(no subject)
Marvel: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (mostly movieverse). R for sex. 3300 words.
Summary: If Tony were Nick Fury, he’d probably also be wary of how enthusiastically Tony agreed to make a custom communicator for Steve. Tony accidentally finds one of Steve’s erogenous zones.
Notes: Thanks to splintercat for beta reading and reccing me All The Steve/Tony and being beautiful.
Steve has weird ears, Tony decides. He can’t use earbuds, they always just fall out, so when he goes running he used to wear those cheap flat disc-shaped ones that hook over the tops of his ears even though Tony offered to give him a slim high-fidelity Starktech pair. (Tony finally stole the cheap flat ones and replaced them with his own. Steve said nothing; Tony assumes he couldn’t find the words to express his gratitude.) His in-helmet communicator needed some adjustment, too, when Tony swapped out all the Avengers’ S.H.I.E.L.D. technology for his own products. Tony added high-decibel noise canceling to the communicators, so their ears wouldn’t ring after explosions, but for some reason even though his tech was still smaller than the S.H.I.E.L.D. model, it wasn’t working for Steve.
If Tony were Nick Fury, he’d probably also be wary of how enthusiastically Tony agreed to make a custom communicator for Steve. In Tony’s defense, even if Fury has ever seen Steve shirtless and shining with sweat after a training session, Fury is probably asexual anyway, so he can’t understand Tony’s feelings on the matter.
Steve sits down in the spare chair in Tony’s workshop. He is wearing a close-fitting white t-shirt and Tony finds it difficult to actually believe Steve is a real person who really has those abs. And those arms. His jeans fit a little too loosely for Tony’s taste but Tony’s imagination is great and he likes what he’s imagining. He realizes halfway through the action that he is actually licking his lips. Tony clears his throat and rolls his chair up next to Steve’s. The putty he has been absently playing with is warm in his hands.
“Okay, I’m just going to use this to make a mold of your ear so I can fit the new communicator directly to you,” Tony says, edging his chair close enough for his thigh to touch Steve’s. Steve twitches slightly when Tony’s hands touch the side of his head. His hair is fine and soft. He twitches again when Tony braces the heel of his hand on his jaw (smooth-shaven, of course), but when Tony’s fingers brush his earlobe he goes curiously tense and still. Even his jaw clenches. Tony molds the putty to the delicate notch of cartilage below Steve’s ear canal. He lightly brushes the earlobe again and Steve actually makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Tony’s eyes narrow. Steve is blushing a little and his hands are curled into fists. His breathing is quicker and shallower than it was before.
Tony is an expert so there is no doubt in his mind: Steve is definitely aroused.
“That’s it,” Tony says as he finishes. He removes the putty but doesn’t move away from Steve. Steve tries to relax a little, he uncurls his fists and takes a slightly deeper breath, but his skin is still flushed and when he glances at Tony his pupils are wide. He clears his throat.
“Thanks, I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
Tony shrugs. “No trouble at all.” He would swear that he didn’t mean for his voice to be so low and breathy. And then, in a moment of reckless idiocy, he leans over Steve’s lap to put the putty on one of his tables. He hears Steve’s breath hitch. Steve is warm, his body radiates heat, and he smells mostly like clean laundry. Tony finds it a little difficult to draw back and once he does he isn’t sure what to do with his hands.
“I, um, I should probably be. Going. Now,” Steve says.
Tony snaps out of it and uses his heels to propel his chair backwards, away from Steve. “Right, absolutely, things to do, all that,” he hears himself babble. “Work. Et cetera.”
Steve leaves the workshop a little more frantically than Tony thinks is strictly necessary.
* * *
Tony finishes the communicator in a few hours (fitting it into the helmet had been the most exhaustive part of the process, but when he asked Fury if he could just redesign the helmet Fury had actually hung up on him and had picked up the three following calls on the first ring just to hang up on Tony again, which Tony thought was a little unnecessary) but Pepper forces him to attend several hideously boring shareholder meetings and Steve has one of Fury’s cultural experience sessions that evening so it isn’t until the next day that Steve can come back to test out the new communicator.
“You weren’t at the debriefing this morning,” Steve tells Tony from the doorway of the workshop.
