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Context Is Everything

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Steve piloted the Quinjet into its bay and restrained himself from glancing over at Iron Man, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, for the twentieth time in as many minutes. Tony still had his helmet on and seemed to be staring straight ahead, but Steve knew that Tony could look at whatever he wanted without turning his head, and he was certain that Tony had been watching him for the entire flight home from the battle.

It wasn't that he could feel the weight of Tony's attention on him. No, Steve was just thoroughly aware of the picture he must present; his costume had been all but shredded in the course of the fight. No serious injuries--to anyone on the team--thank God, but it had been close for a few minutes there.

Tony had an...interesting reaction to close calls.

As Steve shut down the Quinjet, the rest of the team waited for the boarding ramp to lower, chattering cheerfully, high on the mission's success. Iron Man didn't move a muscle, but Steve ran through the shut down protocols as quickly as he confidently could, his heart rate already picking up. He wondered how far they'd make it before Tony pinned him against a wall somewhere.

The boarding ramp clanked to the deck as Steve finished the shut down sequence. "Don't go too far!" Steve called out as the rest of the Avengers piled out of the Quinjet. "Debriefing at 1600." A chorus of agreement echoed around the bay even as Steve jogged down the boarding ramp himself, Tony close on his heels.

Tony kept his helmet on until they were through the common areas. Steve's mouth went dry with anticipation. God, if he didn't even want the rest of them to see his expression... Steve pushed back the remains of his cowl and quickly pulled off his gloves, just in case. A series of metallic clicks and a soft hiss drew Steve's eyes like a magnet and he turned to look at Tony.

His hair was damp with sweat, his lips slightly swollen, as if he'd been chewing on them, and his eyes, his eyes were smoldering. Steve didn't realize he'd stopped walking until Tony seized him by the remains of the front of his costume and hauled him into their blessedly close by bedroom. "Tony--" was all Steve managed to get out before his back slammed into the wall by the bedroom door and Tony kissed him, hard and hungry, the Iron Man helmet falling to the floor with a loud clank.

Steve struggled to keep up with the press of lips and tongue, overwhelmed by the scent of Tony's sweat and the scrape of his goatee across Steve's jaw. It went on and on, both of them sucking air in through their noses, unwilling to break the kiss, and Steve clutched at Tony, finding only the smooth, hard curves of the armor. He forced himself to break the kiss. "Tony," he gasped, "aren't you going to take off the armor?"

Tony caught Steve's eye and grinned wickedly. "I don't know," he said. "It might still be useful."

"Useful?"

"Useful," Tony repeated huskily, taking Steve's already shredded leather and mail shirt in two gauntleted fists and tearing it apart like tissue paper.

Steve stared. "Oh God," he said weakly.

Tony snapped Steve's belt and ripped away his pants with equal ease. It was all Steve could do to toe off his boots and socks. Then Tony crowded him back against the wall, unyielding metal pressing against Steve's skin, and Steve realized with a start that with Tony armored and himself naked Tony was taller than he was. For the first time, Steve had to tilt his head up a little to meet Tony's kiss. Somehow it made everything seem brand new and Steve found himself sucking eagerly on Tony's tongue like he'd never done it before.

A solid, smooth thigh pressed between Steve's legs; he made an involuntary noise in the back of his throat and let Tony spread him wide. The armor wasn't cold. In fact, somehow, it was warmer than bare skin. Steve moaned at the touch of the hard metal and, carefully, rocked his hips against it.

Breaking the kiss, Tony pulled back just far enough to run his eyes over Steve. "Sometimes I can't imagine how I went so long without pinning you down and running my hands all over you." Tony suited actions to words, trailing the tips of his fingers over Steve's pecs and abs, tracing the arch of his hipbone and pulling him just far enough away from the wall to palm the cheek of his ass. The touch was familiar, but the textures were all new, the fingertips of the armor smooth and flawless, the palm of it ridged with repulsor ports. Steve arched into every little touch without meaning to, skin tingling with sensation.

He struggled to form words, losing them in a gasp as Tony rubbed a thumb over one nipple. God, that wasn't just his skin tingling! There was an almost imperceptible hum running through the armor. "Tony," Steve managed finally. "What is that humming?"

"Humming?" Tony asked, pausing with his thumb still touching Steve's nipple, the slight, subtle sensation lighting up a thread of brilliant pleasure straight from there to his groin.

"In the armor," Steve said, gasping for breath. He could feel the humming through the touch to his nipple, the hand on his ass, the press of Tony's thigh between his legs, everywhere the armor touched him.

"Must be the power," Tony murmured. "I can't feel it, but there's more shielding on the inside. Is it okay?"

"Okay?" Steve demanded, moaning deeply as Tony stroked his thumb over Steve's nipple.

Tony chuckled. "I see." His voice was low and husky. "Why don't we take advantage of that, hmmm?"

Steve made an involuntary noise of protest when Tony pulled away from him, but Tony just turned Steve to face the wall and pressed his armored body full length against Steve's back, wrapping his arms around him, gauntleted hands stroking his chest and belly. Steve moaned and braced his hands against the wall, pressing back against Tony's immovable, unyielding body.

"You feel so good," Steve all but whimpered. He caught his breath as smooth, powerful fingers stroked lightly over his length. Then Tony shifted away from him a little. "Tony..."

"Shhh," Tony said softly. "You're going to like this." His hand brushed past Steve's hip and over the curve of his ass and Steve had an instant to wonder what this would feel like with Tony armored before a slick, smooth touch breached his body and slid inside.

