Tony Stark is racing along Route 70 when he thinks he should maybe stop for some food. It's occured to him that he hasn't eaten since breakfast the day before, and he might as well stop before he gets to Vegas. He wouldn't bother, except JARVIS gets pissy when he drinks on an empty stomach, and then he'll tell Pepper, and Pepper'll do something terrible like make him sign stacks of paperwork or actually attend the next board meeting...
No, thank you.
So instead, Tony pulls off the main interstate and onto the nearest exit he sees. It takes him down a shoddy asphalt road, with seemingly no end in sight.
Huh. Maybe should've consulted the GPS first. Or unmuted JARVIS so he could've heard the warning that this road is basically barren.
But unmuting JARVIS would mean puting up with all the snark, and right now he's enjoying the blissful silence of wind rushing in his ears.
Until, that is, he starts to hear a weird grinding noise, followed by a humming, then a loud groan. The car starts sputtering, deaccelerating quickly until Tony pulls over to a stop on the side of the road.
Stark cars aren't supposed to break down. It's a rule of thumb that all his cars are in tip-top shape, running at full performance, and generally twice as good as factory-fresh.
Well, maybe he's been a little lax with the upkeep lately. He's been making renovations to both the Malibu and New York house, helping run Stark Industries, and working with R&D to create the latest line of Starktech: phones, tablets, speakers, computers, the works... Then Rhodey came for that visit, and he had to go to New York that one week, and he'd spent that week in Italy to relax after New York...
So. He hasn't had much time in the past few months to keep up on the cars, and now he's paying the price. Not exactly the first time its happened, but he's sure once he takes a look under the hood he can fix it, no problems.
Sighing, Tony pulls the hood release and steps out of the car. He'd lost his suit jacket an hour back, and the tie is already loose around his neck, so he unbuttons the wrists of the light blue dress shirt he's wearing and rolls the sleves up, before he catches the clasp and the hood springs itself up.
Tony glances down at the engine, all gleaming chrome, polished to a shine. This car is relatively new in his collection, so he hadn't made too many upgrades yet, and he's going to have to actually figure out what's wrong since JARVIS isn't really here to run quick diagnostics. He'd bring up JARVIS on his phone, just for the company, except he's sure that the AI will be pissy about being muted for the past 3 hours and he's not ready to deal with that yet.
It's only now that Tony becomes aware of how hot it is outside. He's been driving with the top down and sunglasses to shield his eyes from the wind. It's half past 4 so the sun is still high in the sky on the August day, not a cloud in sight. Now that he's not in motion, he can already feel the heat seeping into his bones, making him breathe just a little heavier and begin to sweat.
Right when Tony's about to get into the engine and really figure out what's wrong, he hears another car trundling down the road, coming towards him. It's not going very fast, and it's certainly no sports car from the way that exhaust sounds. Tony decides to ignore the driver-by and expects he'll have no trouble.
Except as the vehicle gets closer, he can hear the car slowing down further until it haults to a stop, presumably parked behind the Audi. Tensing irritably, he listens for the sound of a heavy door opening and closing shut, then footsteps on the pebbled asphalt road. Tony groans quietly to himself, ready to tell the person to fuck off, he can handle this.
Until he hears quite possibly the most attractive voice he's ever heard. Smooth tenor, full of warmth, a very slight drawl, and sounding both amused and comforting at the same time.
"Need any help?" the mystery man asks, and Tony straightens up and steps around the hood to get a good look at Mr. Perfect Voice.
Maybe he should've expect that.
Six foot two of pure American man, Mr. Perfect Voice is. He's got a handsome face, square jaw and blue, blue eyes. And sculpted muscles that deserve medals - not overly bulging from his body but definitely there.
Tony was so not prepared for this right now. The guy is even wearing a red-and-white button-down under denim overalls, and a blue ball cap with the letter "A" embroidered in it.
Jesus fucking christ, Tony wants to climb him like a tree.
"I can take a look, if you need. I fix cars in my garage for a living, pretty good with a wrench," the blond adds with a slight grin, revealing a set of straight, pearly white teeth.
Fuck his entire life, Tony is so not above playing stupid to watch this guy bend over his bumper and check under the hood.
"Uh, yeah, sure," Tony says, and then mentally kicks himself. "I mean, I think I could figure it out, but if you're offering, I'm not going to say no," he adds with a smile of his own.
The man smiles slightly, walking closer, but before he walk around Tony to look under the hood, he sticks out a hand.
"Steve," he says, making a point to grab Tony's hand and shake it twice.
"I'm Tony. Nice to meet you, Steve," Tony replies, and his grin is like a sharks.