“It’s not a debriefing if you have one every day,” Tony replies. He’s spent all morning trying to make the Iron Man suit’s gloves smaller, so he can do more delicate work with his fingers, without sacrificing strength. It’s a frustrating task. “What are you being debriefed on every day, anyway, what you ate for breakfast?”
“It’s more of a-”
“Team bonding, I know.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to put it like that,” Steve says, somewhat cattily, Tony thinks. But he looks up and Steve is smiling at him, wide and genuine, and Tony can’t help but smile back.
Tony tosses the helmet to Steve and Steve tries it on, fitting it snugly to his head and pressing two fingers over where the new communicator lies. “How is it?” Tony asks, even though he knows the answer. He crosses the room to stand in front of Steve, arms folded across his chest.
“It’s great, it barely even feels like there’s anything there,” Steve says, clearly impressed.
“There’s a little surprise, too. Jarvis, lights,” Tony says, and as soon as the fluorescents in the shop flicker off, slim night vision lenses slip down from inside the helmet and lock in place in front of Steve’s eyes. “And again.” And as soon as the lights begin to come back up, the lenses are gone. Tony allows himself a moment to be proud; Steve looks awed and thrilled, a pretty charming expression in combination with his ill-fitting light blue button-down and his Captain America helmet. “We can also do bulletproof anti-glare glass when the night vision isn’t in effect, if you’d like. Of course, it’ll probably take me another day or two but-”
“Tony, this is amazing, but I don’t want to - I mean, you must have other things-” But Steve is taking the helmet off and handing it back to Tony, who hands it to Dummy.
“Steve, Steve, please. This is Tony Stark you’re talking to here. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen,” Tony says with a flash of his glamour grin. “Also,” he adds, now entirely serious, “please tell me you want a new wardrobe, because seriously this shirt is killing me. Where did you get this?” He plucks at it near Steve’s waist and it actually flutters around Steve’s body without, Tony thinks, actually touching him at all. “You know what, don’t even tell me. It’ll just make me sad. This shirt is an insult to your perfect physique.”
Steve blushes at that, and Tony is briefly curious as to how it feels to blush (he’s fairly certain the last time he felt any of the associated emotions was in elementary school). He somehow doubts he’d look as charming as Steve does, though, unsure of where to put his hands as Tony crowds his personal space.
Tony remembers Steve’s blush from the day before, and can’t help himself. He lowers his voice a little. “Here, wait, you have a stray hair.” And he reaches up to smooth an imaginary hair at the side of Steve’s head, allowing his fingers to stray lightly over the outer shell of Steve’s ear. Steve’s eyes actually flutter closed and his breath hitches; this is easier than Tony had thought it would be. Instead of removing his hand, he lets it follow the curve of Steve’s ear until he catches the lobe between two fingers. He tugs lightly, then lets go, allowing his hand to drift almost to Steve’s chest before abruptly backing away. “Well,” he says briskly, “I should probably get to work on this helmet, the bulletproof goggles won’t install themselves.” An eyebrow wiggle adds more to the feeling of the moment than the content of the sentence, but Tony thinks it’s appropriate nonetheless.
“Right.” He can tell Steve is mentally shaking himself. “I’ll… see you around.” Steve leaves the workshop with a clearly practiced casual stride. Tony can’t help but smirk.
* * *
The next day, Tony actually attends the morning “debriefing” session. If Fury even cares, he doesn’t show it; Steve, on the other hand, looks pleasantly surprised. Tony feels what is probably an inordinate sense of anticipation. He loves having plans.
While Fury is talking about some budget nonsense, Tony edges over and casually rests his elbow on the back of Steve’s chair and brings his hand over to lightly brush the outer curve of Steve’s ear. He can feel the other man go tense next to him. He casually pinches Steve’s earlobe and Steve’s pale skin flushes pink. He removes his hand after a moment and fidgets until he’s lounging in the fancy S.H.I.E.L.D. office chair, feet up on an unoccupied chair, one arm just close enough to Steve’s thigh that his knuckles graze Steve’s jeans every time Tony turns slightly to look at someone else in the room.
The meeting is short, thankfully, as Tony is unwilling to weigh his amusement at sexually tormenting Steve against his hatred for meetings. As they get up to leave, Tony sees Fury angling toward Steve as if to ask him to stay longer, and Tony carefully angles himself between them and puts a hand on Steve’s back. “Check out the modifications I made to your helmet,” he says to Steve, a little louder than strictly necessary, then glances back long enough to wink at Fury. Fury looks less than amused.
