Fic: Sex, Lies and Newsprint: The Kinky Truth, NC-17
Title: Sex, Lies and Newsprint: A Year of Cap/Tony Romance as Told By the Tabloids
Universe: Marvel Adventures
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Warnings: None
Beta: none, feel free to point out any errors
Summary: Tony is corrupting America's paragon of virtue! Because Captain America has surely never even heard of sex, let alone - wait, what?
Previous parts can be found here: Sex, Lies and Newsprint
Sex, Lies and Newsprint: A Year of Cap/Tony Romance As Told By the Tabloids
Part Three: The Kinky Truth!
Superhuman Star
The Kinky Truth! Are Stark's Wild Ways Too Much?
Sex tapes! Bondage! Adult toys! Roleplaying! Billionaire playboy-turned-superhero Tony Stark has done it all at least once and his former lovers have the pictures to prove it. (See page 34 for a selection!) But our sources are telling us that his wealth of experience may be a major turn-off to the new man in his life.
Tony's new beau is as clean-cut and apple-pie as, well, Captain America. Steve Rogers, Tony's old-fashioned new lover, is not a man who walks on the wild side and it's coming between them.
"Tony's very open, sexually," Stark's ex, Roxane Gilbert, tells us. "I don't think there's anything he wouldn't try. As long as everyone's enjoying themselves, he'll give it a shot."
Some of Tony's former lovers remember things a little differently. "It was like he couldn't enjoy himself the regular way," Tiberius Stone, who dated Tony briefly, told us. "He needed the kinky stuff to get into it at all."
"That's not uncommon in situations like this," Doctor Damian Monroe, a sexual therapist who has not treated Tony Stark, tells us. "Men - and women - with a varied sexual background and few if any emotional ties to their partners can find it difficult to achieve satisfaction the traditional way. They end up seeking out newer and more elaborate methods of release and each time the need gets a little stronger and the satisfaction gets a little less. It's not unlike an addiction."
Amidst rumors of sexual addiction, we have to wonder what Tony's new man is making of this.
"He's uncomfortable," an inside source tells us. "Steve's basically an old-fashioned guy. Even some of the tamer stuff is risqué to him."
Is a man born in the 1920s ready for a relationship involving handcuffs, sex toys and safe words? A relationship with another man, no less, a relationship which was not only frowned upon but actually illegal back in his day?
"That is a lot of change to adjust to at once," Dr. Monroe explained. "Even in this day and age, there is a lot of sexual inhibition, a lot of stigma attached to sex. Any sexual activity, no matter how mild or tame can be considered embarrassing or even shameful and that's an attitude it takes a great deal of time and effort to escape. I would suggest that Mr. Rogers not participate in anything that he is not 100% comfortable with, and consider seeking out a sexual therapist if his discomfort affects his sex life in a detrimental way."
But Steve may feel pressure to participate in the lifestyle whether he's ready or not. "Tony's a guy who gets what he wants," former Stark flame Indries Moomji told us. "And if he can't get it from you, he'll get it from someone else."
Ominous words - and ones likely to spell the end of this relatively new relationship. "Cap's not going to get into anything he thinks is immoral," our insider tells us, "and Tony's not known for being especially forgiving of people who tell him 'no'."
****
He was getting old, Tony thought. There was just nothing else to it. Once upon a time he'd been able to pull all-nighters in the workshop, run Stark Industries, romance a beautiful woman and still have energy left over to save the world. Usually all while drunk. Now he was sober, celibate and fucking exhausted and it hadn't even been three full days since he last slept.
Old, he repeated to himself, rolling the idea around in his mind as he rode the elevator from his workshop to the living quarters above. Not even thirty-five yet and he was already old. It didn't seem fair. Hank McCoy was older than Tony and he wasn't old. Hank Pym wasn't old. Carol Danvers wasn't old. Reed Richards - well, Reed had been born old, but Sue Richards was looking damned good at this age. Steve. Steve was pushing ninety and he wasn't old.
Steve was the opposite of old. He was young and energetic, full of vibrancy and intensity. He made Tony feel like a decade and a half of loneliness could disappear just by standing at Tony's side.
He could also bring the dead back to life, Tony reflected ruefully as his cock twitched at the thought of Steve's vibrancy. He pressed the heel of his hand against his lower stomach and tried to think unarousing thoughts. Three months of celibacy was a long dry spell for Tony - he hadn't gone so long without since he'd stopped drinking. He missed sex just as much as he'd expected to, but…
There were compensations.
Steve's fingers in his hair. Tony's hands on Steve's waist. The taste of Steve's mouth. Things Tony had never thought he could have, things that were, in a strange, but satisfying way, more important than sex.
Old, Tony thought again as his body slowly obeyed his command. So very old. And sappy.
The elevator came to a stop and he shuffled out as the doors slid open. It was late in the evening and the front hall was dim, the night creeping in the windows and the only light seeping out from beneath the kitchen door. It seemed terribly lonely all of a sudden and even though his isolation in the workshop had been entirely self-imposed he had the intense desire for company.
And coffee. Oh, so much coffee. Then bed and a shower. He ran a hand through his hair and reconsidered. Shower. Then bed.
He swallowed a yawn as he pushed open the kitchen door and walked into the light. The kitchen smelled like bread and cheese and a half dozen other mouth-watering scents, and the sounds of Peter and Steve's idle conversation washed over Tony like a wave, leaving him feeling oddly off-center at the sudden presence of other people. Old, he decided. He'd gone longer than three days without company before, but he wasn't used to it anymore.
Steve looked up as he entered and the smile that crossed his lips was small and pleased and made Tony feel like he'd vanquished a supervillain just by walking in the door.
"Hey," Tony said intelligently, blinking at Steve and trying to remember what he'd come in there for.
"Hey yourself," Steve said. His eyes crinkled a little in amusement as he pushed his chair back from the table. "I was starting to think we were going to have to send a team in after you."
He'd asked not to be disturbed when he vanished into the workshop, but he'd known he'd only be able to get away with that for so long before Steve or Pepper came down after him, if only to make sure he hadn't forgotten to eat for three days straight. Which, in Tony's defense, he hadn't. Not completely. He'd had a power bar in there somewhere, he was pretty sure.
"No, I ah-" Tony gestured toward the counter. "I ran out of coffee."
"And here I thought you missed me," Steve teased.
Tony was too tired to be disingenuous, and just awake enough to realize that might be a bad thing. "I missed you the first hour."
Steve's expression softened as he stood from this chair. "Come here." He held out a hand as he walked around the table and Tony went willingly. Steve's hand curled around his arm and tugged him toward an empty chair. Tony let himself be manhandled into sitting and had to resist the urge to lay his head down on the table and fall asleep right there.
"You look like crap," Peter told him cheerfully, shoveling a spoonful of Jarvis's homemade macaroni and cheese in his mouth. "Clint bet me fifty bucks you'd died down there and we wouldn't know until your corpse started stinking up the place."
Steve made a displeased sound that had Peter ducking his head like a schoolboy. "I bet him you'd just forget to eat and come out when you were hungry." He shot a glance at Steve and leaned across the table toward Tony to add, "You totally look like a zombie, though. You sure you didn't die down there?"
Tony narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know I am stunning and nothing like a zombie."
"You're very pretty," Steve said. He set a mug of coffee down on the table in front of Tony.
Tony took it in both hands and dragged in a deep breath. "Oh, God, that's amazing."
"Coffeegasm," Peter said. "Should I leave you and the cup alone?"
Tony managed to flip him off without letting go of the mug and downed half the coffee in three long, uninterrupted swallows. Steve knew him too well, he thought. Agave, no milk or sugar and it wasn't so hot that he burned his mouth. Pepper must have coached him.
"That's the stuff," he said, slumping back in his chair with a sigh.
Steve's fingers combed through his hair and Tony turned his head into the touch. This, this, he'd missed this for three days. No calloused fingers against his skin, no strong hands cupping his face, no arms pulling him into a kiss. For three nights he'd broken down the repulsors in the backup armors down to their circuits and upgraded them piece by piece instead of sprawling on the couch with Steve's chest pressed against his back as they bickered over what to watch. For three days he'd worked on making sure the updated JARVIS interfaces would be compatible with the older armors, just in case he needed them one day. And it had been necessary work, important work, but he could have been having lunch with Steve at an outdoor café, or challenging him to a basketball game, or letting Steve drag him to the art festival in the park that he'd been talking about all week.
