“You,” Steve murmured in Tony’s ear, locking his arm around his back to pull him closer down into him, “are way too tense, Shellhead.”
“Ah,” Tony said, as their dicks pressed together through Steve’s boxers and the slacks Tony was still wearing. “Um. Am—am I?”
“I can feel it in your muscles,” Steve told him, rolling his hips up in a slow rhythm just to feel the friction as Tony groaned, moved with him to give him more. Tony was always so good about that, and it felt so good, pure pleasure from the pressure and contact centering on his cock. “You’re practically trembling.”
Tony frowned, he could feel it against his cheek. “It’s fine, Steve,” he said in a quelling voice.
“No,” Steve said. “It isn’t.” He stilled his hips, laid one hand on Tony’s rear and gripped tightly so he wouldn’t get any ideas about getting away. “It was a great Valentine’s Day,” he murmured in Tony’s ear. “The food was great, I loved that place you took me. You were great. The portfolio case was perfect.” It really had been—it looked sturdier than his old one, perfect for carrying the shield, and it had a place for everything he needed, even a place to keep his real art separate from the shield. The small Japanese restaurant had been intimate, with its private tatami rooms and garden, and Steve had had enough to eat that he felt satisfied, and Tony had been nothing but generous and sweet and funny—and anxious, Steve knew, all night. Every year it was the same—Tony was perfect, and Steve had a great time, and Tony was so nervous to get everything right, and so anxious and fretty about it all, that his muscles were in knots by the time they got into bed. Steve tugged Tony’s shirt out of his slacks and slid his hands up under it along Tony’s back, rubbing his thumbs in against the tense, trembling muscles. “You are,” he murmured in Tony’s ear, “the sweetest, most generous, most wonderful boyfriend a man could ever have.”
Tony opened his mouth and started to argue, but Steve cut him off with a shake of his head and a kiss to his ear. “Don’t argue,” he said.
Tony made a huffing noise.
“It’s true,” Steve told him. “I know you probably have fifty reasons why you’re not, and not good enough for me, and other things you should have done, and reasons why you don’t measure up, but I don’t care about any of that, all right?”
Tony scowled, then leaned forward and rested his head, tentatively, almost, on Steve’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said, voice tense and grumpy, “maybe, maybe, I was going to say something like that.”
Steve smiled a little and ran his fingers up the middle of Tony’s back, rubbing them soft and warm over his skin.
“But it’s just because—it’s just because, I—I,” Tony stopped, “because you’re so, you’re so wonderful Steve, and you deserve, well, more. More than just . . . dinner and a present, and I never know how to show you, how much, how much it means to me, that you’re here, and you want me, and how much better you make my life just by—” he sucked in an unsteady breath, and Steve flattened both his palms on his back, feeling him tremble, and held him.
“Just by being here?” he murmured in Tony’s ear. “And being you?”
Tony breathed out, all breathy and uneven. “Y-yeah,” he said.
“That’s sure funny,” Steve said, “because that’s how I feel about you.” He lifted one hand, cradled the back of Tony’s head, feeling the soft curls just starting to escape the dictatorial regime of Tony’s hair gel, rubbing gently at the base of his skull, and then tilted his head, gently, letting Tony resist if he wanted to, to angle their lips together. Tony let him, making a low, eager noise in the back of his throat as their lips touched, leaning eagerly into the kiss. His arms came up and curled around Steve’s shoulders, the back of his head, arched into Steve until their bodies were pressed together from shoulders to hips. Tony’s mouth was warm and perfect and ardent against Steve’s, and he rubbed his hands from Tony’s hips up over his ribs and back down. He would never get tired of kissing him, not ever.
Tony’s legs were spread around him, knees against his sides, his cock hard against Steve’s belly, pressing into him more insistently as Tony leaned into the kiss, skimmed his fingers through Steve’s hair, mouth wanting and needy on his, hot and wet. Steve held him close, hands on his hips, but didn’t arch up into that hot length against his stomach, not yet, enjoying the less immediate heat of the kiss, the way Tony was kissing him, like he was pouring his whole body into it, his whole soul. Steve wasn’t sure how long they spent kissing, didn’t bother to keep track of it, just kissed and kissed and kissed Tony back, trying to put just as much of himself into it as Tony was. When Tony finally pulled away, he was panting, and he dropped his cheek to Steve’s hair, running his fingers up and down Steve’s neck in a sweet, affectionate way that made tingles run through Steve’s whole body. He felt hot all over.
Tony stroked his cheek along the top of Steve’s head, pressed his nose into the strands and laid a kiss there, and Steve felt something in his chest, in his cheeks, the back of his neck, go even warmer, in the best way. He slid his hands down and tugged at Tony’s belt. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” he murmured against the soft but scratchy skin at Tony’s neck.
“Mmm,” Tony agreed, and let Steve manhandle him backwards, sliding the belt out of its buckle and through the loops without really looking. He draped it over the arm of the sofa and brought his fingers back around to unbutton Tony’s trousers. He let his fingers brush against Tony’s cock as he did and felt him shiver, heard him suck in his breath. He could feel the soft lace of his underwear, just barely confining the straining heat of his cock, looked down into the open fly to see the delicate layers of black scalloped lace that barely covered Tony’s arousal now. He could see Tony’s self-aware little grin as Steve sucked in his breath and brushed the backs of his fingers over it, taken by the sight, heard Tony give a low, rough noise and saw his cock jerk beneath the touch. “Like ‘em?” Tony murmured, low and throaty. His fingers curled gently at the back of Steve’s neck in a way that had him hyper-aware of the touch.
“Love ‘em,” Steve murmured back, just as low. The way the lace contrasted with Tony’s smooth olive skin, the hint of hair trailing up from his groin . . . he could feel the heat growing in his belly, in his cock, just looking. “You look incredible.” He brought his hand up, ran his knuckles just under Tony’s chin, tilting it up for another kiss. “Like always,” he told him with a smile. “But I love the lace on you.”
