Steve’s mouth was hot on his as he pushed him back into the wall, tongue stuttering over his teeth, and Tony tossed the helmet of the armor onto the table, barely noticing as it bumped and skid, knocking a pad of paper and a tablet to the floor. He’d get them later. He gripped tightly at Steve’s shoulder, grasping at his hip, as Steve pressed into him, metal scales sliding across his armor and grating into sparks. Tony reminded himself not to grip too hard, that the metal fingers of his suit could press bruises into Steve’s skin even through the heavy-duty weight of his own armor, but he could barely think, could barely breathe, Steve’s mouth was so hot, so demanding on his, gloved hands gripping tight at the back of his neck, in his hair. Tony’s mouth felt hot itself, wet, burning lips and teeth and Steve’s tongue in his mouth, and he pressed back, meeting him, urgent, needy to taste the heat of Steve’s own mouth against his tongue. Steve groaned, hand knotting in Tony’s hair as Tony licked into his mouth, and his teeth grazed his bottom lip. He slid one knee between both of Steve’s, pressing the metal leg of the armor up against Steve’s groin firmly enough for him to feel it even through all the protective layers, though Tony just registered the pressure on the suit.
One hand in the gauntlet lost its grip on Steve’s shoulder and racked down the scale-mail over Steve’s back, and Tony gasped, gripped tight at Steve’s waist with his other hand and leaned further into his mouth, panting and nipping, exploring the warm valleys and hollows of Steve’s mouth, chasing his little gasps and huffs of breath. He heard a moan and only realized after a moment that it was him, as Steve’s hand flexed in his hair, skimmed down to grip at the armor over his shoulder, dragging him in closer to Steve’s body.
He pulled away from Steve’s mouth with an effort of will that made him feel dizzy and lost as he panted for air, practically groaning against his mouth. “Steve,” he managed, and Steve mouthed at his jaw, making the moan Tony was trying to keep back not only slip free of his lips, but ratchet up a few octaves with need. “My armor,” he managed, hands slipping and sliding on Steve’s own suit as he tried not to catch and press. “Just—just let me—”
Steve didn’t answer, but he ducked his head down, mouthed wet kisses down Tony’s throat, making him tilt his head back with a gasp, and slid his fingers upwards, into the catches of the armor, finding them easily. Tony groaned—somehow it was so hot, hotter than hot, when Steve manipulated the armor, reminded him that he knew how it came apart, exactly what to do with it and Tony in it—and helped him as he pulled off the chestplate as it retracted, set it down. One gauntlet, then the back plate, his other gauntlet, Steve’s hands skimming over Tony’s chest through his undersuit, over his shoulders, down over his back, rubbing over his spine, as he mouthed at Tony’s neck, bit lightly, made his head swim with heat, with stars, until he felt as if he’d fired the jetboots and was floating on air.
“This is new, isn’t it?” Steve asked in a low, rough husk of a tone, skimming his hands down over the tight-fitting black undersuit Tony wore under the armor. Now Tony could feel it, him, the warm broad strength of his hands, even through the thick material of the undersuit, and he almost swallowed his tongue, made a low, helpless noise in the back of his throat and let his head thunk back against the wall.
“Yes,” he managed after a moment, reaching up to run his now bare fingers into Steve’s hair, massaging, stroking, just wanting to touch the messy tousle left by Steve’s cowl as Steve did lewd, wet things to his neck, sucked on his Adam’s apple, and he could barely think. “I’m—ah—I’m trying some new things—with the suit, I—”
“It’s an awful tight little number,” Steve murmured against his jaw, appreciative, and Tony had to laugh.
“Well, it has to be,” he got out breathily, “under the suit, here, I, I’ll get the rest.” He dropped his hands to the legs, looking up at Steve under his lashes, and Steve grinned, pulling back just a bit, his hands lingering on Tony’s sides, bleeding warmth through the undersuit to his skin. His mouth looked so wet and pink, flushed and puffy from all their kisses, and it was hard for Tony to draw his eyes away from it.
“Well, all right,” Steve said, and with no further demur grabbed the back of his own scale-mail shirt and tugged it off in one fell swoop, followed it with his gloves, his belt. Tony swallowed hard as the tight undershirt Steve wore under the uniform was revealed, the way the scale tunic coming off left his hair even more mussed than it had been, the muscles so obvious in his shoulders and across his abdomen, and his hands ached to touch so fiercely that he flexed them before he went back to the releases for his crotch-plate, the legs, his mouth tingled with want to taste the lines and geometries of Steve’s abs. Getting that much of the armor off was a big relief, and he could practically feel it as his cock swelled beneath his undersuit, blood rushing to it with desire, leaving him lightheaded, heat throbbing between his legs, as the metal restraining it fell away. He bent down to get at the repulsor boots, still dizzy with the want, the need, and Steve surprised him by slapping his ass. Hard enough to sting.
He gasped, looked up and glared at him, huffing hair out of his face. “Hey,” he said mildly, narrowing his eyes.
Steve just grinned and squeezed, kneading Tony’s ass cheek in his warm, humongous palm, and Tony almost went cross-eyed right there, bit the inside of his cheek to steady himself and hoped the way his cock was hardening even further between his legs wasn’t too obvious, trapped behind the undersuit as it was. “It’s so tight,” Steve said appreciatively, thumb rubbing away the sting. “Shows off your pretty rear so good.”
“Like hell,” Tony muttered, yanking off one jetboot. Steve steadied him with the hand on his ass as he set that foot down, unwieldy, and that was just unfair. Tony tugged off the other boot, and then found himself spun around yanked up against Steve’s broad, muscular wall of a chest with both Steve’s now-bare hands on his ass, gripping tightly against the swell of it, Steve’s body radiating heat along the entire length of his.
“You have a real nice bottom, Tony,” Steve laughed, nipping against his bottom lip. “All round and—” Jesus, was Steve blushing? Tony reached up, pressed his hands against the sides of Steve’s face to tell, and he was, he felt so warm against his hands “—and . . . voluptuous.”
“Voluptuous?” Tony laughed against his mouth, unable to resist the temptation to mouth gently at Steve’s bottom lip, tease their mouths against each other. “Rogers, are you saying I’m fat?”
“Not at all,” Steve said, cheeks still hot. He ran his hands up, squeezed at Tony’s waist. “In fact, you could still stand to put on a few pounds. But your rear always fills out so nice.”
