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Alas, 516 (Wish Fulfillment)

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“Get rid of your clothes.”

Steve’s bare hand held firm on the back of his neck, pressing his cheek into the mattress. Tony kept his eyes tightly closed even though they’d darkened the room for safety. He gasped for breath, trembling as he complied with the order, pulling the armor-simulating-clothing back into his bones.

He was already sweating, his muscles wracked with small, betraying tremors. So when the air hit his bare skin he shivered outright. The hard grip on his neck flexed as the armor-shirt bled away from beneath it. He bit his lower lip to hold back a groan as Steve pressed closer, the mattress tilting under his weight as he knelt further on it. Tony felt the rub of Steve’s bare thigh against his side.

“I don’t like this plan,” Steve said harshly near his ear, his breath hot on Tony’s skin.

“It’s all I’ve got,” Tony answered, his voice raw, already breathless. “It’s the only way.”

Steve’s grip shook him slightly, at the nape, like a dog with a toy, making him moan and bite at his lower lip.

“I don’t like it,” Steve repeated, his mouth turning, his lips catching the hinge of Tony’s jaw, teeth just behind them scraping like a warning over skin above bone. “Put your hands over your head.”

One arm was twisted beneath him from when Steve had caught him. Thrown him down. He’d been waiting in the room for him. Waiting in the dark as they’d agreed. Silently. Through familiar codes of gesture and innuendo. Never knowing when the Mandarin was watching. Tony shifted awkwardly, working beneath Steve’s unrelenting grip until his arm was free. Then he stretched both hands out in front of himself as if diving though his hands were fisted instead of flat.

Steve bent toward the floor. Tony heard the jingle of something as he picked it up in his free hand and his gut jumped, his breath caught. Then smooth metal closed around each wrist, clicking firmly shut. Flat, smooth manacles. Familiar. So familiar. Connected permanently by three links of chain. He’d made them himself. So long ago. His hands relaxed. Went slack with relief. Steve’s hand fisted over the links, fingers brushing against Tony’s wrists. He pulled away once, hard, testing, and Tony grunted at the pressure drawing against his shoulders, his whole body, his erection trapped beneath. His hips wanted to move. To roll into it, but he didn’t let them. He knew better. Had learned long ago to wait for permission.

In Steve’s bed he wasn’t a playboy or a genius or Iron Man; he was just Steve’s. Steve’s to use as he saw fit.

This is what you’re looking at.” Steve’s voice was even rougher. Angrier.

“I know,” Tony whispered, breath coming quick and fast. Desperate. He licked his lips. Swallowed hard. Kept his eyes screwed tightly shut. “I know.”

“This is mine, Tony. You don’t do this for anyone but me.”

“Not willingly,” Tony answered, because he had to answer him, had to answer the thread of betrayed anger in Steve’s voice, and Steve snarled, bowed his head and pressed his forehead against Tony’s shoulder. “There’s no other way.”

“Damn it,” Steve said, voice finally breaking slightly. But not relenting. “I’m going to fuck the hell out of you. You’re going to be lucky to be able to walk. You’re going to remember this every hour you’re in his hands until you can get yourself out and back to me so I can do it again.”

“Yes, please, Steve,” Tony said, quivering harder now, his mouth open, panting for breath, his body aching and tight. He dared spread his legs then. Just a little. Just enough for Steve to feel the shift.

The hand left his neck then and stroked firmly down his back through the light sheen of sweat to the swell of his right butt cheek. He couldn’t stop the automatic tense as Steve’s hand lifted slightly and came down with a sharp crack that made Tony jump. Hiss. Suck in air against the sharp sting. His cock jumped and throbbed beneath him.

Steve’s tone was cold. Stern. It made his heart pound behind his RT. “You know better. Do I have to chain you to the bed?”

“Oh no,” Tony finally managed after swallowing a few times to try to get moisture into his mouth, his throat. “No please no.”

Another sharp crack against his ass then that make him flinch and hiss and fight not to thrust with his hips. “Damn you’re disobedient today.”

“Yes, sir,” he said then, voice hollow, trembling. Steve’s palm smoothed gently over his already heating ass cheek and Tony sighed in relief. Steve didn’t temper his strength. Much. “That’s better,” Steve murmured. “I want to fuck you not beat you tonight.”

Tony moaned. Rolled his face between his pinned arms, feeling the heat in his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. Steve leaned closer, until Tony could feel his body looming just above his. Not touching him save for the hand still curved over his butt, the fist still holding the chain between the manacles tight.

“I’m going to chain you to the bed now, Tony. Because I don’t want you to move unless I want you to. Answer me.”