“Do you now,” Tony purred. “I’m always happy to play to your preferences, big guy.” He kissed Steve back, sweet and soft and wet over his bottom lip, then pulled back and dropped his feet to stand, quickly stepping out of his pants, then starting on his shirt, unfastening his tie and undoing the buttons. When he had it open he grinned at Steve, seeing him watching, and turned around, linking his hands behind his head and swaying his hips. Steve found his gaze captured by the way the lace hugged the lush curves of his rear, dipping into the crack between, so he could see every inch of definition, especially as Tony dropped his arms to pull off his shirt, revealing even more, the sweet muscled dip of his lower back, the definition in his shoulders, through his thin undershirt.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Steve said. He could see the little smile on Tony’s face, even as he bent forward and down, showing off his gorgeous backside. He spread his legs and gripped his ankles, and Steve caught his breath. That was just—God. The way the lace rode up over his cheeks, the flex in his luscious thighs—it was hard not to get up and touch him, run his hands down along those amazing legs. Instead, he told himself to play along, and stretched one arm out along the back of the couch, leaned back into it. Tony winked over his shoulder at him and then pulled off his undershirt in one smooth movement. Tony tossed the shirt away. Steve swallowed deeply as he saw the muscles flex in Tony’s back as he slowly slid back up, trailing his hands over his own legs. And how about that core strength, he thought approvingly, even as he wondered at how beautiful Tony was moving like that. When he’d straightened up again, Tony spun around and started back toward him.
“Thank you, sugar,” Tony said, lashes very dark over his eyes, “I could definitely say the same.”
Steve felt his face heat, even as he smiled in response. “Get back over here, mister,” he said.
“Sure,” Tony said. He put his hands on his hips, cocked his head. “Where do you want me? Just say the word.”
“Right back where you were,” Steve told him, and held out both arms. Tony was there a moment later, sinking into his lap with his legs spread to straddle him, and then their lips were touching again, and Steve breathed out happily into the kiss, running his hands down bare skin now over Tony’s back to settle at his rear and trace the lacy edges where they stood out over Tony’s skin. He found himself gripping more tightly, kneading, and Tony gave a shivering sigh into his mouth, hands clenching on Steve’s shoulders.
They kissed for a long moment before Steve shifted, curled an arm around Tony as he pushed him down onto his back on the couch cushions, but he didn’t climb over him, just trailed his hand down his chest. Tony stared up at him, panting, his eyes dark, a slight smile on his face. “You want to turn over?” Steve asked, circling his finger around Tony’s navel, through the dark hair there, in a way that made Tony smile wider, his eyes crinkle up with laughter, even though he didn’t quite squirm under the touch.
“Sure,” he said breathlessly, and pushed Steve’s hand away. His grin widened even as he rolled over and up to his knees. He grinned over his shoulder at Steve as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the arm of the couch. His back dipped so that his rear end, framed in that gorgeous lace, was pushed out and up toward Steve. “How about right here?” he asked, and his voice came out all breathy and low.
Steve swayed toward him before he even realized what he was doing. He laid one hand on Tony’s round, gorgeous cheek and rubbed there, lightly. He could see Tony’s eyes go dark as he licked his bottom lip. “You comfy there?” he asked, his voice coming out husky and low.
“Sure am,” Tony said. He spread his legs apart a little further and leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on Steve. The position was a blatant offer. “Work for you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Steve said. He couldn’t help it, dragged his finger down the crease between Tony’s cheeks and watched him shudder, feeling the warmth of him there. “But are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Tony said. “Come on, honeymuffin, I want it.”
“If you’re sure,” Steve managed to get out. He let his finger linger over Tony’s hole, feeling the tight pucker, the heat of that place, through the thin lace. He rubbed, pressing very gently, and Tony gasped, sucked on his bottom lip, his eyes flicking up to Steve to look at him through his lashes. “God, the way you look at me,” Steve gasped, and drew his hand back as he moved to get to his feet. He couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on Tony’s lips as he went, though, and Tony moaned and leaned up into it, eyes fluttered closed and mouth pressing against his so sweetly and soft that Steve found himself sinking his hand back into Tony’s hair and leaning down over him into the kiss for a long few moments himself.
Finally, he had the presence of mind to pull away, brushing his thumb regretfully over Tony’s cheek as he did. “Need the lube,” he explained, and impulsively left another kiss on Tony’s forehead, just above his eyebrow, before he stood up entirely.
“Yeah, well, I won’t argue with that,” Tony said with a low, throaty little laugh. He laid his head back down on his crossed arms.
Steve hurried to get the lube out from the nightstand where they kept the bigger bottle.
“Are you getting the silicone based?” Tony mumbled into his arms.
“Yes?” Steve asked. He’d figured that would be best, it was what they usually used when he was the one penetrating Tony, and there weren’t any toys they were using.
“Just making sure,” Tony said. He lifted his head, and grinned back at Steve a little. “You’re big, you know.”
“I know,” Steve said, self-conscious. And he knew Tony was a little, well, he could get anxious about it. Tony was almost always tight, tense, and it took a while to get him ready. Anything Steve could do to relax him was worth it, just about, if you asked him. He brought the bottle back with him and set it on the coffee table, hooking one ankle around the leg to drag it close, then sat down just behind Tony and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, more kisses all the way down over his back, along his spine. Tony sighed, and relaxed a little, the tight muscles in his shoulders and back loosening. Steve laid his hands on Tony’s sides and followed down after his mouth, rubbing inward with his thumbs, against the muscle, and heard Tony groan. He pressed a kiss to the dip of Tony’s spine, just above the band of his lace panties, then moved down even further, kissing the curve of Tony’s rear through the lace, then the spot just over his hole. Tony shuddered under him, and Steve worked his thumbs into the small of his back, rubbing and stroking, until he felt some of the tension there give way.
