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Fantasy

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It was a fantasy. The very best kind of fantasy, actually, the kind that wouldn’t ever come true, wouldn’t ever have any complications. In his fantasy Tony wouldn’t say no, wouldn’t chuckle and wave off Steve’s tentative flirtations as the banter they truly are in real life. Because in real life Tony Stark was a good teammate, a good man who was doing more every day to make up for his past. He was with Pepper, everything was going wonderfully, and Steve was devastatingly proud to call both of them friends.

But in Steve’s fantasy Tony wasn’t a whip-smart beta with a brain that could run laps around Steve’s.

In Steve’s fantasy Tony Stark was an omega in heat. He was desperate and wanton, those dark eyes clouded with lust, that razor wit focused on the single goal of Steve Roger’s knot, that incredible ass slick with natural lubrication, his pheromones perfuming the air with a siren call Steve didn’t have to resist anymore.

He didn’t even bother trying. He’d found lube marketed as “omega slick,” like warm silk on his fingers, the scent heady, rich, what he’d imagine Tony could smell like when he was splayed out in front of him. Steve groaned as he drizzled the lube over one hand, and sought that mental picture of Tony splayed out, knees up, thighs glistening. The low throb of arousal shifted into higher gear as Steve’s excellent memory supplied him with snippets of images he could blend together into a seamless new whole. Photoshopping for the brain, that’s what Tony had called his own creative process.

Whatever the name, it let Steve see himself just entering Tony, imaging the simultaneous relaxation of relief and desperate rush of greed for more. The push of just the head of his cock into the tight, slick confines of his fist was the perfect kind of tease, too much and not enough, so good he could come just from that, and yet wanting so much more. In his mind, Tony whined, a desperate, involuntary little sound of an omega pushed to the brink.

Steve’s hips slammed up without conscious thought, sliding his whole length through his fist. Tony would scream, bucking up into him, needing Steve deeper, faster, harder, closer, now! He wouldn’t resist, couldn’t imagine letting Steve get away before he was locked in, and would do anything to keep him there.

Steve’s hand was tight around himself as he thrust into the circle of his hand, the lube making slick noises as his hips flew off the bed. Every push through that slick heat was deep, thorough, caressing every inch of his length with hot, tight friction. Again and again, Steve could see Tony’s back arch every time Steve bottomed out inside him, gasping and needy, eyes wild every time Steve gasped out some involuntary sound of pleasure.

Tony’s head went back as Steve’s pleasure mounted, his throat baring for Steve, and Steve felt his hand moving in double time, hips following that overwhelming rush, the claiming desire to see Tony take him, be utterly ruined for any other alpha… Steve was teetering on the edge, so close, just needing a little more, and growled in frustration as he was held back from the cusp. In his mind, Tony cried out and shoved back hard, coinciding with an almost too-tight grip from Steve’s hand as he completed a stroke. Then Steve felt it, the swelling at the base of his cock. The sensitive knot was filling, trying to make sure Steve’s seed would stay inside Tony’s willing and fertile body, holding them together until that seed had taken root, until Tony was his omega, his mate. The hot pulses of come spattered across the bed with the force of Steve’s orgasm, and he made a sound too close to a sob at the incredible feeling of release. Pleasure crashed through him in almost stunning waves, and in Steve’s mind Tony was riding the same high, gasping out his name in awed reverence.

“Steve… oh, God, please… more…”

Steve gripped his knot hard with slick fingers, a gasp turning into a low moan as he came again in less than a minute, just barely working the swollen flesh. In his mind, Tony was working him, squeezing and writhing, trying to get Steve deeper, closer, smiling in heated triumph when Steve filled him up even more.

Steve kept his hand around that knot, keeping that tight feeling going until his knuckles turned white, reveling in the sensation until nature had finally taken its course and it slowly subsided. Breathing in deep, slow breaths, Steve finally took his hand away, the scene dissipating behind his eyes.

It was just a fantasy. Not real. Never going to happen in real life. Tony was never going to look at him like that, never going to go into heat and need him like that. Never going to splay himself out and silently beg for Steve to fill him up, to breed him, to claim him…

Groaning, Steve grabbed the lube and started all over again, needing to feel the knot under his palm again before he could look the real Tony in the eyes today.