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Slow Me Down

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Sex with Tony is always quick. It’s that delicious slide of skin on skin, the needy grasp and bite of fingers, the continuous movement of hips and gasp of breath. It’s always over far too quickly for Steve’s liking, but it doesn’t stop him from repeating the steps. Which isn’t a bad thing; no, sex with Tony is fantastic, easy and hot and everything Steve wants in a sexual partner. But there is that niggling desire in the back of his head, that he wants to slow it down, wants to relish the buildup, the back and forth of power, and the eventual fall when everything becomes just that side of too much.

It’s difficult because it’s not Tony’s fault. There’s something about how Tony gives everything over to Steve, shuts down the thoughts in his head and the erratic movements of his body and focuses solely on Steve. How he loses it when Steve holds him down, how he becomes submissive and bossy all at once, how he talks and talks and talks until Steve silences him with a controlling kiss or a palm over his mouth.

It’s something Steve never thought he would enjoy, but can’t begin to understand how to alter.

Tony is all electric movement and brilliant leaps of logic. He’s sound and light and touch; he’s something that shouldn’t need to be contained but enjoys it all the same. He drives Steve crazy, pushes and pulls him as easy as the tide. It’s no wonder when they come together it’s explosive.

But Steve wants to change that. Not the explosive bit because that is something Steve never wants to smother, but the speed at which the explosion occurs. He wants to slow it down until Tony is delirious, almost deaf and blind to it all, and then he wants to watch him fall apart.

It’s a matter of stopping himself from giving over that will be the issue. But he’s always been good at strategy.

--

He shoves Tony against the wall, catching his wrists when Tony tries to get his hands under Steve’s shirt. He keeps him there, turning the hungry kisses slow, trying to remember his initial plan. Tony groans against him, all giddy desire, and Steve tightens his fingers in warning. Tony goes slack in front of him with little more than a breathy sigh and Steve shudders with want, with a need to take everything from Tony, to catch those simple noises between his lips and cherish them. He releases Tony’s wrists in order to grab under his thighs, hauling him up until Tony can wrap his legs around Steve’s waist.

“Yes, yes, this, want this,” Tony says, reaching down and grabbing at Steve’s pants. He manages to get his belt undone and his fly unzipped before Steve distracts him with another hard kiss. Steve tugs at Tony’s own pants, getting them down around his thighs, freeing his cock and his ass, and Tony groans, entire body shuddering. He pulls back to beg, “Want you inside me, here against the wall, that would be so hot, please, come on, use me, please.”

Steve pushes him back, smothers his words with his mouth and slides one hand up until he’s brushing along Tony’s cock, slick with precome and Tony moans, heavy against his lips. Steve tries to remember his plan, go slow go slow slow remember slow, but everything is wiped away when Tony tries to buck his hips, greedy noises escaping him as he shoves against Steve’s slack hand. Steve gasps when he pulls away, catching the base of Tony’s cock and squeezing gently. Tony bites his shoulder.

“Fuck, please, please, Steve, I want you. Can’t you feel it?” Tony shudders against him, squirming and fighting for leverage but Steve stands still. He fumbles to get his cock free, knowing this isn’t going how he planned at all. “I’m still open from this morning. You could slide right in. I didn’t have time to shower before the alarm went off so I’m still – ahhh.”

Steve closes his eyes tight, shoving into Tony and stopping, and Tony scrambles at his shoulders, thighs shaking from the force of Steve’s entry. He had a plan, damnit. Tony whimpers his name, sucking a bruise into the side of Steve’s neck, and tugging at his hair. Steve grabs under Tony’s thighs, makes sure his grip is tight, and fucks into him, deep, sure strokes, and Tony wails, head cracking against the wall as Steve surges against him.

Tony didn’t lie; he was still slick and used from this morning, just two hours prior, and Steve breathes out rough, catching his lips on Tony’s exposed collarbone. Tony scratches up his back, fingers tangling in his hair as he moans out obscene gratitude, pulse a fluttering beat beneath Steve’s lips. Steve shifts, drives Tony up higher, and Tony practically screams, his cock jerking heavy against Steve’s stomach. Tony clenches down hard and Steve groans, shoves in three more times before he comes too. They stay like that, Steve’s fingers digging obvious bruises into Tony’s thighs. He buries his face in Tony’s neck, kissing the bite he left earlier, and Tony sighs, wrapping his arms tight around Steve’s shoulders. Tony squirms when Steve pulls out, legs loose around Steve’s waist, and Steve lowers them to the floor.