"Likewise," Steve replies, and he reaches into a pocket to pull out a blue, star-spotted hankercheif (seriously? Tony thinks to himself) as he walks around to the hood.
"You've got a real nice car here, Tony," Steve says, immediately pocketing the hankerchief once he sees how clean the engine is. He leans over and runs his fingers over the chassis gently, almost seductively, and Tony seriously can't be blamed for leaning back and checking out the guys ass.
Seriously. It looks great even through the overalls.
Licking his lips, Tony replies, "thanks, I like to keep my cars at full performance. This type of thing usually doesn't happen to me."
"Yeah, I'm sensing you're the kind of guy to take care of his things. I can tell right away that you need a new timing belt and the pulley assembly is shot. I have the right tools in my garage, but it's about fifteen minutes down the road and I might need to keep 'er overnight."
Thinking quick, Tony debates the pros and cons of just fixing it up himself using Steve's tools and getting to Vegas tonight, or spending the night in a potentially run-down town, trying to get Steve in his bed.
Hell, he's been to Vegas plenty of times.
"That sounds... Well, not great, but I'm amenable. Be much easier for you, since you know what you're doing," Tony says, and Steve leans back up to slam the hood shut.
"It'd be my pleasure," Steve says, grinning at Tony, "there's a nice motel once you get into town, and a diner. I can come back with my tractor to tow 'er later, and give you a ride into town right now to get you settled in. You might wanna put the top down, though."
"Of course," Tony agrees, and gets back in the car to turn on just the battery. He holds the button for the convertible roof and waits until it's settled before he rolls up the windows and locks it up. He hasn't brought an overnight bag, figured he would just get whatever he needed in Vegas when he got there, so he comes out holding his keys in one hand and phone in the other.
Steve smiles at him again, and walks back around to his beat-up red truck. Tony would guess it's from the nineties, definetly a Ford from the emblem on the grill, and it's seen its fair share of mileage. Then he notices that there's a large white dog sitting in the passenger seat, panting out the open window. He barks when he sees Tony, and Tony resists the urge to grimace.
"Sorry, that's Bucky, I'll get him into the back for you, just a sec," Steve says, running around the passenger side of his truck. "Get back, now. C'mon, Buck, get in the back and lay down, good boy."
Steve stands there holding the door for Tony, who flashes him another grin before getting in. He'll worry about the dog hair on his gray slacks later, maybe this town Steve lives in at least has a clothing store.
Once Steve shuts the door behind him, and gets in his own seat, Bucky apparenly takes that as invitation to sit up and start sniffing madly at Tony, shoving his cold nose behind his ear and against the shirt, which immediately dampens. Tony purses his lips in distaste. He catches Steve looking at him out of the corner of his eye, chuckling. Tony resists the urge to glare.
"Not a dog-lover?" Steve asks, chuckling, as he turns the key and the car thunders to life with one hand, and shooshes Bucky back down with the other.
"No, I'm... never really around dogs," Tony says, and doesn't mention that any of the dogs he knows are incredibly well-trained as either show dogs or guard dogs for rich acquaintences. He'd once thought about getting a cat, but finds it much easier to stick with Dum-E and U and Butterfingers. They're almost like pets, anyway.
"Ah, okay," Steve replies, "you don't seem the type, anyway."
"The 'type'? What is that supposed to mean?" Tony asks, halfway offended, frown on his face.
"I don't know, you've just... You've got an awful nice car and that's a fancy watch. We don't get a lot of visitors in town, especially not ones as nicely-dressed as you. What were you doing pulling onto this exit, anyway? Nothin' down here bu-."
"It was an accident," Tony quickly interjects, "I decided to stop for food and pulled off on the nearest exit I saw. I was just thinking about turning around when the car broke down. I was actually headed for Vegas."
"Now that seems more your type," Steve grins at him, and Tony makes a show of huffing and checking his watch. "Well, like I said, there's a nice diner in town. Peggy makes a great apple pie for desert."
Tony breathes out a laugh. Of course Steve eats at the town diner and knows the owner or whatever by name. Of course he eats apple pie, Mr. All American.
"I'll be sure to check it out, but I don't eat pie," Tony says, and bites his lip a second before going for it, "in fact, why don't you join me? Be nice, the company."
Steve turns his smile back on Tony, blue eyes sparkling. "Sounds great, Tony. But if I join you, I'm going to make you try the pie."
Tony finally gives in to the urge to roll his eyes. It's not like Steve can see behind his sunglasses, anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, they're sitting across from each other in a booth of one of the most cliche diners Tony has ever seen. It's disgusting how cliche all of this is, but Tony's willing to look past it if he can get into Steve's, uh... overalls.
