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Tony's Oral Ministrations

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There are some things about the 21st century that are totally different. Steve’s read about the 60’s and the sexual revolution and all that, and it makes sense from a social perspective. Reactions against the establishment, against the previous generations, all that. He gets the urge, can see how people would want to bust loose. And the internet makes sense too, honestly. But what Steve has trouble wrapping his brain around is how rapidly the internet seems to have affected the landscape for everything. From friendships to family relationships (social media is really so useful for keeping in touch), to information sharing, to political awareness, to… well, everything.

And the porn. Lord have mercy, has that ever changed sex. At least, he assumes so. He’d had some early fumblings. Okay, one early fumbling with Lucille, which was exciting but interrupted and the opportunity never presented itself again. And then there was Bucky, who was a whole different kind of exciting. Steve recalls breathless explorations, furtive and desperate. He’d had those both pre- and post-serum, and that in itself brought a whole lot of discovery. He’d touched body parts and discovered what mouths could do. Thinking about it, Steve gets flushed all over again.

But this modern world sometimes makes him feel like the prude he knows he isn’t. He loves exploring. Tony’s kisses alone get him wanting to try new things. And he really, really does want to try new things. It’s just that… well, the actual doing of some of those things involves stepping on some very ingrained sensibilities.

So the first time Tony dips his tongue lower than Steve’s sac, Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. He knows what’s up, and realizes Tony is testing the waters. He’s been very gentle and patient about their sexual pace, all things considered. Steve figures there probably isn’t anything Tony hasn’t done, but Tony doesn’t act like the whole spectrum is necessary for both of their sexual fulfillment.

So yeah. The first tentative lick back that way bumps pretty hard against a mental wall in Steve’s head. On the other side of that wall is a lifetime of vague admonishments to wash, a handful of euphemisms for his body parts, and a thoroughly embedded general sense that certain parts of his privates are indeed, intensely private, and absolutely a bit dirty.

Tony, in established fashion, backs off. “No?” he says, and while he waits for his answer, he settles back in for a kind of idle suckle of Steve’s sac.

Steve takes a shuddering breath and says, “Ah, not a no… exactly.”

“Mm,” Tony says, and works his way back up to return his focus in more established comfort zones.

“You could, ahahhh ,” Steve says as Tony envelops him completely in an impossibly warm, wet sheath and sinks down. “You could try again. But… go slow.”

That gets him a smile as Tony slides off, which starts out as a pleased crinkle and right at the end softens to something thoughtful for a moment, there and gone. Steve sees it, though, and it’s just one more thing that makes this easier.

Tony takes his time moving down again, dipping gently and backing off, dipping marginally further, and backing off. Steve tries to relax, to ignore that the next exploratory lick is coming and avoid flinching. But he can’t relax because he can’t stop thinking about it. His whole body knows something new and strange is coming, and no amount of mental focus on having his dick sucked is letting him forget.

When the licks get really close and Tony has to push one of Steve’s knees up and out a little to get in closer, Steve gets a full shudder. He flings his arm over his eyes and feels the flush beginning in his chest and spreading everywhere in his body: embarrassment, but also arousal, all tangled up together.

Tony is firm but gentle, and works around Steve’s hole but doesn’t touch it yet, just sucking kisses and licking either side, using his hands to hold Steve apart. It’s absolutely mortifying how exposed Steve feels. A tiny voice inside him is whispering “dirty” which makes him want to hide his face more but he’s buried himself as much as he can already.

The wet noises are soft but the room is otherwise silent and Steve is hyper-conscious of them. They’re nasty, dirty, wonderful sounds and Steve listens to them with no small amount of horrified fascination. It’s why he doesn’t miss when a soft involuntary hum of pleasure escapes Tony, and Steve bites down on his lips because oh god, Tony loves this but it’s so…

Tony pushes his leg up further and Steve helps, lifting it towards his chest. Tony pushes Steve up on his side a little so Tony can change his angle. He's licking kind of upside down now, getting his face right in there and oh holy Mary that's...

It’s so filthy, the picture of himself that rises unbidden in his brain. Wanton, askew on the bed, opening himself so Tony can get in there. The whimper that’s in his head becomes horrifyingly audible for one tiny second and Tony pulls off.

