Tony was nosy. It was one of the things about him everyone knew, and he occasionally used it to justify himself - no one, after all, would leave their laptop sitting open on the counter if they objected to him having a look. It wasn't like he snuck into people's rooms and dug through their underwear drawers.
And it wasn't like Steve was particularly secretive about his drawing. Little sketches often appeared on the noticeboards or pinned to walls. Tony had a caricature of himself, with goggles and blowtorch and crazed grin, framed and hung in his workshop. So when Steve dropped a sketchbook on his way upstairs, Tony didn't say a word, just carried it off to the couch to have a look at what Steve had been drawing recently.
The first picture in the book was one of Tony himself, sitting on the floor in sweatpants and t-shirt, grinning up at the viewer. Could be anyone of a hundred training sessions; Tony usually ended up on his butt, and he usually laughed about it. But the sketch was dated a few years ago; this must be an old sketchbook, as Steve usually filled them in a month or two. Less interesting, then; but never mind. He turned the page, and there he was again, in a suit, looking amused. Next page was Tony in a suit again, but he was sitting in an armchair, sprawled, tired looking. Page after page of Tonys; it was strange to see himself again and again, different times and places. Perhaps Steve kept separate books for all the Avengers, he did have a terrifyingly organized mind at times. He stopped on a picture that called to mind a very specific day. Pencils, and what looked like red felt tip; it was Tony after the Molecule Man had destroyed his armour, Tony naked but for his bright red underwear, expression affronted. He hadn't realised Steve had paid such close attention; the network of scars was just as he remembered it.
He shrugged and flipped the page, to another picture of himself in his underwear, side view, rubbing at his chest with one hand, frowning. The page after that was definitely not done from Steve's memory, because he was pretty certain he hadn't been striking poses like that in the Molecule Man's lair. The Tony on the page was leaning against the machine that had destroyed his armour, legs splayed, one hand resting on the inside of his thigh, the other at his hip, thumb tucked into the red elastic of the thong. Tony stared for a long moment, then turned the page.
The next page was Tony in the armour, helmet in his hands, grinning. He remembered grinning like that, til his face hurt, the first day he'd wanted to take off the helmet in front of the others and realised he could. Steve had grinned back at him, bright and happy, and knowing he didn't have to lie to him, to any of them, kept him smiling for hours. Several more pages of Tony in the armour, several angles and poses, but his face visible in all of them. Although now he was wondering if maybe the expression was... did he look at Steve that way, the under-the-eyelashes gaze, the little knowing smile?
Another picture of him in sweatpants and t-shirt; this time a rear view, and he was stretching, scratching at the small of his back, lots of skin visible above his waistband. It wasn't a huge surprise when he found a very loose pencil sketch of him in nothing at all, groin area barely sketched in. Next page was one of him sitting, legs spread, totally naked and drawn with loving attention to detail, although he assumed the depiction of his dick was Steve's imagination rather than Steve spying on him. He gave a faint snort of amusement at the thought of Steve concealed in his closet with a sketchpad, and turned the page again. A picture of him sprawled asleep on the couch, fully dressed, clutching a book; then an almost identical sketch, unclothed. The next picture was distinctly smutty, drawn in inks, and Tony wondered if Steve demanded this kind of care and attention from all his pornography. Maybe he wrote letters of complaint to Penthouse whenever the centrefold was poorly lit. Not that Steve read Penthouse. Of course, if he got his kicks drawing his team mates naked, he wouldn't need Penthouse. Dear Penthouse, you wouldn't believe what happened to me today! We were fighting a supervillain and suddenly my team-mate's clothes were melted - Tony snickered to himself, turned the page, looked at a smiling naked picture of himself.
Did Steve really use these for porn? Spend hours carefully getting every detail right, then prop it up and look at it while he touched himself? Tony shut his eyes, imagining Steve with his jeans open, hands on himself, staring at a picture of Tony looking back at him. Or maybe when he got back from a mission, adrenaline rushing fast, he'd flip open the book, unzip, push the blue leather down just far enough - Tony reached down to adjust his jeans. He was dwelling on the delightful image of Captain America jerking off, making himself come with pictures of Tony, when he heard the sound of someone running down the stairs. Tony grinned, turned the page, raised an eyebrow. Steve had a pretty optimistic view of his flexibility. He heard the slamming of doors, and then Steve jogged in, looking harried.
"Tony, have you seen - " he broke off as his gaze came to rest on the sketchbook on Tony's lap. "Um." Tony flipped the book to show Steve what he was looking at.