“Are you sure?” Tony said, after a moment, his voice low and a little loose, almost slurred. “I could suck you off. You could still fuck me after—”
Steve slid his hand down Tony’s back again, soothing. “Not that that’s not a tempting offer,” he murmured. “But I want you like this, all right?”
“Mmm,” Tony said. “You can come in me as many times as you want, if . . .”
Steve knew he was flushed now. “We’ll see how it goes,” he said. Tony was always so generous—at first it had been overwhelming, and Steve had felt . . . well, almost competitive, frustrated that he never seemed to be able to please Tony as much as Tony pleased him he was so focused on blowing his brains out with pleasure. Now he realized that it was just Tony’s eagerness to please, wanting to make Steve happy in bed, always, that had led him to be such a showoff at first. He was actually surprised, and pleased, that Tony had let himself be so accepting, so passive, so far tonight, once they’d started the more sexy side of things, but he couldn’t say that he was totally surprised that Tony was still worrying about doing enough. Sometimes Steve wished he didn’t have such a short refractory period or eager sex drive, so that Tony wouldn’t feel that . . . what, responsibility, or duty, or whatever it was, to give him extra orgasms to satisfy him. He kissed the lace over Tony’s crease again, brushed his fingers down over the heavy weight of his balls and made Tony shudder, before he hooked his fingers under the elastic. “All right if I take these off you now, baby doll?” he murmured.
Tony shuddered under him, made a soft, breathless sort of noise. “Um, yeah, sure,” he said. Steve grinned as he slid the panties down, slowly enough for him to get a good run of his palms over Tony’s rounded cheeks, and left them puddled around Tony’s knees.
“That all right?” he asked, running one hand down the inside of Tony’s thigh. He’d never get enough of touching his thighs, his legs, the rounded, graceful muscle, the lush thickness that sometimes made Tony self-conscious but that Steve loved.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “That’s fine.” He shifted a little on his knees, but left the panties where they were.
“Good,” Steve said, and squirted a healthy portion of the lube onto his fingers. He slid the thumb of his other hand down between Tony’s cheeks, rubbing the lube around until it coated his fingers, then pressed it flat against Tony’s tight little hole. Tony gave a low gasp, almost inaudible, but Steve’s enhanced hearing caught it easily. Steve used that hand to tug Tony’s cheek to the side, spreading him open, resting his thumb on the sensitive skin just above Tony’s dusky opening.
He circled it with a lube-wet finger and Tony made a low noise. “Taking your time, Steve,” he said, a little shakily, after a moment when all Steve did was run his finger around the tight, puckered muscle, again and again.
When Tony was bottoming, Steve liked to take it slow. Tony was still so tight under his finger that it just felt wrong to push it in, for one thing. For another . . . . “Something wrong with slow and romantic?” he murmured. “It is Valentine’s Day, you know.”
Tony shivered a little, and bent his head forward. “No,” he said, after a moment, and his voice was soft. “Nothing wrong with it.”
Steve rubbed his thumb over Tony’s opening, massaging, relaxing, spreading the lube. He could feel it as Tony started to relax, and leaned in again to press more kisses over his shoulder. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just reveled in the warmth and scent of Tony’s skin (clean, cologne, a touch of Tony’s musk and sweat and the scent of his skin itself, the smell of who he was, just Tony), the rhythm of the slow touches between Tony’s legs. He brought his other hand up and rubbed at Tony’s side, over his ribs, kissed up to lay kisses over the back of Tony’s neck, beginning to press a little more firmly on each pass over and around Tony’s hole. He started to press in, once, twice, then brought his finger away, swirled it around again, feathering kisses down Tony’s spine. Only when Tony’s body didn’t clench up to resist him did he make sure his finger was still wet with lube, swiping it over his slick palm, and press it inside.
Tony made a gasping, choking noise into his arms, but he didn’t tense up, didn’t clamp down around him. His muscles fluttered and then relaxed, and Steve was able to push his finger in a little more easily. He pushed it in, then withdrew, once, twice, before he began to move it to massage Tony inside, shallowly at first, then pushing in inch by inch, just as he had around the muscle outside.
Tony moaned a little. “Steve,” he said. His body quivered around Steve’s steady massage, tightened, then relaxed, and Steve responded by sliding his finger in a little deeper.
“That’s me,” Steve whispered, smiling against his shoulder.
Tony huffed out a laugh, and it made his insides clutch and flutter around Steve’s finger. He rubbed it gently against him, and Tony made another low noise. “Are you ever going to—to get going?” Tony asked, looking back at him over his shoulder, and his eyes were wide and dark with pleasure, the question distracted, his voice soft and velvety-scratchy and slow.
“At my own pace,” Steve said in his mildest tone. He smiled back at him. “Don’t rush me, buster.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony murmured. Steve angled his finger when he thought he was about at the right place, searching, and then Tony gasped, loudly, and his back arched.
There they went. Steve rubbed his finger there in a slow, gentle circle, and Tony panted. He was so hot and tight inside, clutching around Steve’s finger even as he gulped and panted into his arms, his fluttering internal muscles and shifting hips giving the lie to how still he was otherwise, his overall quietness, nothing but gasps and little low-voiced noises. But Steve knew he was enjoying it, could see it in every shiver and shift of his hips. Steve drew his finger out after a moment, slicked it with more lube, and slid it back into him.
There was a part of him that liked taking it slow, too. That really enjoyed watching every flex and quiver and shift of Tony’s body, feeling him inside as every gasp and low grunt for air went through his body, tightened his muscles. Tony was almost always so quiet in bed, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t plenty to notice about his every reaction. Sometimes Steve thought he saw more because Tony was so understated about his reactions, especially at first. Later on, sure, he could probably get him to babble and gasp out a constant stream of moans and encouragement, and make those sweet little noises that were something between a moan and a gulped-down wail, but Tony always started quiet unless he was talking dirty.
