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Skipping the Pleasantries

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Steve got back at around ten. Tony knew, because he’d left JARVIS with strict instructions to tell him the moment Steve walked through the door, regardless of where he was or what he was doing.

However, at around ten, Tony was part-way through a morning meeting with his company’s investors, and his best puppy-dog eyes no longer worked on Pepper. Her glare made it very clear that she wasn’t going to let him go until this meeting was done. Then she took him straight to his lunch with the stockholders. And even when he sat through it on his best behaviour, she wouldn’t let Happy drive him anywhere other than SHIELD’s New York HQ to brief Fury on all the things he and Bruce had been working on over the past few weeks.

Or, as Tony liked to think of it, all the things they had been working on while Steve was away.

Of course, Tony got it – he knew why Steve had to go out and do the Captain America thing. Someone needed to go and reassure everybody that, yes, the Avengers were being led by a sound, responsible adult; yes, he could definitely keep all the loose cannons in line; and no, Tony Stark was not going to cause any problems on Captain America’s watch, thank you.

Steve was good at that kind of thing. Tony, on the other hand, was good at locking himself in his lab and fiddling with things until they worked or blew up in his face. He wasn’t so great with dealing with people, or with dumbass questions, or, historically, with publicity in general. It made sense for Tony to stay in New York and do his thing, and for Steve to go off all over the place doing his thing.

Except that it sucked.

He missed Steve. It was ridiculous, since ‘commitment-phobic’ was high on the list of adjectives he mentally used to describe himself – but the longer Steve wasn’t actually there, the worse it got. More than once, he found himself awake in the middle of the night, Steve’s contact details on his phone screen and his thumb hovering over the call button.

Steve, though – Steve seemed to be doing just fine without him. He was apparently having a ball without Tony, from the enthusiastic descriptions of press conferences and parties that Tony got over the phone. When Steve actually called. There were reasons. He was busy, he got back really late, the time difference between the east and west coasts made it difficult to coordinate a good time. But they always felt more like excuses, which he knew was just in his head but he couldn’t seem to shake the paranoia that Steve might not actually want to talk to him. The day Tony found himself actually considering that Steve – Steve, for goodness sake – might be fooling around with someone else on the trip, he stopped asking why he didn’t call.

Mostly, for the past three weeks and four days he had felt like he had fallen into some bizarre parallel dimension where he was actually kind of pathetic, pining away after Steve in exactly the way he hated in other people.

So by the time Tony did eventually get home – at six o’clock, Pepper was a slave-driver – he was a little desperate.

“JARVIS,” he snapped the moment he was through the door. “Where is he?”

“Captain Rogers is in the kitchen, sir,” JARVIS replied, an air of disapproval creeping into his voice as Tony threw his coat over the end of the banister instead of hanging it in the closet.

Tony strode down the hall and into the kitchen as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. He might know he was pathetic, but he didn’t have to broadcast it to the rest of the world. Thankfully, Steve was alone, standing by the coffee machine. He turned as Tony walked in, his smile soft and warm as he held out a mug.

“Hey. I thought you might want this.”

Tony stopped in the doorway just to look at him. The feeling in his chest was borderline painful, like something was twisting the arc reactor, like his heart was trying to push the metal casing out. He was horribly aware that he was breathing heavily, and probably looked like a crazy person, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care as Steve’s smile broadened a little.

“Tony?” he murmured. “You with me?”

He looked at the mug. Steve had made him coffee. He had been waiting.

Tony walked over and carefully took the mug out of Steve’s hands, setting it down on the counter. He said very seriously, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replied, the beginnings of a confused frown between his brows.

Then Tony curled his fingers into the collar of Steve’s shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. Steve sighed against his mouth, tilting his head to get the right angle, and Tony abruptly stepped in closer, shoving Steve back against the counter.

“Tony,” Steve warned, backing off a little, but Tony was having absolutely none of that. He slid his hand up around the back of Steve’s neck and used his weight to pull him back down.

Steve’s hands settled against his waist, sliding in under the fabric of his jacket, and Tony whined. He was so gentle, so cautious, even now – and it was a tease, when he had to know how much Tony wanted this, how badly he needed to feel his hands.

