Tony's hand slipped on the tiled wall, water making it difficult to support both his weight and Steve's as he crashed into him. He smacked his forehead and blinked at the sharp spot of pain that bloomed above his eyebrow.
"Watch it, will you," he grunted, "it's not like I need any more injuries today."
Steve's hands grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, Tony's back now hitting the wall with a wet slap. "Why aren't you in hospital?" he growled.
Okay, so Steve was angry. His eyes flew to the cut on his forehead and his eyes narrowed even more. "You're supposed to keep it dry," he said.
Tony rolled his eyes. "It's fine," he said. "And it's not like I was going to be sweaty and gross because of a small cut. Have you any idea how hot it gets in the armor? I lose half my weight in sweat every time I put it on."
"Yes, and that brings us to the next topic," Steve continued. "Why did you take the call without waiting for us?"
Tony tried pushing off the wall, but Steve's grip on his upper arms was like steel. He relaxed and leaned back with a sigh. If Captain America could handle a naked, wet Tony Stark just out of the shower, so could he. "It was nothing much," he said, "I handled it fine by myself."
"Being knocked into a building isn't 'handling it fine'," Steve retorted.
"You saw that?" Tony grimaced.
"It was all over the news," Steve replied. "That's why I came straight here."
And the house had let him in. Tony needed to have a long chat with JARVIS. "Was it NBC or FOX? Because FOX never gets my good side," he said. Steve's hand tightened his grip. "Look, I'm naked and dripping all over your nice clothes," he sighed, "why don't you let me get dressed and we can continue the manhandling when I'm not freezing my ass against the wall?"
Steve's frown didn't disappear, though, and if his hands gripped his arms a little tighter Tony was going to have blood flow troubles.
"Let me go," Tony said in a low voice. "I need my hands. For science."
"You're not talking your way out of this," Steve growled.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Now, why would I ever want to do that?" he said. "I just want to put some clothes on, I've been told it's polite in social situations." Well, the boring ones. Tony's favorite social situations required no clothes at all. He smirked and looked up at Steve with half-lidded eyes. "Unless you'd rather I didn't."
Steve's right eye twitched, and he shot a glance downwards, taking in Tony's still-wet nakedness. He'd stormed into Tony's bathroom before he'd gotten a chance to towel himself dry.
"Oh, so that's what's this about, then?" Tony grinned, leaning back against the tiles and relaxing as much as he could with Steve still crowding him. He raised a hand and trailed his fingers down Steve chest. When he brushed against a nipple, he felt Steve shiver slightly. "I thought the other day was only a one-time thing brought on by drunkenness."
"You were drunk," Steve said, his eyes shot down again, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Tony was getting hard, despite the chilly air in the room. "I wasn't."
"Touch-mmpff," he finished in a moan. It was kind of hard to speak when your mouth was full of Captain America's tongue.
The kiss didn't last long, as one of Steve's hands went to the back of his neck and turned him around. For the second time in less than five minutes, Tony found himself slammed against the wall. The arc reactor clinked against the tiles, as his hands tried to find some semblance of support.
"This would be easier on a flat surface," he grunted, as Steve pressed fully against him, the hand that wasn't busy keeping him in position trailing down to palm his growing erection.
"The wall is a flat surface," Steve replied, and Tony could feel just how hard he was, even through the jeans.
Jesus. Steve had been holding out on him, it seemed. "I meant horizont- oh, fuck!" he groaned as Steve's hand around him tightened and stroked a couple of times. "Okay, the wall is good. The wall is perfect."
"Don't ever, ever do that again," Steve muttered against his neck, before biting down lightly on the skin below his ear, the motions of his hips pressing them even closer.
"Hey, no biting where it shows!" he protested, elbowing Steve. "I have a Board meeting tomorrow, and a press conference."
Steve didn't seem deterred in the least, though, and he just trailed his teeth lower, until he was sucking on his left shoulder. The hand on his dick sped up, and Tony was beginning to think he might have slipped in the Twilight Zone. Steve hadn't been this... eager the last time.
