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What Goes Around Comes Around

Chapter Text

Bruce appears beside Tony in the lab with one hand behind his back. Tony looks up, delighted. “Did you bring me something?” he asks, leaning to try and look around Bruce. Bruce shifts so that he can’t.

“I made you something,” Bruce says, smiling in that slightly bashful way that always makes Tony want to involve Bruce in an inappropriate relationship with his nominal boss.

“Is it a sex toy? Please tell me it’s a sex toy!” Tony begs.

“You always ask that,” Bruce says, but he’s a little flushed now.

“It is a sex toy!” Tony crows, though he is by no means certain of that. He’s only certain that Bruce blushing somehow works to counteract the weeks of mental conditioning that Tony has been building up in order to work with Bruce without scaring him completely off.

So he actually is kind of shocked when Bruce says, “It’s a sex toy.”

Tony gives him a wide-eyed look.

Bruce rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m a scientist. There’s only so many times I can be asked to make a sex toy before I actually start thinking about how to make a sex toy.” He sounds a little sulky about it.

“So does this mean we’re having sex?” Tony blurts, his mouth light years ahead of his brain, but Tony can’t help it. He’s wanted to fuck Bruce blind since he’d jabbed him in the hip with an electrified probe, and none of the intervening time has convinced him to give up on the idea.

“Hey, I made you the toy. That doesn’t mean I have to participate in its first performance,” Bruce says.

“Of course you do,” Tony says. “No one but you knows how to work it, and it isn’t the same if you don’t get to see your scientific genius pay off!”

“I’ll show you how to work it...” Bruce begins, but Tony crams his hands over his ears.

“La la la la!” he sings vigorously. “I don’t want to know; it should be a surprise!”

“Tony,” Bruce says wearily. “I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

Tony tries to look serious, but he’s still secretly over the moon that Bruce made him a sex toy. “But you don’t know it’s not.”

“But if it’s not, there’s a good chance that you’ll wind up dead trying to prove it,” Bruce says firmly.

Tony grabs his libido in both hands. “Okay, how about this. You don’t have to have sex with me. You just have to use the sex toy you invented on me. I won’t pressure you.”

“Tony, you’re pressuring me right now!” Bruce groans.

“You can’t tell me you don’t want to see if it works,” Tony says quickly. “And if you start to feel like it’s, you know, not going in a good way, we can stop. And besides that, you’ve never said you don’t want to be involved in sex, even if you can’t personally achieve an orgasm, which I think you can.” Tony holds up both hands as Bruce opens his mouth. “Tell me truthfully that you don’t want to see the results of your handiwork, and I’ll go see if I can find someone else you can teach to use your sex toy.”

Bruce slowly closes his mouth. After a few seconds, he says, “It’s a little technical for a layperson.”

Tony tries not to look triumphant. “So you do want to see how it works?”

Bruce looks uncomfortable. “I’m very smart,” he says after a while. “I don’t know how I keep getting into these situations with you.”

“What situations?” Tony demands.

“Stay in the tower. Accept a contract with SHIELD. Accept a contract with Stark Industries. Share lab space. Live with five other people. Make you a sex toy. Take your pick.”

“Those are all good things,” Tony objects. “Tell me your life hasn‘t been a million times better since all those things.”

Bruce makes a frustrated sound. “Things don’t happen just because you want them, Tony.”

“Of course they do,” Tony insists. “That’s exactly how things happen. You want things to happen, you devote your resources to things, and things happen.”

Bruce practically growls now. “I’m not going to use the sex toy on you.”

“Fine,” Tony says, pretending he doesn’t care. “Who do you want to demonstrate it to?”


“JARVIS, lights at forty percent,” Tony says, leading Bruce into the penthouse bedroom. Bruce is dragging his feet a little, and still holding the mystery sex toy behind his back -- Tony thinks it has to be in a bag, as he’s heard it crinkle a couple of time -- but he’s no longer protesting. Tony checks out Bruce’s groin, and is pleased to note that the good doctor has at least a semi going on down there. “Is that enough for you to see what you’re doing?” Tony asks, and whips off his t-shirts, throwing them across the room.

“Yes,” Bruce says, voice stilted.

Tony turns to look at him. “Look, I find you insanely, impossibly attractive. You have an unmeasurable IQ, and can actually keep up with me, which is so rare in combination with someone I also actually like. Your hair is an adorable mess, your ass looks great no matter what you wear, I want to run my hands through the hair all over your body so badly that I have to work really hard not to imagine what you look like without your clothes, and I bet you’re hung. All the rangy geek-guys are hung.”

Bruce blinks at him, mouth a little open, but not actually interrupting him, so Tony feels free to go on. “The point is, this is not frivolity speaking, here. I know it may seem that way, because I’m light-hearted and free-spirited and all that, but I’ve wanted to have sex with you since the helicarrier, and I have been not touching you all this time. I know I tease, because I think you could use a little teasing, and I’ll be honest, I definitely have been serious every time I’ve asked you to build me a sex toy, but a lot of that is because I can only make so many of my own sex toys before I’m bored with knowing what they’re going to do before I ever use them. And anyway, I’d want to sleep with you without a sex toy, but if you don’t want this, with or without the sex toy, this is your get out of sex free card.” Then, a little more awkwardly, he adds, “I like you Bruce. I’d like to sleep with you, for whatever definition of sex that you’re capable of. But I don’t want you to do it if you really don’t want to.”

Bruce gives him a long solemn look. “I made you a sex toy because I wanted to do something to you, I want to see it. I feel like I shouldn’t want to, because I don’t know if it can be anything else, but I want to. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were coercing me.”

Tony’s heart pounds. “I wouldn’t have believed you if you hadn’t made me badger you into it,” he says, grinning.

Bruce grins back a little hesitantly.

Tony shucks off his jeans. “Okay, where do you want me? Do I have to keep my eyes closed? Are you going to be naked?”

“I wasn’t planning on being naked,” Bruce says slowly.

“Be naked,” Tony says breezily. “It’s very freeing. And then even if it’s a one way thing, there’s some togetherness. Hey, do you jerk off?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, flushing. “Carefully.”

“Well maybe that, then, if you know. I can be careful.”

“You couldn’t be careful if you were encased in a bubble, Tony,” Bruce says, half-laughing. “I want you on your knees on the bed.” Tony’s cock jerks energetically. “And you have to keep your eyes closed once I take the toy out of the bag.”


But he doesn’t close his eyes just yet, because Bruce is setting the bag aside -- it’s small, the size of a plastic grocery sack -- and stripping out of his button up and jeans. Tony watches each gloriously hairy inch of his chest being exposed while he twists his hands together to keep from grabbing Bruce and mauling him. When Bruce kicks off his jeans, his legs are almost as hairy, and the thick patch of hair between Bruces thighs is shot with gray, like the hair on his head. Tony thinks it’s unfairly erotic, and would be more sulky about it if he couldn’t abruptly see the size and shape of Bruce’s cock, which makes him want to curl up and die at the idea that he might never get to be involved with that cock directly.

“My eyes are up here, Tony,” Bruce says fondly, and Tony drags his eyes upward obediently, with heroic effort.

“You’re gorgeous, God. I’d like to suck you off for about a week.”

Bruce closes his eyes for a long moment, and then says gruffly, “Just turn around and get on your knees.” Tony obeys with alacrity. After a second, Bruce says, “This was designed to be pretty intense. Do I need to immobilize you?”

Tony would stand up and do the wave in favor of being immobilized except for the way that Bruce sounds like he’s kind of dreading the answer. Instead, he says, “If you want to for safety, or just because of the hotness factor, you can, but I don’t anticipate it being truly necessary.” He’s talking out his ass, of course. He has no idea what the toy is, and has no way of gauging whether or not he needs a side of bondage to deal with it. But he’s done a lot in his life, and only rarely has he felt like he actually needed tying down for any of it.

The bed dips as Bruce climbs onto it behind Tony, the bag crinkling merrily. Tony would like to spontaneously combust when Bruce uses both hands to spread his thighs wider, but instead merely drops down on his elbows to stabilize himself.

“Sorry,” Bruce says.

“You have permission to touch me. In fact, I encourage you to touch me however and whenever you want to. I trust you. I know that you don’t, but I do, and if you find yourself ready to fuck after the toy, I’m down with that, Bruce. You don’t even have to ask. I’m down for whatever you want to do.” Tony tries really hard to keep his voice serious -- he really is being serious -- but he thinks it might be quavering a little with excitement.

Bruce doesn’t say anything, but Tony hears him pulling things out of the bag.

Bruce presses something against Tony’s hole, something slim that slips right in, and then pulls it out again almost as quickly. Tony wonders at it, but it had been slick, and that’s all he’s got. He’ll figure it out later. “Okay?” Bruce asks from behind Tony, interrupting his thoughts at the same time that Bruce’s tone spikes a little jolt of arousal through his calm.

“Born ready,” Tony smirks.

“A little cold,” Bruce says, and then there is some pressure against Tony’s hole, something wide, but not too wide. Tony relaxes deliberately, and it slides smoothly inside. Tony recognizes it from its shape; he’s had one used in him a few times before. It’s a speculum. He also understands that whatever that first thing had been, its purpose had been to lubricate. There is no way the speculum could have slid into him so easily unless Tony had already been wet inside.

His mind calls up indistinct images of what it might have been, but he’s more focused on the way Bruce’s big warm hands are stroking across his ass, one just spread wide, holding Tony’s hole a little open with the side of his thumb, the other actually cupping and kneading a little. Just having Bruce’s hands on him is so hot that Tony kind of wants to die. At the same time, the speculum is erotically agonizing. His cock jerks and his skin seems to buzz; he doesn’t know why he reacts this way to it, but he has every time he’s had one used on him. Some kind of undiagnosed medical kink, maybe? Although Doctor Banner examining him might be enough of a medical kink all on its own.

Bruce makes a humming sound and the speculum in Tony shifts a little and begins to expand, drawing Tony open. Tony bites at his lip and shivers at the feeling of being pried open. He can barely imagine what it must look like, but even so, his body stays mostly relaxed. He’s incredibly aware of Bruce behind him, and the way Tony’s thighs are spread wide and his ass is presented up and back, prepared for and helpless against the slowly expanding width of the speculum.

“Just a little more,” Bruce says coaxingly, as though Tony had somehow objected, which had been no place in Tony’s mind at all. Bruce’s voice, though, is low and rough, deep enough to knot Tony’s stomach into a twist of desire. He wishes Bruce would fuck him.

Tony doesn’t say it, though. Whatever this is, Bruce wants it, and Tony is sure that it’s something Bruce wants badly. He didn’t exactly say, and Tony didn’t ask, but he doesn’t have to. Bruce finally inventing him a sex toy is proof enough. Bruce wants something badly, even if Tony isn’t sure what.

The speculum clicks, fully expanded and locked into place; Tony feels like he’s never been forced so open in his life. Bruce says, “Nice,” and then, “Slick and wide open for me,” and cups one hand around a cheek of Tony’s ass, his thumb pressing a little near Tony’s hole, making the speculum shift inside him.

Tony chokes out a sound of pleasure and surprise -- never ever would Tony have thought to ask for dirty talk -- and Bruce just hums again, pressing a little harder.

“You don’t have to do anything, Tony,” he says gruffly. “Just react however you react. There’s no need to pretend at anything. Just let yourself be yourself.”

Tony can’t tell if the words reassure him or crank his desire up into the stratosphere. He doesn’t remember the last time someone didn’t want him to be something other than himself, whether it was quieter, more serious, less of a smart ass, more of a team player. Reassurance or stratospheric arousal, whichever it is, he shudders and Bruce sweeps a warm, broad hand along his back.

Tony is so wide open that he almost doesn’t notice as something slender slips through the center of the speculum. It only becomes obvious when whatever it is presses gently against him inside, the touch light and brief, just touching, not stroking, until it slides along Tony’s prostate. Tony jerks out a little surprised cry, and Bruce makes a quiet, satisfied sound.

He brushes the device firmly against Tony’s prostate for several seconds, just pressure, and then moves it in a small circular motion that makes Tony’s breath hitch unsteadily. Tony is just trying not to look back over his shoulder or down between his spread thighs to see what Bruce has.

“Just wait,” Bruce murmurs. “It will be worth it, I promise.”

Anticipation flutters in Tony’s belly, twisting with the pleasure of being stroked so deliberately inside, and he waits as much because he doesn’t see any other option as he does because of Bruce’s words.

“Ready?” Bruce asks, voice light coarse silk, and Tony would like to know what exactly he’s supposed to be getting ready for, but he’s given Bruce the equivalent of a promise not to ask.

“Born ready,” he says again, belly twisting a little in a tight spiral of desire as he waits.