He caught Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and Steve jerked back, surprised at the sharp bite of pain. For a moment, he stared down at Tony in surprise, and then his expression morphed into something completely different. His eyes smouldered as he backed Tony up, shoving him bodily against the nearest wall and pinning him there with his arms bracketing Tony’s head.

A shudder ran through Tony’s body, his hands clenching into Steve’s shirt. “Fuck,” he gasped. “Steve –”

“We’re in the kitchen,” Steve said, his voice low and dark and dangerous. Tony’s stomach squirmed, arousal spreading tingles up his spine. “You’ve been home two minutes, Tony, couldn’t you even wait –”

“Been waiting all day,” Tony said in a rush, leaning into mouth kisses against the exposed flesh where Steve’s shirt parted. He nosed the material aside to find his collarbone, and paused to trace a path along it to the base of his neck. “Steve, I can’t –”

“I should make you,” Steve said, his fingers combing into Tony’s hair and then gently pulling his head back. “You’re always so impatient.”

“Ah – Steve,” Tony gasped as the other man’s lips traced the column of his throat. His eyes closed as Steve’s thigh slid between his legs. “Steve, please.”

“God, I missed you,” Steve breathed against his ear, and finally his hips rocked forward.

Tony sobbed at the relief of friction, his whole body arching into Steve’s as he wrapped one arm tight around his neck. His head fell back as Steve’s whole body moved, pressing him hard into the wall again and again.

“Thought about you,” Steve murmured against his neck, lips sloppy as he pressed kisses on every inch of exposed skin – which wasn’t much, since Tony was still wearing all of his suit.

He wanted to fix that, but he couldn’t bear to take his hands off Steve for long enough to deal with buttons, not even to shrug out of his jacket. Still, Steve seemed to have the right idea. His fingers caught in the loop of Tony’s tie and pulled, loosening the knot, thumbing open his shirt collar as he continued.

“Every night, Tony,” he murmured. “God, I dreamed about you –”

Tony could see the flush creeping down Steve’s neck. He pulled the other man closer. “What’d you dream about?”

Steve grunted and went shuddering-still, his forehead pressed to Tony’s shoulder as he wrestled back his control. His breath felt hot and damp through Tony’s shirt. One of his hands had stopped with the palm pressed against the outer curve of the arc reactor, just above his heartbeat, and for a second Tony couldn’t breathe.

“C’mon, what did you dream about, huh?” Tony said, recovering himself and tugging at Steve’s hair until he raised his head. “Was it my mouth? ’Cause we can do that. I could suck you off, right now, seriously, c’mon, let me –”

Fuck,” Steve growled, and a throb of arousal ran right through Tony, down to the tips of his fingers and toes because it was rare that Steve swore, and even rarer for him to look at Tony like this, like all he wanted to do was take him apart.

“Steve,” Tony moaned, squirming against him just to watch that expression flicker into something more dangerous, just to make his hips twitch forward. “Steve, c’mon –”

“I’m going to fuck you,” Steve said, so intently that Tony couldn’t bear it. He rolled his hips, and it was so very not enough that Tony whined and tried to push back against him. Steve pressed his whole body flush against Tony’s, pinning him so that he couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and with his lips brushing Tony’s continued, “I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to make it slow. I’m going to make up for not being here to do it every night.”

The promise in his voice was too much. Tony writhed against him – and abruptly Steve let him go.

Tony couldn’t bite back the whine that rose in his throat. “No,” he moaned. “No, Steve, please –”

He clutched at Steve’s shirt, trying to drag him back in, but without his armour there wasn’t a lot he could physically make Steve do. Steve’s hands brushed down Tony’s arms until he could lace their fingers together and pull Tony against his chest.

“Tony,” he breathed against Tony’s mouth. “Tony, shh.”

He kissed Tony long and slow, the slick slide of his lips almost enough to distract him from the fact that Steve was manoeuvring him out of his jacket.

“Not in the kitchen,” he murmured as he pulled back. He let the jacket fall into a crumpled pile on the floor, his hands never leaving Tony’s body, strong arms wrapping around his torso.

