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Take Two

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There’s a plan already forming in the back of Tony’s mind and he knows it’s teasing, but it’s not an opportunity he can willingly pass up. He finds the perfect shade of blue at an outlet near Avengers Tower, and he wasn’t even actively looking. They’re a striking sapphire, the exact shade of Captain America’s costume. He’ll just have to modify a few details, implement the star and paint the strap red. He hides away in his workshop before Steve can find him and gets to work, finishing within an hour.

Now. Now it’s time for strategy.

It’s a decision, he knows, that will get him in trouble. The best kind of trouble. Steve always leaves their room just after six, waking Tony up with a drugging kiss before going for his morning run. Tony has meetings today. He doesn’t like that he has meetings today, but they create the perfect reason for him to actually walk around in his newest tease.

Though, meeting at eight o’clock? He is going to shock both Steve and the goddamn board.

The heels wobble as he stands, and he has a good four extra inches now. Taking a few shaking steps, he gets the hang of it quickly, the stiletto vastly different to compensate for then the original Iron Man heels he had created. He walks to the mirror, turning slightly to the side. Adjusting his jacket, loosening his tie into a careless fix, he eyes his legs. He can just make out the glimpse of blue, the splash of white of the star. He lifts and drops his foot, grinning at the flash of colour. Perfect.

Graduating from carpet to hardwood makes things easier. He clips down the stairs, makes his way through the living room, and grins as he waltzes into the kitchen. Steve has a hip propped up on the island, eyebrow raised as Tony saunters in, coffee already in hand. Tony doesn’t have to stand on tiptoe to kiss him, instead wraps both arms around his waist and returns the drugging kiss that Steve had given him that morning. And then he clips his way out, stealing Steve’s coffee as he goes.

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes snap down to his feet, or the flush that rides high on his cheeks afterwards. Success.

 

Minor hiccup: meetings? Suck.

When he had breezed his way into the office, Pepper had practically jumped him with notifications and newsletters, only giving his new height a brief eye roll. The board had been shocked by his entrance, glancing at each other in uncertainty, and that’s what Tony lives for. To make them uncomfortable. They can’t babble behind his back now (well, they don’t, because Pepper is a scary, scary woman, and she would skin them all if they so much as blinked in agreement over certain ideals), and he sits in the chair closest to the door. He has plans today. Plans that include having Steve pin him down and fuck him until he can’t think his own name, let alone say it. And in his new Captain America heels, nonetheless.

Pepper, however, has different plans.

She’s standing by the door, guarding it from a Tony shaped escape that he still hasn’t managed to execute. It’s just after noon, and there is a seventy three percent chance that he’s having a continuous hallucination. There is no way board meetings are this boring. No way. He can’t even whine at her to let him leave because that would defeat the whole purpose of making the board uncomfortable. Instead, he’s made three different variations of the Stark Phone out of the ones he lifted from the board members that sit around him. They’re either too used to Tony’s antics, or don’t understand how the phones are supposed to become their lives. Either way, Tony deems to fix that.

Every now and then, he speaks up just to fuck with them. It’s never anything specific, just a random burst of words that draw the attention of every eye. And then he dismisses them, going back to his project. Jarvis runs diagnostic on his latest creation when the board finally, finally, calls for lunch. Tony practically trips his way out of the meeting, forgetting momentarily his new footwear and Pepper sighs at him.

“Those would’ve been better worn at home, Tony,” she says. Tony huffs at her.

“I had a plan. The plan did not include actually staying for the meetings. You are a cruel mistress, Miss Potts.”

Pepper grins, sugar sweet. “I aim to please, Mr Stark. You can tease Steve later. The next meeting will take place in an hour. I suggest food. And if you leave the office for any reason, I will personally drag you back.”

He knows it’s childish, which is why he does it. He sticks his tongue out at her. “Mad woman.”

She pinches his nose and clips away.

