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Come On Mess Me Up

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Steve plucked unhappily at the collared shirt he was wearing, which was too stuffy and felt somehow restrictive all over. Carol had been crystal clear that part of his duties as president now involved press conferences and PR events as well as military missions, and that formal shirts were not optional.

Normally, Steve would have told her (politely) exactly where to shove her fancy shirts and then gone back to doing what needed to be done. But now, with the country fractured and fighting still happening all over the states, they needed good PR and a clear leader even more than they needed a fighter.

So he’d done his duty: he’d attended what felt like an endless series of photo ops and news broadcasts, hoping that if he could just show the country how dedicated he was as a president and how determined he was to bring the United States back together then the fighting could be over. It was a kind of service, Carol had reminded him, to gather disparate factions into a cohesive country, and it was more valuable than anything his combat skills could offer.

Still, after a day of such events he felt exhausted in a way he never did after a mission. He had retreated to the small, poky temporary office he was using in the Triskelion with the excuse that he had paperwork to do. Mostly, he just wanted to be alone for a minute and not to have anyone look at him as if he could single handedly fix their broken country.

He wondered how Tony was so at ease in these types of clothes. Tony looked effortless in a suit, the elegant lines of his shoulders outlined in sleek wool. Steve felt like a child playing dress up. He longed for his uniform, the only garment he really felt comfortable in, but he knew that changing into the stars and stripes would only make him look even more out of place in his office.

A sharp knocking at his door set his teeth on edge. His immediate reaction was to tell whoever it was to leave him alone, but it must surely be important for someone to disturb him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, praying for patience.

“Come in.”

As if summoned by his thoughts the door swung open to reveal Tony, in full armor and with a hip cocked against the doorframe, helmet retracted to reveal a smug grin. A drip of thick green impact gel ran down his temple.

“Mr. President,” he said with not a hint of reverence.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re still not tired of that, are you?”

“The excuse to address you as our star-spangled commander-in-chief? Not even slightly.”

Tony swaggered into the office, propping himself up on the edge of the desk in a manner that should have been overly familiar, but was actually a relief after a day of people saluting him.

Tony was wearing an older model of armor, and it had been a while since Steve had seen him using the cushioning gel that kept him safe but now ran in sticky trickles down his skin. Catching Steve looking, Tony explained: “I’ve been experimenting with suits that can withstand high G-force exposure. I decided it was time to bring back a vintage Iron Man look.”

Steve nodded distractedly. “How was Texas?” he asked, getting right to the point. Tony had been sent out on a recon and resupply mission a few days ago. If he had come straight to debrief Steve instead of getting out of the armor and getting a drink first, the situation must have been serious.

Tony waggled a hand back and forth with an unhappy twist to his lips. He paused to wipe the contact gel from his forehead and Steve found himself staring at the way it covered the metal fingers. “I’ll be honest, darling, I found the famed Southern hospitality somewhat lacking.” Steve had seen reports that the fighting in Texas had been particularly ugly. “But we got the supplies to the local hospitals.”

Steve slumped back in his chair, wanting to feel relief but annoyed by the scrape of the cotton shirt against his skin. He tugged at his collar. It didn’t feel right for him to be sat here in an office while people like Tony were out facing danger. He needed to get out, to do something, to burn off this restless energy that was buzzing through him. But there was no time for that now.

He stood instead and clasped a hand to Tony’s shoulder. The metal was cool and smooth under his hand. Whatever his own state of mind, it was important that he recognize the efforts of his team.

“Good work, Tony. We’ll do a full debrief with the cabinet in the morning.”

Tony turned towards him with a lascivious smile. “Does that mean you’re free for the evening then, Mr. President? Gonna pass the evening saluting the flag?” He made an obscene hand gesture.

The last of Steve’s patience quickly frayed. He yanked his hand back from Tony’s shoulder and sat, balling his fist in his lap. “Actually, Stark, some of us have more to do than sitting around jerking off all day.” He refused to acknowledge the blush that threatened to creep up his neck as he thought about what he’d just said.

