Tony Stark never takes risks.
Okay, scratch that. Tony Stark always takes risks, shitloads of risks. That should be his middle name instead of Edward: Anthony Risk-taker Stark. Except then his initials would spell ARS and he’d never hear the end of that one.
So add a footnote. * There. Tony Stark never takes certain, specific risks.* (*with his dick, or anyone else’s.)
It all started when he was a kid. Not the sex, obviously, but the awareness that sex could kill you. The bold letters screamed from magazine covers on newsstands: AIDS: The Growing Threat, New Health Crisis! EPIDEMIC! Then, a boy near his age was all over those headlines, unfairly expelled from school because he’d contracted the virus from a transfusion. And then one of his father’s friends, a brilliant scientist at Stark Industries who’d always let Tony mess with prototypes at his desk and brought him treats like the awesome uncle he never had, got sick. Very sick. And nothing could be done to make him well, even with Howard Stark’s money and resources and contacts and all the red ribbons in the world. Nothing.
Tony, who hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, or a boy either, was petrified.
He looked up research data on CSNET on the computer he’d built himself and knew more about risk factors and transmission vectors than most doctors. Even though he didn’t have any prospects, he took handfuls of condoms from the infirmary at boarding school and then tossed them out and grabbed more each month, in case the expiration dates were too optimistic. When he finally made it to the pants-off stage with another person, Tony was 15.
“Have you done this before?” Tony asked, and Stacy had looked up from between his thighs on the bed and squinted at him, and he figured out then that this was probably not a thing you were supposed to ask college women. “Uh, never mind.”
And then Tony lost his first chance to experience a blowjob because she balked at the idea of a condom.
“But I have flavors!” Tony said, voice cracking as he flicked through the bedside drawer, but she just shook her head. “Look. Strawberry, watermelon, banana...banana split, this one says. Grape. Grape’s good. Everybody loves grape.”
“That’s okay, Tony, really,” Stacy said, pulling her sweater on over her light blue bra, the first bra he’d seen in person, as she slid off the edge of the bed. “Um. I have to cram anyway. I have an exam tomorrow.”
So maybe he was being paranoid and teenagers who didn’t shoot heroin weren’t high-risk, but still.
Later, he’d steer whoever’s mouth was near his junk upward, pull them into a kiss instead. He didn’t have a problem with kissing or handjobs; they weren’t statistically risky, but anything else? Forget it, unless a layer of latex was involved, and most people thought a rubber for oral sex was, well, weird.
“You know, you don’t need that,” Amanda said when he’d carefully arranged a dental dam while she fidgeted under him in bed, her hands twisting in his hair. “I mean, I’ve been tested.”
“No glove, no love!” Tony replied with a wink.
He was out of grad school, and Magic Johnson had just been in the news for contracting HIV, and if a guy like Magic could get the virus, he could, too, besides, he doubted Amanda, or Scott, or José, or Lisa, had been tested that morning. As much as he enjoyed sleeping with Amanda and Scott and José and Lisa, and he enjoyed the hell out of it, he didn’t want to sleep with everybody they’d slept with, too. Unless it involved condoms. Lots of condoms.
And he got plenty of compliments for his stamina, so he supposed a layer of wrapping probably helped with that, anyway.
Tony was Stark Industries’ golden boy. He worked hard and played hard. He only had time for one-night stands, but he played them safe, every time. It didn’t matter how fucked-up drunk he was, he wasn’t soused enough to swap fluids. There were no exceptions. None. Ever. The lowered risk of a paternity suit was an added bonus. There had already been one scare, but it hadn’t been his, and Tony gave spermicidal condoms the credit for that.
And so it went, for years. Tony did everything. With a parade of people and sometimes several at once, but always sealed behind a layer of latex. He wouldn’t give a blowjob without one, and well, his numerous bedmates accepted that Tony Stark had quirks. Smart billionaires were almost required to be eccentric. So he didn’t like to be handed things and he didn’t swap intimate fluids. At least he wasn’t scrubbing the labels off of canned goods or wearing Kleenex boxes for slippers like Howard Hughes.
“I’m on the pill,” Pepper murmured against his collarbone as Tony produced a condom. “Though I don’t know why. I haven’t even had a real date for a couple of years. I have this horribly demanding job that takes all my time, you see...”
“Okay,” Tony replied softly, “And I’m sorry about the free time. But it’s...I’m just really, really, careful.” Pepper had looked at him disbelievingly, since she’d just seen him dive from the roof of a Caribbean hotel into a pool wearing the suit, and never mind the fact that he’d taken the thing so high into the atmosphere that it had frozen, but she didn’t argue the point. “Besides, I don’t know if there are still traces of palladium in my system. You could be contaminated.”
And okay, that was unlikely too, but habits were hard to break when they were more than habits. Tony had a thing. He was a pretty lucky guy, but he wasn’t willing to gamble here.