“Goddamn,” Steve whispers against Tony’s temple and Tony nuzzles against his cheek.

“Agreed. Next time we need to do this without clothes. Or – oh! With you in uniform. Yes, that is an excellent idea,” Tony says, grinning lazily. Steve pecks him on the lips and sighs. This might be harder than he expected.

--

“You know, you’re downright sexy when you yell,” Tony says, sidling up to him after the meeting is adjourned. Steve raises an eyebrow at him, adrenaline still spiking through his system. No matter the cost, Steve will never allow Fury to put the lives of his team in such obvious danger. Especially if there is the possibility of Tony doing something stupid and throwing himself in front of a goddamn death ray again.

“And I don’t mean that in a ‘here comes a sexual harassment lawsuit because I’m not already sleeping with you’ type of way. I mean in a ‘let’s have sex on Fury’s desk and then not tell him’ kind of way.” Tony grins, all flash and glam, and Steve has an overwhelming urge to mess him up.

He follows through.

Tony yelps when Steve grabs him and lifts him up onto the table, shoving his thighs apart and catching him in a hard kiss. There are words in the back of his mind, something about ‘slow’ and ‘build up’ and ‘there was a goddamn plan’, but he’s too busy tearing at Tony’s shirt, scattering buttons and ripping expensive silk so he can get his hands on Tony’s body.

Curling up against him, Tony fights him, not giving an inch and Steve thrills in that, grabs Tony’s wandering hands and shoves him back down. They clash together, Tony biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue, and Steve drags his fingers up and around the arc reactor, scratching lightly at the scars until Tony is gasping into his mouth. Tony bucks up against him, shirt wide open and eyes blown wide.

“This is new,” Tony manages before Steve is dragging him into another kiss, rubbing up against Tony, already hard. Tony pulls back with a groan. “Incredibly new. Okay. We need to – the door, Steve, fuck –”

Steve hears logic, knows it’s sound, but he just wants to mess Tony up further. “I want to fuck you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony breathes, arching back when Steve grabs him through his pants, rubbing hard. Tony keens, fingers digging into Steve’s shirt. “As much as – ahh, yes, keep doing that.”

Grinning against his throat, Steve finishes unbuttoning Tony’s fly, pulling his cock free and squeezing lightly. They don’t have much time before the room fills up for another meeting so Steve goes to work, the pace of his fingers almost brutal. Tony thrashes against him, gasping and moaning, hands restless over Steve’s shoulders and down over his chest. Steve dips his head and lips at the edge of the arc reactor, slapping his hand over Tony’s mouth when Tony starts to whimper. Tony’s fingers dig into his wrist, tongue lathering his palm, and Steve knows he won’t have time to fuck Tony. Not like he wants to.

“You make it so difficult,” Steve breathes, wetting his fingers with Tony’s precome and sliding them down behind his balls. “You make all my plans just fall apart.” Tony groans, thighs shaking as Steve circles his hole. “And I’m not even sorry.”

Tony keens, bucking hard when Steve teases two fingers in, lips still light on the arc reactor. Steve knows how sensitive Tony is to fingering, how his entire body lights up and reacts when Steve finds the exact pressure and speed to get Tony off in less than a minute. All without touching his cock. He lets Tony ride his fingers, hard as he likes, and then he pins him down, locates his prostate, and sees if he can bring that time down to thirty seconds.

 There’s a definite scream working up in Tony’s chest, his fingernails biting into Steve’s wrist as he shakes apart. Steve watches him, keeps up the pressure, adds a third finger, and can pinpoint the exact instant Tony shatters. Come strips his stomach and chest, catching on Steve’s chin, and he groans low in his chest, entire body going slack. Steve keeps his fingers moving, harsh until Tony flinches from the stimulation, and then he tucks him back in to his pants, tries to button up his ruined shirt, and releases his mouth.

“I didn’t get to fuck you,” Steve says, grinning at how Tony breathes out. The skin around his mouth is raw and shiny, wet from Steve’s hand and the obvious pressure Steve had used to silence him.

“You will be the death of me,” Tony says, voice hoarse, and licks at Steve’s chin. “Not exactly what I was expecting when I said we should have sex on Fury’s desk but I like your improvisation skills. Also,” Tony nips at the corner of his mouth, “you have come on your shirt,” and grins like a maniac.

Steve presses his face against Tony’s neck and rocks lightly against him. This is not working.

