darcy teach him anything again if that’s the best terminology she can provide him with.) As long as Jensen keeps his mouth shut, Tony can truly let himself believe that he could be the one, but the moment he opens his mouth - starts rambling on about the inefficient lines of coding in JARVIS’s mainframe - that’s the moment the illusion shatters like so much broken glass.
He’s wrong, too - JARVIS is coded perfectly. Jensen doesn’t have his own sarcastic AI that looks out for his wellbeing, so he’s not allowed an opinion on that score.
Although, Tony has to admit it’s nice having someone around who can actually follow his line of thought and that’s probably why Jensen is the one that stays over the most. He’s actually pretty helpful with the suit, and the blatant awe that crosses his features is kind of endearing. The really fucked up thing is that because of his constant need to please - heavily repressed daddy issues are a bitch - he actually gets hot about being adored.
All of the above, combined with a minor exhibitionist streak, probably went some way to explaining why he had been reckless in his pursuit of Jensen’s ass... affections in his workshop. Jensen’s always been all too willing to slide down his body, even in communal areas of the Avengers tower, and lock his almost perfect lips around Tony’s cock. Depending on whether or not Jensen’s been arguing about coding again, this is either Tony’s second or third favourite thing about him.
It stops being Tony’s favourite thing when they’re caught in the act by actual perfection.
“Hey, Tony,” the Captain says as he barges into the room without knocking. Why would he knock? The man has his own passcode. Maybe Jensen’s right about coding flaws.
He is rather worried by his ability to be self-deprecating while he’s getting his dick sucked in front of Captain America.
“Thanks for the heads up, JARVIS,” he mutters resentfully, as Jensen’s mouth slides off him with a slick pop and the blond shifts between his legs before literally standing to attention and blushing furiously. Tony takes a moment to force himself back into his pants and hopes that Steve has failed to notice what had been going on right in front of him.
“Uh, Sorry... I should’ve... Knocked, I guess, huh? Wow.” Nope. Guess they had blow-jobs in the forties, then. Tony winces as Steve mumbles through the words, acting as if he might get arrested if he says the wrong thing, and Jensen looks like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him.
All in all Tony feels like his afternoon could have gone better.
“Let’s face it, this isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.” It’s his go to response when he’s caught in compromising positions - has been since he was fifteen and his college roommate walked in on him with his personal development tutor (and she’d certainly helped him develop... personally). Jensen makes a pained noise as though he expected anything less embarrassing from him, and he’s snapped back from his reverie into a present where he is faced with a furiously blushing Steve, and an equally uncomfortable looking Jensen. Their faces nearly identical in their mutual discomfiture.
“Well, no, but it’s the worst thing I’ve seen you doing to my face.” Steve says it so rapidly that Tony almost doesn’t catch what he’s said, but the look of shock that passes briefly over his face is just a little too... cute, and Tony really hates - no, loathes - that word. Steve Rogers has turned him into a fourteen year old girl, and that’s definitely going to affect the share prices.
“I… uh,” Jensen half looks like his Christmases have come all at once and half like he wishes he was dead as he tries to speak to Steve, who, Tony assumes, is one of his heroes. Steve is one of most people’s heroes, after all. “Wow… uh, yeah…” he continues before his training finally kicks in and his salutes the Captain once more. “Sir,” he mumbles, his eyes rapidly looking Steve up and down, clearly making the same connection that the Captain just has. Tony can’t help but notice the similarities between the two men: gorgeous servicemen loaded with a platoon’s share of social awkwardness.
Busted. Tony can’t help but wish they were both as stupid as their prettiness meant they should be – sadly, it wasn’t the case. Tony might be the expert in deliberately picking stupid dates, but Jensen certainly never fell into that category. Plus, for a man people believed wouldn’t take too well to modern society, the Captain had a surprisingly quick mind.
Steve blinks several times before he opens his mouth to speak.
“I, uh… seriously?” Tony’s glad that he’s not the only one who’s having trouble engaging his brain-to-mouth control switch, but the way Steve is staring at Jensen suggests that he has something more profound to say. He waves his hands around for a moment, no doubt trying to form a coherent sentence. “It’s like getting take-out burgers when you’ve got stake at home,” he finally shrugs, with an arrogance that Tony hasn’t seen before, but finds appealing nevertheless.
“Hey, I’m not a burger!” Jensen runs a hand down the front of his bright pink t-shirt that Tony notes fits him very well, and looks more than a little offended. And as much as Tony feels for the kid, he can’t help but be grateful that those blue eyes aren’t focused on him, because he’s still having trouble forming words, which is a situation that’s still completely new to him.
“Well,” Steve says in a considering manner, “If it’s any consolation you’re a gourmet burger.”