So far there's been nothing indicating that he isn't interested in Tony, so Tony plans to milk that until he either succeeds or doesn't.
"So, seriously," the inventor says, stirring an obscene amount of sugar into his coffee, "do you realize you're like, a perfect example of Mr. America?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "I don't think there's any perfect example of a 'Mr. America', Tony."
"No, for real. You know the owner of the diner by name, and you just said 'give me two of the regular'. You eat apple pie and fix up cars in your garage on the side of... what, exactly? You have a dog named Bucky and drive a classic American truck. You're even wearing red, white, and blue. I would be a little put off if I wasn't so turned on by it."
"What was that last part?" Steve says. Tony can see he's grinning as he sips on his sweet tea.
Tony smirks back, sipping his own coffee. "You're wearing red, white, and blue?"
Steve shakes his head, ready to reply that no, he meant the last part, until Peggy walks over with their meals. She tells them it's on the house, and Steve is sure he catches Tony biting his cheek to hold in a laugh. Peggy's always been great, even after they tried dating and broke up terribly back in high school.
"Thanks, Peg," Steve says with a grateful smile. It's not that he couldn't afford to pay for the meals, but he does a lot around here for... well, everyone, and sometimes it is nice to feel appreciated.
"Let me guess - ex-girlfriend?" Tony says. It sounds fairly condescending.
Steve rolls his eyed good-naturedly. "We dated for a couple of years back in high school. Didn't really work out, we were too good of friends for it."
Tony hums in response, Steve watches as he pops a couple of fries into his mouth. "Sounds like me and my personal assistant."
That reminds Steve that he really knows nothing about this mysterious man, other than he's gorgeous and also kind of a jackass. "You have a personal assistant? What for?" Steve asks, genuinely curious.
"Uh... To assist me with things?" The reply is both incredibly vague and incredibly dickish.
"Whatever you say, Tony," Steve replies, shaking his head again.
They eat in silence for a few minutes. It's surprisingly comfortable, at least for Steve, for all that he's known Tony maybe a half hour. He listens to the diner around him, catches snippets of conversations from Mrs. Parker and her nephew, between Nick and Phil. Every now and then he glances at Tony with amusement, whose devouring his burger and fries with an attitude like he hasn't eaten in days.
"This is really, really good," Tony states when he's halfway finished.
"No need to sound so surprised. I told you it was nice. I come here more often than I should, probably. I try not to take advantage though... someone always tries to pay for me."
Tony lets out a laugh. "I'm sensing you're some sort of town hero, over here. So what else do you do, Steve? I know you fix cars, but that's pretty much it."
"I'll tell you if you answer why you actually have a personal assistant," Steve counters.
Tony purses his lips, but his eyes are sparkling. "Playing dirty, huh? Fine. I'm a CEO of a company that mass produces computers, tablets, other kinds of gadgets. We work with the public and sometimes get private contracts for security systems and defense for the Government."
"Huh," Steve says, honestly impressed. "That sounds real neat, Tony. Would I have heard of it?"
Tony hesitates for a moment, long enough that Steve considers letting the topic drop, but Tony speaks up a minute or so later. "I'm Tony Stark."
"Tony who?" Steve asks. He's not trying to sound like an asshole, but he honestly doesn't know who Tony is.
"...Tony Stark? CEO of Stark Industries?" Steve can't help but feel that Tony sounds a little relieved that Steve doesn't recognize the name.
"...I've never heard of it," Steve says politely. He's sure that it must mean something, but it certainly doesn't mean anything to him.
"That's... not usual for me. Please tell me you own a television. That is travesty against America, Steve, every person should own a television. You're ruining the image I have in my mind of you sitting back with a beer and watching Wheel of Fortune on weeknights."
"Of course I have a TV!" Steve insists, "I just don't use it much unless a game is on. I prefer to read. Or sketch. Or work on the farm or feed the animals or fix up something."
At that, Tony starts laughing so hard that he catch quite catch his breath. It's Steve's turn purse his lips.
"Oh my god, you actually farm and have animals. Why didn't I think of this? Of course you do. Like I said, Mr. America."
"Well, we can't all be the CEO of a company," Steve says. At this point he's not really sure why he's putting up with Tony any longer. The man is far past the point where it should be offensive. Surprisingly, he's not as upset as he should be, and instead has to hold back from laughing along with Tony.
They chat amicably for the rest of the meal, and Steve finds out that Tony actually hasn't eaten in days, or for at least a day, when Tony finishes off his plate and steals the rest of Steve's fries. He tries not to sound too disapproving, but Tony just smirks at him.