Of course, Tony tries to escape anyway. Pepper makes due on her promise and drags him back kicking and threatening lawsuits. She situates herself by the door, fingers tapping out on her phone and generally ignoring Tony as he makes faces at her. The board starts up again, arguing about stock prices, Tony, the new direction, the old direction, Tony, the deal made with Japan about renewable energy, Tony, how the Avengers are destroying more than they are helping, and Tony interjects that, no, that was because a Norse God decided to team up with a deranged genius and had mutant robotic bunnies together, thank you very much. Pepper snaps her fingers at him and Tony sits back with a sigh. He’s bored.

He kicks his heels and looks down at them, useless in this setting, not teasing Steve at all. And then he gets an idea.

Shifting in his seat, he sprawls enough that the camera on his phone can catch his groin and just a peak of the heels. He takes the picture, frowns, takes another, and then sends both off to Steve. That done, he goes about trying new poses in his chair: arching his back, slouching, ankles crossed, pant leg pulled up just enough. Pepper is making faces at him and the board is getting obviously uncomfortable, but Tony already knows how much their stock is going to rise after the next Stark Tower goes up. He’s done the math. It’s what he does.

His phone chirps at him. “You better be ready when you get home.” That’s it. That’s all. Tony feels heat flush his body, his pants growing uncomfortable. He bites at his tongue and sends off the other five pictures, putting emphasis on the one with his hips canted. His phone stays stubbornly silent and Tony spends the next hour imagining all the fun ways Steve will punish him when he gets home.

The meeting clears up just before five and Tony’s itching to leave, fingers tapping out rhythms on the table that have algorithmic significance, but only in his head. The board members jitter out farewells, fleeing faster than Tony can, and that gives Pepper time to snag his arm and march him toward her office.

“No, no, Pep, come on! I showed up for the meetings all day. Do you have any idea what that did to my psyche? I am emotionally damaged, only Steve can fix me, let me go home you crazy tyrant.” Tony tugs on his arm, but it’s half hearted. Pepper smiles up at him.

“You thought you were done?” She laughs, and it sounds like Evil. “Oh, Tony, you’ve neglected so much the past week, I thought you would want to stay all night to catch up!”

“This is abuse. I am being abused. You’re not my boss, I can do what I want,” Tony tries. Pepper rolls her eyes at him, her smile softening.

“I know you have plans, Tony. I just want you to take these files with you, make sure you read them, I know how you are when it comes to the boards’ ideas. Here.” She hands him a folder, crossing her arms. “Now, you’ve neglected Steve all day, the poor thing. Go.”

He drops a kiss on her cheek and clips out, practically tripping he’s in such a hurry. He makes a detour into his office, locking the door before turning to rummage through his drawers. Steve had told him to be prepared; he finds a half-finished bottle of lube tucked away in the corner of his desk. He sits down in his chair, fingers clumsy on his belt, mind whirring with all the ideas he had formed in the meeting, of Steve grabbing him and shoving him against the wall, of him sliding right in, snug and hot and so big, of him holding Tony down, hand over his mouth and fingers digging bruises into his wrists.

Flinging the belt off, Tony begins a new battle with the button of his pants. When his cock is free he has to restrain himself from jerking off. Steve had said ready. Not finished. Tony pushes his chair back, getting his heels up on the desk. The lube takes a few shakes, and when he gets a finger in himself, it’s almost too much. But he has to be prepared. He has to be ready.

Working himself open is a battle of wills. His body aches, arches, twists down on his fingers with each thrust. His mind conjures images, gives him added fuel, and he has to actively think of different topics to stop himself from coming all over his stomach. He’s flushed and dripping and he works in another finger, back bowing and heels digging into the wood of the desk.

“Fuck,” he breathes, twisting in a third. He bites his lip and works himself fast, removing his fingers when he feels that telltale tingle in his spine. He sits, heels on his desk, knees wide and ass throbbing, wanting, and closes his eyes. Now comes the difficult part.

