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Jewish Christmas

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“Jewish Christmas?”

“Jewish Christmas.”

Tony stuck a soldering iron in his mouth, fiddling with a contact point with both hands. Once he managed to get it to where he wanted it, he carefully switched everything over to one hand and removed the soldering iron from his mouth. “Okay, I'll bite: what's Jewish Christmas? Black Friday? April 15th?” Deftly Tony soldered the piece in place as he worked.

“Both of those guesses are offensive, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, sic Ben on me next time he comes over for poker night with the Hulk.” Done. Tony wiped the soldering iron down on a sponge before setting it back in its cradle. He spun around a little in his chair and turned his full attention to the conversation he was having with Steve.

“That aside, it's not a different date,” Steve was explaining over the speakers in the lab. He sounded like he was puttering around his apartment—probably decorating a Christmas tree or something. “It's on Christmas. It's a different way to celebrate is all. I'll pick you up at four? This Wednesday?”

Tony grimaced and got up, wiping his hands on a relatively clean rag as he started across his workshop. “Why can't I have Happy pick us both up instead?”

“Because you're doing me a favor and I want to pick you up.”

“Oh yeah, because spending Christmas with you is such a hardship you have to call in a favor,” Tony reprimanded him. More seriously he told Steve: “It's my pleasure, really. And I give up: if you want to pick me up and be the man for our date, it's fine by me.”


“Yes, dear?” Tony asked Steve's disembodied voice sweetly.

“Shut up.” Tony laughed and Steve continued: “And be ready December twenty-fifth at four o'clock. If you're late-”

“I can be on time, you know,” Tony pointed out.

“Make sure you are.”

They ended the call as Tony strode out of his lab, already shucking his shirt and shoes for a shower. He would make sure he set himself a dozen reminders to be waiting for Steve four o'clock on the twenty-fifth. He needed to find out what this “Jewish Christmas” as all about, after all.

Three fifty-eight on December twenty-fifth, Tony was standing outside the Tower, bundled up in a winter coat and scarf and freezing his ass off. He bounced a little as he checked his watch again. Two minutes. It was unlikely Steve would be there a second early. Or a second late.

Sure enough, two minutes later almost down to the minute, Steve pulled up in his classy little SHIELD-issued car that he drove when he didn't take the bike. Tony was grateful. So grateful that he hopped right into the front passenger seat without even waiting for Steve to come to a full stop.

“Okay!” Tony blew on his hands, trying to warm them up. “You going to show me what this-”

“Tony, I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Feinstein. They live in the apartment across from me,” Steve interrupted.

Slowly, like he was in a horror movie, Tony turned around in his seat to look back. There, cozied up in the back seat of Steve's car, was an old man and woman. They had to be at least eighty.

Tony put on his best winning smile and reached over to shake their hands. Right, okay. So apparently Jewish Christmas involved actual people of the Jewish faith. Tony hoped it didn't also involve going to temple or something. He went to a heck of a lot of church for Steve that he wouldn't otherwise—he didn't need to take another religion on top of the first. Tony might just have to put his foot down on that one.

After introductions had been passed around Tony turned back forwards in his seat and glanced over at Steve. “So are you going to tell me where we're going yet?”

From the back seat, Mrs. Feinstein—Ruth, as she insisted Tony called her—pipped up: “Oh, it's this lovely Chinese restaurant. Very good food, little local secret. My Jakey and I, we discovered it back in the eighties, wasn't it? And it's still here, which is a surprise, let me tell you. The amount of little shops that go under in this neighborhood, get replaced by a Starbucks or a McDonalds...”

Tony nodded and did his best not to laugh as Ruth bemoaned the decline of mom-and-pop eateries. He glanced over at Steve, who was smiling fondly as he drove them through the busy streets of Manhattan. Alright, so this was Jewish Christmas, apparently: Chinese food and old Jewish neighbors. Tony glanced over at Steve again, and caught his eye. They shared a smile before Steve turned his attention back to the road. Tony could spend one Christmas this way.