Sure, everyone likes a blow job, and Steve's fingers had left bruises on his neck and shoulders, but he had been nothing like this.
If all it took for this Steve to show up was a crazy guy with superstrength pummeling him through a few walls, the City Council was in for a budget redistribution.
"Fuck- Jesus Christ, Rogers!" Tony was moaning openly now, his cheek pressed against the cold tiles, his eyes trying to blink the sweat and water away. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about this."
"What did you think, then?" Steve panted against him. The hand that wasn't busy giving Tony the hand job of the year went around Tony's hips and tugged him backwards, away from the wall.
Okay, the denim was starting to itch against the back of his thighs. The jeans had to go.
"Did you think I would just forget about it?" Steve grunted.
"I'm sure one-night stands existed in the Forties, too," Tony replied. "Or maybe they just weren't your thing, Captain?"
"Shut up. Don't you ever shut up?"
Steve's hand left his hips and worked its way between their bodies. There was the rustle of clothes and then the clinking of metal as Steve undid his belt. The hand on his dick didn't slow down even for a second.
You had to love those multitasking skills.
Steve pulled him away from the wall and turned him around. The instant they were face to face, Tony surged forward and attacked his lips, his right hand batting away Steve's and taking care of the zipper until Tony finally managed to wrap his hand around Steve.
Steve pressed them together, so that their cocks were aligned, their hands bumping together, the strokes becoming irregular.
"We're teammates," Steve said, tilting Tony's head with a hand at the back of his neck. "Having one-night stands with your comrades is never a good idea."
"So is having relationships with them," Tony retorted, then he smirked up at him. "I won't tell if you don't. This can be our two-nights stand."
"It's not night yet," Steve said, biting down on Tony's lower lip and then pushing inside again.
"But we're standing," Tony gasped, as they parted. He let go of Steve's erection, ignoring his groan of protest, and he took Steve's face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"
Steve glanced down at his hand still on Tony's dick. He gave a light squeeze and Tony had to blink to make his eyes focus again. "I thought you'd be the last person I'd have to explain that to," Steve said.
"Fuck," Tony moaned softly. "I didn't think you'd be one for casual sex."
"I'm not," Steve replied, narrowing his eyes at him. "I've been told it's a twenty-first century custom."
For once Tony was the one shoving Steve back, but he suspected he only managed it because the man had let him. This was confirmed as Steve grabbed his wrist and turned him around, Tony's back against his chest, and he started walking them towards the bedroom.
"Hey, what happened to sex against the wall?" Tony said, but his protests were half-hearted at best.
"No lube in the bathroom," Steve replied.
"And yet you seem so sure I have some in my bedroom," Tony said.
Steve stopped, and Tony craned his neck backwards to frown at him. Steve gave him a pointed look. "Okay," Tony admitted. "Bedroom it is."
Steve let go of him in favor of taking off his shirt. A white, I ♥ NY t-shirt. Really, who was in charge of Rogers' wardrobe? Most likely it was Steve himself, though, and that was never a good idea. He'd have to get Pepper to buy some decent clothes for the man, he obviously hadn't been around when god was handing out fashion sense to people. His uniform had little wings. No, really.
Tony crawled onto the bed and settled his back against the headboard to enjoy the show. The last - and only - time they had done this there had been no nudity. Sadly.
Actually come to think of it, they had never done 'this' yet. Tony was a man of the world and he enjoyed sex regardless, but he didn't think giving a blow job to his teammate while being so drunk he'd passed out shortly afterwards would rate as a satisfying sexual encounter.
They hadn't seen each other for days, Tony having business in New York and Steve-- well, whatever he was up to these days. So it wasn't like he'd thought there would be a repeat performance. Maybe it had been idiotic on his part to think Captain America would settle for one-night stands, or drunken blow jobs as it was, but Tony hadn't--
Suddenly there was a very naked Steve Rogers on his bed, right in front of him. It looked like he'd lost a few moments of undressing there. Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital-- memory blanks were a symptom of concussion, right?
"What's this?" Steve asked, derailing his train of thought.
