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Steve likes taking night classes. He likes how quiet the buildings are, how some classrooms are empty and dark as he passes by and how only some of the hallways are lit. He likes the relaxed atmosphere, the mishmash of people who for whatever reason are either unable to make it to day classes or just prefer the night. There’s a strange sense of camaraderie when you hang out with the same people week after week on campus after dark. It’s relaxing, he thinks, in comparison to the hustle and bustle of everything outside of those walls.

He walks slowly down the half-lit hallway, his large portfolio case slung over his shoulder, the small toolbox-like case carrying all his different charcoals and pencils in his hand. He inhales deeply, enjoying the smells of the art building, as he walks into class early.

There’s already a handful of people in the room, choosing and setting up their easels. Steve follows suit and grabs one, picking a spot in the room that he thinks will offer the most interesting lighting. They’re doing life drawings tonight and Steve can’t wait to get his fingers on his charcoal. He grabs his drawing pad and stows his portfolio in his designated nook and sets up shop, placing everything just how he likes it and making small talk with the short girl with rainbow streaked hair next to him. Her name is Emily and she’s become one of his favorite people in the class, always willing to give him an honest opinion of his work without trying to sugarcoat it.

It’s the normalcy of it all that he really appreciates. If anyone here realizes he’s Captain America, they keep it to themselves, treating him just like they would anyone else. Even if that involves a lot of subtle flirting by most of the women and a few of the guys. He can deal with that, though, he just prefers not to deal with the awestruck stares and awkward hero worship that sometimes comes along with being who he is.

Their professor breezes out of the attached office and into the cavernous space, swinging by the open classroom door to shut it.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. You’re all adults here, don’t make me lecture you about your behavior. Remember… any inappropriate laughter will get you kicked out of the room. I see any cellphones out while the model is posing, you will be dropped from the class with an automatic fail. Be kind, be respectful, and do your best.”

Steve’s too busy arranging his things on the stool next to him to notice the model walk in but he hears a quiet snicker from Emily and he lifts an eyebrow and looks at her. She notices his glance and she shrugs.

“Sorry, the guy just looks like some sort of weird cross between a Tony Stark cosplayer and Zorro,” she whispers. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen someone in one of these classes wear some kind of mask because they’re shy, but it’s definitely the first time I’ve seen a cape. He’s got a great body, though, he’s definitely going to be a lot of fun to draw.”

Steve’s fingers clench tightly around the stick of charcoal in his hand, almost breaking it as his gaze snaps up to where the model is arranging themselves on the platform in the middle of the room. He immediately sees what Emily means. The model is wearing a large black domino mask, and the black cape that’s tied around his neck is twisted to drape artfully from one shoulder across his chest and to the opposite hip, the fabric gathering around his thigh where it rests on the cushions. Definitely a little Zorro-esque, but it’s the mouth that really catches Steve’s eye. Or rather, the facial hair surrounding it. There’s no mistaking that facial hair. Not when you’ve been up close and personal with it, like Steve has.

The lips Steve’s staring at twitch into a smirk and Steve tears his eyes away to meet Tony’s, who’s staring straight at Steve with that godforsaken grin. Tony shifts his hips slightly, enough to spread his legs apart just a fraction more, the cape leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. And Steve knows that if it weren’t for the arc reactor, Tony would be up there displaying himself like a peacock, proud and flashy. As it stands, he shifts around slightly until he’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out above him, head resting on his shoulder, his other arm relaxed and curled lightly around his waist. He’s still staring at Steve, like he’s daring him to actually say something.

Two can play at this game, though, and Steve lets his eyes drag slowly down the contours of Tony’s body, head to toe and back up again. He licks his lips just before he meets Tony’s gaze again and is pleased at the fire he sees burning there. Steve smiles to himself but doesn’t let his thoughts go any farther. It’s a three hour long class and he’s not about to start it off by trying to awkwardly hide an erection.

Their professor gives a few last instructions before turning on the old radio in the corner and letting them work. Almost immediately Steve gets absorbed in his drawing.