He also finds out that Tony's assistant is named Pepper, and they apparently dated for a few months the year before but she couldn't handle 'his lifestyle'. Unsure of what that means, but willing to let the subject change, Steve shares that he's pretty much a handy-man and helps out with whatever he can in town. It comes out that he's on first-name basis with everyone in town, which makes Tony laughs at him again, especially when Mrs. Parker and her nephew stop on their way out to wish him well and ask him to join them for dinner next week. Tony smiles charmingly at them both when Steve introduces him, and Mrs. Parker smiles slyly and extends the invite if Tony will still be around.
It's then that Peggy brings out two slices of pie with a heavy dollop of cream on top. Tony pokes at his with a fork for a minute before Steve convinces him to actually try a bite.
"You know," Tony says around a bite, "I'm so not usually a fan of pie. I prefer donuts, usually, but this is making me reconsider my list of favorite sweets."
"Again, you sound so surprised. I told you it was good," Steve says with a grin, choosing not to inform Tony that he's got a bit of cream stuck in his immaculate goatee.
They both polish off their slices when Steve begins to make motions to leave. He's got to go to the general store today to get more bread and fresh lunch meats, and he'd like to start on Tony's car as soon as possible. They make it into to Steve's truck without further incident.
"Well, Mr. American," starts Tony while buckling in his seatbelt, "What the hell is your last name, anyway? I've got to ask if there's a store that sells clothes around."
"Rogers. Steve Rogers. The general store has some shirts and pants, but nothing like you're wearing now. Hope that's alright. I'm actually headed there now. I could take you before I drop you off at the motel."
Tony grimaces at the word motel, but agrees. It takes just three minutes of driving to get down the road for the store, and after about twenty minutes of walking around, Steve is holding a bag full of groceries for himself, a bag of snacks Tony insisted on buying, and another bag that he's carrying for Tony, who decided to stock up on cliche trinkets.
When they entered the store, Tony cooed at "how quaint" the store was and ended up buying several raunchy bumper stickers, a gaudy American flag themed cowboy hat, no less than four cheesy t-shirts (that Steve wishes the store didn't stock in the first place), three postcards, an incredibly ugly (in Steve's opinion) pair of sunglasses, two homemade pairs of earrings and matching necklaces for his assistant, and something he could sleep in for the night at the motel.
Teddy, the teenage cashier, looks astounded at the amount he'd ended up ringing. Steve's torn between being grateful for the business on behalf of the owner, Phil, and wishing Tony hadn't wasted quite so much money because the store is, admittedly, overpriced.
"You're kinda loony," Steve states when they make it back into the car. Tony just smirks and replaces the ball-cap Steve's wearing with his newly purchased cowboy hat.
"Much better," Tony decides, placing the ball-cap on the dash and tapping at his phone, "and by better I mean much more cliche."
Steve rolls his eyes and hides a smile, and drops Tony off at the motel just a minute later. He helps Tony unload his purchases and chats with Sam while Tony's card is charged for the room, then takes Tony's keys and gives him his home number so the man can call him when he wakes up, so they can get breakfast.
Steve hopes Tony's car will be done by then, but he's not entirely sure.
"You know," Tony says when he wanders into Steve's car barn, hours later. Steve rolls out on the creeper from under the watch him poke around on the workbench before he swings himself up to sit on it. "I'm not actually as incompotent as I may have let on."
It's almost midnight, and Tony looks perfectly at home sitting on Steve's workbench in a pair of checkered sleeppants, his dress shoes, and a t-shirt with the general store's logo on it. He looks just at home here as he did by the Audi in slacks and a dress-shirt. It's... unsettling. He's also sipping from a tumbler of whiskey that Steve provided, declaring the alcohol to be "passable".
Steve raises an eyebrow at him, "y'sure? Because when Sam called me and said he was kicking you out of the motel for messing with the air conditioning, then said it was working twice as good as before but he still had to kick you out on principle, I wasn't tipped off at all."
Tony laughs, throwing an old rag at the blond man, who bats it away in the air. "Fuck you."
"Mm," Steve rolls back under the car with a newly fitted socket, "maybe later."
Steve grins up at the chrome above him at the lack of response. It must take Tony a minute to recover, but when he does Steve hears him huff.
"Maybe I just didn't feel like doing the dirty work myself. Maybe I don't like to roll around under cars and get all dirty."
"No, you seem more the type to roll around inside the cars," Steve replies, still grinning above him as he loosens a bolt.
Tony sputters indignantly. "You're pretty feisty. I'll have you know I could easily fix it myself, and would've enjoyed doing so under... other circumstances. Like in my Malibu garage."