“You’re such an ass man,” Tony muttered against the corner of Steve’s lips, and he laughed, even as Tony ran his fingers back into his hair.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, and mouthed another kiss deep into Tony’s mouth. Tony moaned, drank it in, opening for it, as Steve filled his mouth up with deep, wet pleasure, pressing in against him, until Tony was pushed flat up against the wall, Steve’s warmth and strength all around him, gripping tightly to Steve’s shoulders with one hand and feeling all that hot, strong skin just under the thin barrier of his undershirt. Steve kissed him deep and warm and full and searing, cupping his ass with one hand and working at the waistband of his own uniform pants with the other, and Tony felt so hot, overcome and dizzy with it, with the heady rush of passion. They shouldn’t be doing this here, anyone could come into his workshop and see them, but in that moment, he didn’t care. He felt ravished, taken apart, for Steve, by Steve, by Steve’s hands, broken apart into his component parts, and it was incredible.
“God, just to feel you,” Steve murmured. He found the zipper at Tony’s throat, peeled it down, following it with his mouth, teeth scraping lightly over his skin. His hand pressed tight against Tony’s hip.
Tony knew how he felt. It was how he felt after a fight, too, not always the flush of passion like this, ferocious and intense, that was one thing, but there was always that urge to touch Steve, to lose the adrenaline in the touch of his body, whether slow and gentle or fast and fierce. He’d had it for a long time, that urge to touch, reassure, but it was better against warm skin, when he could touch and touch and touch, instead of making do with a squeeze to Steve’s shoulder through the armor like he had for what felt like so long before they’d been able to do—this. He arched up into Steve’s mouth, tilted his head and pressed his lips to Steve’s cheek, his own mouth feeling wet and slick and ravaged by Steve’s kisses.
Steve unzipped him a little more, until the jumpsuit was open all the way down to his ribs, hauled him closer, and Tony gripped him tight around the shoulders, pressed kisses into his hair, down his jaw, gasping, as Steve splayed his huge hand out over Tony’s chest and bit down just beneath the hollow of his throat. It stung, but in the best way, tingling through his skin, already soothed with the warmth of Steve’s mouth, the wet of his tongue, and Tony heard himself groan, felt himself arch back even further.
“Steve,” he panted, and curled his fingers in the other man’s hair. There were times when he wished he could just pour himself into Steve and stay there, safe in his skin, times when he just wanted Steve to hold him up, strong hands beneath his thighs, around his back, and never let him go, times when he wanted to fall to his knees and worship Steve with his body, with pleasure, with what little he had to offer, with everything he had, times when he wanted to look and touch and learn him with his hands, the math of him, the shapes and angles and just memorize him, times when he wanted to curl around Steve and keep him warm and safe, times when he wanted to do whatever he could to help Steve stand tall, invite him to lean on Tony, even to flatten Tony with his weight, just so that he could hold him up, and times like this, where he wanted all of those things, all of them at once, with a kind of crushing intensity that left him reeling, his heart pounding in his chest and his throat thick and aching. “Steve,” he said again, and helplessly brushed his lips along his cheek, against his ear, and the rub of his mouth against Steve’s skin felt like fire.
“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said, his voice almost shaking as he ran his hands up over Tony’s chest, along his sides, and Tony almost felt like protesting because he wasn’t, not compared to Steve, but he felt beautiful when Steve touched him like this, treated him like this.
“So are you,” was all he could gasp into his ear. “So are you, sunshine.”
Steve’s breath caught, hitched low and groaning in his throat, and his big hands thumbed bruises into the hollows at Tony’s hips as his hands fell there and held, points of pressure so deep it hurt but still barely felt like pain. “God, you were amazing out there, today, Shellhead,” he said against Tony’s bare skin, tasting and suckling and Tony was on fire, he was, he arched, bucked his hips up against Steve recklessly, couldn’t help it, couldn't help himself.
“So were you,” he gasped, aware he was doing little but repeating himself, then, “you’re always amazing, big guy, spectacular,” just to make it a little more interesting, and Steve laughed, chuckled a little, half-sheepish, against his skin.
“Come on,” he said, then trailed his lips down Tony’s stomach, unzipping him down to his navel. “Damn, this is tight,” he said, peeling it back from Tony’s shoulders with his fingers. Tony shivered, moved to help him, working his shoulders and shrugging out of it even as Steve’s thumbs grazed his collarbone, sending heat shivering through him.
“Name of the game, tiger,” he muttered, even as Steve pulled it halfway down his arms, and then stopped. Tony looked up at him, his arms awkward trapped in the suit, and Steve traced his hands lightly over Tony’s shoulders, making heat dance along his bare skin in the wake of his touch even as the air of the workshop made Tony’s skin prickle with gooseflesh, and smiled a little at him.
“It shows you off,” he said with a tenderness in his voice as well as the heat in his eyes, and traced his hands down over the lines of Tony’s body. An answering heat flared in Tony’s cock, and oh, oh, this was where Steve was going?
Well, damn, he should have given Steve a show of the new undersuit before now. He let his hands fall back down to his sides, took a deep breath that made his chest heave despite himself, and licked his lips, brought his hands up, trapped as his arms were by the suit, and unzipped himself just a little more.
“It’s all yours, honey,” he murmured, letting his voice drop to a low, husky purr of a rumble in his chest, and Steve’s hands pressed in against his skin, palms flat against Tony’s ribs, and he swallowed, there was a thrum through his body, and his fingers curled in against Tony’s back.
“Is that so,” he said, all low and simple, the way Steve always seemed to say things like that.
“Sure is,” Tony agreed, arched his hips again, trying to provide some encouragement. Now even the stretchier, more permissive material of the undersuit felt like too much keeping his aching cock trapped, hot and needy where it rubbed up against the material.
Steve reached down, palmed him through it, and Tony’s brain felt like it short-circuited, just like that. “Steve,” he breathed out, strangled, and Steve just rubbed the heel of his palm even more slowly over Tony’s cock, from balls to tip, through the thick, black material. Tony moaned, and his hands clenched and unclenched against the wall. Steve rubbed him a little more firmly.
“You feel good,” he said, all hoarse and breathy himself. “You’re all hot and ready, aren’t you?”
Dirty talk from Steve, even as straightforward as it was, never failed to scramble Tony’s signals entirely, and at that he was left gasping and bucking up into Steve’s hand, with barely any thought at all, trying to hump it desperately, pathetically. “So ready, honey,” he gasped out. “So past ready.”
Steve grinned a little at that. “Tell me about it,” he said, still in that low, breathless tone that went straight to Tony’s dick, and just cupped him, briefly, making him groan, tremble, squeeze his eyes shut, for one moment before he pressed his hand in against him. The pressure made Tony’s nerves go wild and his knees feel weak, an even louder moan escaping him, and he rubbed shamelessly up against Steve’s hand, and Steve let him. For long moments Tony’s reality narrowed in to just that, the warmth and friction of Steve’s hand, the need in his cock and the heavy weight of Steve’s palm, the warm heavy presence of Steve all around him, the rhythms of his breaths and the way his own skin prickled, needing, how even the bare skin of his own chest felt hot, needy rolls of his hips to get that pressure where he needed it the most and the warm puffs of Steve’s breath against his cheek, Steve just holding his hand there, against him. Steve just let him rub there like that for a while, until he was breathless and squirming desperately up against his warm hold.