“Okay,” Bruce says, and suddenly the cool, slim thing inside him buzzes into motion, all vibration and pressure, and Tony croaks out some kind of shocked pleasure sound. He feels hot all over, abruptly, like his skin has erupted into stinging sweat and he would jerk, somehow, he would move, though he’s not sure if it would be toward or away from the stimulation, but he had told Bruce he didn’t need to be immobilized. He hears himself moaning, high and thoughtless, with something like shock, and Bruce presses the thing harder against his prostate so that Tony’s bones feel hollow, the vibration seeming to sing in the very marrow of them.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. It seems like a long time -- Tony is sweating and straining a little, he can feel it in his shoulders, and his thighs are taut and singing -- and then Tony is snarling out a struggling sound of surprise and relief as he comes hard, gasping and panting for breath.

The device stops moving inside him, the vibration stilling, but Tony can still feel the pressure against his prostate, and he’s gulping out little sounds as his body shudders in the aftermath of his orgasm. His muscles ache a little with the tension of straining to be still, but something about that feels good, too, he feels good, calm, even though the sounds he’s making are hoarse and effortful.

He has no idea what Bruce has, exactly. Some kind of direct prostate stimulator, clearly, but he doesn’t know how it’s made or what else he can do. He mostly knows that he’d been driven to orgasm so quickly that he’d hardly had time to really process it, and his nuts ache slightly from the intensity of it. His cock, though, is still mostly hard.

“I’m going to do it again,” Bruce tells him, voice warm and thick with pleasure, though he sounds a little short of breath. Tony isn’t sure whether to brace himself or just relax and let it happen. He isn’t sore, the thing doesn’t have the width to make him sore, but he feels intimately aware of the thing inside him, and he’d come so hard it feels like he might never come again.

“Ready?” Bruce asks behind Tony.

“Give it all you’ve got, big man,” Tony pants hoarsely, meaning it absolutely, he’ll let Bruce do anything to him.

“Don’t forget you asked for it,” Bruce says warmly, and Tony hears a little click this time before the vibration inside Tony makes him jerk desperately; the sounds locked in this throat can’t get by one another to escape, and he can feel his hips jerking helplessly as Bruce braces him with one broad thigh. He would say please, but he can’t tell if he wants Bruce to stop or keep going, and all he can do is shudder, and only that because he’s trying not to thrash, the vibration against his prostate feels almost hot, like a sunburn.

Bruce is ruthless with the prostate stimulator, and Tony can’t imagine it being either worse or better, until Bruce says,

“Careful not to bite your tongue,” and there is an enormously bright surge of pleasure that arcs from Tony’s ass and all the way up his spine, a different kind of pleasure than the vibration, a shock of pleasure that is almost pain, and Tony’s body clenches on the verge of orgasm, his throat working as it tries to force out some kind of noise in response to it.

“Fuck,” Tony finally bites out. “Fucking, fuck, Bruce, oh my god, fuck!”

Bruce doesn’t answer except to do it again, a bright pulse that almost burns, it’s so good, and Tony doesn’t know what it is about it that sends sparking pleasure messages through this thighs to his toes and up his back through his arms to his fingertips, but it’s enough to make him shake through another vicious orgasm, his balls twisting painfully.

Tony lets out a hoarse little scream and Bruce murmurs, “One more time.”

Panic and lust drag through Tony from his belly to his spine. “I can’t,” he pants, and tears spill down his cheeks. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Bruce says soothingly. “You don’t have to do anything but let the wand do the work.”

Tony is fairly sure his cock isn’t even hard again yet, and he can hear himself sucking in sobbing little breaths. “It’s too much,” he whispers, his voice a hoarse wreck, his ass feels like it’s throbbing and almost tingling inside. He wants someone to fuck him, wants something more substantial and less piercing than the ‘wand.’”

“One more time, Tony,” Bruce says cajolingly, and Tony can’t bring himself to tell him no.

“Quick,” he begs, because he isn’t sure he can take much more, and Bruce splays a hand at the small of his back.

“Quicker isn’t always easier,” he says in clear tones of warning, but there is something about the pressure of the pads of his fingers against Tony’s skin that makes Tony think that quick suits Bruce just fine.

“If I can,” Tony says shakily, and before he can get anything else out, the wand is buzzing inside him, first just pressure and vibration, and then that sharp jolt again, seizing Tony’s whole body into shivering alertness, tensing his whole body, neck to toes. He screams out something, maybe an objection, but the jolt doesn’t stop this time; Tony shudders and twists at the crackling stream of agonizing pleasure, staggering out something that he wants to pretend is language, and he doesn’t even feel the buildup of an orgasm, only knows it’s happening because of the clenching of his body around the speculum and the dribble of moisture from his cock. He feels too choked to make the sound that wants to escape him, but then the wand is being drawn out of him and he feels his whole body slump, shaking, and ducks his head to keep back the tremulous, helpless shuddering that he can’t seem to stop.

“That’s perfect,” Bruce says, voice low and rough. Tony collapses down onto his belly, though the speculum is still holding him wide open. He’s lying in a pool of his own jizz, and he isn’t sure he’s ever felt better in his life. His whole body feels like it’s alert to every sensation, the brush of Bruce’s fingers along the small of his back, the light breeze from the air conditioner, the slick, smooth mess he’s lying it. At the same time, he can hardly hold himself upright, and has to resort to wadding a pillow up and turning his head to one side so that he doesn’t smother.

Bruce moves upward to sit next to him and shows Tony what he’s holding; it’s long and slim and white, with a wider, paddle like shape at the tip. The stem between the handle and paddle is flexible, and there are two buttons on the side. “Tell me?” Tony asks, teeth chattering a little.

“One button makes it vibrate,” Bruce says. “The other delivers a mild electrical shock directly to the prostate.”

Tony shivers, imagining, even though he doesn’t have to imagine. The third time, at least, the shock had been so intense that it had forced an orgasm out of Tony that his body hadn’t been ready to have. Bruce apparently likes forced orgasms, and he’d just forced Tony through three. Tony would like to say he has no idea how he feels about the wand at all, but the truth is, it had been so good, so unexpected and so wickedly invasive. And. Well, Tony has never had a problem with having love-hate relationships (with people, with toys, with machines), and he thinks Bruce is a motherfucking genius.

“That doesn’t actually sound that complicated,” Tony says, voice harsh. “Actually, that sounds like the electric probe I jabbed you with on the helicarrier.”

“Not an inaccurate comparison. And maybe not that complicated,” Bruce agrees. “But I wouldn’t have wanted to try to explain to anyone that they could actually injure you with it if they let it shock you too long.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony says, buzzing and exhausted and still really desperate for Bruce to fuck him. “That’s just fucking evil, Bruce, I fucking love it. Best sex toy present ever.”

“What goes around comes around, Tony,” Bruce snorts. He runs a warm hand along Tony’s still-quivering skin. Tony is thrilled to discover Bruce is an evil genius at heart. Think of all the mayhem they can accomplish together. He turns his face enough to see that Bruce’s erection is still monstrous and present, and Tony has to physically restrain himself from reaching for it, wrapping each hand around the opposite wrist.

“You don’t want me to fuck you after that,” Bruce tells him seriously; Tony begs to differ, but holds his peace for the moment, waiting for the rest of Bruce’s explanation. “It would be excruciating. You’re going to be so oversensitive that any prostate stimulation at all will practically cripple you for the rest of the day.”

“But?” Tony says, hoping for a but.

Bruce just shakes his head. “But nothing,” he says, and Tony can feel his face fall. Bruce brushes his fingers into Tony’s hair, petting him, which Tony is a little sulky to discover calms him down pretty effectively. “Nothing this time,” Bruce allows with a little smile. “You’re so exhausted you’re shaking, and I’m betting all your muscles feel like Play-Doh. So nothing this time. Next time, I’ll go a little easier on you, and we’ll see.”

Tony shifts his head a little to get a good look at Bruce’s eyes. As far as he can tell, Bruce is sincere. Of course, Bruce is usually sincere. Bruce is also right; Tony doesn’t think he could tie his own shoes right now.

“I talk a big game, but you know you don’t have to do this, right?” Tony asks awkwardly.

Bruce’s smile is wide and warm as sunshine. “Oh, Tony. You should have seen you. I would pay money to do this to you.”

Tony feels his cheeks warm with something like surprise. That doesn’t usually happen to him. Nevertheless, he can’t let Banner get in the last word. “That’s okay; you can pay me in sex toys.”

Chapter Text

The day after Bruce brings Tony a sex toy and then totally blows his mind with it, Tony is pounding a dent out of one of the leg plates of the armor when the door to his workshop wooshes open and Bruce steps in.

Tony has been preparing for awkwardness in a sad sort of way, because he likes the hell out of Bruce, and doesn’t want to force his way past all of Bruce’s formidable defenses again. He will, of course, because he’s not great at giving things up that he wants, but he’s not looking forward to it.

Bruce however, looks perfectly normal. Actually, he looks a little better than perfectly normal. He looks a little anticipatory. “Can that wait?” he asks.

“Sure,” Tony says, and tosses down his hammer. “What’s up, big man?”

Bruce flushes slightly, and Tony feels a surge of delight. So far, Bruce blushing has meant nothing but good things for Tony. “Is this about the sex toy?” Tony asks, trying not to bounce on the balls of his feet. “Tell me it’s about the sex toy, Bruce.”

“It’s… sort of. I mean, it’s related. Can we just…” Bruce’s blush is fiery now.

“Yes, we absolutely can,” Tony says, and grabs Bruce’s elbow to drag him out of the workshop. He automatically goes for the penthouse button in the elevator, and Bruce has to intercept his hand.

“My place,” he says, pressing the button. He’s still blushing faintly, and only stealing short little glances at Tony. “That’s where all the. Well.”

“All the what?” Tony demands, losing control of himself and bouncing excitedly. “What have you been up to, after you left me lying in a puddle of my own jizz without the capacity to lift my arm to scratch my nose.”

Bruce grins a little, holding Tony’s gaze for a few seconds, and says, “Yeah, you were pretty wrecked.” He sounds amused, but he also sounds a little wrecked by the memory, and Tony would absolutely love to shove Bruce’s pants down around his knees and suck him until he has a really good reason to sound wrecked.

“Just tell me I get to touch you this time, just a little,” Tony rushes out. “It doesn’t even have to be anywhere dirty, just. Knees or even elbows, really, I mean, I’d love to touch you all over, but I could live with elbows.” And it’s sad how Tony really could, if he had to, that he’s so hung up on getting his hands on Bruce that elbows would do.

Bruce gives him that soft, shy smile that hits Tony in the chest at the same time that it hits him in the groin. “I think we could manage at least elbows, Tony,” he says, amused and indulgent, but beneath that is that anticipatory gleam, still, and Tony is dying to know what Bruce is planning that’s making him look like that.

It could be almost anything, Tony barely cares. Anything that makes Bruce look that will be okay with Tony, strip poker, strip chess, strip Animal Planet, Tony is so there.

The elevator dings, and this time Bruce grabs Tony’s elbow to rush him through the living room without even a hint of a pause, though it would be far more characteristic for Bruce to stop and ask Tony if he wants a drink or something. Tony’s cock is totally on board with Bruce’s lack of hosting skills, and he just lets Bruce drag him into the bedroom.

Bruce, in an unprecedented act of dominance, shoves Tony down onto the bed. Tony, wide-eyed, watches Bruce strip down at light speed, and Tony can’t even tear his eyes away for a second to try to get rid of his own clothes. Bruce has no right to be so sexy and so off-limits, Tony can hardly stand it, and has to clench his hands into the bedclothes to keep them from immediately seeking out all the dirty places he said he wouldn’t touch.

Bruce pauses when he sees that Tony is fully dressed, and again makes with the uncharacteristic dominance, bending to jerk off Tony’s shoes and socks, dragging his t-shirt over his head, shoving Tony onto his back to jerk open the button fly of Tony’s jeans and drag them down his legs. Tony, feeling hardly capable of doing anything else, just lies back and pants and lets him, his mind capturing every fingertip that brushes Tony’s skin, every glance of knuckle, every slide of palm, storing them up to consider later, when the present isn’t so entirely engrossing.

Bruce looks at him with dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and Tony would beg Bruce to fuck him dry if he thought it would do any good. Bruce turns and sinks down onto the bed next to Tony, just sitting for a few seconds, and then he leans back on his elbows.

“Just,” he says, quiet, not-quite-certain, “keep it above the belt, okay?”

Tony’s disappointment regarding not getting his hands on Bruce’s cock is practically dwarfed into nonexistence by the amount of skin that he is going to get to touch. He turns over onto his side, and pushes gently at one of Bruce’s elbows. Bruce sighs, but lets them slide out from under him, going flat on the bed.

Tony would touch him anywhere and be happy with that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have priorities. He brushes hair back from Bruce’s shoulder and presses his lips against the tendon in Bruce’s throat, lips slightly parted, just a gentle swipe of tongue, and the sound Bruce makes is amazing, a soft little gasp and a shiver that Tony can feel passing through his whole body. Tony pulls back to look at him, and Bruce is watching him with eyes a little wide, looking oddly helpless.

“Stop me any time, Bruce,” Tony says, responding to that helpless look instinctively. “If it isn’t good, stop me.”

Bruce swallows visibly, but merely nods.

