Tony moans as he pushes into him, and it's the sweetest sound. He loves - craves - hearing it, loves how it sounds when Tony gives himself and lets himself go. “Steve,” he moans with just the right hint of begging and it’s like the sound of it lights Steve’s body on fire.
But there's only a wooden door between them and the rest of Avengers Mansion and the various heroes who are running up and down the hallways at all times of the day.
“God,” Tony pants, because Steve hits exactly the right angle to make him see stars, “Steve! You’re becoming really good at this!”
It’s just a little too loud for the small room. He reaches up and puts hand over Tony's mouth, lets him moan against his fingers, sound muffled and coarse.
“Sh, sh,” he soothes and Tony looks at him through half lidded eyes, mouth wet against Steve’s palm.
He's tight, so perfectly tight and warm around Steve, just perfect.
Steve can feel the next moan, stifled against his hand and he starts moving again, slowly, much slower than Tony usually demands of him, because he wants to feel these helpless moans building - and keep Tony quiet. Tony can’t speak now, when Steve presses him down and their eyes meet over his hand.
The blue of Tony's eyes is a shade darker than usual with lust. And Steve takes his time now, builds up the heat, feels Tony move with him, trying to get him to move faster without words, without sound, just with heated looks and the giving of his body.
He wraps his legs more firmly around Steve's hips, tries to goad him into a faster pace – breathing hot puffs against Steve's palm.
It's hot, surprising and hot. Steve hadn’t expected to be turned on by this and he leans down to bite Tony's shoulder, kisses the spot hard enough to leave a mark and Tony tries to scream, arching against his body and clenching around him.
For a blessed second longer Steve tries to keep his movements slow, tries to angle his deliberate, hard thrusts in the way that will drive Tony mad with pleasure. He has learned how to do it, found the best ways to make Tony moan and beg and cry out for him, wants to make him do all these things while he can't make more than quiet desperate sounds.
But Tony moves too, pushing and shaking and meeting him hard thrust for hard thrust, egging him on, begging with body and movement and without voice...
His hand slips and Tony starts to softly suck on his fingertips. The lips close around his fingers like another invitation and Tony looks at him, heated.
It's too much.
Steve gives in, lets himself go until the bed screeches in protest and he has to cover Tony's mouth with his own now to keep them both quiet.
Tony comes with a choked sound, breaks the kiss and throws his head back in the pillows. “Steve, Steve, Steve,” he whispers, desperate and lost, but keeping his voice down.
And Steve can't anymore; he thrusts hard, harder, finds exactly the right spot and friction and loses himself to the peaking pleasure that washes through his body like the fulfillment of a promise.
He collapses on top of Tony. Tony moves his head a little to kiss his check and whispers: “That was very sexy.”
He silently agrees, nuzzles against Tony's neck.
“Next time,” Tony says quietly, “when we're alone, let's see how loud I can make you beg.”
He huffs, sated and pleased – and feeling a spike of heat thinking about that prospect.
“I'll hold you to that,” he whispers, as they both settle more comfortably under the blankets.