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I Want to Teach You a Lesson (In the Worst Kind of Way)

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After the Chitauri, after the invasion of aliens, after almost dying, after shawarma and an exhausted night’s sleep, after another debriefing, and after arguing with Steve one more time, Tony isn’t looking for much out of life. Really. And he’s not expecting very much either. Fury “requests” he stay back after the debriefing. He waits until the room clears out to “ask” about the possibility of Tony being a tech consultant for discovered Chitauri items; weapons and such. Tony assures him if they find anything the kindergarteners in their joke of an R and D department can’t figure out, he’d be annoyed as fuck but willing to bitch about it and take a look.

So now he’s free, and again, not looking for too much out of life. Free to go back to his wrecked tower and work on his wrecked suit. He moves gingerly, all too aware of the bruises littering his torso, grateful that all of his bones are gloriously unbroken.

His plans are simple. Go back to the Tower, plan repairs, start working on said repairs. He’s thinking take-out pizza may make an appearance somewhere along in there. Maybe Chinese.

So to say he’s surprised when a strong pair of hands seemingly reach out of nowhere as he’s going down a SHIELD hallway, and drag him into an empty, dimly lit conference room, that’s a bit of an understatement. A lot of an understatement, actually.

He’s not expecting the same hands that drug him in to press him against the nearest wall and grip his hips with maddening pressure as soft, insistent lips crash against his. This wasn’t in his plan for the day, but these kinds of activities? He’s always up for. He presses back, and doesn’t fight when a tongue slides in between his lips. It takes a few minutes of letting this unknown person lick into his mouth before he realizes he’s letting an unknown person lick into his mouth. He’s all for spontaneous make-out sessions, and whoever this is, they’re not half-bad, but you know, maybe he should know who he’s making out with. He reaches out and runs his hands over the body in front of him. He keeps his eyes shut, and, In lieu of actually being able to see, his hands map out an image in his mind. He gasps against the mouth on his when he realizes it’s Steve. His cock goes from mildly interested to rock-fucking-hard in a matter of seconds.

Too many questions start warring in his mind, mainly focusing on Steve’s sexual orientation and why he’s chosen to slam Tony, of all people, into a wall; and he almost loses focus. Almost. Fortunately, a rough hand grabbing his hair and pulling gets his full attention and he breaks the kiss to bare his throat, head knocking against the wall behind him. His breath is coming in shallow gasps and they haven’t even gotten to second base.

Oh, he hopes they get to second base.

Suddenly, Steve pulls back, putting a foot or so of space between them. While it’s dim the in the room, Tony’s eyes have adjusted enough to take in the sight of Steve standing in front of him, tall and intimidating. He’s still wearing the Captain America suit he wore to the debriefing, sans the gloves and cowl, and Tony’s afraid he might swallow his tongue.

“Strip.” Steve commands, and Tony raises his gaze away from the costume to meet Steve’s eyes. He briefly wonders why Steve doesn’t strip him down himself. He’s obviously in full ‘dominant’ mode, judging from the stance, voice and wall-shoving antics, so why not tear his clothes off while he’s at it, instead of giving him full, easy access to the door? Then it hits him.

This is Steve asking for consent. Tony has to admit, his method is kind of brilliant. He’s giving Tony the opportunity to either agree to whatever sex game this is going to be, or walk out, no harm, no foul. Let Tony say ‘yes’ by willfully submitting and making himself vulnerable.

Tony slowly reaches down, partly for dramatic effect, partly because his muscles still ache, and grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, tossing it aside. He doesn’t take his eyes off Steve’s, still staring at him cold, and unflinching. The moment is tense, but the best kind, expectant and electric. He breaks his gaze long enough to unbutton his jeans and kick them off with his shoes and socks. He’s left in nothing but his black boxers, and Steve reaches up, only to lock the door. Game on.

“All the way.” Steve says, voice low and dangerous.

“Why? What are you planning on doing to me?” Tony asks, aiming for some brand of smartass playful-coy, and apparently, that was either the completely wrong thing to say, or the perfect thing. Steve grabs him by throat, knocking the back of his head against the wall with a thud and making Tony groan.

“For once,” He says, and Tony can’t suppress a shiver at the tone, “you’re not going to question me, or contradict me. You’re going to do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. No complaints, no questions. Understand?”

For one fleeting moment, Tony almost says ‘no.’ Almost. Then he gathers just enough sense to nod as best he can with Steve’s fingers still wrapped around his neck and damn, he wishes he’d gotten up the courage to speak, instead of being mildly intimidated and speechless. As much as he’s enjoying the game, he would like a little more dignity than that.