“I love looking at you like this,” Steve said after a moment, voice hushed and breathless, still, just a little self-conscious, and some part of Tony’s brain that hadn’t quite shut off entirely managed to make sense of the words, even as Steve pushed his hand in just a bit, rolled the heel of it just slightly, and Tony’s world went white with pleasure, his head tilting back as he groaned, head lolling on his neck.
“Like what?” he got out, after his brain was somewhat functioning again, even with most of his brain rushing south, unable to still the rolling of his hips against Steve’s hand, as needy and desperate as it probably looked.
“Gone on it,” Steve whispered. His other hand came up, curved in gently against Tony’s neck, holding the back of his head, so gently, heel of his palm against the dip of Tony’s shoulder. “Wanting so bad you’re all here. Feeling it.” He ran his thumb over one of Tony’s balls, up along the underside of his cock, brushed it over the tip, and Tony gave a strangled groan that turned out more like a whimper, sagged in Steve’s grip. His groin felt very hot and tight against the material of the undersuit now, and the warmth of Steve’s thumb against his balls seemed somehow heightened by the clinging thickness of the material, making him shiver.
“Ah,” was all he managed. “Ah.”
“Just like that,” Steve murmured, burying his mouth against Tony’s pulse point, beneath his ear.
“Steve,” Tony managed again, ground it out through a fumbling mouth. His knees felt weak, and he wanted to fall to his knees at Steve’s feet, push Steve’s shirt up and draw his mouth over his chest, tasting him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, not when Steve was cupping him between his legs and practically holding him up with it. He rolled his hips again, pressed his fullness into Steve’s hand and felt the heel of his palm like a hard line against the crown of his cock. He groaned, rubbed himself against him, needy little shifts of his hips.
“God, you feel good,” Steve whispered, trailing his lips along Tony’s neck, and Tony gasped, ached, would have tossed his head back against the wall again except that Steve’s hand was there, cupping the back of his head, stopping him.
“That’s . . . that’s my line,” he gritted out, somehow. And Steve, amazing, beautiful man that he was, just laughed, pressing a kiss into the hinge of Tony’s jaw.
“I’m glad it feels good,” he said, voice all frankness. “I know it’s teasing you.”
“How many times do I have to tell you,” Tony gasped out, feeling scattered, spread out into discrete, messy points like he was all over the room, wherever Steve touched him, like Steve had reached into him, taken him apart, and he was quivering at his mercy, “I like that. I like teasing.”
Steve grinned, that wide, sweet grin, and murmured, sheepish, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, “You bring it out in me.”
Hell. How . . . how was Tony supposed to cope with that? “Steve,” he groaned. He could feel the warm air where their breaths huffed out against their skin, they were so close together. He couldn’t look away from Steve’s blue, blue eyes. “You’re a menace.”
“I could,” Steve murmured, cheeks brilliantly flushed, “say the same thing about you, you know. You’re so gorgeous, Tony. You make me crazy.”
Tony huffed out his breath, pushed his hips up against Steve’s hand. “I make you crazy,” he murmured, needy and yet stilled by the look in Steve’s eyes. Steve just grinned.
“Yeah, well, I like to return the favor, I’ll admit that,” he said, the shit, and closed his fingers around the bulge in Tony’s jumpsuit, gave him a good stroke even through the material, and Tony gave a groaning little noise, couldn’t help the stutter of his hips, as pleasure shot through him, pounded like bright light behind the bridge of his nose and rose in his chest and centered, throbbed, pounding in his cock, needy and hot against Steve’s hand. The undersuit felt damp against him now, hot and damp around his cock, and he knew he was leaking into the dark material, shamefully, embarrassingly close.
“Steve,” he groaned. “Please.”
“Shh, Tony, just let it happen,” Steve breathed, curling that hand closer around the back of Tony’s neck, holding him close, tight, and stroking him through his undersuit at the same time, leaning down again to mouth against his cheek, leave slow, wet kisses along his jaw, along his beard. Tony groaned, tilted his head blindly to try to kiss him, to get their mouths to meet, and Steve obliged him, met him with soft, sweet, wet kisses against his mouth as he stroked him through the jumpsuit, until Tony was a limp, weak-kneed, quivering mess between the wall and Steve’s body, and Steve slid his hand down between his legs again, held him there, gently stroking his cock with his thumb. The fact that Steve was probably holding him up with that possessive hand over his balls, knuckling in against his perineum, had Tony weak and wobbly and throbbing like hell against the seam of his undersuit. He gasped, whimpered into Steve’s mouth, and Steve just hiked him up a little with that hand between his legs, making him just moan at the pressure it put on his balls, sent quivering and immediate through his cock, then reached up, pushed down the zipper a little more with his thumb until it was sliding down, revealing the flushed, damp head of Tony’s cock to the air.
He could feel the coolness of it against the wet smears of precome over the sensitive skin, and he groaned low in his chest, almost loud in his ears, into Steve’s mouth. Steve opened his mouth for it, to swallow Tony’s noises with a kiss, then just smoothed his thumb over the tip of Tony’s cock, warm and caressing. Tony gasped, whimpered, jolted; it was almost too much, all of a sudden, his cockhead exquisitely sensitized and already raw from rubbing against the inside of his undersuit, the underside seam of the zipper. Steve stroked his thumb down, used it to press down on the zipper, to unzip Tony a little more, then took him gently in hand. He was so warm it felt like his hard palm was blazing around Tony’s sensitive, aching cock.
Two, three strokes and a gentle nudge of the heel of his palm against Tony’s balls, still trapped in the fabric of his undersuit, and Tony was coming and coming, gasping and going limp in Steve’s arms. He couldn’t think, it was too sudden, too much, all at once, he was falling over the edge, but Steve’s arms went around him, holding him, Steve’s hand closed over his sensitive, jerking cock, catching his come, and his other hand dropped to Tony’s ass, held him up as he collapsed into Steve and gasped out his orgasm into his mouth, then against his shoulder as their lips slid apart and his head dropped there, needing the support. In that moment, it felt like his whole world was Steve, like he was everywhere around him, and he gripped at him tightly.
