Steve had won most of his battles back in the war not by brute force, but by understanding the task at hand. By strategy, careful application of assets and a willingness to take extraordinary measures to achieve success. It was no different in the modern world; the objectives were different, but the same old principles never steered him wrong. He'd won with them before, and this would be no different.
"So," Steve started experimentally, nudging Tony's ankle to get his attention. "Pepper told me that you like cars."
They were gathered around the breakfast table, eating. The Avengers didn't eat together usually, since they all had their own schedules to keep. But Natasha and Clint both had excellent radars for amusement, Bruce kept to a strict meal regimen and Thor was like Steve in that he never seemed to run out of room for food. Advanced metabolisms had that sort of hazard. Rather than the strong black coffee Steve had expected Tony to be drinking, he had some sort of chocolate-looking shake and a banana, served up on a silver platter by robot.
Tony's eyes didn't lift from the tablet computer he used instead of a newspaper. He was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn the day before, but it was hard to tell if the t-shirt was rumpled from having been picked up off the floor or worn all night. With Tony it could have been either. "You called Pepper by her first name," he said, blatantly avoiding the question. "Only I'm allowed to do that."
"I call her Pepper," Natasha put in, cradling her coffee with both hands.
The line of Tony's mouth tightened subtly as he cut his eyes sideways over to Natasha. Steve could actually see him calculating how far he could push her before she found an excuse to put him in a judo hold. "Yes, well that's—that's entirely different, that's special. She used to think you worked for her and Pepper likes her employees to be comfortable. She's my ex, only I get to call her by her real name."
"She asked me to call her that," Steve said patiently. Granted, Pepper had asked him to after she'd pinned him to her desk during a lunch break. Sex with someone calling her Ms. Potts, she'd said, was only hot the first three times. Natasha had confirmed it for him. "And she said you like cars. You've got a Mark I Continental."
That got Tony to look up, eying Steve like he was a tricky piece of machinery that Tony wasn't sure he wanted to play with or not. "Pepper told you all that?" Steve nodded. "Huh. Yeah, I've got one. Well, two, but the other one's in California. What, you wanted to take it for a spin? I can get you the keys. JARVIS, have—"
"Oh, no—" Hurriedly, Steve reached across the table, touching Tony's wrist lightly. "I didn't want to drive it. I was wondering if you could use it to explain newer cars to me?"
Behind Tony at the kitchen counter, Clint's nose wrinkled and he made a vulgar gesture with his hands. Steve did his best to ignore it, eyes solidly on Tony. He didn't need help from Mr. One Night Stand.
Slowly, Tony lowered the tablet and settled it on the table, close to a small smear of butter from Thor's waffles. He stared at Steve with a tilt of the head, as if the angle change would help. The three not-Clint Avengers studiously began pretending to focus on their own breakfasts, but under the table Natasha's toes poked at Steve's ankles.
"You want me to explain modern cars to you?" The inside of Tony's wrist was strangely soft, corded with muscle and thick veins but skin silky as any woman's. "My time's a valuable commodity. Why don't you hire a teacher?"
After the incident with Loki that had nearly killed them all, Steve had been forced to get used to winnowing his way through conversations with Tony. It took effort and the ability to be a smartass on the run, but he had plenty of both. "My mother taught me to only trust people who do it for love, not money." That got him a faintly terrified look, so Steve reeled it back in before be pushed too far. "Come on, Tony, please? Cars aren't like they used to be. It's all computer chips and stuff, and I figured that you're the guy to go to for that."
Tony looked like he was still recovering from hearing an allusion to prostitution from Steve's mouth. Notably, he hadn't snatched his wrist away yet. "I don't know. I have a thing..."
"Just a couple of hours of hands on," Steve nearly begged, voice low and persuasive. Thor and Bruce coughed at the same time. "I don't need my hand held, I just want to get some grease on my knuckles and knock around under the hood with a buddy. Come on, please?"
