So, it started off simply enough. Tony had just caused Steve to blush, because apparently being a genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist just wasn’t enough. Oh no, he had to gather up the hobby of Cap-baiting as well (so named by Peter; Steve had nothing to do with that title). And then there was gratuitous ‘aw’ing done by Tony, and Peter and Clint were just bratty enough to join in because they hadn’t mentally progressed past the age of five, and MJ commented on how he really was kinda cute when he blushes, which led to her proclaiming that no one could ever be as cute as Peter when he was blushing, and it all went quickly out of control from there.
They were all suddenly, and Steve really had no clue how this happened, honest, talking about everyone’s blushes and rating the cuteness-level of each one’s blush. Dinner was complete chaos as significant other’s joined in, defending their partners’ honor (except for Natasha, who was just giving Clint this really smug grin that was making him squirm). That was when Steve realized!
He had never seen Tony blush. They had been friends for about a year; had been testing the boundaries of their friendship-slash-relationship for a few weeks with covert touches and secret smiles that were only meant for each other and, of course, Tony getting Steve to blush every time he turned around. Yet, still, no blushes were ever painted on Tony’s olive skin. Steve didn’t know what he would look like, if it would be a full-deep flush like Steve, himself, was prone to succumb to or if it would be a light blush that just spread across his cheeks in a representation of that soft side Tony hid only too well.
He wanted to know, suddenly. Like had a deep burning need to see what Tony would look like flushed with bashfulness, or embarrassment, or even joy…no, joy would be the best. He’d take what he could get, though. Tony wasn’t prone to any of those three emotions. He was bashful as often as a cat went swimming, embarrassed even less, and the amount of times Steve had seen Tony truly joyous…well, that had always been a concerning thought to entertain.
Anyway, Steve wanted to see Tony blush, and maybe a little get back at him for always, always getting the best of Steve’s uncontrollable ability to bloom red at the slightest provocation. So, when Tony left to tinker with his gadgets down in his lab, Steve turned to the group and asked, “What about Tony’s blush?” because inexplicably, that conversation was still going on (and now Natasha was glaring daggers at Clint for saying she had an “Adorable Blush,” capital letters and everything).
But no one could answer. They stared at him dumbfounded and confused, well except for Thor who was continuing with his meal in the brief gap left in the conversation. It was Peter who said, “Y’know, I don’t recall ever seeing Tony even get close to blushing.”
They all shared the sentiment and Steve frowned, feeling like that in and of itself was a shame. It brought into sharp relief how composed Tony always was, even with people he proclaimed to trust with his life…he couldn’t trust them with what made up his life, what made up the man under the suit, metal or not.
Well, Tony was beginning to trust Steve. And Steve would see him blush.
As Barney Stinson would say (and no! He was so not!obsessed with How I Met Your Mother): Challenge accepted!
It took some practice to employ the first one. Mainly because he had to practice and, okay, research the hell out of what he was supposed to be doing. He knew he couldn’t make Tony blush with the same tactics Tony used against him. That plan of action would only lead to him blushing more and that would be a failure to the mission’s purpose, which would lead to this entire thing blowing up in his face. He had had things blow up in his face before, like bombs, grenades, plans. He didn’t like the way it felt.
So there was some researching, and then perhaps a good, twenty minutes in the bathroom, preparing himself for what was to come. It all looked natural enough and it damn well should with how much acting he did before he was actually a soldier, when he was just a monkey in a costume selling war bonds. It was close enough to acting, so he was pretty sure this shouldn’t be too different.
It was only…a facial expression. Really. That was no big deal.
When he was certain that he could pull this off without looking absolutely ridiculous, he went downstairs, set on starting breakfast and waiting for everyone else to begin stumbling downstairs. The first thing he did every morning was start the coffee…in all four carafes. He made Tony his own pot, placing it in the corner closest to the door, because Tony would likely snatch someone else’s if he had to walk too far (which had almost led to Tony’s death when he took Natasha’s cup).
Then the orange juice was out in time for Peter to stumble down the stairs looking still asleep. Steve just handed it to him as he passed by in order to get to the cereal. He pulled out eggs for himself and the milk jug for Peter’s breakfast before his classes started. Peter muttered his quick thanks, eyes still glazed and staring at the toaster blankly as Steve pressed the milk into his hand.