“Hey, Tony, I think Director Fury wanted to-”
“Steve.” Tony shepherds Steve into the elevator and enters the first code for the workshop. “Bros before hos.”
“What? What does that mean?” Steve asks. “Clint said it the other day but…”
“Yeah. Anyway.” Tony is not going to be the person to explain that phrase to Steve. He shifts to more comfortable territory. “I added a manual control that will lift the lenses, as well as voice control, which we don’t necessarily have to activate now but you’ll probably need me to program for you, so we might as well do it now. The manual control will also work to switch the goggles to and from night vision if for whatever reason you need to do that. You can program the control phrase to be whatever you want, but make sure it isn’t something you’d say in conversation.” Tony grimaces a little. “That has the potential to be problematic. In my experience.” The elevator beeps and Tony enters the secondary workshop code.
The elevator goes down a few more floors, then the doors open with a ping and they step into the workshop. Tony removes his suit jacket and tosses it onto a table more out of habit than for any other reason. Steve watches the doors to the elevator close and then the wall smooth over so that the elevator entrance is practically invisible. “I didn’t even know the elevator went to this level.”
“It doesn’t. And I’ll know if you tell anyone otherwise.” Tony hands the helmet to Steve. “How’s that?”
Steve tries it on and they spend a few minutes programming its voice control. Steve is finally satisfied and takes it off, smiling like a kid at Christmas. His grin is more charming than it has any right to be, and Tony almost feels bad snatching the helmet out of his hands.
“Now before you’re allowed to have this, you have to promise me something.”
Steve looks like a lost puppy. “Tony-”
“Please, please let me buy you some shirts that fit you.” Steve’s demeanor totally changes; he actually starts laughing. “Don’t laugh, Rogers, this is a serious matter. If you’re going to be a public figure in the twenty-first century you cannot continue to wear shirts from, what is this, Men’s Warehouse? This is embarrassing for everyone.”
“Okay, yes, Tony, I will get some new shirts.”
“I don’t think you were listening. You cannot be trusted in this matter. I am going to get you new shirts.”
“You know what, I’ll take this one off right now.” Steve begins unbuttoning his shirt, laughing a little to himself; unfortunately, he’s wearing a t-shirt under it, but Tony is still grateful for the little things.
Tony isn’t sure whether Steve is acutely conscious of what Tony wants from him or if he is just as charmingly naïve as everyone (including Tony) believes he is. In any case, Tony can’t help himself. He steps closer and interrupts Steve’s hands, unbuttoning the bottom few buttons himself. Steve is a little taller than he is and he looks up into Steve’s eyes. Steve just looks back, unreadable for the moment, lips slightly parted.
Tony closes the gap between them, tilts his face up and kisses Steve. His hands are hovering near the bottom hem of Steve’s shirt and he lets them just rest on Steve’s hips. After a few moments of an almost chaste closed-mouth kiss, he leans back just enough to draw breath and to let Steve say no, but Steve just follows Tony’s mouth and puts a hand tentatively near Tony’s shoulder. Yes. Tony opens his lips and licks at Steve’s mouth, Steve’s smooth lips and even teeth and hot tongue. It’s suddenly intense and almost frantic, sloppy like they are teenagers, and Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s back and drags their bodies together.
They break apart to breathe and when Tony lifts his chin Steve immediately ducks his head to tentatively kiss Tony’s throat. Tony feels him nip a little at the skin. “Yeah, that,” Tony breathes into Steve’s ear, then lightly licks the cartilage. Steve moans. “Oh, fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He bites at the earlobe. Steve’s breath stutters and Steve takes Tony’s face in his hands so he can kiss Tony again. “Mmf.” Tony hums into Steve’s mouth. He slides a hand between them so that he can fumble with Steve’s belt, but after he gets it open he stops, considering. “Wait, wait.” He moves back slightly from Steve though he can’t bear to actually stop touching him, one hand curled at the waistband of Steve’s jeans, knuckles against hot skin. Steve’s lips are pink and a little swollen and his eyes are dark and heavily lidded. Tony has to drag the words out: “You’ve… you have done this before, yes? Or rather I guess more importantly, you’re okay with this?” Steve just looks at him. “Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I get that this is kind of twenty-first century, but wait, on the other hand,” Tony’s brow furrows as he gets into a thought process, “I guess the fact that you’re doing it with another guy is testament enough to th-”
“Tony,” Steve says, a growl that sends a thrill of lust straight to Tony’s dick, “shut up.”