"I'll be honest, Steve, I'd need a little help to stay in that position for more than a few seconds." And oh, that was beautiful, a flood of colour surging over Steve's face, and he looked like... well, he looked like someone had just found his most embarrassing porn. Steve opened and shut his mouth, and then reached for the sketchbook. Tony snatched it out of reach.
"Nuh-uh. Hey, do you have books like this for all the Avengers?" He laughed at Steve's expression and twisted away from him as he grabbed, holding the book protectively to his chest.
"No, of course not! Give that back, you shouldn't have-" Steve caught him round the waist and rolled him onto his back and Tony grinned up at him.
"So I'm special, then?" and Steve met his eyes for just a second before looking back at the book, getting a firm grip on Tony's wrists.
"Of course you are," Steve muttered, and pried his arms off the book. Tony twisted sharply, and the book fell to the floor; when Steve lunged for it, Tony lunged for him, and they hit the floor together with some force. Tony landed on top, but Steve had the hand-to-hand expert thing going on, and he flipped them over easily, pinning Tony down.
"Tony," Steve gasped, and now he sounded more annoyed than embarrassed. Tony hooked his leg over Steve's and gave him a sunny smile.
"Tell me about this 'special' thing, Steve," he invited, and Steve let him go like he was on fire and tried to get up, but Tony wound his arms round Steve's neck and clung. "Come on," and he dropped his voice coaxingly, gave Steve the inviting smile so many of the Tonys in the book had, "I thought you wanted me like this?" Steve's expression flickered, and then he was pressing Tony into the carpet, mouth hot and eager on his. Tony made a happy noise and slipped his tongue into Steve's mouth, spread his palms out over Steve's broad back. He was big and warm and heavy, and he was kissing Tony like - well, like he'd been wanting to for years. Tony shuddered against him, thought of all the times he and Steve had laughed together, touched, sparred and all that time Steve had been wanting him, looking at him, been drawing him naked and -
"Do you jerk off to them?" he muttered into Steve's ear, and the guilty look was answer enough. "That's, that's really hot. You've been thinking about me since-"
"Since we started training together," Steve admitted, his hands creeping under Tony's t-shirt."You in your sweats, getting all hot, and the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating, I just. I wanted. I wasn't going to tell you." He tugged on Tony's shirt and Tony lifted up so he could get free of it, then went for Steve's belt. Steve grabbed for his hands. "Wait, the others - "
"Won't be back for hours. Come on, come on." Steve hesitated, visibly torn.
"Can we go upstairs?" he asked, and Tony sighed noisily and let go of him.
They got half way up the stairs before Steve remembered the sketchbook and ran back for it. Tony carried straight on, and by the time Steve appeared in the doorway to his bedroom, Tony was already kicking off his jeans. He settled himself on the bed as Steve closed and locked the door, and then turned to look at him. Then Steve just... stared. Tony shifted under his gaze, leaned back onto his arms, spread his legs, and Steve's lips parted, eyes slowly tracking over Tony.
"You don't have to memorize me, you know," Tony said softly. "You can draw me like this, if you want." Steve shook his head, crawling onto the bed, between Tony's legs.
"Somehow I don't think I'd be able to concentrate on drawing. Just look at you..." He reached out to trail his fingers over Tony's hip, and Tony shuddered.
"Enough looking, more touching," he ordered, and Steve grinned at him and leaned down to press his tongue to the soft skin of Tony's thigh, licking upwards as Tony squirmed impatiently. He nuzzled into the crease of Tony's thigh, drawing in a breath, and Tony reached out to tug on his hair.
"C'mon Steve, hurry up," he muttered. Steve laughed.
"Why are you in such a hurry? I've been wanting this for- god, for years."
"Oh, please. Like I've never thought about it before. I just thought you were straight." Tony rolled his eyes. "Isn't one of your superpowers being incredibly hot? I swear if, I couldn't be a hero, I'd take up supervillainy in the hopes of getting pinned to the floor for a while. Actually, I think that's why the Hate-Monger's in it."
"What? That doesn't even - you know, I think this would work better if you stopped talking." Steve was giving him a familiar look of fond exasperation, and Tony laughed at him.
"Make me shut up, then."