"Missed you," he sighed against Steve's wrist.
Steve sighed against his hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I missed you, too," he said, and there was nothing grudging in his voice, for all that Tony had basically exiled himself to the workshop and ordered Steve not to follow. Tony felt kind of guilty about that. There had probably been a better way to handle that. Steve ran his hand through Tony's hair again before he reclaimed his seat.
Tony eyed the remains of Steve's dinner until Steve huffed a small laugh and pushed the plate across the table at him. Macaroni and cheese, baked ham, steamed broccoli. Tony closed his eyes and made a mental note to make allowances for any interruptions that involved Jarvis's cooking the next time he exiled himself. "Did I miss anything?"
Steve shook his head.
"Just the Wrecking Crew," Peter said around a mouthful of ham. "Got it into their heads to start wrecking banks, but they kind of suck at it. Hulk and I dealt with it. Most of them are in lockup now. Except the ones Hulk squeezed too hard, but they'll be fine."
They settled into a companionable kind of silence as Tony devoured the rest of Steve's dinner. He finished off the coffee and Steve pressed a glass of green juice into his hand instead of a refill. It tasted a little more strongly of carrots than Tony generally liked, but after the first sip he suddenly realized how thirsty he was and drained the rest of the glass.
He felt a lot better for having eaten and he leaned back in the chair and gave Steve a small smile.
Steve slid a glass of water across the table at him with an expression that said Tony should drink all of it without complaint. "Listen, we should probably talk."
Tony was still feeling too comfortable in the bright kitchen to get nervous over the world's most ominous conversation-starter coming out of Steve's mouth. "About what?"
"About the fact that you keep turning me down for sex."
"Well, I'm done eating," Peter announced, pushing his plate away and thumping his head down onto the table. "Possibly forever."
Tony blinked at Steve, trying to anticipate the joke, but Steve's expression was serious, his eyes a little sad. Without looking away, Tony set his glass down on the table very carefully. "Peter, give us a minute, would you?"
"I can do that," Peter said, "I can give you several minutes. I can give you as many minutes as you want." His gaze flickered from Tony to Steve's face and back again, and he actually looked worried. It was sweet. Hopefully unnecessary, but sweet. "Just - yeah. I'll make sure you guys get some privacy for a bit."
Tony waited until the door had closed behind Peter before he licked his lips and realized he had no idea what to say. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm not trying to be pushy," Steve said slowly.
"No," Tony said quickly. "I'm not - I don't get pushy from you at all."
"And I'm not trying to pressure you into anything," Steve continued. He was using the serious, steady voice he used when he'd prepared his words beforehand and wanted to make sure he was understood. Tony was used to hearing that voice in debriefings or speeches. Not between the two of them. "But I've tried to bring this up before and you don't seem entirely comfortable with the subject. I can respect that, but I need you to talk to me." He spread a palm out on the table and his gaze wavered for a moment. "I'm trying not to take this personally, trying not to make it about me, but you practically run away from me every time I bring it up and it's not exactly flattering, is it? I've seen you, I've seen how you are when you find someone you want and I'm not - I'm not seeing that here, Tony. I know this relationship wasn't your idea, exactly, that I kind of sprung this on you. If a physical relationship isn't something you want with me-"
"Want?" Tony repeated, half incredulous, half sick to his stomach. "Want? Steve, I want you so bad it hurts. I fall asleep wanting you with me, I wake up wishing I could reach for you. I wonder if the rest of you tastes as good as your mouth. Want you?" He reached for Steve's hand. "I pretend it's your hands on me when I get myself off," he confessed, voice rough and catching in the tightness of his throat as he tangled his fingers with Steve's. "I lay there in the dark, pretending it's your hands on my cock, imagining how you'd look kneeling over me." Tony dropped his voice even lower, embarrassed to admit this much, even to Steve, maybe especially to Steve, the only person who'd ever mattered this much. "I try to imagine what you'd feel like inside of me, big and hot and you always start out so slow, so careful of me, but you want me too much and you always take what you need in the end, taking me, filling me until I can't feel anything but you and when I'm done I fucking ache for you-"
Steve was out of his chair and around the table before Tony could finish the sentence, cupping Tony's face with both hands and claiming his mouth in a bruising clash of lips and teeth that pulled the air right out of Tony's lungs. Steve's hands urged him up until Tony was standing, then pulled him in closer, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other flat against his spine, pressing them together from chest to groin. Tony shuddered when Steve pushed their hips together and ground.
Tony scrabbled at Steve's back, fingers clenching against hard muscle until the thin t-shirt stretched and tangled between his fingers. He couldn't stop himself from rocking his hips against Steve's and he practically sobbed against Steve's mouth. "Don't," he gasped into the kiss. "Don't, please, Steve, wait-"
Steve pulled back so abruptly that they both almost lost their balance. Tony fumbled for a grip on the wall beside him, braced himself on shaking legs and tried desperately to keep himself from following Steve. If he so much as touched Steve he'd lose all control and they'd finish what Steve had started, rutting against the refrigerator until they came in their pants. And - not this time. Not for their first time together, not for Steve's first time ever. Steve was better than that, he deserved-
"Sorry," Steve said miserably. He leaned against the refrigerator and let his head drop back with a thud. "Tony, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You've made it clear you aren't ready. But the way you sounded." He dragged in a breath that sounded like he hadn't had air in hours. "The thought of you - thinking of me." He shook his head, closed his eyes as he scrubbed a hand across his face. "It's not an excuse. I'm sorry."
"You're too much," Tony said without thinking. He wanted to be collected here, wanted to stay in control for Steve, but it was impossible to do with Steve panting and disheveled, lips bruised from Tony's kiss, arousal showing clearly in his jeans. Steve wanted him. And maybe being in control was over-rated if it meant making Steve feel unwanted. "You're everything, Steve. I want better for you."
Steve laughed, a little breathless, a little resigned. "This is perfect. You're perfect. It doesn't get better for me, Tony."
Tony rubbed his hands against his thighs, unable to ignore the way Steve watched the movement of his hands with hungry eyes. He could cross the distance between them, cup a hand over Steve's obvious arousal, bring him off right there and Steve would let him, just let him do it, Steve wanted him to do it.
"I didn't want to push you," Tony said, his voice coming out choked and a little needy. "I didn't want you to do it because you felt pressured. I know what I'm like, what my other relationships were like. I know what people say about us. I wanted to wait till you were ready. This is - your first time has to be right, Steve."
"It'll be with you," Steve said. "That's what will make it right."
"You're killing me," Tony said desperately.
Steve laughed, breathless and happy, and he was smiling again, the warm smile he'd worn to greet Tony just a little while ago. "Come here," he urged, holding out a hand. "Come here, let me-" Tony let himself be tugged in close, Steve's arms wrapped around him, pulling them tight against each other. "I can wait," Steve said, pressing a kiss to Tony's hair. "I waited ninety years to find you, I can wait until you think the time is right."
Tony laughed, ducked his head against Steve's shoulder. "Oh, God. No pressure there."
Steve pressed little kisses against the line of Tony's jaw. "You want to talk pressure? This, right here, is the closest thing to experience I've got and I'm trying to seduce Tony Stark."
Tony swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat. "There's no pressure there," he said. "I'm a sure thing, Steve."
Steve's hand was rubbing small, soothing circles against the small of Tony's back. It was helping. Tony's pulse was slowing, his breath evening out. And if he was still hard against Steve's thigh, well, Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed to be similarly afflicted, even. "Really?" Steve teased, nuzzling at Tony's throat. "Tony Stark's never been a sure thing in his entire life."
Tony pulled back a little, looking up to meet Steve's eyes. "For you," he said. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips before he could continue. "For you, I am. I'll always be. I love you, Steve."