Tony takes him at his word. He shifts up and swings a leg over Bruce’s thighs and strokes both hands through the thick hair on Bruce’s chest, fingertips tingling at the tickling curl of it. He cups Bruce’s collar bones, feeling the hard press and cut of them across his palms, and then bends down to bite gently at them, dragging his teeth lightly along the juts of bone and tucking kisses into the hollow between them. His hands cradle Bruce’s ribs, stroking, and then tight, letting his fingertips drill a little into his flesh.

Bruce breathes heavily, and Tony learns him by the sound of his breathing, light and fast with his hands exploring Bruce’s shoulders, harsh and gulping at Tony’s lips on Bruce’s throat and jaw, hitching when Tony laves his tongue across a nipple, a rough exhale when Tony pinches the other one firmly.

He keeps his hips conscientiously up and away from Bruce’s, but can’t stop himself from licking all the way down his flat stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel briefly, aware that it’s a gray area, ready to retreat, but Bruce lets out a gorgeous little cry and pushes his hands into Tony’s hair, holding him there for several long seconds that Tony uses to nip at the tender skin, and then fuck his tongue into the soft indentation. Bruce moans, throaty and beautiful, but Tony isn’t surprised when Bruce pushes him away.

“I can’t,” Bruce says, sounding a little miserable.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” Tony says lightly. “You promised me elbows.”

Bruce huffs out a little laugh, and lifts one arm, and Tony takes complete advantage by opening his mouth and swirling his tongue around the knob, doing it just like he would if he was sucking cock, and Bruce lets out a harsh exhale and pulls it away quickly.

“Both elbows?” Tony asks, and Bruce huffs out another laugh, shaking his head.

“You abused your elbow privileges,” he says, but he sounds essentially okay again, in that I’m-indulging-Tony’s-ridiculousness way.

“Okay, okay,” Tony agrees. “Just one other thing then?”

“Such as?” Bruce says suspiciously.

And because Tony recognizes that this really is a big deal for Bruce, a matter of real trust, he forgoes any of the assholish ways he could handle it, and just asks.

“Can I kiss you, Bruce?”

Bruce regards him uncertainly for a long time. Tony can see clearly that Bruce wants to, but he can also see that Bruce thinks it might be a bad idea. Finally, he says, “I don’t think so. But if you can be good, I’ll kiss you.” He still looks uncertain, but the want is as clear in his voice as it is in his eyes.

Tony swings his leg back over Bruce and settles onto his back. “You should define ‘good,’” Tony says, hearing his voice come hoarsely. Bruce’s eyelashes flutter a little, like the sound of Tony’s voice like that affects him.

“Just let me lead,” Bruce says, and turns toward him, raising himself up on one elbow. “Just don’t try to take over.”

“Deal,” Tony says, and watches Bruce lean down, feels him cradle Tony’s jaw in one big hand, and lets Bruce brush his warm lips across Tony’s, just a light, dry fleeting instant, and it takes everything Tony has to just lay there and let it happen, so brief he closes his eyes in disappointment, so it’s a surprise when Bruce does it again, a little more firmly this time, and then again, his lips slightly parted, which Tony takes to mean he can part his own lips as well, and it’s good, Bruce’s mouth is soft and hot, and Tony wants so much more, but he’ll take what he can get, he had meant it that first time, when he had said he wanted to have sex with Bruce to whatever extent he was capable of. He will take what he can get, and he won’t take what Bruce tells him he can’t have.

And then all thoughts are pushed back out of his skull when Bruce’s tongue slides into his mouth, hot and soft, his lips nudging Tony’s mouth wider, and Tony might not have done anything at all except Bruce’s tongue strokes along his, and Tony makes a sound that he’ll deny later, and they are kissing, still soft and careful, but mutual. Bruce’s hand on his face slides around the back of Tony’s neck and tugs at him gently so that Tony is arching up into the kiss as much as Bruce is leaning into it. Bruce’s mouth is slick and spicy, and Tony lets himself explore it carefully, aware of the way Bruce is panting a little into the kiss, but trusting that Bruce will retreat if he needs to.

But Bruce doesn’t retreat, he groans into Tony’s mouth once, a low, harsh sound, and then he’s tongue fucking Tony fiercely, fierce and obviously practiced, and Tony would normally retaliate, but just lets it happen instead, licks at Bruce’s tongue, sucks gently at it, but doesn’t let himself forget that he isn’t allowed to take the lead, but all of that aside, it’s killing Tony, he’s so hard he can feel his cock jumping against his belly. Bruce’s mouth is a hungry furnace that Tony would have never have guessed at, rough and a little on the domineering side, and goosebumps prickle over Tony’s skin at the feel, and at the way that Bruce’s hand has gone tight at the back of his neck, holding him still now, rather than just holding. Tony’s hands want to bury themselves in Bruce’s hair and he fists them against his thighs, and it goes on long enough that Tony feels dizzy with it, and only stops when Tony whines into Bruce’s mouth, too desperate to bite the sound back.

Bruce pulls away, and Tony whines again, this time an objection, but Bruce sits up entirely. Tony sees that he’s shaking, and would do almost anything to see Bruce shake apart like that under his hands, but he just sits up next to him, still breathing hard, and rubs a hand across Bruce’s back.

“Too much?” Tony asks. He’ll be disappointed, but he’ll back off, if that’s what Bruce needs.

“Not half as much as I want,” Bruce admits, voice so low as to be guttural. It’s enough to make Tony shudder, the way Bruce sounds, and he leans his shoulder into Bruce’s just for touch-comfort. “Kissing is intimate,” Bruce says after a few seconds. “Being really intimate makes it harder.”

Tony doesn’t ask what ‘it’ is; he’s got a pretty good idea, and he doesn’t think making Bruce talk about the Hulk in bed is a good plan.

“Show me the rest of it, then?” he suggests, and because he can’t quite stand it, he rings his hand around his own cock and gives himself a couple of firm strokes, feeling more than seeing Bruce watching him. “My eyes are up here, Bruce,” he says, amused, and Bruce flushes, but he’s grinning a little when he looks up to meet Tony’s gaze.

More than that, he’s got that anticipatory shine in his eyes, the one that is starting to make Tony want to grovel, and Bruce gets to his knees and hooks his hands under Tony’s arms and drags him around until he’s lying the right way on the bed, headboard behind him.

“Restraints this time,” Bruce says, and before Tony can ask why this time, Bruce is pulling cuffs out from behind the mattress and buckling one around Tony’s wrist.

“Bruce, you kinky motherfucker,” Tony exclaims, delighted, and Bruce gives him a hot, shy look that really does it for Tony, not that everything about Bruce doesn’t really do it for Tony.

Bruce buckles the other cuff around Tony’s totally cooperative wrist, and Tony manages to take several deep breaths to curtail the pounding of his bloody dizzying his brain, before he asks, “Why this time?”

Bruce produces a cockring out of thin air and buckles it around Tony with practiced hands. Tony’s breath sticks in his chest -- all he can think of is the image of Bruce sliding the cockring around his own cock, it’s all in the easy familiarity in his hands -- and then he huffs out a little moan. Bruce is watching him a little avidly, most of that shy exterior gone into hiding. He says, “Because this time I don’t want you to come until I let you.”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks. “Okay, good plan.” He’s dying to know what else, but he’s almost as delighted by the way Bruce keeps pulling party favors out of his hat, and somehow manages not to ask. His cock is a thick bar of iron, his balls already tight, and if it gets any better than this, the cockring is probably a good idea.

He must have said at least some of that out loud, though, because Bruce gives him a weighty look and says, “It gets better than this.”

“Your mild-mannered exterior is a clever ruse,” Tony accuses.

Bruce appears to think about that for a few seconds, head cocked. Then he merely says, “Sometimes,” and slides his hands down Tony’s thighs and calves until he encircles an ankle in each hand, urging his legs up. Tony cooperates, putting his feet flat on the bed and spreading as wide as he can. Bruce just looks at him for a few long seconds, and then licks his lips. Tony’s belly twists with heat. “Arch your hips,” Bruce says, and Tony does, and feels a firm, wedge-shaped pillow pressed up under him.

“I can’t see what you’re doing down there,” Tony half-observes, half-objects, and Bruce settles between Tony’s thighs without bothering to respond.

The small slick thing that Bruce slides into him is less of a mystery, but the speculum is still enough to make Tony’s legs want to fall wider open, cold and strangely shaped and just inexplicably good, and it had been before yesterday, too, but today he knows what’s coming, or sort of knows, and he shudders as Bruce twists it slowly open, and jerks his hips when the stretch of it starts to make his cock jump needfully.

“Shh,” Bruce says, stroking a warm hand along Tony’s inner thigh, apparently unaware that that is not a soothing gesture, that is a gesture designed to make Tony want to twist around so that he can shove his cock against the bed. “You remember what I said yesterday?” Bruce asks, while Tony is still trying to figure out the logistics of rubbing one off against Bruce’s sheets while wearing a cockring.

“Uh,” Tony says blearily -- he remembers Bruce saying lots of things yesterday -- “The, about the…”

“That if I fucked you after I used the stimulator on you, it would be excruciating?” Bruce fills in.

“Yeah,” Tony says, panting a little, and Bruce slides the wand into Tony’s wide open ass, pressing at the stem until it bends enough for Tony to feel the paddle touching him inside, Bruce stroking carefully along with it until he finds Tony’s prostate and Tony groans, even though the wand isn’t even doing anything yet.

Bruce glances up at him and smiles a little. “Excruciating has several connotations,” he says.

Tony’s heart stutters in his chest, which he’s sure can’t be good for him, but can’t really care about considering the implications. “Are you going to fuck me, Bruce?” he asks, breathless and not even trying to hide that he wants it. “Are you going to use that thing in me and then fuck me ‘til it hurts?”

Bruce shudders a little, Tony can see it at the same time that he can feel it through the toy Bruce is holding inside him.

“Almost,” Bruce says, voice a little unsteady. “But it’s definitely time for a safeword, Tony.”

Tony closes his eyes and breathes heavily, his cock aching and his ass clenching around the speculum. “Usually I’d come up with something clever,” he pants out finally, “but I got nothing. Green, yellow, red?”

Bruce is smiling a little shyly at Tony when he opens his eyes. “Sure,” Bruce says. “Whatever you want.”

“I wish you meant that,” Tony says fervently, without a thought to how it would sound.

“I mean it as much as I can,” Bruce says quietly. “But we can stop if…”

“If you stop, I will kill you with my feet,” Tony threatens. “That’s not what I meant, Bruce. I want to do this, however you can do it. I want it.”

Bruce looks at him gravely. “I hope you mean that,” he says, but before Tony can do anything to reassure, Bruce twists the wand around a little and snaps it into vibration, so that all Tony manages to say is,

“Oh my fucking God, Bruce, yes!” even as his hips are twisting to try for some friction. Bruce slides a hand up and pins Tony down by one hip, his hand big and warm and even better than the wrist restraints. Tony throws his head back and lets out a hoarse little cry, and he’s been ready for so long, is so desperately hard, that he feels himself clench almost at once, the speculum biting a little into the tender skin of his hole, his cock jerking against his belly, and it’s good, it feels so good but he can’t quite get there, and he barks out a sound of need and frustration as his body strains for an orgasm he can’t have.

The vibration stops and Tony goes limp and panting, tugging at the wrist cuffs just for something to pull against.

“Shh, don’t,” Bruce murmurs. “Tip your face down so I can see you,” he coaxes, and Tony blinks sweat out of his eyes, but does it. “That’s good, you look amazing,” Bruce murmurs hotly, and then tips down out of Tony’s line of vision which Tony doesn’t understand, if Bruce wants to see, why…? And then Bruce’s tongue is slick and hot against the tight weight of Tony’s balls, and Tony groans helplessly, would just because it’s Bruce, except it’s not just that, Bruce is good at it, tongue curling and pressing, mouth closing around the base of his sack where the leather of the cockring sits and sucking hard enough to make Tony tense and moan.

Bruce draws back ten thousand years before Tony is ready, and Tony begs, “Bruce, Bruce,” and Bruce tucks his face into the crease of Tony’s thigh -- Tony’s knees fall completely open -- and licks at the skin there for a few seconds, light and shivering, and then bites down so hard that Tony jerks and shouts out something encouraging but mostly intelligible. Bruce pulls back, looking at the bite, his eyes dark and gleaming, and then touches it softly with two fingertips, pressing against the new bruise. A moment later, he rakes his fingertips down the inside of the same thigh, sharp and hard, and Tony knows he will be able to look at the welts later, which brings him all the way back around to desperate.

Bruce meets Tony’s gaze -- and Tony is aware that he looks shocked and lust-dazed -- for an instant, and says, “Keep looking at me, Tony,” but again gives Tony no chance to respond, just clicks the wand on again, skipping entirely past the vibration to the current. Tony seizes up with pleasure, his back arching even as he forces himself to keep his face up, and his hips stutter helplessly, up into the sensation and then down away, except Bruce just moves with them. Tony’s whole body is flooded with confused endorphins, which he likes, he’s always liked, but which he can barely stand while he’s so helpless and his cock is removed from the equation. He can hear himself whining out a sound that’s staggered with the hoarse little breaths he’s dragging in, and his balls are an unbearable ache between his thighs.