Steve kept at him for a while, circling his finger to stretch him, not stinting on the attention to his sweet spot, eventually working in another finger, watching Tony shiver and shake, his legs not spread too far with the panties still clinging to his knees. It was his policy to never enter Tony with less than three, which was usually just about enough, even when Tony got impatient. He knew that feeling of needing that dick in him, now, oh boy did he, but the last thing he wanted was to ever hurt Tony by pushing into him, and he had the idea that Tony had been convinced anal sex was kind of painful before they’d started doing it together.
This time, Tony didn’t try to rush him, and by the time Steve had three fingers in him, he was moaning, soft and uneven with his breaths, and rocking a little on his knees with each stroke of Steve’s fingers. Steve himself was feeling more than a little hot, and his dick was hot and throbbing and tenting the confines of his boxers. Just watching Tony, feeling him inside, the slick heat of him, the give as he loosened and opened up for Steve’s fingers—it always got him going. When he glanced down at his boxers there was a wet spot rubbed on the front, from the pre-come leaking out of his cock. He wasn’t exactly surprised, though it made him bite his lip, self-conscious. He leaned in again, kissed Tony’s shoulder even as he scissored his fingers out wide, stretching Tony until he heard him gasp and groan deep, low in his chest. “Hey,” he murmured. “You ready for more?”
“Like your cock?” Tony asked, all smart-assed sharp edge despite the warm, melting softness just under it in his voice. Steve snorted back a laugh.
“Yeah, like that,” he said, and twisted and turned his fingers, stretching them out again until Tony gasped and moaned, his legs trembling as he rocked forward against the couch, back into Steve’s hand, as if he wasn’t sure which way he wanted to go. “Just like that, actually.” He could see the way Tony’s dark, rosy rim was clinging to his fingers, and slid his thumb around the edge, couldn’t quite stop himself. Tony jerked and swore into the arm of the couch, made a louder noise as Steve turned his fingers so he could press his thumb into that soft, sensitive place just between Tony’s hole and his balls and rubbed.
“Yes, your cock, Steve, sweetheart, please,” Tony said in a pleading, shaky voice.
“You got it,” Steve told him, regretfully pulled his fingers out of Tony’s hole, and pushed down his own boxers. His cock sprang up out of them, and he suddenly felt hyper-aware of the hot throb of desire in it, in his gut, the ache and need. His tip was very wet. He stepped out of them, picked them up and tossed them to the other side of the couch, then reached for the lube. He used a handful of it and his own precome to slick himself up, then poured more on his fingers, pushed a good, gooey amount of it into Tony’s hole, which made him yelp a little in a way Steve didn’t remark on, even though he couldn’t help his smile. Instead of mentioning it, he shifted, swung both his legs up on the couch to bend over Tony’s back, bracketing his arms on the couch arm with his own as he shifted to rub his dick in between Tony’s cheeks, over his loosened, softened hole and up his crease. Tony sucked in his breath, trembled and let his head drop down as Steve nuzzled against his shoulder, his spine, the back of his neck, pressing kisses there. “You sure?” he murmured again. “This position’s good for you?” He could feel the soft, slightly scratchy lace of Tony’s panties against his thighs.
“Y-yes, it’s good for me,” Tony said with a little laugh. He sounded a little strung out, Steve noticed with a certain sense of pride, moving his hands to curl around Tony’s and squeeze. Still, he didn’t push into him right away, even though his dick was aching to. Tony’s lush rear was full and warm around him, and there was a certain pleasure in the easy friction of rubbing his dick along Tony’s crease, between his cheeks, knowing how he was teasing him in the process. Tony was loosened up enough that he almost slipped in every time he slid over his hole, just catching on the rim, but not quite enough that Steve could do it without a push. Tony groaned, shaking under him, each time the head of Steve’s cock caught there for a moment. It made Steve feel even hotter, made his cock throb, and finally he took pity on the both of them and squeezed Tony’s hands again, pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, before he reached down and got one hand on Tony’s rear. He slid his thumb into him and tugged his hole down and open, and on the next pass centered his cock on Tony’s hole and pushed inside, just between the tight squeeze of Tony’s cheeks.
Tony’s noise was louder that time, longer, a low groan, and Steve echoed it as he was finally surrounded by the tight, slick heat of Tony’s body. Tony’s legs weren’t particularly spread where he was kneeling on the couch, with the panties still around his knees, and it did make him awful tight. He brought his hand up, palmed over the curve of Tony’s rear, squeezing and rubbing, and Tony clenched up and trembled around him. “God, you feel good,” he groaned into the back of Tony’s neck. “You always feel so perfect. God, Tony.”
Tony let out a soft, heavy breath. “Steve,” was all he said, low and husky and thick.
“Right here,” Steve promised him, and swiveled his hips, letting the low, blunt pressure of him settle into Tony slowly, so that little more than gravity was drawing him in, inch by inch, opening Tony up around him. When he was far enough in that Tony was painfully tight around him, he pushed back aways, letting himself slide back and forth just enough to take the edge off as he panted into Tony’s shoulder. Tony was nice and slick with the lube, but he was still tight, especially deeper in, and he groaned and gasped, shuddering, with every movement Steve made inside him. Steve found himself rubbing his forearm, reassuring and steadying. After a moment, Tony clenched up around him, working himself around the length that Steve had inside him, and it was Steve’s turn to clutch tight to his forearm, tilt his head against the back of Tony’s neck, and pant for breath. Tony was so damn good at that, working himself inside, muscles squeezing and massaging all the way from his tip down, and Steve couldn’t think for long moments, found himself rubbing aimlessly at Tony’s hip, up and down his arm, mouthing and nuzzling and kissing wet at the back of his neck. Tony made a pleased little noise, almost a shuddering little laugh, and when Steve looked up, he had his head down on the arm of the couch, face all flushed and a little smile on his face. Steve felt a warm wave of affection, love, well up inside him, almost spilling over inside his chest. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to the back of Tony’s neck, to his jaw and then his cheek. “You’re so good,” he managed to husk out. “You’re so good at that.”