“Make me,” is Tony’s immediate unconscious response, and when Steve kisses him again he’s grinning too widely to properly respond.
Tony’s sole worry assuaged, he unbuttons Steve’s jeans and pushes his underwear aside to take Steve’s cock in his hand. He brings his hand up just for a moment, enough to lick a sloppy stripe up the center of his palm, then he slowly slides his hand from the base to the head. He stops then, and Steve whimpers a little. It would be adorable and a little pathetic but Steve is so desperate (and, god, rock hard) for Tony that it’s just hot. He cranes his neck up so that he can bite at Steve’s ear as he jacks him off and Steve’s resolve crumbles, his hands tighten on Tony’s body and he mumbles “Tony, please.” Tony isn’t sure what exactly he is referring to but he doesn’t need any more provocation to slide down to his knees and take Steve into his mouth.
Steve’s cock is thick and heavy and Tony takes a moment to get used to it, swirling his tongue over the head before taking it as deep as he can. Contrary to what certain websites may posit, Tony cannot actually deep throat, but he wraps his hand around the base and hollows his cheeks and from the sound Steve makes, Tony is pretty sure he doesn’t mind. Steve is careful, fisting his hands against the wall behind him and tensing his muscles to make sure he doesn’t thrust into Tony’s mouth. Even with the knowledge that Steve could break his wrist if he clutched it too tightly, Tony is a little disappointed that Steve is holding back. He takes this as a message to just try harder.
“Tony, I’m going to… um, you should, if you don’t want, you know…” Steve says, awkwardly, voice strained. Tony hums in understanding; this sends Steve over the edge, moaning softly when he can’t help it, and Tony swallows. “Oh my god, Tony,” Steve says after a moment. Before Tony can stand, Steve adjusts his pants and slides down to sit on the floor next to Tony. Tony is achingly hard; he was too intent on getting Steve off to pay any attention to himself. “Do you want me to…” Steve begins, already setting to work on Tony’s pants.
“Nnghyesss,” Tony slurs as Steve takes his dick in his big, warm hand. With someone else Tony might be embarrassed at how little time it takes for him to get so close to orgasm, but this is Steve. He slits his eyes open for a second and Steve is leaning over him, skin still flushed pink, the muscles in his arm tense as he jacks Tony off. He’s biting his lip in concentration, for which Tony feels the need to kiss him, and his mouth is hot and Tony knows Steve can taste himself in Tony’s mouth. “Fuck, I’m so close,” Tony says, by way of warning, “don’t stop.”
Tony’s shirt is pushed up to his chest so he comes mostly on his own stomach and Steve’s hand, riding the wave of orgasm while Steve lazily continues to touch him. “Huh,” he says when he opens his eyes and Steve is reaching over for the discarded button-down they had tossed aside earlier. Steve uses the shirt to clean both his own hand and Tony’s stomach. Tony smiles. “Well look at that, it is good for something.” Steve smiles and leans over to kiss Tony, who after a moment of readjustment straddles Steve’s legs to sit on his lap. He slides his hands under the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Less clothing next time,” he says without thinking, then has a moment of panic before he is reminded that this is Steve.
“Definitely less clothing,” Steve replies. Tony leans in toward Steve’s ear and licks at it. Steve groans softly.
“That will just never get old,” Tony murmurs. “And before you ask, I will definitely not use the knowledge for evil. Only good.”
* * *
Just before Fury begins the public statement at their next all-Avengers press conference, Tony pulls Steve aside and ducks his head slightly away from the crowd, as though to murmur a last minute comment. Steve leans toward Tony; his hair smells great, like Tony’s shampoo, and his suit is immaculately pressed and fits perfectly. Instead of speaking, though, Tony cups his hand so the audience of reporters can’t see and licks Steve’s ear wetly, biting briefly at the top, and then draws back and poses demurely for the crowd.