Green,” Tony gave him the safeword instantly, already trembling with anticipation. Steve’s breath left him in a shuddering rush and Tony knew he’d been worried. It had been a long time and the circumstances here were unusual. But necessary. Frighteningly necessary. He wanted to look at him then. See Steve’s face. But he couldn’t open his eyes. Wouldn’t. Damned if he wasn’t giving the Mandarin anything more of this than the biotelemetry.

Steve’s lips brushed over his shoulder. Lingered. Hesitated for the first time. “Tony, I…”

He broke scene slightly too. “It’s okay. Green. Really. Steve. Please. I need this first. Please.”

Steve drew in a slow breath. The hand on his ass stroked. Followed the curve. Felt the heat of just two slaps. “This is mine,” he said sharply. “If anyone else touches it, you’re telling me.”

Tony swallowed hard. Trembled. Hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Yes,” he promised on a whisper. Steve’s hand tightened warningly. “Yes, sir.”

Steve stood up then, letting go, the mattress shifting, rising. Tony felt briefly bereft. But he could hear him, feel the rustling as he searched behind the headboard for the cables attached to the bedframe. He pulled them forward on their tension rollers and clipped them one at a time to the loops of the manacles. The quick, efficient brush of his hands made Tony flinch. Quiver. Pant harder. It was getting more difficult to hold still. To resist the urge to pump himself against the mattress. He barely felt Steve test the length of the cables. Set the locks so they wouldn’t shorten. Tony was waiting for him to move to the foot of the bed. Dig out the ankle straps.

“You look so good that way,” Steve said quietly, honest longing in his voice. Then he sucked in a slow breath. “I’m going to blindfold you,” he said in warning. Tony nodded in relief. It was getting harder to remember to keep his eyes closed. To deny himself a last look. Steve moved away for a moment with a deliberately heavy tread until Tony heard him open a drawer of his dresser, search through it, close it again. Then he returned to the bed, knelt close, and slid a thick, soft piece of cloth under Tony’s head, binding it carefully across his eyes, wrapping it all the way around once again, then tucking both loose ends tightly beneath itself rather than knotting it.

“Answer me,” Steve said quietly. A hand lingered on his cheek, a thumb rubbing just beneath the cloth.

“Green,” Tony said, licking dry lips, grateful to have the worry that he might open them removed. “Thank you.” He could see a glow of light from his RT along the bottom edge of the blindfold, but nothing else through two layers of dense silk.

The thumb skimmed down across his damp lower lip, tracing the fullness. “I’m turning on the light now. I want to see you when I fuck you,” Steve said and Tony gasped, letting Steve’s thumb slip into his mouth, tasting it with his tongue, testing Steve’s patience before sucking on it gently. “This is mine too,” Steve said harshly. “Your mouth is mine, Tony.” He pulled his thumb back, wet from Tony’s mouth, and stroked the backs of his fingers across his cheek, into his hair. Leaned down and pressed his mouth into the soft skin in front of his ear before he pulled away. Tony gasped after the loss, wanting Steve’s mouth on his, aching for the denial.

“Please,” he said, licking his lips again, savoring the lingering taste of Steve’s thumb – salt and leather and a hint of metal beneath the flavor of his skin. “Please, Steve, please.”

He shuddered in relief as Steve finally moved down to the foot of the bed.

One hand caught an ankle and pulled it firmly to the side, spreading him wide. He couldn’t hold back the hard, sharp gasp, the instinctive squirm, the jerk against the sudden exposure. Steve’s grip was implacable, holding him down with ease as he reached beneath the bed, found the manacle there and tugged it up, snapping it into place above the joint. The feel of cool metal on his skin, firm and familiar, made Tony pant harder, his mouth falling open against the sheet, breath reflecting hot against his own biceps. Steve moved to the other foot as he was trying to absorb that, spreading him completely open as he locked the other foot into place.

Steve knelt between his bound legs, one hand on each calf, measuring the strain in him. Once he was bound he was free within the confines of his restraints. Tony began to rock then, shifting at last. Flexing his whole body, rubbing against the bed. Letting himself move at last, freed from the constraint of stillness by the bindings. The sheet beneath him wasn’t cool or smooth any longer, his body was too hot, damp with sweat in places. Catching it, bunching it. But he just had to move. Side to side, rolling forward, tensing his shoulders, flexing back against the immovable manacles enough to make the cables creak.

He knew Steve was watching him move. Waiting him out, his hands lying cupped over his calves, his knees between Tony’s ankles.

His pulse was racing in his body, throbbing in his joints, his throat. His skin felt electric, tingling with the need for more touch, for pressure, for a weight on top of him. He groaned thinking of it. Of Steve on top of him. In him.

