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Being Stubborn

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September

“Just find the cube,” Steve retorts sharply and, with one last holier-than-thou glance at Tony and a displeased twitch of his mouth, storms out of the lab.

And Tony doesn’t even really have to think about it, takes less than a second to consider before he follows, ignoring Bruce calling after him and what remains of his rationality screaming at him to allow both himself and Steve a moment to reflect and calm down.

Tony is no stranger to people disliking him on sight, hating him with or without reason, but with Steve it’s different. There’s something about Steve, an invisible pull that draws Tony in, makes it impossible for Tony to take the easy way out.

He craves the confrontations with Steve, looks forward to them with an almost perverse glee, his head heavy and foggy with want. Tony wants, he needs. Wants it from Steve, needs it from Steve.

Whatever it is. Tony isn’t sure yet, but he’s determined to find out, no matter what. No backing down.

They’re in the corridor with the guest quarters when Tony eventually catches up with Steve, reaching out for Steve’s shoulder only to have his hand smacked away again the instant it makes contact, Steve whirling around to glare at him.

“Don’t touch me,” Steve growls, low and deep and all Alpha, sending anticipatory shivers down Tony’s spine. Then, immediately contradicting his own wishes, Steve crowds right into Tony’s personal space, teeth bared in a half-snarl and pupils blown wide. “Don’t touch me, don’t.”

Tony sneers at him, refusing to be intimidated by the aggressive posturing. “Or what?” he challenges mockingly, firmly planting both his hands on Steve’s chest, ready to shove if violence is what it comes down to.

The air is heavy with their flaring scents, anger and determination and lust all mixed together into a heady cocktail, the tension hanging between them thick, nearly palpable. It’s impossible to tell who moves first, Tony’s fingers finding the zipper of Steve’s uniform pants just as one of Steve’s hands grabs Tony by the back of the neck to tilt Tony’s head back and give Steve access to Tony’s throat.

And then Tony is walked back toward the first unoccupied room, guided by Steve’s arm wound tightly around his waist, Steve’s mouth, hot and wet, sucking bruises into the skin under Tony’s jaw, high enough to be visible, to mark.

Tony doesn’t protest, encourages Steve with an impatient whine, barely hearing the door slam shut behind them before he finds himself sprawled out on cheap, military-issue sheets, panting and feeling oddly bereft with Steve still standing at the foot of the bed.

“Get naked,” Steve orders, no-nonsense and without prelude, and starts pulling at his own clothes.

Tony considers disobeying for the sake of it, being defiant and high maintenance and making Steve work for it, but then Steve drops his pants and steps out of his boots, putting his cock, gorgeous and hard and leaking, on full display, and Tony scrambles to follow suit.

There’s no lube, but after a somewhat hectic search of the bedside table, Tony comes up with some hand lotion that looks like it probably won’t poison him. “Here,” he says, the word morphing into a moan halfway through when Steve decides to swallow him down without warning. “Fuck. Here, Steve, c’mon, here.”

Steve loses no time taking the proffered tube and sinking a finger into Tony, waiting for Tony to get used to that first intrusion before he begins to slowly move his finger in and out of Tony. A second finger quickly joins the first, stretching Tony just enough for a third to be added.

“Steve,” Tony gasps at the double sensation of Steve’s fingers inside him and Steve’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock. “More. Gimme more.”

Tony fully expects to be flipped onto his belly and urged up onto his knees, the closest imitation of presenting he’s capable of outside of heat, but is pleasantly surprised when Steve makes no move to do so. Instead, Steve hooks Tony’s legs around his waist and takes a hold of Tony’s wrists with one hand, pinning them above Tony’s head, using his free hand to slick himself up and guide himself into Tony in one smooth thrust.

It stings, Steve is bigger than average and has prepared Tony no more than absolutely necessary, but Tony revels the burn, the pleasure-pain sensation, arching his back to urge Steve even deeper and moaning wantonly when Steve slides in another half-inch.

They waste no time after that. Steve sets up a rhythm, his pace hard and unforgiving, selfishly chasing his own relief with no regard for Tony, going as far as to change the angle of his thrusts when he accidentally hits Tony’s prostate and makes Tony cry out with it.