Of course, he really shouldn’t have expected any of his dignity to last long, seeing as how, within four seconds of the words leaving his mouth, he’s bent over the conference table, boxers lost on the floor somewhere between the wall and the table. His muscles ache and he groans again, this time at the conflicting feelings of sore muscles and waves of lust surging through him. He stays where he is, doesn’t bother putting up a token resistance. Steve’s legs bracketing his, and he leaves his hands on the table palms down.

“You realize we’re gonna need lube, if you’re planning what I think you are, right?” He asks, after a moment, and his question is punctuated with a gasp as two, well-lubed fingers are pushed into him without warning.

“God, you never learn, do you?” Steve reprimands, roughly fucking into Tony with his fingers. He obviously doesn’t care too much about Tony’s comfort, his fingers pushing and scissoring as efficiently as possible. They brush against his prostate occasionally, but Tony can tell it’s not on purpose. His pleasure isn’t even a vague consideration as Steve stretches him open. He has a feeling this is about as much foreplay as he can expect. “Stop questioning me, and just let me do what I want.” Tony nods, cheek pressed to the table.

He may not be focusing on Tony’s enjoyment, but hell, it feels pretty amazing anyway. It’s been a long time since Tony took it up the ass and he forgot how much he loves the stretch and burn of being prepped to be fucked. He bites back a groan, teeth digging into his lower lip, and that catches Steve’s attention. He leans forward, the chest of his suit pressing into Tony’s bare back, “Don’t. Don’t hide from me.” He says, voice the softest it’s been since they started. “I want to hear you. I want you to enjoy this. I just want you to give up. Stop trying to demand your way and let me have my way. I promise,” He says, voice dropping to a whisper, “you’ll like it.”

Tony really does moan at that, lips parted, eyes shut, and a third finger pressing into him, twisting slightly. He surrenders in that moment, knowing that from this moment out, he’ll do whatever Steve asks, commands or suggests. It’s too good to fight. His cock is leaking onto the table, a steady stream of his body’s obvious compliance.

The fingers slide out of him, and he only has a second or two to try and regain his sanity before the blunt head of Steve’s cock is breaching him open. The fingers were good, but not entirely sufficient, Steve’s cock is forcing him open to accommodate his size, and Steve’s well-gifted in that department. Tony squeezes his eyes shut harder the intrusion, letting out a moan loud enough anyone in the hallway knows exactly what’s going on. Steve doesn’t slow down, though, determinedly pushing in until Tony can feel the leather of Steve’s pants against the back of his legs, his full length settled deep in Tony’s ass.

The fucker didn’t even get naked. Another opportunity, Tony supposes, to declare his dominance in the situation; staying clothed while forcing Tony to strip naked. His cock is huge and Tony feels completely taken and possessed as Steve pulls out almost entirely and shoves himself back in. He pulls back out, leaving just the head of his dick inside and thrusts forward to do it again, and again, Tony feels the breath get knocked out of his lungs with each repetition. His moans have devolved into broken, desperate gasps and sweat collects at his temples as Steve plows into him, over and over. Finally, Steve starts favoring speed for depth, pulling out just enough to pump back in, setting a brutally harsh pace.

“This is what it takes to finally shut you up, huh?” Steve asks, voice rough, “I figured it would take a good pounding to make you be quiet, let someone else do the talking, the thinking, for once. God, you’re so easy. I knew you wanted this.”

Tony hasn’t come untouched since he was 24. He’s thinking that’s about to change, regardless of the fact Steve isn’t quite aiming right to hit Tony in the prostate, just inadvertently brushing it every so often. Steve grips his hips and forces Tony to slam back against him with every thrust. He can hear Steve’s breath coming in harsh gasps, and he’s silently thrilled to know Steve’s as affected as he is. He claws at the table futilely as Steve continues to abuse his ass in the most delicious way possible.

He’s momentarily shocked when Steve pulls out completely, and he groans loudly in disappointment. Fortunately, he’s not disappointed for long, as Steve turns him on to his back, wrapping Tony’s legs around his hips and forcing himself back into Tony without any hesitation. Steve must’ve figured out he was at the wrong angle, because now, he’s obviously positioning Tony. Pulling him closer to the edge of the table and tilting Tony’s hips up, just enough, and now every hard thrust hits Tony right in the prostate, making him bite his lip to muffle his shout. The fucking before somehow seems like warm-up for this, this mind-blowing onslaught of pleasure that doesn’t slow down, and doesn’t ease up. Just keeps hitting Tony in the best places over and over, and he gladly surrenders his body to let Steve do whatever he wants. Steve was right, he’s definitely fucking enjoying this.

