Looking back, Tony would say it was all Barton’s fault. Seriously.
Okay, so initially it was Tony’s fault for casually trolling through Tumblr porn sites on the fridge screen while Barton and Romanoff made breakfast. His fingers slipped. Sue him.
“What the fuck is Tumblr,” Barton said around a yawn, even though it was eleven o’clock on a Thursday morning.
Romanoff snorted and patted Barton’s head. “A product of today’s youth,” she replied sweetly, right as Tony flicked to a fifteen second video of double penetration.
“The internet is a glorious paradise full of riches beyond your wildest imagination,” Tony said. The bottom on screen moaned, Fuck me! Tony didn’t bother turning the sound down.
“Also full of porn,” Romanoff said.
“Same thing,” Tony said.
Barton hopped up on the counter and pointed to the fridge’s video screen. “You’re gonna traumatize Cap with all the random dongs.”
“Please. Cap’s probably seen enough dongs to last a lifetime. Those military dudes were horny as hell.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Were you there when Darcy explained Fifty Shades of Gray to him? Christ, I thought he’d burst into flames.”
“That’s not porn,” Romanoff said pointedly. “That’s misogyny. Steve’s not an idiot.”
Tony nodded. “Agreed. Language aside, Cap’s not a prude.”
Barton shrugged. “I’m not saying he is, but I doubt he’s using the information super highway to wank.”
“Okay, first, it’s not the nineties, no one calls it that, good Lord,” Tony said, horrified. “And second, you’re not giving him enough credit.”
“You honestly think Cap would walk into a room, see spontaneous porn, and just...go with it?” Barton asked.
It wasn’t exactly something Tony had thought about on a general basis, but now that Barton had put it out there, Tony’s brain latched onto it and wouldn’t let go. An hypothesis had been presented, and Tony needed to test it.
Romanoff eyed him speculatively. “Well, this’ll be fun,” she drawled, pushing a plate of scrambled eggs into Tony’s hands.
In the background on the fridge screen, someone moaned, God, yes!
Experiments needed control groups and whatnot, but Tony could make exceptions. He’d had plenty of experience watching Steve take in things like MMA fights, reality television, and Fox News. The former made him smile rather uneasily, while the latter made a vein pop out along his throat. Also, Steve had a weird fixation on The Bad Girls Club.
The issue was getting Steve into an appropriate location. Tony had recently renovated the lounge with state-of-the-art sound and a high-def projector that wasn’t even available to the general public yet. So far, they’d only watched reruns of The Simpsons and Breaking Bad—both of which Steve seemed to greatly enjoy. If Walter White’s descent into post-modern villainy didn’t phase Cap, Tony highly doubted gay porn would.
The problem was getting Steve stationary for an extended period of time. Rarely did Steve loaf around without a good reason; there was always cardio or reading or varied Cap Things to be done. Tony got that Steve was a Depression kid who could never truly grasp the concept of “free time”; his dad had been the same way, although Howard never turned down free time if it involved a couple of pretty faces and a good aged bourbon.
So Tony enlisted some help in the research department.
“You...want to use me as bait?” Sam asked incredulously.
Tony huffed. “Not bait, just. Y’know.”
“Lure him in,” Sam said. “Am I being watched? Is this some kind of trap? Is Chris Hansen gonna nab my ass?”
“You’re a depraved human being,” Tony said. He knew he liked Wilson for a reason.
Sam told Steve to meet him in the lounge that afternoon to watch the new premiere of The Walking Dead. Everyone knew Wilson’s fixation on zombies, so it wasn’t a stretch at all. Steve tended to get twitchy about the logistics concerning zombie apocalypses, but he humored Sam.
Tony sat in his control room with the main screen trained on the lounge. He rarely sat here, since he had everything configured to his phone and could check any room in the tower with an app. But Pepper at one point had argued for a human security guard—bless her, sweet summer child—so Tony had obliged, thinking it would never be used for anything important.
He hadn’t planned on an impromptu experiment to explicitly need a voyeur room.
Not that he was a voyeur or anything. Tony was a scientist. There was a distinct difference.
He made sure the projector played a nondescript episode of Pawn Stars as Steve wandered into the room, dressed in sweats and a ridiculously tight shirt. Sometimes Tony was convinced Steve shrunk his shirts on purpose, or didn’t understand modern washing machine instructions. He might as well be shirtless.