Two hours later, and Steve was waving Mr. and Mrs. Feinstein through their apartment door, promising that he'd be over tomorrow to help them finish up the leftovers. As soon as their door was shut Tony turned on Steve, grabbing his tie and dragging him away.

“You know, I'm circumcised,” Tony teased as he tugged Steve into his own apartment.

“I'd noticed that, once or twice,” Steve commented dryly as he allowed himself to be led.

“And you're not,” Tony reminded Steve.

Steve kissed Tony's lips, trying to swallow up his chatter. “I noticed that, too,” he pointed out. Tony continued to walk backwards towards Steve's bedroom, grip tight around Steve's tie as they went.

Of course, Tony wasn't that easy to get to shut up. If he was, the Avengers would be treated to a hell of a lot more PDAs over the years as Steve attempted to get Tony to listen to him in meetings, battles, &c. Tony sidled up to Steve's lips, pressing a kiss to them before whispering: “We could role play, you know. In honor of Jewish Christmas. I'll be the Jew, you be the gentile.”

“That is not. Funny,” Steve groaned in embarrassment, knocking his forehead gently against Tony's. The backs of Tony's knees hit the bed and Steve pushed him down onto it. Tony allowed himself to bounce lightly as he fell, laughing up at the consternated look on Steve's face.

Steve frowned mightily down at Tony as he stripped his own tie off. Tony hurried to follow suit. “We're not roleplaying religions, Tony. That's terrible.”

“I'm sure there's hundreds of sexy nun outfits on eBay right now that would argue the point,” Tony pointed out as he got himself good and naked.

Tony yelped and then laughed as an equally naked Steve pushed him to lie flat on the bed, then climbed on top of him and started kissing the humor right out from his lungs. Steve broke the kiss just an inch to murmur: “Well, that electronic Bay of yours sounds like a den of inequity and loose morals. You'll have to show it to me later so we can bust it up.”

Tony groaned and grabbed at Steve's head, fingers tangling in the short cropped blonde hair. His eyes nearly crossed looking into Steve's, they were so close to one another. “Alright, alright old man: I get the message. Less talking, more fucking.”

“Now you're getting into the spirit of things,” Steve murmured. He bent his head to kiss Tony again, and Tony decided to swallow his thoughts on two men fucking on a day known the birth of an immaculately conceived baby. He'd save that one for later.

“Actually, wait.” Tony pulled away from Steve, breaking the kiss. Steve waited as he was told, peering down curiously at Tony. “Can I suck your dick? All this talk of Jews and circumcision put in the mood to play with your foreskin.”

The little frown line Steve got between his eyebrows made its appearance as Steve's mouth opened in slight horror. “You really know how to seduce a guy.”

“Come on,” Tony whined. He started to shimmy his way down Steve's body as best he could pinned under all that unyielding muscle. “Lemme suck your dick. Don't tell me you're going to turn down a blow job just because I said 'foreskin'.”

Stop. Saying it.” Steve growled. But he was already rolling off of Tony and positioning himself on the edge of the bed. Tony dropped down off the side with a gleeful grin.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony murmured as he kneeled before Steve. “There's the good stuff. Come here little guy.”

“Little?” Steve grumbled.

“Big guy, big guy. Nice and big, nice and thick,” Tony cooed at Steve's dick.

The reassurances were unnecessary, because Steve's hands were already burying themselves in Tony's hair, his legs spread wide for Tony to move between them.

Tony hummed as he took Steve's erection in his hands, rolling it around, re-familiarizing himself with the weight and heft. The head of his penis was already out of the foreskin, glistening with a drop of precome. Tony thumbed at the slit, smearing the precome around and down the shaft. His fingers played with the foreskin: pulling it back, sliding it up and down. He used both hands, rolling it between them like the world's best—and most age-inappropriate—play dough.

Steve's fingers tugged gently at Tony's hair. “Did I mishear you? Did you say 'blow job' or 'hand job'?”

