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Steve’s mouth is pressed to his and it makes it hard to think. He knows he would let him do anything to him, whatever he wants, just as long as he doesn't stop now. He can never deny Steve anything. Especially not now when they are kissing and Steve wants him and Tony is getting everything he’s ever wanted in return.

It’s no wonder he didn't protest even once when Steve pushed him down on the bed before they had even so much as said “hello”. Between different villains causing trouble for both of them on opposite sides of the country there hadn't been much time to even see each other - and this thing between them is so new, so exciting, that the time apart only serves to make this even hotter, a bit desperate maybe.

And that Steve has this “slightly” possessive streak that shows every time when he gives him the chance? That turns Tony on to no end.

He doesn’t whisper anything about “making you mine” this time, - he had that first time and it had nearly undone Tony before he’d even been halfway to naked - but he doesn’t have to with how he traces the words into his skin with his lips and the fingers that are already sneaking beneath his shirt. A shudder goes through him, when Steve’s mouth finds the sensitive spot on his throat behind his ear and sucks, letting him feel the slightest prick of teeth, and he throws his head back, arcs up into the touch. “Tony,” Steve whispers and it has no right at all to be this sexy.

But then Steve grabs hold of him, pulls him down the bed towards himself with his incredible strength, and then grabs for his shirt, arm muscles ready to just rip it apart. And Tony knows that’s going to happen. Has happened before. Apparently Steve has a thing for that and it’s… wow. But the exact moment his futurist brain tells him where this is going he has a hand on Steve’s chest pushing him back, and he’s out of the bed and is a safe distance across the room before he has even made a decision about it.

Steve looks startled, turns to sit on the corner of the bed to stare at him with just the slightest hint of a frown. “Did I…?”

“No!” Tony says vehemently, because Steve didn’t do anything wrong exactly, but... “You already ripped two of my best shirts, Mister.” He wishes he wouldn’t sound so pathetic, because his cheeks are warming up realizing how this must be looking to Steve.

Blue eyes blink at him, before Steve starts to grin. “This is about the shirt?”

“It’s my favorite shirt,” Tony stresses and narrows his eyes, daring Steve to laugh at him.

Steve doesn't right out laugh at him. But he continues grinning and Tony feels even more ridiculous about it all. “Okay,” he says. “No ripping your favorite shirt, got it. Interesting boundaries, I have to say. But I guess I knew what I was getting into.” He slowly gets up from the bed to make a few steps towards Tony, opening his arms wide to offer a hug. Tony makes a sudden unconscious step back at the motion, his arms wrapping protectively around himself. When he realizes what he’s doing he’s mortified to feel his cheeks heating up.

Steve tries to stifle a laugh. “This is not… about the RT or your feeling self-conscious, is it? Because I already saw you naked a couple of times and you have nothing to hide, Mr. Stark.” He leans slightly forward and whispers in a conspiratorial tone: “I figured out you’re Iron Man a while back. So whatever that shirt is hiding these days, you won’t give your secret identity away, Iron Man. I promise I’ll guard your secret with my life.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but faced with Steve’s playful mood he has to chuckle, too. “I know I can trust you, Cap. With my identity. Not my shirt.”

“Smart, but I’ll not rip the shirt, promise.” He smiles and finally encircles Tony in a hug and Tony leans his head against Steve’s shoulder, feeling utterly silly, but glad. “Not this one,” Steve adds like an afterthought.

“Thank you,” he says, amused at the way that Steve’s finger are already busy with opening his shirt buttons. Carefully one by one this time.

“You were wearing a red thong, red just like this shirt, when I first figured you out, you know,” Steve says, still playful.

“Trust you to remember that.”

They were moving back towards the bed already, Tony’s favorite shirt falling to the floor beside them unharmed.

“It wasn’t red like the shirt though, Steve. It was super fiery Ferrari red. And you didn't figure me out, you got lucky that someone else got me out of my metal clothes.”

Steve chuckled. “If you say so. Are you wearing one now? A red thong? And if you are – is it a favorite? Because I'd like...”

“Okay, I feel that someone should have warned me that you're a menace, Captain America. Are you on a mission to make me change my wardrobe?” He pulls Steve with him as he falls back onto the mattress of the bed and kisses him, because he really doesn't mind that Steve seems to have this thing for ripping fabric off him.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not if you get rid of that ridiculous Captain America t-shirt right now.”

“I'll have you know it's a favorite,” Steve says and laughs, coming to lie beside him on the mattress, his lips finding his way back to Tony's throat, picking up where he left of.

“Still, I think I like you better without it.”

“You only had to ask.”

Another shirt lands on the floor and Tony has a hard time figuring out whose lips find whose first. It's hard to think again. And as naked skin touches naked skin, he has no thought left for shirts and arguments and banter, anyway.

There's only Steve.

And, god, he's so good.