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Latent Phallacy

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Not now.

They were in the middle of nowhere fighting off an army of goons of some new Dr. Big-Baddy or Professor Really-Up-To-No-Good. Tony couldn’t remember the names of all the wanna-be villains that were popping up lately. This one had at least bothered to hire mercenary-grade thugs that did not turn and run when they saw who they were up against. They had skill and equipment.

Not that it would be of any use. Not against Tony in the Bleeding Edge armor (even without Friday, who's interface he had yet to install). Not against Clint and Natasha, who were stunning and dropping men left and right. And not against the supersoldier duo, who were apparently having the time of their lives.

And that was the problem.

Tony had just looked over if they needed any support before he went into the underground lair to drive out what was most likely the last line of defense. They didn’t need any help. Barnes was using one guy as a ram to put two others out of commision leaving all three in a heap of tangled limbs.

Oh god, that was hot.

Tony just had time to recognize the tension building in his core when he felt it. The ripping of the undersuit, a cold presence between is ass cheeks, and then a blunt pressure to his hole, slipping in far too easy for his liking. It felt invasive, harsh and wrong.

Not now.

He avoided any reaction other than closing his eyes for a moment. He had managed so well until now. Sometimes controlled breathing and refocusing took care of it. But Barnes and Rogers used the mass of opponents as an opportunity to show off.

They were pulling out the moves that looked more like acrobatics than actual fighting. Hot acrobatics.

Rogers, not Steve, thinking of him as Steve just makes everything worse, Rogers had pulled a guy up and over him while doing some pirouette like move and Tony was able to suppress a whimper, but the suit reacted to his unspoken needs as it always did. The extension in his ass, a plug, it is a butt plug every time, you can admit as much to yourself, became wider, the nanoparticles smoothing the way much better than any lube ever could.

It felt so good. He shouldn’t be thinking this. Hell. He shouldn’t be feeling this.

He would have never admitted to himself he had any interest in Barnes or Rogers. Especially not in this way. But the nanotech armor reacted to his every thought and impulse. As it turned out, there were some subliminal emotions it picked up on too.

And isn’t that fun. No, it isn’t. And at the same time it was.

It started at the very first field test for the armor. Steve had thrown the shield to hit first one and, on its way back, another killer robot in the face and Tony had admired his technique, and you also admired the way his thighs were almost ripping apart his suit’s pants, when his own armor had formed a plug and shoved it in his ass. He had been lucky that the fight that time had ended soon after. It had been awful. He had felt dirty and almost raw and hardly managed to get back to his workshop to jerk off furiously while the suit-plug was still in place.

The plug in his ass now was disrupting Tony’s thoughts with a pull at his rim. Tony’s silent pleas to his dick to just stay down this time were completely ignored. It began to fill and pulse where it was pressed against his thigh.

The fight around him was still going but none of their opponents seemed inclined to engage the guy in the metal armor. They all were trying to get at the other four. He could move. And he needed to because disabling the suit, for which he would need the external jammer from the Quinjet, would leave him without any weapon or defensive measures. Not an option.

Ignore it. Try to be a decent human being just this once. It was just a plug after all. Bigger than the last one but still just a plug. Tony worked hard not to think about how good it would be if it shifted, thrusted in and out. What was wrong with him?

Why his subconscious translated his need to get dicked by either supersoldier into plugging him up anyway? He had no idea. But it left him in a state in which he was able to pretend that he wasn’t a giant pervert. He had done this several times already.

It’s not the armor’s fault if your subconscious is hideous place, it just acts it out for you.

And it wasn’t only his subconscious anymore. He’d had to face what was going on after the second time it happened, and after he was having day dreams of getting railed by Barnes or Nobles. He tried to get rid of them but he wasn’t a good man.

If he couldn’t stop these thoughts, he could at least save the supersoldiers and himself from the awkwardness of admitting to them. They didn’t need to know that he was fantasizing about barreling into the only working relationship in viewing distance. (Nobody knew what the weird thing was Nat and Clint had going on.) And they were happy. And looked good while being happy. And Tony was the degenerate not able to get through a fight without his armor picking up on his depraved neediness and shoving something into him. They are cute and wholesome and you are a creep.

If it would have just have been one of them, it would’ve been easier to excuse. But Tony was slutty like that. He knew that either of them doing their circus routine on the battlefield could cause the urge for the armor to cram foreign objects into him until he had trouble breathing. And if that doesn’t prove how terrible of a person you are...

Tony made a careful step towards the entrance that was obviously leading to the headquarters of Decan Evil-Or-Other. This is going to work and you can think about how broken you are after the mission.