Jensen deliberates for a moment before shooting the other blond a grin. “Actually, it is.” He seems only happy that the Captain has deemed him above average, and Tony supposes that he can’t really blame the guy because when the literal embodiment of human perfection gives you any kind of affirmation it’s hard not to find it the highlight of your week, your month, your year. And God, he has it bad. The smile that Steve shoots Jensen in reply is devastating in its beauty and Tony feels his stomach turn over.
“Can you give us a minute?” Steve asks politely, as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but there’s an intensity in his eyes that suggests it’s an order and not a request.
“I’ll, uh, sure,” Jensen stumbles over his own feet in his haste to get away but recovers quickly, “I guess I’ll see you later.” With that, he shoots Steve one final appraising look and scampers out of the room (Tony notes with some concern that he’s apparently been dating a Labrador puppy for the last three months), leaving Tony alone to face the mess he’s been creating for the last year.
A pink hue swells up Steve’s flawless skin, and Tony can’t swallow the lump in his throat no matter how hard he tries when marvellously blue eyes lock with his. He knows Steve has seen this for what it is and will cast him out of the Avengers, as though he should ever have been anything more than a consultant. The Captain takes several steps closer to him, his eyes never breaking contact.
“Steve, I can explain?” Explain what, exactly? What did he need to explain when Lucas could play Steve in the movie of his life, when the military could use Jensen as a decoy that would fool even Loki, and when Johnny had been mistaken for Steve on more than one occasion? It didn’t take a genius to work out that he had a bit of a crush on the other man.
“You’re an idiot.” Tony can’t deny a valid point - or possibly he could try valiantly and suffer even more when Steve shut him down, so he remains silent which seems to surprise the good Captain, the object of his affections, perfection personified.
“I, uh, I’m sorry,” and he really means it. He hates it when he means his apologies, he gets this nasty feeling of guilt coating his skin. Much better to never admit to any wrongdoing than feel like that.
Steve laughs, the sound warm and sweet like molasses and Tony’s stomach curls again, even if he hadn’t been stuck with an partially serviced hard-on he thinks he might have gotten hard just from that sound alone.
The white shirt that’s attempting to encase Steve’s torso isn’t doing a terribly good job of it, and even through the cotton his perfect musculature is clearly visible. Tony wonders whether God is trying to end him because there is no way that Steve should be allowed to wear a shirt like that out in public when it causes people’s hearts to skip a beat.
And then Steve smiles at him, a gentle encouraging smile, and Tony can’t help but wonder how he could make such an arrogant opening statement and then look so unaware of his own as American as apple pie good looks.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says carefully, his voice soft, almost encouraging.
“But… but it must make you uncomfortable to see me rubbing skin with people who look like they’ve stolen your face and are wearing it for cheap thrills.” Tony finishes his little rant and wishes that he’d kept his mouth shut because Steve’s eyebrows have knitted together and his expression seems somewhat confused.
“If you wanted to date me,” he takes a couple of steps forward, so close that Tony can feel the heat radiating off him, “why didn’t you just ask?” He shrugs as though it is nothing, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Tony is pretty sure that if he hadn’t already been leaning against the table he would have crumpled to the floor in shock as one of those big hands reaches out to gently caress his cheek.
“I…” for the second time in as many minutes Tony Stark is lost for words. “Really?” Steve laughs, his other hand moving down to cup Tony’s already hard cock, and Tony can’t help the squeak that the action elicits in thanks. The Captain’s large hand palms him roughly through his pants and he knows that he can’t take much more, but the friction is delicious.
“Yes,” Steve’s so close and his voice is so low that Tony thinks he might die from the sexual energy that the man emits. “Although you’re welcome to keep that one around…” he’s referring to Jensen and Tony doesn’t know if his brain can cope with that image. “He looks like he could be fun.” Objectively, Tony knows that the offer of a threesome is dirty no matter who says it, but somehow the way Steve suggests it makes it sound like some sort of sport - A sport that Tony would like to become an Olympic champion of.
If anyone asks him, he’s going to claim that he climaxed in his pants with just the rough friction of Steve’s palm on his crotch because Jensen had been doing wonders with his mouth only moments before (not a complete lie), and not because of the image of Jensen and Steve in bed together -their long muscular bodies writhing in his bed, pleasuring him. Actually, screw it, he’s going to tell everyone that’s exactly what Steve promised him because quite frankly anyone with eyes would be able to see how that would affect his self-control.
“I, uh… sorry.” And damn if he isn’t blushing, and wishing that he had a super soldier’s refractory period.
“S’okay, you can make it up to me next time.” Steve whispers against his mouth, and Tony is fairly sure that nothing is ever going to top that moment in his life.
Ever.
Unless Steve actually means what he says about inviting Jensen into the mix. He makes a mental note, that if that ever happens he’s going to have to stockpile Viagra, and allows Steve their first proper kiss.
And it’s perfect (obviously).