Steve picked him up with the kind of ease that made Tony’s insides squirm – equal parts irritation, embarrassment, and arousal so fierce it curled his toes and drew a low whine from his throat. He hated that Steve could do this, hated even more the effect it had on him, that he liked being picked up as if he weighed nothing, but with his legs around Steve’s waist, he had the whole length of Steve’s neck to play with, and he didn’t even have to push up onto the balls of his feet to do it. He nosed aside his shirt and scraped his teeth across sensitive skin, wanting to leave marks that couldn’t be hidden under his collar. Steve hissed, tipping his head to one side, sliding one hand up into Tony’s hair – which meant he was basically holding Tony up with one arm, and the only thing he could think about that through the spike of want that jolted down his spine was that, fucking hell, he was screwed.

He buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, trying to pull together enough shreds of his dignity to tell him to put him down. He could feel that Steve was moving, and wondered vaguely if he was being taken up to the bedroom – that would be just like Steve, to call a halt so they could go somewhere a little more appropriate. Then he stopped and sat down, Tony’s knees coming to rest on the seat cushion on either side of his hips.

Tony raised his head until he could kind of see where they had ended up, staying close enough to Steve to bump noses. The living room. He settled himself more comfortably in Steve’s lap, a smirk starting to play across his lips.

“So the kitchen’s off limits, but here’s good?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

“Here’s good,” Steve agreed, ignoring the sarcasm. “Now come here.”

Tony looped his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed him, losing himself in the soft sounds that worked their way out of Steve’s throat as he sucked on his lower lip. While one of Steve’s hands remained a warm weight against his hip, the other slid up his chest and pulled at the knot in Tony’s tie until it came undone. Then his fingers trailed back down his chest, catching on the buttons of his shirt.

He pressed his palm to Tony’s dick, hard and insistent, and Tony hissed, breaking the kiss so he could breathe, bracing his hands on the back of the armchair.

“Easy,” Steve murmured as he pulled the zipper down. Tony tipped his head back. He couldn’t stand the look on Steve’s face, all lowered eyes and intent.

Steve’s hand slid into his boxers and started to stroke, and Tony was suddenly glad that they were no longer standing. He wanted to push his knees further apart but the arms of the chair were in the way, so instead he squirmed, trying to get closer. There wasn’t enough space. Dimly, he was aware of a stream of nonsense spilling from his lips, begging – begging, he was pathetic –

“God, Tony,” Steve said, and that shut him up.

He couldn’t talk over that tone, breathy and urgent, and so far from Steve’s normal levels of composure. He didn’t want to miss a single word of it. He felt Steve’s body shift, and then his hips were under Tony’s and he could feel the hard line of Steve’s cock through too many layers of clothing. He swallowed a whimper.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. On the edge of a moan, he said, “You have no idea –”

His voice broke over the words and he stopped short. The fingers of his free hand curled into Tony’s belt loops to tug him into a better position and Tony groaned, rolling his hips down. He let his head fall forwards and found Steve looking up at him, lips parted, breath shuddering in and out of his chest. Tony released his grip on the back of the armchair so he could move his hands to Steve’s broad shoulders, bending into an open-mouthed kiss.

“I want,” Steve began, but the rest of his words were lost into another press of lips.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed when they broke apart for air, thinking of Steve’s fingers spreading him open, preparing him for the width of his cock. “Yeah.”

Steve shifted his grip, twisted his fingers, and Tony’s back arched, pulling them apart. He whined, but Steve was already closing the gap, bending his head to mouth against the edges of the arc reactor through Tony’s shirt. The wet touch of his lips and tongue on the metal was like low-level static, sharp and tingling, pleasure on the edge of pain.

The sensation was enough to tumble Tony over the edge, hips jerking as Steve’s unrelenting fingers dragged his orgasm out in long, slow strokes until he was left boneless against Steve’s chest.

As his higher brain functions returned, slightly fuzzy but intact, Tony smiled and nuzzled into Steve’s neck. The nervous tension that had been tingling inside his muscles for days – the anticipation, desire, longing, whatever label he gave it, the thing that had been keeping him irritable by day and awake at night – was gone. His skin no longer felt a size too small, and he was content just to lean into Steve and never, ever move.

But he could feel him, still hard and trying to be subtle about it, but not quite able to not move. Steve’s palms were hot against his thighs, fingers twitching with pent up energy.

Tony pushed himself up, forcing muscles that were already stiff from the exertion to move. He got out of Steve’s lap before the other man could protest, but that didn’t stop Steve from catching hold of his waist to stop him.

