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in a wasp's nest with a short shirt-tail

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"I'm no queer, Tony."

The suit Tony had convinced him to wear instead of his uniform for his address to Congress earlier that day suddenly felt stifling. He was sitting on his chair, looking over briefings on the continuing situation in Wyoming, SHIELD maps detailing areas of urban unrest and militia hotspots even in the territories already under their control, and transcripts from the day's deliberation, when Tony had come in and started talking his nonsense.

"Well nobody's perfect, darling," Tony replied with a shrug, crossing his arms and leaning back with his hip against the edge of Steve's desk. "But indulge me, my dear. This has always been on the list, but none of your predecessors have exactly been my type, you see. Too old or decrepit for my tastes."


"The bucket list. For our particular purposes, the entry was 'give Marilyn Monroe a run for her money.' Some bunker three hundred feet underground isn't the Oval Office, but this'll do, I suppose." He let out a small laugh, before twisting his hand in Steve's tie and pulling him forward. "Fuck Richards for blowing up the White House before you got elected to office."

Steve grunted, annoyance and impatience and arousal all vying for the brunt of his attention, because the expression on Tony's face was as unbearably smug as it ever was. None of the things coming out of his mouth was making sense, but that wasn't all that unusual. He batted Tony's hand away, before standing up and crossing his arms. "Why? What's your point, Stark?"

"The point, Mr. President, is that in about ten seconds I'm going to get on my knees and suck your cock, unless you say no, which would break my heart, but I'm only up for it if you're up for it. Please be up for it?"

Steve forced himself not to blush and rolled his eyes. "I meant why was it ever even a thing you think about?"

Tony shrugged again. Steve didn't mention that he noticed Tony was stalking closer, closing in on the barely a foot of space between them. "Oh, probably a power thing, you know, highest office in the land, the works. That, and I'm probably not going to live long enough to see if your successor is any hotter than you are. Which is statistically unlikely anyway."

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh. "Are you trying to guilt me into letting you suck my cock?"

His voice was breathy as he spoke against Steve's collarbone. "Why, is it working?"

"I think you're insane." Steve tried to set his gaze to the floor, focusing on nothing, some indistinct spot on the carpet, refusing to look Tony in the eyes, smoldering and predatory.

"My tumor talks back to me, so you're probably right," he replied, ghosting his hands down the sides of Steve's body as he got on his knees, his mouth suddenly level with Steve's crotch. "Last chance to say no, Mr. President."

Steve moved back against the desk until the sharp edge of the table was digging into the back of his thighs. "I told you to stop calling me that."

Tony raised an eyebrow in curt response and put his open mouth to Steve's crotch, his breath warm and unbearably moist on his cock even through the fabric of his pants. Steve hissed through his teeth, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the desk, and made the mistake of looking down at Tony. His eyes were staring up at Steve, bright and sharp, before he let out a deep and drawn-out moan.

Steve gasped, suddenly breathless. "Get to the point, Stark."

"Really bossy, I like it," he replied, before he leaned back and unbuttoned Steve's pants. He grinned lasciviously as he took Steve's cock in hand. "Wow, I should really be singing happy birthday to me, Mr. President."

Steve let out a grunt as Tony's calloused fingers wrapped around his dick. "You talk too much."

Tony sighed, and spoke in an undertone that sounded put-upon, muttering, "Why even accept this office if you won't take advantage of the perks?" And whatever Steve planned to say in response turned into a unintelligible groan as Tony wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock.

His mouth was agonizingly warm, so so warm and slick, his lips wrapped tightly around the head of his cock, the flat of his tongue pushing against the slit, and it was taking all of Steve's willpower not to just grab hold of the back of Tony's head and fuck into his mouth until he was gagging, short of breath and unable to do anything except moan around his cock. But giving in to those urges felt suspiciously like letting Tony win, and probably several minutes from now he wouldn't give a shit about whether that's true or not, but he's not about to give up so quickly.

He was fully erect now, could feel his cock throbbing against the roof of Tony's mouth, and his fingernails scraped against the polished wood of his desk. He tried his best not to notice the stretch of Tony's lips around his dick, tried not to think of the fact that anyone could walk in at any moment and see Tony on his knees like a whore. Embarrassment turned his face even redder, and wouldn't that be hilarious, if after all he's been through, his first term ends because of something as mundane as scandal? Who would even expect that?

(And if he were honest, there was a possessiveness there that he didn't want to look at too closely, the barest frisson of anger at the thought of anyone else seeing Tony like this.)

Tony curled his tongue around the head, before moving his mouth down to take in a few more inches. And what a sight Tony made, his cheeks hollowed, his lips red and glistening with spit and precome. One hand rested on Steve's hip, while the other was wrapped around the base of his cock. He took Steve's cock out of his mouth and licked the entire length of the underside, slowly and tortuously, lapping at the bead of precome at the head, before swallowing it to the root in one smooth motion.  Steve gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, obligingly spreading his knees wider as Tony took him into his throat, wet and so unashamedly eager that he couldn't help shuddering as Tony hummed around his cock.

Steve finally put a hand forward and grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair, and carefully pulled Tony's head forward, pulled his mouth down to his cock, until the head nudged against the back of his throat. Tony's eyes darted upwards, surprise evident by the way they went wide, before they went half-lidded, and he let out a moan that shot right through Steve's dick and up his spine.