Steve's eyes softened and Tony saw brightness there before Steve cupped Tony's chin in his hand and brought their mouths together for a slow, languid kiss. He slid his hand from Tony's chin to stroke the line of his throat and curled his fingers around the back of Tony's neck, holding him closer, kissing him deeper.
When they broke apart for breath, Steve kept his grip on the back of Tony's neck, his other hand still pressed against the small of Tony's back, allowing only the smallest space between them as they gulped in air, chests pressed together. Steve's breath was warm on Tony's mouth. He felt like he could just fit his mouth back over Steve's and breathe from him.
"Tony." Steve said. He touched his forehead to Tony's, tried to catch his breath. He was beautiful and flushed and Tony's breath came a little faster because he had done this, Steve was turned on for him. "Come to bed."
"Mine or yours?" Tony asked a little desperately.
Steve pressed a kiss against his lips. "Yours," he said, and his cheeks were turning bright red. "It's bigger."
"You're sure? It's not even eight o'clock, everyone's going to suspect what we're up to." Tony listened to the words coming out of his mouth and wondered if his brain was trying to kill him. God, he needed Steve to be sure, but he wanted this to happen now.
"Let them suspect," Steve said, and if his face was still turning bright red, his voice was completely sure. "I think everyone already thinks we're doing that anyway."
"If you're sure," Tony said, giving Steve one last chance to change his mind now, before doing so would break parts of Tony he couldn't afford to break. "If you're absolutely sure this is how you want it."
"How I want it?" Steve echoed. "Tony." He stole a kiss from Tony, then another. "If you left it up to me, we'd be naked on the floor right now."
Which was, of course, the exact moment Clint and Peter stumbled into the kitchen in a flailing tangle of arms and legs.
"Oh, jeez! Clint, I warned you!" Peter smacked at Clint's shoulder. "Get off me, Clint, for god's sake." His face was pinker than Steve's and he looked about ten seconds away from dying of embarrassment. "Sorry, Tony, guys. Didn't mean to - I know you needed privacy, but Clint wouldn't - I swear to God I didn't hear a thing." He struggled to pull away from Clint and ended up almost tumbling to the floor. "Clint, for the love of god, move."
"You move," Clint said. "You're the one in the way. Can you see where Stark's other hand is?"
"What? No!"
"Too bad," Clint said, still deliberately fumbling Peter's attempts to get out of the kitchen. "Logan bet me two hundred bucks they haven't started knocking boots yet and I could use the cash."
"Clint," Steve said reprovingly.
Clint was unmoved. "It's practically an Avengers tradition. I lost when it was Hank and Jan. And Thor and Ororo. And Stark and Natasha - no offense meant, Cap."
Steve shrugged.
"If junior here ever gets around to getting a girlfriend, we'll get a bet going on him, too."
"I have a girlfriend," Peter said indignantly.
"Uh-huh," Tony and Clint chorused.
"I hate you all," Peter said.
"Why are we all in the kitchen?" Jan asked, appearing in the doorway and standing on tiptoes to peer over Hawkeye's shoulder. "Is something happening?"
"No," Peter said. "I was just leaving."
"Cap and Stark are winning me two hundred bucks," Clint said.
"We are not," Steve said.
"Not till tonight, at least," Tony agreed.
Clint raised both eyebrows at him while Peter moaned and closed his eyes. "I can never unsee that," Peter said mournfully.
"You should be so lucky," Tony said smugly. "You'll have to settle for your imagination."
Steve sighed. "You're a lucky man," he said, a sentiment with which Tony whole-heartedly agreed. "Because if I did mind our teammates speculating on our love life, I'd be very upset right now."
"Sorry," Tony said automatically. He pressed a kiss against Steve's cheek in apology, but he didn't feel sorry at all. He felt almost ridiculously buzzed from the emotional rollercoaster of the last half hour. Arousal and adrenaline and the way Steve's hand was still rubbing gentle circles into his back all combined to make him feel like he was going to laugh out loud at any moment.
"Jan," Steve said, "Tony and I are taking the rest of the night off. Call us if there's an emergency." And then he won Tony's heart all over again by adding, "But only if it's a big one."
"Not a problem," Jan said. "Everyone needs a night off now and then. Have fun. Details, Tony. I expect details."
Tony flashed an innocent smile at Steve.
Steve sighed and leaned back against the fridge, tugging Tony with him. "You know what? Make it the whole weekend, Jan. And Clint, for god's sake, stop taking video of us with your cell phone. Nothing is happening in this kitchen."
"Anymore," Tony said.
"No, apparently it's all happening this weekend." Clint smirked and turned his phone sideways. "Come on, grab his ass or something. Make it look good. Just warn me first so I can cover my eyes."
"I'm not going to make anything look good for the sake of your bet, Clint."
"Yeah," Tony said, leaning against Steve's chest and resting his head on Steve's shoulder. "You're going to have to sneak around and take pictures of us when our backs are turned just like everyone else."
Steve squeezed the back of his neck gently. "Don't encourage him. And Clint, maybe if you stopped making bets like this, especially with Logan, who can smell pheromones and can tell exactly when someone has been having sex-"
Clint's jaw dropped. "That hairy little bastard's been playing me."
"Like a harmonica," Tony said against Steve's throat and in the subsequent chaos of Clint storming off to kill Logan - or at least beat his six hundred dollars out of him - and Peter trailing along to watch and Jan rolling her eyes and deciding to accompany them just to break it up before Clint got his throat ripped out, they ended up alone again.
They stood there for a long minute, holding each other up and breathing each other in. Then Steve ducked his head for a soft, sweet kiss and said, "Come on. Bed."
****
They separated briefly so Steve could get some things from his room and Tony could shower. It was strangely deliberate and as he shaved, Tony wished for the lustful fumbling of the kitchen, for spontaneity to blame things on if it didn't live up to expectations. He needed this to live up to Steve's expectations. Tony didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't make this good enough for him.
He dropped the razor in the sink and sighed at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't look like the suave, experienced playboy. He looked like a nervous virgin trying to work up some nerve.
"Man up," he told himself, and pulled on his robe.
Steve was waiting for him when he came out, sitting on the edge of Tony's bed. He was still wearing the same clothes and Tony felt strangely vulnerable in just a robe. But Steve's eyes were focused on Tony with an intensity that made his skin warm beneath that gaze and it was easier than it had been a minute ago to just go to him, to stand between Steve's legs and bend his neck for a kiss.
Steve's hands settled at his waist, holding him gently, like he actually thought Tony might move away. His mouth was hot beneath Tony's, his lips wet and slick as Tony kissed them open so he could have Steve's mouth. The desire that had never really faded after the kitchen was flaring to life again, uncurling in his belly, heat pooling in the center of him at just the taste of Steve. "You have to tell me what you want," he said against Steve's mouth. He brushed his thumbs over Steve's cheekbones, touched one to the corner of Steve's eye. "I won't do anything you don't want."
Steve gave Tony a steady look, eyes level and sure. "I want to have you," he said and Tony could feel his toes start to curl in anticipation, his stomach tightened as heat flooded his entire body and then Steve said, "inside of me," and Tony couldn't fucking breathe for the desire that flooded through him.
"You're sure?" he asked. "We can take this slow, if you want."
"I dream about it sometimes," Steve said, stretching up to press his lips against the hollow of Tony's throat. "I wake up feeling empty afterwards, missing something I've never had. I want to have that, Tony."
He'd never undressed Steve before. He'd seen him in various stages of naked; in the gym, the showers, the infirmary, after a battle. But he'd never undressed him himself and Tony's fingers, so careful and precise with circuitry and tools, fumbled with the buckle of Steve's belt, tangled in the buttons of his jeans. And Steve, who'd never done this before, murmured wordless reassurances against Tony's mouth, and stroked his hands up Tony's legs, under the hem of the robe until he could take the length of him in one hand and just hold him, a little hesitant, but so sure in his touch.
Tony's breath stuttered in his chest and he shook as he pushed Steve's jeans down his hips. "Steve," he said, then, "Steve."
Steve brushed his fingers over Tony's hardness before releasing him to stand. Their hands tangled together as they divested Steve of his clothes until Tony's hands were pressed flat against bare skin and Steve was pushing the robe off his shoulders. There was nothing left between them.