"I—" Licking his lips, Tony stared at Steve, barely breathing. Abruptly he yanked away, grabbing his shake and the rest of his banana as he made for the door like his ass was on fire. "Yeah, sure, why not? A couple of hours, no problem. Come down around noon. I need to do paperwork or something."
Clint had the decency to give it a whole ninety seconds before he busted out laughing. "Knock around under the hood with a buddy? Seriously? Did you look up car-related innuendos or is it a natural talent?"
"You expected me to be subtle?" Steve turned to Natasha and Bruce for support, but Bruce had his face hidden in his hands and Natasha was snickering, leaning against Thor's bicep for support. "It wasn't that bad."
"You may have had more fortune had you been less... circumspect in your adventures," Thor commented idly, taking a bite of bacon. He was the only one not showing signs of laughing at Steve, which was a plus. One out of four wasn't good, but it was better than none. "Did it never occur to you to attempt a direct approach?"
Slinking down in his chair, Steve huffed. "Not exactly. It's—Tony. You know how it is."
It's Tony explained a lot of things, from why Steve occasionally had to steal his clothes back from a robot to the inexplicable presence of a super-sonic jet on the roof. He was the only person on the Avengers who hadn't gotten the memo that Steve wasn't some sort of idol for small children to look up to. He never failed to look startled when Steve swore, no matter how many times it slipped out. Considering how long Steve had spent trying not to adjust to the modern world, that wasn't actually surprising. Or it wouldn't have been if swearing, drinking and casual sex had been invented after 1945.
When Steve had finally accepted, really accepted, that he was in the future for good, he'd gone looking for reasons to enjoy the modern world. Once he'd started paying attention, it hadn't taken long to find them. Sex had been something Steve had never tried, and he'd set about rectifying that with a vengeance. First Natasha, then Pepper, then both. After that he'd found the rest of the Avengers more than happy to accommodate his goals, either on their own terms or with their various partners. There was only one person that had eluded him so far.
Back in his day men had sex all the time, but there were limits that had made it seem easier just to wait. He'd lost his chance with Peggy because it was easier to wait.
He wasn't going to lose any more chances.
Natasha had finally unfolded herself from Thor's arm, and was at least looking a little sympathetic. Reaching out with her bare foot, she patted Steve's thigh, maybe a bit higher up than was actually necessary. "Are you sure you're up for this? Maybe you should try an orgy or two before taking on the king."
"Tony. The King of Slut Mountain." Her expression stayed firmly locked in one of perfect, friendly concern. It was another reminder of exactly why Natasha was such an exemplary undercover agent. "I know you've been working up to it," her gesture took in the other three around the table, and by implication everyone else Steve had slept with who wasn't there, "but if you're going to steal the crown and plant your flag, it's going to take some work"
Even though he wasn't sure if she was teasing him or not, Steve gave it a moment of serious thought. "I'm an American—I'm Captain America. Planting flags on things is what we do."
The four Avengers gave him a long look. Thor raised his milk, followed by Bruce's apple juice, Clint's protein shake and finally Natasha's coffee.
"Good luck," they chorused.
Steve didn't bother to dignify that by reacting.
Steve entered the workshop at precisely noon, dressed for hunting in a white undershirt that was just a size too small and a pair of blue jeans that were more hole than denim. As soon as he walked in a blast of overkill air conditioning hit him full on, prickling his skin. It was joined by a heavy bass that he could feel in his teeth.
At first there was no sign of Tony, but the music meant he was there somewhere. JARVIS never left it running in an empty room unless he was ordered to—Steve had the feeling that the AI hated the music exactly as much as Tony liked it. Since there was no obvious place to start, and Steve probably wouldn't be able to hear JARVIS over the noise even if he asked, he started to wander around.
For being essentially the same thing in purpose, Tony's workshop in New York wasn't anything like the one in Malibu. It was more compact, built in levels rather than on a single sprawl, and seemingly made of storage containers and cluttered tables. The cars were set on another floor all of their own eight feet overhead. It was fully accessible by stair and lift, but well out of the way of most normal explosions. Everything else went down to a series of sub-basement levels
Figuring he may as well start with the obvious, Steve went up.