“Hey, Sam. Guess I’ll just wait until you get here to start things. See you in a bit,” Steve said into his phone as he sunk into the leather couch, letting his legs splay carelessly. He sat the phone on the cushion beside him and sighed. He tipped his head back against the couch and stared up at the screen in front of him.
Tony had never thought of Steve as...loose whenever he was alone. His shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth softened. He slung an arm behind his head, draped it over the back of the couch his body stretched out, long careless. His right hand scratched absently over his stomach and played with the tie on his sweat pants. Steve sighed again, long and deep.
Well. It wasn’t as if Steve never struck a fine pose; Tony wasn’t dead.
He typed a few commands into his laptop, and the screen in front of Steve flickered for a moment.
Pawn Stars disappeared, replaced by a Sean Cody production. The video played from the very beginning—the guys weren’t even naked yet.
Steve sat up a little straighter. He frowned. Tony could hear him murmur, “Um…?”
On screen, a tall, buff blond guy named Hayden grinned at his shorter, more wiry male partner (Tanner) and said, “I heard you love to suck cock.”
Steve’s eyes went wide. “Um??” He looked quickly around the room.
Tanner raised up on tiptoes and bit at Hayden’s mouth. “I love big, fat cocks, which I heard you’ve got in spades.”
Jesus, where did these guys come up with this fucking dialogue? Tony remembered why he watched this shit on mute.
Steve, meanwhile...just stared. He didn’t get up and leave the room in a huff. He didn’t roll his eyes and search for a remote. He just stared at the screen, motionless.
Pink color gradually spread up his neck and over his cheeks.
Tony sat back in his chair. Huh. This was different. He expected indifference, not...interest.
As Tanner and Hayden tumbled onto the bed, Steve swallowed and shifted slightly against the couch. His mouth parted a fraction when Hayden stripped Tanner’s jeans off and palmed him through his tight briefs.
“Like that?” Hayden asked, and Tanner whined, “Fuck yeah, I do.”
Steve pursed his lips tightly, but still didn’t move. He stayed in one spot when Tanner was fully naked and Hayden sucked Tanner’s cock into his mouth in one take. He also didn’t budge when Hayden flipped Tanner over and licked at his ass.
Tony felt pretty damn smug. He was totally gonna prove Barton wrong, and he’d have video to prove it.
But what he didn’t expect was for Steve to abruptly grab his phone and make a call.
“Sam, it’s me,” Steve said. His voice sounded deeper than it had fifteen minutes ago. “I’m guessing you got caught up in something, so I’m going to call it a day. We’ll catch up on the episodes tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, then got to his feet, heading for the door like an intense rim job wasn’t happening on the screen behind him.
Yep, Tony was going to win big.
Except...except Steve didn’t open the door. He pressed a hand against it, blew out a breath—
—and turned the lock.
Tony nearly fell out of his chair. Holy shit.
No way. This wasn’t—Cap couldn’t possibly be doing what Tony thought he was doing. There was being indifferent, and then there was being into it.
Tony watched as Steve walked calmly back to the couch and calmly sat back down in his previously sprawl, only this time he spread his legs a little wider. Tony switched to a different camera angle, one pointed at Steve head on.
Steve was hard. There was no mistaking the bulge tenting the front of his sweats.
As Tanner moaned on screen, Steve licked over his bottom lip and pushed his t-shirt up his stomach, until it was bunched up around his chest. He licked his mouth again, and with his right hand he reached up and pinched his left nipple.
Tony exhaled. Loudly.
Hayden said, “Baby, I’m gonna fuck this sweet ass of yours. You want me to fuck you?”
Tanner groaned, “Please, please fuck me, God, need it.”
With his free hand, Steve pulled his dick out of his sweat pants and thumbed the head. He made a tiny, tiny sound that could almost be called a moan.
Tony felt like he was going crazy. The angle of the camera gave the illusion of Steve staring straight at him, dark blue eyes framed by impossible long lashes that skimmed over his flushed cheeks each time he pulled hard on his cock. His pants slipped down his hips, exposing his balls, and fuck, Cap really was big all over.