His hands settle on Tony’s hips, holding him right where Steve wants him. His grip is iron, Tony can’t move his hips an inch, not even to thrust back against Steve, and he knows he’s not going anywhere unless Steve allows it. He can’t help the small whine that escapes him at the feeling of helplessness and the sharp hit of arousal. Tony can’t wait to see the bruises Steve’s hands will leave; individual fingerprints, small and beautiful, next to the large, ugly ones, already marring his torso.

His orgasm starts building, he can feel it climbing his spine and it’s a wonderful tension, building deep inside of himself. It’s not enough, though, and he instantly realizes he won’t be coming untouched, and without thinking, he reaches down to jack himself off.

His hand doesn’t even get close before Steve is letting go of Tony’s hips to pin his wrists against the table. Tony’s instantaneous reaction is to dig his heels into the leather back of Steve’s uniform, desperate for Steve to stay right where he is.

“No.” Steve says, bending forward to lick at Tony’s jawline, hips still thrusting. “No touching yourself.”

“Fuck, Steve, you- you gotta let me come.” Tony manages to choke out.

“No,” Steve whispers again against his skin, still fucking Tony’s ass with a brutal rhythm, “I don’t have to let you do anything. You come when I say you can. For once, you’re gonna do what I tell you.”

“Steve.” Tony grinds out, tilting his head back, and he knows he is the picture of total submission right now. Eyes shut, throat openly bared to Steve who’s taking the opportunity to bite marks into Tony’s collarbone, wrists pinned, ass being pounded open and Tony only having enough sense to beg, ‘more, please, harder.’ He’s mildly sure he should feel something like embarrassment or shame at this point for letting himself be so used. Oh, well. Maybe after. Probably not.

Steve pulls back, letting go of Tony’s wrists and running his hands over Tony’s chest. Suddenly, in a heart-stopping moment, Tony realizes he’s completely naked. In front of Steve. Who’s never seen Tony naked before. Fuck. His mind immediately flashes to an image of the reactor embedded in his chest and the web of scars branching out from it. Tony’s eyes snap open at the feel of Steve’s fingers ghosting over those same scars, but when he looks at Steve’s expression, he sees nothing more than wonder-blown lust and a predatory gleam. No fear, no pity. Tony would breathe a sigh of relief if Steve would stop fucking him long enough to let him breathe properly.

His fingers continue their trail, over purpling bruises, and Tony notes how actually careful Steve has been with him, pulling and pushing him into position without ever causing any kind of real damage. The soreness of his muscles only serving to be a powerful counterpoint to Steve still pistoning into him, taking full advantage of his ridiculous stamina. The pain and pleasure mixing into a mind-numbing combo.

His orgasm is right there, right in front of him if he could just reach out and grab it, but as fantastic as Steve’s dick is, it’s not enough. and Tony groans in frustration, slapping his palms down against the table and shutting his eyes again, aware of Steve watching his every move. His dicks is throbbing so hard it hurts, pre-come leaking generously onto his stomach. It takes him a moment to realize his outright writhing on the table in desperation. He’s done everything Steve wants, stripped naked, let Steve position him, prep him, and fuck him like a goddamn machine and he’s resisted the urge to bring himself off; what else can he possibly do?

“Tony,” Steve says, breathlessly, his hands sliding down Tony’s thighs and back up, “Tony, look at me.” Tony forces his eyes open and manages to lock his gaze with Steve’s. “Do it. Come. Now.

And fuck, Tony’s entire world view is shattered as his body convulses, whether an amazing coincidence or an instantaneous response to Steve’s command, he’s not sure, but his bruised muscles contract, littering his orgasm with splashes of pain which just adds to the intensity. His world whites out and he’s aware he’s making noise, but he can’t focus on anything besides the surge of pleasure wracking his body. He’s just starting to come down, overly sensitive hole aching from being abused when he realizes Steve hasn’t slowed down. Not even a little. He can feel his release cooling on his abs, his cock softening and Steve isn’t adjusting his speed, whether to slow down and let Tony breath, or go faster and chase his own orgasm.

He’s keeping the same rhythm he started with, stretching out the aftershocks of Tony’s orgasm.

“That’s one.” Steve says, like there could possibly be more to follow, and Tony feels his eyes water as he lets out a rueful laugh, muscles shaking.