Tony was sprawled half-way underneath a peacock blue roadster whose make and model Steve couldn't quite pinpoint. He wasn't, as far as Steve could tell, actually working on anything so much as just bouncing along to the music while lying on his back under a car.
The music was heavy enough to mask Steve's footsteps as he approached, so he took advantage of it to take in the picture. Tony was still in the same jeans from before—the oil stain on the knee was unmistakably shaped like a wrench. His shirt had rucked up high enough that Steve couldn't see the hem, showing off a slender trail of dark hair leading down from his bellybutton.
Licking his lips, Steve considered for a moment, then straddled Tony's knees. A quick grab and yank rolled Tony out from under the car, though Steve still had to catch a fist aimed at his kneecap before Tony realized it wasn't an attack.
As it turned out, Tony's shirt wasn't rucked up so much as it was totally absent. The arc reactor shone like a flashlight in the shadow of the roadster, highlighting the dip of his abs and the sharp cut of his hipbones where they peeked over a low, low waistband.
"It's noon," Steve shouted over the music. He could barely hear himself, but JARVIS helpfully dimmed the noise anyway. "It's noon," Steve repeated, in more normal tones. "Is this the one we're working on?"
Tony stared up at him blank-faced, puzzled for just a fraction of a second before higher processing functions kicked in. "Noon—noon! Yeah, it is noon. Already? No, of course already, or you wouldn't be here." He tried to roll under Steve's legs, only to be blocked by Steve's foot in front of the wheel. "Come on, let me up, I want to start you on something a little less tricky."
Reluctant but unable to justify trapping Tony under him just then, Steve moved out of the way and Tony scrambled to his feet.
The row of cars was relatively short but expensive, filled with sleek Audis, Ferraris and cars Steve couldn't even pronounce. At the very end, completely out of place next to a glossy black Benz, was a battered red pickup truck. It stood out like a raccoon at a high class dog show. The front end was dinged and dented, and the sun had already done damage to the paint on the hood.
"Two-thousand three Ford F-150. New enough to give you something modern, old enough that the computerized systems are minimal." Tony patted the hood briskly. "Good learning tool."
Steve paced around the truck slowly. From the way it was battered, the truck hadn't had a kind life. There was even still mud on the tires. It wasn't anything he'd expected Tony to own, except in a distant, subsidiary company sort of way. Definitely it wasn't something to be included in his private collection.
He got his answer when he got to the back and saw the temporary tag. "Did you buy a truck so we could take it apart?"
"Yes?" Tony stared at him in confusion. "You needed something to start on, I didn't have anything for a learner, so I picked one up."
Only in Stark-ese did buying a vehicle sound like a run for milk. Steve wasn't sure whether to be flattered or not. He settled for a smile. "That's... thanks, Tony. That was great of you."
With his usual grace and humility, Tony waved it aside. "I'm a great man. Come on, let's pop the hood."
The next half hour was spent with Steve watching as Tony leaned over the hood of the truck and pointed out changes in cars that had happened since the forties. There were surprisingly few, but that probably had to do with the way SHIELD hoarded all the flying cars for itself. Steve edged in close to Tony's hip and tried to pretend like he was paying as much attention to the engine as to Tony's bare shoulder.
Tony leaned in farther to dig out the oil gauge, which was inexplicably buried behind the battery. Helpfully, Steve put his hand in the small of Tony's back.
Immediately, Tony went from relaxed to tense. His muscles clenched under Steve's palms as he twisted to shoot him a suspicious look. Steve put on his best innocent expression. Touring with the USO had unexpected benefits. "Yeah?"
"I... Nothing." Tony turned back to what he was doing, and Steve's hand stayed exactly where it was. Tony's skin was smooth and tight, with the silky feel of someone who'd recently spent too much time in the sun. Steve let his thumb roll in small, inconsequential circles along Tony's spine, and tried to actually listen for a few minutes to give Tony a chance to settle down. Checking engine fluids wasn't the most exciting part of cars, but it was either listen or think of baseball scores.