"Okay?" he asked, trailing kisses down Steve's throat.
Steve's mouth curled into a smile even as he bared more of his throat to Tony's touch. "Yes, Tony. I'm a virgin. That doesn't mean I'm going to run away screaming at the first sight of your dick."
Tony couldn't help but grin as he licked his way back up Steve's throat. "It's impressive, you know."
"Well, unless it talks, I don't think it's going to send me running from the room."
Tony couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of him and he curled his fingers through Steve's hair and walked them both backwards toward the bed. He pressed Steve down onto the mattress, onto the bed they'd never shared, that god willing Tony would never share with anyone else. "I'll do anything for you," he breathed against Steve's mouth, a promise, a declaration, a warning. "Anything, no matter what. Don't let me ruin this, don't let me do something you don't want." He wasn't talking about sex anymore but Steve seemed to understand.
"It's all right," Steve told him, spreading his legs so Tony could settle between them, only a hint of a blush on his face as he watched Tony unwrap the condom, slick his fingers. "It's okay. I'd do anything for you, too. There's nothing you can do to make me stop."
"Promise," Tony said, because he really is very good at messing things up. He took himself in hand and slicked himself in two fast strokes, unwilling to risk any longer touch. Steve's lips parted and his eyes were locked on Tony's cock like he'd never - but he had never and Tony couldn't deny the tight, hot feeling branding itself into his skin at every glance. He'd be Steve's first. If he did this right, if he was smart, if he was better than he was made to be, he could be Steve's only.
It was so easy to be better than he was meant to be when he was with Steve.
He pressed his face to Steve's thigh, inhaled musk and sweat and arousal, felt the wiry hair against his cheek. He studied Steve's cock for a long moment, listened to Steve's breathing grow faster and more ragged just at this simple intimacy. Part of him wondered if he could get Steve off just by looking at him, but the rest of him didn't think that would be any fun at all so he pressed his lips against the base of Steve's cock, enjoying the way it twitched against his lips, the way Steve's breath caught in his throat.
Steve brushed his fingers against Tony's cheek as he lapped at the head, tasting salt and musk before he gave Steve what they both wanted and opened his mouth, swallowing Steve in one slow slide until Steve's cock was heavy and throbbing on his tongue and Tony's lips were wrapped tight around the base. He heard a sound that might have been a curse and Steve's hand vanished.
He looked up the length of Steve's body and saw Steve staring back at him, eyes glued to Tony's mouth. His hands were fisted in the bedspread, the cloth straining beneath his grip and Tony wanted that strength to be touching him, holding him. Pulling back, he pressed his lips against the head of him in a soft kiss, before parting his lips and letting Steve slip back in.
Steve's hips were moving in the smallest little thrusts. He was obviously trying to control himself and Tony curled a hand around one hip to urge him to stillness even as he pressed a slick finger against him.
"Tony," Steve said, and he sounded like he was strangling, like he couldn't breathe. Tony licked the length of him, curled his tongue around the head before swallowing around him. Steve practically bucked beneath him and Tony took it, held him down with one hand and slid a finger inside of him while Steve said his name over and over again, his voice breaking with each repetition until he was only panting.
Tony held him still, swallowed deliberately as he slowly added a second finger. Steve made a sound like a whimper and Tony had to close his eyes and cling desperately to his own control.
He let Steve's cock slide over his tongue, released it with a wet sound that made Steve groan. "If you tell me to stop," he said, twisting his fingers inside the tight heat of Steve's body, slowly sliding a third in beside them and feeling something like vertigo when Steve opened up to him without a flicker of pain crossing his face.
"Don't you dare," Steve said weakly, but vehemently as he raised his head off the pillow to glare at Tony. "Don't. Don't stop. I want everything, Tony." He unclenched one of his hands from the bedspread and ran his thumb over Tony's lips, kiss-swollen and slick with saliva and Steve's precum. "Give me everything," he demanded, and Tony nipped at his thumb with his teeth.
He fucked Steve with his fingers, sliding in as deep as he could reach. Steve was gasping for breath with each push of Tony's hand and his eyes were starting to glaze over. He was close, and Tony was tempted to have him like this, to make Steve come with his mouth and fingers, to swallow him until he was sated and spent, then make him hard again before he took him. But Steve had only asked for one thing and Tony already knew he was going to have a very, very hard time not giving Steve anything and everything he wanted. And this was never going to be a hardship, not when it was something Tony had been dreaming about.
He pulled his hand away, stretched up to kiss Steve's stomach as he fumbled for more lubricant, slicked himself again, just to be thorough. "Give me your hand, Steve." He let go of Steve's hip, reached for the hand Steve held to him and laced their fingers together as he lined himself up and pressed slowly into Steve.
"Tony," Steve said, soft and low and wondering as his hand tightened around Tony's. His body was hot and tight around Tony's cock, but he yielded so sweetly, relaxed for Tony, let Tony in like he belonged there. Tony bit his lip, closed his eyes as he made himself move slowly, rocking into Steve in gentle thrusts until Steve groaned and shifted his hips, spreading himself wider, letting Tony in deeper, and god, god, Tony's never been given anything so good as this.
He pressed forward until he was in to the hilt and then he paused, waiting, letting Steve adjust to him. Steve is starting to come apart beneath him, his body trembling, his breath coming in faster and faster gasps and his face and chest are flushed. He looks wanton, beautiful, with his eyes hooded but still fixed on Tony and his cock spit-slick and hard against his stomach.
"I love you," Tony said, because it deserved to be said, Steve deserved to hear it as often as he wanted to, as often as Tony could shape the words. "Do you know-" He pulled out slowly, biting his lip as his cock drags out of Steve's body, and pushed back in, a little faster this time, but still slow, still easy. Steve closed around him, tight and hot and waiting for him, and Tony braced himself against the mattress, Steve's fingers still tangled with his, and he thrust again, almost helpless not to. "Do you have any fucking idea-"
"I do," Steve said roughly, and he pulled his hand free of Tony's to wrap his arms around Tony's back. "I do, I know exactly. It's the same, Tony. Please, please-"
"So sweet," Tony breathed, staring down at Steve's eyes. "You're perfect, you're-" He moved, then, long lazy thrusts that Steve's hips rose to meet, "you're perfect, Steve, made for me, you're mine," and he slid a hand between them, took Steve's cock in a loose grip and stroked him in time with the rise and fall of their hips. Steve was gasping, his fingers digging into Tony's shoulders and he'd have nail marks there after, maybe bruises, and he liked that thought. "Don't let me go," he said, and it wasn't what he'd meant to say.
"Tony," Steve said and it was like a heart breaking, like a sun going nova behind Tony's eyes, raw and powerful and almost painful to hear. "I'll never, never let you go."
Tony lost himself at that moment and he blinked against the sweat dripping down his face, dragged air into his lungs. Everything was too much, too raw and he shuddered with every thrust. He stroked Steve faster, hard, needing to feel Steve come apart, needing to wreck Steve the way those six words wrecked him, the way Steve's voice shaping his name made Tony come apart.
He pressed kisses, wet and open-mouthed against Steve's chest and throat, bit down against the muscle of Steve's shoulder, sucking a mark into Steve's skin that would turn purple and last even with Steve's accelerated healing. "Come for me," he said against Steve's skin. "I want to see you spill over my hand, Steve, I want to taste you."
He still wasn't ready for it. The way Steve's body clenched around him, arched to meet his on the next thrust like Steve was trying to get him deeper. Steve shook beneath him and gasped Tony's name as he came.
That was all it took for Tony to follow, both hands on Steve's hips, pulling him as close as possible before he fell, shuddering, after Steve.
****
Sunlight was creeping through the windows when Tony woke, much earlier than he was accustomed to, the next morning. He blinked sleepily at the windows, trying to gauge the time, trying to remember if he needed to be anywhere important.
But Steve was there, reaching across warm, rumpled sheets to tug Tony closer to him. "It's barely sunrise," he murmured, pulling Tony's back against his chest and sliding one arm around to hold him there, his palm curled loosely over the arc reactor. "We have all day."