“Sorry, Cap.” He says, grinning slightly, “One is pretty much the limit for me.”

Steve moves, gripping Tony’s jaw with one hand and kissing him soundly. “You’ll come again, whether you think you can or not.” He says, confidently, lips brushing against Tony’s, “I’m going to make you.”

Tony won’t lie, the surge of arousal that hits him is akin to a punch in the gut, and he feels his dick give a valiant effort to raise again, but no such luck.

He is however, content to let Steve fuck him until he gets the hint and realize Tony wasn’t lying. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, sore, yes, but he’s okay with that, as Steve keeps going, finally appearing to break a sweat. Tony doesn’t resist the urge to run his fingers through Steve’s sweat damp hair, and he’s amazed when Steve doesn’t stop him, just stares into Tony’s eyes as does it.

Minutes pass in bliss, Steve never faltering, just adjusting his angle every so often and both of them trying to remember how to breathe. Tony doesn’t move his hands out of Steve’s hair, just shuts his eyes and holds on for the ride. He has to admit, for a brief moment he actually considers telling Steve to stop. As good as this all is, his ass really is starting to hurt, and his muscles ache, and a small part of him wants to know who the fuck Steve thinks he is. But he knows better. He knows, like he knows his own name, if he says ‘stop,’ Steve will. He knows it, and he finally lets himself acknowledge he doesn’t actually want that, pain be damned, so he stamps down the urge and lets out a breathless moan, instead.

Tony gets his second surprise of the day when he realizes the weird feeling in his stomach is another orgasm working it’s way into existence, and holy fuck, he’s actually hard again.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, staring at his own hard dick, and Steve laughs, breathless and beautiful.

“Told you.” He says, and Tony would normally start mocking him for sounding so fucking self-satisfied, but frankly, he’s too deep in sensory overload to care. His head falls back against the table and Tony lets go of Steve’s hair to grip his leather covered biceps.

Unlike the first one, this one doesn’t come to completion without a little help, and it’s a few more minutes of mindless fucking before Steve grants Tony mercy, reaching down and gripping Tony’s cock, jerking him roughly.

The feel of Steve’s huge fucking hands wrapped around his dick is the final piece needed for Tony to arch into his second orgasm, previously completely unaware he was even capable of coming twice in such succession. His abs are cramping with every spasm as he comes a pathetically small amount onto the jizz already dried on his stomach, white flecks on shades of purple, bruised flesh. He doesn’t hold back his groan of relief as Steve finally, mercifully pulls out, letting Tony drag in deep breaths.

“You didn’t come.” Tony says eyes still shut, body aching in all the best ways.

“I will.” Steve says, patiently, “Just giving you a minute.”

“Before you continue to ream my ass?”

“Before I get you on your knees and fuck your throat.” He says, point blank and even, and Tony can’t help the momentary shock at Steve’s blunt answer. After a few seconds, he lets out a deep sigh. You know, Tony remembers when he had pride. He remembers when he had a modicum of dignity. He sees an opportunity to bring both of those back into his life, but then he’s taking a deep, slow breath and mentally waving goodbye to them, pulling himself off the table to willingly kneel at Steve’s feet.

He moves slower than he’d like to admit, bruises and sore muscles protesting, his age making itself known; but it’s worth the ache and effort when he finally gets himself into a tolerable position, looks up, and sees Steve staring down at him. His expression a mixture of self-pride, no doubt at the fact that he’s got Tony in this position, and something close to reverence. It’s startling to say the least, given how Steve had unceremoniously just fucked him over a table. He doesn’t hate it, though. In fact, it kinda makes Tony want to kneel at his feet every day for the rest of his life, as long as Steve keeps looking at him like that.

“What do you want?” Steve asks, and Tony should’ve known better than to think Steve wouldn’t make him beg. He can see the last of his pride going down the drain, when he looks from Steve’s gaze to the hard, proud cock in front of his face. The condom was thrown on the floor at some point, so every vein, every ridge, is beautifully on display, and it may be the most delicious looking cock Tony has ever fucking seen.

“Please,” Tony starts, tearing his gaze away from admiring Steve’s dick, back up to his face, “I want you to do it.”

“Do what?” Steve asks, running a hand through Tony’s hair, stroking him like a pet, and Tony leans into it. He didn’t realize he’d enjoy submitting quite this much, always the dominant, pushy one in past experiences. He wonders to himself if it’s the act of submission he’s enjoying, or submitting himself over to Steve. He doesn’t particularly care.