A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head again, just in time to see Steve throw his shield to ricochet off one of the reinforced vehicles, keeping the driver from leaving it by denting the door heavily. Bucky caught the shield easily and turned with the impulse of it to cut down two grunts, who had made the mistake of thinking that there was no danger in closing in from the soldier's back. It was perfect in planning and execution. Nobody who saw it could ever think these two were anything other than made for each other.

Tony felt like being split apart. A second plug had formed and was pushed forward without any regard for what Tony wanted or was able to take. That is not how butt plugs work. You aren’t supposed to have two in there at the same time. Apparently some part of him thought he should. What was his subconscious doing?

The plug continued to push forward, its way smoothed by the ability to liquify its surface but still too much in any other way.

Tony felt his knees hit the ground, and only then realized he had lost the ability to keep himself up. He landed on all fours. The groan that left his mouth was not transferred outside of the suit. He still could control this. At least this.

The plug must have been wider than the other one, or it was just that it was the second one. The stretch felt impossible and it was still going on. His body was mixing the pain and much too much with another surge in pleasure.Tony couldn’t stop thinking This is not supposed to happen. But then already one wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wanted it to stop, the pain, the hot pressure in his abdomen, the way he was open and full in all the wrong ways. He didn’t want it and he especially didn’t want to like it.

He didn’t want to be lusting after one of the Brooklyn Boys either. And especially not after the two of them. Was that it? He was not so much indiscriminate about which one he was fantasizing, it was both of them at the same time. He was disgusting.

The armor pushed relentlessly forward, and it hurt, and Tony’s cock was throbbing.

He invented a revolutionary technology and brought it to application in a mind staggering time frame, but then everything was overtaken and soiled by who he really was and turned into this dirty reality. Maybe he deserved the pain that it was causing. He clenched his teeth, breathing through his nose. Yes, you deserve this. All of it. With a plop the second plug seated itself inside him.

“Tony, are you hurt? What is going on?” Tony was still facing the ground and started when Bucky spoke up. He must have been kneeling or cowering right beside him. Tony didn’t turn his head. Kept himself as still as possible. He was sure that Steve was there too.

Please, just go away. Just let me suffer without having to explain it too. Please.

But they wouldn’t just leave him. They were much too good for that. Much too good for him, but they didn’t know that. Yet.

Time to get his voice back under control. I’m okay. I’m okay. He tried it a few times in his head. “I’m okay.” The out loud version wasn’t as convincing.

“Yeah, no chance.” Bucky sounded worried. “What has happened?”

“Has the suit closed itself over the wound?” And that was Steve. “I can’t see anything.”

Tony truthfully said, “There is no wound.” It didn’t do any good worrying either with not answering. If his mind would only come up with something else than I’m getting rear ended by my own suit and I deserve it.

Steve sounded even more worried. “Is the suit malfunctioning? We should have tested it more in training.”

Then this would have probably happened in training. Steve and Bucky’s combos were even more artistic there. The thought of their last training session made the suit pull the plugs apart and Tony couldn’t hold back a wail and couldn’t keep the suit from transporting it outside either.

Fuck this! He didn’t want to worry them more but if they found out he probably deserved everything that was coming for him. They would never talk to him again. They would be in their full right to get a restraining order. Or make sure you don’t come near them anymore with other methods.

Steve’s voice had a hard undertone, “Tony, open up the faceplate now and tell us what is going on.”

Tony wanted to say that he couldn’t control the armor anymore because he couldn’t when it retracted from his face. Of course it did, baring his lowest moment to them. But the suit is you. You either want to get caught or don't have the backbone to tell Steve ‘no’.

He turned his head to look at Bucky, who was at his eye level. Tony could feel the mild wind cold on his face and he realized he had been crying inside the armor. Bucky’s face was riddled with worry lines. Steve was standing behind him his face rigid. Tony didn’t see any way out of it anymore without explaining what was going on. He didn’t want to imagine how they would look at him then. Another pang of guilt in his stomach hit at the same time as the plugs moved again and pressed against his prostate while stretching him even more. Now, he could feel the tears rolling down his face and he would have cried out if he’d had any breath left. Why? Why wouldn’t it stop? Why can’t you stop?

He could accept the pain but it shouldn’t feel good at the same time. You deserve the pain.

“Tony, it is the armor, isn’t it? How do we disable it?” Steve’s voice left no place for an argument. Not that Tony would have had any strength left to do that.

“Bruce. Jamming frequency...” Another thrust and he couldn’t continue. Unable to keep himself up, he fell onto his side. Bucky’s hands darted forward cradling his face while Steve was dropping to his knees beside him. A last twist of the plugs and he came while he could feel something tear at the same time and then he gratefully passed out.