Tony blinked up at him, uncomprehendingly. Then he looked down at the spot Steve was staring. On his thigh. There were four small, reddish stripes on his skin. They looked like the sort of marks fingernails would leave. The fingernails of a very enthusiastic flying attendant as it was.
Tony swallowed. "Um, about that..." he said. "You know how I said that casual sex was a twenty-fi-"
Steve's hand clamped down on his thigh and pulled. Tony bumped his head against the headboard and he fell down against the pillows with a particularly undignified 'oof'. Steve was on him in an instant, his arms firmly planted at both sides of his head.
"What is wrong with you?" Steve growled.
Tony pushed against his chest, to no avail. "Hey!" he protested. "No calls, no 'hey Tony, why don't we try the blow job thing when you're not drunk?', no nothing!"
Steve glared down at him. "You talk too much," he said. "You never think."
"Me not thinking was what got us-" he trailed off when Steve got up. "Hey, where are you going?"
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed now, tearing open one of the drawers of the bedside table. He rummaged, coming up with condoms and lube, which he tossed on the bed.
Sex was still in the plans, then. This was good. Even though Tony had the distinct impression he wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.
Steve was in the act of closing the drawer when he froze, his eyes widening at something he must have seen inside.
Oh, shit. What the hell did he keep in that drawer? There were some old specs, but Tony didn't think outdated blueprints of the armor would get that reaction out of Steve.
Steve slowly turned towards him as his hand went into the drawer and came up with-
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.
"No, see-" he swallowed. "I-"
"I see I'm not the only one complaining you talk too much," Steve said, tossing the ball gag on the bed, right next to the condoms and the lube.
Tony glared at him. "I like how you assume I don't use that on-" Steve arched an eyebrow at him and Tony shut up.
Steve shut the drawer and crawled back to him, straddling his thighs and sitting back, effectively immobilizing Tony's lower half. Not that Tony had any intentions of going anywhere anyway.
So, Captain America apparently had a secret kinky streak.
No way Tony wanted to leave at this point.
He shot a glance at the gag, lying not at all innocently barely a foot from them. He looked up at Steve and found Steve staring back at him like a very large and hungry predator would look at his dinner, his eyes wide and wild. They stayed like that for a long moment, possibly minutes, and then abruptly Steve's hand shot sideways, closing around the straps.
"Oh fuck!" Tony groaned, and he went from half-hard to painfully so in an instant. "Jesus Christ, Steve! Fuck! Fuck!"
"You swear too much," Steve grunted out, and Tony would have gladly retorted to that, but Steve was faster than him and in the blink of an eye, Tony found himself trying to swallow involuntarily around the rubber in his mouth.
Jesus Christ, the man had everyone fooled.
"Now that I have your full attention," Steve growled and leaned forward until he was almost nose to nose with him.
Tony tried to scoot back, his eyes crossing to keep Steve's features into focus but Steve's big hands prevented him, coming up to frame his face and to keep him from squirming away. Tony swallowed hard.
"I realize we may have had a minor misunderstanding," Steve continued, his low voice rising goosebumps all over Tony's skin. "but for future reference, I don't want you to sleep around on me. If you don't know where we stand you come to me first and we talk about it. Are we clear?"
Tony nodded fervently, but he would have probably agreed to swear off caffeine and alcohol for the rest of his life if it got him closer to sex now.
He'd never had to wait for so long to get to the sex part when nakedness and kinky toys were involved.
Steve's hands travelled to Tony's waist, taking a hold of it and tugging Tony towards himself so that now Steve was kneeling between his legs, Tony's thighs spread over his in a wide V. His eyes traveled all over Tony's body, taking in his erection, his heaving chest, his flushed cheeks.
Tony hummed in the back of his throat and wriggled in Steve's lap, one of his hands going to grip his cock and starting a slow, lazy rhythm. Steve stared, wide-eyed, his cheek flushing pink, as Tony touched himself.
Tony shot him a look through half-lidded eyes and sped up the pace, his other hand slipping down to cup his balls. Steve made a strangled sound and he grabbed Tony's biceps,dragging him up to a sitting position and then flipping him around.