"What other circumstances?" Steve questions, awaiting the reply eagerly.
"Well if you hadn't been quite so good-looking I'd have probably asked to borrow your tools and been in Vegas already, to be honest," Tony says, "I mostly agreed to let you take a look so I could get a look at your ass, and now look where we are."
It's Steve's turn to quiet down, flushing and glad, now, that he's under the car. Flirting is one thing - it's harmless and easy, but he's not quite sure what to do with the idea that Tony actually finds him as attractive as he finds Tony. Much as he hates to admit it, it's been a little while since he's slept with anyone, male or female.
Steve tenses up when he hears Tony place down his glass and hop off the workbench. The footsteps come closer and closer until Steve can sense Tony right at his feet. He has a minute to compose himself when Tony reaches down to grab his ankles and roll him out under the car. Then he has a few seconds to breathe before the brunette straddles his legs and grins filthily down at him.
"We should really have sex," Tony declares, gaze heavy.
Steve licks his lips, managing to hold onto the socket. No one else he's ever met has been quite so forward about it, and it's doing uncomfortable things to Steve's nether regions.
"Sure," Steve agrees easily, "but I should probably finish this up first."
Tony shakes his head, closes his hands around Steve's wrists and presses them to the cold concrete floor. When he leans down to press a kiss to Steve's lips, Steve opens his mouth easily to Tony's eager tongue, noting that the man tastes very faintly like Steve's toothpaste and very much Steve's whiskey. It shouldn't be such a turn on.
"I have a bed," Steve manages when Tony pulls away. Tony smirks at him, heavy-lidded eyes full of mischief, and scrambles up to offer Steve a hand.
"Jesus fucking christ, I have wanted to jump you since I saw you, with your stupid sexy overalls and sexy voice, how the fuck are your arms real?" Tony's babbling, he knows he's babbling, and Steve just smiles at him. They've both already lost their shirts and shoes, and the only thing ruining Tony's view now is Steve's faded blue-jeans that he'd changed into since Tony last saw him.
Tony captures hip own bottom lip between his teeth as Steve slides down Tony's body, holding in a groan. His hips buck up without his consent, seeking pressure against his hard cock, but Steve pulls himself away. Tony writhes beneath him, barely resisting the urge to pout.
"Stop that," Steve murmers, trailing his hands up Tony's thighs to the waist of Tony's pants to pull them and his underwear down his hips, "you're making this very hard."
Barely resisting a terrible pun ("You're making me very hard"), Tony huffs and goes still for just long enough for the offending items to be peeled off and tossed on the floor. He then urges Steve up to lick at his lips, which open eagerly so that Tony can slide his tongue inside. When Tony's certain Steve is distracted enough, he manages to flip them over so he's straddling those massive thighs, and grins down.
"Well, now, what shall we do with you?" Tony muses. His hands are already at Steve's belt, undoing the buckle and and button.
Steve raises his eyebrows. Tony takes it as a challenge.
Sitting up further, Tony pushes himself backward down to straddle Steve's knees, and mouths along the blond's abdomen. He's pretty sure it'd be a crime not to get his mouth on them at least once.
Steve moans lowly, trying to shimmy so that Tony's mouth is positioned more or less over his cock. Taking pity, he finally helps Steve shuck his jeans and briefs (Tony's shocked he's they're not white, rather a nice blue), and palms over the hardened flesh.
Acting on impulse, he leans down to tongue at the head of Steve's dick, sucking lightly and just long enough to get a small cry of frustration out of Steve, before he pulls back with a grin at Steve's blown pupils.
"So, how do you wanna do this, cowboy?" Tony leers. It's not his best line, but Steve chuckles anyway. Probably out of pity.
"I don't... I don't have anything," Steve declares, and maybe it's Tony's imagination, but he sounds sort of disappointed.
Tony smirks, rolling off of Steve to dash across the hall to the guest bedroom, rifling through his earlier purchases. When he returns with a tube of lube and a box of condoms, Tony can see a small smile on Steve's face.
"I like to plan ahead," Tony says as he crawls back on top of Steve's loose form, "or maybe it's wishful thinking. So, I ask again - how d'you wanna do this?"
"Uh, I'm okay with whatever you wan't'do. 'F you wanna fuck me. Or I could fuck you? If you like that. Or anything, really," Steve says, and Tony smiles softly, because it's clear that Steve hasn't done this in a while. All that sass earlier, and now he's fumbling and awkward. It's too adorable (and hot) for words.
Leaning forward so that his mouth is brushing against Steve's ear, Tony nibbles on Steve's earlobe before whispering, "I tend to break tradition, so to avoid the cliche of riding a cowboy, I'd really like to get in you."