Bruce says, “If I could fuck you just once, Tony, if I could fuck you one time, it would be worth it, it would all be… You look so good all spread out for me, I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t ever forget it,” and Tony’s body goes taut again, his cock a bitter clench in the tight leather of the cockring, his teeth grinding at it, and he can almost, it’s almost enough, Bruce just talking about what he wants is a painful tangle of need between his hipbones, but he can’t, he can’t, and his eyes are tearing with the effort and he can see Bruce watching, his mouth a little open, his eyes almost glazed, and Tony thinks he might have to yellow out, it’s so impossibly intense, but then Bruce clicks it off and draws it out of Tony in one quick motion.

“Bruce,” Tony begs, and he doesn’t even care what he’s begging for, he knows, he understands that Bruce doesn’t think he can fuck him no matter how much Tony wants it, but he begs anyway, for whatever it is Bruce can do, and he wants so much, he’s so helplessly, desperately needy, that he can’t bring himself to care what it will actually be.

Bruce’s hands are working on the speculum, but he doesn’t wait for it to be all the way closed before he tugs it quickly out of Tony’s hole. Tony hears the snap of a bottle of lube, and then Bruce is pressing fingers into Tony, two at once, and Tony can take it, usually he could, he can, but Bruce’s fingers slide along Tony’s prostate and Tony shrieks and convulses upward, his bound hands pulling against Bruce’s headboard so hard that the wood creaks in protest.

“Shh,” Bruce says. “Just lay back and take it,” and Tony gasps out a moan, and Bruce’s fingers are working him open, but not touching his prostate again, and he manages to relax back and let Bruce finger him open, his ass clenching needily around Bruce’s long fingers. “Good, just a little more, just take a little more,” and Tony takes huge, heaving breaths, his cock an enormous brand of pleasure and agony. Bruce slips another finger inside him, a little burn this time, enough to make Tony groan, but the three of them together are too wide to miss his oversensitive prostate, they glance against it when Bruce twists his wrist, and Tony shouts through clenched teeth, but his cock is jerking and he can’t tell, he honestly doesn’t know if it’s good or not.

Bruce’s fingers slide out of Tony abruptly, and Tony groans at the loss, and Bruce is saying, “They do latex molds, if you know who to ask, and I needed something familiar to use, something to trick myself into thinking I was only taking what I already had. I don’t think it would matter, now, but I was so out of control then, and even if it wouldn’t have mattered, I’m glad I had it made so I have it for you now.” It comes out all in a rush, and Tony is so sex dazed that it doesn’t even make sense for a second, and then Bruce is pressing something cool and firm up against his asshole and Tony gets it.

“You fuck yourself with that, Bruce? With your own cock?” he asks hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Bruce says softly. “When I can.”

“You’re so fucking unbelievably kinky, I will never ever believe you’re mild-mannered or unassuming again, those are filthy filthy falsehoods,” Tony breathes out appreciatively, and Bruce chuckles.

“You say that now,” Bruce says, and shoves the thick, cool shaft into Tony’s ass, and he’s not tentative at all, he pushes until it all goes in, and Tony groans at the size, and then whines when Bruce pulls it back, and then, on the second stroke, the dildo scrapes immediately along Tony’s prostate and Tony lets out a surprised shriek of sound that unnerves even him.

Bruce stops at once. “Tony?” he asks.

“Again,” Tony orders breathlessly, because he still doesn’t know, can’t tell, and Bruce takes him at his word, pressing forward again, and Tony feels like he’s being skinned inside, the wide hard length of Bruce’s dildo sending an infinity of signals of pleasure and pain to Tony’s brain and his cock and his balls, and when Bruce starts to drag it out, it’s like being turned inside out. Tony cries out another sound that could mean anything, even he doesn’t know what it means, and his whole skin feels like it’s prickling all over, like tiny needles are barely dancing across his flesh, and Bruce shoves it back in, a little faster this time, and it hits Tony in waves, not pleasure or pain, but some hybrid sensation that he thinks he will never be able to explain, and he hears himself almost wailing at the feel of it.

“Just as much as you can,” Bruce says, his voice harsh. “You only have to take as much as you can for me, Tony, you can stop it any time.”

But Tony doesn’t want to stop it; Tony’s whole body jolts with lust, his cock is jerking and if it hadn’t been for the cockring, he knows he would have come already. All he seems to be able to do is let loose helpless need sounds as Bruce shoves the dildo into Tony again, harder, so that the waves of sensation rock Tony into a staggering sort of rhythm/reassurance. “Don’t stop, it… I can’t, it hurts, Bruce, I want,” Tony begs nonsensically, but Bruce seems to understand enough. He shoves it into him really hard, and Tony yells out his need.

Bruce doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate, just rams the dildo in a fast, hard rhythm into Tony, and Tony’s whole body shakes like he’s coming apart. He is overheated and overstimulated and he wants more, he wants harder, and he clenches his bound hands and tries to rock up into it, and thank God, Bruce says, “I can go harder,” and Tony nods frantically even as tears escape his eyes and he is in an ecstasy of agony.

Bruce’s hand on Tony’s belly is keeping him still and steady within what may be the most profound sexual experience of Tony’s entire life, and it’s terrible and fantastic. Bruce never seems to get tired, and eventually Tony needs, he can’t wait, he thinks he might have been able to if it had really been Bruce’s cock, but he can’t, and he hears himself, begging and needful, “Please, hard and make me come, the ring, I can’t and I need to, it hurts and I need to, please, don’t stop, I love it, I want it, but I need to come, let me, Bruce, please, Bruce,” and he might have gone on for some time longer except that the tightness around his cock and balls loosens and he screams so hard his vision flashes white for a moment, and he comes and comes, the dildo still rough in his ass, and he feels it everywhere and it’s intoxicating, wondrous, and he understands exactly what Bruce had meant by the word ‘excruciating,’ but for now it doesn’t matter, it just is, until Tony is finally whimpering and trembling, Bruce’s dildo still jolting him, but only for another long moment, while Bruce brings him down, and Tony is absolutely wiped out, his muscles like dough, his skin still prickling and tingling, his arousal still a low whine in the back of his mind and at the base of his spine and tickling at his cock and balls.

He whimpers a little as Bruce pulls the dildo free, and can feel himself still shaking, and he’s fucking exhausted, sweat is drying on his skin like a cool breeze, and he’s sure he’s fucked out, despite the low buzz of arousal still circulating in his system. Then Bruce shoves one of Tony’s knees out of the way and dips down, his face set into a little snarl, and licks up the base of Tony’s cock. Just seeing it is so hot that Tony rasps out a wanting sound, not to mention the hot, slick scrape of Bruce’s tongue against his insanely sensitive cock, and then Tony sucks in a sharp breath, making no sound at all, as Bruce’s tongue slides through the puddle of come on his belly, dips into his belly button as if seeking, and pursues the streaks of it up Tony’s belly to the lowest curve of the arc reactor, and he, Bruce just licks it away, just like it was part of Tony’s skin, like it isn’t any different at all, and Tony’s cock starts to fill painfully at the image.

Bruce pauses and looks at him, searching his face, and says, “I want to come on you.”

Tony nods dumbly, still too shocked at the sight of Bruce’s tongue lapping against the arc reactor to speak.

“It can take a little while,” Bruce says, still searching Tony’s face for something.

“Take as long as you want,” Tony finally manages to get out, and Bruce relaxes a little, and pulls the pillow wedge out from under Tony’s ass, pushing at Tony’s knee until he straightens it. Tony doesn’t know why he keeps being surprised, but he is anyway when Bruce swings a leg over Tony’s hips and settles back with his ass pressed against Tony’s half-hard cock. It has to be deliberate, it’s right there on Bruce’s face, the way he lets out a harsh little breath as he settles there. He leans forward a little and wraps his hand around his cock, his gorgeous, gorgeous cock, which is now deeply red and wet at the tip, and which Tony would do anything to get his hands on, and draws his hand up the shaft in a long, steady strokes. Tony watches the head disappear into Bruce’s fist, and then emerge again as Bruce pulls his hand back, and then again, and again, until Tony realizes it isn’t going to get any faster than this, that this is the best Bruce can do for himself while Tony’s cock is pressed against his ass and his eyes are devouring Tony’s face.

Maybe if he were alone, it would be different, but despite the fact that he’s only jerking off on Tony, he gets it, he understands that this is different than doing it solo would be, this is… is intimate, and that makes it harder for Bruce to keep it together.

If it had been anyone else, or if someone had just told him he was ever going to do this, Tony would have been certain he’d get bored, he wouldn’t be able to sit still and pay attention, he has the attention span of a magpie, but he would have been wrong, wrong, wrong, because Bruce is gorgeous. Sweat beads at his temples, the muscles in his forearm bunch and flex, and his knuckles are as white as bleached bone. His whole body moves into it after the first minute, his hips rocking just a fraction, his back arching, and Tony can feel the taut flex of Bruce’s buttocks barely touching Tony’s now fully erect cock.

Another minute in, and Bruce is pushing into his fist, his hand still moving, but less now, his body doing more of the work, and his fingers are slick with his own precome, but the hand he’s jerking off with is dry, Tony can hear the harsh pull of skin on skin, and he has no idea if Bruce likes it that way (God, the idea that he might makes Tony feel a little faint), or if needs it that way to stay in control. Bruce’s chest flexes and his belly goes taut, and he makes a whispery sound that could be construed as a moan, and he never takes his eyes off of Tony.

Eventually, Bruce is merely working his cock through his closed fist, his hips flexing rhythmically, the dark red of his cock looking even darker, as if it might be chafing. His whole body is in clenching, flexing motion, as if he’s making up for lack of speed by filling the act with sensation in every muscle. Tony can feel his thighs flexing around his hips, and Bruce’s ass is not quite settled firmly along Tony’s cock, but it’s close, and Tony wants to arch up against Bruce so badly it’s like being on fire, and doesn’t do it by some miracle that he can’t even identify.

Bruce huffs out a short, quick breath, and Tony can’t keep his mouth shut anymore. “Bruce,” he whispers, and has to lick his dry lips. Bruce’s gaze hooks on Tony’s mouth and he looks almost like he’s in pain, but he’s shuddering now, and it may be in some kind of twisted slow-motion, but Tony knows what an approaching orgasm looks like. “Bruce, do it,” Tony murmurs, and Bruce’s face folds into a grimace for an instant, his whole body goes taut and hard, and then his face goes soft as he pumps his cock, the head pressed against Tony’s belly, his come spurting hard enough that Tony can feel the slight tickle of each pulse against his skin. “Oh my God, Bruce,” Tony says, reverent, his own cock jerking in sympathy, but for once Tony isn’t worried about his own cock. “Bruce, how you look when you come, Bruce, God.”

Bruce blinks at Tony, his face dazed, and then flushes faintly, that half-shy smile peeking out to torture Tony.

“You’re some gorgeous mix of brainy, and adorable, and sexy,” Tony says, his brain to mouth filter entirely offline. “I spend half my time thinking up things I want to do to you.”

Bruce blushes full on, and says, “It’s pretty much mutual, if you substitute sarcastic for adorable,” he says.

“I am incredibly fucking adorable!” Tony objects.

“My mistake,” Bruce says, one side of his mouth quirked upward. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks, derailing the list of adorable qualities that Tony has in abundance that Tony is making.

“You don’t ever have to ask me that,” Tony says.

Bruce’s shy, half-smile appears, and Tony wants to lick it desperately. Instead he watches Bruce lean in, all his movements languid now, relaxed and easy, and Tony opens his mouth right off the bat, and apparently that’s okay because Bruce sucks on his lower lip and nips at his tongue, all at that same leisurely pace, taking his time, exploratory and hot and so, so easy. Tony feels his hands come free sometime while they’re doing this, and only hazily thinks about Bruce’s ability to multi-task to be impressed by it.

When Bruce pulls back, his expression is as relaxed as Tony has ever seen it. “I can take care of that for you,” he says, gesturing at Tony’s hard on.

Tony can think of at least fourteen hundred and twelve ways he’d like Bruce to take care of it for him, but hears himself say, with real surprise, “This is, I mean, could I be more cliche and this is the least romantic thing in the universe, but if I could just, if you’d just be okay with laying back and letting me come on your face, Bruce, I’d really…”

Bruce laughs, interrupting him. “Would it be better if I was on my knees?”

Tony’s breath hangs up in his throat for a second. “That would be… yeah,” he manages to croak.

Bruce eels his way off of Tony and onto the floor and settles back onto his heels, his expression expectant. He looks totally calm and collected, except he’s still blushing faintly, and Tony thinks that sweet flush might be enough to kill him some day.

Tony drags himself upright, swinging one foot down off the bed and leaving the other tucked under his ass. “If I grab your hair…?”

“I wish you would,” Bruce says, blush a little darker, tiny shy smile peeking out, and Tony loses all semblance of restraint.