Of all the things Steve is, Tony thinks, he is not surprised.
Summary: If Tony were Nick Fury, he’d probably also be wary of how enthusiastically Tony agreed to make a custom communicator for Steve. Tony accidentally finds one of Steve’s erogenous zones.
Notes: Thanks to splintercat for beta reading and reccing me All The Steve/Tony and being beautiful.
Steve has weird ears, Tony decides. He can’t use earbuds, they always just fall out, so when he goes running he used to wear those cheap flat disc-shaped ones that hook over the tops of his ears even though Tony offered to give him a slim high-fidelity Starktech pair. (Tony finally stole the cheap flat ones and replaced them with his own. Steve said nothing; Tony assumes he couldn’t find the words to express his gratitude.) His in-helmet communicator needed some adjustment, too, when Tony swapped out all the Avengers’ S.H.I.E.L.D. technology for his own products. Tony added high-decibel noise canceling to the communicators, so their ears wouldn’t ring after explosions, but for some reason even though his tech was still smaller than the S.H.I.E.L.D. model, it wasn’t working for Steve.
If Tony were Nick Fury, he’d probably also be wary of how enthusiastically Tony agreed to make a custom communicator for Steve. In Tony’s defense, even if Fury has ever seen Steve shirtless and shining with sweat after a training session, Fury is probably asexual anyway, so he can’t understand Tony’s feelings on the matter.
Steve sits down in the spare chair in Tony’s workshop. He is wearing a close-fitting white t-shirt and Tony finds it difficult to actually believe Steve is a real person who really has those abs. And those arms. His jeans fit a little too loosely for Tony’s taste but Tony’s imagination is great and he likes what he’s imagining. He realizes halfway through the action that he is actually licking his lips. Tony clears his throat and rolls his chair up next to Steve’s. The putty he has been absently playing with is warm in his hands.
“Okay, I’m just going to use this to make a mold of your ear so I can fit the new communicator directly to you,” Tony says, edging his chair close enough for his thigh to touch Steve’s. Steve twitches slightly when Tony’s hands touch the side of his head. His hair is fine and soft. He twitches again when Tony braces the heel of his hand on his jaw (smooth-shaven, of course), but when Tony’s fingers brush his earlobe he goes curiously tense and still. Even his jaw clenches. Tony molds the putty to the delicate notch of cartilage below Steve’s ear canal. He lightly brushes the earlobe again and Steve actually makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Tony’s eyes narrow. Steve is blushing a little and his hands are curled into fists. His breathing is quicker and shallower than it was before.
Tony is an expert so there is no doubt in his mind: Steve is definitely aroused.
“That’s it,” Tony says as he finishes. He removes the putty but doesn’t move away from Steve. Steve tries to relax a little, he uncurls his fists and takes a slightly deeper breath, but his skin is still flushed and when he glances at Tony his pupils are wide. He clears his throat.
“Thanks, I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
Tony shrugs. “No trouble at all.” He would swear that he didn’t mean for his voice to be so low and breathy. And then, in a moment of reckless idiocy, he leans over Steve’s lap to put the putty on one of his tables. He hears Steve’s breath hitch. Steve is warm, his body radiates heat, and he smells mostly like clean laundry. Tony finds it a little difficult to draw back and once he does he isn’t sure what to do with his hands.
“I, um, I should probably be. Going. Now,” Steve says.
Tony snaps out of it and uses his heels to propel his chair backwards, away from Steve. “Right, absolutely, things to do, all that,” he hears himself babble. “Work. Et cetera.”
Steve leaves the workshop a little more frantically than Tony thinks is strictly necessary.
* * *
Tony finishes the communicator in a few hours (fitting it into the helmet had been the most exhaustive part of the process, but when he asked Fury if he could just redesign the helmet Fury had actually hung up on him and had picked up the three following calls on the first ring just to hang up on Tony again, which Tony thought was a little unnecessary) but Pepper forces him to attend several hideously boring shareholder meetings and Steve has one of Fury’s cultural experience sessions that evening so it isn’t until the next day that Steve can come back to test out the new communicator.
“You weren’t at the debriefing this morning,” Steve tells Tony from the doorway of the workshop.