Steve murmured to him, sweet, easy things, rubbing his ass gently in a way that somehow felt sweet and fond rather than prurient, stroking Tony messily, absently, with his hand over his cock, until Tony shuddered, managed to gasp something into Steve’s shoulder, mouth sliding wetly along the tight fabric, because it was starting to chafe, rather than the aching, overstimulated, trembly pleasure it had been before. Then Steve just held him, fingers still clasped lightly around Tony’s cock, and Tony wasn’t sure how long he drifted, draped against Steve, in his arms, all bright lights and starry clouds of thought and synapses and Steve’s warm body, safe and steady.
After a while his brain was working again, though his knees were still a little iffy, and he became more aware of the way Steve’s wet hand was resting on his spent cock, covered in come, the way Steve was breathing in long, measured breaths and the hard length of Steve’s own dick pressing into his thigh. He lifted his head, nosed in against Steve’s throat, left a kiss there, wet and soft and dragging, then looked up at him, tilting his head back.
“Feed it to me,” he said, sultry partly on purpose, partly because scratchy, hoarse-with-orgasm voice was all he could manage right then, looking at Steve through his eyelashes to add to the effect. He licked his bottom lip, opened his mouth, parting his lips, trying for inviting.
“What?” Steve said, sounding startled.
“The come all over your hand right now,” Tony told him. “I know you have a thing for it. Comeplay. So feed it to me.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s jaw, opened his mouth again, and after a moment, Steve shifted, swiped up some of the come covering Tony’s cock, making him shudder with oversensitivity as Steve’s fingers skimmed over him, then brought up his hand, slid two damp fingers into his mouth.
They tasted like his own come, bitter salt and musk, and Steve’s salt-sweet skin, and Tony sucked on them with satisfaction, giving a quiet groan of his own in pleasure, more for the weight and presence of Steve’s fingers in his mouth, warm and heavy on his tongue, than anything.
“There you go,” Steve murmured, moving his fingers across his tongue. “You like that, don’t you?” Tony looked up at him, feeling how heavy-lidded his eyes were, and Steve flushed, just a little. “Having something in your mouth,” he said, even softer. “It’s not just my thing for—for—you like it. Something to fill your mouth up. To suck on.”
“Mmm,” Tony agreed, and closed his eyes, let Steve stroke the pads of his fingers gently over his tongue. Steve pulled the fingers away in another moment, and Tony kept his eyes closed, opened his mouth and waited to be fed more. Steve’s fingers lingered over his cock, making him shiver as Steve swiped up the cooling come, teased his fingers along his length until Tony was trembling. He smeared come across Tony’s lips as he fed it to him, and Tony let him, smiling a little as he felt Steve’s thumb move slowly, reverently across his lips, making a mess of him, even as his fingers pressed down inside his mouth, heavy and warm, swirled across his tongue, teased gently along the inner walls of his mouth. Steve’s fingers were big and warm, always felt heavy in his mouth, like they really filled him up. He made a show of swallowing, because he knew without even having to open his eyes and look how hot and bothered Steve was getting there beside him; he could feel the way his flush was heating up, feel it baking off of his body, feel how much more fidgety he was getting. “I do,” he said finally, closing his lips around Steve’s thumb and sucking on it before letting Steve tug it free with a wet pop. He opened his eyes. Steve smiled a little, nodded, rubbing his thumb over Tony’s lips again, warm along the bottom curve as Tony smiled back. “You know that. Let me?”
He shrugged out of the sleeves of his jumpsuit with some effort, peeling them down past his elbows, and then reached out, ran his hands down over Steve’s tight-fitting shirt, making sure to brush his nipples as he did. Steve jerked, and his flush deepened, down into his neck, beneath the top line of his undershirt. Tony rubbed gently at his abs, over his hips, feeling his muscles ripple as Steve sucked in his breath, gasped and trembled under the touch. He was always so warm.
“Sure,” Steve said, all rough and jerky-hoarse. “Sure, Tony.”
Tony grinned and eagerly went down on his knees, not bothering to put his own dick away, or zip up; he figured he could give Steve a sort of a show, half naked and debauched like this, his own soft cock still outlined by the jumpsuit, the zipper rubbing gently at the underside of the soft, sensitive flesh. Steve’s hands slid gently over him, not letting go, and somehow that made him feel all kinds of—of warm, wobbly and bright, but he didn’t dwell on it, even as Steve’s hands landed on his shoulders, stroked through his hair. Steve hadn’t managed to do much with his pants earlier, for all his fumbling with them; it was a problem they had a lot, as tight as they were, Steve’s uniform clinging to his arousal to the point where they’d done a lot of acrobatic rolling around trying to get it off in past encounters. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.
Tony framed Steve’s arousal, the bulge in his uniform leather, with his thumbs, rubbing gently, and making Steve give a rough, cut-off noise, back in his throat, gasp and jerk his hips once, roughly, before Tony ghosted his fingers over the bulge itself through the leather. “You did tease me,” he said, and his voice came out rough and husky, soft, low, and Steve’s fingers trembled in his hair, on his shoulders.
“I sure did,” he said, and his voice had gone all breathy and just as soft, if not even softer, hoarse and just as rough as Tony.
“But I’m a forgiving sort of guy,” Tony told him, starting to grin up at him, as he reached for the waistband of Steve’s uniform. “And I want to get my mouth on your cock. So.”
“You’re so generous,” Steve said, mouth tugging into a grin of his own, though he sounded strained, and his eyes had the faraway, distracted look they got when he was really needing it, his back arched just a little bit to push his hips forward in a way Tony was pretty sure wasn’t conscious. “That Tony Stark, what a guy.”
Tony had to grin at that, a little self-consciously, as it turned out. “Mmm,” he said, and went back to working Steve’s pants down over his frankly gorgeous hips, getting lost in the structure of his hipbones, his pelvis, as he did, tracing them with his eyes, math running in his head, stealing his breath away as he looked at Steve, the lines and angles of him, the perfect arcs and trajectories.
When he had them, briefs, protective cup and all, down around Steve’s thighs, his cock sprang free with a vengeance, heavy, flushed and hard, leaking so much precome some of it spattered across Tony’s cheek. “God, that’s hot,” he murmured, as Steve flushed bright red, all down his neck and into his chest and ducked his head down. Tony skimmed his thumb down Steve’s pelvis, into his soft blond curls, just beside his cock. “You get so wet, baby.” He reached up with his other hand, brushed the wetness from his face, licked it off his fingers, and looked up at Steve, sucking on them. Steve groaned, loud and long, breathy and almost aching, and his fingers tightened, just the tiniest bit, in Tony’s hair. He was always so careful, so aware of his strength, that every little flicker of pressure, every tightening of his fingers, meant so much more, swept through Tony with heat and left him breathless knowing that he’d shaken Steve’s control, even the tiniest bit. “You like that?” he murmured softly, his voice still a breathless rasp when it left his lips.