Tony landed on his shoulder, grimacing as his bruised ribs twinged at the sudden movement. He got up on one elbow, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his hips. There was the sound of ripping and Tony craned his neck around just in time to see Steve shooting him a look and grinning. The lube trickled down between his cheeks, not quite cold; Steve pressed his thumb just behind Tony's balls to halt the flow.
Steve's index finger circled his entrance and Tony arched his back to grant him an easier access, his legs spreading even more and pressing down against the mattress. He moaned, but it came out choked around the gag, and he wished fervently that he could tell Steve to hurry the hell up.
The finger circled once more and then it pushed inside slowly, and stopped. Tony grunted and tried to push back to get more, but Steve's left hand closed around his hip and stilled him.
Steve leaned forward, his naked chest barely brushing against Tony's back. "Stay still," he growled into his ear. "I don't want to hurt you."
Tony might have been gagged, but that didn't mean that he couldn't make his thoughts on the matter known. He squirmed around and managed to get Steve's finger deeper inside; Steve grunted next to his ear and his hand clamped down on Tony's hip, actually a little too tightly.
Tony drew in a sharp breath through his nose, all he could manage with his mouth were some choked gasps.
"Tony," Steve panted, scattering kisses and small bites in equal measure along his neck.
Tony's words were unintelligible when he tried to talk, but Steve seemed to understand anyway and the tip of his middle finger joined the other already inside Tony, pushing in and making space.
Now it was starting to hurt a little, it had been a long time since he'd last done this, but in spite of that, the burn was more pleasure than pain and Tony shuddered, his fingers clawing at the mattress, desperately trying to find something to hold on. His attempts at talking had resorted in nothing but saliva pooling under his left cheek, making his face stick to the sheets.
Steve's fingers curled in him, tearing a long whine out of Tony. "We need more," he said then, drawing back, the hand on Tony's left hip releasing its hold to grab another packet of lube.
Tony took advantage of the sudden freedom to rise up to his knees, pushing back against Steve's fingers until they were all they way inside him. Tony grunted at the stretch and his head fell back to rest on Steve's shoulder, his chest heaving with each choking gasp.
Steve cried out something that sounded half-way between Tony's name and a curse and he hastily tore open the packet of lube with his teeth. "Can you take three now?" he asked, panting, "or is it too soon?"
Steve didn't wait for his reply, though, and a second later a third finger was pushing inside Tony, making his breath hitch. Tony arched and his hands scrambled to get some kind of hold on the wide shoulders, the arms, the hips. Steve's left thigh gained four parallel scratches thanks to Tony's fingernails, while Tony's other hand closed around Steve's right wrist, neither halting nor hurrying him forward.
Steve's fingers moved in him, stretching and moving in short, aborted thrusts, until Tony was left choking on air that wasn't enough. Abruptly, the fingers were withdrawn, the burning sensation making Tony's thighs tremble, and then Steve arranged him; one hand at the back of Tony's neck pushing him forward, while the other closed around Tony's hip and pulled to expose his ass better, Tony's back arching to keep the position.
There was the sound of plastic tearing and then Steve's knuckles brushed against the back of Tony's thighs, as Steve put the condom on and then guided his erection until the tip touched Tony's entrance.
Tony would have liked to tell him that maybe he wasn't quite ready yet, he'd given the guy a blow job, and while he might have been drunk at the time, he certainly remembered how... impressive Steve was, and it had been so long since Tony had been-
Tony stumbled forward and caught himself on his elbows before he could fall on his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get more air in his lungs, but with the gag in his mouth, he could only breathe through his nose.
Steve didn't seem to be hindered at all, though, and he pushed forward a little more, keeping Tony's hips still. "Does it hurt?" he asked, knowing that Tony couldn't reply and that it did in fact hurt. Not that Tony wanted him to stop, it was the kind of pain that bloomed for a second and then became burning pleasure through all his nerve endings, reducing him to a panting, shivering mess. "Do you want me to stop?"
No, Tony didn't want him to stop.
