Though Tony might react to Steve’s mild blush at flattery with a smirk, as Steve is a physically perfect human being, he is still a human being and there is pleasure to seeing someone find pleasure in his words. He’s mildly shocked at being suddenly divested of clothing and, fully naked now, his heart rate increases until it’s pounding in his ears. This is Steve Rogers, his brain decides to suddenly protest. Hes a team mate. You’ve known him for years!
And it’s about damned time that this is finally happening. The rush of desire precedes the gentle way Steve touches him, caresses him, and sticks to the wall like perfectly cooked spaghetti. They’re about to have sex after two years of being apart. They’re about to have sex after nearly beating one another to death. They’re about to have sex because their world is gone and their biological clocks are demanding the solace of a physical connection.
This is right.
Tony doesn’t believe in fate, but he’s grateful for it anyway.
He lays back as Steve leans over him and he’s somewhat surprised that his legs and hips cooperate. Steve’s tall. And Tony isn’t fresh and new. His body doesn’t always cooperate, and it’s going a little softer than maybe he’d like it to. That’s just age. And you can fight age, but only for so long.
The fringe of Steve’s new haircut, dried somewhat imperfectly because of the bleach job and the crazy things that had been happening since he came out of the bathroom fifteen or twenty minutes ago, hangs over his eyes as Tony looks up at the Captain.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Tony says, but it’s not just stubbornness that blurts out those words. Steve is a soldier. He’s been trained to know his body. He understands restraint. He could also likely and literally fuck him to death but Steve’s got more control over himself than most— The entry of fingers blanks everything from Tony’s brain and there’s just a sudden inhalation, a greedy suck of muscles not generally used against a foreign but welcome body, and an intense roll of pleasure through his lower half. Tony’s body understands that it must relax and so it does so, hips pressing his bottom into Steve’s palm. Muscle yields and Tony’s brain takes control again as his toes uncurl. “S-See?” It’s easy to get used to one finger. Two takes a bit of time and when they’re there, Tony’s hips work against Steve’s hand on their own accord, until they both find the angle required to make Tony shudder. He’s pretty sure Steve is going to make note of that when the show actually starts.
And it’s got to start soon. Tony’s never been one for over preparation. His hand desperately grasps the condom packet and he presses it heatedly to Steve’s chest.
“What’re you waiting for? Handwritten invitation to arrive in the mail?” The words are somewhat slurred, though not from the scotch. He’s drunk again on this. On Steve. On what’s about to happen.
He’s finally figured out the perfect thing to get a guy who can and does have everything he wants: Captain America’s virginity.
no subject
And it’s about damned time that this is finally happening. The rush of desire precedes the gentle way Steve touches him, caresses him, and sticks to the wall like perfectly cooked spaghetti. They’re about to have sex after two years of being apart. They’re about to have sex after nearly beating one another to death. They’re about to have sex because their world is gone and their biological clocks are demanding the solace of a physical connection.
This is right.
Tony doesn’t believe in fate, but he’s grateful for it anyway.
He lays back as Steve leans over him and he’s somewhat surprised that his legs and hips cooperate. Steve’s tall. And Tony isn’t fresh and new. His body doesn’t always cooperate, and it’s going a little softer than maybe he’d like it to. That’s just age. And you can fight age, but only for so long.
The fringe of Steve’s new haircut, dried somewhat imperfectly because of the bleach job and the crazy things that had been happening since he came out of the bathroom fifteen or twenty minutes ago, hangs over his eyes as Tony looks up at the Captain.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Tony says, but it’s not just stubbornness that blurts out those words. Steve is a soldier. He’s been trained to know his body. He understands restraint. He could also likely and literally fuck him to death but Steve’s got more control over himself than most— The entry of fingers blanks everything from Tony’s brain and there’s just a sudden inhalation, a greedy suck of muscles not generally used against a foreign but welcome body, and an intense roll of pleasure through his lower half. Tony’s body understands that it must relax and so it does so, hips pressing his bottom into Steve’s palm. Muscle yields and Tony’s brain takes control again as his toes uncurl. “S-See?” It’s easy to get used to one finger. Two takes a bit of time and when they’re there, Tony’s hips work against Steve’s hand on their own accord, until they both find the angle required to make Tony shudder. He’s pretty sure Steve is going to make note of that when the show actually starts.
And it’s got to start soon. Tony’s never been one for over preparation. His hand desperately grasps the condom packet and he presses it heatedly to Steve’s chest.
“What’re you waiting for? Handwritten invitation to arrive in the mail?” The words are somewhat slurred, though not from the scotch. He’s drunk again on this. On Steve. On what’s about to happen.
He’s finally figured out the perfect thing to get a guy who can and does have everything he wants: Captain America’s virginity.