Steve groaned again, panting. “You know I do,” he said, sounding almost uncomfortable and squirming in his hips, not quite awkwardly. It made precome drip off the tip of his cock, and Tony stared at it, licking his bottom lip at that swell of clear fluid along the red-flushed head.
“I know,” Tony said, keeping his voice in that same low register. He flicked his yes up at Steve, met his gaze, let his voice stay low and rough. “You love marking me. Covering me in you. Seeing me all messed up.”
“You always look so sharp,” Steve said, breathless and almost apologetic. “Seeing you all . . . all, uh, all ruffled, it’s—it’s sexy.”
Ruffled. Tony smiled fondly at that. That was one word for it. “I’m all yours to ruffle,” he told him, flicking his hands to indicate himself, head to knees, all on offer.
“God, Tony,” Steve breathed, barely audible, and his hand brushed along the curve of Tony’s ear, down his jaw, before his fingers curled back into his hair. Steve was barely breathing, flushed from his forehead to his cock with a deep, heavy pink, his eyes big and blown, cock thick and heavy against his pelvis. It wouldn’t take long, Tony knew, sadly, as much as he enjoyed lingering over sucking Steve’s cock. Steve was already so overcome. He could see how on edge he was. So Tony would just have to make it the best quick blowjob he could manage to make up for how soon it would be over. Which wasn’t too bad at all, not to talk himself up too much, or anything.
He leaned forward, closed his eyes, rubbed his hands up over Steve’s thighs, over the leather bunched up around the muscular thickness of them, his bare skin, up to his hips. He breathed on just the tip of Steve’s cock, opening his mouth for it slowly. Steve groaned, low in his throat and heavy, shifted his hips. Tony opened his mouth a bit further and closed it over the tip of Steve’s thick, heavy length. He was hot and tasted of Steve’s own salty-sweet musk, deliciously wet. He always had so much precome, leaked it all over. It was hot as hell, to be frank. It embarrassed Steve, just a little, but Tony mentioning it always turned him on, at the same time, made him flush and his breathing go deep and rough and his cock jerk. Tony knew how that went. He felt the same way about how much he liked to give oral, the way Steve’s fingers felt in his ass. Among other things. Especially when Steve talked about it. He spread his knees slightly, leaned forward, sinking down on Steve’s cock, enjoying the weight of it against his tongue, the way he had to open his mouth, relax his jaw, to fit it inside, to let it slide into him. He closed his lips and sucked, curling his tongue just under Steve’s foreskin.
Steve jerked, gasped out Tony’s name, and Tony hummed around his cock, soothing and ramping him up at the same time, took him in a little further, then pulled back to tease at the head again. He teased with his tongue, along the underside where Steve was extra sensitive, letting his own mind float on the sensation of Steve’s muscles working and jumping under his hands, the hot weight in his mouth, the heaviness of Steve’s length and girth pulling on his jaw just that extra bit, the taste of him filling up his mouth, of the precome Steve was leaking against his tongue, and the sweet healthy musky smell of his skin in his nose. One more pass around the head with his tongue and he leaned a little closer, sucked a little harder, taking Steve in until he was hitting the back of his throat, then sucked in air through his nose and took him in a little further than that.
Tony wasn’t sure why it was that he enjoyed deepthroating as much as he did. It was partly the challenge, but also the way his mouth felt so full up with Steve’s (well, okay, particularly Steve’s) dick, the pure focus of it, giving his mouth up to be filled, to be used, for someone else’s pleasure. For Steve’s pleasure. It always made him feel floating and light, made heat build up in his cock and balls even if, like now, his cock hung exhausted and soft between his legs. He felt warm all over, still pleasantly flushed from his own afterglow, tingling under his skin. He sucked a little harder, feeling his face flush as Steve’s fingers slid further back into his hair, curled there, holding him gently but firmly.
Tony loved it when Steve held onto him like that, steadying him, helping him find his rhythm, and for some reason it always made him feel warm, hot in the face on top of a deeper warmth in his pelvis and groin. Steve was gasping steadily now, making the soft, needy noises he made when he was close, fingers scratching gently against the top of Tony’s head. He let Tony ease back when he started to but held firmly to his hair, pulling him back gently onto his length, and that was perfect, just perfect.
It worked out for them, Steve loved having his dick sucked; it was one of his favorite things. Tony figured Steve’s thing for being deepthroated came from the fact that Steve was bigger than most, and not many were too eager to offer that particular act once they saw the size of him. Tony didn’t mind, though. To tell the truth, he liked the challenge of it. Tony let his breath out, letting it flutter over the damp length of Steve’s cock, then sucked at the tip again, more precome slipping out onto his tongue, filling his mouth, played his tongue around the tip, before he sank bank down.
Steve’s other hand slid along his shoulder, cupped the back of his neck, and Tony shuddered all over at that, the feeling of being held by those firm hands. He eased Steve back into his throat again and felt more than heard him gasp, make a needy, almost desperate sound and saw him tilt his head back.
Tony let him sink deeper into his throat, just a little more, breathing through his nose until his lips were stretched wide open around Steve, almost to the base of him, and he felt so achingly full it was hard to breathe at all, Steve’s girth and width and heat almost a little overwhelming. He held it for a moment, hearing Steve gasping for breath loud and heavy above him, then groaning out another low noise in the back of his throat, then he pulled back, just a bit, holding Steve’s cock in his mouth, nearly at his throat but not quite, and teasing at him with his tongue. Steve whimpered that time, full on and higher than his normal register. Tony opened his eyes, looked up at him, just to see, and sure enough, Steve was staring down at him, eyes wide, hair mussed wildly around his face, lips bitten. His chest was heaving, flushed and damp with a slight pearly sheen of sweat. Tony slid back a little more, rolled his tongue to lick lightly at Steve’s tip without letting him slip out of his mouth, and Steve moaned, almost whimpered, the low noise falling from his lips as he stared down at Tony. Tony grinned a little, feeling it as his lips stretched, and curled his tongue teasingly around Steve’s thick heat in his mouth again. Steve’s eyelids fluttered, making Tony focus on his eyelashes for a second, and his cheeks heated up to bright red as he gasped, panted for air, his fingers tightening in Tony’s hair. It felt good. Steve’s thighs were trembling in that way they did when he was close, so Tony sank down on him a little more again, sucked with more energy, not looking away from Steve’s eyes.