--

All of Steve’s plans, all of his ideas, crash down around him every time he gets within striking distance of Tony. He gathers Tony up in the bed, fucking him on his back, legs spread obscenely wide and Tony’s pleas for more egging him on. Tony rides him quick and dirty in the living room, couch cushions a mess again and Steve doesn’t even care because Tony is beautiful above him, all uncontrolled voice and sinuous movement. He manages, at one point, to keep Tony pinned long enough to possibly put into action his long term plan, but Tony goes feral under his hold, straining against his hands and keeping blown out eyes on Steve the entire time. Tony has a fresh ring of bruises around his wrists by the time they’re done. If Steve wasn’t so turned on by the idea, he would be mortified.

“Maybe I’m the problem,” Steve muses in the kitchen, nuzzling against Tony’s neck as they both come down from very serious handjobs. He locks his arms around Tony’s waist to keep him in place and kisses his throat. “Maybe if I took myself out of the equation, we could prolong it.”

“What are you babbling about now, Cap?” Tony asks, sleepy fingers trailing over Steve’s sides and up and over his arms, tracing aimless things into his skin. Steve recognizes a whirl of a six.

“Have you noticed our complete inability to slow down when we’re near each other?” Steve asks, point blank. Tony blinks lazy at him.

“Slow down? I thought the point of sex was to speed everything up.” He grins, bright and dazzling, and pecks Steve on the nose. “Let me down, I want coffee.”

Steve watches him, frowning, and when Tony reaches for the sugar at the top, catches sight of the bruises circling Tony’s wrists like yellow-green manacles. He feels himself harder and almost chastises himself. Instead, he crowds up behind Tony and kisses the nape of his neck. “Are you sure coffee is so important?”

“And people call me insatiable,” Tony says, turning in his arms for a kiss. Steve will figure out how to slow them down eventually. He’ll just start after.

--

“Yes, come on, fuck me,” Tony pleads, hands above his head and back arched invitingly. “Please, harder, I know you can do better, make me feel it. Make me scream for you, Steve, please, please.”

Leaning forward, Steve catches the back of his neck between his teeth. Tony’s mouth is lethal. “I should gag you.”

Tony groans agreement, pushing his ass higher in the air in invitation, and Steve shoves him back down again, drawing out the lengths of his thrusts. Tony bucks against him and Steve moves in close, grabbing Tony by the hips and pulling back and up, until his chest is pressed again Tony’s back, Tony’s thighs spread even wider. He stills for a breath and Tony fights him for it, fights for the friction back. His hands reach for his cock, already straining against his belly, shiny cock ring almost obscene against his red skin, but Steve catches his wrists.

“You wanted to compromise,” Steve says, nipping the lobe of Tony’s ear. Tony shudders against him.

“Toys. Against me. Cruel,” he manages, gasping when Steve shoves up into him. Steve nuzzles at his cheek and Tony turns his head for the kiss, mouth going lust-stupid as Steve starts to move. The build-up is there, and has been for the last thirty minutes and Steve thrills at the possibilities, at Tony becoming more delirious and more cunning, fighting to come but lost in the game as much as Steve. 

Tony’s chest hiccups when Steve leans back, taking Tony with him. He finds a deeper angle, something he didn’t think possible, and Tony thrashes weakly against him. He’s muttering nonsense now, words and numbers and equations that Steve recognizes as a countdown and Tony’s back bows.

“Please, I want to come, please, Steve, please let me come,” Tony babbles, fighting against Steve’s hold. Steve presses a kiss against Tony’s temple.

“No, no, you can hold on,” he says, Tony’s body rhythmically clenching but unable to finish. Steve shoves in twice more, and curls his body around Tony’s, biting back a groan as he comes. Tony shudders under him, whimpers of protest mixing with the static in Steve’s ears. Steve carefully straightens back up, Tony fighting with him to continue, shifting his hips back and forth. Steve releases his wrists to trace light patterns over Tony’s chest, scratching at his scars and brushing against Tony’s nipples.

“So unfair,” Tony pants. “This is unfair.”

“You love it,” Steve says, nipping the side of his neck. Tony rocks back against him still, legs shaking. Steve can feel his libido picking up again. “Think you can handle more?”