Tony might resort to killing him, if he decided to stop. That was how much Tony didn't want him to stop, but he could say those things. He just swallowed as best as he could and grunted, pushing back, Steve's cock slipping inside him a little further.
"I'll take that as a no," Steve said, and then he slid in, inch by inch, in a long, slow thrust that seemed to take forever. Tony gave a long, keening moan that was only partially muffled by the gag, and his pants increased in intensity as Steve drew slowly back and then slammed back into him.
It went on like that for a couple of more thrusts, until Tony was bent forward, his arms straining with the effort of supporting him against the headboard. He tried to keep up and meet each snap of Steve's hips, but he faltered and fell out of rhythm more often than not.
His pants were starting to sound more and more like sobs, his chest heaving, his lungs trying to take in as much as air as they could.
"I think it's been enough," Steve said, then.
Steve's fingers scratched at the catch and suddenly the straps went loose, the ball falling from Tony's mouth into Steve's hand, a tendril of saliva the only thing tying them together. Steve tossed the gag away and then he brought up his hand, threading his fingers through Tony's hair, stroking it backwards.
Steve dragged him up and Tony turned his head to meet him halfway, his lips feeling stretched and numb from wearing the gag. Steve kissed him gently, running his tongue over his bottom lip and along his. Tony's pants were still quick and erratic, but he gave a long, soft moan when Steve run a hand down his chest. He pinched a nipple and then dragged his fingernails down his stomach until his hand closed around Tony's erection.
Tony moaned into his mouth as Steve slowly started to stoke him, the quiet pace in contrast with their wild rhythm of just a few moments before. "Is this okay?" Steve asked, his eyes flickering up to meet his for a second and then going back to stare at Tony's mouth.
Tony gasped and closed his eyes, his hand joining Steve's around himself. "For an alleged military genius," he said, "you sure ask some stupid questions sometimes, Rogers." He moved his hips backwards, causing Steve to groan and his hand to squeeze slightly around Tony. "Yes, this is okay. More than okay, in fact. It's fucking great," he said. "Maybe I should let people slam me into buildings more often."
In hindsight, that might have been the wrong thing to say.
Steve slipped out of him and Tony was abruptly spun around and pushed down on his back. Steve took hold of his left calf, while he guided himself back inside Tony with the other. He pushed in all the way in one thrust, skipping the slow slide this time; Tony's back arched off bed and for a moment he was absolutely convinced it was going to snap in two.
Steve was glaring down at him. "Don't make me gag you again," he growled.
Tony wisely decided that a few sarcastic remarks weren't really worth jeopardizing sex with Steve over, so he said nothing. He just hooked his right leg over Steve's shoulder and arched his back, giving Steve as much access as he could.
Steve stared down at him for a moment, then his eyes widened and he surged forward, his hands flying up to grab Tony's wrists, his mouth colliding with his. Tony yelped at the sudden movement, twisting his wrists to test the grip of Steve's hands.
The kiss was getting out of hand, becoming a mess of tongues and lips and teeth. Tony was moaning loudly and each sound he made was followed by an answering grunt from Steve. His hips moved in desperate, aborted thrusts; there wasn't enough leverage to do more than that.
Steve broke off with a groan and his hands came up to frame Tony's face.
"What the hell was that?" Tony panted, trying to spread his legs further to allow Steve all the access he could.
Steve threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, grabbing a handful and tugging his head backwards, exposing Tony's neck. He dropped a few bites and then sucked on a patch of skin right under Tony's jaw.
"Tony," Steve muttered, his breath hitching, and then it became a growl. "Tony."
"Fuck," Tony swallowed with a choked voice. Fuck the hickey where they showed, it wasn't like his Board wasn't used to it. "Just fuck me, Rogers. Just-"
Let it not be said that Steve Rogers wasn't good at following orders. He abruptly drew back, his hands flying to Tony's waist, while his hips gave a sharp, powerful thrust that lifted him right off the bed.
