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Lazy light of morning

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It’s dark the first time Steve stirs, but that doesn’t mean much. JARVIS keeps the windows darkened until they’re both awake most mornings. The mattress shifts under him and he reaches out to catch Tony’s arm as the other man sits up.

“What time izzit?” he mumbles. It’s scary, really, how quickly he got used to asking JARVIS for the time rather than checking the clock.

“It’s nine minutes past six,” JARVIS says.

“Too early,” Steve murmurs. He tugs on Tony’s arm. “Stay. Sleep more.”

Tony bends down and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Something I have to check on in the workshop. I’ll be back before you wake up again.”

“Sundays are sleep-in days.” Steve wants nothing more than to drag Tony back into bed and keep him there, but he lets go and settles back against the pillows. He tries to keep his eyes open long enough to watch his naked boyfriend wander around the room in search of yesterday’s clothes, but his eyelids are heavy and sleep claims him again.


The next time Steve wakes up there’s filtered sunlight brightening the room and Tony’s sliding back into bed with him. He smells like ivory soap and the orange degreaser he uses down in the garage, and his hair is sticking up everywhere in damp hedgehog spikes.

“Morning, beautiful,” Tony says. He tucks his face against Steve’s neck and his skin is cool and a little clammy, like he’s just got out of the shower. Steve can smell engine oil over the soap, and as Tony nuzzles into him he can see the faint greenish stain of a missed grease smear high on the back of his shoulder.

“Morning,” he replies. He presses his lips into Tony’s damp hair and pecks warm kisses over his scalp. “Get your stuff finished?”

“Yeah, all done,” Tony says against his skin. The warm breath, the vibration, and the tickle of his goatee sends a very pleasant shiver down his spine. He must shudder, because he feels Tony smile against his neck and then something wet, warm and decidedly lovely and tickly. Tony licks a line up his neck, angling for his ear.

“Hmm, good morning.” Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders, trapping him. “Is this my wake up call?”

“Mmm hmm,” Tony hums against his ear, sending more shivers down his spine. His hand works it’s way down Steve’s chest, calloused palm almost tickling. “Time to rise and shine. Oh—” his hand, which had been working its way ever lower, wraps around Steve’s morning erection. “Looks like you’re already quite awake.”

Steve chuckles and arches up into Tony’s loose grip. “At least some part of me is.”

“Well if the rest of you is asleep, I’m just going to talk to the awake part,” Tony says. He twists his hand loosely around Steve’s dick, his thumb teasing at the head where it’s still half hidden by the foreskin.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Steve starts to say, but Tony does something sinful with his thumb again and Steve loses track of his words. He closes his eyes against the bright room as Tony starts licking and kissing across his chest, teeth scraping cruelly over his nipple in a way that makes Steve’s flesh pebble with goose bumps.

“Ah,” he gasps. Tony continues down his chest, the soft bristles of his goatee scratching over the delicate skin as he alternately licks, kisses and nibbles. He knows all of Steve’s sensitive places—the channel between his pectoral muscles, the bottom of his ribs, the spot just above his navel—and laves each with attention until Steve is panting and squirming. Steve feels the prickle of his chin against the thin skin below his navel, and then gasps again, eyes flying open, as Tony’s mouth finds his dick.

It’s warm, wet, and oh so good. Tony pins his hips with a forearm across his stomach and Steve writhes against it. He cranes his neck and looks down to see Tony peering at him through thick lashes. Tony doesn’t break eye contact, pulling back in a delicious wet slide until only the head of Steve’s cock is caught between his lips. Tony winks at him and does something quick and clever with his tongue that makes fireworks explode across Steve’s vision.

“Tony I, uh—” Steve manages to say before Tony presses down, swallowing Steve’s dick until Steve can feel the tightness of his throat. His breath catches in a gasp and he chokes on the rest of the words when he feels Tony’s free hand come up to cup his balls. Tony palms them ever so gently, so light it nearly tickles, then slides his hand past to push at Steve’s thigh.

Steve takes the hint and drags his legs further apart, plants his feet on the bed and bends his knees. Tony moves with him, pulling free of his cock with a wet sucking sound, and rearranges himself so that he’s kneeling between Steve’s feet. He runs his hands up Steve’s thighs and grins at him.