God, no, yes, please,” Tony says, catching Steve’s gaze. There’s a bright blush over his nose, hair a deplorable mess, and his eyes are completely blown black. Steve feels a small pang of guilt but it gets washed away by lust when Tony lifts himself up unsteadily and comes back down. They both groan, Tony’s higher pitched. His cock is steadily leaking precome, and Steve carefully touches the ring, fingers finding the clasp. Tony shakes around him, working himself frantically back on Steve’s now hard cock. Steve matches him move for move, until Tony just lets him do all the work, body twitching with every movement.

“Ready?” Steve breathes and Tony nods, head weak on his neck. Steve tightens his hold on Tony’s hip, grabs hold of the clasp, and releases him. He drives in sharp, catching on Tony’s prostate. Tony shouts, back bowing hard, cock jerking as he coats his stomach and a small portion of the arc reactor. Steve chokes against his neck, rotating his hips to get that last bit of friction, and fills Tony up again.

Yes, ahh,” Tony breathes, body twitching. He drags a hand through Steve’s hair, laughing weakly. “I don’t think I can move.”

“You’re too coherent,” Steve laughs, groaning as he eases out. Tony doesn’t even try to keep himself upright; he flops forward, ignoring Steve’s arm around his waist. His ass sticks up in front of Steve and Steve breathes out, firmly thinking no. He rearranges Tony into something resembling comfort and forces himself out of the bed, searching around for the wet towel. When he comes back, Tony has wormed his way onto Steve’s side, face buried under the pillow and sheets sticking to the come on his stomach.

“You’ll stick to everything if you don’t let me clean you up,” Steve says, crawling over beside him. Tony lifts a hand and bats at him weakly.

“I don’t know what’s been up with you lately, but I like it,” Tony says, voice muffled by the pillow. He pulls it away to beam up at Steve. “Any other ways you wish to kill me these next few weeks?”

“If I told you,” Steve starts, peeling the sheet away. Tony grabs for it and Steve laughs. “If I told you, it would eliminate the surprise.”

“Don’t like surprises,” Tony pouts, sighing as Steve starts cleaning him up. Steve bends down and kisses the arc reactor, licking around the rim with a quick flick of his tongue. Tony groans and smacks him lightly on the back of the head. “Don’t you dare. I can’t get it up again. Not after that. Give me at least six hours to recover. I am not your sex slave, Rogers.”

Steve kisses his nose and finishes cleaning him up. Tony curls against him, and Steve mashes the pillow against Tony’s face in retribution for his comment. Tony squawks at him, and it devolves into a short wrestling match before Steve gets Tony back on his side.

“I hope you realize,” Tony murmurs into his chest, “that in approximately two hours and nine minutes I’ll try to escape.”

“I know. Go to sleep, Tony.”

Tony grins, flopping more firmly against him, and Steve says farewell to his plan.

--

Breakfast the next morning is something of an adventure. Clint is learning new recipes, and has been feeding Thor many of said concoctions. When Steve finally drags Tony out of bed (after Tony proves that yes, six hours is plenty of time, thank you), Clint has started dying the omelettes different colours.

“I made you an omelette, Stark,” Clint grins, sliding across a gold and red omelette. Tony blinks at it, still harbouring a healthy fucked-happy gaze. Steve tries to hide his grin.

“What? Oh. Yes. Colours,” Tony shuffles past, a just obvious limp showing, and Steve sits down, covering his mouth with his hand. “Coffee first, yell at you later.”

Cocking his head to the side, Clint studies Tony for a few short moments before turning his eye to Steve. Steve pretends to be fascinated with Thor’s red pancakes, with small black and silver pancakes dotting them. Thor hands him a glass of orange juice and digs into his breakfast with gusto. Steve can see Clint grinning out of the corner of his eye.

“Well then. Have a good night, Stark?”  Clint turns back to the stove, grabbing the blue and red food colouring. Steve eyes him. “I mean, it’s not like you woke up the entire house last night. Or that you’re limping. Or that Steve can’t stop smiling.”

Tony blinks, taking a long swallow of coffee, and then goes bright red. He shuffles over to the counter again, trying evidently to eliminate the limp in his step. Steve bites at his lips. Tony glares at him as he gingerly sits down, dragging his omelette toward him.

The blush fades away to confusion as Tony stares down at his plate. “Wait. Why is this omelette red?”

And Steve just snickers into his own glass of orange juice. He’s unsure whether or not he’ll ever be able to actually slow down when it comes to Tony Stark, but right now it’s not a problem, and with the way Tony is rubbing his palm up and down Steve’s leg, tracing absent sevens into his pajama’d skin, Steve can only think what other fun things he can get up to with a very compliant Tony.