Tony smiled a little more, and shook his head, gasping and closing his eyes, but it wasn’t a refusal so much as a self-conscious acknowledgment, Steve thought. He squeezed Tony’s forearm.
“So good,” he said again, just managing to get it out again as Tony shifted and tightened around him, so warm and slick and tight around his cock. “God,” he swore again, into the back of his neck. He found himself rubbing his face against the back of Tony’s neck, kissing, wet and unfocused and soft, even as he tried to scrape his brain cells back together enough to grip Tony’s hip and pull out of him, just enough to push back in and let the heft of him, the weight, the slight push behind it, sink him even deeper into Tony’s body.
It was Tony’s turn to let out a low, strangled huff of a noise, and Steve could feel the heat build up along the back of his neck, sweep downward over his shoulders and down his back, where he was touching him. “Ah,” he said, tight and shaky, “ah. Steve.”
“This okay?” he got out. “You good?”
“Y-yeah,” Tony said, all shaky, slurry breaths. “S’ good, so good, honey.” His breath was heaving in his chest, but he hadn’t tightened up inside, so Steve just let himself keep pressing forward into him, relishing the tight clasp of Tony’s body around him. He kept pressing kisses down Tony’s spine, and it was hard to think about anything other than the warmth of him, the tightness, the slick slide over glorious friction that was being this deep inside him. He thought, distractedly, that this was a good angle for deep penetration, especially with how Tony’s back was arched and his body tilted for him, but he wasn’t sure if that was necessarily a good thing—Tony struggled to take all of him, regularly, and Steve usually purposefully angled them for shallower penetration when he was going to be inside him. He could still feel Tony’s panties bunched up against his own thighs.
Sure enough, Tony’s gasps turned harsher after a few moments, and Steve could feel it in the tightness of his body, could practically feel it himself as the pressure hit the wall and shifted into pain and Tony clenched up around him. He gasped, buried an unsteady groan against Tony’s skin as it sent pleasure shivering through him, even as he pulled back, pulled out until he felt Tony loose and relaxed around him again. Tony’s muscles felt tense now all through his body, tight, and Steve could feel it as he took a deep breath, pushed it out, then another. He kissed the back of Tony’s neck again, his shoulder, bringing up a hand to stroke it along his flank, his thigh, up over his ribs, and he felt Tony shudder under him, blow his breath out. He didn’t say anything, just took a few deep breaths of his own and told himself to wait. He didn’t want to push him, or make it harder for him to relax. He just concentrated on running his hand up and down Tony’s side, soft, easy touches.
Tony kept breathing soft and slow, and after a moment, Steve could feel the way he was relaxing against him. He didn’t move inside him, still, but brought his other hand up along his thigh, then cupped it against his cock. Tony was hot and hard under his hand, the skin silky to the touch as Steve curled his hand around him and stroked. Tony made another gasping sound, louder, quivered all over, then moaned. His hips tilted forward, pressed up just slightly into Steve’s hand.
That was it, Steve thought. He kept stroking Tony, keeping his hand loose, the passes easy, dropped his hand to pull and tease at his balls, then up over his cock again, until he could feel the wet, slick smear of precome against his hand and Tony was panting. He kept his hand moving, even as he slid out of him and reached for the lube to smear it over his other hand, hissing at the touch to his sensitized, throbbing skin, and re-slick his cock before pushing back into Tony. Tony gave way slick and easy for him, and Steve had to fight the urge to just pull back and thrust, fast and hard. That wasn’t what Tony needed from him. No matter how good it would feel. He kept his hand moving on Tony’s cock, stroking him gently, rolling his balls and tugging lightly on his length, even as he pushed into him, and Tony rocked on his knees, pushing into his hand then back against his body. That felt so good that Steve ended up catching at his hip to still him a little. “Shhh, easy,” he mumbled into the nape of Tony’s neck. He was so close; he was afraid Tony might easily push him over the edge, and he wanted to hold out just a little longer.
Tony gasped into his crossed arms, made a low noise that sounded a little like acknowledgment. Steve kissed the back of his head, feeling the damp curls tickle his lips and cheek, and concentrated on pushing into him slowly. He was thinking he’d have to stop at the same place Tony had tensed up before, but instead Tony went easy, loose around him, giving way so easily that Steve had to gasp as he slid into him deeper than he’d even expected. He heard his own groan as if from far away, even as white stars formed and blinked behind his eyes with the pleasure. He heard Tony groan, too, as if from far away, felt him buck up into Steve’s hand, move back against him and forward again, and gripped loosely around him to give Tony someplace to thrust into. It was hard to think about anything other than how good Tony felt around him, but he wanted to hold off just a little longer. Tony just felt so good, and the way he was moving—
God. Steve took a deep breath, blew it back out, then timed his movements with Tony as he shifted, coordinating his thrusts with the way Tony was rolling his hips back against him, then forward into his hand. Steve concentrated on his movements, his timing, so that he didn’t come all at once, but Tony was so tight and warm around him, the friction dragging and sweet with pleasure as he moved, a slick and easy slide with just enough tightness to make it perfect, the way the soft scratch of lace reminded Steve of the panties still loose around Tony’s knees. He tightened his hand on Tony a little, not too much, and started to twist his hand over his tip, trying to think how Tony liked it best, tried to remember to angle himself to hit Tony’s sweet spot with each thrust as he pushed in. Tony was groaning more now, making the soft sounds, breathy gasps and moans of pleasure, like he was biting his bottom lip, that Steve loved to hear when he was getting closer. Tony's cock was more slippery in Steve's hand now, hard and hot and slick.