“It’s not a debriefing if you have one every day,” Tony replies. He’s spent all morning trying to make the Iron Man suit’s gloves smaller, so he can do more delicate work with his fingers, without sacrificing strength. It’s a frustrating task. “What are you being debriefed on every day, anyway, what you ate for breakfast?”
“It’s more of a-”
“Team bonding, I know.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to put it like that,” Steve says, somewhat cattily, Tony thinks. But he looks up and Steve is smiling at him, wide and genuine, and Tony can’t help but smile back.
Tony tosses the helmet to Steve and Steve tries it on, fitting it snugly to his head and pressing two fingers over where the new communicator lies. “How is it?” Tony asks, even though he knows the answer. He crosses the room to stand in front of Steve, arms folded across his chest.
“It’s great, it barely even feels like there’s anything there,” Steve says, clearly impressed.
“There’s a little surprise, too. Jarvis, lights,” Tony says, and as soon as the fluorescents in the shop flicker off, slim night vision lenses slip down from inside the helmet and lock in place in front of Steve’s eyes. “And again.” And as soon as the lights begin to come back up, the lenses are gone. Tony allows himself a moment to be proud; Steve looks awed and thrilled, a pretty charming expression in combination with his ill-fitting light blue button-down and his Captain America helmet. “We can also do bulletproof anti-glare glass when the night vision isn’t in effect, if you’d like. Of course, it’ll probably take me another day or two but-”
“Tony, this is amazing, but I don’t want to - I mean, you must have other things-” But Steve is taking the helmet off and handing it back to Tony, who hands it to Dummy.
“Steve, Steve, please. This is Tony Stark you’re talking to here. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen,” Tony says with a flash of his glamour grin. “Also,” he adds, now entirely serious, “please tell me you want a new wardrobe, because seriously this shirt is killing me. Where did you get this?” He plucks at it near Steve’s waist and it actually flutters around Steve’s body without, Tony thinks, actually touching him at all. “You know what, don’t even tell me. It’ll just make me sad. This shirt is an insult to your perfect physique.”
Steve blushes at that, and Tony is briefly curious as to how it feels to blush (he’s fairly certain the last time he felt any of the associated emotions was in elementary school). He somehow doubts he’d look as charming as Steve does, though, unsure of where to put his hands as Tony crowds his personal space.
Tony remembers Steve’s blush from the day before, and can’t help himself. He lowers his voice a little. “Here, wait, you have a stray hair.” And he reaches up to smooth an imaginary hair at the side of Steve’s head, allowing his fingers to stray lightly over the outer shell of Steve’s ear. Steve’s eyes actually flutter closed and his breath hitches; this is easier than Tony had thought it would be. Instead of removing his hand, he lets it follow the curve of Steve’s ear until he catches the lobe between two fingers. He tugs lightly, then lets go, allowing his hand to drift almost to Steve’s chest before abruptly backing away. “Well,” he says briskly, “I should probably get to work on this helmet, the bulletproof goggles won’t install themselves.” An eyebrow wiggle adds more to the feeling of the moment than the content of the sentence, but Tony thinks it’s appropriate nonetheless.
“Right.” He can tell Steve is mentally shaking himself. “I’ll… see you around.” Steve leaves the workshop with a clearly practiced casual stride. Tony can’t help but smirk.
* * *
The next day, Tony actually attends the morning “debriefing” session. If Fury even cares, he doesn’t show it; Steve, on the other hand, looks pleasantly surprised. Tony feels what is probably an inordinate sense of anticipation. He loves having plans.
While Fury is talking about some budget nonsense, Tony edges over and casually rests his elbow on the back of Steve’s chair and brings his hand over to lightly brush the outer curve of Steve’s ear. He can feel the other man go tense next to him. He casually pinches Steve’s earlobe and Steve’s pale skin flushes pink. He removes his hand after a moment and fidgets until he’s lounging in the fancy S.H.I.E.L.D. office chair, feet up on an unoccupied chair, one arm just close enough to Steve’s thigh that his knuckles graze Steve’s jeans every time Tony turns slightly to look at someone else in the room.
The meeting is short, thankfully, as Tony is unwilling to weigh his amusement at sexually tormenting Steve against his hatred for meetings. As they get up to leave, Tony sees Fury angling toward Steve as if to ask him to stay longer, and Tony carefully angles himself between them and puts a hand on Steve’s back. “Check out the modifications I made to your helmet,” he says to Steve, a little louder than strictly necessary, then glances back long enough to wink at Fury. Fury looks less than amused.