A small shiver works its way through Steve's body, and he nods hazily. Tony thinks he looks pleased - maybe he prefers bottoming. Hot.
Sliding back down, Tony situates himself between knees and pops the cap of the lube, wondering the best stragetical way to go about this. If his assumptions are correct and Steve hasn't done this in a while, and he didn't even have lube which suggests he doesn't play around too often, he's going to have to spend a bit of time on prep. That's fine with him.
"Hey," Tony says as he reaches his hand down to press against Steve's hole. He suddenly realized that he's not actually sure how old Steve is. He'd estimate Steve to be mid-twenties like himself, but it's a very important question right now. If Steve's horny enough and not unexpectedly, like, thirty-six, Tony can get him to come twice, no problems.
"What?" Steve asks, blinking hazily, as Tony's taken the moment of silence to slip a finger inside. He's so cute.
"Just wondering if I can make you come twice," Tony grins, "because I know I'm going to and I don't wanna be selfish." Steve groans lowly, nodding his assent.
"Excellent," Tony replies, and then leans down to take Steve's dick in his mouth as the same time that he slides another finger inside. Steve's back arches, but being that Tony's a genius, he'd anticipated it and moved his head back in response.
"Mm, Tony," Steve pants, along with other nonsense, body building tension. Tony suddenly (and stupidely) thinks that his name sounds better falling from Steve's lips than he has ever heard.
What the fuck is this man doing to him?
Once Tony gets Steve to spill across his tongue, Steve's body gets loose enough that he manages to stretch Steve to where he's comfortable enough to fuck him.
"Ready, baby?" Tony asks. He cringes because he tends to overdo it with the names when he doesn't mean to, but Steve looks dazed and flushed and simply nods eagerly.
"Face to face or behind? It'd be better for you if I'm behind, I think."
Steve bites his lips and makes motions to turn over, and Tony swears it kills some of his brain cells. This is how he prefers, really, but he likes to give his partners a choice. When Steve's settled on his stomach, Tony nudges him to get a pillow underneath his hips.
"Okay?" Tony asks, and his brain breaks again when Steve breathes a low 'yes, please'. Tony finally, finally slips a condom on and lines himself up, sure he can't wait anymore. When he pushes in and Steve's body gives way, the noise Steve makes is something Tony swears to put in his top five sexiest noises of all time.
Tony takes it slow, content for once to let his orgasm build up and slowly take him over. Steve makes all these amazing noises, moans and gasps and encouraging pleas for Tony to do it harder, faster, but Tony holds himself back.
When he finally comes, it's just like the feeling he gets flying down the highway with the top down. A steady rush of adreneline that he knows will inevitably end, but the endorphins from the ride last you long enough that you don't mind when you reach your exit - you just wish the ride could've lasted a little longer.
Steve does end up coming twice. It's hot enough that Tony finds himself easily hardening again, and Steve is considerate enough to jerk him off while they kiss messily.
Eventually, Steve gets up to find a washcloth. Tony mourns the loss of the pliant, loose-limbed Steve just long enough for Steve to make it back. Once they've both cleaned themselves up enough, Tony stays awake long enough to run his hands all over Steve's body as the larger man drifts off.
Eventually Tony himself drifts off, to the sounds of Steve's steady breathing.
Tony wakes up the next morning far too warm. It only takes a couple of seconds for him to put together the pieces of where he is and why. He can't tell what time it is, just knows the sun is bright, filtered through checkered (checkered!) curtains. The naked chest, blond hair, and blue eyes of the man he can see help to jog his memory. As does the ache in his thighs and the general looseness of his limbs.
Tony smirks in Steve's direction before rolling on his back to kick the covers down to his hips, surprisingly warm. Steve is like a furnace, and his comforter is thick cotton. Tony's fine with being warm, but not when it becomes so stifling.
After a full body stretch that ends in an embarrassing groan, Tony decides to avoid any awkwardness by rolling back over, pushing Steve onto his back, and draping himself half over the broad chest.
"Mornin'," Steve says, chuckling. Steve manages a strech of his own, but it's hard to do it fully with the CEO half on top of him.
"Good morning, you mean," Tony replies, with a lazy grin. "Do you have a weird thing about just-woke-up-sex? Because I'm pretty sure I can't resist."
Steve laughs, reaching his arm up to pull Tony's head up by his hair so they can kiss. It's gentle, just presses of lips and small nips until Tony licks across Steve's lips to deepen it, his hips grinding a little against Steve's muscled thigh. He's not quite there yet, but he will be in soon, and Steve is definetely catching up.