This is not at all what Steve wanted, but it turns out Tony isn’t stopping, he’s just using the lifted leg to nudge Steve to roll over onto his stomach. Steve’s erection has flagged a little, which Tony notices, and he raises his eyebrows at Steve in a question.

“Yes,” Steve says too quickly. “Keep… keep going.” He rolls over obediently which is even more exposed (another shudder) but at least here he can press his face right down into both arms.

Tony, who usually has all kinds of words, says nothing. He speaks with his hands this time, running reassuringly up and down over the backs of Steve’s thighs for a minute, which actually does relax Steve a bit this time. Steve’s breathing, which he now realizes has been shallow and tense, deepens and slows. He can’t see or hear Tony, but there’s no mistaking who’s behind him, whose touch is effectively saying, “I’ve got you.”

So when those hands push up his thighs and ease him open, Steve feels every bit as laid bare as he has since the start, but this time the flush is more aroused than flustered. The rest of body agrees and he feels his cock twitching fuller beneath him.

Tony approaches again by working around and in, but quicker than before, and Steve guesses (hopes) it might be more out of his own desire than consideration. Steve gets a rush of affection when he thinks about how much Tony might have been holding back for him.

The licks get longer, more press and stroke, light-firm-light massaging the muscle looser. And when Tony starts pressing more insistently at Steve’s hole, Steve knows he’s tense but he wants it now, wants it so badly and he says “yes”, muffled into his hands.

“Good,” is all Tony says, barely removing his tongue long enough to do so. But his tone is reverent rather than approving and Steve groans softly in response.

Tony’s stroking, coaxing tongue presses in just a little but mostly Tony seems content to just pet, and the satisfied hums are more frequent now, mixed in with soft wet smacks and the sounds of gentle sucking.

The voice in Steve’s head whispers, “ dirty ” again but this time more drawn out, like he’s sinking into it, relaxing into the warm viscous pool of the whole experience. He feels the moment his body relaxes to Tony’s tongue, and Tony groans soft and long when it happens. Steve actually has to adjust at that point for his straining erection.

“Tony, I need to—”

“Mm?” Tony says muzzily. “Oh, God, yes. Touch yourself, please .”

And it’s kind of a relief how strung out Tony sounds.

Steve reaches under and can’t get a good grasp on himself without lifting right up. He’s enjoying the position and can’t quite bring himself to kneel up: that would be too much. So he wraps as best he can and rubs with his palm, the friction a perfect counterpoint to Tony’s oral ministrations.

Tony’s working his way inside now, his tongue squirming an insistent entry, and Steve finds himself wanting to give it. His palm presses his cock reflexively now, hips pulsing and thoughts getting fuzzy with a generalized desire for more and deeper .

He might be saying words like “yes” and “Tony” and “God” but he’s not entirely sure, only knows that he needs it. He needs to get off, he wants to come. And with a final wriggle of that glorious tongue inside him, Steve does, comes and comes on a coughed out sob.

When he stills, he senses Tony’s movement, and confirms with a look that Tony is frantically jerking himself, eyes on Steve’s rear, one hand still holding him open. And he can guess what Tony’s thinking, half wants to tell him to go for it. But before he can, Tony’s shuddering out his own orgasm.

It's a beautiful sight, Tony unguarded. Steve hazily thinks how pleasant it is to know he's the cause of it. It helps take the edge off being aware his own intimate visibility, because he's still not used to this part of him being laid bare.

Tony lets go then, thankfully, and Steve rolls to his side, resting his head on a cool unused part of the pillow. They make quick work of cleanup with some tissues from the bedside table and while Tony’s cleaning his hand, he shoots Steve a smirk.

“That was…” Steve begins.

“Good, right?”

Steve rolls his eyes to the side, smiling, because of course Tony gets smug. Tony looks at him until Steve looks back, and Tony just holds his gaze, fond and knowing. He doesn’t expect an answer, apparently, for all his cockiness. Steve lifts his arm, indicating the empty space in front of him, and Tony takes the hint and tucks himself in with his back to Steve’s chest.

They won’t sleep like this, but they do get tired, and as Steve’s thoughts go muzzy and diffuse, Tony says quietly, “Thanks.”

“Thank you ,” Steve replies, just as quietly.

***