Steve shifted, let his weight settle onto Tony a bit more, covering him, so he could bring his other hand up, roll and tug at Tony’s balls at the same time he pulled on his cock, letting his own rhythm go deeper and slower. He kissed Tony’s shoulder, trying to keep his hands gentle, not to overwhelm him, even as he braced his knees to keep sliding in and out of him. He could hear Tony gasp. “Steve,” he groaned, “Steve.” His voice was husky, almost pleading, yearning somehow, and Steve let go of him with one hand and brought it up, searching for Tony’s hand with his own, in a sudden, impulsive movement, gripping tight and intertwining their fingers. Tony’s hand trembled in his, damp and sweaty and warm, but he squeezed back, and pulled Steve’s arm closer to his chest. “Steve, so good,” he said, low and husky, “I’m so, I’m so—it’s so good, peaches, I feel so good.”
“That’s it,” Steve gasped against his shoulder, stroking Tony's cock a little faster now. “That’s perfect.”
“’S . . . ‘s good for you?” Tony asked after another moment, voice all dragging, husky breath.
Steve almost gave a breathless little laugh—trust Tony to ask how Steve was feeling right on the edge of his own pleasure. But that was Tony, and he was perfect and generous and beautiful just the way he was, generous to a fault, and Steve wouldn’t have him any other way. “Feel so good,” he managed, and his own voice came out low and pleasure-raspy. “You feel—just incredible, Tony.”
“Mmm,” Tony said. “’m glad. I—I try.” Steve let himself push in a little harder on his next thrust, gasping at the warm pleasure, and Tony gasped, too, arched back against him enough that his head slid warm against the skin of Steve’s shoulder. Steve squeezed him a little harder, and he shook, gasped, trembling.
“Perfect just the way you are,” Steve managed to get out, even as he slid his hand firm over Tony’s length, rocked back and forth inside him, starting to thrust in shorter, quicker movements, getting into the rhythm as he rolled his hips.
Tony gasped again, groaned, “Steve, Steve,” and then Steve could feel it as he tensed up all over and came, hot wet spurting over his fingers. And then Tony’s body was clenching up around him, spasming and clutching at him and milking him as Tony shook and shuddered in his orgasm, and it was impossible for Steve to think about anything else. Tony felt so good, and the pleasure was so intense, and just thinking about that, and feeling Tony clench up around him—and Steve let himself go and came with a low, hoarse shout of his own. The pleasure lit him up, bright and brilliant all through him, under every inch of his skin, even as he felt it center around his groin, felt it release into Tony’s body. Tony had arched back against him, he could feel his head heavy against his own shoulder, even as he felt his head drop against Tony’s back, lolling against his other shoulder. Still, the sweet needy clench of Tony’s body around him didn’t ease, the shudders kept rolling through him, making him tighten then release around Steve in waves, even as he shuddered and shook and gasped in Steve’s arms. The pleasure just got more and more intense, until finally Steve couldn’t think at all, it was like it was going on and on, his body shaking through it just to light up again. He wasn’t sure if it had been one super intense peak, or if he’d come twice nearly simultaneously by the time it finally seemed to fade—the serum had made that possible for him, but it still wasn’t exactly typical. His muscles were actually shaking by the time he could think again, his knees and thighs wobbling where they pressed into the couch cushions to hold him—well, both of them, with how Tony was still splayed over him, trembly and played out—up.
Steve tried to be graceful about it as he sank back onto his rear end on the sofa, but Tony came with him and they ended up landing a little hard, which drove Tony down onto him and made them both gasp. Tony moaned, made one of the high-pitched whining, whimpering noises he’d hotly deny outside of bed, his chest heaving, and collapsed back against Steve’s chest.
Steve still couldn’t really seem to think, and speaking was out of the question. Tony was still so hot and wet and warm around him, and he wasn’t moving away, so Steve just linked his arms around his taut belly and pulled him closer, resting his head on his shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. Steve felt good, really good, warm and goopy and soft and slow, when Tony just leaned back against him and snuggled into his shoulder and chest, leaning his head against Steve’s.
They stayed like that for a while, and Steve listened to the part of him that told him to lean in and press kisses, soft and sloppy as they were, over Tony’s collarbone, up over his neck, along his jaw to his ear, until Tony was laughing, all soft and breathy, and shivering pleasantly under each kiss. Eventually, he leaned in and their mouths ended up pressed together. The kiss went on for a long time, slow and easy and a little uncoordinated, languid and gentle even as they slipped and gasped into each other’s mouths. Eventually Steve got his hand up, slid it around the back of Tony’s head to steady him, tilting him into the kiss, and it grew warmer and deeper naturally, slow and soft and steady.
When he finally pulled away from the kiss and Tony’s hot, heady mouth, Steve’s head felt a little clearer, at least. He tilted their heads together, closed his eyes, and rubbed his thumb along Tony’s cheek, feeling the heat of his skin. “You all right?” he asked belatedly. “Not too sensitive?”
“Just sensitive in a good way, big guy,” Tony answered, a breathless, unsteady laugh in his voice.
“Mmm,” Steve agreed. He should pull out of him then, he thought, and shifted back a little. It gave him a good view of Tony, sprawled over him, spent cock lying against his hip and belly spattered with his come, panties still caught around his spread knees where his legs draped over Steve’s, one on each side of his thigh. He braced both hands on Tony’s hips, shifted him up.
Tony hissed out a breath as he moved him, then laughed a little, again, as Steve pulled free. “Oh, shit, I’m going to be a mess,” he said, and rolled to land on his knees on the couch. His knees looked a little raw and red, and Steve frowned at that. He let one hand slide across Tony’s rear, rubbed gently at one cheek. Tony was right; he was wet with come around his hole, droplets of it dripping down one rounded cheek, along his balls, his thigh. Steve bit his lip, had to swallow.
