Steve’s just gotten all three kids down for a nap and is stepping back out into the sun, intending to start the washing, when a hand grabs his arm and hauls him into the space between Tony’s tent and the next one over. He squeaks and starts to protest, but arms wrap around his waist from behind and a face nuzzles into his neck. He knows that nuzzle well enough to not be worried. Or at least, not be worried he’s being kidnapped or something. There’s a low-grade worry with Tony that he’s going to do something outrageous that never completely goes away. Steve has it on good authority that Pepper and Bruce share this worry.
“Hey, Steve,” Tony says, and brings his left hand up to rub little circles over the baby. It feels good, and Steve relaxes back into Tony’s body. Which is when Tony’s other hand moves, quick as a summer lightning, up to thumb at his right nipple, and Steve realizes he’s been lured into a false sense of security.
He cries out at the first touch. “Ah! Tony, don’t,” he begs, squirming to get away, but Tony’s stronger than he looks and has his iron grip focused on keeping Steve just where he is. Steve's grown since he's been with Tony, gotten stronger and a bit taller, but Tony's still got at least a few inches on him, enough to keep Steve from getting away.
Tony just hums into Steve’s neck and keeps rubbing at the nipple. Each pass feels like hundreds of needles pressing into Steve’s chest. His knees have gone weak and he’s starting to tremble. He can feel the milk trickling down, too, soaking through his shirt. The trickle turns into a stream when Tony stops rubbing and starts pinching.
Steve groans and arches. He’s not sure whether he wants to push forward into Tony’s hand or move backward into Tony’s body, where he can feel Tony hard against him. He could have that inside him right now, he thinks, but can’t find the words to say ask for it. The pain is bright and hot and so incredibly good. His shirt is soaked through all down his right side, and Steve can’t even bring himself to care.
Then Tony pauses, switches hands. He brings his left up to Steve’s other nipple and lets his right fall down to hold the baby. The process begins all over again, rubbing first, then hard, sharp pinches. Soon that side of the shirt is soaked, too.
“Tony,” Steve begs, letting his head fall backward onto Tony’s shoulder. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. Tony must figure it out, though, because he slides his right hand slowly down Steve’s belly, slips it into Steve’s pants and palms his cock. It occurs to Steve, suddenly, as Tony begins to stroke him, that they’re outside, where anyone could walk past and see this, see the mess Tony’s turned him into.
Steve feels it building inside him, the painpleasure in his chest and the pure, sweet, fantastic pleasure from his cock, Tony’s solid body behind him, grounding him. Then Tony bites at Steve’s neck, and Steve’s gone, closes his eyes and comes.
When he can force his eyes open, they’re on the ground, Tony kneeling behind him, nuzzling again.
“That was beautiful, Steve,” he says. Steve’s chest aches and he knows he’s going to regret this later, when Jan wants fed again, but he feels so great right now that it almost makes up for it. It’s probably about time to wean her, anyway, he thinks vaguely. Maybe they’ll try to start her on semi-solids tonight, give his poor, abused nipples a break.
“You’d think,” Steve tells Tony, turning slightly in his arms to look him in the face, “That after almost four years of me breastfeeding, you’d have gotten tired of doing this to me.”
“I will never, ever get tired of you,” Tony tells him, and his face is so serious when he says it that Steve knows it’s the truth. It’s sweet, comforting, even, but doesn’t bode well for the state of Steve’s clothing (or dignity) for the next two years of so while he feeds this new baby.
“Not even when I’m done breastfeeding, when we take our break from having kids?” It’s something Steve’s worried about, a little. It takes a lot for him to ask the question, and he feels his cheeks flush, but he’s made a promise to himself to start actually talking to Tony about things that bother him. Apparently, he does this thing where he gets something into his head and just worries about it until it becomes a much bigger problem than it ever needed to be.
Tony smiles fondly. “Nah,” he says, and brings a hand up to touch Steve’s face. “I love having you like this, it’s hot as hell, but it’s not the reason I want you. Have you seen your bone structure? Or your hips? Unf, Steve, you’re such a hottie, you don’t even know, and it doesn’t matter if you’re pregnant or not. Plus, I mean, I’m kinda a little bit in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”
Steve has noticed, actually. He leans over and kisses Tony, sweetly. “Do you want me to-” he waves a hand at where Tony’s still hard in his pants.
“No,” Tony says, climbing to his feet. “It can wait until tonight. I’ve got to get back to work.” He holds out a hand and helps Steve to stand, too. “Anyway,” he continues. “Seeya.”
With a kiss on the cheek, he’s gone, hurrying off to presumably make up for the time he lost while being a pervert with Steve. Steve sighs, looking down at his clothes. His shirt is soaked through all down the front, sticking uncomfortably to his skin, and the come in his pants is beginning to itch. It’s good he was about to do the washing, anyway. Hopefully he can get these clothes clean and drying before anyone can ask any awkward questions.
His hopes are dashed when he rounds the tent and almost runs right into Pepper. She takes one look at the state of him and begins to laugh.
“Really, Steve?” she asks. “This is the third time this month this has happened.”
Fourth, actually, but Steve doesn’t correct her. “It’s all Tony,” he insists, though they both know it’s not. Tony wouldn’t do it if Steve didn’t want it, which means there’s a place somewhere deep, down in the darkest part of his soul that must enjoy this humiliation.
Pepper grins, knowingly. “All right,” she says, kindly letting it go. “I’m going to start the washing. Why don’t you get changed and then join me? We need to get those washed before any of your little monsters get ideas.”
She walks off and Steve sighs, turns to go into the tent. “My life is ridiculous,” he says, mostly to himself but a little to the baby. The way the baby kicks inside him makes him smile and think that maybe it understands. “Be prepared,” he tells it. “Once you’re born, things will only get weirder.”
It’s true, he knows, but somehow, it’s a comforting thought, anyway.