When the faint tremble in Tony's back finally eased, Steve leaned in closer. Their sizes were too different to rest his chin on Tony's shoulder, but Steve did the next best thing and just plastered himself against Tony's back. Somehow, in spite of the overwhelming air conditioning, Tony managed to be warm even without a t-shirt.
This time, there was only a short hiccup in Tony's patter before he soldiered on. The explanation of oil filters turned from simple to bizarre as Tony started in on the difference between types of filters. Steve nodded along and made encouraging noises where applicable.
Leaning down slightly, Steve brushed his lips over the curve of Tony's ear. "What's that part do?"
Once again, Tony went still and tense, only this time Steve could feel it against him from shoulder to hip. "You know, if you were a woman I'd think you were coming on to me," he joked, but there was a tick in his voice that was almost a question mark.
"I didn't think I was being that subtle," Steve answered honestly.
Tony twisted around, managing to stay wedged firmly between Steve and the bumper of the pickup. His knees touched the outside of Steve's, denim rubbing lightly. "Subtle as neon. I didn't think Captain America was into that sort of thing."
Since Tony had obligingly left himself open for it, Steve slotted neatly between his thighs. His fingers hooked in the belt loops of Tony's jeans, holding him loosely in place. "Captain America might not be, but Steve Rogers definitely is. That is..." He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "If Tony Stark is?"
In answer, Tony stretched up and kissed Steve straight on the mouth. More like it, Steve thought, meeting the kiss eagerly. There was a faint hint of coconut chapstick, and a lot of very, very eager tongue. Their bodies slotted together, Steve's hips lining up against Tony's with a perfect roll, chests pressed so the arc reactor was a cold breath of metal next to the heat of Tony's skin. Inch by slow inch, Tony's back arched, until he was hanging over the truck engine and clinging to Steve to stay upright.
"Open hood—probably not a good idea," Tony breathed, using his thighs around Steve's hips to grind their cocks together. "We should go to bed."
Bed was fifty stories and three hallways away. "Better idea," Steve muttered. He slid his hands under Tony's ass and back and lifted.
"Fuck!" Tony's arms and legs tightened into a stranglehold. "Holy shit, warn a guy!"
"I thought I did." By no means was Tony a light man—he was compact, all dense muscle and bone, but Steve had lifted three women and a motorcycle over his head with ease back in the day. Carrying a single man one car over was easy by comparison.
Tony's back touched down on the hood of the sports car before he loosened his grip. He looked around curiously, sprawled across the front of the car with his heels braced on the bumper. "The McLaren? Excellent taste."
"It was closest." Skipping the rest of the preliminaries, Steve just went straight for Tony's crotch. There were three buttons and a zipper, but he had them all undone in a split-second. Reaching in, Steve wrapped his hand unimpeded around Tony's cock. "Commando?"
"I like to let the boys—fuck!" Back arched, Tony's hips rose off the slick black hood. "Didn't we just have the warnings discussion?"
Steve grinned and dragged his tongue over the head of Tony's cock again, swirling it across the tip. Cold metal dug into his knee through one of the rips in his jeans as he braced himself against the front bumper. "Was that a discussion? I didn't think it was."
To keep Tony still, he pressed the flat of his palm to his hip as his lips dragged down the shaft. It turned out to be necessary. Tony squirmed relentlessly, fingers tangled in Steve's hair. Unsurprisingly he was cut, which Steve was starting to suspect was normal these days. He took his time investigating the differences between Tony's dick and the other Avengers', savoring the sounds whenever he found somewhere particularly sensitive. One leg swung around to hook on Steve's shoulders, pressing him down with a flex of surprisingly strong thigh muscles.
By the time he actually wrapped his lips around Tony's dick and suckled, Tony had been reduced to little whimpers and curses. When the head nudged the back of his throat, Steve focused on relaxing his muscles and let it slowly slide down. He didn't stop until the trail of hair under Tony's bellybutton tickled his nose. Rolling his eyes up to watch Tony's face, Steve swallowed.