He scoots to the very edge of the bed and buries his left hand in Bruce’s unruly, slight sweat damp curls and pulls him forward, so that he’s leaning into Tony’s space, and takes his cock in his other hand. He has absolutely no chance of putting on the kind of show that Bruce had given him, though he’d like to try some day (if just, if just, because Bruce clearly doesn’t know it’s a show, doesn’t realize it’s hot, not inconvenient), and the root of his belly is already twisted up all sharp and hot and demanding. He points his cock in the direction of Bruce’s face -- Bruce’s eyes are all dark pupil, hot enough to make Tony’s whole body throb with want -- and gives an exploratory stroke.

His cock is close enough to almost brush Bruce’s lip, and that’s another clench of desire, and then he’s just jerking off, not fast, but he still knows he isn’t going to last. His mouth escapes his control, of course, and he murmurs, “You don’t know, I can tell, you have no idea how hot you are, how hot you make me, so hot that it doesn’t matter what I can’t have, just that you’ll let me take what I can, that touching you is like holding sculpture in my hands, and having you touch me is like your hands have a constant low-grade current in them, not enough to hurt, just enough to make everything feel more, and watching you jerk off was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, your whole body, and your face when you came, Bruce, seeing it was, God, I want to see you do it every day, and the idea that you’re going to let me come on your face after that, it’s, it’s like having permission to dirty up something pristine, and like marking you up, and I…” Tony’s fist is flying furiously along the skin of his cock, and Bruce’s eyes are even darker, dazed and a little amazed, and Tony isn’t sure he knows it, but Bruce’s mouth has dropped open slightly, and the idea that he’s going to get at least a little come into Bruce’s mouth is enough to make his back arch hard and his balls clench. He pulls Bruce’s hair, tugs at it just to change the angle, not because it needs changing but because he can see that Bruce likes it, the flutter of his lashes, the way he’s panting a little now.

“Just stay right there,” Tony husks out, hand tight in Bruce’s hair, and then his balls twist and his thighs shudder and he’s pumping come across Bruce’s cheeks and lips and chin, droplets flying as high as his hairline. Bruce licks his lips, does it deliberately, and Tony groans at the sight, still milking his cock, which is just seeping over the backs of his knuckles now. He doesn’t think when he raises then, smears a line of come down Bruce’s cheek and then slides his slick knuckles along Bruce’s lips again. Bruce licks away the slickness and then bends to catch Tony’s hand, tongue sliding across his knuckles and between his fingers, while Tony makes a constant, low and grating noise that he can’t control.

Bruce lets go of his hand and looks back up at Tony. “Good?” he asks.

“God, so good,” Tony gasps without any attempt at showmanship.

Bruce gives him a solemn look. “You know this is dangerous,” he says. Tony nods, because he does know, and he doesn’t care. “I don’t want to stop,” Bruce says, an admission, and Tony sighs out in relief.

“Thank God,” he says, and tugs at Bruce’s hair. “Thank God, Bruce. I think I might die if you wanted to stop.”

Bruce leans up and kisses Tony again, slow and easy; Tony can taste his come on Bruce’s lips and shudders into the kiss. “We’ll work it out,” he hears himself whisper against Bruce’s lips. “We’ll work it out.”

Chapter Text

Tony is sitting in his workshop, pretending to be working, while he thinks about Bruce Banner, about all that he knows about Bruce, both physically and psychologically, trying to take his working knowledge and fashion it into something he can use.

Psychology isn’t Tony’s best skill, but Bruce’s issues are so omnipresent that he doesn’t feel like it needs to be. It would be great if he were better -- he might have even read up a little -- or at least better enough to find a miracle solution to Bruce’s split psyche, but even if he was, he isn’t sure Bruce would let him try out things to see what could work.

Tony is aware that this knowledge isn’t going to stop him from trying, but it is going to make him go about it with the kind of delicacy that most people believe he isn’t capable of.

He wants to wreck Bruce, take him apart with his bare hands and leave him a shivering mess, but he doesn’t want to wreck Bruce. Not in his head, where all his need lives. He just wants a little access to that need. Just enough to feel like he isn’t the only one getting anything out of this, whatever this is.

Not that he thinks that, not quite. Maybe the first time, but the second time… Bruce had definitely gotten something out of that. Not as much as Tony would have liked to have given, but maybe as much as Bruce had felt he could take.

And Tony is still okay with that. He’s still on board with doing whatever Bruce can take and nothing else.

He just… well, he’d just like to be the author of what Bruce takes, and not just the object. Not that he feels objectified. Bruce’s face while he’d jerked off with agonizing slowness had been transparent. Bruce definitely doesn’t see Tony as an object.

Still, Tony wants to be the one to keep Bruce still and calm while he works Bruce over, wants his hands and his mouth on Bruce, but wants to do it so that Bruce can take it.

Which is why he’s sorting through what he understands about what drives Bruce instead of working on any one of a dozen projects that require his undivided attention. At the moment, Tony doesn’t have the undivided attention to give to anything except Bruce.

Eventually he gets up and makes his way to the penthouse, where he locates a battered trunk that he doesn’t usually make much use of lurking in the back of one of his three closets. He snaps the trunk open, letting his eyes just kind of rove over the contents for a few minutes.

It’s not that Tony isn’t kinky. He’s great with being kinky. He’s great with not being kinky, too. He loves sex in all aspects. He doesn’t have a big selection of kinky things because if he ever needs those things, most people will let you know ahead of time, and he can always take a trip to a toy store. He doesn’t keep much of it after, because 1) It’s easier to throw a toy away than to remember to sanitize it, and 2) generally, taking a partner into a sex shop and telling them to go wild is a good part of the experience, for them and for him.

Not much of this stuff is likely to work for Bruce, though, Tony thinks. He suspects bondage is a definite no for the Hulk, even though he thinks that left to his own devices, Bruce would like it just fine. He has a few candles, but he thinks pain, even light pain, would make things harder for Bruce. He takes out and fondles a blindfold for a minute, and thoughtfully folds it and sticks it into his back pocket. He’s by no means sure. But if part of the problem is intimacy… well, a blindfold might help make things seem a little more anonymous.

In the end, he pockets a cock ring and a handful of silky scarves, too, because he knows Bruce, he knows, at least a little, how things work in his head, and being a theoretical scientist means the theoretical method can be utilized in different ways.

It could work, if Tony can manage to present it in such a way that Bruce can believe it might work.

And there had been something about the slow, methodical way that Bruce had worked his cock last time that Tony thinks he can at least emulate, if not recreate.

And if it doesn’t work, Bruce will let him know. Tony is confident about it; Bruce hasn’t been at all hesitant about letting Tony know how far is too far. So if that happens, Tony will willingly back off and let Bruce do something that does work for him, whatever that is.

But he thinks it could work. If Bruce trusts him only a little, Tony thinks it could work. He’s staring a little blankly into the box when his eyes skate across a case, a little dusty from disuse, but which makes his blood spike abruptly. He hasn’t used the contents in a while, but he remembers how it feels, the slow build pleasure of it, and he thinks it might be exactly the kind of thing Bruce could handle.

He takes it out and sets it on the bedside table -- he’ll want to talk to Bruce about it first, and there’s no point to carrying them around -- and then picks it up and dusts it off with a random sock on the floor before he puts it back.

“JARVIS, where is Bruce?” Tony asks, because he’s not in the mood to traipse all over the tower looking for him with a blindfold burning a hole in his pocket.

“Doctor Banner is on the roof, sir,” JARVIS says. “Shall I tell him you’ll be joining him?”

“Nah, I’ll surprise him,” Tony says easily. “That way he can’t run away.”

“Your logic is exemplary, as always, sir,” JARVIS says.

“And your flattery is just as sincere as usual,” Tony says easily, grinning.

“I am a product of my programming, sir,” JARVIS sasses back.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a line of code for ‘snide,’ JARVIS,” Tony says. “Maybe I should make you a laughter circuit.”

“I’d prefer that you didn’t, sir,” JARVIS says.

“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t get a kick out of laughing your ass off at some of the stupid shit I do, figuratively speaking, of course,” Tony says.

“What makes you think I don’t already, sir?” JARVIS asks mildly.

“What a bitchy, bitchy machine you are, JARVIS,” Tony says sadly. “Maybe I’ll program your laugh to sound like the tinkling of tiny bells. It’s hard to be snide when you’re tinkling.”

“I’m sure you would know better than I, sir,” JARVIS says, and Tony cracks up.

“Fine, but I’m holding this threat over your head forever,” Tony chuckles.

“Yes, sir, that was assumed,” JARVIS says, and Tony stops playing with his AI and sets off toward the roof.

Bruce is leaning against the railing, elbows bent.

“I never thought the tower was ugly,” he says. “A monument to your ego, probably, but not actually ugly. But even if it was a bleeding eyesore, it’s totally worth it for this view.”

Tony grins. “My tower transcends the ability of the masses to recognize it as the true work of art that it really is,” he says. He joins Bruce at the railing. “But you’re right, the view certainly doesn’t hurt. You like, huh? I thought the New York skyline wasn’t really your style. Unpopulated mountain ranges, maybe. Even some kind of jungle-scape.”

“What I like and what I can have are usually two different things,” Bruce says, his tone wry, but also slightly bitter.

The wind is pretty gusty up this high, but the temperature is only a little cool.

“It’s a good thing in this case that you can have what you like,” Tony says.

Bruce glances over at him for a long moment.

“What are you doing up here, anyway?” Tony asks.

“Just thinking,” Bruce says. “Sometimes I get a little claustrophobic, need to see the sky.” Bruce glances over at him again, this time for a little while longer. “What are you doing up here?”

“Looking for you,” Tony says honestly.

Bruce is silent for a long time. There’s a loaded quality to it, though, as if Bruce has something to say, so Tony rides it out, even though silent waiting has never been one of his skill sets.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing, Tony,” Bruce says finally. “But I think the smart thing to do would be to stop doing it.”

Even though Tony had been at least half-expecting something along those lines, his chest tightens anyway. “Is that what you want, Bruce?” he asks carefully.

Bruce tips his face down as if trying to make out the ground dozens of stories beneath them.

“I don’t every time get what I want,” he says, low and tight. “There’s no reason to drag you down with me.”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling especially dragged over here,” Tony says dryly.

“You will,” Bruce says. “When I can’t be what you need, you will.”

“And you get to decide what I need, now?” Tony asks, keeping his tone deliberately conversational.

Bruce turns to face him. “No, of course not,” he says earnestly. “But, Tony, there’s so much I can’t give you.” Bruce’s face is a little crumpled with misery. Tony would like to be able to physically comfort him somehow, but that’s one of the things he never quite learned to do.

“Is what we’re doing not doing it for you?” Tony asks. He’s fairly sure he knows the answer to the question, but finds himself holding his breath anyway.

“You know it is,” Bruce says softly, with a hint of a blush.

Tony exhales slowly. “Then I don’t see the problem, here, Bruce. It’s doing it for you and it’s doing it for me, so why would we stop?”

“What I can do for you is… limited,” Bruce sighs. “I’m never going to be able to fuck you, Tony.”

“You fucked me last night, Bruce,” Tony says. “It was probably the best orgasm of my life.”

Bruce smiles shyly, and Tony wants to touch him, drag him up against Tony’s body so that he can feel Tony’s cock, which is already mostly hard just from being in Bruce’s vicinity.

“You know what I mean, though,” Bruce says, head a little cocked. “It’s never really going to be me inside you. You’ll probably never be able to fuck me, either. Tony, I can barely kiss you without losing it. Just you touching me like you did took all my control. And I could really hurt you. If it was just that I couldn’t do those things, it would be something I could accept. But the truth is, anything we do together is potentially dangerous. I could just have a bad day, Tony. I could just lose control for a second.”

“You said to me just last night that you didn’t want to stop doing it, Bruce,” Tony reminds him. “Have you really changed your mind, or do you just think you should?”

Bruce gives him a helpless look.

Tony nods and digs in his back pocket for the blindfold. He shows it to Bruce, who only looks at it for a long moment before his mind catches hold of the idea and his eyes widen a little.

“It might not matter,” he says, but there’s an edge to his voice that makes Tony think that Bruce thinks that it might matter a lot.

“I don’t think it can hurt to try,” Tony says, but keeps his tone casual. Bruce’s chuckle is laced with a bitter edge, but there is some real humor in it as well, so Tony will take it.

“You have something in mind?” Bruce asks, glancing sideways at Tony, and there is that soft blush that Tony can’t help equating with Bruce and sex now, which firms him up in his jeans, or firms him up a little more; he’d already been mostly hard just from proximity to Bruce and all of Bruce’s incredibly sexy parts.

“I have things I want to try,” Tony says. “At least one thing I want to show you, maybe on myself first, if you’ve never done it before, but which I think will work for you. And if things don’t work out how I want, Bruce, I’m not going to be disappointed. If all I get to do is jerk off on your cock while you jerk off, that is still incredibly, scorchingly hot for me.”

“What do you want to try?” Bruce asks.

“I want to try to suck you,” Tony says seriously. “I know all the reasons why it might go wrong, but I watched, last night. I get how careful I’d have to be. Learning by watching is one of my best skills, Bruce. And I brought this, just in case.” Tony produces the cock ring. “If we need to dial it down, sensation wise, we can use a condom. But I think I can do it.”