Tony flinched back slightly, then narrowed his eyes. He looked Steve up and down, apparently taking in the taut line of his shoulders and the veins standing out in his forearms. His expression softened and he learned forward over the desk and into Steve’s personal space. “You're on edge today, darling. You should try a masseuse. Or a stiff drink.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped further. “Alcohol doesn’t work on me,” he said sullenly.

“Massage it is then.” Tony smirked and pressed a release switch somewhere. The gauntlets around his forearms hissed and disconnected, opening to reveal Tony’s slender hands covered in the thick green cushioning gel that sat under his suit. “But as you can see, I’ll need to call in some help for that one. I can offer you the number of a very discreet agency…”

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way the slime ran in rivulets down his arms and around the bones of his wrist. Without thinking he reached out and grasped Tony’s forearm. Tony stopped short, clearly taken off guard.

Steve turned Tony’s wrist over in his hand, feeling the thick goop squishing between his fingers. When he swiped a thumb across his pulse point, Tony let out a little gasp of surprise. Steve looked up at him, coyly, secretly delighted at how responsive Tony was to his touch.

“You could massage me.” Steve didn’t know where this new boldness came from. A side effect of becoming president perhaps. He met Tony’s eye fearlessly. He was conscious of the raw power of the suit that Tony wore, the strength contained in those arms. “I’m sure that would be very relaxing.”

Tony’s mouth fell open in an o of surprise for just a second, before he quickly schooled his face back into a casual smirk. He didn’t pull his hand back, though. “But darling, I’m all slimy. Wouldn’t it be nicer if I washed up first? I wouldn’t want to get your fine outfit all messy.” He reach forward with his other hand towards Steve’s chest, fingers covered in goo just barely grazing his cotton shirt.

Steve held his gaze, determined. “Maybe messy,” he said popping the top button of the shirt undone, exposing a flash of collarbone in invitation, “is exactly what I want right now.”

Tony nodded shakily and slowly brought his hand up to Steve’s throat, running a gooey finger down his Adam’s apple. Steve inhaled sharply as the slick gel hit his skin and slid down his neck, leaving a trail which cooled slowly in the stuffy air.

Steve was aware of Tony staring at him, waiting for him to slap his hand away and to pretend like this had been some sort of joke or test. But Steve was feeling reckless, and he wasn’t in the mood to back down today. He grasped the edges of his hated stuffy shirt and yanked it open, sending buttons flying across the room.

Tony gasped audibly, and Steve looked up at him with a rapacious smirk. He pushed himself forward against Tony’s hand until his slick fingers were pressed against his chest, the goo thick and sticky between them. Tony had been standing stock still, but he blinked and focused intently on Steve, flexing his fingers lightly against the firm muscle.

As his fingers moved, there was a wet squelching sound from the slime and Steve delighted in the viscerality of it. He stood and tugged his shirt off his arms, throwing it to the floor without a second thought. His mind was now totally focused on Tony: on his fingers, his hands, the way his forearms disappeared into the heavy machinery of the armor, the gel that slid between his body and the casing that held it.

Tony looked honest to god uncertain, which was disconcerting from someone as forward as he usually was. Steve knew that Tony wanted it, knew that he wanted him. He wasn’t that subtle in the way that he stared at Steve when he thought no one was looking, or in how he made such a show of bringing home women that made it clear he was covering for something. Steve wasn’t in the mood to take up their dance around each other yet again: he wanted something more direct.

He decided to take pity on Tony, who was looking lost, and give him some guidance. “Why don’t you start with my back?” he suggested, turning around and addressing Tony over his shoulder. Anticipation thrummed inside of him.

Tony looked dumly down at his sticky hands for a moment before his eyes snapped up to Steve, taking him in hungrily. “Uhh… ok… yeah,” he said, and Steve felt a little bit smug at how wide Tony’s eyes were and the feeling of desire that was emanating off him.

Steve sat backwards in his chair and let Tony walk up behind him, necessarily close in the small office. Even though he was expecting it, when Tony’s slick fingers touched his back he shivered, sensations zipping across his skin. Tony moved his hands in slow, gentle circles, feeling out the planes of his back. As he dragged a messy hand over a shoulder blade Steve twitched, the muscle still taut from his earlier stresses.