A couple of minutes later, Tony has managed to get Steve's briefs off (he'd insisted on putting them back on when he returned to get a washcloth from the bathroom last night, like Tony wasn't going to try for morning sex), and they're grinding together, rolling their hips. Steve keeps making his noises that go straight to Tony's cock, that make him want to quicken the pace until they're both breathless, but he likes the lazy pace they've set too much to worry about it.
"Oh god, Tony," Steve pants, and Tony grins and ducks his head to nip at Steve's neck. He's about to reply and try for some dirty talk, when suddenly, the phone starts ringing.
It's not the chime of a cellphone, or the soft sounds of a modern cordless phone, but the loud, incessant ringing of an old-fashioned phone with a cord. Groaning, Tony tries to keep Steve in the bed, but Steve is chuckling and kisses the top of Tony's head before he slides out from underneath him.
"I know you aren't leaving me in this bed by myself with all this going on. I know you aren't because if you are I will put all my strength into dragging your ass back here and making it mine."
Unfortunately, instead of cowering and returning, Steve just laughs and grabs a towel from the linen closet before wandering into the bathroom.
"Don't even think about followin' me, the shower isn't big enough," Steve says before he shuts the door, just as the answering machine goes off. Tony's surprised he has one.
"ROGERS," a male voice sounds out loud. "What is this Sam tells me about you offering to take some pretty boy home last night after Sam kicked him out? Don't play with me, I know you're awake. Did you get it in? I've been waiting for that dry spell to end. Do you even have condoms? Are you being sa-"
Tony's already cracking up on the bed, so he misses Steve running out of the bathroom naked to make it to the phone until the voice abruptly cuts off.
"Clint," Steve answers the phone. Tony can see half of him through the doorjam, broad shoulders leading down to a tapered waist and long, muscular legs. He starts to tune out the words Steve is speaking and instead focuses on the way Steve's flushed red, speaking in a steady and serious tone.
Without a second thought, Tony moves from the bed as quietly as possible and makes his way across the hall to the open kitchen. It just so happens that Steve nervously looks over his shoulder to catch Tony leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face.
Moving forward, Tony slides up against Steve's back and kisses his shoulder, hands coming around to rest low on the blond's stomach. He can hear Steve give a hitch in breath as he slides his hands down to find Steve still half-hard.
Oh yes, Tony thinks, he can work with this.
Steve resists, at first, when Tony tries to urge him to turn around. After a moment of struggling, he eventually sighs and follows Tony's hands, still stuttering into the phone even as Tony drops to his knees and reaches up to grab Steve's hips.
When Tony takes him in his mouth, Steve's head thunks back against the wall, narrowly avoiding the phone's base as he bites his lip. Tony can faintly hear the man, Clint, still chatting away on the phone. He wonders how long it'll take for Steve to give it away with some inappropriate noises, or by abruptly hanging up.
It's not that Tony's trying to be cruel, but Steve did try to leave him to take care of his own morning wood, and that deserves a little payback.
Tony sucks his way down as far as he can while Steve mutters something that he thinks was supposed to be agreement to the man on the phone. His hand that he isn't using to hold Steve's hip in place comes up to grab his balls, rolling and squeezing them gently.
A few moments later, Tony pulls back again to take a few breaths before he lowers himself further and concentrates hard on letting Steve's cock slip into his throat. Steve apparently can't help himself and makes a cut-off keening noise, and suddenly the man on the phone goes silent.
Tony has to pull off of Steve to laugh when the man starts shouting loud enough for him to hear. He makes out phrases like "ARE YOU SERIOUS, RIGHT NOW?" and "HE'S STILL THERE?"
"Sorry, Clint, gotta go," Steve says, hanging up abruptly on the mans tirade and glaring down at Tony, whose still on his knees and trying to hold back laughter.
"That wasn't nice," Steve states, "Clint's been one of my best friends since I was in grade school."
"It wasn't nice of you to try to leave me to myself ten minutes ago, either. So I guess we're even now," Tony replies with a smirk. Steve huffs and makes motions to move, but Tony reaches up and manages to push Steve back against the wall.
It isn't that difficult, since Steve goes quiet willingly.
"If it's all the same, I think I'd like to make it up to you," Tony says, smirking and looking up through his lashes.
Steve swallows thickly, but regains his composure quickly. "Of course you should do that. I might even make it up to you myself."
"Of course," Tony agrees, right before he takes Steve back into his mouth. Even after last night, Tony's not totally in practice with this - the truth is it's been a little while since he hooked up with a guy, and even longer since he'd offered up his mouth for it, but something about this man makes Tony want to do all sort of dirty, depraved things to him. He thinks it's because Steve seems so.. wholesome, that he just feels the need to mess him up a little.