“Tony –”

“Do you want me to blow you or not?” Tony asked, matter-of-fact because he knew the effect that had on him. Sure enough, Steve’s cheeks flushed a shade darker and his gaze flickered to Tony’s mouth. A moment later he let go and Tony took that as permission to go ahead.

He dropped to his knees and settled between Steve’s legs, running his hands up and down his thighs. Steve groaned and tipped his head back. “Tease.”

“You love it,” Tony grinned, but he took pity on Steve and unfastened his pants. Steve’s body surged up to meet his hand and he chuckled, holding Steve down as he bent over to breathe hot-damp air through the fabric of his underwear.

A strangled noise caught in Steve’s throat. Tony mouthed along the hard line of his erection. He could do this all day, just to wring those noises out of him.

“Tony,” Steve sighed, one hand unclenching to stroke through Tony’s hair – his left hand, the one that hadn’t left a damp print on his trousers. It settled against the curve of his scalp, the heavy weight encouraging him forward. But Tony liked both of Steve’s hands on him, especially when he was on his knees, and Steve was too much of a gentleman to smear come all over him just to pull him closer.

He lifted his head and grabbed Steve’s right wrist, pulling it towards him and ignoring the confused frown in favour of pressing a wet and open-mouthed kiss into his knuckles.

Steve’s expression smoothed out, back into the undisguised want. Tony allowed himself a brief smirk, then set to work licking Steve’s fingers clean. It was hard maintaining consistent eye contact when Steve’s pupils were blown, the rings of blue around them so dark they had turned black, so much naked desire focused on him. He sucked two of Steve’s fingers into his mouth and let his eyelids flicker closed.

“That’ll do, Tony, jeez,” Steve snapped, pulling his hand back and then immediately pressing the palm against Tony’s jaw line, thumb tracing the edge of his goatee and fingers leaving saliva against his five o’clock shadow. “C’mon, if you’re going to.”

He slid down a little further until he was right on the edge of his seat, legs splayed wide to accommodate Tony between them. Even if his words sounded like a command, his body language was practically begging.

Tony licked his lips as he slid his fingers into the waistband of Steve’s underwear and pulled them down. He took hold of Steve’s cock and stroked once before closing his mouth over the head.

Steve’s fingers twitched against his scalp as he hummed and pulled off, but he didn’t let his lips leave Steve’s skin. Turning his head on one side, he trailed down the underside, pausing to suck soft kisses against sensitive skin. When he reached the circle of his own hand, he changed tack again, licking up the length and then quickly engulfing Steve once again in the heat of his mouth.

A shudder ran through Steve’s body with the effort of not thrusting up. Tony splayed both hands out across his hipbones and leaned his weight down, digging his fingers in to get Steve’s attention. As Steve raised his head, Tony focused on his face, trying to convey with his eyes that he could let go. That he didn’t have to hold back. He inched his lips further down Steve’s cock, gaze locked on Steve’s blown pupils, and finally he felt the unnecessary tension drop from Steve’s muscles. His body rippled, the motion of his hips stalled only by Tony’s hands.

Tony let his eyes close and moved in time to the rhythm Steve set, slowly taking in as much of his length as he could manage. One of Steve’s hands had slipped from his hair to his shoulder, where it clenched into his shirt. The other was still stroking over his scalp, fingers kneading fitfully.

It would be so easy for Steve to hold him in place – but it was like it hadn’t even occurred to him that he could just fist his hands in Tony’s hair and thrust. It wasn’t as if Tony could hold back super-strength, not really. His hands braced on Steve’s hips wouldn’t stop him if he decided he wanted to fuck Tony’s mouth. But even when Tony deliberately drew it out, holding him on the brink of orgasm but not letting him come, he let Tony call the shots.

The thought sent threads of pleasure trailing down Tony’s spine to settle into a slow burn of arousal. Later, he was going to make sure that Steve followed up on the promise of fucking him. The weight of Steve’s cock felt good against his tongue, but he wanted more – wanted to capture Steve’s lips and swallow the sounds he made as he came.

He moaned, the sound catching at the back of his throat, and a fitful tug of Steve’s fingers drew Tony back from his fantasy. He curled his tongue around the shaft, relaxing his throat, and Steve arched under him, fingers pulling at his shirt almost hard enough to rip the fabric.