“Hmm.” Tony made that small, curious noise which Steve recognised from watching him puzzle something out some new piece of tech. His fingers probed at the sensitive spot, digging in more firmly to release the tension there. Steve was acutely aware of the slip of the gel under Tony’s hands as they worked at the bunched up muscles.

He had been right: Tony was good at this. He located every tender spot in Steve’s back with uncanny accuracy and set to unknotting the muscles, starting off light and progressing to more firm pushes of his thumbs to get deep into the tissue. At one point, Tony bunched up his fist and used his knuckles to dig deep into a knot near Steve’s spine and Steve heard himself moan aloud.

The sensation was good, very good, but it didn’t quiet the burning restlessness that bristled under his skin. He wanted more, wanted something deeper, wanted Tony to open him up and spread him wide. He wanted to be gasping and desperate and messy, to feel like a man for once and not a goddamn statue.

“How you doing there, sweetheart?” Tony asked quietly, his hands stilling. For once the endearment didn’t sound sarcastic. He sounded nervous still, as if he thought he was being judged and found wanting.

Steve dropped the confident smirk that had carried him thus far and looked round to let Tony see a little bit of the weariness that always lurked beneath his surface. “‘S good,” he said, honestly. “After the month we’ve had, I needed this.”

Tony saw Steve’s honesty for what it was and beamed at him. Not one of those elegant smiles that Tony pulled out for the press, but the look that he got when Steve punched someone in the face or refused to take orders from SHIELD. That fondness, with a hint of pride. “You deserve it,” he said and Steve felt a little glow of warmth.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Tony asked, his tone carefully light. No pressure, but an opportunity, and one Steve was greedy for today.

Steve stood from the chair, drawing himself up to his full height and rounding on Tony. Tony’s eyes were wild when Steve stepped close enough to touch him, flicking over Steve’s chest and away like he didn’t want to be caught staring.

Steve put a finger under Tony’s chin, the hair of his goatee coarse against his finger, and he titled Tony’s face upwards to meet his own. “You missed a spot,” he said, letting his gaze bore into Tony.

Then he stepped back, and faking a confidence he wasn’t fully sure he felt, he unzipped his pants. He could feel Tony’s focus zoom in and he pushed the pants down to his knees, his cock already half hard and clearly outlined against his briefs.

Tony looked alternately like all his Christmases had come at once, and like he might pass out at any moment. Steve was secretly relieved that he hadn’t broken whatever this was between them tonight: Tony certainly didn’t seem to object to taking this further.

Tony still wasn’t moving though, just standing and staring at Steve. Steve decided that now was not the time to be shy about asking for what he wanted.

He shoved his briefs down to his knees as well, letting Tony take in the view, and used a hand to give himself a quick teasing squeeze. Then his eyes flicked to his desk, still covered in state paperwork and god knows what else.

“You could bend me over the desk,” he suggested mildly. How wondered how explicit he was going to have to be to get what he wanted. “It might help with the… traction.”

That finally got Tony to move. He practically ran to Steve’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder and encouraging him to bend over. Steve smiled and acquiesced, letting Tony position him so that his chest was on the desk, with his legs planted on the floor but his pants around his knees restricting him so that he couldn’t easily move.

Tony stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Steve,” he breathed.

Steve wriggled impatiently, wanting Tony’s messy hands on him now, wanting everything that Tony had to offer. He looked up from the desk and raised his chin in challenge. “Come and get it, Stark,” he huffed, enjoying the way that Tony’s breathing picked up again as he stepped closer.

As instructed, Tony grabbed a handful of Steve’s ass, hard enough to dig his fingers into the flesh. The blunt pressure of his fingers contrasted with the slick slide of the lube and the air emptied out of Steve’s lungs with a whoosh. Tony made that pleased, curious noise again and squeezed harder.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, to encourage Tony to keep going, but he didn’t get the chance. Tony brought his hand down flat on Steve’s ass, hard enough to make a ringing slap, and Steve gasped as he rocked forward over the desk. This was not something he had anticipated, but the sharp stinging slap had him rock hard and ready for more.