The on-screen fucking started in earnest, and Steve’s hand sped up. He apparently liked short, economical strokes that twisted slightly on the upturn, hips following the motion of his hand. He constantly touched his nipples, arched his neck as his eyes fluttered closed. The light from the screen flickered across Steve, traced the dips and valleys of his perfect body. He looked wanton, obscene, pornographic.
Tony couldn’t stand it. He tore into his own jeans and got a shaking hand around himself. Like a goddamn teenager, he was already wet at the head, thick and ready to go.
It’d been awhile since he’d gotten laid.
On the monitor in front of him, Steve kicked his sweat pants off—oh shit, he’d been going commando—and braced his feet on the coffee table in front of him. The position spread his legs wider, and Tony was given a devastating view of Steve’s ass. Steve slid one finger down behind his balls, gasping as Hayden, in porno land, fucked Tanner hard and fast.
Tony could see it. He could see himself sinking into that lush, amazing ass that had haunted too many of his darkest fantasies. He could hear Steve begging him to let him come, to fuck him deeper, Please, Tony, I need it—
Tony’s voice cracked as he came in a mess all over his hand, staining his jeans. His thighs were shaking. He blinked breathlessly at the come splattered everywhere, blood roaring in his ears.
On the monitor, he heard something that wasn’t porn.
He heard his own name gasped out loud.
Then Steve was spurting onto his leg, the come shiny in the lights from the screen in front of him. He whined softly, but didn’t let go of his cock for several long, drawn-out moments. His chest was heaving, splotchy red. He dropped his head back against the couch, eyes all heavy and sated.
On screen, Hayden pulled out, stripped the condom off, and came all over Tanner.
Tony turned the monitor off with his clean hand.
“How’d that experiment go?” Barton asked a few days later.
Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “Inconclusive,” he said.
He felt dirty now. Worse, he was constantly horny. The image of Steve naked and splayed over the couch with his thick cock in his hand just wouldn’t leave Tony alone.
It was becoming a problem.
He avoided Steve for a week, until eventually Steve cornered him in his workshop.
“Is something wrong?” Steve asked.
Tony kept his head down, elbows-deep in an engine block of a ‘67 Mustang. “Sometimes I fucking hate Ford and everything they stand for. Why?”
Steve walked around the table, tapped one finger against the engine. Tony remembered those fingers doing filthy things. “You’ve been really twitchy around me lately.”
“Yeah? I don’t know. Trying to cut back on caffeine.”
In his peripheral vision, Tony could see Steve coming closer. He stopped just shy of brushing Tony’s elbow.
“We need to talk about it at some point,” Steve said quietly.
Tony dropped his wench with a bang. “What?”
Steve sighed. “I’m not upset. Obviously. If I had been, you would know by now.”
“I...don’t follow.” His heart frantically tried to claw its way out of Tony’s chest.
“Tony…” Steve ducked his head, and his mouth was right there, breath hot against Tony’s temple. “I know it was you,” he whispered.
“I…” He tried to back away, but Steve grabbed his arm, held him in a gentle but firm grip.
“I knew about your...test. Clint told me. I didn’t think you’d involve Sam, but that was well-played.”
Tony’s cheeks burned. “Steve—”
“That whole time, I knew you were watching. And you were, weren’t you? You wouldn’t be so desperate to get away from me if you hadn’t.”
Tony shut his eyes. “I didn’t—think you’d be like that,” he said roughly.
“So...so goddamn erotic.”
The corner of Steve’s mouth turned up. “That’s never been a word I’d use to describe myself, but thank you.”
Tony wanted to die. “I’m sorry, Cap. It won’t happen again.”
The world tilted completely. “Why...not?”
Steve pressed closer, until Tony could count every single beautiful long lash that framed his—quickly darkening—eyes. “I haven’t felt that alive in ages,” he breathed, gaze flicking down to Tony’s mouth. “I kept picturing your hands on me, doing the things those guys in the video were doing. The one on the bottom was very, uh. Vocal. I can relate.”
Tony’s stomach swooped with one perfect rush of hot, molten want. “You’re telling me Captain America’s mouthy in bed?” he asked, and finally let his hands slide up Steve’s chest, over the pounding of his heart.
Steve grinned, and it was sweet and filthy and full of promises. Tony’s chest grew tight. “I could be. You should form another hypothesis and test it out.”
Tony groaned and yanked Steve’s mouth to his.
Fuck science, it could wait for another day.