Steve either doesn't mind the sloppiness or doesn't know how sloppy it really is, if the way he moans and grips Tony's hair is any indication. Luckily he's holding himself back from thrusting into his mouth, which Tony is grateful for.
A few minutes later, Steve finally comes with a hoarse groan, and Tony swallows it down quickly without really thinking about it. Steve is panting heavily against the wall, and it takes a full minute (so he counted, so what?) for him to recover enough to open his eyes.
Steve grins down at Tony. "I was lying about the shower being too small, earlier. Why don't I help you take care of things in there?"
Stumbling their way to the shower, Tony puts the water as hot as he can stand it before reaching up to kiss Steve, letting the man taste himself on Tony's tongue. Steve retaliates by turning Tony to face the spray of water and trailing his hands down the brunettes slick body to grab his dick.
Steve has big hands. Big, warm, steady, perfectly calloused hands that feel wonderful around him. So wonderful that he finds himself wondering if he was somehow meant to have gone down the wrong road, somehow meant to have his car break down so that it could lead to ths moment. Tony doesn't usually believe in fate, prefers to think he forges his own destiny, but mind-melting orgasms will make you think some crazy things.
Hours later, after Steve made them deliciously fluffy omelettes with fresh eggs (from his own chickens, which Tony marvels at), Tony helped Steve feed the chickens, (and the goat, sheep, and two cows) and even went for a ride through the fields on Steve's tractor, they're working side-by-side in the Steve's "garage", fixing up Tony's Audi. Bucky the dog is sitting in the shade of the barn, panting with the heat of the day pressed in all around them.
Steve looks really good all sweaty, in a white t-shirt. Tony's beginning to think there isn't a time that Steve doesn't look good.
It's surprisingly pleasant - they banter back and forth, working almost seamlessly together. Steve manages to keep Tony entertained enough that he doesn't mind that it takes them five hours when it would've normally taken Tony two or three.
In fact, it's so pleasant that when Steve declares that they're done, tells Tony to turn the key, and the car purrs to life, Tony's heart sinks. Just a little bit. It's a foreign feeling, but one he can tell he doesn't like very much.
Grinning, Steve closes the hood and comes around to the drivers side. The top is back down, so he crosses his arms and leans right on the door, down in Tony's personal space. "Well, that wasn't so bad. Free of charge, even."
Tony tries to grin back, but it doesn't feel real, even to him.
"You know..." Tony starts, not really sure where he's going with it. He'll make something up on the fly - it's what he's good at. "My car could probably... also use an oil change. Maybe transmission fluid, too. A whole tune-up, even! I mean, we're here, right? And you have all the stuff-"
"Tony," Steve inturrupts, which the brunette is grateful for because he was starting to babble, "if you want to stay longer, you're more than welcome to. I know you were on your way to Vegas yesterday but maybe we could... could go over to the next town and get some dinner later? They have a pretty fancy restauraunt, over there. And a movie theater. If that's something you're interested in."
"Oh thank fucking god," Tony replies, head thunking back against the seat, "I thought it was just me. I don't know what the fuck you're doing to me, but all I know is I definitely don't want to leave yet."
Steve smiles, a small intimate smile that makes something flutter in Tony's chest. "Are you sure the casinos and showgirls won't miss you too much? Or you won't miss them?"
Tony smiles back, eyes lighting up. "I've been to Vegas plenty of times, and I never really have time to get out and see movies. That could be... fun."
18 months later, after plenty of weekend visits, extended trips that Tony drags Steve along on, and meetings of all the important people they both care for, Tony manages to convince Steve to move in with him in the Malibu house. It takes a lot of pushing from Pepper - she's sick of needing Tony in Malibu when he's a few hours away with Steve. Plus, Tony is sick of having to drive three hours anytime he wants to see his... partner.
Steve agrees, as long as he can bring Bucky. Tony agrees to that, but insists on getting a cat. He names him America, mostly to make fun of when they first met, but Steve just laughs about it.
Steve ends up getting Clint to take over the farm, but has to shut down the car barn, since Clint is shit at wrenching. Mostly everyone from Steve's town is happy for him, even if it means they have to find someone new to fix up their cars.
The couple makes a point to visit together once a month to eat at Peggy's diner, so Steve can meet up with his friends and keep up on the town. Tony doesn't mind as much as he thought he might - he's learned over the past year and a half that he'd do a lot for Steve, and he's gotten much more sentimental since they started dating.
It was Tony's idea, actually, that they always make sure to order the apple pie.