“What the hell is that?” Tony asks the second he crosses the threshold of their bedroom. Judging by the alertness that Steve springs into from behind his novel, Tony maybe should’ve lead with a softer tone but seeing as how his boyfriend has been replaced by a goddamn lumberjack, he figures that it’s warranted. “What happened to your face?”
“Oh,” Steve says nonchalantly. Shrugging, he explains, “It’s starting to get colder outside and one morning the temperature was so bad that I decided not to fool around with shaving. I guess I just kept deciding not to fool around with it.”
Steve is a liar, Tony decides. Because that beard—and god, the fact that Steve is sporting a beard that looks like it came right out of the Village sans checkered shirt and skinny jeans is blowing his mind—is immaculate. If Tony’s refined Balbo wasn’t perfection, he’d almost envy it. No. Steve’s beard has been fooled around with. That kind of sculpting isn’t a result from Steve’s corner drugstore razor and that sheen, begging-to-be-touched hair is straight out of Tony’s shelf in the medicine cabinet.
“I was gone for a week and you have a beard,” Tony says. "A thick, full, and surprisingly dark beard."
“Yes,” Steve acknowledges slowly. His eyebrow raises as he shuts his book and places it on the nightstand. “Do you not like it?”
Tony isn’t sure where Steve is getting that idea but it’s so absolutely wrong. He drops his briefcase and bag of luggage, makes his way over to Steve and climbs into the other man’s lap.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony pushes the tips of his fingers into Steve’s beard, touching and sliding against the texture. “Jesus, it feels better than it looks. I love you in every incarnation, you know that, but this—Fuck, Steven.”
Understanding brightens Steve’s eyes. “It gets your approval then?”
Eyeing the bit of pink that is Steve’s bottom lip, Tony has to kiss him. He unashamedly purrs at the new sensation of Steve's beard scraping against his, brushing the little of skin around his own mouth. He answers heavy, “At the risk of losing it in my pants like a teenager all over again, yeah. Sure does.”
“We can fix that,” Steve says before handling the button of Tony’s pants and yanking the zipper down.
In the meantime, Tony shrugs out of his suit jacket and rids of his tie.
“I missed you,” Steve says meaningfully when he gets a large hand around Tony’s cock, squeezing. “How was your trip?”
“Boring. Meetings ran too long and gave me headaches. The coffee is never as good on the west coast. Plus there was a definite lack of ruggedly handsome blondes." He presses forward and jerks into Steve's tight grip, watches the head of his cock push through the top of Steve's fist. Moaning at the sight, Tony admits, "Missed this."
And he really has. It doesn't take long for his cock to get hard under Steve's attention, for Tony to rut in Steve's lap, the erection straining there. "God want you to fuck me, babe."
Instead Steve sweeps his tongue into the inside of Tony's mouth, deep and thorough, fucks into a claiming kiss that makes Tony's toes curl. His back bows in it's so good. He gives as good as he gets, licks the roof of Steve's mouth, bites at his lips and sucks there afterward.
The kiss turns into many, ravenous to a degree that when Tony tries to get out of his shirt, he loses a handful of buttons. They're so distracted with a need for skin on skin that they pull Steve's tee out of form. Another lost cause when it comes to their wardrobe.
"Wanna put my mouth on you," Steve says when he pulls away.
"Fuck yes," Tony agrees because who in their right mind would say no to that, the sinful gloss of Steve's lips and the lust darkening his blue gaze. The debauchery. God, Tony doesn't know if he'll be able to last long with Steve's pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. He tells Steve as much. "Too beautiful when you take it."
Steve laughs a bit at that, cups Tony's jaw, stroking his thumb back and forth. His cheeks are tainted with a flush when he says, "I actually meant—I want to, want to taste you in the other way."
That's not something they do too often. Tony wouldn't need his second hand to count actually. And Steve's never been on the giving end of things.
"Are you sure?" Tony asks, tries to ignore how all of his blood his running south, how excitedly his heart beats against his ribcage.
"I am," Steve says low before he puts his mouth down the line of Tony's throat, scrapes his beard over Tony's shoulder. "Do you want to ask me twice?"
Tony scrambles to get out of his pants and is on his naked front in under a minute flat, can't help twitch in anticipation as Steve kisses his shoulder, tongues the top bunch of Tony's spine. "I've wanted to do this to you for so long, Tony, always wanted to," Steve confesses quietly.
Craning over to get a look at him, Tony asks, "Why now?" Not that he's the type to look a gift horse in the mouth but he's curious. Steve's never been against it but there's been plenty opportunity in the past year or so. They've had tons of sex, marathons even. They've had athletic and intense fucking on, over, and against nearly every flat surface in the tower. Everything excluding the rest of the team's quarters.
"Don't want to waste the beard," Steve says, makes a point by scratching his scruffy cheek down Tony's back, creating a rash of goose flesh along Tony's skin. He bites just above the swell of Tony's ass. "What better way to lose my rimming virginity," he says, breath hot.
Jesus Christ. Tony almost comes on that alone, those words and Steve together. He has to turn away from the picture of Steve stroking a finger down the crack of his ass, feels like he's burning on the top of bedsheets. He whines, "Steve, please."