He started fucking Tony's mouth then in earnest, thrusting down his throat, the flat of Tony's tongue slick against the underside of his cock. His grip on Steve's hip tightened, hard enough to leave bruises, and there was a small part of him that regretted that any marks Tony could leave probably won't stay for long.

Together, they set a rhythm, Tony bobbing his head up and down, mouth wet and sloppy, and Steve could feel himself thrusting faster and faster, fucking Tony's throat too fast, could feel the muscles of his throat contract to accommodate his cock as Tony struggled to breathe. Steve arched his spine, his head thrown back, one hand flat on the top of his desk and the other tangled in Tony's hair. He closed his eyes, his pants steadily becoming more erratic, heavy breaths that accompanied the obscene noises of Tony's mouth on his cock. Slightly pained half-chokes mingled with muffled moans, and Tony's eyes fluttered as though there was no greater pleasure than sucking Steve's brains through his dick. Steve pulled off long enough for Tony to catch his breath, just several heady and intoxicated moments, before sliding his cock back in, and Tony should be protesting at being so utterly used, but he didn't care at all, wrapping his tongue around his dick, letting Steve angle his head so he could thrust hard and fast into his mouth--

Steve came with a stifled moan, biting his lip hard enough that he must have drawn blood, a tang of copper at the corner of his mouth. He pulled Tony's head forward, down his cock, and Tony hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard as he came, spilling at the back of his throat until he was utterly spent.

Steve set both his hands flat on the table, taking a few moments to regain his breath, while Tony rested on his heels, wiping at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and massaging the column of his throat with one hand.

"Y'know, it's a shame you weren't wearing your Cap outfit, that would've been killing two birds wit--ooophh--" The rest of his statement turned into an undignified yelp as Steve interrupted him, leaning forward and grabbing him by his wrists. Steve pulled Tony up until he stood against him, his erection jutting against Steve's hip. He turned them around so that Tony was the one leaning back against the desk, his knee wedged between his legs against his crotch.

"You were the one who told me I should wear a suit in front of Congress," Steve growled.

He rubbed at the bulge at the front of his pants, pushed him forward until Tony was practically seated on the top of his desk. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled Tony's cock free from the band of his underwear, thick and swollen and heavy in his hand.

Tony grinned lazily, and replied, "Well, no one says we can't do this again."

Steve wrapped his hand around Tony's cock and began rubbing him in long, tentative strokes. His other hand was wrapped around one of his wrists, pinning Tony back to the desk.

Tony brought up his free hand to the back of Steve's neck, caressing the short hairs of his nape, and leaned forward, panting breathlessly against his ear. "Why--ahh--Mr. President, I had no idea you could be so forward."

Steve tightened his grip around Tony's cock, eliciting a sharp, keening whine from the man underneath him. "Shut up, Tony."

He stroked Tony's cock at an efficient, almost brutal pace, thumbing at the bead of precome at the slit, and he was already unbelievably close just from sucking Steve's cock. Tony pistoned his hips forward, thrusting into his hand, and there wasn't nearly enough slickness for it to be entirely pleasurable, but Tony only moaned, loud and unrestrained, so Steve put his mouth on his to shut him up, teeth and tongue and the taste of his own come still lingering at the back of his throat--

With a sharp twist of his wrist, Tony was shuddering, spilling all over his hand, staining the frontpiece of his suit. He broke the kiss and buried his face in Steve's neck, breathing in shallow and broken pants, his eyes hidden away as Steve stroked him through the rest of his orgasm, jerking his softening cock until Tony's grip on Steve's shoulders had loosened, his body pliant and relaxed against his in the afterglow.

Neither of them moved for a couple of moments, until Tony coughed, and with the silence broken, the sharp musk of drying sweat and come was suddenly overpowering.

A small giggle, before, "Well, that was fun."

Steve stepped away from the desk and began to wipe his hand on the front of his ruined shirt. "You've made a mess."

In response, Tony just fixed him with a stare before he slowly, meticulously, took Steve's hand by the wrist and brought it up to his mouth, sucking on each one of his fingers, pulling each digit into of his mouth and releasing them with an obscene pop, before running his tongue down the front of his palm.

Steve swallowed, before pulling away his hand with a grunt.

"Don't be such a grump, darling. That was pretty good, for what I expect was your first foray into anything that wasn't missionary. Are you ready to accept the concept of alternative sexualities into your heart?"

"I'm not a queer. Doesn't mean I'm a nun."

"For someone who isn't even a little gay, that was a pretty gay thing we just did, my dear."

"I'm not," Steve repeated, closing his eyes, annoyance coming back to sharp focus now that the thrill of arousal was starting to subside. "But I've lived through wars. You learn to take what comfort you could get."

Tony quirked his mouth thoughtfully, and Steve couldn't help but notice the smear of come still on his beard. With his tousled hair and rumpled shirt and bruised, red mouth, his overall appearance was absolutely debauched, and he was still much too close--

"Well, there's a lot more comfort where that came from, darling," said Tony, and pulled him forward by his abused tie, catching his mouth in a kiss.

"Don't call me 'darling.'" Another kiss.

"Mr. President?" Another kiss.

"Just call me Steve, you utter bastard."

A laugh against his mouth. "Alright. Steve, then."