“Please,” he gasped when the motion of his own body wasn’t enough. “I need you, Steve, oh god, please. Do me. Do me. Please.”

Steve made an approving sound, low, possessive. Waited longer as he writhed in response to that noise, whimpering and biting at his lower lip.

“Look at you. So ready for it. So ready for me to fuck you.”

“Yes, god yes,” Tony said, tilting his head up, rolling it onto one arm careful of the blindfold, his chest heaving, his hips rolling his cock against the bed beneath him, longing for more directed pressure. Opening his mouth wide to pant for breath. Desperate. Steve’s big hands slid up his legs, past the tender backs of his knees to his thighs. Gripped them, rolled them wider as he leaned closer to Tony, bending low.

“You know I’m going to fuck you hard, don’t you? And you want me to. I can see it. Look at you, your ass is so ready for me. God, I could do you raw, couldn’t I? And you’d like it. You’d beg me for more.” Steve murmured, his voice rough and Tony’s heart jumped painfully into his throat, his lungs seized and he gasped desperately for air after, imagining Steve’s cock forcing itself into him dry, relentless and tight and aching. He was big. Big and thick. Not huge, but more than enough to split him wide. To fill him to the limit. And Tony couldn’t hold back a cry of need, a flinch, a surge of his hips down as Steve’s hands jumped up and dug into the muscles of his butt, spreading his cheeks open as he leaned down and licked a line from the small of Tony’s back to the very end of his tailbone, stopping just short of his flexing, tightening hole.

He lifted up enough that his words sent puffs of air across Tony’s skin, making him cry out helplessly. Wanting. Needing. Denied.

“Beg me for it. Earn it, Tony.”

“Please, Steve,” he said, breathless words falling from his mouth easily. So easily. Between arches of his hips. The slow, undulating pulls against his wrists, his ankles. Skin slipping against skin. Steve’s skin. Arms lying on his thighs, legs between his. Bare. Already bare. Ready and waiting. For him. “Please fuck me. Until I scream. Fuck me. Hard. Fill me up with your cock. All the way. Until I breathe it. Until I ache. Please, please, please, give me your cock, I want it, want you, Steve, please.”

Steve’s grip quivered as he spoke, tightened, kneading slightly at taut flesh. His head bowed, lowering until hair brushed against Tony’s arched buttocks. “Enough,” he said abruptly, rising up, reaching away with the right hand beyond his leg. Fumbling. Urgent. “Enough, Tony,” he repeated, words muffled, probably from clenching his jaw, Tony thought as he fell silent again. Waited.

The left hand moved away too, leaving him bereft, only to return, wet and sloppy with lubricant, after the snap of a cap, a shake of a hand. He groaned, stomach tight with anticipation at the first touch, balls drawn up, cock aching for contact. Two fingers slid from his tailbone down to his hole, circled once, cool and slick, then in. Hard, fast, sure. He arched his back, up, lifting his ass into the pressure with a soft cry. Tight. Sharp. Muscle quivered. Relaxed. Tightened. Relaxed again around the drive and roll of those fingers.

“Look at you take it.” Steve hissed. “Look at you, god, suck me in, yes.” Something was tossed aside. He felt the bed shake slightly, barely felt the motion of Steve’s other arm. Short, quick motions moving elsewhere, the snap of latex. Was barely aware of anything beyond the stretch in his ass, the deep, aching pressure of those two fingers.

Then the fingers were gone, drawn out quickly, but not harshly, just sliding out with deliberation. Leaving him cold. Empty. Tony gasped, tried to arch his shoulders, pulling hard on his bound wrists, and his back, lifting his butt up as much as he could, seeking that lost contact.

“Down, get your ass down,” Steve ordered, a hand dropping to the bed beside Tony’s shoulder to brace himself as he leaned forward, thighs shoving between Tony’s, spreading him even wider, because while he was fit enough, his muscles strong enough to endure wearing the suit into combat, he was nothing like Steve. Those wide, powerful thighs pressed his down and he felt a blunt shape press against his hole, slick fingers guiding it, forcing him open again.

“Oh yes,” he cried out, biting at his lip, releasing it to gasp as Steve’s cock pressed into him, thick and relentless, slick and covered, easing all the way in in a few short pushes.

“Tony,” Steve said, shuddering, lowering himself until he lay against Tony’s back, bending his bracing arm at the elbow as hips rolled in tight, pressing deep and waiting there until Tony felt split, filled, taken. He still tried to spread his legs even wider to take him even deeper, couldn’t against the bindings. Steve’s mouth was against the side of his neck, hot puffs of breath against his skin. “You’re so hot for me, so open, you take me so well, Tony, like you were made for me to do just this.”