Tony seemed to notice the effect he was having on Steve and pressed his advantage. He spanked Steve again a few more times, bringing his hand down in sharp smacks that sent zings of sensation straight to his cock. Steve was breathing hard, ready to go off already even though Tony had barely touched him. He could feel the sweat sliding down his back along with the squelch of the contract gel that Tony was smearing all over him. He felt filthy in the best possible way.

“You like that, hmm?” Tony asked, and he was getting into it now. Steve could hear the confident edge creeping into his voice, knew that he could see just how much Steve was enjoying this. He wanted more of that, wanted Tony to let go and give Steve everything he had.

“Yeah, I like it,” Steve purred. He tried to goad Tony into more. “I’d like it even more if you would stop teasing and get your fingers inside me.”

Steve turned his head enough to see Tony’s eyes go wide, his pupils blown out into dark orbs. Tony nodded and swallowed, and Steve tracked the movements of his throat with his eyes.

“I can do that, darling,” Tony said, and Steve tried not to huff when he stepped back and took his hands off Steve. Fortunately he was soon distracted by the sight of Tony undressing, releasing the clasps of the upper arms and the chest plate of the amor. The pieces detached with a pneumatic hiss and peeled away to reveal tan skin covered in more of the thick green goo.

Steve stared as Tony tossed the pieces of armor to the floor, his muscles flexing beneath the layer of gel covering his torso. His skin tingled with anticipation, a drumbeat of desire sounding deep inside him.

When Tony stepped back behind the desk, he ran a hand tenderly through Steve’s hair and then settled it firmly between Steve’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the desk. Steve could have pushed Tony off, certainly, but he enjoyed the feeling of being held and directed. Tony pulled his pants and underwear off and Steve adjusted his legs, unconsciously spreading his them wider.

“Mmm, that’s good,” Tony encouraged, slipping a slick hand between Steve’s thighs and encouraging them to open more. The sensation of cool lube against his sensitive inner thighs tickled, making him twitch as Tony gently stroked up towards his balls.

Steve felt momentarily self conscious, acutely aware that he was naked and streaked with slime, spread open over his desk and so hungry for Tony. He shoved the thought aside and focused back on the sensation of Tony’s fingers which were now playing slick lines over his buttocks.

“You ready?” Tony asked, ever the gentleman, and Steve had to bite back a growl of frustration.

“Get on with it,” he huffed out sullenly, and Tony laughed joyfully.

“You’re so demanding,” he teased, but the warmth in his tone was clear. He swiped his hand over his own abs, covering them in more of the green gel in a motion that made Steve’s mouth go dry.

Then, finally, Steve felt Tony’s hand slide between his cheeks, stroking in delicate lines up and down. Every time a fingertip brushed his hole, Steve felt his cock twitch where it was trapped between his body and the desk.

The tips of Tony’s fingers were cool and the gel eased their pathway so everything was smooth and slick. When Tony gently slid a finger inside him, Steve bit his lip and clenched down, the feeling already making him flush all over.

“Easy, big guy,” Tony soothed, fucking him torturously slowly with one finger. Steve felt the movements inside him, a fingertip pulling against his walls, slick gel easing its passage.

“More,” Steve moaned, and for once Tony didn’t argue. He added a second finger, stretching Steve wider open and making obscene noises as his fingers slid in and out. Steve moaned in satisfaction, at last getting the feeling of messy openness that he had been craving.

Tony went harder, pushing his fingers in and out with more force, curling them so that they scraped along the inside of Steve’s walls. When he pushed deep enough his fingers brushed over Steve’s prostate, sending electricity crackling through his whole body.

Steve let himself unreel, slipping into a fuzzy state of half consciousness as Tony went to work taking him apart with his fingers. His focus narrowed to the sensations sparkling out from inside him, the sound of heavy breathing and the damp air cooling on his skin.

The movement stoked the fire within him, building until he wanted more and more of Tony. He looked round, cheek pressed against the desk, to see Tony with an expression of intense concentration on his face. Catching his eye, Tony smiled sweetly and leaned forward, draping his chest over Steve’s back. Steve hummed contentedly at the warmth of Tony’s body against his and the feeling of the gel squishing between them, Tony’s fingers still playing mercilessly inside him.