Tony's whole body spasmed. His muscles clenched, keeping Steve pinned against him with his thigh. It was impossible to grin with his mouth full, but Steve felt his cheeks straining to try. Keeping everything slow and easy, Steve pulled away, tongue cupping the underside of Tony's cock until just the tip was left in, cheek hollow with suction. Then he dropped down again, falling into an easy rhythm. After a few minutes, Tony's heel started keeping a beat with the music against Steve's shoulder. He was almost certain Tony didn't even notice what he was doing.
Steve kept his fingers curled around Tony's balls, rolling them in his palm now and then. When he felt them start to draw up he pulled away, cock falling free with a damp pop.
Bleary brown eyes stared at him from up on the car. Color flushed his cheeks and chest, making the light from the arc reactor look cold next to Tony's skin. "You've been keeping secrets, Captain," he accused, tugging gently where his hands were still fisted in Steve's hair. "C'mere."
"Not secrets. You just didn't notice." Steve let himself be pulled up, settling back between Tony's thighs. Inside his jeans, his cock was stiff and aching, would have been tenting them if they weren't so thick. Just the slight pressure of Tony's dick against it made Steve's throat work. "I never tried to hide anything."
"Teach me not to make assumptions." Kindly, Tony went to work on Steve's pants. Normally nimble fingers fumbled at the tight buttonhole, but Steve held still long enough for Tony to get him undone. He wrapped around Steve with a firm, callused hand. "God, I hope you planned this out. I don't keep condoms and lube in my workshop."
"Vast oversight on your part." Steve nipped Tony's lower lip. It was flushed and full, with definite signs of teeth marks where Tony had been chewing on it. "In my back pocket."
"Always prepared, I knew it." Tony's free hand wiggled into Steve's pocket. The denim was unforgivingly tight; his hand wiggled for every inch before emerging triumphant with a couple of small foil squares and a tube of travel-sized lubricant. "You know pockets are horrible for latex, right? All the heat."
"Shut up, Tony." Steve set the supplies aside on the hood of the Mercedes and went to work on Tony's jeans. They weren't nearly as well-fitted as his were, but sweat and heat had resulted in them molding against his body. Eventually he managed to peel them off, taking Tony's sneakers and socks in the process. Long, thin scars laced Tony's calves and knees, accompanied by a few old burn marks that were still pale and shiny. None of them looked like the sort of thing that would happen in workshop accidents.
Steve traced one, following it up the curve of calf to the back of Tony's thigh, following as it curled around and ended up on the inside. Later, he was definitely going to be asking some questions about exactly when Tony had been through a glass window without the armor on.
When he reached out to wrap his hand around Tony's cock again, he was blocked by a suddenly appearing arm. "Nuh-uh, fair's fair, if I'm going to be naked so are you. Off with the clothes. Chop, chop, soldier."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Stark," Steve rolled his eyes but obliged, shimmying out of his blue jeans. Wearing tight leather on a regular basis had given him a talent for digging himself out of tight clothing, but it never stopped the sensation of being able to breathe again. His shirt he tossed up onto the hood where it hooked on the windshield wiper.
Tony's eyes drank him in, running from Steve's face down to his knees and then back up to about his rib cage. Smirking, he pushed up to sit more than sprawl, feet propped up on the hood and knees spread. "That's more like it. You should come with a little bow tie next time. And a stripper pole."
Next time were two words Steve liked to hear together. He braced his knees on the car, stretching over Tony to look down at him. The slick black paint job was a good backdrop for the obscene stretch of Tony's body. "Like in your jet?"
"Who told you about that?"
"Rhodey." Grinning, Steve reached for the lube, popping open the cap with his thumb. "He told me about the flight attendants too."
"Of course— hey wait a second." Tony's knees suddenly locked closed in front of Steve's stomach, which was more than a little ridiculous since he didn't bother moving his feet from their wide spread. "What makes you think you're on top? It's my car we're fucking on here."