“Maybe a little,” he admitted.
Tony groaned. “It’s going to be all over the sofa,” he said.
Steve had to laugh. “Enjoy the moment, Tony,” he told him.
Tony made a face at him over his shoulder. “Enjoy the moment and end up having to enjoy the sofa smelling like semen forever,” he said.
“Wouldn’t bother me,” Steve said, smiling, partly just to get his goat, partly because it was true. He slid his hand over Tony’s cheek again, enjoying the feel of it, the weight, the way it filled up his hand. He indulged himself, let himself run his hand down between Tony’s cheeks, trail it through the wet sticky remnants of come trickling down Tony’s thighs.
“This isn’t the sort of thing I like Jarvis to have to clean,” Tony said, and well, Steve could understand that, the man had practically raised him. “And he would if he noticed it. And he’d notice it, I swear he has x-ray vision for stains—god, Steve.”
“What?” he asked. “You look good like this, and I put it there.”
Tony just grinned back at him and shook his head. “Look good like what?” he asked. “Stuffed full of you and leaking your come?”
Steve knew he’d flushed at that, more from desire than anything—the words went straight to his gut, sending off low flares of desire in his brain. “Well, yeah,” he muttered. “That’s it.”
Tony smiled a little more, and it looked almost soft. “I know, I know you like it,” he said, and crawled back over to straddle Steve again, kicked off the panties as he went, setting his warm, leaking ass square on Steve’s thigh, which made a low coil of heat curl in Steve’s groin, up through his cock. He ran one hand up over Steve’s chest, trailed his fingers along his neck, his jaw, looping the other arm around the back of his neck. “Did you want to go again?” he asked, a low purr.
Tony was sure making it tempting, but Steve hadn’t been thinking so, and he told him as much, bringing his own hand up to rub it along Tony’s cheek, back into his hair. “I’m plenty satisfied right now,” he told him, and knew his smile was turning soft and fond and probably sappy as all hell, and he didn’t care.
Tony smiled a little in return, eyelashes coming down over his eyes, and tucked his cheek into Steve’s palm, pressed it close. “You sure?” he murmured. “You only came once.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Steve told him. He felt his cheeks flush hot. “It was—I don’t know if you noticed, but it was—it was pretty intense.” God, he had no goddamn problem talking about sex half the time, and the other half he blushed and stuttered like an idiot. “For me, I mean. It went on a long time.” His legs still felt weak, actually, and that never happened to him after coming. “I—well, I’m good.” He brought his other hand up, traced it gently along the dip of Tony’s back, up over the curve of it. “How about you?” he asked, teasing a little now, hoping it would get Tony’s attention off all his blushing and stuttering, “you satisfied? Was it good for you?” He often wondered, a little, but not as much, this time—Tony’s pleasure had been so obvious, in every line of his body, in the way he had gasped and slumped against Steve afterwards, even the aftershocks that had trembled through him and were still making him shiver, a little, but he never wanted to assume, especially since sometimes Tony’s body told him things Tony’s head didn’t seem to agree with.
Tony’s smile turned secret, languid, self-aware. “Spectacular,” he murmured. “Exactly what I wanted.”
Steve smiled, too, proud. He was a little privately pleased by how easily Tony had come—no holding back, no fighting it, and no struggling with an erection or on the plateau of orgasm, just back from the peak.
“You sure know how to give it to a guy,” Tony added, with an even more knowing grin and a wink.
Predictably, Steve felt himself blush. “Well, I like ‘giving it’ to you,” he answered promptly, and reached up to take Tony’s face in his hands, fingers sliding back into his hair, and kiss him on the mouth. Tony made a soft, contented noise and leaned into it, his mouth softening beneath Steve’s even as he pressed into the kiss with a wanton, open heat. The way Tony groaned and arched up into the kiss was satisfying in a deeply warm sort of way, and his mouth felt luxurious, hot and heady and voluptuously sensual, on Steve’s, the warm weight of him, the intimate heat of him against Steve’s thigh. Steve wasn’t sure how long they kissed, again, ended up stroking his palm down over Tony’s shoulder, along his back. When they finally pulled away, Tony sighed, sounding happy, and his face was soft with it, the lines of tension fled for now, even the skin around his eyes relaxed. His face looked so much younger like that, it was striking. Steve kissed his cheek, the skin just beside his eye, his temple, and Tony smiled, his eyelashes fluttering. Steve ran his hand down along Tony’s spine, back up over his shoulder. “I guess I’d better clean you up, then,” he said, dropping his other hand to smooth it along the warm skin of Tony’s thigh. “Since you don’t want to make a mess.”
“I . . . wouldn’t say no to that,” Tony said, and grinned. “Sounds fun for you, too.”
“Looking forward to it,” Steve admitted. He slid one hand under Tony’s buttocks, hefted up him against his chest, into his arms, before getting the other arm under him too and standing up.
Tony made a surprised, startled noise, but he didn’t pull away, even as Steve pressed the heel of one hand right up against his wet, come-slick hole, firm enough to be a steady, demanding presence.
“Since you’re so worried about making a mess,” Steve murmured in Tony’s ear, circling his wrist just enough to grind his palm in against the hot, oversensitized skin. He could feel Tony’s muscles fluttering there, the overworked puffiness and heat of that sensitive little place.
Tony swore, choked into Steve’s hair, and Steve was obscurely satisfied by that, the surprise in his voice. He circled his hips down, pressed into Steve’s hand, in another second. “Jesus, Steve,” he panted, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “I. Uh. Yes. That’s. One way to do it. God, that’s—”
“Good overwhelming or not?” Steve asked, taking his first step as Tony’s fingers dug into his shoulders.
“Oh, good, good, definitely good,” Tony babbled. “That’s—nice—Jesus. Christ. Honey.”
