Steve paces around their room, running his hands through his hair and back over his neck. He feels like he’s burning, the catch in his veins heady and desirable. He had been in the gym. Just. Getting it all out. But it hadn’t helped, hadn’t done anything but make him hotter, make him want more. He wonders if the bruises have faded from Tony’s hips. That thought stalls him momentarily because he shouldn’t find the idea of bruising Tony sexy. He shouldn’t find it something he wants, desperately. He shouldn’t think it marks Tony as his.
Biting his lip, he takes another round of the room, tugging at his shirt and catching at his dog tags. If Tony wasn’t so busy right now, trapped down in his workshop because R&D had screwed up some important energy saving machine, he would be up here with Steve. Three days shouldn’t make him this desperate, this ridiculously needy, but he is, he actually is. He wants nothing more than to catch Tony by the wrists, pin him down and fuck him till they’re both sore and still eager for it. He wants to fuck Tony’s mouth, wants to stuff him with his fingers and his cock and dammit. This isn’t helping. He makes another round of the room.
He should be able to ask for these things. It’s something he’s still coming to terms with, something Tony has had to explain to him on multiple occasions. He can ask Tony for sex. He can. He fidgets, thinks about how he would even begin to phrase that sentence, and gets lost in the idea of Tony kneeling in front of him. He shakes his head and, just as he’s about to begin his nth round of the room, he hears familiar steps on the stairs.
Stilling, he waits, and it’s definitely Tony. He moves toward the door, keeping his steps light. There’s that familiar heat under his skin, prickling into goosebumps, and it feels like the beginning of a battle. He shifts his stance, eyes narrowing as Tony stops momentarily in the hallway. If he doesn’t continue – Tony starts up again, shuffling steps that catch on the carpet, and Steve’s cock pushes against his pants. He wants and when Tony walks through the door, Steve can’t stop himself.
He has Tony against the wall before Tony can even say hello. He has his mouth against Tony’s skin, breathing in that heady scent of gunmetal, oil, and coffee. Tony actually squeaks, hands coming up to grab at Steve’s shoulders, and Steve kisses his ear, turns the kiss sharp with a flick of teeth, and pushes closer to Tony.
“Steve?” Tony manages, and Steve shifts course, tangles his fingers in Tony’s hair and yanks his head back so Tony is forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are already blown wide and there’s a smear of grease over his cheek. Steve tightens his fingers and kisses him.
It’s not slow. It’s not kind. Steve dominates the kiss, makes Tony take him and Tony groans against his lips, not even bothering to fight back. His fingers push up into Steve’s hair and Steve curls around Tony, shoving his legs open with a simple slide of his knee. His tongue traces over the sharp points of Tony’s teeth, maps out the roof of his mouth and slides up against Tony’s. He curls an arm around Tony’s hips, fingers sliding under the sweats he’s wearing. Tony rocks up against him, sucking on Steve’s tongue. He keeps Tony in place with his hand in Tony’s hair, with his body shoved up against his, and Tony makes a soft, desperate noise.
Pulling back is torture, and Tony’s gasps are too sweet not to try and capture. Tony fights him this time, bites at his lips and flicks his tongue. Steve lets him, hand busy palming Tony’s ass. Tony tugs on him to gather his attention again, but Steve has a focus. He pulls Tony forward so he can have better access to him, fingers slipping down the crease of his ass. Tony hiccups against him when Steve catches against the rim of his hole. He tightens his hold in Steve’s hair when Steve rubs two fingers hard over him. Tony bucks, shakes, pulling back from the kiss with a heady groan. Steve ducks his head to nip at his chin, kisses bruises down the side of his neck. Grease catches on his tongue, but the intoxicating taste of Tony is still bright underneath. He forces Tony’s head back, arches his neck so he can bite at his pulse, catch at the juncture of his neck and chin. Tony whispers his name like he’s lost, gasping with every swipe of Steve’s tongue.
Somehow, Tony finds his voice. “Missed me?”
“I was going to ask,” Steve says. He shoves up Tony’s shirt, his fingers catching against the arc reactor. Tony groans, pulling him back in as Steve scratches against the scars, around the metal casing, and against Tony’s nipples. Their lips crash together on the tail end of Tony’s moan.
Tony’s fingers go to his dog tags this time, winding them around his hand as his tongue fucks into Steve’s mouth. Steve nibbles on him before pulling back, pressing a light kiss against his nose. He hooks his fingers in the elastic of Tony’s sweats. Tony grabs his wrist before he can shove them down. “Lube, pocket, kind of need that.”
Laughing, Steve digs into one of the side pockets, rubbing Tony through the fabric as he searches. Tony groans, dropping his head against Steve’s shoulder. Steve finds the lube but continues to stroke him, and Tony jerks against him, soft moans smothered into Steve’s shirt. He keeps up the pressure until the sound of Tony is too much. He grabs Tony’s wrist, forces the lube into his hand before he shoves down the sweats, fingers curling tight around Tony’s hard cock.
Tony shouts, hand slapping back against the wall as Steve jerks him, fast and hard. Steve grabs for his thigh, hiking it up as the sweats fall to the floor. Tony scrambles against him, against the wall, his lip caught between his teeth. He’s rocking up against Steve, thighs shaking with the effort, and Steve leans up close, mouth against his ear.
“Open yourself up for me.”
With a sharp whine, Tony scrambles to get the lid off the lube. Steve strokes him slowly, rubbing heavy under the head of his cock after each pass. Tony’s thigh flexes in his hand and he tightens his hold, the image of his fingerprints bruising into the soft flesh overriding all sense. Tony mutters something, numbers and garbled phrases, and Steve lifts his leg higher. There are fingers light on his wrist, shaking and slick with lube, and Steve presses sucking kisses against the side of Tony’s neck.