“You more awake now?” he asks.

“Mmm, getting there,” Steve says. “You can always keep going though.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Tony says.

He licks along the shaft of Steve’s dick, broad swipes of his tongue that feel nothing short of amazing. Steve curls his fingers in the sheets and tries to keep still as Tony takes him in his mouth again. He feels Tony’s fingers, suddenly slick, tracing the soft skin between his balls and his asshole. Steve gives up on keeping still and just tries not to thrust up into Tony’s mouth, squirming as Tony brushes his fingers across Steve’s hole. He squirms, trying to slide down the bed towards Tony’s teasing fingers. Tony pulls his mouth away and Steve finds himself straining the other way, squirming his hips and digging his heels into the mattress. Tony chuckles and says something Steve doesn’t quite hear, and then he’s back, his mouth unbearably warm around Steve’s cock and one cool, slick finger pressing gently into his ass.

Steve moans, ragged and breathless, as Tony’s finger brushes over his prostate. The wave of pleasure that rolls through him wakes him up better than Tony’s mouth alone, but does nothing for the lazy, languid way he feels. He lets his eyes flutter closed again as Tony brushes against that sensitive spot once again, and only a moment later Steve’s cock hits the back of Tony’s throat again. Tony makes a gagging sound.

Steve forces his eyes open again and he unwinds his fingers from where they’re clenched in the sheets. He runs his fingers through Tony’s hair and pulls him up. “Slower.”

“Right.” Tony breathes across the head of Steve’s cock. “Slower.”

He is slower, taking his time to lap at Steve’s shaft, to swirl his tongue around the head before he takes it back into his mouth. Steve leaves his fingers tangled in Tony’s hair, not guiding him or pulling him down but just resting, occasionally stroking with the same rhythm that Tony’s bobbing up and down on his cock. Tony’s fingers are gentle and insistent, one slowly pumping and bushing against Steve’s prostate until he’s lax and pliant, and Tony can easily slip a second and then a third finger inside him. The stretch is magnificent, gentle and slow, and Tony’s calloused fingers feel unbelievable inside him. Heat coils in his groin, tension building and drawing his balls up. Steve tries to hold off as long as he can, focussing on anything else—the soft sheets beneath him, the way Tony’s hair feels under his fingers—but it’s no good. His climax is drawn out of him by Tony’s clever fingers dancing over his prostate, a slow roll through his stomach and loins that he feels down to the very tips of his toes.

Tony eases his fingers out of Steve and releases his softening cock with a wet pop, and leaves the bed. Steve stretches his legs back out and rolls onto his side, and waits. He feels utterly boneless, wide awake but completely unwilling to move, like Tony stole all his energy with the blow job. It doesn’t take long for Tony to come back out of the bathroom. He’s a sight, strong and lean and utterly confident with his own body as he struts back towards the bed, his dick fully erect, curving towards his belly. He crawls onto the bed from the foot end and curls into Steve’s arms.

Steve kisses him, tastes the mouthwash on his lips, and draws him close until he can feel the hard, hot line of Tony’s cock pressing into his hip. Tony’s lips are soft under his, cool, and his tongue teases in little flicks. His hand comes up to cup Steve’s face, thumb stroking a line across Steve’s cheekbone. Steve presses into it and deepens the kiss. He sucks Tony’s tongue into his mouth and curls his own around it, and when Tony pulls away he follows, nipping at Tony’s bottom lip.

They kiss for a while, lazy presses of lips and slide of skin on skin. Steve slowly feels himself growing hard again, his cock pressing against Tony’s belly. Tony rocks his hips against Steve, sliding until their cocks are bumping together and sending sparks shooting up Steve’s spine.

“I want you.” Steve breathes the words into Tony’s skin, followed with kissed and the press of fingertips.

“How do you want me?” Tony strokes his hand down Steve’s side and strokes over the thick line of muscle above his hip.

“I want you in me,” Steve says. “I want you to make love to me.”

Tony laughs. “I think I can handle that.”

