Don’t die on me too. Pepper and Peter are gone. Happy never turned up. Bruce and Rhodey are close to him, but the former had disappeared and the latter is a loss of a brother going forward that he’s going to have to deal with at some other time. At least he’s alive, here and back where they came. And Tony can’t focus on him right now. He has to let the rest filter through his fingers too, he has to trust himself that it’s possible to let them go because he’s going to give them life again.
But if Steve dies now in any way other than metaphorically, inside of him, then Tony won’t be able to cope. He’s not exactly doing a fine job of it now, anyway, though.
There isn’t much to be done in this position. Steve doesn’t have fantastic leverage and the pump of his hips, their embracing arms, and their closeness only allows two or three thick inches of the blond to leave him at a time. Tony’s grateful for that, however unable to express it he might be. This is real. The stretching and the fullness is real. He isn’t sure he wants to be empty. His body craves the physical sensation of surrounding someone else, even as he is being surrounded.
Steve is good at setting the pace and Tony arches back against him, the flat of his foot pressing to Steve’s calf to give himself a way to brace for the impact of each coming inward thrust.
There’s a contentment in that, when Steve is flush against his back and there feel of his balls coming to rest at his thighs tells him that there is no further that either can go.
Whatever effect the scotch had had on him is gone. Tony anticipates the slight uptick in pace as his breathing hitches. His body language has been slowly egging Steve on, dragging him deeper, televising that he can not only handle more, but he wants more. And that’s what the next few minutes blank for him. Steve finds the place his fingers had explored not long before and as his cock taps and rubs against the muscles of Tony’s prostate, he dissolved into nothing more than mewling begging. “Please—please—aaaah! More!” is followed by “oh-oh-oh I love it!” and “yes, yes, yes, oh god!, oh god! I can feel you everywhere!” and maybe, weirdly, a few long length equations for good measure peppered between.
He’ll deny all of this later if Steve brings it up.
Each time the blond drills into him, though, each time he begs or offers an explanation of the universe in mathematical formulas, there’s nothing rushed or even exceptionally dirty about it. Words will fail him soon enough and the breathy inventor will simply greet even hit of Steve’s thighs against his ass with an almost joyful “Ah!”
He isn’t one of the few lucky types that can be stimulated to orgasm through anal sex alone, but that’s fine. He’s right on the edge of bursting and he wants to keep going until Steve balloons the condom within him full of seed.
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Date: 2018-06-29 05:18 pm (UTC)But if Steve dies now in any way other than metaphorically, inside of him, then Tony won’t be able to cope. He’s not exactly doing a fine job of it now, anyway, though.
There isn’t much to be done in this position. Steve doesn’t have fantastic leverage and the pump of his hips, their embracing arms, and their closeness only allows two or three thick inches of the blond to leave him at a time. Tony’s grateful for that, however unable to express it he might be. This is real. The stretching and the fullness is real. He isn’t sure he wants to be empty. His body craves the physical sensation of surrounding someone else, even as he is being surrounded.
Steve is good at setting the pace and Tony arches back against him, the flat of his foot pressing to Steve’s calf to give himself a way to brace for the impact of each coming inward thrust.
There’s a contentment in that, when Steve is flush against his back and there feel of his balls coming to rest at his thighs tells him that there is no further that either can go.
Whatever effect the scotch had had on him is gone. Tony anticipates the slight uptick in pace as his breathing hitches. His body language has been slowly egging Steve on, dragging him deeper, televising that he can not only handle more, but he wants more. And that’s what the next few minutes blank for him. Steve finds the place his fingers had explored not long before and as his cock taps and rubs against the muscles of Tony’s prostate, he dissolved into nothing more than mewling begging. “Please—please—aaaah! More!” is followed by “oh-oh-oh I love it!” and “yes, yes, yes, oh god!, oh god! I can feel you everywhere!” and maybe, weirdly, a few long length equations for good measure peppered between.
He’ll deny all of this later if Steve brings it up.
Each time the blond drills into him, though, each time he begs or offers an explanation of the universe in mathematical formulas, there’s nothing rushed or even exceptionally dirty about it. Words will fail him soon enough and the breathy inventor will simply greet even hit of Steve’s thighs against his ass with an almost joyful “Ah!”
He isn’t one of the few lucky types that can be stimulated to orgasm through anal sex alone, but that’s fine. He’s right on the edge of bursting and he wants to keep going until Steve balloons the condom within him full of seed.