Steve gasped, momentarily overwhelmed with sensation. The warmth of the armor, the extra stretch of the gauntlets, the subtle hum...not a vibration, but the pulse of the power coursing through Tony's armor was tangible just the same. Steve shuddered and moaned, the sound torn from deep within him.

"Jesus," Tony groaned. "You have no idea how hot you look right now." Even as he spoke he stretched Steve, his touch less gentle than it could've been, his other hand stroking Steve eagerly.

It took a few long moments before Steve could dredge coherent words up out of his mind. "Take me," he finally rasped out. "Please, inside me now."

"You're not ready yet," Tony argued. A second finger, as broad as the first, slowly pushed into Steve and he let out a choked, needy sound.

"I don't care," Steve said hoarsely. "I want you. I need you. Filling me, stretching me, please." Steve knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to help himself. The smoothness of the gauntlets, the hum he'd liked so much, was just a tease now. "Need you hot and rough, taking me, giving me--" he broke off into an anticipatory moan as Tony's fingers slid from his body.

There was a thump as another piece of Tony's armor fell to the floor...but only one piece. Steve cried out at the intimate pressure of Tony, bare and hot with arousal, slowly invading him. "Yes," Steve moaned, pushing back against Tony, hurrying him.

As their bodies pressed close together once more, Tony splayed his gauntleted hands over Steve's chest and rested his head for a moment on Steve's shoulder. "Give me a second," he panted, "to get a grip on myself."

Steve couldn't think, couldn't scrape together the focus needed to speak. Tony was buried deep inside of him, the ache and stretch of it so sweet it rivaled the shuddering pleasure driven along Steve's nerves by the power running through the armor. All he could do was grind back against Tony, driving himself ever closer to completion.

"Steve," Tony said, almost desperately. "Steve." And then he could only groan in surrender and pull back to thrust into Steve, the action ragged with desire.

The shock of Tony's hips slamming into his tore a single word from Steve: "Yes!" He braced himself against the wall, taking Tony's pounding with cries of pleasure. He could feel the enhanced strength of the armor driving Tony's body, was brilliantly aware of the force that could be exerted by the gauntlets splayed over his chest. Maybe it should have made him nervous, but all Steve could think--when he could think at all--was that this was a part of Tony that he'd never had before and he loved it, just like he loved everything else.

Tony was moaning his name over and over again, as if it was the only word he knew, as if it could mean anything he wanted it to. He felt so good, sliding into Steve again and again, full and deep, but it wasn't quite enough. Steve needed more, needed Tony to touch him, to feel Tony's hands, clad in metal that was far more than mere iron, stroking him and caressing him and squeezing him. "Tony," Steve managed, his voice breaking with pleasure. "Touch me. Please, I want your hands around me."

"I'll hurt you," Tony said shakily.

Steve shook his head. "You won't. You won't, you've always had better control than that, you won't, please, you touched me before..."

Tony laughed breathlessly. "I wasn't...so far gone before," he moaned, pausing a moment to just grind against Steve, his fingers flexing against Steve's sweat-slick chest.

"Please," Steve begged, unable to scrape together any more convincing words. "I want it so much, want you to touch me, please, please..." He spread his legs a little more, rocking his hips against Tony.

"Oh God," Tony gasped. One of his hands slid down Steve's body, broad, warm, impossibly smooth fingers sliding over chest and abdomen and belly and brushing against sensitive skin before curling firmly around Steve, holding him so delicately.

Steve made himself speak, urging Tony onward. "Yes. More." He thrust into Tony's hand, groaning softly as the motion let Tony slide from within his body, groaning louder when Tony pushed into him again, driving Steve's hips harder into Tony's hand. Carefully, so carefully, Tony held Steve tighter, increasing the pressure in tiny increments until Steve muttered, "There. Perfect." It occurred to Steve that, between the armor and the way Tony's mind worked, it was likely that Tony now knew the exact degree of pressure Steve liked. He moaned deeply at the idea of being known in such fine detail.

Steadily, Tony picked up his rhythm again, his breath coming harsh and hot against the back of Steve's neck, gauntleted fingers sliding along Steve, his length thick and hard within Steve, tossing him from one wave of pleasure to another until it was all Steve could do to remain standing.

Tony's breath caught, his rhythm stuttering, and he let out a long, keening sigh of completion as he pulsed hotly inside of Steve. His hand closed just a hair tighter around Steve as he came and it was all Steve needed to tip him over the edge, too. They both sagged as they came down off of their high and Tony had to wrap an arm around him, holding him up for a moment.

Steve's stance soon steadied and he carefully took his weight back from both Tony and the wall he'd been braced against. Tony gently pulled away from him and Steve turned just in time to see the last of the armor disengage and fly away from Tony's body to settle into a pile, the red and gold somewhat smudged with sweat and...other things. Steve fought down a blush and stepped up to pull Tony into a long, slow kiss instead.

"How is it," Tony murmured as their lips parted, "that no one has ever reacted to the armor like that before? I carry people around on a regular basis."

"Context is everything," Steve suggested. "Normally you only carry people in the middle of some sort of crisis. It is a very subtle sensation. I wouldn't have noticed it, except I was pretty focused on you. How you felt. And, um," Steve didn't quite blush, "because I was naked."

"Still. Maybe I should invest in a bit more shielding," Tony said. Steve couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. It must have shown, because Tony smirked suddenly. "Shielding that I can turn off when I please, of course."

There was only one way to get rid of that smirk. Steve kissed him.