Tony cried out, the sound turning into a keening wail when Steve hit his prostate, and his gasps became louder and louder with each thrust. Steve didn't seem to have the intention of stopping any time soon, and Tony couldn't quite keep up with the fast, wild rhythm that he'd set; all he was able to do was arching off the bed and taking it, his shoulders and the back of his neck the only support he had.
Steve leaned forward, folding him in two, his mouth looking for Tony's, his teeth nipping and biting. And then his hand closed around Tony's cock and he stroked once, twice and then Tony lost it.
He came with a sob, maybe crying out Steve's name, maybe swearing, falling back against the pillows, completely coming apart. He let himself be turned around, a pillow was shoved under his hips and then Steve was inside him again, his arms coming around Tony's shoulders and keeping him firmly in place.
It wasn't like Tony wanted to go anywhere, even if he could. He just raised his hips and tried to meet Steve's thrusts, but it was turning out to be rather difficult. Steve made it easier for him; one of his hands going for the back of his neck, his fingers buried in Tony's hair, pressing him down and pinning him there, as his other hand closing tightly on Tony's hip, keeping him still as he picked up the pace.
Forget walking, Tony wouldn't be able to stand in the morning.
He was completely spent, but Steve continued hitting his prostate every time he pushed inside him, and it left Tony with nothing to do but gasp softly and claw at the sheets.
"Goddammit, Tony," Steve grunted and Tony gave a particularly loud moan in reply, and then Steve was falling down on him, catching himself at the last moment, leaning his weight on the elbow planted next to Tony's head.
He stayed like that for a few moments, panting next to Tony's ear, Steve's chest brushing against his shoulder blades with every intake of breath.
"That," Tony croaked, "was great." Steve let out a surprised and breathless laugh. "Magnificent even."
Steve drew back, slipping out of him and lying down next to him. He took off the condom with a grimace and tossed it on the floor. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Tony sighed and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he replied. "I have no intention of moving. Ever again."
But he was also in dire need of a drink. The bottle of Scotch was calling him from the living room downstais; he could hear its silky, smoky voice.
Tony cut him off before he could go any further. "If the next words out of your mouth are 'need to talk' or a variation thereof, I'm calling Pepper to kick you out of here."
Steve frowned, but most of his anger seemed to have left him now. There was nothing like sex to relieve some tension. "Don't think I'll forget," he said, after a moment.
Tony snorted. "God forbid I should deny you your pillow talk," he muttered. "Just make sure I'm not awake for it."
Steve's hand stroked down his back, over his buttocks. A moment later, a finger shyly probed at his entrance; when the tip slid inside, Tony drew in a sharp breath.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked, with a concerned frown. Tony grunted in reply, and Steve looked away in embarrassment. "Sorry, I got... carried away. Did I hurt you?"
"Mmm no, I'm fine," Tony mumbled, "just a little sore."
Steve nodded and slipped out of him, grabbing his hip and turning him on his side, so that Tony could comfortably lean his head on Steve's shoulder. "Steve Rogers, a cuddler," he snorted. "Who would've thought?"
Steve poked him in the ribs, making him squirm. "Shut up," he said, but Tony could feel him smiling where Steve's mouth brushed against his forehead.
Tony was getting cold, so he scooted closer to Steve's side, and when he looked down there were four small finger-shaped bruises forming on his hip. The scratches left from the flying attendant were practically invisible in comparison.
"Welcome to the twenty-first century, then," Tony said after a moment. "How's it treating you?"
Steve chuckled. "So far, so good," he replied.
Tony hummed in approval. "Great," he said. "What's your stance on morning sex?"
"I thought you wanted to kick me out of here," Steve said, drawing the covers over them. "Or maybe you're just going to wander away drunkenly and completely forget about this?"
"I said I would call Pepper to do that. I'm not kicking Captain America out of my bed," Tony replied and then he went on, frowning, "and I didn't forget. I thought you were drunk and you had."
Steve was silent for so long that Tony honestly thought the conversation was over, and he was comfortably settled against Steve's side, already half-asleep. "Tony," Steve broke the silence then, "I get up at six in the morning."
Tony groaned into Steve's neck. "Fuck you."
Steve chuckled. "We'll see about that."