Usually, he and Peter were the only two awake at 0700, but Pepper had scheduled a meeting for Tony at 0830 due to some mishap that had happened during the last board of directors meeting. Steve knew Pepper did it as punishment, but sometimes he thought that perhaps she also gathered some perverse entertainment out of torturing Tony (not that Steve disapproved). Just a few short minutes after Peter’s sugar high had begun to kick in, Tony himself came down, looking a strange combination of business professional and zombie.
“Hey, Tony!” Peter chirped from the island, because his cereal was nothing but unprocessed sugar and breadcrumbs. “What are you doing up so early?”
Tony grunted with a glare sent towards their youngest teammate as he staggered to his coffee pot. He grabbed his favorite cup from the depths of the cabinet, where his staff had learned to store it after every single cleaning and poured his brew. Then, like an addict deprived he brought the mug under his nose and inhaled deeply. “Where have you been all my morning?” Tony muttered against the lip of the cup before taking a tentative and then greedy gulp.
Steve had finished the eggs by that time, so separated them equally between two plates, depositing one in front of Tony.
Of course, Tony wanted nothing to do with the eggs and, in fact, turned his tired glare towards Steve, who had taken the seat on the other side of the island. He even went as far as to cradle his coffee closer to his chest, just in case. Steve was learned in the ways of getting Tony to eat in the morning, though, and produced ketchup from the shelf beneath him, sliding it and salt towards his friend. He was met with more suspicious stares but Tony eventually snatched the ketchup with one hand.
He glanced at Peter with a smug smile carefully hidden. The young man looked impressed. He shouldn’t have, but he glanced between the two of them with awe in his bright hazel eyes.
Tony finished his eggs rapidly enough and Steve settled his plate beneath his own so he could take them both to the sink. With a bit a mental preparation (mostly the same mental pep talk he had given himself before his old shows) he reached out to take Tony’s coffee cup.
At the startled and really quite affronted look, he twitched his brow up and gave a small smirk before going to refill the cup. After it was almost brimming, he came back to the island and gave Tony the lopsided smile that he’d heard so many go on about as he blew on the hot liquid.
Tony watched him with something of confusion and…well something that was not confused but more unsure of the situation. His eyes widened considerably when Steve took a small sip of the coffee making sure to place his lips precisely where Tony’s had been, their eyes holding contact. His breathing hitched once, fingers twitching on the table. He looked ready to replace the mug with his lips, which was not entirely unwanted, but not the intended goal Steve was going for.
Steve kept his head tilted down, looking up from under his lashes as he slid the cup in front of Tony, keeping the place where his lips had touched in front of the other man, while murmuring softly, “You should probably get going after that cup.”
Tony visibly swallowed, giving a nod. “Yes,” he briefly cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s a very good idea. Don’t want to anger Ms. Potts.” Steve was certain he heard a muttered, “Any further.”
He took a deep breath and all but inhaled his coffee (keeping his lips where Steve’s had been) before gathering his suit jacket from where he had settled it on the back of the chair earlier. He was on his way out, but stopped just inside the doorway to look back at Steve, an unreadable expression on his face that both warmed him and ripped at his heart.
Then he was off to do business with “soul-sucking bastards,” and Peter was getting leaving for his high school, looking thoroughly confused.
Steve’s original plan had failed, but he didn’t count it as a complete fail.
He tried a few more methods, a few looks and acts to pull a blush from Tony, but the man was either oblivious to them all, wrapped up in work, calibrations, or worse just looked at Steve with those hauntingly unsure eyes. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of all of this.
Steve was trying not to get frustrated, because really there was nothing to be frustrated about. All of his attempts were made while simply relaxing and speaking to each other, between missions and world-domination-planning-supervillians. He actually thought he should be rather proud that he could come down to Tony’s lab, or coax Tony out of his lab for a quick spar or some lunch. Really he was the only one who had that sort of power over the genius anymore. Even Pepper had lost some of her sway over him after their amicable break up.
But he was just a little frustrated. He wanted to see that blush; wanted to see a faint red across Tony’s cheeks and know that that was one more barrier that he had brought crumbling to the ground. He wanted to know that Tony knew he wanted all of him, the entire enigma, not just the pieces he’d formulated to look good in front of other people.
