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I’m pretty flexible in the kink department, (but I’m not into that.)

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Tony sits down on Bruce’s thighs, wiping the drying come of off his dick and hip, carefully running a hand over the gentle swell of Bruce’s stomach.

Bruce stills Tony’s hand by putting his own on Tony’s, trapping it against his waist.

“You know, I’ve noticed you do that a lot.” Bruce says, casually, looking at Tony, tucking his other hand up behind his head.

“Do what?” Tony says, genuinely curious. As far as he can tell, he’s not doing anything unusual. After they spend their slow, sweet time biting, licking, sucking and fucking, Tony’s usually the first one to gather enough brain power to go get a washcloth. Not that he minds. Quite the opposite, really.

“You touch my stomach a lot.” Bruce clarifies, evenly. His tone isn’t accusatory or annoyed, just observing.

“I do?” Tony says, cocking his head to the side. He knows he likes having his hands all over Bruce, on the small of his back while they go over plans in the lab, intertwining their fingers together while watching a movie, running through Bruce’s hair while they fuck. He really hadn’t noticed any particular pattern or obsession with his stomach, though.

“Mm-hmm.” Bruce confirms, “I didn’t think you ever did it on purpose, really. You’ve always just sort of done it like a habit. At least, as long as we’ve been together.”

Well, that part makes sense, Tony muses. Even he will admit he got a lot more handsy with Bruce ever since Tony kissed him and Bruce didn’t pull away. It seemed impossible, considering how tactile Tony was before they started dating, but it turned out to be true. It’s possible he developed habits not even he realized.

“Wanna tell me what’s so fascinating about my stomach?” Bruce says, voice taking on a hint of teasing. Tony pauses for a moment, tossing the dirty washcloth aside, and sliding his hand out from under Bruce’s and over his skin until it rests on Bruce’s navel.

“This isn’t some creepy thing where you’re like, turned on by me gaining weight, right?” Bruce asks unamused, “Cause I’m pretty flexible in the kink department, but I’m not into that.”

Tony laughs, and he can feel his affection for Bruce and his dry sense of humor flowing through his veins like a drug, blissful and easy.

“No,” Tony says, still smiling, “Not kinky, I don’t think.”

“Then what?” Bruce asks, curious and quiet, as Tony strokes his stomach with his thumb.

Tony considers for a moment, getting serious. He finally looks up away from his hand to meet Bruce’s eyes. “You know, when we first came here, we could’ve stripped you naked and counted your ribs?” Tony says, and Bruce raises an eyebrow in agreement. Everyone noticed how skinny Bruce was, despite the muscle and mass of his alter ego. It was impossible not to. He wasn’t emaciated, but it looked like that was his goal. No one had commented, but Tony had noticed how everyone, including himself, always made sure Bruce had extra on his plate when they ate together.

“Well,” Tony continues, “Now, you’re…” He doesn’t know how to say it, Bruce isn’t fat. Not really. He’s only got a little extra weight around the middle. Pudgy? Chubby, maybe? Before Tony can figure out the right word, he realizes from the look Bruce is giving him, he’s caught Tony’s point. Tony grins sheepishly. “I guess that’s not really any less creepy than the kink thing, huh?”

Bruce grins wryly, taking Tony’s wrist and pulling Tony until they’re lying alongside one another. “Not really. You like to know I’m happy and healthy. You sick fuck.” He says, with a deadpan tone, and Tony tucks his head into Bruce’s neck and laughs. He takes a moment just to enjoy the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

“Alright,” He says, reluctantly pulling away, “Fair enough.”

“I do need to start spending more time in the gym, though.” Bruce admits, looking down at himself.

“You could.” Tony says, grinning, “or you could stay this way, all soft and squishy.” He says, suddenly grabbing a handful of Bruce’s ass, making him yelp.

Bruce chuckles, and pretends to consider it for a moment. “I’m gonna vote ‘gym’, I think.”

Tony runs his hand up Bruce’s back and nips at his jawbone. “Alright, be that way. I'm pretty sure Natasha is looking for a new sparring partner, anyway.”

It’s Bruce’s turn to laugh now, and it makes Tony feel like he’s glowing to know he can make Bruce laugh. “I was thinking more like a new friendship with a treadmill. Not a suicide attempt.”

“Mm, fine.” Tony says agreeably, in between gentle bites on Bruce’s jaw. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“That,” Bruce says, smiling, pulling away from Tony just enough to look him in the eye, “would be you.”