Tony has a beautiful body. Steve’s never really been given a chance to just look before and now it’s all he can do. He’s got Tony naked and stretched out in front of him and he’s not allowed to touch, so instead he just appreciates. Steve knows, logically, that Tony does a lot of manual labor in the lab, but he’s never been given the opportunity to see it like this before. Tony is always in motion, always flitting from one thing to the next, and even though he is laying perfectly still, Steve can see all the potential energy, the pure genius, just waiting to be released in the lines of his muscles and the slight twitching of his nimble fingers.

But now, Steve can look. So look he does. His eyes travel over every inch of Tony’s body. His full pouty lips, his collarbones that ever so slightly  jut out from his wide, strong shoulders, the muscles in his bicep… This time Steve licks his lips without thinking about it. He keeps going, taking in the defined lines of Tony’s abdomen, the way his belly button pokes out just that tiny bit, down to his firm thighs, and even Tony’s knees are somehow attractive. For a moment he wishes he was on the other side of the room so he could get a nice long look at Tony’s other assets, but he knows there will be time for that later, when they’re alone. Steve awkwardly shifts in his chair, hoping no one notices his sudden inability to sit still.

All at once he feels like his chest is too full and yet he’s oddly out of breath because of the man in front of him. Tony is so devastatingly, breathtakingly beautiful that Steve finds himself momentarily out of sorts. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he resumes his drawing.

It’s not just the surface beauty, either. Tony is movie-star handsome but beneath that he’s just as beautiful, even if he sometimes does his damndest to try to hide it. Steve can’t help the warm feeling in his chest at the thought that this man, this wonderful, amazing man, chose him out of the multitudes he could have. He catches Tony’s gaze again, Tony gives him a curious look but Steve simply smiles in return and keeps drawing.

The rest of the class passes mostly uneventfully. Steve and Tony exchange glances occasionally but mostly Steve focuses on the pad in front of him, carefully shading and smudging lines with his fingers, treating the work delicately, lovingly. About midway through the professor calls for a ten minute break and Emily asks if he wants to come with her to the soda machine. Steve’s tempted to stay behind and talk to Tony but he knows that Tony’s disguise is a flimsy one and on the off chance that any of them know Steve is Captain America, he thinks it’s best if he stays away until they’re alone.

The closer it gets to the end of the class, though, the more anxious Steve becomes. By the time people start packing up their things, Steve’s nerves are frayed and he feels pulled taut. He can feel the weight of Tony’s eyes on him as everyone else mingles about, saying their goodbyes and putting away their things while Steve keeps working on his piece. Tony’s already sitting up, pulling on the robe and chatting with the professor.

By the time Tony follows her into the office, the classroom is mostly empty. Emily and Steve are the only two left and he can feel her presence as she sidles up next to him.

“Wow,” she says.


“That’s really… incredible.”

Steve smiles. “Thank you.”

“Man, you know I’m not a pro or anything but I thought this was just supposed to be an exercise. Your’s actually looks like art. Legit art, I mean.”

Steve chuckles and feels his face heat a little bit. “Thank you. Again. I guess I was just… inspired,” he finished lamely.

Emily hums in response. Her eyes flicker over Steve’s shoulder and then she grins brightly at him. “Right. I’ll see you next week, yeah? Have a good one!” She says as she rushes out of the room. Steve watches as she goes, curious at her sudden departure.

“She’s right you know.”

The voice momentarily startles Steve but he composes himself and turns to face Tony, smiling.

“About what?”

Tony is maskless but still wearing the robe, and only the robe. He takes a couple of steps towards Steve. “It sounds conceited coming from me considering the drawing is of, well, me… but it does look like ‘legit’ art.”

Steve smiles even brighter. “Yeah?”


Steve closes the distance between them and runs a finger along Tony’s chest where the fabric has gaped open.

“Well, the subject matter certainly helps,” Steve says, lowering his eyes as he pulls at the tie of the robe, letting it flutter open.

“Why, Captain Rogers! In a classroom? What if someone walks in?”

Steve lifts an eyebrow and tears his gaze away from Tony’s body. “You’re telling me you weren’t planning this from the beginning?”