So around two weeks after his first failed mission, Steve came up with a slightly higher risk plan, higher risk for his own embarrassment being the key. He knew it would be worth it if he could get Tony to blush himself, but still…he wasn’t so sure.
He walked up towards Mary Jane with enough grace though and scratched the back of his neck in a somewhat (a lot) bashful manner that she always caved at. “I, uh…I heard you’re getting into photography?”
She blinked at him with her pretty gray-green eyes. Then a radiant smile burst on her lips and she nodded. “Yeah, Peter has been showing me how some of his cameras work and it’s actually really interesting. I was actually about to go shoot some photos now…” She paused, and her eyes narrowed just a little in that dangerous way that every significant other of a superhero seemed to have. Really, Steve had seen it on Jane and Betty as well. The one Peggy had once worn. They were all too clever for him to pull one over on. “Did you have something in mind?” A small smile played at her lips. “Y’know…nevermind. I’ve wanted to take a few pictures of a man in uniform. This is the perfect opportunity.”
She began walking away, heading towards Peter’s room upstairs. Over her shoulder, she called, “Grab your uniforms and meet me back here in twenty minutes!”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
The pictures were easy enough to take. Strange in some ways, but also very reminiscent of his days as an icon instead of a soldier. Mary Jane talked with him about random things and every so often would send him a secret smile, like she knew exactly what this was all for. She told him to make certain poses, but then made him laugh just so she could snap other pictures. She made him change into both his Class A’s and his Captain America garb, and then she randomly dressed him in a business suit that she must have produced from thin air, because he didn’t remember even looking at it.
They were done in a little over two hours and then Steve treated her to lunch before she hailed a cab that would take her to the little café that she was working at on weekends and he went back to the mansion to look over the Avengers’ last fight with Doc Oc before the next meeting.
The next day, MJ was downloading all of the pictures onto the tablet Steve had been given by Tony about eight months ago. She said apologetically, “I would have done it yesterday, but I had to go to work…”
Steve didn’t really mind. Some days it still amazed him how fast pictures could just appear in this time.
He left the pictures in a file on the main screen and then as soon as he could he went to visit Tony in his lab. It was easy to mix their tablets up. They had actually done it more times than Steve could count, just setting them down randomly and the other picking it up without thinking of it.
So, it wasn’t even halfway suspicious when he set his tablet down closer to Tony when the other man began explaining an upgrade he was making on the Quinjet, walking around his lab and expanding certain parts up in the air around them so that Steve would have a visual idea of what Tony was talking about.
When Steve settled down to draw random doodles that came to his mind (Natasha and Hulk battling was his favorite one to entertain at the moment because he wasn’t exactly sure who would win that fight), Tony continued with his schematics and without thinking walked over to grab Steve’s tablet. He tapped random things onto that Steve knew JARVIS was automatically sending to Tony’s tablet as well. Tony had programmed him to copy plans and files onto both their tablets after he had accidentally taken Steve’s tablet to a meeting in Hong Kong and had to direct Steve how to send all of his files over.
Steve knew the moment that Tony exited out of the screen and found the file with Mary Jane’s pictures. He made it look as though he were still doodling, but from the corner of his eye, he could see Tony’s face scrunch in confusion the way it always did when something was out of place and he had no accounting for it. Steve kept his face neutral, blank, as the other pulled up the file without care of personal space.
His eyes were eating up the pictures. That much was obvious and Steve would have to remember to thank Mary Jane again, because that look of want that Tony got, while it happened often, would never get old.
Steve waited for a minute or two before he looked up, feigning confusion at what held Tony still for so long (it happened so few times). “What’s wrong?”
This was where he was hoping for a blush. That maybe Tony would be a little embarrassed about having been caught looking at the pictures while Steve was sitting right there.
And of course, it didn’t happen that way. Instead, Tony looked up briefly and flicked his finger to another picture. “I’m just admiring Mary Jane’s work,” he said easily, a small smile gracing his lips. “Peter’s a good teacher. She’s getting very good, great actually. And her subject matter…well, what could be better than Captain Rogers, Captain America, and Steve Rogers? I dare you to find something better.”
He cast a sidelong glance at Steve, his smile growing warm and sweet. It was completely different from Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Industries. This was just Tony; his Tony.