Steve had to agree. It made heat stir deep in his belly, in his groin, as he walked across the room and felt Tony shift against him with each step, his hole leak come against his palm as his body clenched and shuddered. Not enough that he felt like going again, but—it was, well. Satisfying. Tony was awful wet, and Steve had always liked that, seeing, feeling him after, all slicked up with Steve.
Tony was still panting by the time he made it to the bathroom. Tony started for the shower as soon as Steve put him down, but he stopped him with both hands on his hips. Tony looked at him questioningly. “Bath,” Steve told him. “I want to relax. Have a slow night.”
Tony nodded, slowly, and Steve knelt to start the water, getting it just this shade of too hot, how they both liked it. He looked around for Tony’s bath oil and got it out of the cupboard, adding the scent of sandalwood to the air around them as he poured it in and mixed it with the water.
“Didn’t know you liked that stuff,” Tony said, sounding bemused but pleased as he stood watching Steve.
“It smells good,” Steve said, with a little smile. It smelled expensive, too, masculine but soft, sophisticated, out of his league, a luxury he’d never have been able to afford in his own life before everything. A little like Tony all over. He capped the oil and set it aside, then stepped into the deep bathtub, into the water, and held out his arms for Tony, who smiled and shook his head as he slid down into them.
Steve kissed him, squeezed him around the waist, then sat down on one of the benches built into the sides. The tub was set into the floor and the sort that was almost big enough to swim in. Tony just grinned and sat in his lap, moving to straddle him again with his legs spread, and Steve had no problem with that, or with kissing him again, rubbing his hands up and down his back as the tub filled up. He only stopped the water when it was up to their shoulders. Tony smiled at him and reached for the soap, over his head, but Steve caught at his wrist, pulled it back down, rubbing gently over his pulse. “Not just yet,” he told him at Tony’s raised eyebrow. “I just want to soak a while.”
“You’re serious about this relaxing thing, huh,” Tony said, smiling a little.
“Well, yes,” Steve said. “I’ve got the whole rest of the night to spend with you. It’d be nice if we could just—”
“Enjoy it together?” Tony said, still smiling.
Steve figured that had been getting a little repetitive. “Yeah,” he said, letting his hand brush along Tony’s shoulder, move up to rub gently against his jaw. He was so beautiful, maybe not traditionally, but so beautiful all the same, strong angular features and soft mouth and long-lashed eyes, his facial hair a dramatic contrast to his olive skin, tousled hair falling forward over his forehead. He still had that mussed, breathless, sated look from sex, and his body was all relaxed and loose under Steve’s hands instead of tight and tense. Steve had always thought Tony looked like a star from the pictures when he was all put together and snazzy like he managed so effortlessly, like he’d looked earlier in the evening, but like this he was even more breathtaking, soft and relaxed and warm with Steve.
Tony tilted his head a little and smiled. “What’s that look supposed to mean?” he said. “You’ll make a man self-conscious, honeymuffin.”
“I don’t mean to,” Steve said with a smile in return. “Just appreciating my fella. Thinking about what a lucky guy I am.”
Tony gave a little self-conscious laugh. “I could say the same,” he said, smoothing one hand over Steve’s shoulder. The warm touch of his palm, the rough calluses, made Steve shiver pleasantly, a warm deep feeling settle in his chest. “Look at all this in front of me, and here I get to touch, and taste you, and give you anything you want—”
Steve squeezed his hand, turning it so he could rub at Tony’s palm, gentle and just as warm. “Just you,” he told him. “That’s all I want. All I could ask for is right here.”
Tony’s smile turned rueful. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “You could stand to set your standards a little higher, you know?”
Steve sighed. “I don’t want to hear it,” he told him. He rubbed his thumb against Tony’s jaw, smiled at him, willed him to believe it. “I’m happy. Just with you.”
To Steve’s honest surprise, Tony smiled, and squeezed Steve’s hand with his own. “Me too, sunshine,” he said, all soft and hoarse. “Me too. You have no idea.”
Steve felt something warm and light bloom inside his chest, found himself smiling, widely. “If it’s anything like how I feel,” he told Tony, “it’s incredible.”
Tony smiled and shook his head, ducked it down, but Steve didn’t think it was a refusal, just Tony being skittish about declarations, like always. His breathing was unsteady, so Steve just rubbed his back, up and down, along his spine, under the water, reached up with his other hand to bring Tony’s head down to rest against his shoulder. He resisted it, at first, then relented all at once and let it lie against Steve’s shoulder with a quiet exhale, letting his hand come to rest against the inside of Steve’s other shoulder, just against his pectoral muscle. They stayed like that for a long while, and Steve found himself rubbing Tony’s back again, more of a massage, almost idly, enjoying the way he felt him relax, go soft and loose, under the touch.
Tony sighed softly, his breath catching wet and humid in the sensitive place beneath Steve’s chin. “It was a good Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it?” he said after a moment, his voice soft and low, almost musing, almost hushed.
Steve smiled, and turned his head to press a kiss to the soft, tangled curls that covered Tony’s head. “The best,” he said, and meant every word, sighing and feeling the contentment all through him, the happiness, warm, relaxing in the bath with his guy, in the sensual steam-filled sandalwood scent of the room, Tony warm and steady and very present curled against him, after everything—it felt amazing. Just like this. He’d get Tony cleaned up, in a bit, and then Tony would insist on cleaning up the couch, and they’d end up in bed together, just talking, comfortable and clean, Tony still in his arms, and eventually, they’d sleep, and Steve would wake up with Tony still beside him in bed, breathing evenly and soft and he’d feel warm all through his run, all through breakfast, because that was what waking up beside Tony did to him. Steve didn’t want Tony’s more. He wanted this.
Tony smiled against his skin, and Steve felt the glow in his chest get just a little brighter.
It really had been perfect.