“Tony,” Steve groaned. Tony hummed in response, letting his own eyelids flick down, looking up at Steve through the shield of his lashes, spreading his knees and arching his back into the way he was sliding Steve’s cock in and out of his mouth, half purposefully canting his neck to look more submissive, half just driven on by the heat in his own belly, his response to the look in Steve’s eyes, that made him feel like it was the thing to do. He could feel saliva leaking out one side of his mouth, sliding over his lips and down his chin. Steve groaned, lower and deeper, and his hands tightened in Tony’s hair, tugging, not quite roughly but close. His fingers slid down to the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony sighed out happily around his cock, licked gently at the bottom of it as he made another bobbing pass down the length, eased Steve’s fat cockhead down the back of his throat again. Steve hissed, and his fingers dug in, barely noticeable with his control, but still there. It gave Tony that thrill, like it always did, to feel that slightly tighter grip, digging into his skin. He let his eyes close to slits, though he kept them tilted up toward Steve, focusing on working his cock with his throat, trying to make him come in earnest now.
It wouldn’t be long now, he could feel it in Steve’s trembling thighs, see it in his face, and so he slid his hands up along Steve’s thighs, let them curl around his hips, pulling himself closer, and slid him all the way down his throat again, moved back up, gave a long, curling drag of his tongue around Steve’s cock, sucked hard, moved down again. It was not easy to deepthroat someone of Steve’s size quickly, but Tony liked the challenge; it was a certain matter of pride that he could manage to do it, even when it rubbed his throat a little raw. Steve was gasping now, loudly, and sighing, legs trembling noticeably, fingers clenching tight in Tony’s hair, at the back of his neck. Tony let his eyes slide closed, let himself haze out on the feeling of Steve’s cock down his throat, the rhythm of moving back and forth, sucking at him, taking him down as far as he could. He rubbed his thumbs against Steve’s hips, over the bones, affection bleeding out of him through his hands, since his mouth was preoccupied with worship. Steve was really trembling now, his mouth open as he gasped, his lips wet when Tony looked up at him through his eyelashes, and he pulled back enough to suck at him again, give his cock a teasing pass with his tongue, lick around the head, brought one hand down to cup his fingers beneath his balls and squeeze them lightly, stroking them with his thumb. Steve grunted, jerked, and then his eyes shut tight and he was coming, hot and thick and salt-sweet over Tony’s tongue, hands clutching warmly at Tony’s head, in his hair.
He always came a lot, which was no doubt related to the copious pre-come phenomenon, so Tony was prepared for it, let his eyes slip half closed and worked at swallowing it down, letting himself gasp and slurp noisily, because hell, it would probably only make it better for Steve anyway and it was hard not to. Steve’s come always tasted sweet to him, and Steve had told him once, blushing like all hell, that the sweeter taste was because of the serum, which was both fascinating and oddly erotic to Tony, somehow. Some of it escaped despite his best efforts, dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, but he concentrated on sucking softly at Steve’s cock in his mouth, providing gentle suction, bobbing back and forth, as Steve’s hands fisted and his hips jerked, eyes hazy, half open as he rode out his orgasm, cock sliding roughly over Tony’s tongue. Steve was looking down at him, Tony realized, and he winked up at him, suckling a little more thoroughly at the flushed, messy tip of Steve’s cock as it spurted just a bit of extra come over his tongue. Steve groaned, trembling in his hips and down his legs, and his flush deepened. He traced his fingers down along Tony’s throat, dampening his lips with his own tongue, and Tony grinned, flicked his tongue against the tip of him. Steve gasped, arched his head back helplessly, then slid his thumb up, hand unsteady, and wiped off the droplets of come that had slipped down over Tony’s chin with his thumb, then pressed it into Tony’s mouth, beside his own cock.
It was Tony’s turn to groan. He felt warm, warm and hazy, satisfied in a way, despite the desire twisting hotly in his belly, like he’d come all over again, even with nothing at all going on with his cock, soft and tired between his legs. He closed his lips willingly, sucked the come off Steve’s thumb with slow strokes of his tongue, and Steve groaned again, even lower, a rumble in his chest; his eyes slid closed and then open again, his softening cock jerked in Tony’s mouth. After a moment, he pulled down on Tony’s jaw with his thumb, tilting his mouth open, and Tony let him, panting wetly over his cock.
“Tony,” Steve managed, after a moment. He slid his thumb out of Tony’s mouth, thumbed clumsily at his chin for a moment, leaving streaks of Tony’s own saliva there. Tony raised his eyebrows at him, and Steve let out a dizzy, dazed, light-sounding laugh, cupped his hand over Tony’s jaw and eased his mouth closed around the tip of his own cock again. Tony moaned, let his eyes flutter nearly closed, sucked gently, even as Steve gave a broken, stuttering breathy sound. “God, you’re incredible,” Steve muttered, syrup-slow and dazed and soft. “You’re so beautiful.”
And dirty, Tony supplied with amusement, mentally. More that than beautiful, he figured. But Steve was romantic that way, prone to letting his feelings do the talking at times like this, and Tony wasn’t going to argue with him about it, not when it was so sweet, or made Tony feel this warm and pleased with how this was going. Had gone.
Steve was already wincing as Tony rolled his tongue around the tip of him again, hissing in his breath, but he didn’t move his hand away, so Tony didn’t stop, working his tongue gently along the underside of him, then fluttering it over the tip. They stayed like that for a while, Tony sucking softly, wetly at Steve’s cock, hazing out again into the warm softness of it, Steve hissing on his breath, wincing in his hips, and yet jerking unevenly into Tony’s mouth like he needed it. Tony’s mind fuzzed out, went slow and focused in, so he wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Steve’s hand finally fell away from his jaw, back to his side, fingers curling inward against his palm as he gasped and gasped for air, and Tony gave him one last, soothing-teasing stroke of his tongue before he let him slide out of his mouth. He sat back on his heels and tried to figure out how to think now that he wasn’t focused on Steve’s cock between his lips and against his tongue. He worked his jaw, feeling it twinge with soreness, click as he rolled it after so long spent wide open, rubbed one hand across his mouth.
“Are you . . . all right?” Steve asked. His words were still all breathless, his chest heaving, but there was real concern there, and his hand fell to Tony’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Just peachy,” Tony rasped out with a grin, letting his hand fall to his own chin as he continued to work his jaw. He rubbed at the hinge of it, trying to massage out some of the ache without making it obvious. His head still felt floaty and warm, and it was hard to focus long enough to get the words out; they felt slow and lazy on his tongue. “That was great, Steve. Thank you.”
Steve gave a disbelieving little huff of a laugh. “You’re thanking me?” he said. “You’re ridiculous, Shellhead. That was . . . .”
“Guilty as charged,” Tony said, smiling up at him, his voice hitching and scraping in his throat. He couldn’t help how hoarse his voice sounded after having Steve’s cock rubbing his throat raw like that, but he figured Steve was used to that by now. “I am pretty ridiculous.”