“Hey, Tony, I think Director Fury wanted to-”
“Steve.” Tony shepherds Steve into the elevator and enters the first code for the workshop. “Bros before hos.”
“What? What does that mean?” Steve asks. “Clint said it the other day but…”
“Yeah. Anyway.” Tony is not going to be the person to explain that phrase to Steve. He shifts to more comfortable territory. “I added a manual control that will lift the lenses, as well as voice control, which we don’t necessarily have to activate now but you’ll probably need me to program for you, so we might as well do it now. The manual control will also work to switch the goggles to and from night vision if for whatever reason you need to do that. You can program the control phrase to be whatever you want, but make sure it isn’t something you’d say in conversation.” Tony grimaces a little. “That has the potential to be problematic. In my experience.” The elevator beeps and Tony enters the secondary workshop code.
The elevator goes down a few more floors, then the doors open with a ping and they step into the workshop. Tony removes his suit jacket and tosses it onto a table more out of habit than for any other reason. Steve watches the doors to the elevator close and then the wall smooth over so that the elevator entrance is practically invisible. “I didn’t even know the elevator went to this level.”
“It doesn’t. And I’ll know if you tell anyone otherwise.” Tony hands the helmet to Steve. “How’s that?”
Steve tries it on and they spend a few minutes programming its voice control. Steve is finally satisfied and takes it off, smiling like a kid at Christmas. His grin is more charming than it has any right to be, and Tony almost feels bad snatching the helmet out of his hands.
“Now before you’re allowed to have this, you have to promise me something.”
Steve looks like a lost puppy. “Tony-”
“Please, please let me buy you some shirts that fit you.” Steve’s demeanor totally changes; he actually starts laughing. “Don’t laugh, Rogers, this is a serious matter. If you’re going to be a public figure in the twenty-first century you cannot continue to wear shirts from, what is this, Men’s Warehouse? This is embarrassing for everyone.”
“Okay, yes, Tony, I will get some new shirts.”
“I don’t think you were listening. You cannot be trusted in this matter. I am going to get you new shirts.”
“You know what, I’ll take this one off right now.” Steve begins unbuttoning his shirt, laughing a little to himself; unfortunately, he’s wearing a t-shirt under it, but Tony is still grateful for the little things.
Tony isn’t sure whether Steve is acutely conscious of what Tony wants from him or if he is just as charmingly naïve as everyone (including Tony) believes he is. In any case, Tony can’t help himself. He steps closer and interrupts Steve’s hands, unbuttoning the bottom few buttons himself. Steve is a little taller than he is and he looks up into Steve’s eyes. Steve just looks back, unreadable for the moment, lips slightly parted.
Tony closes the gap between them, tilts his face up and kisses Steve. His hands are hovering near the bottom hem of Steve’s shirt and he lets them just rest on Steve’s hips. After a few moments of an almost chaste closed-mouth kiss, he leans back just enough to draw breath and to let Steve say no, but Steve just follows Tony’s mouth and puts a hand tentatively near Tony’s shoulder. Yes. Tony opens his lips and licks at Steve’s mouth, Steve’s smooth lips and even teeth and hot tongue. It’s suddenly intense and almost frantic, sloppy like they are teenagers, and Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s back and drags their bodies together.
They break apart to breathe and when Tony lifts his chin Steve immediately ducks his head to tentatively kiss Tony’s throat. Tony feels him nip a little at the skin. “Yeah, that,” Tony breathes into Steve’s ear, then lightly licks the cartilage. Steve moans. “Oh, fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He bites at the earlobe. Steve’s breath stutters and Steve takes Tony’s face in his hands so he can kiss Tony again. “Mmf.” Tony hums into Steve’s mouth. He slides a hand between them so that he can fumble with Steve’s belt, but after he gets it open he stops, considering. “Wait, wait.” He moves back slightly from Steve though he can’t bear to actually stop touching him, one hand curled at the waistband of Steve’s jeans, knuckles against hot skin. Steve’s lips are pink and a little swollen and his eyes are dark and heavily lidded. Tony has to drag the words out: “You’ve… you have done this before, yes? Or rather I guess more importantly, you’re okay with this?” Steve just looks at him. “Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I get that this is kind of twenty-first century, but wait, on the other hand,” Tony’s brow furrows as he gets into a thought process, “I guess the fact that you’re doing it with another guy is testament enough to th-”
“Tony,” Steve says, a growl that sends a thrill of lust straight to Tony’s dick, “shut up.”