Bruce visibly swallows. “What’s your plan?” he asks.

Tony says, “Why don’t you sit in one of the loungers. I don’t see any reason why we can’t do this out here.”

“Any reason other than sight lines from other buildings and the occasional press helicopter?” Bruce asks, but he’s got his ‘humoring Tony’ voice back in place, which is light years better than some of the other options so far today, and besides, Tony can tell it’s not a no.

“Exhibition kink?” Tony asks, genuinely curious.

“Not so much a kink as a resignation,” Bruce says, smirking wryly. “I’m always naked when I change back, so it’s pointless to worry on that score. My bare ass is already old news. You will have your face in my lap, so they may suspect if they fly over, but probably can’t prove. And you wouldn’t care anyway. And if they get my face, half of it will be covered in a blindfold. ‘Blindfolded mystery man gets B.J. on roof of Stark Tower,’ is just not a headline I can make myself worry about.”

Tony throws his head back and laughs, because Bruce is in no way wrong, and because Bruce being able to be amused by the idea is a promising sound, and because it would really be a funny headline; Tony kind of has to resist the urge to make a call.

Bruce settles into one of obscenely comfortable loungers, watching Tony with expectation, and Tony comes to crouch next to him. “Just checking,” Tony says, “but my guess is that bondage isn’t something you can do.”

Bruce flushes faintly, and shakes his head. “Which is a shame,” he admits. “It used to be something I liked to do.” His blush deepens, and Tony has to shift or his dick is going to break off where it’s wedged in his jeans.

Tony nods. “But you work in theory as much as I do, so I think we can deal with that if you can manage a little bit of a mental shift.” He tugs the scarves out of his pocket, both light and filmy, something either of them could probably tear without any kind of superhuman strength. Bruce looks at them thoughtfully. Tony swirls one into a super lightweight rope and ties it around Bruce’s wrist, not to anything, but just around it, like a bracelet. When Bruce doesn’t object, he does the same with the other.

Bruce considers them, his face going a little soft, a lot like he looks in the lab when he’s trying to hang ideas together. “Okay,” he says finally. “I think I can handle this. Where do you want them?”

“Behind your head okay?” Tony asks, and Bruce shifts them up and tucks them behind his head. “Unless you have to stop me, that’s where they stay,” Tony says. “Consider yourself restrained.”

Bruce nods slowly; he’s flushing again, and his eyes are wide and dark.

Tony unbuttons Bruce’s shirt, just because he can, and he’ll always want to see as much of Bruce as he gets the chance to as often as he gets the chance to.

“Arch your hips,” Tony says, and Bruce does, while Tony unbuttons and unzips his jeans and drags them down below the knee. While he’s down there, the uses the lever on the lounger to change the angle, putting Bruce’s feet down almost to the ground, raising his hips and back up just a little.

Bruce is half hard and still as gorgeous as ever.

Tony glances up at him, and sees a little worry leeching into his face.

“I’m having trouble looking at you there,” he says, a little tense, but not like he is genuinely afraid.

Tony gets to his feet and smooths out the blindfold. It’s high quality, dense, lined to keep even light blocked out almost completely. Tony never would have bothered keeping if it hadn’t been something he considered superior to what he might be able to find at a later date. He says, “Tip your head,” which Bruce does, and Tony tugs the blindfold down, buckling it tight in the back -- another thing Tony had liked, sturdy adjustable buckle, not an elastic band -- and then adjusting it carefully down over Bruce’s eyes.

For a moment, Bruce’s body is a line of tension, and then it eases, not all at once, but a gradual descent into something loose limbed and a little mesmerising, just because Bruce and loose limbed don’t often go together. His cock is more than two-thirds of the way hard now, and his breathing has gone quick.

“I could be anyone,” Tony says, keeping his tone as neutral as he can get it. “This isn’t about you and me Bruce. It’s about your dick and somebodies mouth.”

Bruce shivers a little, full body. “Give me a minute,” he murmurs. “I have to… subtract you.”

Tony understands, and isn’t bothered by it. This had been his idea, and he thinks if it works out, it may happen a few more times, but that Bruce will get to a point where he doesn’t have to subtract Tony. Just like he thinks that Bruce had had a latex mold of his own cock made to fool his psyche into thinking it wasn’t anything that wasn’t there already, but even Bruce had said he didn’t think it would matter now, which means Tony might actually get to fuck Bruce at some point. It might have to be like this, with Tony subtracted, but he can live like that for a while, or forever, if he has to.

“The cock ring,” Bruce finally says.

Tony tugs it out of his front pocket and slides it around Bruce’s cock and balls, snapping it in place.

“Condom?” Tony asks, though he’d rather not, wants the heat and width and taste of Bruce with a desire that is almost brutal, but he will.

“Try without,” Bruce says, his voice throaty. “I may need it, but I want it without.”

Tony allows himself to be quietly thrilled.

“Spread your legs,” Tony says, still keeping his voice steady and neutral, more to help feed Bruce’s headspace than because Tony actually feels steady or neutral. He actually feels like clapping his hands in glee and maybe whispering filthy things about how Bruce looks like this.

Bruce spreads his legs as much as he can with his jeans bunched around his calves, but it’s enough. The loungers don’t have arms, or there’s no way there would be enough room to do this, but Tony merely curls himself to his knees at Bruce’s feet and slides his hands under Bruce’s ass. Bruce’s breath catches, but he cooperates when Tony pulls him a little forward, his hands still folded behind his head.

Bruce’s cock is all the way hard now, jerking a little where it’s hanging, not pressed against his stomach at this angle, but also not down between his thighs. It’s up at an angle, which is just about perfect as far as Tony is concerned. Bruce smells as great as he always does, clean skin and whatever semi-spicy shampoo he uses, but musky between his thighs, the scent deeply masculine.

Tony has thought about it a lot, and as much as he’d love to explore Bruce with his tongue, he remembers how Bruce had jerked himself off, no real build up, and had decided it would be best not to do anything that might feel like a tease. He ducks his head down, taking the head of Bruce’s cock into his mouth, mostly to get a measure of him, a gauge for what Tony can do and how long. Bruce is maybe a little more than average, thickness-wise, but he’s long. Tony isn’t sure he can take him all at this angle, but he doesn’t think that matters. His mouth is already watering, but he catches the base of Bruce’s cock in his hand, changes the angle just a little, and slowly works the rest of Bruce’s cock into his mouth.

Bruce shudders out a little groan, but doesn’t try to arch into it; Tony hadn’t thought he would. This is Bruce allowing himself to be done to, something almost not cooperative at all, and he doubts he has to worry about Bruce moving much at all until maybe the end. Tony sucks gently, lets his tongue rove slowly along the shaft and then around the head, every movement a slow drag, a careful amount of pressure. When he pulls off, it’s in increments, and when he slides back down, it’s the same, pleasure-pressure, but not anything urgent.

He’ll be stiff after this, he’s not twenty anymore, but having Bruce in his mouth is so worth it Tony can’t even pretend to care. On his next downstroke, he tugs his hand up gently to meet his lips, and Bruce makes a deep, hoarse sound.

It isn’t even hard to take his time. Tony’s had a few experiences with cock worship, and while none of them had been at this careful pace, he knows how to keep it slow and wet, how to make the pleasure into the slow rise of a gentle tide, and the longer he gets to spend with Bruce’s cock pressing his jaws open, the hotter Tony gets. His jaw starts to ache, but that’s a sensation he knows and likes. He slides his teeth along Bruce’s shaft, barely any pressure, and Bruce’s hips twitch the slightest bit.

He tips Bruce’s cock downward a little with two fingers and arranges his own body into an awkward crouch he won’t be able to maintain for long, and goes down as far as he can, almost all the way, tongue slowly exerting pressure against the big vein in the underside of Bruce’s cock; Bruce moans aloud, but it’s long, not sharp, and Tony manages to stay up in the crouch for at least two minutes, long enough to suck hard as he moves his mouth up and down the shaft of his cock, just as slowly as Bruce’s hand had worked himself with, until Bruce is breathing hard, thighs flexing a little. When he has to go back down or fall over, Tony slides one hand under Bruce’s balls, cupping and careful, only a little pressure, and curls the other around the base of Bruce’s cock again, wet with spit, using his hand and his mouth together.

Bruce’s precome on his tongue is bitter and amazing, and Tony uses his fist on the whole length of Bruce for a few seconds, hand tight but not demanding, just so he can suck greedily at the head for more of that taste.

“Take the ring off,” Bruce says hoarsely, and Tony does, carefully and slowly, using both hands. More precome immediately leaks from the slit of Bruce’s cock, and Tony can’t quite stop a groan from escaping him.

Bruce is breathing hard, his thighs clenching and his hips barely rocking, and Tony goes back down as far as he can, wiping his wet hand on his jeans so that it’s dry around the base of Bruce’s cock, and Bruce sucks in a breath while Tony works him in his mouth, trying to keep from letting the spit escape, while his dry hand works the rest of Bruce’s cock dry, twisting a little for friction. He swallows when his mouth gets too wet, hollows his cheeks around what’s in his mouth, pulls off enough to curl his tongue around the wide head of Bruce’s cock.

“Put it all in again,” Bruce groans, and Tony crouches up and goes down, taking almost everything, just missing what it takes to hold Bruce at the right angle, and presses his tongue hard against the base of Bruce’s cock. “Just a little faster, just… only a little,” Bruce pants out, and Tony follows instructions exactly, a thing most people probably think he’s incapable of doing, but he wants this, wants it to be good, good enough that he gets to do it again, and Bruce says, “I’m, I, ah,” Tony just braces himself, doesn’t stop what he’s doing, doesn’t even pause, and when Bruce shoots into his mouth Tony’s mouth floods with saliva at the taste, salt-heavy and strangely woodsy, and Tony swallows everything, keeps sucking and swallowing while Bruce arches and shudders, and pulls free as soon a Bruce goes loose in the chair, his mouth still open, breathing hard, and Tony is breathing hard too. His jaw is a dense ache only eclipsed by his cock, but every second of it had been super-nova levels of hot, and Bruce’s mouth looks sweet and vulnerable beneath the gag.

“When was the last time you tasted your own come, Bruce?” Tony asks, completely losing steady and neutral in favor of giddy and delighted and smoldering and needy.

“I…” Bruce says, and Tony leans in and kisses him, keeping it careful and brief, not pushing, not biting or taking, just letting Bruce taste himself on Tony’s tongue. Bruce gasps hotly into Tony’s mouth, and then gasps a little while longer after Tony pulls away.

“You taste so good,” Tony murmurs, going for soothing, not sure if he’s making it or not. He strokes his hands along Bruce’s thighs and chest, long slow strokes just to bring him down. “I still want to suck you for at least a week.”

Bruce huffs out a shaky laugh, and says, “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a blow job?” He leaves. “If you can do it like that, if that’s good for you, you can do that every day for the rest of my life.”

“That was so good for me,” Tony assures him. “Just getting to touch your cock is like winning the lottery, let alone getting to suck it. I can do this for you. I know patience isn’t one of those qualities that people expect from me, but I am capable of working on the kinds of things that take hours or days of devoted attention. I’m good at it, even. This is just a matter or repurposing those skills.”

“I… you’re right, I didn’t think…” Bruce murmurs.

“It’s okay. You let me anyway, and I know it’s hard for you to do that. So thank you, and I love your cock, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes as long as we’re both having a good time getting there, Bruce,” Tony says. “And I’m having a good time.” Just in case Bruce isn’t sure.

“So am I,” Bruce says throatily. “And I keep thinking if it can be like that, if we can do that…” He trails off like he’s afraid to say it.

“Then what else will we figure out we can do,” Tony finishes for him.

There is a long pause.

“I still don’t think I’ll ever be able to fuck you, Tony,” Bruce whispers. “Just thinking about doing it is enough to push me hard. I don’t think blindfolds or theoretical bondage is going to help with that.”

“Maybe not, and I get that you want it to be different, but it’s okay with me, if we can’t have that. Don’t get me wrong, the idea is hotter than the surface of the sun, but maybe I don’t really need that kind of UV exposure anyway.” Tony strokes softly across Bruce’s nipples and watches Bruce shiver at the caress, even as Bruce laughs a little mockingly at Tony’s metaphor.

“What about you?” Bruce asks.

“I’m so hard I could use it as a weapon right now,” Tony admits. “But I’m not in any hurry.” But he shifts a little so he can press his groin against Bruce’s calf, just to prove it’s true. Bruce lets out a soft sound, both pleased and a little frustrated.

“I can go get the toy,” Bruce says, but there is a slight hesitation to his voice, something Tony isn’t sure how to decipher, but which he understands enough to guess that the toy isn’t what Bruce really wants.

“I actually have something else,” Tony says, slow and soothing, stroking his hands along Bruce’s naked thighs. “In the penthouse. An idea I had that I know works for me, and that I think might work for you.” He keeps his tone completely devoid of pressure, suggestion and nothing more. Bruce’s head tips a little in thought, his lips pursing a little, but after several seconds he nods slowly.