“Make me choke on your cock, please. Shove it down my throat until I can’t breathe, and fuck my mouth until you make me swallow your come. It’s all I want, please. I want it, I swear.” He’s decided if he’s going to be the submissive bottom in this situation, he’s going all the fucking way. For Tony, that includes saying whatever the fuck he thinks Steve wants to hear. If Steve asked him to suck his own dick at this point, Tony’s pretty sure he’d break a rib trying. Tony is gratified when Steve bites his lip, and moves his hand to run his thumb over Tony’s parted lips, making him shiver in anticipation. To be fair, he wasn’t lying. In this moment, all he wants is to feel the weight and feel of Steve’s cock being rammed down his throat.

It’s a relief when Steve holds Tony’s head still with the hand on his jaw, and uses his other hand to guide his dick into Tony’s mouth, open wide and almost dripping with saliva in anticipation.

His cock throbs, a pathetic attempt to get hard again, as the smooth skin of Steve’s cock slides into Tony’s mouth, the tip already wet with precome, salty and perfect. Steve doesn’t give him a second to adjust or try to angle his jaw into something more comfortable before he pushes all the way in. Tony has to suppress a gag as Steve’s full length is engulfed in his mouth. Steve uses both of his hands on Tony’s jaw to pull him forward, Tony’s own hands coming up to grip at the leather at the back of Steve’s thighs. He pulls Tony forward until the tip of his cock is cutting off Tony’s air supply, and Tony’s face is brushing up against the uniform at the base of Steve’s dick.

Steve holds him there for a moment, and Tony can hear him breathing hard, knows from experience that Steve’s heart is most likely beating out of his chest, and then Steve just lets go, and starts brutally fucking into Tony’s throat, all self-control vanished. The pounding Steve was giving Tony’s ass a few minutes ago suddenly seems delicate to the neanderthal way Steve is relentlessly shoving his dick down Tony’s throat now. He’s working his ass off to try and breathe as best he can when Steve withdraws, but his chances are few and far between. Steve’s mercilessly using Tony’s throat, obviously concerned now with nothing but his own release, and Tony is torn between gasping for breath around Steve’s cock, and listening to Steve’s endless ramble of “Good boy, just like that. Fuck, you’re so good, letting me have you. Better use for your mouth than fighting me, huh? Should let me do this every time you start arguing with me. Show you want your mouth was made for, fuck.”

Tony’s lost. He’s nowhere near being able to come, but being used so carelessly is apparently, it’s own kind of euphoria and Tony’s completely given up to it. Dots of light dance in his vision, and he’s aware he can only do this for so long before he passes out. It’s a few more hard thrusts later that Steve pulls back a few inches, letting Tony breathe through his nose, and Tony inhales deep while still sucking on the portion of Steve’s dick still in his mouth. He rubs the flat of his tongue on the underside of it, making Steve’s breath stutter. It’s only a few moments reprieve though, before Steve goes right back to plunging his dick down Tony’s throat with an approving groan.

Steve is holding Tony’s head in place, pulling him forward as he thrusts in, and thankfully, it’s a second later that Steve yanks him as far forward as he can, Tony’s nose brushing against his uniform, and he shoots his load down Tony’s throat, making him gag for the first time. Steve doesn’t pull away though, just rocks slightly deeper into Tony’s mouth as he rides his orgasm out.

Tony’s vision is spotted with dark marks and his throat is burning, his cock is aching with the effort of trying to get hard again, almost every muscle in his body is starting to cramp and his ribs throb when he breathes. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, and he’s never been as blissed out as he is right in the moment that Steve’ pulls all the way out. He looks up at Steve, water leaking out the corners of his eyes, a mixture of spit and unswallowed come sliding down his chin and neck, drops caught in his beard, and he know he looks just as wrecked as he feels.

Steve looks down at him with that look again, the one where he looks so fucking proud and cocky to have brought Tony to his knees while simultaneously looking amazed and honored that he got Tony on his knees. Tony’s helpless to do anything but stare back, panting hard. Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, never breaking eye-contact, as Tony struggles to get his breath back.

“So, the next time I give you an order, are you gonna argue with me?” Steve asks, voice hushed and an amazingly gentle counterpoint to their activities.

Tony swallows and fuck, his throat is going to hurt for days. His voice is a harsh croak when he answers, “Probably, yeah.”

Steve grins as he slides his thumb over Tony’s parted, swollen lips, smearing them with his come and Tony’s spit.