Tony settled into the warmth of Steve's body against him and slid back into sleep by slow degrees, lulled by Steve's soft caresses and the quiet, almost silent words Steve was whispering into his skin.
Universe: Marvel Adventures
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Warnings: None
Beta: none, feel free to point out any errors
Summary: Tony is corrupting America's paragon of virtue! Because Captain America has surely never even heard of sex, let alone - wait, what?
Previous parts can be found here: Sex, Lies and Newsprint
Sex, Lies and Newsprint: A Year of Cap/Tony Romance As Told By the Tabloids
Part Three: The Kinky Truth!
Superhuman Star
The Kinky Truth! Are Stark's Wild Ways Too Much?
Sex tapes! Bondage! Adult toys! Roleplaying! Billionaire playboy-turned-superhero Tony Stark has done it all at least once and his former lovers have the pictures to prove it. (See page 34 for a selection!) But our sources are telling us that his wealth of experience may be a major turn-off to the new man in his life.
Tony's new beau is as clean-cut and apple-pie as, well, Captain America. Steve Rogers, Tony's old-fashioned new lover, is not a man who walks on the wild side and it's coming between them.
"Tony's very open, sexually," Stark's ex, Roxane Gilbert, tells us. "I don't think there's anything he wouldn't try. As long as everyone's enjoying themselves, he'll give it a shot."
Some of Tony's former lovers remember things a little differently. "It was like he couldn't enjoy himself the regular way," Tiberius Stone, who dated Tony briefly, told us. "He needed the kinky stuff to get into it at all."
"That's not uncommon in situations like this," Doctor Damian Monroe, a sexual therapist who has not treated Tony Stark, tells us. "Men - and women - with a varied sexual background and few if any emotional ties to their partners can find it difficult to achieve satisfaction the traditional way. They end up seeking out newer and more elaborate methods of release and each time the need gets a little stronger and the satisfaction gets a little less. It's not unlike an addiction."
Amidst rumors of sexual addiction, we have to wonder what Tony's new man is making of this.
"He's uncomfortable," an inside source tells us. "Steve's basically an old-fashioned guy. Even some of the tamer stuff is risqué to him."
Is a man born in the 1920s ready for a relationship involving handcuffs, sex toys and safe words? A relationship with another man, no less, a relationship which was not only frowned upon but actually illegal back in his day?
"That is a lot of change to adjust to at once," Dr. Monroe explained. "Even in this day and age, there is a lot of sexual inhibition, a lot of stigma attached to sex. Any sexual activity, no matter how mild or tame can be considered embarrassing or even shameful and that's an attitude it takes a great deal of time and effort to escape. I would suggest that Mr. Rogers not participate in anything that he is not 100% comfortable with, and consider seeking out a sexual therapist if his discomfort affects his sex life in a detrimental way."
But Steve may feel pressure to participate in the lifestyle whether he's ready or not. "Tony's a guy who gets what he wants," former Stark flame Indries Moomji told us. "And if he can't get it from you, he'll get it from someone else."
Ominous words - and ones likely to spell the end of this relatively new relationship. "Cap's not going to get into anything he thinks is immoral," our insider tells us, "and Tony's not known for being especially forgiving of people who tell him 'no'."
****
He was getting old, Tony thought. There was just nothing else to it. Once upon a time he'd been able to pull all-nighters in the workshop, run Stark Industries, romance a beautiful woman and still have energy left over to save the world. Usually all while drunk. Now he was sober, celibate and fucking exhausted and it hadn't even been three full days since he last slept.
Old, he repeated to himself, rolling the idea around in his mind as he rode the elevator from his workshop to the living quarters above. Not even thirty-five yet and he was already old. It didn't seem fair. Hank McCoy was older than Tony and he wasn't old. Hank Pym wasn't old. Carol Danvers wasn't old. Reed Richards - well, Reed had been born old, but Sue Richards was looking damned good at this age. Steve. Steve was pushing ninety and he wasn't old.
Steve was the opposite of old. He was young and energetic, full of vibrancy and intensity. He made Tony feel like a decade and a half of loneliness could disappear just by standing at Tony's side.
He could also bring the dead back to life, Tony reflected ruefully as his cock twitched at the thought of Steve's vibrancy. He pressed the heel of his hand against his lower stomach and tried to think unarousing thoughts. Three months of celibacy was a long dry spell for Tony - he hadn't gone so long without since he'd stopped drinking. He missed sex just as much as he'd expected to, but…
There were compensations.
Steve's fingers in his hair. Tony's hands on Steve's waist. The taste of Steve's mouth. Things Tony had never thought he could have, things that were, in a strange, but satisfying way, more important than sex.
Old, Tony thought again as his body slowly obeyed his command. So very old. And sappy.
The elevator came to a stop and he shuffled out as the doors slid open. It was late in the evening and the front hall was dim, the night creeping in the windows and the only light seeping out from beneath the kitchen door. It seemed terribly lonely all of a sudden and even though his isolation in the workshop had been entirely self-imposed he had the intense desire for company.
And coffee. Oh, so much coffee. Then bed and a shower. He ran a hand through his hair and reconsidered. Shower. Then bed.
He swallowed a yawn as he pushed open the kitchen door and walked into the light. The kitchen smelled like bread and cheese and a half dozen other mouth-watering scents, and the sounds of Peter and Steve's idle conversation washed over Tony like a wave, leaving him feeling oddly off-center at the sudden presence of other people. Old, he decided. He'd gone longer than three days without company before, but he wasn't used to it anymore.
Steve looked up as he entered and the smile that crossed his lips was small and pleased and made Tony feel like he'd vanquished a supervillain just by walking in the door.
"Hey," Tony said intelligently, blinking at Steve and trying to remember what he'd come in there for.
"Hey yourself," Steve said. His eyes crinkled a little in amusement as he pushed his chair back from the table. "I was starting to think we were going to have to send a team in after you."
He'd asked not to be disturbed when he vanished into the workshop, but he'd known he'd only be able to get away with that for so long before Steve or Pepper came down after him, if only to make sure he hadn't forgotten to eat for three days straight. Which, in Tony's defense, he hadn't. Not completely. He'd had a power bar in there somewhere, he was pretty sure.
"No, I ah-" Tony gestured toward the counter. "I ran out of coffee."
"And here I thought you missed me," Steve teased.
Tony was too tired to be disingenuous, and just awake enough to realize that might be a bad thing. "I missed you the first hour."
Steve's expression softened as he stood from this chair. "Come here." He held out a hand as he walked around the table and Tony went willingly. Steve's hand curled around his arm and tugged him toward an empty chair. Tony let himself be manhandled into sitting and had to resist the urge to lay his head down on the table and fall asleep right there.
"You look like crap," Peter told him cheerfully, shoveling a spoonful of Jarvis's homemade macaroni and cheese in his mouth. "Clint bet me fifty bucks you'd died down there and we wouldn't know until your corpse started stinking up the place."
Steve made a displeased sound that had Peter ducking his head like a schoolboy. "I bet him you'd just forget to eat and come out when you were hungry." He shot a glance at Steve and leaned across the table toward Tony to add, "You totally look like a zombie, though. You sure you didn't die down there?"
Tony narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know I am stunning and nothing like a zombie."
"You're very pretty," Steve said. He set a mug of coffee down on the table in front of Tony.
Tony took it in both hands and dragged in a deep breath. "Oh, God, that's amazing."
"Coffeegasm," Peter said. "Should I leave you and the cup alone?"
Tony managed to flip him off without letting go of the mug and downed half the coffee in three long, uninterrupted swallows. Steve knew him too well, he thought. Agave, no milk or sugar and it wasn't so hot that he burned his mouth. Pepper must have coached him.
"That's the stuff," he said, slumping back in his chair with a sigh.
Steve's fingers combed through his hair and Tony turned his head into the touch. This, this, he'd missed this for three days. No calloused fingers against his skin, no strong hands cupping his face, no arms pulling him into a kiss. For three nights he'd broken down the repulsors in the backup armors down to their circuits and upgraded them piece by piece instead of sprawling on the couch with Steve's chest pressed against his back as they bickered over what to watch. For three days he'd worked on making sure the updated JARVIS interfaces would be compatible with the older armors, just in case he needed them one day. And it had been necessary work, important work, but he could have been having lunch with Steve at an outdoor café, or challenging him to a basketball game, or letting Steve drag him to the art festival in the park that he'd been talking about all week.