"And this is my plan." Instead of pulling back, Steve pressed his abs into Tony's knees, just letting his weight fall on them. Really, Steve wouldn't mind being the one to get fucked into the hood of a Mercedes, but he wanted to see what it looked like on Tony first. "If it were up to you, we'd still be talking about oil filters."
At first it seemed like Tony might keep objecting. His eyes stayed narrow and he stared at Steve hard. After a second, his elbows gave way and he dropped back to the sheet metal with a thump. "God, you're hot when you're pushy. Fine. Ravish me, Captain America, ravish me."
Steve stared. "I should leave you here just for that."
"You knew what you were getting into when you decided to seduce me." Rolling his wrist in a circle, Tony gestured to his still-hard cock. "Are you going to get on with this?"
Since the cap to the lube was still open, Steve spread some across his fingers. "You're impossible."
Tony spread his legs wider, hissing a little when Steve pressed his index finger in. His hips rose a few inches, making it easier for Steve to slide his finger in. "You're already half way through your plan. If you let a little humor stop you then you don't deserve it—ah! There—right there— God, you have big fingers. Were they always like that or is it a super soldier thing?"
"I don't know. Is talking a sex thing?" It was starting to become hard to focus on Tony's body when his voice just wouldn't stop. Steve twisted his finger in Tony, curling it up to prod at his prostate. The only noticeable response was a squeak interrupting mid-word before the flow of talk started right up again.
"Yes— Yes it— okay, your hands really are huge, my God—"
There was no shutting Tony up without a blowjob involved, Steve realized. Tony just kept talking, through two fingers, through kisses, through everything. Suddenly, a vast number of Pepper's little comments made an amazing amount of sense.
It's worked once already, he decided. Pepper was a fount of good ideas.
"Tony?" Steve asked, slipping down until his lips ghosted across Tony's stomach. "Shut up." He folded himself in two to take Tony's dick between his lips.
Immediately, silence. Tony's hips worked in little rolls, riding back against Steve's fingers. The only sounds that came from his throat were little strangled noises and a breathless moan. Steve sucked down Tony's cock hard, focusing more on pressure than finesse. The lack of delicacy didn't seem to upset Tony at all, if he even noticed.
It was a blessing for his concentration as he worked Tony open His fingers curled and flexed, massaging Tony's muscles until they finally started to relax. Being Tony, and therefore never very cooperative, no sooner did Steve start thinking of adding a third before Tony tensed up again and everything started over.
Steve's jaw started to ache after a while, even enhanced muscles not meant for that sort of prolonged work. By the time Tony was actually relaxed, Steve had used much more lube than was probably necessary. It left little smears and drops on the hood and Tony's skin, but there was no such thing as too much.
He pulled his fingers out at the same time as he let Tony's cock drop from between his lips. The foil condom packet slipped in his fingers, but he managed to get it open and the condom rolled on with only a few fumbles.
One of Tony's legs rose up to wrap around Steve's waist, heel digging into the small of his back. His cock slid along Steve's, lube from the condom making it smooth and easy. "No way you didn't learn that from Pepper," he accused in the most cheerful tone Steve had ever heard. "That's her thing, with the fingers and the blowjob and that tongue trick."
Steve hadn't even noticed doing the tongue trick. "Sex now, talk later." Pinning Tony down to the hood with his body, Steve lined his cock up and slowly started to ease inside.
"What you— Oh— god—What, you don't want to admit you fucked my—my CEO and ex-girlfriend?" Tony's body curled and arched, drawing his hips up to make it easier for Steve to push inside him."I'm not blaming you or anything, she's a big girl and can take care of herself—"
Frustrated, Steve stretched out and snatched his t-shirt from the windshield. He shoved it between Tony's lips, muffling him in the middle of a sentence. Tony blinked at him over the wad of white cotton, eyes wide in shock. Just in case, Steve used two fingers to push a little more in.