Steve gave him a considering look before turning the page in his sketchpad. He kept his eyes on Tony as he brought his pencil down on paper, saying, “I can think of a more interesting subject matter.” He put his eyes to his paper again, holding that soft smile in his mind as he began drawing Tony.
This attempt had fared no better, but Steve still didn’t count it as a loss.
Just a minor annoyance.
His next attempt was almost accidental. In the way that he didn’t think of it until he was already halfway through his plan. He went with it, though, because he had learned in his many years that sometimes being impromptu decisions paid off rather well.
He and the rest of the team had decided to get together to play basketball, minus Thor, because Tony hadn’t quite managed to create a basketball that Thor could dribble while still being manageable enough for the rest of the team. So Thor got the honor of being referee, which Steve didn’t quite think was actually useful as Thor really didn’t get all the concepts of basketball let alone the rules. In the end it worked out better that way seeing as had Thor played the teams would have been uneven.
Tony, Steve and Peter were on one team, with Bruce, Clint, and Natasha on the other. Natasha had to be on Bruce’s team at all times to make sure Bruce wasn’t accidentally hit in the face with a basketball. It sometimes astounded everyone else on the team how close they all nearly came to doing so, but Bruce always waved it off, saying, “I never really was good at sports.”
Anyway, even for being inside on a Winter day, it was pretty easy to get hot, especially when playing against other people who have the stamina of ten tanks. Really, between Natasha and Clint alone it was difficult. Bruce had made a living from running, literally running, so he was barely breaking a sweat, despite being an hour into the game. Tony looked winded, but Peter looked like he was in some sort of heaven and could gladly keep Bruce on his toes for the next millennium. Even with Super Soldier Serum, Steve was starting to feel sweat accumulating between his shoulder blades and at his hairline.
Add another hour of playing against everyone and Thor randomly deciding that they should have a sudden death match (why? Steve will never quite be sure, but everyone on the team took sudden death to a new extreme), proclaiming they had two minutes to get five scores and the first one to do so would get some of Jane and Darcy’s famous pancakes…yeah. That had been quite a work out, but they won thanks to Tony and Peter’s quick thinking (and maybe some cheating, but it was all in the name of pancakes so…).
At the end of the game, Steve had abandoned his shirt and was sweating profusely and Natasha and he were crouched down ready to jump for the ball. Natasha looked completely calm, but there was a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“You may want to make sure the rest of your team is doing okay,” she said, her breathy voice the only thing giving away the fact that they had been playing hard.
Steve’s brows scrunched, but he didn’t look around. Tony was the master of getting him to look away when he wanted, he wouldn’t fall for something so mundane.
She smirked. “Mr. Stark has been panting pretty hard since that shirt of yours came off.”
He most definitely didn’t glance away, but it was a close thing. The idea of Tony panting, wife-beater drenched with sweat, staring at him with adrenaline and lust…Thor released the basketball into the air, and Natasha cheated by using his shoulders as extra leverage to slap the ball towards Clint. Steve tossed her over his shoulder, knowing she’d land on her feet, and began chasing after Clint, keeping an eye on Tony as he did.
And Tony did, indeed, seem torn between the game and hanging back to watch Steve. He had to keep himself from smiling to himself for the last part of the game, even when Bruce had a moment of athletic genius and scored the winning points for his team.
They finally called it after that, heading back to the main part of the mansion. Steve couldn’t help but notice that Tony couldn’t seem to stop glancing at him, looking increasingly uncomfortable, like it was taking every last fiber not to reach out and touch, and if the other team members would just go away he would have no problem in tackling Steve.
It was actually kind of fun to see Tony squirm like that.
Which was where the plan came in. Steve was still carrying around his discarded tee in his hand and as soon as the elevator opened the entire team nearly spilled out like dominoes, he started patting the shirt over his chest, knowing Tony was watching. He looked over to the other man, noticing his dark eyes glued to his chest. It took a lot for Steve not to blush at that look alone, but he kept it down somehow.
“You played well today, Tony,” he said, lowering his voice and making sure to drift the shirt lower, but nothing too obscene.
Tony’s eyes were riveted to the shirt and the short path it took to his bellybutton. Steve wasn’t sure he even knew what he was agreeing to when he agreed with a dreamy, “Yeah…”
He felt a small bit of irritation but mostly a bit of fondness. Tony was staring at him that way, not Natasha, who was now only in her sports bra and workout pants. Not Clint, whose shirt was nearly a second skin.