“It was spectacular,” Steve finished, like he was setting it down in the record books, for the ages, it was that firm, decision-making tone of voice. The certainty of it settled into Tony, warm, like a blanket over his shoulders, though Steve was obviously exaggerating. He tended to do that. Words like spectacular, perfect, incredible, got thrown around a lot once they’d both finished. It was the orgasm talking, Tony always figured.
Still, at least Steve had liked it. Tony leaned forward, closed his eyes, pressed a kiss to Steve’s bare thigh, above the line of the leather. Steve sighed, and his hand passed through the hair at the back of Tony’s neck, a gentle ruffle of his fingers through the damp strands, then his hand curled in against the skin and lingered there, soft and warm. Tony breathed out against his thigh, looked up at him and smiled. Steve looked down at him and smiled back, and his eyes were soft and sated, full of fondness. Tony felt his smile growing, and then Steve was shifting, pushing Tony back gently with both hands on his shoulders, brushing his chin lightly with a thumb as he did. He put both hands on his leather pants where they were still clinging to his thighs and started to tug them down around his knees, which took some shimmying. Tony watched with pleasure, though he was starting to shiver in the air of the workshop, and things still seemed slow and far away. But seriously, the little jolt of Steve’s cock between his legs as he twisted his hips to get the pants down, the working of his muscles in his thighs, just seeing his hands as they bunched, curled in the leather and worked it downwards—it was something to see, that was for sure. Well worth watching.
And then Steve was fully, gloriously nude, and while Tony was still wetting his lips and breathing unsteadily and looking his fill of him because, well, he could, they’d just had sex, that meant looking was beyond okay, Steve stepped forward, knelt down in front of him (and didn’t that make his dick, his thighs, the muscles of his chest do interesting things), reaching for Tony’s shoulders. His hands felt so warm where they settled there, on his bare skin where the undersuit was still hanging off his waist, and Tony shivered, sucked in his breath on instinct as Steve’s palms curved over his shoulders, warm as twin soldering irons.
“You look so great in that little thing,” Steve said, rubbing one hand down over one side of Tony’s chest. Tony shivered again and swayed forward, into that warm touch, couldn’t help himself.
“’s good to know you approve,” he murmured.
“Mmm,” Steve agreed. He pulled Tony close with the other hand on the back of his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple, nosing against Tony’s awful, sweaty tousle of hair, curving his other arm around his side to rest it in the small of his back and rub there, gently. His hands felt so warm, so strong and steady on the gooseflesh of Tony’s back, and Tony let out a breath into Steve’s shoulder, let himself lean forward and rest there. “It makes your rear end, your thighs, look so good,” Steve added in a low voice that went deep, almost rumbling in his chest, and Tony shivered all over. “You’ve got such pretty thighs.” He nuzzled in further against Tony’s hair and murmured, “You’re so gorgeous, Tony.”
“Mm, I, ah, ‘m glad,” he said, and it came out a slurred mess; he was surprised at how indistinct the syllables sounded. Steve’s hand slid down, groped at the curve of Tony’s ass-cheek through the tight, clinging fabric of the undersuit and squeezed, and he gasped a noise of surprise into Steve’s neck. It ended up a little breathier and more broken than he would have wanted, and Steve’s mouth dragged down to press a kiss in against his cheek as he kneaded the muscle a bit longer. Tony’s knees went weak, and he would have fallen if Steve hadn’t been there to serve as a helpful, supportive pillow, right there under him. His other arm went helpfully around Tony’s back, holding him up. “Wouldn’t want it to make my ass look big,” he managed to mumble out into Steve’s neck.
Steve gave a soft little huff of a laugh, snorting a little. “Like I’d mind that,” he said, and hefted Tony’s ass in his hand, ran his fingers along the lower curve where it met Tony’s thigh. “I like it fuller. I’ve told you and told you.” He squeezed a little more, and Tony gasped again, couldn’t help how his back curved and arched in response. Steve’s hand practically covered that whole side of his ass, it was so big and warm, and that was crazy. Felt crazy, crazy good. Steve rubbed the tips of his fingers against the upper curve of it, the muscle, and Tony trembled, panting. It just felt really, really good, no matter how past desire his body was, and he felt oversensitized all over, neurons firing all out of order or something, floaty.
Steve cupped his hand at the back of Tony’s neck, brought Tony’s head in so Steve could kiss him again. His lips were soft and gentle and warm on Tony’s as Tony opened his mouth for him, let him in, panting as Steve pressed into him, kissed him gently, thoroughly, kissed the breath out of him as Tony fell forward against him, and his mouth was so hot, so soft on Tony’s. Steve kept kissing him, even as his hands fell to Tony’s waist, just above his hips, where the undersuit was bunched up and hanging off him, still so warm against Tony’s bare skin. Tony’s own hands fell there, following his, and Steve folded them in against Tony’s own skin, covered them with his own, and didn’t stop kissing him, teasing gently at Tony’s lips with his own, with his tongue, licking deep into Tony’s mouth.
It was a long time before he pulled away, and Tony felt dizzy, his head felt so scattered. He licked his lips, staring at Steve, and Steve brought one hand up, stroked his thumb along Tony’s jaw, cupping it in his palm. His eyes were dark and a bit dazed, too, hazy. “Hey,” he said.
Tony licked his lips again. “Hey,” he said, back. His voice came out low and scratchy, deep and rough.
Steve smiled, brought up his other hand and gently cupped it against Tony’s jaw on that side, too, to frame his face, let their foreheads touch, curling his fingers back around into Tony’s hair. “You with me, Avenger?” he asked in that low, rough rasp.
“Huh?” Tony mumbled. He blinked. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m with you.” His own voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. He blinked again, took in a deep breath.
Steve’s hand slid back down over Tony’s back, the other rubbing gently across his cheek, along under his cheekbone. He smiled a little more, the expression soft and warm and endearing, then pulled Tony close, folding his arm across his back and stroking it up and down there, letting his other hand settle against the nape of Tony’s neck. His chest was so damn warm, and Tony could hear his heartbeat if he laid his ear close against his chest. He linked his arms around Steve’s back and pressed himself in against him. “I keep it cold down here,” he managed after a moment, “and you’re naked.”
“Very observant, Tony,” Steve said, with a chuckle, and Tony scowled at him.
“Nice,” he said. “You okay, though? You could—you should warm up.” Steve didn’t like the cold. He wriggled a little bit to shift himself closer, blew warm air along the gorgeous curve of Steve’s neck and shoulder, where a touch of gooseflesh was starting to show. Steve shivered, huffed out a breath of a laugh.
