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A warm, wet tongue tracing an invisible line from the side of his knee up to his inner thigh woke him. He groaned aloud as the last fragments of his nightmare slipped the grasp of his mind, like grains of sand flowing through his fingers. The very, very nice tongue interrupted its very, very interesting journey and he frowned, making a vague sound of protest.

"Hey," Steve said, in a low voice, and Tony looked down to meet his eyes.

Steve was lying between his legs, underneath the sheets, one arm lifting the blankets over his head in a strange impression of a tent, while the other was firmly planted next to Tony's hip, supporting his weight. "You were having a nightmare," he said.

"Was I?" Tony murmured. He vaguely recalled shapes and images, but they were all jumbled up in his head, having disappeared at the moment of waking. "I don't remember."

Frankly, Tony couldn't think of a better way to be woken up after a bad dream.

Actually, Tony couldn't think of a better way to be woken up. Period.

"And what are you doing down there?" he asked, a grin playing on his lips. "Mind you, I'm not complaining. At all. Just call it idle curiosity."

Steve didn't reply, he just arched an eyebrow at him and smirked rather evilly.

And then he let go of the sheets.

They fell over him, hiding him from Tony's view and settled down as he was, between his legs... now that was the stuff dreams were made of.

Big, strong hands travelled up his thighs and Tony got the message. He bent his knees and spread his legs. A thumb traced small circles on the hollow of his left hip, getting close to the goal but shying away at the last moment.

"God, Steve," he groaned. "It's either too late or too early at night for this kind of teasing."

"Patience is a virtue," Steve replied, from under the sheets. His hand stroked down Tony’s thigh and settled on his knee. That was very, very far away from his cock.

"From now on, proverbs are banned from the bedroom," Tony decided.

"You have the strangest turn offs," Steve observed.

It was weird to try to associate the barely hinted movements Steve made under the sheets, to the touch of Steve’s hands and the warmth of his breath Tony could feel on his skin. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience, or as if he was in two places at the same time.

"You're still talking," Tony muttered, poking blindly at Steve with his toes. He hit a thigh. "Why don't you put your mouth to better u-fuuhhhhck."

Steve sucked at the tender flesh of his inner thigh for a couple more times, biting gently before kissing it, and then repeating the same process on the other leg.

"Fuck, Steve," he moaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

If Steve didn't stop teasing and get on with the program soon, Tony might just start begging until he complied. Start kicking him! Not begging. Begging was for teen-agers and people who got laid once every ten years. He wouldn't beg, even if Steve was a bastard, because Tony had more control than-

"Steve, please," he moaned loudly, when the man’s tongue traced a long and agonizingly slow path from his hip to his navel.

Finally, finally Steve seemed to take pity on him - and if people knew the real nature of Captain America, if they knew he was actually a merciless bastard who teased poor, turned-on boyfriends to death-- Okay, so maybe people other than Tony got to know this side of Steve, he might have to kill them. Just a little.

Steve's tongue left his navel and traveled south, his hands coming up to keep Tony's hips firmly down on the bed. Tony voiced his appreciation rather loudly, but his moans soon became frustrated groans when Steve bypassed his erection and went back to his inner thigh.

"Steeeve," he groaned, trying to wiggle free from his grip. It was a tight vise though, and he didn't even try to pretend he didn't like it, or the fact that he was going to have Steve's finger-shaped bruises there, come morning.

"I think you'll like this," Steve said, and then his hands parted Tony’s legs even further, and Tony frowned because he could feel Steve breathing on him, but it was the wrong angle for a blow-job and--

Steve gave a hesitant lick at his opening and Tony's brain quite possibly broke. He lost a considerable amount of IQ, in any case.

Another bolder stroke of that tongue and Tony arched on the bed, his hands gripping handfuls of sheets and he wouldn't be surprised if his fingers had dug holes in the mattress.

The long, keening moan that came out of his mouth surely couldn't be his voice.

"This is okay, then?" Steve asked.

Tony swore at him. At length. "If you stop now," he said, when he'd finally managed to acquire some control over his voice. "If you stop now, I'm afraid I will have to kill you."

Steve showed that he had a great sense of self-preservation, because he immediately went back to what he'd been doing (i.e. reducing to Tony to an incoherent babbling mass).

And then he started to alternate licking him, to sucking and biting at whatever portion of Tony's skin was close enough.

Steve's tongue entered him and he screamed and screamed and screamed.

Everything came to an abrupt end when Steve's hand closed around his erection, and the next thing he knew, Steve was lying next to him, kissing his closed eyelids.

Tony blinked at him. "What?" he asked, and then he noticed Steve's worried expression. He frowned. "What?"

"You were crying," Steve explained, his thumb stroking right under his left eye. His cheek was wet, Tony felt.

He'd cried. He'd actually cried. But nothing in his life had ever been this unexpected and intense.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked, after he was positive he could speak coherently once again.

"You can find anything on the internet."

Tony must have been about to swallow because he choked on his saliva. There was no other explanation. "W-What!?" he squawked.

Steve frowned at him, actually starting to look worried. "Hey, it's okay," he said, his hand gently stoking his cheek. "Peter told me to say that."

Tony gave another sound that resembled that of a very startled twelve-year-old girl, and sat up. He stared at Steve.
Peter. Peter had told Steve- Peter--

"Peter told you to look for rimming on the internet!?" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. People in China had quite possibly heard him.

Steve's eyes widened and he shot up into a sitting position as well. "No!" he exclaimed, rather alarmed. "No, that's just… He told me that I should reply with that to any sex-related question you might ask me!"

Tony stared at him.

"He said it would be funny!" Steve continued.

Tony was going to kill Peter. "Peter said..." he trailed off.
"I'm going to kill him."

"Come on," Steve said, grinning at him. "It was funny."

Tony frowned. "It wasn't."

"That’s just because you couldn't see your face," Steve replied, his grin getting wider.

After a moment Tony just sighed. "No, seriously," he said, then. "Where did you learn that?"

Steve shrugged. "I didn't learn it, Tony," he replied. "Erogenous zone, apply tongue. End of story."

Tony stared at him for a long time. "You're a genius." he said, totally serious. "And I love you very, very much."

"Me too, Tony."

"No, really," Tony nodded. "You are a genius."