“You’re better at this than I thought you’d be,” Bruce says, hand still behind his head. “At… restraining yourself.”

“I can do whatever it takes to get what I want,” Tony says with a fair amount of confidence. “Part of the secret to my success.” He grins a little. “Can I take the blindfold off? I don’t know that you want to stumble your way to the penthouse.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, but still doesn’t move his hands. He lets Tony reach up and unbuckle the blindfold, and blinks a little in the sunlight when Tony pulls the heavy cloth away from his eyes. Then he gives Tony a wide, slightly hot smile. “Your mouth is swollen,” he says, his voice deep and a little gravelly, laced with appreciation and something a little like possessiveness.

“It feels great,” Tony says. “My jaw is going to ache for the rest of the day.” He doesn’t try to conceal the self-satisfaction that idea stirs in him, and Bruce’s eyes go a little darker and his smile becomes a little more predatory. “Next time you can feed me your cock if you want to,” Tony says, the flash of the idea coming to him all at once, and Bruce’s smile goes a little sharp.

“Yeah, that would…” Bruce says, and licks his lips. Tony nods, but just works Bruce’s jeans back up his legs. Bruce lifts his ass so Tony can get them up, still keeping his hands tucked behind his head, watching Tony with dark eyes, still a little surprise lurking in them, like he can’t quite believe Tony can slow down enough to work them both through this as slowly as Bruce needs it to be. “What now?”

“Now we go down to the penthouse, and I’ll show you something I think you’ll like,” Tony says.

“And my hands?” Bruce asks, his forearms flexing a little.

Tony thinks about it for a long moment. “Let’s leave you like you are. Behind your back, though, maybe.”

Bruce waits for Tony to step back out of the way and then stands, shifting his hands down and tucking them behind his back.

His eyes are even darker, and Tony takes a moment to congratulate himself for understanding Bruce well enough to guess that the theoretical bondage might work. Bruce clearly likes it, and unlike Tony himself, has the self control to actually immerse himself in it mentally, at least deeply enough that it feels real enough to be a turn on for him.

They don’t talk in the short elevator ride from the roof to the penthouse, and Tony wraps a careful hand around Bruce’s elbow and leads him into Tony’s bedroom.

“I’d like us both to be all the way naked for this,” Tony half-asks, and Bruce’s expression stays dark and oddly serene as he just nods in answer. He makes no move to take anything off, and Tony feels a little thrill at the idea that the theoretical bondage means he gets to strip Bruce himself. He goes about it methodically, making it less about sex and more about practicality, and Bruce cooperates, his face staying still and relaxed. Tony strips his own clothes off as quickly as possible, flinging them away, his aching cock jerking with relief at being free of his jeans.

Bruce looks him over and Tony stands still and lets him, doing his own share of looking, three careful feet of space between them.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bruce says, voice a little rough with lust, cock rising again among the dense curls of his pubic hair. Then, almost shyly, with that little bashful smile that seems to clench Tony’s brain and heart and groin all the same time, he adds, “God, I could look at you all day.”

Tony is surprised to feel his cheeks heat -- blushing is not something his does often, and hasn’t been in years, but something about Bruce wanting him as badly as Tony wants Bruce is enough to set it off.

“Have you ever tried sounding?” Tony asks, gently cupping Bruce’s elbow again and leading him toward the bed. Bruce is absolutely cooperative as he lets Tony press him onto the bed, knee walking over to roughly the center, and then sinking back onto his heels. He’s so gorgeous kneeling naked in the middle of Tony’s bed that Tony feels a little light-headed and giddy with it; he can feel himself staring, storing up the mental picture just in case things go horribly awry.

Bruce’s eyes flash a little with something, curiosity or interest, but he just shakes his head. “I know what it is. It’s never been something I’ve given any thought to.”

“I think it might work for you. It has a kind of slow and steady rhythm to it that I think might… work you up without having to worry about you losing control.” Tony licks his swollen lips. “I can show you on myself first, if you want to see, and then you can decide if it’s something you want to try.”

“Even if it turns out not being something I can do, the idea of watching you do it to yourself is… good,” Bruce says, his eyes dipping down to catch on Tony’s cock for several seconds, still dark, hands still tucked behind his back. “In all honesty, watching you do anything to yourself is a go all the way across the board for me.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks, his voice a little hoarse with lust and pleasure. “I bet I could give you an interesting show with that dildo of yours.”

Bruce’s eyes gleam. “I have no doubt,” he says. His cock is hard again, tempting and solid between his thighs, and his voice is deep and intense. “So, show me what to do, and we’ll see if I can go there,” he says.

Tony leans over to the bedside table and captures the case of sounding rods in one hand and a tube of lube in the other. “This is fairly thin lube,” he says, feeling the need to explain, or maybe just to fill up the heavy silence. “Not that great for fucking, but better for this than something thicker.” He unclasps the case and opens it, lying it on the bed near Bruce’s knee. “I’m going with something about medium sized for me, since it’s been awhile,” he says, selecting one of the sounds. He holds it up and shows it to bruce, slim metal gleaming in the low light, the rod smooth and with a slight curve to it. “There are a huge variety of them; I had these custom made.”

Bruce’s eyes are fixed on the sound, and his gaze follows it down with Tony’s hands when Tony captures his cock in one hand. He clicks open the lube and squeezes the head of his cock until the slit gapes open a little, then drizzles a few drops of lube into the slit.

“That little?” Bruce asks.

“You don’t need much,” Tony says. “The sound isn’t that big, and there is already some moisture from my precome.” He shifts forward, spreading his knees so that Bruce can see everything clearly, and shifts the sound into his right hand, still holding the slit of his cock open with the fingers of his left. He positions the slim rod, nudging at his slit, and then applies gentle pressure. He shudders almost immediately as the rod starts to stretch his opening, and can’t remember for a few long seconds why it’s been so long since he’s done this. Then he slowly, carefully works the length of the rod into the slit of his cock, shuddering a little more at the strange and foreign feeling of being opened and filled this way. His cock softens a little at the faint burn, but that’s a good thing, it makes it easier to slip the sound into his shaft, and then it’s all the way in, just a quarter inch or so showing at the tip of his cock. Tony takes a deep, harsh breath and strokes his cock slowly, feeling the rigid pressure inside his shaft pressing him open, and lets the moan that wants to spill from his throat go without trying to stop it.

“What does it feel like?” Bruce wants to know, voice husky.

“It… ah, it forces your cock to stay straight and presses your slit open at the same time, and that’s good, jerking off with it inside is good, but really it all comes together when you start feeling like you’re going to come,” Tony replies, breathless a little as he strokes his cock slowly, feeling the build up of pleasure in his balls. He’s close, had been close the whole time he’d been sucking Bruce off so he isn’t going to last for long, but he tries to draw it out enough to give Bruce a solid demonstration. “It fills you up, so that, ah, when you’re ready to come it draws it out, won’t let it pass, makes it take a long time.” His fist speeds up a little in spite of himself, and the sound starts to slide out of his slit. He lets it slip out, moaning a little at the sensation, and then twists his wrist to press it slowly back inside, feeling it stretch his slit and fill his shaft. “I’m not going to last,” he warns Bruce. “Sucking you off already had me so close.”

“Good to know,” Bruce says silkily, and then leans in a little, as though to see better. “I want to suspend the theoretical bondage so I can touch you.”

“Anything you want,” Tony says, his cock jerking and flexing around the unforgiving length of the sound, which just makes his balls tighten and clench with pleasure, all at the idea of Bruce touching him.

Bruce brings his hands out from behind his back and nudges Tony’s hands away from his cock, wrapping one hand around his shaft and stroking slowly, the other dropping down to cup Tony’s balls. Tony groans, and feels the sound start to slip out of his shaft. He shivers and murmurs roughly, “Let it slip most of the way out and then press it back in with your free hand, but without stopping the stroking. It’s… It is really good, it feels like, like pressure and stretching at the same time.”

Bruce’s hands work between Tony’s thighs, following instructions precisely, like the scientist he is. Just seeing Bruce’s hands on him is enough to set Tony to panting, his hips rocking a little, his skin tingling at the broad warmth of Bruce’s hands. “God, that’s good,” he gasps as Bruce nudges the sound back down into Tony’s shaft. Tony’s thighs are clenching.

“And you can come like this?” Bruce asks, his attention riveted on Tony’s cock, eyes dark and full of desire, but also bright with interest in a way that’s almost entirely academic. The combination is desperately attractive on Bruce, and Tony is so close to coming his breath has started to come in short little hitching sounds.

“Yeah, it’s, it feels, there’s a kind of backlash feel to it, like, if you’ve ever come with a cock ring on, a little bit like that, where you have the orgasm, and then when the ring comes off, you have a kind of secondary orgasm, it’s not, God, Bruce, I’m close, not, ah, exactly like that, but that’s close, just, a little faster.”

Bruce’s eyes flash up to take in Tony’s face, intensity tautening his features, and then drop back to his cock. “Don’t hold back for me,” he says. “I want to see you do it.”

Tony shudders once, full body, then jerks his hips up into Bruce’s hands and lets go of his control. The fullness of the sound in his shaft becomes pressure so intense that he shakes from it, struggling toward his orgasm, and Bruce thumbs the sound a little more deeply into his cock and Tony shouts, going tense, balls tightening and cock spasming as he comes with the sound blocking the path his come wants to take so that he groans a little, the orgasm rolling in the pit of his belly. “Okay, take it out,” he gasps, still half-moaning, and Bruce grasps the end of the sound and tugs it free. Tony’s jizz rushes up the shaft of his cock and his hips jerk as he spills across Bruce’s fingers. feeling that backlash, the rush of pressure released, and he hisses with pleasure, his whole body shivering as his muscles go lax with relief.

“God,” he mutters thickly. “Your hands are amazing, Bruce, I fucking love it when you touch me.”

Bruce looks up quickly, as though surprised, and then his eyes glitter and he leans in and slides his lips across Tony’s two quick gentle presses, and then a flick of his tongue parting Tony’s lips. Tony cooperates, still feeling a little stupefied by his orgasm, letting Bruce slip his tongue inside and explore Tony’s mouth, meeting Bruce’s tongue with his own but being careful, as the last time, not to try to take any kind of control over the kiss. This one, though, isn’t quite as careful as the two he’d got last night had been, Bruce’s mouth firmer, more demanding, as though he’s got a better handle on how much he can take now, and Tony is delighted to find his lips being bitten with sharp little nips and then bruised by the press of hard teeth. He’s panting heavily when Bruce breaks away, and realizes he has his hands in Bruce’s hair, which he definitely hadn’t meant to do, but which Bruce doesn’t seem to object to. Bruce drops his head forward onto Tony’s shoulder, also breathing hard.

“I’ll try it,” he says after a long minute. “But I think it’s better if I start out doing it myself. Maybe once I see how it feels, you could take over, but I want to make sure…” Bruce doesn’t finish the sentence, but Tony doesn’t need him to.

“Whatever you want to do, Bruce,” he says, silently reveling in the feel of Bruce’s thick hair wound around his fingers. “Just watching you touch yourself is enough to make me want to die happy, so we’ll do it however you want to do it.”

“Okay, do I use the same one you used?” Bruce asks, focused a little more acutely, his curiosity, the scientist in him peeking out from around the desire. Tony finds that almost as attractive as he find the desire. Bruce’s body is by no means the only reason Tony wants him. Not even close.

“No, we’ll go smaller,” Tony says, and grabs the case and removes the smallest of the sounds. “This is actually easier to do, easier to start anyway, if you’re at least partly soft. With you hard, it may hurt a little. You have to tell me right away if you hate it.”

“I can force myself softer,” Bruce says, and Tony pauses with the sound in one hand and the lube in the other, to look up at him. Bruce shrugs, but looks a little shy again, a sight that for some reason calls to Tony’s libido more strongly than any of the most wanton of come hither looks he’s been on the receiving end of. “I just learned how to do it after a while, when it became clear that sex wasn’t safe. Just. Give me just a minute.”

“Sure, of course,” Tony says, and watches Bruce close his eyes and tip his head back a little, and then drops his gaze to Bruce’s cock, almost as curious about whether Bruce can do this as Bruce had seemed to be about the sounding. It takes about two minutes of Bruce breathing slow and even, and it happen slowly, but Bruce’s cock first shrinks just a little from the impressive length of him, and then goes a little soft in other ways, so that it lays across his thigh instead of jutting up from between them. Tony is surprisingly turned on by it. He can’t even say why. Just that he is.

“Is this good enough?” Bruce asks, and Tony jerks his gaze back up to Bruce’s face, which is almost serene now, and nods a little, momentarily mute with desire.

“If I touch you, are you going to stiffen up again?” Tony asks.

“Not if it’s just a little. I assume you want to lube me?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah. That’s the only part I feel like I should do myself, at least this first time. Just to make sure it’s enough but not too much,” Tony confesses, mouth dry.

Bruce nods. “Go ahead. Don’t stroke, but I take take a little handling.”