“Excuse you, I thought Christmas was about waiting. Isn't that what Father Patrick was saying? Advent is the season of patience and anticipation?”

Steve groaned and tilted his head back, eyes squeezed shut. Tony was watching him with smiling eyes. “Please don't talk about Father Patrick right now,” Steve begged him. “Just...”

“And they call me impatient,” Tony mock-grumbled. But he took pity on Steve and bent his head, blowing lightly on the tip of Steve's dick. It jumped in his hands, fresh flood of precome dribbling off the edge. Tony leaned in further and took the head in his mouth, lips curling over just at the edge of the foreskin, hands keeping it pulled tightly back. Steve grunted his approval, fingertips rubbing lovingly over Tony's scalp.

Tony sucked lightly on the head for a moment, eyes closed and enjoying the salty taste of Steve's skin, the heat and weight of Steve on his tongue. Tony lapped at the underside of the head, tongue rubbing and rubbing at Steve's dick like it was the world's best lollipop—which, in Tony's opinion, it pretty much was. Pulling off for a moment, Tony spit in his hand, then returned down to suck on Steve's dick some more, only this time with his slick hand rubbing at Steve's foreskin.

When Steve's breathing took on the slightest hitch, Tony moved his head down further, taking in more of Steve's thick length. He kept Steve's foreskin pulled back as long as he could, until he let it go, sucking it into his mouth. Then he pushed it out with his tongue, then sucked it back again. He smiled around Steve's thickness when he heard that little grunt that meant Steve's really starting to enjoy himself. As if the twitching hips and rubbing fingers and flexing thighs weren't all message enough.

Just before Tony might have developed a kink in his neck, Steve's fingers started tapping against Tony's head meaningfully. Putting his wrist to good use, Tony pumped Steve rapidly, holding his mouth loose so Steve could fuck into it. Steve came with a grunt and a sighed “Tony,” spilling himself into Tony's mouth. A little dribbled out onto Tony's chin and he lapped at it happily, fingers cleaning himself up.

“Get up here,” Steve growled, lifting Tony one-handedly up into his lap. Tony yelped and then laughed, settling himself across Steve's lap, back-to-chest. Tony leaned back and lay his head on Steve's shoulder, looking up at him.

“Mmm, Christmas came early,” Tony said with a sigh. Steve rolled his eyes and seemed to consciously decide to ignore how little that statement made sense.

Steve's hand slipped down into Tony's lap, and he bent down to kiss him as he started to stroke. Tony's hips lifted into the touch, thrusting up into Steve's big, tight fist. Steve's tongue chased after the taste of himself, tucked away in the corners of Tony's mouth. Tony allowed himself to be plundered, loose and happy like he'd already orgasmed along with Steve.

Against his ass Tony could feel Steve's softening dick, wet and sloppy, rolling along his crack. Tony groaned and rubbed against it, feeling Steve's foreskin sliding around over his dick and against Tony's skin. “Fuck, you feel good,” Tony groaned against Steve's lips.

“Shut up and just come already,” Steve growled. Embarrassingly, that was more thanenough to end it for Tony. His whole body shuddered and he came with a reluctant cry, spilling out into Steve's fingers and making a mess of things. Steve held his hand up to Tony's mouth and Tony obediently licked himself from Steve's fingers. Steve kissed Tony as soon as he was done, sucking Tony's come into his mouth and swallowing it. Tony just moaned, sweaty and loose and happy and a hundred and fifty percent ready to pass out in a sex-and-Chinese-food induced coma.

Luckily Steve didn't seem too interested in keeping things going; instead lifting Tony up and settling them both under the covers at the head of his bed. Tony sank into the pillows contentedly, one ankle thrown over Steve's calf as he drifted off.

“Merry Jewish Christmas,” Tony wished Steve with a yawn, eyes already closed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve replied back. Tony was asleep before he felt the kiss Steve pressed to his forehead.