The Tony Stark Kink Meme
As of today 4/17/09 the Tony Stark Kink meme will not accept Tony/Steve prompts. Please direct those to the Steve/Tony Kink Meme.
The Tony Stark Kink Meme
Ground rules:
Post a prompt either anon or not in response to the post.
Reply to comment with filled prompt.
Keep it porny nothing under PG-13.
No concrit allowed. This is not the place for it ( Read more... )
The Tony Stark Kink Meme
Ground rules:
Post a prompt either anon or not in response to the post.
Reply to comment with filled prompt.
Keep it porny nothing under PG-13.
No concrit allowed. This is not the place for it ( Read more... )
Steve hadn't planned to stop by Tony's office, but basketball with Peter and Sam was cut short by rain, and it was almost six. Even if, by some miracle, Tony had the time to grab lunch, he'd be getting hungry again.
Propping the Italian take-out on his hip, Steve didn't bother to knock before swinging open the door to Tony's office.
There's enough paperwork towering around his desk that Tony had to sit up straight to see, which he did with a surprised jerk, and he didn't smile upon seeing Steve as much as grimace. Steve categorized the tight line at the corner of his lips, not quite covered by his facial hair, the crease of his brow, and the death grip on his pen.
Ah. Steve had forgotten Tony's attempted merger with . . . some other corporation had kicked off today. It must not have gone as he had hoped. Steve's suddenly very thankful he thought to stop by.
Tony only noticed the food once Steve got right next to his desk, obviously smelling the butter and garlic of the scampi, which had been teasing Steve's stomach the entire trip over.
"Avanti's," he said, gratefully, reaching out and practically nabbing the box from Steve's hands. Ripping open the wrapper that contained the plastic fork and knife with his canines, he added, "You're the best, sweetheart."
Steve just nodded, and cleared a spot on Tony's desk to lean against, and they ate in companionable silence, snippets of short, terse conversation between bites. ("Raining?" "Yeah. Not too hard." "You're dripping on July's budget plan." "Sorry.")
He waited until Tony was scraping at the bottom of his box in a futile attempt for more, to clear his throat.
"You've been working hard, tony."
Tony's fork froze comically midway between his take out and mouth. Tony knew that tone of voice, he knew what's expected of him when Steve spoke to him like that. He could feel Tony's eyes on him as he stood, shed the damp shirt on his way to couch, that, as far as he could tell, had been more decoration than anything else before him.
Tony's breathing had deepened by the time Steve sat, a different sort of tension seeping in. Good, there wouldn't be any resistance tonight. There was certainly some pleasure in bending Tony over his knee, but he was in the mood for something more pliable.
He patted his knee in invitation. "Lock the door on your way," he instructed.
Tony stood, crossing the room, fidgeting with his cuff links, taking off his tie before locking the door. Somehow making the act of disrobing the picture of professionalism.
"It wasn't that bad," Tony said, a token protest, straddling Steve's lap.
"Really?" On a hunch, he plucked one of Tony's hands from his shoulder, holding out the palm. He ran a thumb across the half moons dug in there wordlessly. Not bleeding, but red and angry.
Tony seemed surprised at the sight of them, eyebrows high. "Sorry, daddy," he said, sheepish.
"You're supposed to call when it gets bad," he said. "I'll come, but you have to tell me."
Tony nodded, and repeated his apology as he shifted closer, and Steve could feel long lashes against his neck twitch as the iris beneath them shifted, seeming to believe if he pressed close enough, they'd become one being.
This was a newer game, so he could hardly hold it against him for it slipping his mind, but he still wished Tony would even think of looking for support, or something to relax him, before getting to this point. He would've been a knot of tension and nerves if this had continued until he finally left for the night -- and probably would've grown worse all week, or however long it took for the merger to settle.
Steve ran his hands up Tony's back, the dress shirt slick to the touch and expensive enough that he felt uncomfortable touching it with dirty, rough fingers, wincing at each catch of the fabric.
"Sit up," he said. Tony obeyed, watching without protest and Steve undid the buttons, sliding it off his shoulders. The undershirt came untucked and followed just as easily.
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