"Missed you," he sighed against Steve's wrist.
Steve sighed against his hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I missed you, too," he said, and there was nothing grudging in his voice, for all that Tony had basically exiled himself to the workshop and ordered Steve not to follow. Tony felt kind of guilty about that. There had probably been a better way to handle that. Steve ran his hand through Tony's hair again before he reclaimed his seat.
Tony eyed the remains of Steve's dinner until Steve huffed a small laugh and pushed the plate across the table at him. Macaroni and cheese, baked ham, steamed broccoli. Tony closed his eyes and made a mental note to make allowances for any interruptions that involved Jarvis's cooking the next time he exiled himself. "Did I miss anything?"
Steve shook his head.
"Just the Wrecking Crew," Peter said around a mouthful of ham. "Got it into their heads to start wrecking banks, but they kind of suck at it. Hulk and I dealt with it. Most of them are in lockup now. Except the ones Hulk squeezed too hard, but they'll be fine."
They settled into a companionable kind of silence as Tony devoured the rest of Steve's dinner. He finished off the coffee and Steve pressed a glass of green juice into his hand instead of a refill. It tasted a little more strongly of carrots than Tony generally liked, but after the first sip he suddenly realized how thirsty he was and drained the rest of the glass.
He felt a lot better for having eaten and he leaned back in the chair and gave Steve a small smile.
Steve slid a glass of water across the table at him with an expression that said Tony should drink all of it without complaint. "Listen, we should probably talk."
Tony was still feeling too comfortable in the bright kitchen to get nervous over the world's most ominous conversation-starter coming out of Steve's mouth. "About what?"
"About the fact that you keep turning me down for sex."
"Well, I'm done eating," Peter announced, pushing his plate away and thumping his head down onto the table. "Possibly forever."
Tony blinked at Steve, trying to anticipate the joke, but Steve's expression was serious, his eyes a little sad. Without looking away, Tony set his glass down on the table very carefully. "Peter, give us a minute, would you?"
"I can do that," Peter said, "I can give you several minutes. I can give you as many minutes as you want." His gaze flickered from Tony to Steve's face and back again, and he actually looked worried. It was sweet. Hopefully unnecessary, but sweet. "Just - yeah. I'll make sure you guys get some privacy for a bit."
Tony waited until the door had closed behind Peter before he licked his lips and realized he had no idea what to say. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm not trying to be pushy," Steve said slowly.
"No," Tony said quickly. "I'm not - I don't get pushy from you at all."
"And I'm not trying to pressure you into anything," Steve continued. He was using the serious, steady voice he used when he'd prepared his words beforehand and wanted to make sure he was understood. Tony was used to hearing that voice in debriefings or speeches. Not between the two of them. "But I've tried to bring this up before and you don't seem entirely comfortable with the subject. I can respect that, but I need you to talk to me." He spread a palm out on the table and his gaze wavered for a moment. "I'm trying not to take this personally, trying not to make it about me, but you practically run away from me every time I bring it up and it's not exactly flattering, is it? I've seen you, I've seen how you are when you find someone you want and I'm not - I'm not seeing that here, Tony. I know this relationship wasn't your idea, exactly, that I kind of sprung this on you. If a physical relationship isn't something you want with me-"
"Want?" Tony repeated, half incredulous, half sick to his stomach. "Want? Steve, I want you so bad it hurts. I fall asleep wanting you with me, I wake up wishing I could reach for you. I wonder if the rest of you tastes as good as your mouth. Want you?" He reached for Steve's hand. "I pretend it's your hands on me when I get myself off," he confessed, voice rough and catching in the tightness of his throat as he tangled his fingers with Steve's. "I lay there in the dark, pretending it's your hands on my cock, imagining how you'd look kneeling over me." Tony dropped his voice even lower, embarrassed to admit this much, even to Steve, maybe especially to Steve, the only person who'd ever mattered this much. "I try to imagine what you'd feel like inside of me, big and hot and you always start out so slow, so careful of me, but you want me too much and you always take what you need in the end, taking me, filling me until I can't feel anything but you and when I'm done I fucking ache for you-"
Steve was out of his chair and around the table before Tony could finish the sentence, cupping Tony's face with both hands and claiming his mouth in a bruising clash of lips and teeth that pulled the air right out of Tony's lungs. Steve's hands urged him up until Tony was standing, then pulled him in closer, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other flat against his spine, pressing them together from chest to groin. Tony shuddered when Steve pushed their hips together and ground.
Tony scrabbled at Steve's back, fingers clenching against hard muscle until the thin t-shirt stretched and tangled between his fingers. He couldn't stop himself from rocking his hips against Steve's and he practically sobbed against Steve's mouth. "Don't," he gasped into the kiss. "Don't, please, Steve, wait-"
Steve pulled back so abruptly that they both almost lost their balance. Tony fumbled for a grip on the wall beside him, braced himself on shaking legs and tried desperately to keep himself from following Steve. If he so much as touched Steve he'd lose all control and they'd finish what Steve had started, rutting against the refrigerator until they came in their pants. And - not this time. Not for their first time together, not for Steve's first time ever. Steve was better than that, he deserved-
"Sorry," Steve said miserably. He leaned against the refrigerator and let his head drop back with a thud. "Tony, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You've made it clear you aren't ready. But the way you sounded." He dragged in a breath that sounded like he hadn't had air in hours. "The thought of you - thinking of me." He shook his head, closed his eyes as he scrubbed a hand across his face. "It's not an excuse. I'm sorry."
"You're too much," Tony said without thinking. He wanted to be collected here, wanted to stay in control for Steve, but it was impossible to do with Steve panting and disheveled, lips bruised from Tony's kiss, arousal showing clearly in his jeans. Steve wanted him. And maybe being in control was over-rated if it meant making Steve feel unwanted. "You're everything, Steve. I want better for you."
Steve laughed, a little breathless, a little resigned. "This is perfect. You're perfect. It doesn't get better for me, Tony."
Tony rubbed his hands against his thighs, unable to ignore the way Steve watched the movement of his hands with hungry eyes. He could cross the distance between them, cup a hand over Steve's obvious arousal, bring him off right there and Steve would let him, just let him do it, Steve wanted him to do it.
"I didn't want to push you," Tony said, his voice coming out choked and a little needy. "I didn't want you to do it because you felt pressured. I know what I'm like, what my other relationships were like. I know what people say about us. I wanted to wait till you were ready. This is - your first time has to be right, Steve."
"It'll be with you," Steve said. "That's what will make it right."
"You're killing me," Tony said desperately.
Steve laughed, breathless and happy, and he was smiling again, the warm smile he'd worn to greet Tony just a little while ago. "Come here," he urged, holding out a hand. "Come here, let me-" Tony let himself be tugged in close, Steve's arms wrapped around him, pulling them tight against each other. "I can wait," Steve said, pressing a kiss to Tony's hair. "I waited ninety years to find you, I can wait until you think the time is right."
Tony laughed, ducked his head against Steve's shoulder. "Oh, God. No pressure there."
Steve pressed little kisses against the line of Tony's jaw. "You want to talk pressure? This, right here, is the closest thing to experience I've got and I'm trying to seduce Tony Stark."
Tony swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat. "There's no pressure there," he said. "I'm a sure thing, Steve."
Steve's hand was rubbing small, soothing circles against the small of Tony's back. It was helping. Tony's pulse was slowing, his breath evening out. And if he was still hard against Steve's thigh, well, Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed to be similarly afflicted, even. "Really?" Steve teased, nuzzling at Tony's throat. "Tony Stark's never been a sure thing in his entire life."
Tony pulled back a little, looking up to meet Steve's eyes. "For you," he said. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips before he could continue. "For you, I am. I'll always be. I love you, Steve."
Steve's eyes softened and Tony saw brightness there before Steve cupped Tony's chin in his hand and brought their mouths together for a slow, languid kiss. He slid his hand from Tony's chin to stroke the line of his throat and curled his fingers around the back of Tony's neck, holding him closer, kissing him deeper.