"Talk later," he growled. "Sex now."
Tony stared, jaw tightening around the shirt and chest heaving in a sharp breath. Just when Steve started to wonder if he'd gone too far, Tony's fingers bit into Steve's shoulders as he rocked his hips up into Steve's. He groaned, the sound muffled and thick behind his makeshift gag, and did it again. Glossy metal squeaked when the movement slid Tony down the hood, bare skin dragging against it.
The sudden friction caught Steve's breath and yanked it away. His hands wrapped around Tony's hips to hold him in place as he took over the motion. Tony seemed perfectly content just to hold on and let himself be fucked, cock grinding against Steve's stomach.
What Tony couldn't put into words, he put into motion and low, guttural sounds that didn't need words to be perfectly understandable. His head fell back against the hood of the car, leaving his neck perfect for Steve's teeth to paint hickies across.
Slow, deep thrusts of Steve's cock in him made Tony whimper, where a faster one made his whole body curl. The Mercedes rocked under them, creaking rubber and fiberglass protesting the treatment. Sweat from both of them dripped down onto the car, leaving smeared streaks across the paint.
After how long Steve had been working on him, it wasn't much of a surprise when Tony came first. His whole body tensed, heel pounding a bruise into Steve's hip. The t-shirt couldn't stifle his shout enough to hide the words fuck or Steve. Then Tony just collapsed back onto the car, languid and boneless and, above all, silent. There was something about seeing Tony debauched into placidity that sparked in Steve's blood. Before he knew it, he was following Tony down into orgasm, pressing their mouths together around the t-shirt in something almost like a kiss.
When he could work his arms again, Steve discarded the used condom and the now-soggy shirt. Tony stayed wrapped around him, face nuzzled into his neck. There was no way Steve was going to be able to get up unless he wanted to drag Tony along. Sweat and come started cooling on their skin, sticky and more than a little gross once the flush of sex was gone.
"We should probably get dressed," Steve said reluctantly. He tried to pull away enough to look Tony in the eye, but Tony had latched on and wouldn't let go.
"Nuh-uh, nope, not happening." Kisses scratched across Steve's jaw and neck where Tony's goatee scraped. "I'm comfortable right here."
"What if someone walks—"
"The only person who will walk in unannounced is Pepper," Tony cut him off. He wiggled higher up on the hood, to a spot that was less sloped. It had the effect of letting Steve finally see his expression. His eyes were hooded and his smile lazy; if Tony had been a cat, he'd have been curled up in a sunny window and probably purring. "Who has, according to all available evidence, already seen us both in flagrante delicto, and therefore doesn't count. Which, by the way, is a story I'm dying to hear because three months ago you were a virgin and now you've seduced your way to the top of one of the larger Fortune 500s. Twice."
Steve didn't want to know how Tony knew he'd been a virgin when he'd woken up. He really didn't. "I don't know if I should tell you. We've only kind of had sex."
"Excuse me?" Tony actually looked affronted. "I think you pounded a Tony Stark shaped dent into my 2012 McLaren. You swallowed my dick whole. That was definitely sex."
"I had sex with you," Steve clarified, shifting his hip to press it against Tony's cock. They were both still soft, but Steve wasn't going to count out anything off hand. "You just laid back and let me handle things. I don't think you get to hear about me and Pepper until you've had sex with me." His brain hurt from finding the twists in logic necessary to make the statement make sense.
He wondered if that was how Tony thought all the time.
Tony let out a bark of laughter. "I don't know. You're bigger than me. If I tried to pin you to a car I'd probably throw out my back and let me tell you, sex in traction isn't as fun as you'd think."
It was pretty much impossible to see Tony smiling and naked without wanting to kiss him. So Steve did, and being able to was the best part. "Okay, you can do me a favor instead. A small one."
"Oh?" One of Tony's eyebrows lifted. "Does this involve anal beads?"
"No—not this time, anyway." Steve looked down at Tony with his best earnest expression. "Next time you see Natasha, I want you to tell her I'm king of the mountain."