Tugging his pants over his cock almost makes him come, the rough slide of the fabric nearly too much. He tightens his fingers around the base, squeezing his eyes shut as he thinks of everything but Steve and his hands and his mouth and his cock – no, no, wrong train of thought. He stutters out a breath and buttons his pants, catching his tongue with his teeth as he lowers his legs. This is going to kill him.

The car park is blessedly empty as he shuffles his way to his car, biting back a groan with every step. The drive home is worse, his foot heavy on the gas pedal and his body twitching with the shift and pull of his pants against his cock. The traffic doesn’t conform to his demands, and he takes the back streets to forgo waiting longer than he has to. When Avengers Tower comes into view, he’s panting so hard he’s lightheaded. The garage under is also empty and he practically trips over himself getting to the elevator.

Tony yanks out his phone and calls Steve. He picks up on the third ring. “Tony?”

“Where are you.”

“Bedroom.”

Tony clicks off and leans against the elevator banister. He’s going insane. He undoes the fly of his pants, granting a small reprieve, and shucks his jacket. When the door dings open he makes a beeline for the bedroom, clicking past the living room where Thor and Bruce are battling it out on Mario Kart Wii, and the smell of fresh pie is coming from the kitchen where Clint is cursing at Natasha. Coulson is sitting on the couch watching the duo fight on Rainbow Road, and gives Tony a short nod. Tony barely returns it.

He runs up the stairs, has to stop half way up when he almost collapses from the pleasure. He pushes the heel of his hand against his cock, bites his lip, and makes it up the rest without coming. He’s so done once he hits the bedroom.

The door is open and he practically trips through and Steve grabs him before he can even get out a word. He’s backed against the wall, Steve’s mouth against his in seconds, licking past his teeth. Tony clings, fingers scrambling at Steve’s shoulders, Steve’s not wearing a shirt, and his dog tags are cold through Tony’s button down. Steve palms his ass, and his heels kick back and they pinch and oh. Steve grinds forward and Tony whines low in his throat.

“Took too long,” Steve breathes. Tony pants out a laugh, catching Steve in another kiss as Steve walks them backwards. He’s distracted by the flick of Steve’s tongue, the way his teeth catch on Tony’s lip and pull. The bed catches behind Steve’s legs and he pulls back. “Are you ready?”

Tony laughs, breathless and lost already. “Come find out, solider.”

Tugging him down on the bed, Steve’s hands slide up and under Tony’s shirt, pressing into the dip of his back and the muscles that tense and relax. Tony shifts into his lap, knees spread wide, and the fabric of his pants rubs harsh against his hard cock. He groans, fingers sliding into Steve’s hair as Steve licks into his mouth, filthy kisses that start him rocking without even realizing. Steve’s hands shift, wide and encompassing, until they’re around his hips, fingers dipping below the hem of his pants and Steve makes a surprised noise, pulling back.

“Heels and commando?” Steve asks, and Tony catches his lips again. Steve falls into it easy, tongue catching against Tony’s teeth and mapping out the inside of his mouth. Tony groans, rocking forward and Steve drags him closer. Tony’s more frantic now, kissing harder, moving faster. The heels catch in the sheets, catch against his pants, and they pinch. He wants them on for this.

He pulls back. “Do you like them?”

Steve laughs, dipping his head to trace along Tony’s neck, tugging his tie free and working on the buttons with easy practice. But, just like always, the task is abandoned halfway through when Steve catches sight of the arc reactor. He tilts Tony back, tongue working the skin around the reactor with just as much fervor as he did Tony’s neck, and Tony can’t take it. He’s arching, scrambling, fingers slipping over Steve’s shoulders. Steve ignores him, catches the scarred skin with his teeth, and then flicks open Tony’s pants like an afterthought.

Christ,” Tony breathes, and Steve grins, dirty, up at him. His lips skim over Tony’s nipple, catching and pulling, licking around and over until Tony’s babbling. He switches, and Tony’s fighting to remain coherent, because Steve’s working him fast and they only have about one third of their clothes off. “Steve, Steve, clothes, we have – clothes, too many, ah, ah.”