Pepper had nodded, and by the time they’d been exclusive for a while, Tony was thinking about maybe forgoing the latex, at least for oral sex - he knew there were no detectable traces of anything hazardous on his end, and he knew Pepper wasn’t seeing anyone else either; they’d both been tested, and he thought about it a lot, because she was amazing. But then Pepper was breaking up with him as kindly as anyone had ever broken up with anyone in the history of ever, and assuring him that the prophylactic thing was not the reason why -- this time the risk-taking was to blame, ironically.
And then there was Steve Rogers. Because yes, despite some setbacks, Tony was a very lucky guy indeed.
Steve had been slightly embarrassed to admit to Tony that he had very little experience beyond kissing, one “fondling incident” with a USO showgirl, and a furtive hand job in a troop transport, but Tony was delighted.
“A real virgin! I can’t wait,” he’d said, and Steve had flushed to the tips of his earlobes.
He still used condoms, though.
“All the time?” Steve had asked, brow wrinkling. “For everything?”
“Didn’t the Army show you appalling films about social diseases, Cap?” Tony tilted his head. “Well, they got worse while you were napping.”
“Sure, ‘there’s no medicine for regret.’ But...” Steve said, ”Soap, silver and mercury. Oh fuck, Tony..” He gasped at the feel of Tony’s fingers.
“You know I can’t get sick, right?” Steve asked Tony one morning as he shaved in front of the huge mirror in Tony’s suite.
“Yep,” Tony answered, slicking product through his hair as Steve tapped his razor on the edge of the sink and turned the tap on to rinse down the spatters of shaving cream.
“Good. Did you know I don’t even get colds? I’m resistant to all known viruses. The serum just...kills them on contact. So I'm not a carrier, either.”
“Uh huh,” Tony said. He knew that. Samples of Steve’s blood were being tested for vaccine possibilities, at his own insistence, but nothing had come of that yet. “That’s great. I only have to worry about you taking a bullet or something. So, you know, make sure you duck.”
Steve shook his head and finished shaving.
“I wanna go down on you,” Steve growled one night as they fell on the bed and he began working open Tony’s fly.
“Absolutely no argument here. None. Zero.” Tony gasped, as Steve gave his jeans a yank and pulled them past his knees. “Wait, just...” he paused to kick away the denim and reached for one of the condoms in the little porcelain box on the bedside table. Better Safe Than Sorry, read the lid. “What flavor?”
“Tony.” Steve rested on an elbow and grinned at him, and two condoms bounced off of Steve’s chin to smack against Tony’s bared stomach.
“Great aim, huh? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Tony flavor. That’s my answer. I want to taste you, not pumpkin latte or whatever these are.” Steve picked up a packet and rolled his eyes. “Vegan Vanilla.”
Tony sucked in a shaky breath. “These aren’t Starbucks condoms. Though that’s not a bad marketing idea.” He slid his arm over his eyes. “It’s just, I’ve never...”
Steve sniffed. “Yeah, me either.”
“Then you don’t miss it, right?”
“Look, I understand that you have a...phobia. You worry, but you know I’m safe; you know there isn’t anybody else.” They’d been together for months, and practically joined at the hip. Even if Steve had wanted to stray, he’d have had to be sneakier than he was to do it. Tony trusted him implicitly.
“It’s not a phobia,” Tony said tightly as Steve moved up and lifted his arm out of the way. “Phobias are irrational.”
“This is irrational,” Steve said, soft in his ear. “Come on. You kiss me, right? My mouth,” he breathed lightly against Tony’s parted lips, a centimeter away, “...on your mouth.” Tony strained upward, but Steve moved up a fraction, teasing, before dipping quickly to lick at the center of Tony’s upper lip, just where it bowed, and his tongue chased Steve’s. “You like my mouth.”
“Love your mouth,” Tony corrected softly. “Tease.”
“Then let me do this, make you feel good.”
“I like what what we do now,” Tony murmured. "Always feels good."
“Please,” Steve begged. “Come on. Let me suck you down without all that in the way, huh?” He slid down Tony’s chest, planting kisses along the way. “Let me taste you. I want that, so much.”
After a long moment, Tony nodded. Steve was probably the safest partner in the world. Well, apart from the other rather high percentage of people who were also not carrying anything infectious. But fine, sure, it was a phobia. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Yeah?” Steve was smiling up at him, arms folded over Tony’s thighs. He was always so deliciously enthusiastic, which never stopped surprising Tony.
“Go for it, Frosty,” Tony said, and Steve’s mouth was anything but, his breath warm against bare flesh. He dipped his head, licking a thick, heated stripe over Tony’s balls, something he knew Tony liked, moving upward, before he caught the way the hand weaving through his hair was shaking.