“Mmm, fair point. All the doors are locked and the professor was given a very good incentive to leave a few minutes ago.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“No, probably not. But what it does mean is that we won’t be bothered.”

Steve watches Tony for a moment, noticing Tony’s cock starting to harden between them and feeling his own stirring.

“I guess we’ll have to make the most of that then, won’t we?”

Tony wastes no time, shedding his robe to the floor and pushing at Steve until he finds himself on the platform stage in the middle of the room. Tony keeps pushing at him until he’s sitting on the cushions. Quick work is made of Steve’s zipper and before he realizes it, Tony’s got his mouth around Steve’s cock. He sucks, licks, and strokes Steve to full hardness and Steve can’t help but to moan into the empty room. After a few minutes, Steve pulls Tony off of him and into a bruising kiss.

He pulls Tony on top of him, rutting against him as Steve explores Tony’s mouth. His hands travel over Tony’s body gripping and pulling, trying to get closer and it’s not long before Tony groans and pulls away.

“The robe pocket,” Tony says, his voice husky with lust.

Steve is across the room and back in record time. He hands the items to Tony before he strips off his t-shirt and discards his pants. Once he’s rid of the offending items, he pulls Tony up into another kiss and circles Tony’s cock with his hand, pumping slowly.

“God, Steve,” Tony whispers.

“I know you came here tonight with a purpose, Tony. Now don’t make me beg.”

“Mmm, I’d bet you’d be pretty when you beg, though.”

“You do this now, maybe I’ll let you find out later.”

Tony chuckles and shoves at Steve, pushing him down onto his back on the cushions before kneeling between Steve’s splayed legs. He doesn’t waste time in slicking up his fingers and working one into Steve slowly. And it takes no time at all before Steve is whining with the need for another, and then another, everything happening so fast and yet not fast enough.

Steve hears the ripping of the condom wrapper, hears the slick noise of Tony pouring more lubricant onto himself, and then feels the blunt tip of Tony’s cock pressing into him. His eyes are closed, trying to memorize the way Tony’s skin feels against his, the way Tony’s sounds, those sharp little exhales when Steve clenches down on him.

When Tony puts a hand under Steve’s knee and presses forward, Steve sees stars. And what started off and slow and steady quickly turns into Tony pounding into Steve relentlessly.

“Touch yourself, Steve. Come for me,” Tony says and Steve’s hand automatically wraps around his own cock, pumping in time with Tony’s thrusts.

It’s all over when Tony leans down and captures Steve’s lips with his, the rough scratch of Tony’s facial hair and the feeling of Tony’s tongue against his own pushing him over the edge. He comes hard, back bowing with pleasure, and is just barely aware of the way Tony turns his head and buries his face into Steve’s neck, groaning through his own orgasm.

When they’ve both calmed down, their breathing evening out and sweat cooling on their bodies, Tony pulls back and looks at Steve, a warm smile on his face. Steve grins back.


As they relax in their pleasurable haze, it takes Steve a moment to realize what the black marks on Tony’s skin are. When he laughs to himself, Tony makes a questioning noise.

“You’ve got charcoal all over you. I didn’t get a chance to wipe it off my hands after class.”

Tony extends his arm and rotates it a little bit, looking at the streaks of  black. He hums. “I guess that makes me a work of art, doesn’t it? Will you sign me? I know the perfect place for your signature.”

Steve laughs again and turns so he’s leaning on his elbow, hovering over Tony and looking at him seriously. “You’re already a work of art,” he says and kisses the tip of Tony’s nose before pulling away and grinning.

Tony rolls his eyes but Steve can see a slight flush to his skin that definitely wasn’t there before.

“You are such a cheeseball, Rogers,” he says. He lifts a hand and brushes a strand off of Steve’s forehead. “I think that’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“One of?” Steve asks.

“Well I’m certainly a fan of your big--”

“Alright, Tony.”

“--heart. You have a big heart. What? What did you think I was going to say?”

“Tony, shut up.” Steve warns before laying back down next to him.

A beat of silence.

“Your huge dick is pretty nice, too.”