Steve's strong hands curve around the top of his legs and spreads them. His hips are lifted and he's kneeling up with his ass in the air and his face buried in the folds of his elbows.
Steve blows over his exposed hole and Tony can't help the shake in his thighs, down the line of his back to his shoulders. Steve steadies him with a hand, petting down the outside of Tony's hip and thigh, comforting. "Easy, easy. I've got you, sweetheart. I've always got you." He backs off to grab a pillow, wedges that under Tony's stomach. "That better?"
Tony can only nod because he's taken by this moment, so intimate, already filled to the brim with potential for Tony to fall apart as his ass is spread wide enough for Steve to fit the flat of his tongue.
Tony groans as the sensitive skin gets wet and opens under Steve's mouth.
"You have no idea. Tony, Tony, you're gorgeous everywhere." Steve whispers and it feels so fucking dirty, heated. Tony doesn't know what Steve's intent was but he keens under the words, the pointed licks rolling in and out of him. "I can't get enough of you."
"Fuck," he utters. He has to bite the inside of his cheek when Steve's tongue finally dips inside, slides past the ring of muscle. The hair of his beard scratches the thin skin of Tony's balls, the inside of Tony's thighs. Tony has to fight the urge to push back against the assault. "Yeah, yeah, baby. Just like that. Feels so good."
"Yeah?" Steve asks, tearing his mouth away for a second that feels too long to Tony. And what the hell is that question, as if Steve isn't amazing at everything he puts his mind to. He sucks a damp patch on Tony's balls before traveling back up the valley of Tony's ass, beard catching over delicate skin, setting Tony's nerves on fire.
Soon patterned licks turn in sucking and Steve's weight is the only thing that pins Tony to the bed, a bruising and tight grip on his hipbone keeping his ass to Steve's sloppy attention. Steve's tongue pushes deeper into Tony and works in tandem with a slick finger that curves up inside of him, presses against Tony's prostate.
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Tony can't stop saying. He has to clench his teeth over an already swollen lip to keep from coming, has to ask after it because he doesn't want it to stop. "Steve, fuck. Fuck me, baby."
Steve pulls off and sinks in another finger, working Tony's hole into an abused thing and Tony thrusts back, moaning, desperate for more.
"Look at you, Tony," Steve gasps out, sounding as electrified as Tony feels, as sparked. He finger fucks Tony hard. "So tight. You're so amazing, on top of my fingers—love you so much, Tony."
It's torture, the stimulation starting to hurt because he's so fucked out from just Steve's fingers and tongue. "Want you inside of me, Steve. Need you now. Need to come for you."
There's a wet stripe painted against Tony's hole once more and then a hungry growl from Steve.
"Hold on," Steve whispers hoarse. He kisses various parts of Tony as he pulls his fingers out.
"Fuck, Steve," Tony breathes out. Panting because he's exhausted. California to New York is not a short flight by any means and he's wrecked now, in that unstable purgatory between wired and done for. His cock feels like a brick hanging, aching and begging to be touched but by some miracle he's able to wait for Steve.
The uncapping of the lube is the sweetest thing he's heard.
And then it's second to the moan that practically drags out of Steve when he's pushing his cock into Tony, filling him, "Oh, fuck."
Steve bottoms out in the same moment he yanks Tony onto him and Tony howls. He means to reach out to get a hold on his cock, start jerking himself but part of that order gets lost and he's got Steve's hand in his, where it's wrapped around Tony's hip. And Tony's glad to find him instead because he needs Steve, needs to connect with him in every way that he can. He whimpers as Steve begins to thrust a punishing rhythm, fucks hard and fast and displaces Tony's knees, gets one up under Tony, the other is snug along Steve's thigh. Steve's thrusts move them farther up the bedding, moves them further into disorder. Tony cries out at Steve's new angle, as it hits his prostate over and over again, precision perfect.
"Fuck," Tony swears. God, he's so close, he can feel it, doesn't need a hand on him. "Gonna come, Steve, gonna come all over, babe."
Steve's hips don't lose a snap, he fucks on with a single-mindedness and fucks Tony through a bone-rattling orgasm. Tony feels like he's detonated within his own skin, as if every part of himself is pulsing out of his cock. He whites out and is barely aware of Steve's own orgasm aside from the rush of hot inside of him, how he instinctively clenches down on Steve's cock.
Later, he's been turned on to his back at some point. Steve is mouthing the crook of his neck, lapping in the hollow. Tony laughs weakly. "That was."
"It was," Steve agrees, almost shy.
Tony opens his eyes and stares at him in disbelief. "You just got done eating out my ass and you're bashful?" Mind made up, he reaches out and wipes a thumb across Steve's bottom lip, dips a little into that damp beard that is still dizzying Tony with want. He brings his thumb back into his mouth.
Steve's face wrinkles. "Tony, that's—"
"It's what, Mister Beard Porn?" Tony asks with a smirk, cutting him off. He leans into Steve's space, a breath away from his pretty mouth. "It's what," he wonders softer before kissing away Steve's complaint. He licks into sweat and sex, licks past it.
Steve shakes his head and laughs, all the while still making out with Tony.