“We don’t have to,” Steve said. “If it’s that--”
“No, I want you to,” Tony replied. “I do.” And he did, more than anything. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fantasized about this. He bit his lip as Steve leaned up to capture Tony’s cock with one hand, and he licked the head, drawing a gasp. It was so warm, and he was used to that, of course, but Steve’s mouth was also smooth and tantalizing, deliciously so. Hot and wet, as Steve flicked his tongue over the slit, making Tony buck just from that sensation, then Steve sucked past the tip, and there was the slight graze of teeth that normally made him panic -- latex can tear -- but now it just felt sharp and sweet, and heavenly. “Oh god, Steve.”
“S’good?” Steve breathed around him, then grazed him again and soothed the glossy, wet flesh with his tongue, hands-free, and Tony nodded quickly.
“Yes, fuck, god. Yes.” He’d never felt anything quite like this.Tony felt Steve pull off his dick with a soft pop, and Tony bit his lip. “Don’t stop.”
“I just wanted to inform you that you taste even better than I'd anticipated, Mr Stark,” Steve said with a brilliant smile, before getting back to work, holding him still in one hand, shifting between his parted legs. Tony hissed in pleasure, writhing on the sheets.
“Fuck, so good.” He wasn’t going to last long. “I’m, I’m so close.” Steve’s hand gripped the base of Tony’s cock tightly and he eased his mouth away. “Why?” Tony groaned.
“Next time. Next time you’re gonna come down my throat.”
“Uh huh. Right now I have other plans for this,” Steve said, kneeling to move up on the bed, and Tony saw what he was doing; he’d been preparing himself, and if his mouth felt that different without a barrier...Tony threw his head back before raising it again to nail Steve with a mournful look.
“Won’t last,” Tony informed him, his heart racing. “Just a warning.”
“I’m ready,” Steve said, gripping the lube that had escaped Tony’s notice, preoccupied as he’d been. “So ready.”
“I am.” Steve leaned over him. “Want to feel you, don’t you want that?”
“Evil trick,” Tony murmured.
“Yep,” Steve confirmed, giving Tony’s still-hard cock a quick, heated skim with a heavily-slicked hand as he rolled over onto his back. “Come on.”
Tony’s nails dug into Steve’s thighs as he eased forward. “I mean it. This’ll be quick.”
Steve leaned up and regarded him through lowered lashes. “Almost came already, just watching you, tasting you.”
“God,” Tony muttered. “That’s so hot.” He slowly pushed forward, and oh, Steve was pulling at his hips, levering his legs to pull him in deeper. “Fuck, Steve.”
“Yes, fuck Steve,” Steve groaned. “Faster.”
“Mouthy,” Tony managed, just barely, because this was good. No, “good” was a shit word, It was weaksauce, it wasn’t anywhere near sufficient for this fresh set of nerve endings, this new intense flare of friction, hot and tight and wet with slick, and he’d been right; he wouldn’t last, not with Steve’s hips flexing up to meet his every slow drag to every stroke, the light sheen of sweat glossing his chest shining blue with the reflection from the arc reactor. And this was more than physical sensation. This was exposure. This was giving Steve everything. This was trust. This was armor off.
“So good, Tony,” Steve moaned, bracketing Tony with his legs, bucking back against his thrusts.
He snapped his hips fast and gasped, swearing. “I’m gonna...”
“Do it,” Steve urged, reaching between them to stroke himself, and thank god for that, because Tony was lost, failing at reciprocity at the moment. ”Come. Want all of you.” With that, his legs locked Tony in, Steve’s hand pumped harder, and he was tightening slick and hot around Tony, and that was it.
“Oh,” Steve gasped. “That’s right, come on--”
“Steve,” Tony breathed, and obliged, shoving deep and coming so hard he’d swear he blacked out for a few seconds, or maybe time had just jumped. He collapsed, still inside Steve; he couldn’t move, and Steve could certainly take his weight. Finally, Steve unwrapped his legs, and Tony reluctantly pulled out. “God.”
“Glad we tried it?” Steve sounded nearly breathless, still, and it took a lot to make that happen. Tony felt a smile take him over.
“Yes. You make the finest plans, Captain,” Tony confirmed. He ran his fingers through the streaks on Steve’s belly, and lifted one to his mouth, then licked, eyes on Steve’s, which had gone soft at the edges. “You’re going to love it when it’s your turn.”
Steve groaned and stroked Tony’s back broadly as he curled around him. “That might be sooner than you think.”
“So game for that, just gimme a moment,” Tony confirmed muzzily. “S’good.”
“Hey,” Steve jogged Tony’s side. So. I guess I was your first time, huh?”
“Mmmph,” said Tony, into his jaw.
“Aww, you saved yourself for me. That’s so special,” Steve rumbled, twisting to avoid Tony’s halfhearted slap.
And when Steve turned back, Tony was grinning like his face might break. “Love you, too,” Steve said.