When they broke apart for breath, Steve kept his grip on the back of Tony's neck, his other hand still pressed against the small of Tony's back, allowing only the smallest space between them as they gulped in air, chests pressed together. Steve's breath was warm on Tony's mouth. He felt like he could just fit his mouth back over Steve's and breathe from him.
"Tony." Steve said. He touched his forehead to Tony's, tried to catch his breath. He was beautiful and flushed and Tony's breath came a little faster because he had done this, Steve was turned on for him. "Come to bed."
"Mine or yours?" Tony asked a little desperately.
Steve pressed a kiss against his lips. "Yours," he said, and his cheeks were turning bright red. "It's bigger."
"You're sure? It's not even eight o'clock, everyone's going to suspect what we're up to." Tony listened to the words coming out of his mouth and wondered if his brain was trying to kill him. God, he needed Steve to be sure, but he wanted this to happen now.
"Let them suspect," Steve said, and if his face was still turning bright red, his voice was completely sure. "I think everyone already thinks we're doing that anyway."
"If you're sure," Tony said, giving Steve one last chance to change his mind now, before doing so would break parts of Tony he couldn't afford to break. "If you're absolutely sure this is how you want it."
"How I want it?" Steve echoed. "Tony." He stole a kiss from Tony, then another. "If you left it up to me, we'd be naked on the floor right now."
Which was, of course, the exact moment Clint and Peter stumbled into the kitchen in a flailing tangle of arms and legs.
"Oh, jeez! Clint, I warned you!" Peter smacked at Clint's shoulder. "Get off me, Clint, for god's sake." His face was pinker than Steve's and he looked about ten seconds away from dying of embarrassment. "Sorry, Tony, guys. Didn't mean to - I know you needed privacy, but Clint wouldn't - I swear to God I didn't hear a thing." He struggled to pull away from Clint and ended up almost tumbling to the floor. "Clint, for the love of god, move."
"You move," Clint said. "You're the one in the way. Can you see where Stark's other hand is?"
"What? No!"
"Too bad," Clint said, still deliberately fumbling Peter's attempts to get out of the kitchen. "Logan bet me two hundred bucks they haven't started knocking boots yet and I could use the cash."
"Clint," Steve said reprovingly.
Clint was unmoved. "It's practically an Avengers tradition. I lost when it was Hank and Jan. And Thor and Ororo. And Stark and Natasha - no offense meant, Cap."
Steve shrugged.
"If junior here ever gets around to getting a girlfriend, we'll get a bet going on him, too."
"I have a girlfriend," Peter said indignantly.
"Uh-huh," Tony and Clint chorused.
"I hate you all," Peter said.
"Why are we all in the kitchen?" Jan asked, appearing in the doorway and standing on tiptoes to peer over Hawkeye's shoulder. "Is something happening?"
"No," Peter said. "I was just leaving."
"Cap and Stark are winning me two hundred bucks," Clint said.
"We are not," Steve said.
"Not till tonight, at least," Tony agreed.
Clint raised both eyebrows at him while Peter moaned and closed his eyes. "I can never unsee that," Peter said mournfully.
"You should be so lucky," Tony said smugly. "You'll have to settle for your imagination."
Steve sighed. "You're a lucky man," he said, a sentiment with which Tony whole-heartedly agreed. "Because if I did mind our teammates speculating on our love life, I'd be very upset right now."
"Sorry," Tony said automatically. He pressed a kiss against Steve's cheek in apology, but he didn't feel sorry at all. He felt almost ridiculously buzzed from the emotional rollercoaster of the last half hour. Arousal and adrenaline and the way Steve's hand was still rubbing gentle circles into his back all combined to make him feel like he was going to laugh out loud at any moment.
"Jan," Steve said, "Tony and I are taking the rest of the night off. Call us if there's an emergency." And then he won Tony's heart all over again by adding, "But only if it's a big one."
"Not a problem," Jan said. "Everyone needs a night off now and then. Have fun. Details, Tony. I expect details."
Tony flashed an innocent smile at Steve.
Steve sighed and leaned back against the fridge, tugging Tony with him. "You know what? Make it the whole weekend, Jan. And Clint, for god's sake, stop taking video of us with your cell phone. Nothing is happening in this kitchen."
"Anymore," Tony said.
"No, apparently it's all happening this weekend." Clint smirked and turned his phone sideways. "Come on, grab his ass or something. Make it look good. Just warn me first so I can cover my eyes."
"I'm not going to make anything look good for the sake of your bet, Clint."
"Yeah," Tony said, leaning against Steve's chest and resting his head on Steve's shoulder. "You're going to have to sneak around and take pictures of us when our backs are turned just like everyone else."
Steve squeezed the back of his neck gently. "Don't encourage him. And Clint, maybe if you stopped making bets like this, especially with Logan, who can smell pheromones and can tell exactly when someone has been having sex-"
Clint's jaw dropped. "That hairy little bastard's been playing me."
"Like a harmonica," Tony said against Steve's throat and in the subsequent chaos of Clint storming off to kill Logan - or at least beat his six hundred dollars out of him - and Peter trailing along to watch and Jan rolling her eyes and deciding to accompany them just to break it up before Clint got his throat ripped out, they ended up alone again.
They stood there for a long minute, holding each other up and breathing each other in. Then Steve ducked his head for a soft, sweet kiss and said, "Come on. Bed."
****
They separated briefly so Steve could get some things from his room and Tony could shower. It was strangely deliberate and as he shaved, Tony wished for the lustful fumbling of the kitchen, for spontaneity to blame things on if it didn't live up to expectations. He needed this to live up to Steve's expectations. Tony didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't make this good enough for him.
He dropped the razor in the sink and sighed at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't look like the suave, experienced playboy. He looked like a nervous virgin trying to work up some nerve.
"Man up," he told himself, and pulled on his robe.
Steve was waiting for him when he came out, sitting on the edge of Tony's bed. He was still wearing the same clothes and Tony felt strangely vulnerable in just a robe. But Steve's eyes were focused on Tony with an intensity that made his skin warm beneath that gaze and it was easier than it had been a minute ago to just go to him, to stand between Steve's legs and bend his neck for a kiss.
Steve's hands settled at his waist, holding him gently, like he actually thought Tony might move away. His mouth was hot beneath Tony's, his lips wet and slick as Tony kissed them open so he could have Steve's mouth. The desire that had never really faded after the kitchen was flaring to life again, uncurling in his belly, heat pooling in the center of him at just the taste of Steve. "You have to tell me what you want," he said against Steve's mouth. He brushed his thumbs over Steve's cheekbones, touched one to the corner of Steve's eye. "I won't do anything you don't want."
Steve gave Tony a steady look, eyes level and sure. "I want to have you," he said and Tony could feel his toes start to curl in anticipation, his stomach tightened as heat flooded his entire body and then Steve said, "inside of me," and Tony couldn't fucking breathe for the desire that flooded through him.
"You're sure?" he asked. "We can take this slow, if you want."
"I dream about it sometimes," Steve said, stretching up to press his lips against the hollow of Tony's throat. "I wake up feeling empty afterwards, missing something I've never had. I want to have that, Tony."
He'd never undressed Steve before. He'd seen him in various stages of naked; in the gym, the showers, the infirmary, after a battle. But he'd never undressed him himself and Tony's fingers, so careful and precise with circuitry and tools, fumbled with the buckle of Steve's belt, tangled in the buttons of his jeans. And Steve, who'd never done this before, murmured wordless reassurances against Tony's mouth, and stroked his hands up Tony's legs, under the hem of the robe until he could take the length of him in one hand and just hold him, a little hesitant, but so sure in his touch.
Tony's breath stuttered in his chest and he shook as he pushed Steve's jeans down his hips. "Steve," he said, then, "Steve."
Steve brushed his fingers over Tony's hardness before releasing him to stand. Their hands tangled together as they divested Steve of his clothes until Tony's hands were pressed flat against bare skin and Steve was pushing the robe off his shoulders. There was nothing left between them.
"Okay?" he asked, trailing kisses down Steve's throat.