Tony had to go to India the next week and he was going to be gone for a week. He said he’d call when he landed, but Steve knew that was highly unlikely. Tony was good at a many great things, but remembering mundane things like food, sleep, and calling on time were not among them.
Imagine Steve’s surprise when Tony called him at 19:45. He was in the bath after a fight with a small-time villain who had actually had really neat telekinesis powers and had managed to clock Steve in the spine with a piece of flying asphalt. He considered just soaking for a few minutes and calling Tony back after, but then he thought again.
This might just be perfect.
He flipped his phone open, accepting the video conference that Tony set up and smiling winningly when he saw Tony, in sunglasses and his suit.
There was a pause, a glass of something amber halfway to his mouth. Steve almost let his smile fall, but knew Tony hadn’t drunk in months. When the glass fell away from his lips, Tony asked, “Steve, are you in the bathtub?”
He nodded, holding the phone above the water. “Yeah, relaxing some muscles after the fight.”
Tony jerked his head back in shock. “Fight? Really? With who? Why didn’t you call me? I thought we agreed after last time…”
Steve rolled his eyes. “No, I agreed if it was something we couldn’t handle I would call you.”
“Well, I didn’t agree to that. I agreed to if there was a fight…”
“Just because you don’t remember anything the way it happened…”
“…that you would call me,” Tony went on as if Steve hadn’t spoken.
Steve sighed and leaned his head against the side of the tub. “Why are we arguing about this? The problem was taken care of within an hour.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Tony sniffed indignantly looking away from the phone with an air of hurt about him.
Steve picked his head up from the side of the tub and looked into the screen. “Tony, I’m naked in a large bath of steaming hot water. I’m sure your genius brain can find something more entertaining to talk about.”
There was a long pause where Steve almost squinted at the screen to see if that could possibly be a blush creeping up Tony’s cheeks. It looked like it had the potential to be, but…Steve just wasn’t sure. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask, because Tony would likely deny it and quickly put up all of his masks.
He refrained from sighing.
This was really getting ridiculous.
Steve had when Tony was supposed to be getting home memorized and thusly kept looking at the clock in his room, waiting to hear the other man stomping around to his room so that he could change out of his business suit and into something more appropriate for the lab.
In the week since Tony had been gone, he realized that his need to see Tony blush had really just manifested into a need to see Tony. All of his previous attempts at getting the other man to blush had happened, simply because he knew Tony would be there and he had always liked being around Tony, even when they didn’t necessarily get along. Tony, Thor, and he had always had a bond of sorts. Natasha and Clint were thick as thieves from working in S.H.I.E.L.D. for so long together. Bruce was always a bit of a loner, even though he was beginning to enjoy some of their team outings. Peter was busy with school, Mary Jane, and his own specific sect of New York to take care of.
So it was pretty much Tony, Steve, and Thor, and with Thor being, you know a god, and having a relationship that had several states between the couple, Thor was gone a lot so it was often just Steve and Tony.
Steve had never quite realized it until this week, the first week since Tony and Steve had started dancing about one another in this sort of courting game they had that Tony had been gone. The first since Steve had become adamant about seeing Tony blush.
And, naturally, Clint would notice that he wasn’t quite himself. Oh, he still had the same schedule. He still went for his morning jog, made his breakfast for himself, scheduled trainings with the Avengers still in the mansion. He just apparently “moped” while doing it (and he was not moping. He was just a little…okay he moped). So the night before Tony was due home, when Clint said, “You should give Tony a ‘Welcome Home’ party. Might relieve the tension,” he really should have known better than to blush.
He also should have known better than to listen.
Really, he must have been addle-minded to even consider listening to Hawkeye’s idea of a Welcoming. It may work for him and Natasha, but for Tony? Okay, yeah, this would probably work for Tony too, but it didn’t mean Steve had to like it. Tony had probably been greeted this way several times. Would probably take Steve for seeing him as no more than a sexual party favor.
He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat on his bed, caught between wanting to surprise a blush onto Tony’s face and not wanting to ruin the simple belief and truth Tony had that Steve was interested in him. All of him.