Steve's face softened and he bent to kiss Tony's belly, the light touch of his fingertips making Tony squirm and gasp. Steve's mouth on his nipple was amazing, gentle suction and the lightest graze of teeth; Tony tried to pull his head up for a kiss but Steve just moved to the other nipple, sliding a caressing hand to Tony's thigh. Tony got a handful of Steve's shirt and yanked him up, kissed him deeply, and groaned as Steve finally grabbed his cock and squeezed. Tony arched against him, panting, desperate for more contact, feeling the scratch of denim on his thighs. Steve sucked at his lower lip hard, bit gently, then pulled back, and Tony whimpered, licking at his lips, then making a louder noise of protest as Steve let go of him completely and sat back on his heels. He spread Tony's thighs wide, pushed one knee up, exposing him. A moment's hesitation, then he pinched Tony's nipples, hard. Tony yelped and twisted, but Steve's hands on his hips rocked him back into position. Tony blinked hazily at Steve, panting, and Steve looked back, eyes wide, looking from his face to his cock to his heaving chest.
"Steve," Tony sighed in realization, tipping back his head. "God, can't you do this later? After we've had sex?" Steve made an agreeable noise and wrapped his hand round Tony's ankle, spreading him a bit wider."Steeeve. Come on."
"You're so -" Steve dragged the nails of his free hand over the inside of Tony's thigh, biting his lip as Tony writhed under his touch. "I could watch you for hours."
"Bad plan!" Tony twisted, tried to rub against Steve's hand, but Steve just rested it over Tony's hip and held him still with no apparent effort. Tony sighed, and slumped back against his pillow. Then he reached back over his head, braced his hands against the headboard, and stretched, arching his back and spreading his legs even further, twisting his hips until his spine made a satisfying popping noise. He could hear Steve's breath picking up, and he settled back into the bed comfortably before licking his palm and wrapping it round his cock. If Steve liked to watch, he could deal with that. He stroked himself slowly, moaning, little catches of breath as he pressed his thumb into the spot just under the head. When he looked, Steve was perfectly still, eyes fixed on his cock, and Tony could see the bulge in his jeans. It made him louder, and Steve's eyes met his.
"I always thought..." Steve's voice was rough and throaty, and Tony moved his hand faster.
"That you'd be noisy. Uninhibited. That you'd be really eager for it." He's flushed, pink over his cheekbones, and Tony really needs him closer.
"Of course I'm eager, Steve, you've barely touched me! Get your hands on my dick and I'll show you noisy. Come on. Come on. I'll scream for you. Just touch me," and Steve smiled, a little satisfied crook of his lips. He'd never have pictured Steve as a cocktease, but Jesus, this was almost painful, Steve's hands on him so still. He groaned in disappointment as Steve moved away entirely, but he was stripping his clothes off, and Tony wanted to take some time to look himself, but that was going to have to wait, because right now he needed - and then Steve's hands were smoothing down his chest, bare thighs between his own, mouth on his neck. Tony gave a sigh of relief, then grabbed Steve's hand and put it where he wanted it. Steve didn't tease him any more, stroking him quick and firm, and Tony bucked into his touch, panting.
"Steve. Steve. God, come here." Tony wriggled against him until he could reach Steve's cock, and Steve took a shaky breath as Tony stroked him.
"I don't want to rush this," said Steve, voice tight as Tony explored, trying to find the places that would make Steve moan. "I want... to remember this."
"Steve-" Tony rolled his eyes. "We can always do it again."
"Yeah?" Steve dropped his head to Tony's shoulder, shuddering as Tony's thumb moved slick over the head of his cock. "I'd like that. I'd like to do it lots of times. I've had so many thoughts about you."
"Yeah? Tell me." Tony laughed at the blush spreading down his neck. "Come on. You can tell me."
"Maybe next time," said Steve, and he turned his head to grin at Tony.
"You want - you want to fuck me? You can. You can now, if you want." He hooked a leg around Steve's hip invitingly, and Steve shuddered against him.
"Yeah, I want that." Steve kissed him again, slow and tender, like he wasn't in a hurry at all, and God, Steve's patience would be the death of him.
"You heard the 'now' part, right?" he muttered, and flailed in the direction of the nightstand. Steve laughed, and pushed up on his knees to reach the drawer. He raised an eyebrow at its contents.
"Well, you live an interesting life," he remarked, and picked a condom and a bottle of lube out of the drawer.
"As opposed to the extremely boring drawing porn of -" Tony's retort was muffled by a kiss, and he decided the argument could be saved for later. Steve's superb co-ordination and multitasking were apparently applicable in this arena too, as it was only a moment before cool slick fingers were stroking between his buttocks, teasing him with light touches.
