Steve stood up. “All right. If you’re so sure about this hush field, let’s test it.”
“What?” said Tony. “I mean, sure, but.. Here? Now?”
Steve stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “Friday, we’re going into the hush field now. Don’t panic if your sensors don’t pick up vital signs or visuals on us for… oh, let’s say ten minutes.”
“Of course now, Captain. Dampening alarm subroutines on your mark,” chirped Friday.
Steve glared around the room. “We are not to be interrupted for any reason short of Armageddon for ten minutes. Anyone who does can pay Stark’s consulting fees for the past hour out of their own pocket. Friday. Ten minutes. Now!” Uncomfortable glances shot around the conference table.
“We?” Tony repeated. “Who’s ‘we?' Oh!” Rogers wrapped one broad hand around the nape of his neck and marched him like a recalcitrant child, straight into the hexagon of painters’ tape marking the edge of the field. “Oh! Wow!” he waved at the fidgeting members of the meeting. “Hey, guys! Over here! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!” he called, and executed a complex series of claps against his body, ending with his hands in his ears and his tongue blowing a raspberry. “Two million to the first person who touches their nose…” No-one reacted. “This is great!”
Steve withdrew his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “Finished?”
The glee left Stark’s face as he realized they were… together. Alone. For the first time in years. “Uh, yeah. So… how’ve you been?” He breathed into the pounding in his chest. Easy, easy. Spackenkill. Flower Hill. Schoolhouse Lane. Kinderhook...He can’t have changed, not that much. He won’t hurt me. He won’t hurt me. Spackenkill, Flower Hill...
“We need to talk, Tony,” Steve said, and how could eyes look so hard? Steve shook his head. “No. You don’t need to talk.”
Tony lifted his chin, met Steve’s eyes, and refused to blink. “Is that so? You think so?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” And then his friend, the man he trusted beyond life once upon a time, did the unthinkable, the thing that Stark would never, not in a million, a trillion years begin to dream his best friend was capable of.
Steve wet his lips and said, “Kneel.”
Okay, that was worth blinking about. Tony cocked his head.
“Did I stutter? You have,” Steve concentrated, “eight minutes and fifty-two seconds before they come barreling in here to congratulate you on your brilliance… assuming the field doesn’t collapse first. I think there are some things you don’t want them to see. So,” and he used the voice, the Captain America voice, the command voice, and wasn’t that unfair? “Kneel.” And the room swam and his ears roared and his traitorous knees gave out beneath him. “Isn’t that better?” Steve all but crooned. “Now. You’re going to open your pants, and you’re going to touch yourself. Right now. With everyone right there, like the slut you are.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Tony demanded, but something inside him must have understood, because his hands were scrabbling at his belt buckle and parting the zipper of his bespoke suit and his cock had sprung to attention as if he were 16 again.
“That’s it… no, just stroke, for now. Up the shaft, around the head… light touches, Tony.”
Tony shivered, keeping his eyes on Steve’s. This was… exquisite. Steve nodded in approval, pupils dilating with desire. “Seven minutes, eight seconds.” He traced the outlines of his cock, barely grazing it as he nodded back, eyes wide. “See, it’s been a while since we talked. I figured some things out.” The left corner of Steve’s mouth crooked in a smirk. “Might have read some things that ‘Tasha hacked." Steve leaned in until their foreheads almost touched. “Private things.”
A hint of defiance crept into Tony’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Tony. Nobody read them but me, and nobody will… if you’re good. You can cup your balls with your right hand, Tony. And you know what? All those nights we wasted, wanting the same things, aching for each other… longing… that’s not going to happen again… yes, just like that. Lick your hand, now. You don’t need that much, do you? You’re so wet for me already. You can grip it.”
Tony was shuddering, sweating, panting. He felt… reduced. He was thundering ears and straining cock, heavy balls, flying hands, tingling asshole, nipples wired, but most of all, he was eyes, being swallowed by Steve’s hungry gaze, the others milling about and murmuring at the edge of his vision. What if they could see him, reduced to this, this wanting… oh, God, the thought of it was so much… he didn’t want to care, didn’t want to make others a part of his perversion and yet that very thought... “St-Steve…” he grated out.
“No!” Steve ordered. “You’re not coming yet.” And miraculously, his orgasm, as inevitable as a plummeting stone, shuddered to a stop. “You’re going to tell me what you want, Tony. I want to hear it from you.”
Sprakenkill. Flower Hill. Schoolhouse Lane. “I want… I need you to touch me, Steve. Please touch me.”
And Steve’s fingers knotted in the hair behind his head, forcing Tony's gaze as if it could go anywhere else. “Damn right, you do,” he growled. “You are mine, Tony, mine and no-one else’s and I will touch you any time I want from now on.” And Tony’s body spasmed and trembled at the primal need in his lover’s voice, spattering the dark armor with white seed. Without taking his eyes off Tony’s, he scraped the cum off with the blade of his hand, pressing it to Tony’s mouth to suck clean. Tony laved his fingers, sucking them in until until he gagged a little.
“One minute, eight seconds. Put yourself together. I know you have a mirror on you. You know where my room is. I’ll expect you at 2200.”
Steve stepped out of the field’s range, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Did it work? It worked!” he exclaimed. He turned around, looking through Stark, grinning like a schoolboy who’d just discovered smoke bombs. “Gee, that’s neat! I can’t see you at all, Tony, your secrets are safe!” His eyes twinkled. “He quoted Monty Python. I think he thought I wouldn’t get the reference. Now, gentlemen, ma’am, moving on...”