Tony swallows. “Okay,” he says. “Hold this.” He hands Bruce the thin sound. Bruce takes it, his hand exploring it curiously, feeling the slight bulb of one end and the tapered other end.

“Which end goes in first?” Bruce asks. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“The end with the bulb,” Tony says, and keeps his hands soft and methodical as he lifts Bruce’s half-soft cock off of his thigh and squeezes it gently, so that the slit gapes open like a tiny mouth. He lines up the bottle of lube and carefully drizzles it in, getting as much inside as he can, but it’s still not much lube. Hopefully Bruce will produce enough precome himself to make the sound work the way it’s supposed to. And if not they’ll do something else. Tony really doesn’t care what. He’s only a little surprised to feel it. He’d already known he’d do whatever it took to have Bruce, would take whatever Bruce could give and let it be enough.

“Okay, use your other hand to hold yourself open, like I’ve got you open,” Tony says, and Bruce shifts his free hand down under the one Tony has on Bruce’s cock and applies pressure. Tony removes his hand, and Bruce slides his fingers up a little to keep the slit of his cock open. “It should just slip in,” Tony says. “It will feel a little weird, but it shouldn’t hurt. If it hurts, you’re doing it wrong or there’s not enough lube.”

Bruce nods, and Tony watches, transfixed, as Bruce holds the sound carefully in one hand and his cock just as carefully in the other, and based on nothing but Tony’s guess that it might work for him, places the slightly bulbous end of the sound against the slit in his cock and pushes gently. It actually goes in quickly, more quickly than Tony would have guessed, and Bruce sucks in a huge breath, freezing, with his eyes wide and locked on his own cock, and then lets it out in little shuddering breaths that go straight to Tony’s groin. Bruce starts to harden around the sound even as he carefully strokes his own cock with the sound in place, and he takes another of those huge breaths, but this time in a more controlled way, less surprised and more deliberate, and when he lets it out it comes out shaky still, but not as shuddering as it had the first time.

“Jesus,” Bruce says, his gaze still fixed on his own cock and what he’s doing to it. “I can’t believe how good and strange it is at the same time. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Let go of the end, and stroke yourself,” Tony says, also staring at Bruce’s cock. “It will start to slide out of you slowly as you do, but part of what feels good is pushing it back in after it slides part of the way out.”

Bruce follow’s Tony’s instructions precisely, but his hand on his own cock is a little different than it had been last night, a little looser, a little faster. He lets out a low rumble of sound that comes from deep in his body as the sound starts to slide slowly out of his cock, but doesn’t stop stroking. His body shudders, a whole body movement that makes the pit of Tony’s belly start to grind with renewed desire, and Bruce stokes himself again, until the sound has worked itself about two thirds out of his cock, and then he glances up at Tony, his eyes dark and swimming, but also questioning.

“Just push it back in nice and slow while you keep stroking yourself,” Tony tells him, his gaze momentarily hung up on the hungry look on Bruce’s face, so he doesn’t actually see Bruce obey, but rather sees it on his face, sees Bruce’s brows arch and his mouth drop a little open and his eyes flutter closed, the lashes like dark fans at the tops of slightly flushed cheeks.

Bruce says, “Oh, Tony,” like he’s amazed and grateful, and bites his lip, and Tony has to press his hands flat against the bed to keep from reaching for Bruce just to have his hands on him in some way.

“It’s good?” Tony asks, and he doesn’t have to ask, he can see it on Bruce’s face, but he wants to hear it anyway.

“Yes, it’s, it’s good, it’s strange but good, and there’s almost no force to it, it’s not even as… as frantic as just jerking off is. The slowness of it makes it… It feels almost totally safe.” Bruce is breathing hard by the time he finishes speaking, but his hand is still slowly stroking his cock and the sound is slipping its way free of the slit an inch at a time. “I think you could, if you wanted,” Bruce says, and opens his eyes to give Tony a dazed, wanting look.

“Do you want me to?” Tony asks, forcing his hands under his knees as he asks it, because he doesn’t want to do anything Bruce isn’t sure he wants.

Bruce smiles a little, and says, “Having you touch me, if I think I can, is always going to be my preference to touching myself.” He says it sweetly, artlessly, as if it doesn’t jolt through Tony’s body like electricity, just hearing Bruce tell him that he wants Tony’s hands on him.

Tony scoots a little closer, finally letting his hands go free, and first nudges Bruce’s hand away from the sound, or where it’s hovering just over the sound, rather, so he can push it back into Bruce’s cock himself. Bruce’s breath catches, and he lets out a quiet moan, as if it’s better when it’s Tony doing it than it had been doing it himself, and that only makes Tony want more frantically to do it. He brushes the fingertips of his right hand across the knuckles of the hand Bruce has wrapped around his cock, and Bruce lets go, and then surprises Tony by leaning back and taking his weight on both hands when Tony closes his fist around Bruce’s cock. Bruce is staring down his body at Tony’s hand on him, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and Tony strokes him more or less exactly as Bruce had stroked himself, just maybe a little more firmly, since he knows how it feels best when he does it to himself, and hopes that carries over to doing it to Bruce. Bruce gasps at Tony’s first stroke, and his eyes snap closed this time, his brow furrowing a little.

Tony goes still, careful, but doesn’t let go, can’t quite make himself lose the feel of Bruce’s cock curled in his fist if he doesn’t have to. “Bruce?” he asks.

“It’s good, don’t stop,” Bruce says. “It’s just harder to look at you doing it. It feels better, but it’s harder to keep it from being overwhelming.”

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Tony says, and Bruce nods, and Tony strokes him again, and Bruce surprises him by opening his eyes to watch, though his brow is a little furrowed still, as though he’s focusing on keeping it on the right side of what he can take.

Tony strokes him again, and the sound is inching out of Bruce’s cock, pushed out by the force of the strokes and the tightness of the opening, and Tony strokes one more time and pushes the sound back in at the same time. “Tony,” Bruce says, sounding shaky, and Tony looks up at Bruce’s face and is a little surprised to see Bruce flushed from hairline to chest. “Do it faster,” Bruce half-begs, and his eyes catch Tony’s for a moment, dark and swimming with eddies of lust, but not looking out of control to Tony, not looking like he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

So Tony does. He slides his hand up Bruce’s cock about half as quickly as he would have if it had been his own, and in three strokes has to push the sound in again, and Bruce huffs out a helpless sound, but it doesn’t sound bad, and Bruce’s hips are actually rocking up against Tony’s hand a little, just a little, maybe because of the way he stretched back onto his hands, but a little is enough to make Tony feel a little like he could come just watching Bruce, dividing his attention between Bruce’s cock and Bruce’s face. Tony strokes him and Bruce makes a soft, almost keening sound, and says, “I think, I think you can do this as fast as you want, however fast as is safe,” and Bruce sounds half-amazed and half-grateful at it, but Tony sort of understands, sounding is different than anything Bruce has had before, is different than just jerking of. He tightens his fist just a little, but speeds up his strokes until Bruce’s body is rocking in time with them, and every time Tony slides the sound back into Bruce’s cock, Bruce let’s out a soft cry, so needful that it makes Tony’s whole body hard and aching to give Bruce what he needs, and halfway through the next time he is sliding the sound back into Bruce’s cock, Bruce stops breathing altogether and lets out a soft, surprised cry, his hips jerking a little wildly. “I feel like I’m coming but I’m not, it feels, oh my god, Tony, it feels fucking amazing, don’t stop, do whatever comes next.”

Tony strokes Bruce another three or four times, presses the sound back into his cock, and Bruce’s hips are jerking and heaving and Bruce’s breath is almost coming out in soft sobs, and Bruce’s face is openly transported with surprised pleasure, like he’s surprised he’s even allowed this much pleasure, and then Tony slips the sound free of Bruce’s cock, and Bruce shouts, a low, rough sound, and his come doesn’t just spill out, it spurts out, the force of it enough to stripe Bruce almost from the neck down, and Bruce writhes with it, his whole body tight and pulsing under Tony’s hands, his head thrown back, but not so far that Tony can’t see the utter abandonment on Bruce’s face, and God, that look on Bruce’s face, that open look of pleasure, is enough to make Tony want to do anything to give it to Bruce, let it be like that for Bruce, and if sounding becomes Bruce’s new favorite things to do, Tony will be happy to do this and nothing more with him as long as Bruce wants to.

Then Bruce is breathing hard, his eyes fluttering a little as though he is fighting to keep them open, and Tony stills his hand on Bruce’s cock, just sensing that more would be too much, and Bruce stares up at him in wonder and gratitude. Before Tony can do more than set the small sound aside, Bruce is bowing his body up to catch Tony by the back of the neck and drag him into a kiss, a hard kiss that Tony has to fight not to give back just as hard, has to fight just to accept and respond gently, though he can’t keep back his cries as Bruce bites at his lips and tongue, because Tony is hard and aching again, even this soon, just at seeing Bruce come undone in a way that Bruce clearly had never expected to get.

“Tony,” Bruce breathes against his mouth. “That was, oh my god, that was amazing, that wasn’t, it wasn’t even hard, it was all so easy,” and he sounds, now, like he might almost cry. Tony lets go of Bruce’s cock and pushes him back, pushes him upright to check the look on Bruce’s face, but it’s soft and uncomplicatedly happy, and Tony feels his own smile want to break his face in half, he is almost vibrating with triumph and the thrill of making Bruce look like that.

“Lay back for me,” Tony urges, because he loves the way Bruce looks tipped back onto his hands, and Bruce does, goes back, bracing his hands behind him, his come streaked across his chest and belly, and Tony thinks Bruce could probably blow him, would probably blow him, but he doesn’t want to push Bruce out of the peace and ease of the orgasm by asking for it, so just goes up to his knees, wrapping his hand around his own cock now, and jerking hard, it won’t take him long at all, especially not when Bruce sees what he’s doing and watches with hunger in his eyes, and Tony feels almost sure, now, that Bruce isn’t going to stop trying to do this thing that they’re doing together, isn’t going to bow out due to fear or guilt at what he thinks he can’t give Tony, God, Tony hopes he won’t, but for now, Bruce’s eyes on his cock and then on his face, heated and wanting, that’s enough for Tony, and he shouts a little and curls a little forward when he comes, shooting across Bruce’s chest so that his come just makes Bruce even messier.

When he’s done shivering through the aftershocks, he carefully falls to one side of Bruce, curled half on his own side, but still close enough for them to touch. Bruce takes his hand and licks the come off the backs of his knuckles while Tony only lies there and burns with it, Bruce’s soft lips and tongue on his skin, licking away every trace of Tony’s come, enough to dig hooks of want deeply into the pit of his belly again.

“I don’t know if it’s because I had never done it before, or if it’s because it feels so different than what I think of as sex, but that was one of the easiest orgasms I’ve had in years,” Bruce says finally. He is still holding Tony’s hand, and Tony is glad of it.

“Maybe it just doesn’t catch the other guy’s attention the way other things do,” Tony says. “I’m just glad it was good for you. I’m just glad I got to see your face when you came undone from it.”

Bruce eases up into a sitting position and lets go of Tony’s hand. Tony makes a low, unhappy noise, and Bruce laughs. “I’m sorry, Tony, but if you have as much chest hair as I do, you have to get come out of it while it’s still wet or it’s impossible to clean up.” He eases himself off the edge of the bed and disappears into Tony’s bathroom. Tony hears water running, and can’t get Bruce’s face out of his mind, can’t get Bruce’s body out of his mind, can’t get his mind off of Bruce period, and he knows he obsesses, and he knows it’s part of what makes him a genius at what he does, and all he can do is hope that some of that genius translates to what he’s doing with Bruce, that he can somehow work Bruce like he can work machines and technology, because giving Bruce up now, after this, seems like too much to even consider.

He sits up slowly and places the sounds they’d used in the lid of the box to sanitize before he puts them away, and sets the box on the bedside table before he leans back against the headboard, thinking, thinking, trying to come up with things to keep Bruce with him, to keep him on board with just being with him, while he tries to keep himself from thinking of ways to manipulate Bruce, because he wants Bruce, he does, but he knows he manipulates people, and he doesn’t want to manipulate Bruce.

Bruce comes out of the bathroom and sees Tony propped up against the headboard. He’s still got the two filmy scarf ropes around his wrists, and for some reason that is also enough to stir lust up in the pit of Tony’s belly.

Bruce sits down and puts a hand on Tony’s thigh, his face serious, almost solemn. But what he says is, “I know you’ve got more sexual experience than I do. Surely we can find other things to do that are like that, or are almost as easy. I know you have a creative mind.” He arches his brows at Tony.

Tony is so relieved that he shifts forward onto the bed and catches Bruce’s head in both hands, fingers tangling a little in Bruce’s curls, and presses their foreheads together.

“I’ll think of something,” Tony says, and is determined that he will, somehow, think of something.

“I don’t doubt it,” Bruce says easily, looping his arms around Tony’s waist and not trying to pull away from the fierceness of Tony’s embrace.

Tony fights down a rush of victory, victory that Bruce is still going to try with him, be with him, and can’t keep the smile off his face.