It's the perfect scam. Absolutely perfect. Tony sometimes has to pinch himself to realize that it's not a dream, that he really is living the perfect life. And he's found the perfect partner.
Iron Man hovers above the wreckage of the building, the supervillain inside decidedly dead, and those he was keeping hostage? Dead with him. Tragically killed by his henchmen when they realized Iron Man and the Hulk were coming.
At least, that's what the evidence will say. The henchmen can't speak for themselves, as they're red paste on the pavement, their brains covering the Hulk's fists. No witnesses. No one to say otherwise.
Twenty people died today.
Tony has never been more grateful for the suit than in these moments, not when he's being shot at, or flying, but right now, when it can let him grin like a fiend and keep his erection from showing as Iron Man puts on a good show of sorrow at the terrible tragedy that befell these poor innocents.
Inside that protection, Tony was practically vibrating with repressed energy. He finished his display of grief and flew off as if overcome by emotion, the Hulk following in his wake. Which, of course, was true, just not the emotion the crowd thought.
The armor was off by the time the Hulk subsided, leaving Bruce three-quarters naked, blood staining his fists, right at the end of Tony's disassembly walkway. Bruce was dusty and sweaty and bloody, breathing heavy from the exertion of death. And Tony was flushed, painfully hard, and just about needing to scream his excitement.
Bruce knew it, and smirked as he pushed Tony down. The smell of blood on his hand drove Tony insane, and he shoved the lost cause of the pants out of the way to swallow Bruce's erection whole, moaning in ecstasy. Blood-wet hand petted at his hair, and Tony nearly came on the spot when he saw red footprints behind Bruce and the drying crust of scarlet on his feet. God, the Hulk had stomped some of the henchmen to death.
Thank JARVIS he'd gotten it all on camera - he was going to need to watch that again.
The Hulk was beautiful in his dealing of death, utterly brutal and uncompromising as an animal, backed by all the boundless rage in Bruce's heart and mind. The only things Bruce really remembered from his transformation were death, and those deaths were indescribably precious to him. Tony understood. Tony understood completely.
Tony had indirectly killed thousands of people for years through his weapons, but it hadn't been until he'd been captured and forced to fight his way out again that he'd seen the real thrill of doing it first-hand. But he couldn't just approach it straight on, oh no. Only Tony Stark could have invented Iron Man, so Tony Stark had to have a reason to kill in public.
Tragedy. A change of heart. Battling against enemies who never failed to rise to the occasion. A dozen careful battles, making sure to keep the carnage confined, and then when the public had accepted him, another tragedy. A fight he "couldn't" move out of a public place in time. A collapsed building. A plausible reason for the splash of red from bullets or fire or shrapnel. A way to fulfill his needs and keep himself out from under suspicion. He was a genuine hero. And still the Merchant of Death.
And to meet Bruce the year after that? Nirvana. Death shared between them, and the people cheered for them both and wore shirts with their faces plastered on them.
Tony moved faster, shoving a hand down his pants to palm himself as Bruce's hand tightened in his hair. He knew what Bruce was thinking - the expression on the people's faces, the helplessness and fear right before the end, when they saw the end coming for them wearing the face of their idols... it was a high unlike any other, gulped deep in draughts between long dry spells.
Bruce groaned almost in pain as he came down Tony's throat, and Tony stopped his hand, enjoying the salty thickness as Bruce pulled away, eyes glittering.
"Did you get the footage?" Bruce asked breathlessly, hands squelching as he flexed his fingers. Tony nodded, swallowing so he could answer, his voice rough with excitement.
"Every minute. In glorious HD," Tony said, as Bruce tugged him to his feet. "I want you to watch it when I take you."
Bruce's bloody hands staining the pristine white of Tony's sheets while watching Tony's precise execution of everyone in the building... Bruce's cock was stirring again, his eyes dark as Tony pulled him into the bedroom, the screen already starting to flicker into life.