“Ah – Tony,” he gasped, barely able to form words. Tony let his eyes flutter open, skimmed his gaze up Steve’s body until their eyes met. Steve’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Please –”

Tony knew he was close without the warning, could feel it in the tension in Steve’s muscles, the restless strength under his hands that he couldn’t quite pin down. He met Steve’s eyes and deliberately let his hands go slack. Steve couldn’t abort his next thrust, his brain still expecting resistance despite Tony’s ghosting touch over his hipbones, and his dick slid all the way into Tony’s mouth. Tony’s eyes snapped shut as he focused on not pulling back, fighting his gag reflex as Steve’s hips jerked up again.

“Fuck,” Steve spat through gritted teeth. “Fuck, Tony.”

He came with a final thrust, and Tony pulled back a little so that he could properly swallow. Still, thick streams escaped the corners of his mouth and ran down into his beard. His own dick twitched with renewed interest at the thought of how he must look – how both of them looked – still mostly dressed, having messy sex in the middle of the communal living space at just after six, fuck, had he even said hello before he threw himself at Steve?

When he finally pulled off and sat back on his heels, he found Steve watching him through half-closed eyes, a soft smile on his face. Slowly, he reached out to cup his jaw, sliding his thumb across his chin and smearing his come into his goatee.

Tony groaned and shifted on his knees. “I wish I was twenty years younger.”

“Why?” Steve asked indulgently as he wiped his fingers on Tony’s shirt.

“Because,” he replied. “I am so ready for round two, right now – but basic biology disagrees with me.”

Steve chuckled at him. “You are ridiculous. And impatient.”

“If I was patient, we’d still be on, ‘How are you?’” Tony pointed out, hunkering down and resting his cheek against Steve’s knee. “How are you, by the way?”

“I’m pretty good,” Steve replied, amusement lacing his voice. His fingers twined into Tony’s hair, gently smoothing out the mussed locks. “Better now I’m home.”

“Successful trip?” Tony asked, but he didn’t care, he really didn’t – because whatever had happened, Steve had been missing him, too.

“More or less. Might have gone a little faster if I’d had you with me.”

“Nah,” Tony said with a shrug. It was a conscious struggle to remain calm and impassive, when all his face wanted to do was break into a big stupid grin. He busied himself with making himself vaguely decent – more as something to do with his hands than anything else, because these clothes would be coming right off again as soon as they were both upstairs. “I’d only mess things up. You’ve heard Fury –”

“Still,” Steve murmured as he fastened up his own pants. “I could’ve used your company.”

Warmth flared in Tony’s chest like someone had lit a fire behind his ribs, and it was banishing the chill he’d been feeling since Steve boarded the plane.

“Come on,” Steve said, giving him a gentle nudge with his leg. “We should clear out before someone else comes in.”

“Oh, as if they haven’t all vacated the premises in preparation for just this sort of thing,” Tony said. It wasn’t true, at least not to his knowledge, but the house had been weirdly silent since he got back, considering that it was home to six people – and everybody did know that Steve was coming home today. And that Tony had been moping since he left. Two plus two.

Steve’s cheeks flushed scarlet at the implication. “Please tell me you didn’t tell our friends to not be home tonight so we could …”

He broke off and made a vague hand gesture at the both of them, too embarrassed to actually say the words. Tony finished the sentence for him. “Fuck on the sofa?” It was worth the glare just to see Steve’s blush darken another shade. He tried his best to look innocent. “Of course not. But I imagine all the noise just now tipped them off.”

“Oh God,” Steve groaned, standing up and starting for the door. “Shut up.”

Tony scrambled after him, insinuating himself under Steve’s arm and sliding one around his waist. “You know, there’s only one thing that shuts me up.”

“No it doesn’t,” Steve countered as he steered both of them towards the stairs. He was trying not to smile. Tony gave him a squeeze.

“Well, you could try anyway?” he suggested, giving him his best seductive smile, the one that tended to make those who knew him well roll their eyes.

Steve laughed and pulled him closer, pausing on the first couple of steps. “Oh, believe me,” he murmured as he bent down to speak right into Tony’s ear. “I intend to.”