As he spoke he began to rock, sliding into Tony, deeper, impossibly deeper, then back, not playing at the edge, but inside, always inside. Filling him, stretching him, making him ache and arch up into every thrust even though there was no prostate play, no teasing the rim. Just filling. Possessing. Using. Only incidentally rocking Tony against his own cock beneath him, but not enough to make him come.

Steve’s hands slid up Tony’s shoulders, to his wrists. He heard the click of the latches as the manacles came free, and he gave a low, distressed moan, not wanting to give them up yet, but Steve just drew back anyway, arms wrapping around Tony’s chest, over and under the RT, as he shifted them back, pulling him up, lifting him up into his lap, still impaled, legs still spread wide over those incredible thighs.

“Oh. God. Oh… oh… god…” Tony groaned as he was spread even wider, filled even deeper by the pull of gravity. Panted and shifted and clutched at Steve’s arms as he was lifted up by those impossibly strong legs and fucked. Hard. Fast. Deep. From below. His cock was left bouncing unattended before him, aching and spattering fluid across his own thighs, against his lower belly. Grateful for the blindfold now as his eyes fluttered behind it, rolling back as he was shaken, rocked, taken. Rolling like his head back onto Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re going to be sore for days from this,” Steve said near his ear, breath rough, chest working, heart pounding against his back, the words as raw and fierce as his body. “You’re going to feel this ache and you’re going to remember that you’re fighting to get back to it, to get back here where you can have this again. Me. Inside you. Tony. Right where I belong.”

“I will, I will, yes, I’ll come back.” The words were sobbed out between desperate breaths. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but Steve inside him, his words in his ears.

Steve’s right hand scraped down his chest to find his cock. “Come now, Tony. Do it. I want to see it.” He squeezed it lightly, thumb rubbing beneath the head, over the slit, before he began to stroke it all, firm and hard, and Tony keened. Gripped frantically at Steve’s arms, arched, body throbbing, pulse wild as he abruptly came, jerking into Steve’s hold, back onto his cock, over and over as he emptied himself at Steve’s command.  

“Yes, so good, yes, look at you, all over, yes, Tony.” The stream of words was followed by Steve sliding his wet hand up Tony’s chest again, over the RT, over his throat, slick and hot, to find his mouth. He opened it without hesitation, sucking those fingers in, sucking the hot, bitter taste of his own come off Steve’s fingers. He sucked them clean and moaned when he pulled them away.

Steve shifted them down the bed in little steady motions then. Getting enough slack in the bindings on his ankles to roll him down on his side, pressing his left thigh higher and curving around behind him as he continued to thrust into him.

Tony was already sore. Aching. Stretched. Sated and done. But Steve showed no signs of stopping. Still inside him, but moving slower now, holding at the depths before drawing out. Playing with him now, after he’d come, in a way that was almost too much to take, but not enough for him to ask for a break, to invoke his absolute safeword. He whimpered, moaned, fisted his hands into the bunched-up sheet and Steve slowed more. Paused for longer. But didn’t stop, just filled him full again.

“Answer me,” Steve breathed near his ear at last.  

“Ye-yellow,” Tony panted, throat raw, body aching, and Steve stopped moving at once. Held still, but didn’t pull out while Tony shivered, tried to catch his breath, to gather up his scattered will. It was always the truth here. In Steve’s bed. Always. Which was why he so seldom let himself come here.

Especially now. When he saw only pain in his future. But he had this night. After the horrible public debacle of Charlotte, North Carolina. The frustration of Hammer’s control of his suit – turning it off and on at a whim in mid-battle. Of the bitter confrontation with Carol. The angry one with Steve.

Steve. Who had done exactly as he asked, requesting only that Tony come to his room in return.

He relaxed then. Let everything – humiliation, impending torment, regret, despair – go.

“Answer me,” Steve whispered again, lips brushing against the corner of Tony’s mouth, his cheek.

“Green,” Tony sighed, turned his head toward his voice and was kissed at last, deep and slow. “I’m coming back. I promise. After I get him out of my head.” He raised the hand beneath him and curled it up around Steve’s head, fingers threading into his hair, holding him close.

Steve bowed his head against Tony’s and shuddering, pulled out. Tony gasped as his body struggled to close. To remember how to be empty again. How to be without Steve.

“Damn right you will,” Steve said as he reached between them, stripped off the condom, tossed it aside on the bed and began to jerk himself. Hard and fast. Knuckles brushing against Tony’s back, his ass. And the motion, the shake of the bed only made him ache to have him back. Despite the soreness. His soft sound of disappointment disappeared into Steve’s mouth as he found Tony’s and they kissed, wet and slow and thoroughly, as Steve came hot against Tony’s back, moaning Tony’s name into his mouth the while.