Steve mutters against his skin, sucking one last time before pulling back. His lips are shiny, swollen and bitten, and Tony’s chest throbs with a delicious heat that carries right down to his dick. Steve looks at him, that smile growing, and taps at Tony’s hip.

“Up.”

Legs shaking, Tony rises and Steve works his pants down his thighs, over first one knee and then the other. He collapses forward onto Steve while Steve pulls them off, hands lingering on the sharp blue heel, tracing the star up the side, and the red strap that keeps it tight. It’s there that Steve gets distracted, fingers catching light around Tony’s ankle and pulling it wide to the side. Tony’s cock drives against Steve’s own, still covered in denim, and he whines.

“Did you make these?” Steve asks, husky, low. He draws a hand up Tony’s calf, over the inside of his thigh and settles on his ass. His other hand follows a similar path. Tony arches back into it, loving how big Steve’s hands are, how they hold him so easily, so readily. He wonders if Steve will notice. 

“Yes,” he answers, and he’s not entirely certain what the question is anymore. Steve spreads his cheeks, fingers ghosting over his wet hole, and the hitch in his breath was exactly what Tony was looking for.

The fingers move faster, sliding over and around but never in. Steve says, “You were ready.” Tony pants against Steve’s shoulder, pressing sloppy kisses against the skin he can reach. Steve continues to tease, his pulse fluttering under Tony’s tongue. “When did you have time? Did you slip out of a board meeting? Get off in the bathroom? Or where you good, and just teased yourself open, leaving your cock untouched?”

There are noises, Tony is supposed to be making noises, but he’s too busy drinking up Steve’s words and canting his hips to try and take Steve’s fingers to remember that part. Steve drags him closer, until his cock is brushing against fabric with every jerk of his hips.

Steve presses a kiss to the top of his head and shoves three fingers in. Tony’s back bows, a groan tripping off his tongue, and he works his hips faster now, the catch of cotton against his cock sharper, delicious, not what he wants.  Steve massages his prostate, over and over, merciless until Tony’s shaking with it, keeping himself from coming by sheer will. Tony writhes, wanting more, wanting bigger, and he paws at Steve’s jeans.

“You’re not ready,” Steve says. Tony bites him.

“Fuck you very much, I spent long enough making myself ready. Now fuck me, Rogers, or I’ll go and find a toy that will,” Tony retaliates. Steve grins against his temple, and Tony has enough brain functionality to realize the numbers are telling him how to open Steve’s fly. His hands are clumsy, fingers twitching with need as Steve works him to the brink. He bites his tongue, bites his lips, and finally gets Steve’s cock out. Steve pulls his fingers free, gripping Tony’s waist.

“Lube,” Steve bites out. Tony shoves Steve down so he can reach toward the pillows. Steve runs his hands down and over Tony’s thighs, up and behind his balls, catching on the rim of his hole before repeating the whole process again. Tony stalls, hands under the pillow, and Steve smacks his ass hard.

He will not admit that that was the reason he came. 

Tony stutters out a breath, cock jerking heavy against Steve’s chest. He groans, fingers closing around the lube, and Steve wraps an arm around his waist, hauling him back down. Tony buries his face in Steve’s neck, shivering from the aftershocks. Fuck. Fuck. Steve’s hand traces over the mark he left behind, and then he slaps him again.

The surprise of it all causes Tony to cry out, heels scrambling at the bed sheets. Steve huffs, keeping Tony pinned with his arm while his hand massages the new mark. “Interesting.”

Tony doesn’t have a chance to answer before Steve smacks him again, right over the last mark. It’s like a shock to the system, a jolt right to his cock, and he rocks against Steve with a high moan. Steve taps his hip then. “Up. Don’t think I’ll forget this though.”