“Make me,” is Tony’s immediate unconscious response, and when Steve kisses him again he’s grinning too widely to properly respond.
Tony’s sole worry assuaged, he unbuttons Steve’s jeans and pushes his underwear aside to take Steve’s cock in his hand. He brings his hand up just for a moment, enough to lick a sloppy stripe up the center of his palm, then he slowly slides his hand from the base to the head. He stops then, and Steve whimpers a little. It would be adorable and a little pathetic but Steve is so desperate (and, god, rock hard) for Tony that it’s just hot. He cranes his neck up so that he can bite at Steve’s ear as he jacks him off and Steve’s resolve crumbles, his hands tighten on Tony’s body and he mumbles “Tony, please.” Tony isn’t sure what exactly he is referring to but he doesn’t need any more provocation to slide down to his knees and take Steve into his mouth.
Steve’s cock is thick and heavy and Tony takes a moment to get used to it, swirling his tongue over the head before taking it as deep as he can. Contrary to what certain websites may posit, Tony cannot actually deep throat, but he wraps his hand around the base and hollows his cheeks and from the sound Steve makes, Tony is pretty sure he doesn’t mind. Steve is careful, fisting his hands against the wall behind him and tensing his muscles to make sure he doesn’t thrust into Tony’s mouth. Even with the knowledge that Steve could break his wrist if he clutched it too tightly, Tony is a little disappointed that Steve is holding back. He takes this as a message to just try harder.
“Tony, I’m going to… um, you should, if you don’t want, you know…” Steve says, awkwardly, voice strained. Tony hums in understanding; this sends Steve over the edge, moaning softly when he can’t help it, and Tony swallows. “Oh my god, Tony,” Steve says after a moment. Before Tony can stand, Steve adjusts his pants and slides down to sit on the floor next to Tony. Tony is achingly hard; he was too intent on getting Steve off to pay any attention to himself. “Do you want me to…” Steve begins, already setting to work on Tony’s pants.
“Nnghyesss,” Tony slurs as Steve takes his dick in his big, warm hand. With someone else Tony might be embarrassed at how little time it takes for him to get so close to orgasm, but this is Steve. He slits his eyes open for a second and Steve is leaning over him, skin still flushed pink, the muscles in his arm tense as he jacks Tony off. He’s biting his lip in concentration, for which Tony feels the need to kiss him, and his mouth is hot and Tony knows Steve can taste himself in Tony’s mouth. “Fuck, I’m so close,” Tony says, by way of warning, “don’t stop.”
Tony’s shirt is pushed up to his chest so he comes mostly on his own stomach and Steve’s hand, riding the wave of orgasm while Steve lazily continues to touch him. “Huh,” he says when he opens his eyes and Steve is reaching over for the discarded button-down they had tossed aside earlier. Steve uses the shirt to clean both his own hand and Tony’s stomach. Tony smiles. “Well look at that, it is good for something.” Steve smiles and leans over to kiss Tony, who after a moment of readjustment straddles Steve’s legs to sit on his lap. He slides his hands under the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Less clothing next time,” he says without thinking, then has a moment of panic before he is reminded that this is Steve.
“Definitely less clothing,” Steve replies. Tony leans in toward Steve’s ear and licks at it. Steve groans softly.
“That will just never get old,” Tony murmurs. “And before you ask, I will definitely not use the knowledge for evil. Only good.”
* * *
Just before Fury begins the public statement at their next all-Avengers press conference, Tony pulls Steve aside and ducks his head slightly away from the crowd, as though to murmur a last minute comment. Steve leans toward Tony; his hair smells great, like Tony’s shampoo, and his suit is immaculately pressed and fits perfectly. Instead of speaking, though, Tony cups his hand so the audience of reporters can’t see and licks Steve’s ear wetly, biting briefly at the top, and then draws back and poses demurely for the crowd.
Of all the things Steve is, Tony thinks, he is not surprised.