“More,” Steve rasped out again. He could feel Tony’s breathing against his back, felt the hitch of his chest when Steve showed his hunger. Tony stood back and Steve let out a little gasp as the air cooled the gel now smeared over his back.

Tony brought up his left hand and grasped the back of Steve’s neck, holding him in place while he fucked him harder with his fingers. Steve twitched, feeling the pressure build low in his stomach and knowing that he was getting close.

“You do like that,” Tony said, his voice rough. “Look at you, filthy and so hard for me.” He grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair, using it as leverage to thrust into him harder with his other hand. Steve’s scalp prickled, the blood rushing under his skin as the pain formed a perfect counterpart to the pleasure.

Steve teetered on the edge, standing on the precipice and ready to slide down into the darkness beneath.

“Messy, messy, messy,” Tony tutted, scissoring his fingers as he did so that every nerve inside Steve lit up in a blinding flash. With a gutternal moan Steve tensed all over and then released, orgasm washing over him like a heavy silk blanket pulled across his vision. He felt his cock twitching and pulsing beneath him, adding to the sticky mess already streaked across his chest, and he floated gently, finally achieving some measure of calm.

He came back to himself to find Tony gently petting his hair, then running a friendly hand down the slime and sweat on Steve’s back. Steve tried to roll onto his side, but his skin stuck to everything on his desk and he had to peel bits of paperwork off his body.

“Better?” Tony asked warmly.

“Much,” Steve sighed. He felt sated and human for the first time in weeks.

“You look good, you know,” Tony sounded raspy, “all covered in filth.”

Steve smiled stickily. “I feel good.”

“How would you feel if I, uhh, added to that mess?”

Steve looked around, his head still woozy, trying to understand what Tony was asking. He saw how Tony was reaching to unclasp the plates of armor from around his waist, the groin piece falling to the floor and letting Tony’s cock bounce free. Tony was rock hard, his cock a deep shade of red at the tip, and it must have been excruciating for him to have kept that under wraps.

Steve thought about Tony getting off on what they were doing, of how hard he’d been while fingering Steve, of how much he clearly wanted to bring himself off. The thought of him marking Steve with his come made his cock twitch again in a valiant attempt to reassert itself.

“That sounds good, Tony,” Steve breathed, and the moment the words were out of his mouth Tony wrapped his hands around his cock, pumping hard and fast. It must have been almost painful, and Tony stopped to scoop another handful of the green slime to use as lubricant so that lewd squelching sounds filled the office.

Steve stayed collapsed over his desk but twisted to look at Tony, to watch the way his hand moved in fast, firm strokes and how his eyes raked over every inch of Steve’s exposed skin. It didn’t take long before Tony was panting, his rhythm becoming choppy and erratic.

Steve drank in the show, admiring the contrast of the thick green streaks against Tony’s tan skin. “That it’s, Tony. Come on, mark me up.” He trailed a hand up his thigh, spreading the mess there invitingly. Quickly, Tony’s breath hitched and he stepped closer, groaning out Steve’s name as he came in thick bursts which ran down Steve’s ass and thighs.

Humming with contentment, Steve stretched across the desk and let himself luxuriate in the sensations. Tony’s hands were petting him all over, the affection in their motions clear. Steve slowly sat up and tugged Tony into his arms, letting his head flop onto his shoulder.

“Does this mean I get to be vice president?” Tony mumbled woozily.

Steve’s own laugh took him by surprise, a sharp bark that had become almost unfamiliar to him recently. “I don’t think that’s how presidential nominations are supposed to work.”

“Hmph. Politicians have no sense of fun.”

Steve pushed Tony back enough that he could see his face and gently brushed a strand of sweaty hair off his forehead. They were both so sticky that all Steve really accomplished was streaking gel across Tony’s face and into his hair.

“Rogers - Stark 2012,” Steve mused, imaging their election ticket. “It does have a good ring to it. What’s the VP supposed to do anyway?”

Tony shrugged languidly. “Service the president in whatever manner is required.”

Steve felt himself grinning, a long-forgotten warmth blooming in his chest. “In that case, Mr. Acting Vice President, I can confirm that you’re doing a splendid job so far.”