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Tony loves fucking Steve in hotel rooms. Making a mess of the sheets, ordering room service, watching bad porn. He pretends Steve's a pretty boy he picked up in the bar, or maybe his expensive kept man, and they have rough, dirty sex that Tony feels a little weird and guilty having with Captain America, or even just Steve, because Steve is perfect and noble and maybe even a bit innocent - though he'd glare at Tony for suggesting it - and sometimes he needs to get away from it for a little while and concentrate on his thick cock and his tight hot ass and the way his belly shivers when Tony drives his fingers in hard.

Right now, Tony's kneeling on the floor between Steve's thighs, working the fantasy that he picked Steve up on the street somewhere, and brought him here for some fun; that he can be rough and careless with him, and it won't matter. Because Steve's a shameless slut who loves to be used.

He does love it, he's gasping with every thrust and his cock's dripping, and when Tony hesitates, stills his fingers for a second, he reaches down to grab Tony's wrist and urge him on again.

Tony drops a hand to his own cock, which is still reluctant to co-operate; he's already fucked Steve once, and he wants to do it again, but the flesh is weak. He wishes he had Steve's refractory period.

Steve whines and hooks his knee up to his chest, spreading himself wider. Tony adds a fourth finger, pushing in almost up to the third knuckle, and Steve makes a choked noise and clamps down almost painfully, the pulsing tightness inside as clear a sign as his throaty moan.

Tony's fingers make a wet noise when he pulls them out; Steve's smeared from his navel almost to his knees with lube and sweat and come.

"Get up," Tony says a little hoarsely, and slaps Steve on the hip when he makes a disgruntled noise. "Shower, you. You look like the last scene of a porn movie."

Steve snickers at that, and wobbles to his feet; Tony grabs his hand and pulls himself upright. He's kissed as soon as he's in reach, a sweet soft brush of lips that's way too tender for how Tony feels right now.

Tony waits until Steve pulls back, a dopey smile on his face, and gives him a firm shove towards the bathroom.


The shower's nice and roomy, plenty of space for what Tony wants; he leans against the wall and watches Steve wash, watches him slide soapy hands over his belly and thighs. He comes when Steve beckons, and lets Steve stroke and pet him under the guise of getting him clean.

Steve closes a hand round Tony's half-hard cock, and squeezes gently; Tony puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes down.

"Get me hard," he mutters, and Steve drops to one knee and puts his hands on Tony's hips and his mouth over Tony's cock, sucks it in all the way. "Yeah, that's right, nice and slow," Tony breathes. Steve's eyes are shut, his blond lashes clumped together in the streams of water running over his face. Tony rocks his hips as he hardens, pushes into Steve's throat just a little, and Steve makes a small noise and takes one hand off Tony to grab his own dick.

Tony's hands slip through Steve's hair; he grabs an ear instead and tugs him upwards. Steve gives him a reproachful look, releases Tony's cock somewhat reluctantly, but he turns towards the back wall of the shower at Tony's urging. He lays his forearms against the wall and arches his back, presenting his ass - that is the greatest ass Tony has ever seen, and he's seen a lot. Tony's gaze travels up the curve of his spine, from the dimples at the base to the spread of his shoulders, and okay, the fabulous expanse of his back may be even better than his ass. Steve's perfect, and despite the need to get inside him, Tony has to take a little time just to touch. The spray of the shower hits at the nape of Steve's neck, pouring down the valley of his spine and into the crack of his ass; Tony follows the course with his fingers, watching the streams split and rejoin around his fingertips.

"Come on," Steve says, and wiggles invitingly. Tony digs his fingers in, and Steve pushes back to meet him, still slick and open. "Come on." He sounds almost desperate for it; Tony loves him when he's needy and wanting, so much so he works him with teasing fingers for a few moments longer, listening to the choked whines that escape Steve's throat as he tries to get more.

"Do you think you could take the whole thing?" Tony says idly, and Steve's still for a second; when he figures out what Tony means, he whimpers, bows his back and raises his ass in invitation. For a moment, Tony considers it, but the tile is slippery and even with Steve's body, there's too high a risk of injury. "Not here," and Steve sighs. "Maybe later."

Tony pulls out his fingers and replaces them with his cock, one smooth fast movement that has Steve rising onto his toes with a sharp cry.

"You like that?" Tony gets a grip on Steve's hips, pulls him down hard. "You love getting fucked, don't you?"

"Yeaaaaah," Steve's head hangs down between his arms, back heaving as he pants. "Oh, God."

Tony's hands slide over Steve's slick belly, avoiding his cock though Steve wriggles hopefully; he wraps his arms tight around Steve's body and grinds into him with as much force as he can as his feet slide on the tile.

"Slut," he mumbles against Steve's back before he can stop himself, but Steve chuckles breathlessly and arches back into Tony, struggling to spread himself a little more, get Tony's cock a little deeper.

"More," Steve whispers. "Harder. Fuck me, come on - "

"You do it," Tony bites his shoulder. "Fuck yourself on my dick."

Steve groans, and then starts to work his hips, no slow buildup, just sharp hard jerks. He makes the most fantastic noises, throaty ecstatic groans as he rolls his hips to rub Tony's cock against his prostate.

In only a minute or so, Tony can feel Steve's thighs shaking, see the quiver in his broad wet shoulders; Steve's so very easy with a cock in his ass. Tony can't help but push forward to match his rhythm, driving out a cry.

"Tony! Please," he pants. "Please, please - "

He doesn't need to beg, Tony's thrusting in hard and fast, resting his forehead against Steve's spine. He can feel the spray of the shower pounding against his skull to match the pounding of blood in his ears. Steve makes dry harsh noises like he needs to scream but can't gather breath, and it's only the shudder of his muscles that betrays his orgasm.

Tony's not done yet; he doesn't feel the need to stop or even slow down as Steve's muscles slacken and he wobbles on his feet. He can feel the familiar heat building in his gut, he just needs a little longer, and Steve just needs to stand there and take it.

He does; he rouses enough to clench his ass, tighten around Tony, and that's the perfect end, Tony groans and scratches his nails across Steve's chest and rams in deep and stays there, shaking.

He finally pulls out, and puts a hand on Steve's back for balance as he steps out onto the slick tile. They've flooded the bathroom; never mind. He grabs a towel, and looks back at Steve, who hasn't moved except to look back over his shoulder at Tony. Eyes are half shut, lower lip swollen where he's been biting it, he could have stepped right out of a porn shoot.

"Come on," Tony throws the towel, and Steve's hand snaps out to catch it. "You can't stay there all night."

"I guess." Steve straightens, turns, rubs vaguely at his belly with the towel. He's already almost fully erect. Tony's jealous.

"Not if you want to try taking my whole hand." Tony smiles, and Steve shivers.

Tony turns and walks out of the bathroom, back to the rumpled bed.

He loves fucking Steve in hotel rooms.