“Really?” Tony manages, as he sits up on shaking legs. Steve sits back against the headboard, shucking his pants and tugging Tony with him. The lube is still clutched desperately in his hand. Steve takes it from him, creating a cradle with his legs for Tony to sit back in. Steve’s cock slips along his crack, his fingers following after, and Tony bucks desperate against him. He’s not hard yet, not for a bit now, but the feeling of Steve against him, so close to filling him up, makes him frantic.

Steve’s hands are on him again, spreading him wide, and Tony gasps as he slips inside. And Steve doesn’t stop, doesn’t let him adjust, just pulls back and jacks in again. Tony arches, heels ripping fabric as Steve starts a rhythm. It’s exactly what he wanted, the stretch as Steve’s cock moves inside him, the burn, the way the thrusts turn brutal the faster Steve goes. He scrambles at Steve’s chest, mouth lust stupid, and his heels pinch, the straps biting into his ankles. He wishes he could see them, until Steve hits his prostate with a hard enough thrust to send all thoughts scattered from his head.

He leans forward, catching Steve’s mouth as his half hard cock rubs against his stomach. Steve holds his hips, until he can’t move, until he’s completely at Steve’s mercy, and stops. Tony gasps at him, “Don’t you dare.”

Steve kisses him, a frantic slide of his tongue against Tony’s lips, before saying, “Ass in the air. I want to see those heels.”

Before Tony can even get out something that isn’t garbled numbers, Steve eases out of him and rolls him over. He drags Tony’s hips up, spreading his thighs wide as he thrusts back inside, and Tony keens. The angle is perfect, and Steve leans forward. His dogtags brush along Tony’s clothed spine, and Tony wishes he could feel them against his skin. Steve’s lips find the back of his neck as he grips Tony’s thighs. His legs are forced wider the closer Steve gets, until his toes are pointing and there’s another rip of fabric as the sheets catch against the stiletto. Steve licks a stripe up his neck and fucks into him.

 Steve pulls back, hand sliding down Tony’s calf until he catches on the heel. He pulls at the strap, until Tony’s heel is pressed against Steve’s leg. He groans at the stretch it gives him, at the way Steve seems to fill him up more. He wants to reach for his cock, hard and leaking into the sheets with every thrust, but can’t force himself up to get himself off. He whines, and Steve grabs his other heel, fingers loose around his ankle. He bucks back, and Steve gets a hand on his cock.

Tony shouts, his back bowing as he shoves back against Steve, fingers clawing at the sheets as Steve jacks him in tandem with his thrusts. His orgasm punches him in the gut, sharp and heady and he wails against the sheets. Steve squeezes him, continues to jack him until Tony’s whimpering into his arm. He can’t feel anything but the slick movement of Steve in him, the way he clutches around Steve, hard and impossibly hot. Steve jerks him one last time before grabbing his hips again. He groans, shaking with the strength of Steve’s thrusts, until it’s almost impossible for him to take anymore. He wants more, though, wants Steve to fuck him through the mattress, push him until he’s so oversensitized that he can’t feel anything but Steve. Steve chokes behind him, curling forward to press big and warm along his back. He’s still moving, rotating his hips and Tony bites at the sheets, bites at his arm. It’s too much and it’s wonderful and Steve groans against his back, digging bruises into Tony’s thighs as he comes. Tony moans, deep in his chest as he rocks back, clenching around Steve until Steve warns him off with the sharp bite of his fingers.

Sighing out, Tony falls against the mattress, Steve following him down but not crushing him. He squirms against the heavy weight of Steve still pressed inside him, of the pull in his thighs and the bite in his ankles. Steve stills him with a hand, with his lips, but Tony clenches and groans. Steve bites him.

“Again?” Steve asks, whisper soft against Tony’s shoulder. He’s already hardening and Tony shudders. He feels used and worn and the ache is burning through him like a wildfire. He clenches around Steve, lifting his ass with a restrained moan.

“I wore these heels for a reason,” Tony gasps out, and Steve rocks against him.

End game success.