“I’m plenty warm right here,” he said, and let his lips linger in another kiss, right under Tony’s ear. “How about you? You getting cold?”
“I still have half my clothes on, Steve,” Tony informed him, gesturing at his half-clothed body with one hand.
“Not quite,” Steve said dryly, palming at one of Tony’s hips, slipping his fingertips under the open undersuit.
Tony frowned at him, even as the touch sent tingles of heat through his still-tired body. “Some of my clothes on, anyway,” he said. “You don’t have any.” He pressed a wet, damp, warmly open-mouthed kiss to the side of Steve’s neck, sucked there gently. Steve rubbed the pads of his fingers along Tony’s hip, teasing along the rise of his ass.
“I’m good,” he said, and bit lightly at Tony’s earlobe, pushing his nose into his hair. “You’re warm enough for me.”
“I won’t be forever,” Tony pointed out, “losing heat like a sieve like this, excuse the busted metaphor,” but, honestly, he was happy to serve as Steve’s personal body warmer that way if Steve wanted it. He spread his legs apart and shifted himself further forward into his lap. Steve splayed his hand out broad over the small of Tony’s back and kissed and licked at the sensitive place on his neck, just beneath his ear, until Tony gasped and tilted his head to the side, trembling with the sensations that shot through him from the warm, wet touch, to give him more room to explore. Steve nuzzled up under his ear, left kisses there, against the soft, tender skin, lips grazing along Tony’s earlobe, and Tony groaned, letting his arms tighten around Steve’s back, the gentle touch of Steve’s mouth leaving him warm all through and shaking. After a moment, he let his hands start to move over Steve’s back, exploring, touching, feeling the warm solidity of him, the presence. The fight had revved him up, left both him and Steve running hot, burning with excess energy, but now all of that had faded, fizzled into something warm and soft and needy, and he just wanted to feel him, there, his presence, the reality of him, warm and alive and right there with Tony, lips soft on his neck, down to his collarbone.
Steve rubbed the back of Tony’s neck with the tips of his fingers and Tony sighed, leaned in further against him. Steve pulled him into his shoulder, and Tony slid his hands up Steve’s back to rest them against the spot between his shoulders, against the nape of his neck. Steve sighed, too, and laid his cheek against the top of Tony’s head. It felt good. Tony let his eyes slip closed, just to concentrate on the feeling of Steve against him, the rhythm of his breathing and the beat of his heart. It was hard to keep track of time, even though he was counting Steve’s breaths, the numbers slipping out of his head as quickly as he logged each one.
Steve’s lips grazed his ear, along his temple, and his arms tightened around Tony, warm against his back, surrounding him with warmth, the feeling almost startling against the chill of the room, and Tony raised his head with an effort to focus. “Hey,” he murmured. “Gettin’ cold, big guy?”
Steve smiled, he could feel it against the side of his face. “Not really,” he said. “It’s not bad.”
“We should take a shower,” Tony mumbled. “Yeah.” He blinked, shook his head to focus again, then pushed himself back with a sense of loss, shivering as soon as he was no longer pressed against Steve’s warm chest. “Oh, yeah, that’s brisk,” he said. The cold air at least helped clear his head, still muzzy from Steve’s closeness, how good he had felt next to him, so that he was only half aware, hazy and slow and soft from it. “Chilly, wouldn’t you say?”
“I guess I’d say a bit,” Steve said, smiling a little still as he reached up and took Tony’s chin in his fingers, brushing his thumb along Tony’s jaw as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Tony felt himself shiver, a deep, heady warmth spreading through him, and he knew he canted his chin down a touch, felt the self-conscious little smile that tugged at his lips in response. He let himself revel in the feel of it for another moment, the way the touch of Steve’s lips tingled along his skin, before he sat back a little more, shifted to get his feet under him.
“Okay then,” he said. “Right. Yeah. Shower it is.” He kept his hands on Steve’s as he got to his feet, tugged at him to pull him up, but of course Steve just unfolded easily and gracefully to his feet like he’d never been kneeling on the ground with Tony heavy in his lap for the last however many minutes. Tony frowned at him because it just wasn’t fair, even as Steve slid his arms around Tony’s waist and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his lips. It was hard not to lean into that, though, and Steve pulled him closer, pressing Tony against the hard length of his body for a long, warm moment before the kiss was over and Tony pulled away. He made himself resist the urge to lay his head down against Steve’s shoulder and just melt into him, strong as it was. “That’s not helping us get to the shower,” he muttered, but it came out all breathy, raspy and soft.
“I didn’t realize we were on a schedule here,” Steve said, smiling a little more. He drew his hands up along Tony’s back, letting his thumbs dig in along his spine, and the warm, firm touch made Tony shiver and sigh with pleasure even when they grazed a painful spot that had to be a slowly forming bruise.
Tony smiled back, brought his hand up to let it brush along Steve’s jaw, curl against his neck. “Are you trying to distract me, handsome?” he asked.
Steve shrugged, but his eyes were light, dancing, and his smile was a shade away from a broad grin. “I just like having a chance to get my hands on you,” he said. “What’s wrong with that, mister?”
“Nothing,” Tony admitted, even as warmth pooled in his belly at what Steve had said, at the grin brightening his face, how happy he looked. “Just don’t want you to freeze down here.”
“Not quite that cold, Shellhead,” Steve said. He was still smiling, and Tony had the silly, sappy thought that that alone, just seeing that smile on Steve’s face, could keep him warm for hours.
“Sure,” he said, pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot in response. “You say that now. But I’m not going to be held responsible for your shivering.”
“Maybe I should be saying that about you,” Steve said, squeezing his hands lightly against Tony’s spine, then gave an over-the-top sigh and smacked Tony’s ass again, lightly this time. “Okay, go on, then, get moving.”
“Oh, so now it’s your idea,” Tony teased him, feeling light and bubbly inside. “I see how it is. Yes, Captain, yes, sir, on it, sir.”
Steve chuckled as he pushed Tony back a little, put his hands on his hip and back to nudge him around. Tony let him; it wasn’t like he minded being manhandled by Steve. More like the opposite. “Just coming around to your way of thinking,” he said. His hand lingered, warm, on Tony’s hip. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Sure, sure,” Tony said, still grinning, and reached back to settle his hand over Steve’s, linking their fingers, before he tugged on him, pulling Steve after him as he made his way toward the shower in the workshop. Steve laughed and followed after him, squeezing his hand against Tony’s.
“Do I get to watch you take that off all the way?” Steve asked.
“Mmm, maybe,” Tony told him. “If you play nice.”
“I am playing nice,” Steve said, laughing. “Aren’t I playing nice?”
“Well,” Tony said, smiling to himself uncontrollably, “we’ll see.”