“Steve, Steve, please,” Tony gasps, and Steve shifts his hand, guides Tony’s fingers to his hole. He rubs them over and around, getting the slick everywhere, and Tony’s head thunks against the wall. He teases Tony with both their fingers, until Tony’s bucking against him, rubbing himself off against his forearm. Steve works Tony’s fingers into himself and the image is beautiful.
“Get yourself nice and wet,” Steve whispers, and Tony’s hand works frantically between his legs. “This is all the lube you’re getting, Tony, do you hear me? When you tell me you’re ready, I’m taking you at your word.”
“Fuck,” Tony gasps, and works another in. Steve slides wet fingers over Tony’s balls, before leaning back and fighting with his own pants. His cock slips free and he groans as he runs a hand over himself, and he has to tighten his fingers around the base. Tony has three fingers deep inside himself, gasping out nonsense as he stretches himself open. Steve wants to knock his hand away and bury himself in Tony’s heat, but he waits. He can wait.
With a disappointed sigh, Tony removes his fingers and tilts his hips. Steve catches his eye, and Tony says, “Now, now, need you now.”
Steve pushes him wider, catches the head of his cock against Tony’s wet hole, and presses in. Tony groans, hands reaching for his cock, and Steve grabs them up before he can reach. Tony lets him, eyes dark as Steve shoves in and stays. Tony’s so warm, hot and deliciously sensitive to every twitch of Steve’s cock. Tony clenches down around him, muscles rippling and catching Steve unaware, and he jerks back, shoves in, and Tony practically wails.
“Hands on my shoulders,” Steve gasps. Tony jumps to obey, fingers tightening in the fabric of Steve’s shirt as Steve starts moving. He’s gentle at first, getting Tony used to the new stretch, and Tony arches into him. He quickens his pace, hand catching Tony’s cock again. Tony bites his lip, a soft mantra of Steve’s name falling from his lips, and when Steve strokes him in time with his thrusts, Tony squeezes his eyes shut.
His thrusts grow harder the more Tony whines, the more noises that spill past his lips. Steve presses his lips against Tony’s ear and says, “I’m going to gag you one day, with that one toy you have in your drawer. I’m going to have you silent and begging for it, unable to do anything but shove back against me. And you’ll be so sore afterwards, but it will be that kind of ache that you love, that I know you love, that I know you always ask for. And maybe I’ll plug you up, keep you stretched wide and ready for me whenever I want it.”
Tony bares his neck, gasping out, “Would you keep me up here, Steve? Would you tie me to the fucking bed? Because that’s what I’m working on down there, cuffs that only release when you tell them to, when you say the word, and I would be at your mercy; you want that don’t you, you want me here all the time, open and ready for you.”
Steve groans, burying his face in Tony’s neck as he angles his thrusts to catch against Tony’s prostate. Tony’s words break off in the middle, replaced by panting breaths and needy groans. Steve thrusts in hard, catches against Tony’s prostate right as he rubs hard with his thumb. Tony does wail this time, back bowing as he comes, coating his belly and his shirt. Steve fucks him through it, gasps as Tony’s body tightens around him, catches the whimpers of sensitivity that jump from Tony’s lips. He fucks in harder, relishing the easy glide of Tony’s body and the twitch of Tony’s cock in his hand. Tony fists his shirt, his kisses lust-stupid and sloppy, body still jerking from every thrust.
When Tony is actively participating again, the unconscious shiver dissipating and making way for Tony’s jerky movements, Steve pushes harder. He lets his fingers start moving again, stroking and pulling until Tony begins to harden in his grip. Tony shoves down on his shoulders, bucking as best he can while standing on tiptoe. He’s not making sense with his words, garbled versions of Steve’s names intermittent with ‘harder’ and ‘more’ and ‘please, please, please’. Steve holds onto him and can feel that familiar shiver rolling down his spine.
Steve shoves his leg up higher, releasing his cock so he can wrap an arm around Tony’s waist. Tony doesn’t seem to notice, just let’s Steve run the show. He knows he’s bruising Tony, knows he’s pushing his limits with how wide he has him spread, up on his toes and barely coherent. The noises coming from Tony’s lips, spilling out into the space between them pulls Steve closer to that edge, until he’s practically shoving Tony up the wall as he chases his climax. If he wasn’t so far gone, he would find it almost brutal how hard he’s thrusting in, how he rotates his hips and his fingers bite into the soft underside of Tony’s thigh. Tony gasps, head thrown back as Steve comes. His teeth find Tony’s skin, and Tony’s cock jerks between them.
Breathing out, Steve leans heavily against Tony, still holding him spread out against the wall. He likes the way it looks, the way Tony can’t move save for running his fingers through Steve’s hair. He likes that Tony is trembling, little shifts of movement that grind his cock against Steve’s stomach. He likes that Tony is completely at his mercy.
Nuzzling against his neck, Steve worries the skin between his teeth before kissing up his throat. He nips at Tony’s chin and says, “Food?”
Tony laughs, high and needy, clenching down on Steve. “No. No, no, no, don’t you dare. You can’t fuck me through one orgasm and leave me waiting for another. Fuck you, Rogers. Finish what you started.”
Steve kisses him, grabs him under his other thigh and lifts him up. Tony yelps, body tightening in surprise, and Steve groans. “If we go again, you’re not leaving that bed.”
“If we go again, I don’t plan to.”