Steve's mouth curled into a smile even as he bared more of his throat to Tony's touch. "Yes, Tony. I'm a virgin. That doesn't mean I'm going to run away screaming at the first sight of your dick."
Tony couldn't help but grin as he licked his way back up Steve's throat. "It's impressive, you know."
"Well, unless it talks, I don't think it's going to send me running from the room."
Tony couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of him and he curled his fingers through Steve's hair and walked them both backwards toward the bed. He pressed Steve down onto the mattress, onto the bed they'd never shared, that god willing Tony would never share with anyone else. "I'll do anything for you," he breathed against Steve's mouth, a promise, a declaration, a warning. "Anything, no matter what. Don't let me ruin this, don't let me do something you don't want." He wasn't talking about sex anymore but Steve seemed to understand.
"It's all right," Steve told him, spreading his legs so Tony could settle between them, only a hint of a blush on his face as he watched Tony unwrap the condom, slick his fingers. "It's okay. I'd do anything for you, too. There's nothing you can do to make me stop."
"Promise," Tony said, because he really is very good at messing things up. He took himself in hand and slicked himself in two fast strokes, unwilling to risk any longer touch. Steve's lips parted and his eyes were locked on Tony's cock like he'd never - but he had never and Tony couldn't deny the tight, hot feeling branding itself into his skin at every glance. He'd be Steve's first. If he did this right, if he was smart, if he was better than he was made to be, he could be Steve's only.
It was so easy to be better than he was meant to be when he was with Steve.
He pressed his face to Steve's thigh, inhaled musk and sweat and arousal, felt the wiry hair against his cheek. He studied Steve's cock for a long moment, listened to Steve's breathing grow faster and more ragged just at this simple intimacy. Part of him wondered if he could get Steve off just by looking at him, but the rest of him didn't think that would be any fun at all so he pressed his lips against the base of Steve's cock, enjoying the way it twitched against his lips, the way Steve's breath caught in his throat.
Steve brushed his fingers against Tony's cheek as he lapped at the head, tasting salt and musk before he gave Steve what they both wanted and opened his mouth, swallowing Steve in one slow slide until Steve's cock was heavy and throbbing on his tongue and Tony's lips were wrapped tight around the base. He heard a sound that might have been a curse and Steve's hand vanished.
He looked up the length of Steve's body and saw Steve staring back at him, eyes glued to Tony's mouth. His hands were fisted in the bedspread, the cloth straining beneath his grip and Tony wanted that strength to be touching him, holding him. Pulling back, he pressed his lips against the head of him in a soft kiss, before parting his lips and letting Steve slip back in.
Steve's hips were moving in the smallest little thrusts. He was obviously trying to control himself and Tony curled a hand around one hip to urge him to stillness even as he pressed a slick finger against him.
"Tony," Steve said, and he sounded like he was strangling, like he couldn't breathe. Tony licked the length of him, curled his tongue around the head before swallowing around him. Steve practically bucked beneath him and Tony took it, held him down with one hand and slid a finger inside of him while Steve said his name over and over again, his voice breaking with each repetition until he was only panting.
Tony held him still, swallowed deliberately as he slowly added a second finger. Steve made a sound like a whimper and Tony had to close his eyes and cling desperately to his own control.
He let Steve's cock slide over his tongue, released it with a wet sound that made Steve groan. "If you tell me to stop," he said, twisting his fingers inside the tight heat of Steve's body, slowly sliding a third in beside them and feeling something like vertigo when Steve opened up to him without a flicker of pain crossing his face.
"Don't you dare," Steve said weakly, but vehemently as he raised his head off the pillow to glare at Tony. "Don't. Don't stop. I want everything, Tony." He unclenched one of his hands from the bedspread and ran his thumb over Tony's lips, kiss-swollen and slick with saliva and Steve's precum. "Give me everything," he demanded, and Tony nipped at his thumb with his teeth.
He fucked Steve with his fingers, sliding in as deep as he could reach. Steve was gasping for breath with each push of Tony's hand and his eyes were starting to glaze over. He was close, and Tony was tempted to have him like this, to make Steve come with his mouth and fingers, to swallow him until he was sated and spent, then make him hard again before he took him. But Steve had only asked for one thing and Tony already knew he was going to have a very, very hard time not giving Steve anything and everything he wanted. And this was never going to be a hardship, not when it was something Tony had been dreaming about.
He pulled his hand away, stretched up to kiss Steve's stomach as he fumbled for more lubricant, slicked himself again, just to be thorough. "Give me your hand, Steve." He let go of Steve's hip, reached for the hand Steve held to him and laced their fingers together as he lined himself up and pressed slowly into Steve.
"Tony," Steve said, soft and low and wondering as his hand tightened around Tony's. His body was hot and tight around Tony's cock, but he yielded so sweetly, relaxed for Tony, let Tony in like he belonged there. Tony bit his lip, closed his eyes as he made himself move slowly, rocking into Steve in gentle thrusts until Steve groaned and shifted his hips, spreading himself wider, letting Tony in deeper, and god, god, Tony's never been given anything so good as this.
He pressed forward until he was in to the hilt and then he paused, waiting, letting Steve adjust to him. Steve is starting to come apart beneath him, his body trembling, his breath coming in faster and faster gasps and his face and chest are flushed. He looks wanton, beautiful, with his eyes hooded but still fixed on Tony and his cock spit-slick and hard against his stomach.
"I love you," Tony said, because it deserved to be said, Steve deserved to hear it as often as he wanted to, as often as Tony could shape the words. "Do you know-" He pulled out slowly, biting his lip as his cock drags out of Steve's body, and pushed back in, a little faster this time, but still slow, still easy. Steve closed around him, tight and hot and waiting for him, and Tony braced himself against the mattress, Steve's fingers still tangled with his, and he thrust again, almost helpless not to. "Do you have any fucking idea-"
"I do," Steve said roughly, and he pulled his hand free of Tony's to wrap his arms around Tony's back. "I do, I know exactly. It's the same, Tony. Please, please-"
"So sweet," Tony breathed, staring down at Steve's eyes. "You're perfect, you're-" He moved, then, long lazy thrusts that Steve's hips rose to meet, "you're perfect, Steve, made for me, you're mine," and he slid a hand between them, took Steve's cock in a loose grip and stroked him in time with the rise and fall of their hips. Steve was gasping, his fingers digging into Tony's shoulders and he'd have nail marks there after, maybe bruises, and he liked that thought. "Don't let me go," he said, and it wasn't what he'd meant to say.
"Tony," Steve said and it was like a heart breaking, like a sun going nova behind Tony's eyes, raw and powerful and almost painful to hear. "I'll never, never let you go."
Tony lost himself at that moment and he blinked against the sweat dripping down his face, dragged air into his lungs. Everything was too much, too raw and he shuddered with every thrust. He stroked Steve faster, hard, needing to feel Steve come apart, needing to wreck Steve the way those six words wrecked him, the way Steve's voice shaping his name made Tony come apart.
He pressed kisses, wet and open-mouthed against Steve's chest and throat, bit down against the muscle of Steve's shoulder, sucking a mark into Steve's skin that would turn purple and last even with Steve's accelerated healing. "Come for me," he said against Steve's skin. "I want to see you spill over my hand, Steve, I want to taste you."
He still wasn't ready for it. The way Steve's body clenched around him, arched to meet his on the next thrust like Steve was trying to get him deeper. Steve shook beneath him and gasped Tony's name as he came.
That was all it took for Tony to follow, both hands on Steve's hips, pulling him as close as possible before he fell, shuddering, after Steve.
****
Sunlight was creeping through the windows when Tony woke, much earlier than he was accustomed to, the next morning. He blinked sleepily at the windows, trying to gauge the time, trying to remember if he needed to be anywhere important.
But Steve was there, reaching across warm, rumpled sheets to tug Tony closer to him. "It's barely sunrise," he murmured, pulling Tony's back against his chest and sliding one arm around to hold him there, his palm curled loosely over the arc reactor. "We have all day."
Tony settled into the warmth of Steve's body against him and slid back into sleep by slow degrees, lulled by Steve's soft caresses and the quiet, almost silent words Steve was whispering into his skin.