Steve rolls onto his back, his grip on Tony’s hips dragging him along too. Tony braces his hands on the pillow either side of Steve’s head and kisses him thoroughly, all tongue and the scratch of whiskers and the briefest nibble of teeth. When he pulls back, they’re both breathless. Tony reaches over to the bedside table, the stretch showing off the muscles of his arm and shoulders, and grabs the lube. Steve strokes down Tony’s chest, flicks a thumb across one nipple, and Tony retaliates with a gentle finger, cool with lube, tracing a slick line from his balls to his ass and pressing in.

He’s always so careful to open Steve up, make sure he’s relaxed enough and slick enough. And he’s beautiful like this, hair tousled and lips red from kissing, a faint crease between his eyebrows like he’s concentrating on something delicate. Steve feels safe, cherished, when Tony’s like this. Loved.

Tony pulls his fingers free and Steve feels the slick head of his cock pressing against his ass, feels the way his body resists, just for a moment, before Tony slides slowly in. He’s thick and hot and fills Steve perfectly. Steve tilts his hips up, hooks one leg around Tony’s waist and pulls him close. He can’t keep his hands still, roaming up Tony’s sides and his back, mapping out the shape of his ribs and the muscle of his back. Tony leans in, kisses him softly, and begins thrusting with a slow, even rhythm.

It feels magnificent, the steady slide and drag as Steve clenches down, tries to keep him in, the way Tony’s cock presses gently over Steve’s prostate with every thrust. Even with the blow job earlier taking the edge off, Steve knows he’s not going to last long.

“Talk to me,” he says.

Tony huffs out a bit of a surprised breath and falters in his rhythm.

“Talk to me,” Steve repeats. “I want to hear your voice.”

Tony smiles, only just short of a smirk. “You want to hear what? How perfect you are? How good this feels?”

He pauses for a moment, and slides his arm under Steve’s leg, pressing it up and back so Steve’s hips come right up off the bed. When he starts thrusting again, harder but no faster, his cock’s no longer just brushing Steve’s prostate. It’s pressing insistently, a flood of sensation that takes Steve’s breath away and he realises that he’s missed the first of what Tony said.

“—the way you smile at me in the morning. I love your stupid perfect crooked nose, and the tiny freckles you get on it whenever you get too much sun, even if they fade after a few days. I love that you know exactly how I like my coffee, not that it’s hard to remember or anything but I love that you bothered to remember. I love the way you glare at the espresso machine like it’s personally offended you whenever I switch it on, and you go and start the percolator instead.”

Tony stops talking for a moment, stops moving and just breathes the way he does when he’s trying to last longer. Steve grins up at him.

“I love the way your hair sticks up everywhere in the morning,” he says to Tony. “I love that look you get on your face when you’ve thought of something insane to try in your workshop. I love, unh—”

He cuts off with a moan as Tony starts thrusting again, faster and shallower but just as wonderful as before. Steve can feel his climax building, can feel the difference from earlier, how having his cock ignored changes everything. It’s deep within him, almost an ache below his gut. He presses his fingers into Tony’s back, silently urging him on. He moans again as Tony snaps his hips forward hard, tries to drag him even closer. He won’t last long like this, neither of them will, but this feels so wonderful and so perfect that he wants it to last as long as he can make it. He wants to capture this feeling in his memory, be able to summon it whenever. Not just the physical feeling, thought the sex is amazing, but the emotional. The way he can practically feel Tony’s love like a physical, tangible thing.

Tony leans forward, pressing Steve to the bed so that he can whisper into his ear. “I love you.”

Steve lets go, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. Like fireworks in his brain and through his body and one sweet, blissful moment of nothingness.

He comes back to himself with Tony easing free and lowering Steve’s leg back to the bed. His muscles feel like jelly, his bones like lead, and he wants to just sink into the bed and stay there for another hour, preferably curled around Tony. He’s sticky, they both are, Steve’s come smeared on their bellies, but no force in the world could get him into a shower right now. He catches Tony’s wrist, tugs him close.

“Stay,” Steve says.

“You’re going to be uncomfortable when you wake up,” Tony tells him. He relents, though, lying down and letting Steve pull him close and cuddle him.

“I don’t care,” Steve tells him. “Sundays are sleep-in days.”