He wants Tony to beg, has Tony pinned and unable to get off unless he complies. Tony doesn’t give him the satisfaction, stays stubbornly silent and holds back the tiny, needy mewling sounds he can feel at the back of his throat, wriggles underneath Steve in an attempt to break his concentration, bites Steve's shoulder and-

Steve comes with a quiet sigh, spilling himself into Tony but not slowing down.

“What,” is as far as Tony gets, then Steve ups the tempo and curls a hand around Tony’s neglected cock, matching the movement of his hips.

The instant Steve scrapes his teeth over Tony’s bonding gland, light and carefully teasing, Tony’s gone, toppling over the edge with a hoarse shout and his fingers scratching at the hand Steve has still clamped over his wrists.

Steve follows him a moment later, filling Tony even more as he breathes his second orgasm against Tony’s neck.

“Shit,” Tony slurs dazedly, twitching and giving a groan of protest when Steve slips out of him and already cooling come trickles down between his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs softly, stretching out next to Tony and drawing Tony in, surrounding him.

With a contented little hum, Tony throws a leg over Steve’s waist and tucks his face against Steve’s throat, moaning helplessly when curios fingers probe at his sensitive entrance, possessively pushing some of the come back into him.

Steve’s nose is in Tony’s hair, and Tony is mouthing at Steve’s sweaty skin, seeking out the areas where Steve’s scent is strongest, the most prominent, feeling himself turn boneless and pliant, breathing in the smell of sex and Alpha pheromones, breathing in Steve-

“Get off,” Tony barks and pushes at Steve, his heart racing and panic starting to creep into the back of his mind once his arousal has flagged enough for his head to clear and make him realise that he’s scenting Steve. “Get the fuck off. Move!”

For a heartbeat, there’s an expression of hurt, open and vulnerable, on Steve’s face, but it vanishes with a shake of Steve’s head, replaced with something hard and unreadable that has Tony swallow back a disappointed whine.

Steve doesn’t spare Tony a single look while he dresses, and leaves without so much as a backward glance.

Embarrassingly enough, the cold reaction to his own rejection makes tears spring to Tony’s eyes.

“What the fuck,” he mutters to himself, sniffling and wiping a hand over his face. “What the actual fuck.”

***

Tony rejoins Bruce in the lab, jaw clenched and shoulders hunched, which seems to be enough for Bruce not ask what’s happened or how he’s doing, even though Tony can smell the concern and confusion on him.

Steve finds SHIELD’s Tesseract weapons and everyone starts yelling. Parts of the Helicarrier explode, they fix them, the Hulk gets lost but Hawkeye returns, Coulson dies, the team comes together to fight big-ass alien centipedes, Tony nearly dies, again, they arrest Loki and go out for shwarma.

They debrief with Fury, Tony, on a whim, invites Steve back to the tower and Steve agrees, which is where they are now, awkwardly standing among the rubble of the Hulk’s play date with Loki and not quite meeting each other’s eyes.

“Screw this,” Tony sighs eventually, never one to be patient, even in the face of the unknown. He turns and heads toward his bedroom, stripping out of his shirt as he goes and throwing a meant to be casual but actually more hopeful, “You coming?” over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve eats him out until Tony is little more than a shivering, cursing mess, then fucks him hard and deep and so, so good, coming twice this time around before he pulls out, slides down Tony’s body and proceeds to suck Tony off nice and slow.

Obviously having learned from earlier, Steve leaves some distance between them on the bed, flopping down on his stomach and burying his face in one of Tony’s many pillows, left hand stretched out in Tony’s direction as an offer.

Tony waits until Steve has dropped off to sleep before curling into Steve’s side and tucking Steve’s arm around himself. When he wakes up the next morning, Steve is gone.

It shouldn’t upset Tony as much as it does.

He ignores the hollowness in his chest and goes to take a much needed shower, and if he thinks about Steve’s cock inside him while he jerks off, well, that’s no one’s business but his own.

The whole team assembles later that day to send Loki and Thor off back to Magic Viking Land. Bruce tentatively agrees to stay at the tower, for a while at least. Natasha and Clint head back to SHIELD or wherever it is that spies go when they’re not doing spy things.

And Steve. Steve shakes Tony’s hand and leaves. To go find himself, or something like that. Away. Somewhere that isn’t here.

Tony forces a smile and tells him to have fun.