But then he heard the stomping of Tony coming in at 0600 and he just wanted to see Tony. It was only when he had his hand on the doorknob when he realized…well, he realized he was naked. Because that had been Clint’s idea of a welcoming party. He paused a moment in indecision, ended up grabbing a washcloth from his dresser top and covering himself with it as he opened the door.
Tony stopped at the sound he made, turning back curiously. “I should have figured you’d be awake,” he said with a slight smile. His tie was undone, his shirt almost all the way untucked with the first two buttons undone and his suit jacket thrown over one arm. He looked wonderful. Disheveled. Especially with the way his hair stood up on end, probably from the multiple times he had run his hand through it.
Then Tony grabbed a good look at him, and his face was almost the blankest Steve had ever seen it. For a moment there Steve wasn’t sure what to make of it and then Tony was coming at him with determination in his eyes.
The washcloth was dropped as Steve braced for the impact of Tony slamming into him. The collision was teeth, lips, and noses, bare chest against soft fabric. The slamming of Steve’s bedroom door as Tony kicked it shut with his foot as he pushed Steve further into the room.
Tony’s hands were everywhere, everywhere on his body as he tried to map every single inch of Steve’s exposed skin. Which was all of it. Steve grasped Tony by his jaw, using both hands to guide the kiss into some semblance of control, not wild licks and clacking teeth. He pressed his tongue into Tony’s willing mouth, curling his tongue behind teeth and flickering his tongue against another eager tongue as Tony pulled blunt nails over the skin of his shoulder blades and back.
All thoughts were short-circuiting as Tony pulled away from his mouth, trailing wet, sloppy kisses along his jaw to his ear where he flicked his tongue briefly before pulling the lobe into his mouth, kneading it between his teeth.
The tie was easily pulled away from Tony's neck, having already been undone before Steve even opened the door. Where he found the precision to open the buttons of the silk, considering he was having a hard time even standing when Tony was breathing hot air into his ear and trailing a long, hot strip down his neck, clamping down on his shoulder muscle, alternating licking and biting and sucking. Holy god, Steve couldn’t have stopped the groan from escaping his throat had he wanted too.
Tony pushed him further into the room, his shirt pushed off his shoulders and swishing to the ground in the half-light of the morning.
Steve was going for the belt buckle of Tony’s pants when he felt the bed behind his knees. He only just barely managed to pull the finely crafted leather from the expensive belt loops before Tony pushed him to a sitting position.
He looked up at the other man, still dressed in an undershirt and his slacks. The glow of the arc reactor was strange, though he had seen it several times. It had just never been so intimate, so close.
“Take your shirt off,” he demanded, his hands already reaching for Tony’s wife-beater.
He hesitated for a moment. Something trapped in his eyes, but Steve’s hands were already trailing under the shirt, over his skin and touching the scars that he knew Tony must have been self-conscious about.
“Take it off,” Steve repeated quietly.
The undershirt left with less of a flutter and more of a thump on the ground and Steve pressed his lips against the skin of his chest, around the shine of the reactor while his hand rested on Tony’s hips, feeling the heat and the strain of the cloth beneath his fingertips and palms. The metal was warm against his tongue, the light shining behind his eyelids. Tony’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly and Steve wondered if anyone had ever done this.
He glanced up, and Tony’s face was flushed which would have been satisfying to Steve if he could have remembered that he wanted to see Tony blush in the first place. If he weren’t just as flushed, and his eyes weren’t as lust-filled. Steve nipped at the scars lightly, feeling more than hearing each gasp as his teeth closed perhaps a little harder than what would be gentle. Tony’s hand suddenly shot into his hair, pulling and yanking until Steve looked at him again.
He only saw a glance of something other than the lust before Tony was on the floor between his spread knees and looking up at him with a slight smirk on his lips. His hands kneaded Tony’s shoulders, rubbing gently behind his ears as the other man’s hands slid over his calves, over his knees and up his thighs. He rested one hand on his hip while the other continued, playing with the soft skin adjoining Steve’s thigh to his hip before running through the course hair around his cock.
And Steve really must be every part the Boy Scout Tony had always claimed him to be, because Steve tugged on the ear he had been massaging, saying, “You really don’t have to do this.”
Tony smiled, that same sweet smile that is only his Tony. “I know. I want to.”