Steve's fingertips slipped inside him, just slightly, and Tony moaned encouragement, rocking his hips onto them. His body opened easily for Steve, two fingers then three spreading him open. Tony clenched down, and Steve groaned softly.
"God, Tony, that feels-"
"It'll feel even better on your cock," promised Tony. "Come on already." Steve pulled his fingers out with a wet sound, and then Steve's cock was pressing against him, finally. Tony sighed in pure relief as his body gave way, and then made a face. Steve froze, stroked his cheek.
"Fine, I'm fine. Don't stop," Tony tugged on his hip, and Steve frowned.
"I'm hurting you," and Tony rolled his eyes.
"Not really. It'll only last a minute,"
"Then I'll just wait a minute." Steve's face set into stubborn lines. Tony groaned.
"You're not serious? You're serious." He wriggled, and Steve's eyes fluttered shut. "You like that?" He arched his back, pushing further onto Steve's cock, watching Steve bite his lip, the muscles in his shoulders tensing visibly.
"Tony..." Steve opened his eyes. "You are such a pain." He was smiling helplessly, little tremors running through his body as he tensed to keep still. "Just relax a little for me." He put a warm hand on Tony's belly, and Tony submitted, consciously relaxing, taking deep breaths. He let his thighs fall open wider, concentrated on letting his muscles slacken, and after a minute, Steve shifted against him slowly. It was nothing but pleasure then, as Steve slowly filled him, and by the time he was fully sheathed, Tony was tense and panting again. Steve ground against him, flashes of sensation inside him, and took his mouth in a deep kiss. Tony wrapped his leg round Steve's waist and tried to pull him in deeper.
"Steve," he gasped, breaking away. "Don't make me beg."
"You said you'd scream for me," Steve reminded him, and Tony whined.
"I didn't mean with frustration!" he snapped, and then let out a sound of relief as Steve slowly pulled out. He pushed back in just as slowly, and Tony resigned himself to possibly being driven insane. The slow slide of Steve inside him was dizzyingly good, but the ache for harder and faster and more built inside him until he was chewing his lip to keep from whimpering. Steve dragged his thumb over Tony's mouth, leaned in to lick at his lips, Tony grabbed a handful of hair and shook him. "Steve Rogers, I swear if you don't fuck me - ah!" Steve's hips snapped against him hard, and he let go. "Yes," he panted, and Steve kept doing it, fucked him harder now, faster, driving choked noises from him. He was shuddering, he could feel the pleasure building in his body as his toes curled - and then Steve eased off, slowed down, and Tony moaned in disappointment as it slipped away from him. "You are, you are such an asshole-"
"I don't - don't want to stop," Steve said, rocking against him, breathing heavily. "Want to keep fucking you, God, Tony-"
"You can, you can, just let me come, you can keep going. Fuck, Steve," Tony writhed desperately under him. Steve kissed him again, hard, before pushing Tony's thigh up with one hand and slamming into him with a force that made Tony's vision splinter. It just got better after that, Steve fucking into him at just the right angle to make him cry out, holding him still so all he could do was take it, and the final noise Tony made as he spilled onto his belly was as near a scream as made no difference. Steve didn't slow down, his grip on Tony's thigh tightening, and as Tony shook his head clear of the orgasm, he saw Steve drop his head, shudder, bite down on his lip. When he opened his eyes, he was smiling, a dazed smile that widened as he met Tony's eyes.
Steve pulled out carefully, and peeled off the condom with hands that shook. Grabbed some tissues, wiped up himself and then Tony's belly, then dumped the lot on the nightstand and leaned in to kiss Tony, wet and messy. Tony dragged him down, pressing their bodies together, and Steve got an arm round him and held him close.
"Thought you were going to keep going?" said Tony lazily, winding his arms around Steve's neck.
"Yeah, well, you looked - I couldn't help it." Steve sighed, kissed Tony's cheek. "Next time."
"If you tease me like that every time I will kill you dead, do you hear me?" said Tony threateningly. It didn't have quite the desired effect; Steve made a noise that was almost a giggle, rubbing his cheek against Tony's shoulder.
"Sorry," he said, and didn't sound sorry at all. Tony sighed, then yawned. "How late were you up last night?"
"Four? The shoulder joint was - never mind." Tony's eyes were refusing to open. A good time for a nap; he'd probably have a late night tonight, too. As he started to drift off, he felt Steve disentangle himself, and his weight leave the bed. A few moments later, he heard the faint scratch of pencil on paper.