"Got That Swing," an Avengers: Age of Ultron ficlet
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Warnings: This happens at some vague point near the very end of or following Ultron's events, but includes nothing discernibly spoilery, just a reference you'll miss without first having seen the film.
Other Notes: If you blink, you'll miss the Steve/Bucky part of this; they're my OTP, so, I'm not sure how that "Language, Tony," moment possessed me enough to come home from watching AAoU in the theater and write this pairing instead, but there you go. The title is from "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)." Any mistakes are mine alone.
Got That Swing
"Say it," Tony commands, one eyebrow cocked.
Dragging in a harsh, low breath, Steve clenches his jaw, his fists, everything.
"Say it." Tony's sing-song dips raggedly. "You want to."
Steve shifts. The desire is building, filling and stretching him, but he can't.
"C'mon, you know you want to. I know you want to. You'll feel so --"
"Stark," Steve grits out, "Quit trying to seduce me. You're already . . . inside."
Tony rumbles, almost purrs, and follows every other word with a lazy roll of his hips into the cradle of Steve's. "I am, my cock is so deep inside your tight, sexy ass, old man. But that's not what I mean."
Steve's head rolls on the pillow. His eyelids feel heavy in the glow from the reactor in the middle of Tony's sweat-streaked chest. He is not thinking about another torso melded with man-made parts. And he is not panting like he hasn't since before transformation. "Get on with it."
"Oh, no, no." Pulling back, Tony holds himself still, at the edge of what Steve needs. He's smirking, but strain weights his voice when he continues, "Say that magic word, or I walk. Very awkwardly toward a handy bathroom, but I will walk."
Steve bucks against Tony's hands at his waist. He could make Tony move, could just take. Or he could give. Tony rocks a little, tugging on Steve's boundaries every which way, and Steve groans, drawn out, "Fuuuck."
Tony's long, deep thrust into him is an affirmation and a reward and, oh, God, such a heady pleasure.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck me," Steve gasps, can't hold it back anymore, and spills across their stomachs. He keeps riding the waves of Tony surging into him, his back arched. Tony's grunts are escalating. Steve fights through his lassitude for enough control to reach down and grasp Tony, hard and slick and hot in Steve's fist.
Tony whines, his interrogatory sound wordless, his hips jerking.
Roughly Steve says, "Your turn."
Grabbing Steve's hands, Tony pins them to the pillow as he drops his weight and slides all the way inside Steve again. Steve feels him there, feels him coming, and feels the heat everywhere as Tony murmurs over and over into his ear, "Please."
- end -
Pairings: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Warnings: This happens at some vague point near the very end of or following Ultron's events, but includes nothing discernibly spoilery, just a reference you'll miss without first having seen the film.
Other Notes: If you blink, you'll miss the Steve/Bucky part of this; they're my OTP, so, I'm not sure how that "Language, Tony," moment possessed me enough to come home from watching AAoU in the theater and write this pairing instead, but there you go. The title is from "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)." Any mistakes are mine alone.
Got That Swing
"Say it," Tony commands, one eyebrow cocked.
Dragging in a harsh, low breath, Steve clenches his jaw, his fists, everything.
"Say it." Tony's sing-song dips raggedly. "You want to."
Steve shifts. The desire is building, filling and stretching him, but he can't.
"C'mon, you know you want to. I know you want to. You'll feel so --"
"Stark," Steve grits out, "Quit trying to seduce me. You're already . . . inside."
Tony rumbles, almost purrs, and follows every other word with a lazy roll of his hips into the cradle of Steve's. "I am, my cock is so deep inside your tight, sexy ass, old man. But that's not what I mean."
Steve's head rolls on the pillow. His eyelids feel heavy in the glow from the reactor in the middle of Tony's sweat-streaked chest. He is not thinking about another torso melded with man-made parts. And he is not panting like he hasn't since before transformation. "Get on with it."
"Oh, no, no." Pulling back, Tony holds himself still, at the edge of what Steve needs. He's smirking, but strain weights his voice when he continues, "Say that magic word, or I walk. Very awkwardly toward a handy bathroom, but I will walk."
Steve bucks against Tony's hands at his waist. He could make Tony move, could just take. Or he could give. Tony rocks a little, tugging on Steve's boundaries every which way, and Steve groans, drawn out, "Fuuuck."
Tony's long, deep thrust into him is an affirmation and a reward and, oh, God, such a heady pleasure.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck me," Steve gasps, can't hold it back anymore, and spills across their stomachs. He keeps riding the waves of Tony surging into him, his back arched. Tony's grunts are escalating. Steve fights through his lassitude for enough control to reach down and grasp Tony, hard and slick and hot in Steve's fist.
Tony whines, his interrogatory sound wordless, his hips jerking.
Roughly Steve says, "Your turn."
Grabbing Steve's hands, Tony pins them to the pillow as he drops his weight and slides all the way inside Steve again. Steve feels him there, feels him coming, and feels the heat everywhere as Tony murmurs over and over into his ear, "Please."
- end -