So he did. He dipped his head down, tasting Steve because he’d been stupidly hard since about four seconds after Tony launched himself into his arms. His tongue flicked against the slit, gathering up precome before his lips slid over his head and his calloused hand gave a few short pulls. It was a good thing Tony had his hand on his hip because otherwise Steve wouldn’t have had something to ground him, to keep him from just thrusting up into Tony’s hot mouth.
He wasn’t sure how many times Tony had done this. Probably more than Steve, but Tony’s reputation was with women and Steve wasn’t going to hurt Tony if the fate of the universe depended on it.
He sucked hard, running his tongue along the ridge as his hand worked at a steady rhythm. Steve didn’t even try to hold his moans down, surely would have choked on his own tongue had he tried. He really wasn’t sure how long he had been dreaming of this, but the reality blew everything away. Tony licked further down, his lips following with that delicious suction, and really Steve was going to be finished far quicker than he wanted to be. It had been too long and this was Tony.
He was thrusting shallowly without his own conscious input and the other took it, like this was seriously all he had wanted to do for many months and before Steve had the ability to even warn how close, so close, he was, Tony sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks and rubbing his tongue over the vein beneath his cock and Steve was coming so hard there were stars and bright lights and “God, Tony!”
When he came back to himself, Tony was still suckling at him slowly letting him slip from his lips as Tony made sure he had swallowed every last drop.
Steve took a few deep breaths, his hand carding through dark, brown hair that he had unconsciously grasped when his orgasm had overtaken him. Tony looked up at him, something shining brightly in the half-light of the morning’s dawn. Steve leaned closer and pressed a brief kiss to his lips, his free hand pulling Tony up by his bicep, onto the bed.
He pushed him down to the mattress, his hand deftly opening Tony’s slacks and slipping inside to grab Tony’s cock in his hand, giving restless strokes and whispering into Tony’s ear, “We should go on a date tonight.”
He bathed in Tony’s moan, licking at his jaw contentedly as he continued. “Not just burgers and fries. A real date…at a sit down place.” Tony bucked into his fist as he tightened it, a choked sound torn from his lips. Steve leaned down to swallow the breathless gasp as he twisted his fist, running his thumb over Tony’s slit. “We’ll go dancing,” he breathed against Tony’s lips and Tony jerked in his arms, his eyes slamming open to reveal the brown-black chasm of his eyes and Steve was so in love with that, he realized as Tony came apart under him, a soft, keening whine escaping his throat.
Steve didn’t hesitate to swallow that sweet noise.
This attempt was so a win!
Even if it didn’t count.
They awoke up together much later in the morning, Tony holding onto Steve like he actually had the ability to leave Tony after everything they had been through and after last night. Steve himself had wrapped Tony up in his arms, one hand around Tony’s waist, the other in his hair. They kissed for so many minutes it was hard to believe they didn’t have anyone checking on them, and then Tony went down to his lab and Steve went out for his daily routine.
Steve thought he would have to pull Tony out of his lab for their date, but at 19:30 Tony came into the living room in one of his suits, looking at Steve expectantly. Steve had all but run to his room to dress in the suit Mary Jane had picked out so many weeks ago, not wanting to be Captain America or Captain Rogers. Just Steve. Like Tony should just be his Tony.
They went to a well to do restaurant. Not as fancy as some of the ones Tony could have picked. Somewhere between Steve’s remembered status quo and Tony’s well known one. Dinner is simple, and Tony ordered their dinners and wine, not that Steve had any problems with that. They ate with smiles and laughter and discussions of what they both expected this to be, which Steve was thankful to note, Tony was willing to give this a long term shot as well.
They were in the midst of a conversation about Tony’s many designs when Steve heard the words of a song he only heard on his MP3 player. He smiled, glancing at the man across from him somewhat bashfully.
“Will you dance with me?” he asked, reaching his hand out across the linen-covered table.
Tony stopped everything (which was really quite a feat), and stared at Steve like a deer caught in headlights. He looked down, eyes not quite focusing on anything as he mumbled in a completely uncharacteristic way, “I’m not…uh, I, uh…”
Steve grabbed Tony’s hand as he stood, pulling the other man to his feet with a quiet, “Just dance with me, Tony.”
And there it was.
Tony let out a small smile, happy and joyous, and across his cheeks was a slight blush, light pink and completely edible.
Steve should have known it would be the simple art of asking him for something so innocent that would get him to flush.